Now…

The stars were just beginning to shine in the night sky as Scott descended down the hill from the forest’s exit.  There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, and the moon was half full this evening.  The wind that had been following him through the Westchester Woods seemed to have disappeared, leaving a perfectly calm and comfortable climate for the remainder of his journey.  Kirby, Scott’s loyal chocobo, trotted happily alongside his companion, despite the injuries he had sustained in the forest to one of his long stalkish legs.  Scott would occasionally glance over his shoulder, curious as to if the man who had rescued him from the Owl was still wandering around.  He had left for the opposite direction of Scott and Kirby, but one could never tell.

The Strange Academy for the Magically Gifted lay just down the hill a ways.  It was a large, sprawling campus of several acres, surrounded by towering stonewalls on all sides.  At each corner of the square wall was a guard tower.  The interior was decorated with several exotic looking buildings and flowering gardens, although it was difficult to really get a good view in the nighttime.  The campus appeared to be quiet, with only a few students and guards moving throughout the interior.  Softly burning fires of various colors illuminated the campus at night.

Scott was making his way down the winding path of the hill, his right hand leading Kirby by the reins, when there was a rustling in the long grass beside him.  Footsteps were halted as Scott paused to look to the side.  Kirby murmured softly, craning his head to look into the bush.  After a moment’s investigation he gave a louder cry, and drove his beak down into the grass in a repeated pecking motion.  A low grunt was heard and Scott jumped backwards in surprise as a small goblin pounced from the brush.  The creature was impish, no taller than Scott’s waist, with putrid green skin and sharp yellow teeth.  Beady yellow eyes examined the human before it closely even as the imp swung a small barbed club.  Scott easily evaded the attack before driving his dagger hard into the creature’s upper chest.  The imp wore no clothing or armor of any kind, and the dagger sliced through the monster’s leathery skin like it was tissue paper.  The creature gave a shrill howl before exploding in a puff of green smoke around the blade that had been lodged in its chest.

Scott held his dagger out in front of his body for several moments after the imp’s remains had dissipated away.  His body was tense, and his nerves were on end.  It had been a long day, and it was beginning to show.  His one revealed eye was beginning to grow heavy with fatigue.  After being satisfied that there were no more imps in the grass, Scott resumed his trek down the path.  After several moments he arrived at a diverging brick path.  Two burning torches marked the entrance to the path, which led to the large shimmering gate that marked the entrance of the Strange Academy.  The gate stretched twenty feet into the air, and seemed to glow with a magical power that Scott could practically reach out and touch.

“You must be the Summers boy,” a rather intelligent voice seemed to come from the gate, which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be some sort of crystal.  The flames from outside and within the Academy grounds seemed to be refracted through the material, giving it a multi-colored appearance.

“How do you know who I am?” Scott called out to the voice.  His own voice had, at first, sounded weak and timid.  The speaking gate had caught him off guard, and he hadn’t really been prepared to speak with the front door.

“Why, Moogle Mail of course.  Your grandmother sent us a very concerned message when you didn’t return by sun down.  She’ll be delighted to hear that you’re all right,” the voice spoke in a cheery tone.  The lighting of the gate seemed to respond to the voice from within, displaying much brighter tones whenever it spoke.

“I’m fine, just let me deliver this package and…and…” Scott said, beginning to feel dizzy.  The action packed day had taken its toll on his body, and now it was attempting to pay that toll.  Scott fell forward and quickly slipped into a state of unconscious, despite Kirby’s concerned pecks at his back.  He could just barely feel the package his grandmother had given him press against his body through the cloth of his tunic.

Then…

The campus of the Strange Academy lay silent.  All of the students and staff had been ordered to remain indoors.  Every building was barricaded and protected by mystical shields of light.  Outside the protective walls of the school, fires burned across the land, in the realms of both Avalon and Wundagore.  Charles Xavier stood on the balcony just outside of the Headmaster’s quarters, which were perched atop the highest tower in the Strange Academy.  A long, flowing deep blue robe decorated with white stars sat regally on his body, contrasting with the flames that reached ever higher into the sky.

“Why are you doing this Magnus?” Xavier asked, placing his hands on the railing and gazing out over the land, taking a moment to examine every fire.  His heart sank when he thought of the farms and villages where the blazes continued to rage through the night.

“You know perfectly well Charles,” a dark voice resounded from the shadows inside the Headmaster’s quarters, traveling out through the open doors and into the night air.  The voice was confident and powerful.  The air seemed to jump with electricity with every word he spoke.

“I know what you have told your subjects, and what you have told the kingdom of Wundagore.  That this is the war that will elevate the mages to supremacy of this world, their rightful place.  It is no secret that you have always thought our kind to be superior, and I share your ideals,” Xavier turned, his face framed by the inferno behind him.  “But these actions are outside of your character Erik,” Charles began, taking a step forward.

“Do not address me by that name!” the voice from the shadows roared, causing Xavier to give pause in his stride.

“These actions are outside of your character Magnus,” Xavier continued, his voice never wavering.  “We both agreed that, while our kind will come to rule this world, that time would be well beyond our lives, long after we have returned to the Destiny Force.  We are too much the minority to assert any claim for ruler ship of this world!” he insisted, gesturing to the land around them with his hands to emphasize his point.

“The humans cannot be trusted to protect this world Charles.  They are corrupt, and will use the Destiny Force and the Infinity Crystals to plunge this land into the dark ages.  They cannot be trusted to guard the Destiny Force!” the voice insisted.

“We are all humans, Magnus.  Our existence must be a peaceful one.  I implore you to call off this war,” Xavier began to plead now.

“I am sorry Charles, I truly am.  But if you knew what I knew, you would be out on the field of battle with me.  Your obligation is to your students.  Mine is to the world,” the voice said, fading into the darkness.

Now…

“Excuse me, Mr. Summers, I am terribly sorry to disturb your slumber, but if we are to deliver your package we must be getting underway within the hour,” an educated voice said from the darkness.  After several more moments of being lucid, Scott realized the voice speaking to him now was the same as the one at the gate last night.  He opened his left eye lazily, gazing up at the blank ceiling before turning his leg and looking to his bedside.  There stood a very interesting looking man.  He had the appearance of a very well educated individual.  He was clothed in a professor’s garb, with a fine vest and shirt on.  A pair of bifocals rested comfortably on his nose, and his brown hair was drawn back into a fine ponytail.  All this was well and good, but the man’s body was massive, contradicting his scholarly nature.  He wasn’t overly tall; he appeared to be just less than six feet tall.  But what was there appeared to be terribly muscular and strong, more like an ape than a man.  He could’ve broken Scott in half if he so desired.

“Where…” Scott began before looking around him.  He appeared to be in a small infirmary.  He brought a hand to the side of his head, where a small lump had formed.  It all came back at that moment, and he didn’t bother to finish his question, instead choosing to sit up in the bed.  He was still fully clothed, and his hand quickly reached for the pocket where his grandmother had placed the package meant for Dr. Strange.  It was still there.  “How long was I asleep?” Scott’s eyes returned to the large man beside him.

“You slumbered the duration of the evening.  My name is Hank McCoy.  I am the one you conversed with at the gate,” Hank introduced himself, patting Scott’s back with his large hand.  He then offered Scott the very same hand, to help him out of the bed.

“And Dr. Strange is no longer here?  Thank you,” Scott took the offer, his hand easily only half the size of Hank’s.  Another interesting story and person he would have to tell his grandparents about when he returned to Westchester.

“No, I am afraid he had urgent business to attend to at Wundagore Castle.  But he left precise instructions to follow should you arrive before he returned.  That is why we must make haste.  We are to meet with Dr. Strange at Terrigan, the village that sits at the base of the castle,” Hank said, trying to speed things up and usher Scott out of the infirmary.

Scott began to move towards the door, his heart dropping at the notion of more travel.  After what he had just gone through yesterday, he wasn’t too eager to go back on the road.  But at least he wouldn’t be alone this time.  Not that he had been alone last time either.  “Where’s Kirby?” Scott asked in an instant tone of concern, remembering the wounds his friend had sustained earlier.

“He’s being attended to by our stables staff, not to worry.  We will travel to Terrigan by way of chocobo-drawn carriage,” Hank continued, as if anticipating Scott’s next question.  He led the two of them down a long white hall towards a set of beautiful oak doors.  Scott asked no further questions, trying to catch up with everything that had happened to him so far.  The doors opened up into the courtyard he had seen the previous evening.  The view from just outside the forest hadn’t done justice to just how beautiful the Academy was.  Exotic flowers seemed to bloom all around him, and everything within the walls of the complex seemed vibrant with life.  People of all shapes and sizes walked between the buildings and admired the scenery.  It reminded Scott of his town square, but also of something more.  Everything just seemed so vivacious.  He was so distracted by the sights around him that he nearly collided with a girl, not much younger than he.  Instead the two brushed shoulders, and Scott turned to apologize.  His words caught in his throat as the red headed girl glanced back at him with shimmering green eyes, smiled, apologized in one exasperated breath, and then turned to continue running across the courtyard.  She was gone before he could say anything, and Hank was starting to get away.

“…carriage will be arriving at the front gate any moment now,” Hank was finishing his statement as Scott came up alongside him.  It wasn’t until that moment that the large, absent-minded man realized Scott hadn’t been alongside him that entire time.  He simply shrugged and continued on.  Scott attempted to slow his tour guide down and get a better view of the school, but Hank’s pace was unrelenting, and afforded Scott little time to look around.  Before he knew it, they were standing outside of the magnificent crystal gates.

“Hmmphh…I guess we’ve arrived earlier than anticipated,” Hank noted the lack of a carriage waiting for them.  He glanced over at the far skinnier Scott, who still appeared disappointed.  He continued to cast forlorn glances back at the Academy.  “Don’t worry Mr. Summers, I’ll give you the unadulterated tour as soon as we return.  Although I would be more than delighted to give you a slight history while we wait.”  Hank paused at this point, looking up at Scott with a beady pair of eyes.  There was no objection from the boy, so McCoy continued.  “The Strange Academy for the Magically Gifted was established by one Dr. Stephen Strange, one of the most powerful sages known to this world.  Strange knew that the Destiny Force fueled all existence.  A portion of the Destiny Force exists within each and every one of us.  It is our soul; it is the spark of life that enables us to be born.  But there are those who have a closer bond with the Destiny Force.  They are gifted by it, and as such, are capable of subtle manipulations there of.  These gifted humans are far and few between, and their manipulation has often been referred to as magic.  Those with the gift of magic are called mages.  Are you with me so far, Scott?” Hank paused to ask.  Scott nodded, half listening and half watching the courtyard.  He secretly hoped to see the red headed girl from earlier.

“Well,” Hank began a bit disdainfully, noticing that a portion of Scott’s attention was elsewhere, “Strange established the Academy in order to teach mages of their power.  The majority of gifted humans can only perform small manipulations, like making a small fire or causing their body to glow.  Nothing substantial, mind you.  But there are those who are more proficient in their element, and still others, like Dr. Strange, who are skilled in several elements.  Stephen had these individuals in mind when he established his school, although he takes any who come to these gates.  When he’s not in residence, Professor Charles Xavier is the headmaster.  Ah, here’s our carriage now.  Let’s be on our way now,” Hank said quickly.  He didn’t enjoy the prospect of being taken away from his studies to baby sit, even if Strange had insisted Scott be brought to him immediately.

“Hank…I ran across an imp, right before I approached the gate last night,” Scott confessed after several moments of listening to Hank about his various teachings at the Academy.  The two sat across from one another on smooth velvet benches within the blue carriage, with doors on either side.  Two men sat outside of the carriage, directing the six chocobos who pulled the weight.  Scott had been forced to suppress a laugh when Hank entered the carriage and the entire vehicle sunk a foot or two closer to the ground.  It would’ve been impossible for the man to ride a chocobo.  The creature surely would’ve buckled beneath the weight.

“Another one, eh?”  Not terribly surprising,” Hank pushed the bifocals further up on his nose, looking across the cabin at Scott as he spoke.  The boy had been able to dispatch an imp on his own, so he wasn’t totally helpless.

“You mean there’s been more?” Scott asked, somewhat surprised by Hank’s response.

“Yes.  There’s always some in the uncivilized areas.  They appear to be keeping watch.  Someone wants to know what we’re doing.  No matter how many of those pesky things we destroy, there’s always another to take its place.  The more unrest that exists, the more frequently they appear.  I fear that our world is approaching a turbulent time,” Hank’s voice dropped slightly. 

“Why couldn’t I just give this package to you and go home?” Scott asked, his hand drifting to the pouch in his tunic once more as he remembered why he was here in the first place.

“Dr. Strange insisted that-“ Hank began before the carriage, and his sentence, came to an unexpected halt.  The whole vehicle rocked slightly, and the sound of chocobos crying could be heard from outside the doors.  Without warning, the two men were being bounced like pinballs within the carriage.

“Thieves!” came the voice of one of the carriage attendants.  The sound of conflict quickly followed as the carriage finally came to rest.

“Stay here!” Hank said sternly to Scott before flying feet first out of the carriage.  Scott, ignoring the command entirely, exited through the other door.  He dropped comfortably to the dirt path the carriage had been riding on.  They were currently in the middle of a rather expansive field, with short green grass stretching on all around them.  The Strange Academy sat several miles back, while Wundagore Castle was visible on the horizon.  In front of the carriage, the two attendants were nursing small knife wounds.  Scott made a move to aid them when he was cut off by two of the thieves that had attacked the carriage.  Both men were disheveled and excessively dirty.  They were raggedy vests and leather pants for clothing, a large sac hanging from each of their waists to collect the day’s earnings.

“Fork over your gold,” one of the thieves sneered, moving his dagger in a mock thrusting motion towards Scott.

“Leave the boy alone” Scott heard Hank call.  It was actually more of a bellow, a violent command he hadn’t expected to hear from such a scholarly looking man.  He glanced up above him, watching as Hank bounded from the other side of the carriage, planted his hands on the roof of the vehicle (which sank a foot or two as he did so) and then somersaulted down, clobbering both thieves with his powerful legs as he landed.  Hank stood and brushed off his hands, examining his handiwork in the two unconscious thieves below.  Scott was too busy running to tackle the thief that was sneaking up behind Hank to thank the acrobatic McCoy for his assistance.  Scott caught the rags-wearing man around the waist and dragged him to the ground hard.  He was a bit surprised how quickly he had responded, and how ready he had been to attack this man.  But the pause to contemplate his attack gave the dirty thief beneath him a chance to retaliate, shoving Scott off of him.  Free, he got up onto his knees and whistled as loudly as he could.

“We need to get out of here,” Hank said urgently, grabbing Scott by the arm and yanking him back towards the carriage.  The two carriage attendants were collecting themselves as the chocobos moved restlessly.  Scott saw three more unconscious men on the other side of the carriage.  His respect for Hank had just reached a new level.

“Dun’ bother gettin’ in that carriage,” a thickly accented voice came from in front of the carriage.  The voice was smooth, almost charming in its nature.  Hank released Scott’s arm and gave him a firm hand to the chest, another command to stay back while he moved to confront the voice.  Scott paused momentarily before slipping around to the other side of the carriage, dagger drawn.  He pressed his back firmly against the side of the carriage, sliding down towards the front until he could get a glimpse of what was going on.  Hank now stood in front of the chocobos, fists waving menacingly in the air.  The birds behind him seemed prepared to run off, but there was nowhere to go, as the path directly in front of him, besides being blocked by the ape sized McCoy, held a small cadre of thieves.  Except these men were cleaner, and more finely dressed.  They didn’t wield rusty knives, but more lethal looking weapons.  The first assault on the carriage had simply been the scouts.  These were the true thieves, and the man in the front appeared to be their leader.

“Turn over all your valuables and you won’t get hurt my friend,” the man’s silky tenor voice said to Hank.  The thieves’ leader was a fairly tall man, just a bit shorter than Scott.  He wore a long brown trench coat with a skintight uniform underneath.  It appeared to be some sort of lightweight armor, with the chest being a magenta color while the rest was pitch black.  The man had a large tuft of brown hair that remained out of his eyes only with the aid of a black bandana drawn across his forehead.  That was when Scott noticed the man’s most distinctive trait.  His eyes were black with red pupils.

“Get out of your way, before I am forced to thrash you and your band of petty thieves,” Hank retorted.  Scott marveled at how Hank managed to threaten someone and still sound intelligent doing it.  “You have no idea the gamble you’re taking by attempting to rob this carriage,” Hank warned, trying to avert the battle at hand.

“Dat’s why dey call me Gambit,” the leader replied, drawing a long metal bo staff from the back of his coat.  Hank practically roared, charging at Gambit on his hands and feet.  Gambit whistled loudly, and the thieves behind him tossed a heavy twine net over his head.  Hank was unable to alter his course in time, and found himself caught in the mesh and tumbling forward.  He thrashed as hard as he could, but the next wouldn’t give, holding him close to the ground.  One of the thieves dropped down beside Hank, placing a dagger by his throat.

“Now you’re going to co-operate,” the man whispered.

“Let him go!” Scott yelled, even as he flicked his dagger forward.  The blade sailed through the air and lodged itself right in the thief’s shoulder, causing him to recoil away from Hank in pain.  Scott’s left eye opened a little wider.  He wasn’t actually sure the dagger was going to find its mark.  It was just as likely to hit Hank by mistake.  All of the thieves took a small step back, and Scott instinctively stepped forward.  But he was now without a weapon, and needed some way to appear threatening.  He glanced behind him.  The two carriage attendants had fled the scene entirely.  He only had one choice.

“Leave us by, or I’ll show you my cursed eye!” Scott yelled defiantly, letting his hands slip to his crimson bandana, moving as if to pull it down and reveal his right eye.  His body tensed, and his fingers gripped the cloth tightly.  Some of the thieves responded accordingly, and turned their back or moved even further away.  But Gambit stood perfectly still, several meters from Scott.  He was laughing, a sinister grin plastered on his face once he was done.  He thrust his bo staff out to point at Scott.

“Go ahead den boy, show us your eye.  I’m callin your bluff,” he said with that sneer on his face.  He didn’t appear even remotely frightened by the prospect of Scott pulling down his bandana.

“Fine…you asked for it,” Scott responded; although there was a great deal less bravado in his voice.  He had been wearing the bandana for as long as he could remember, and now he was going to take it off.  What would his grandparents say?  What would he tell them?  Surely this was an emergency; he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to, that was for sure.  He could feel his right eye twitch slightly, and he knew it was time.  His fingers trembled as they curled underneath the material.  He had his grip.  It was time to show these thieves who they were dealing with.  With one smooth motion, he yanked the bandana down around his neck and gazed out at the thieves with both eyes.

“Aaaaa!” Gambit screamed and dropped to the ground.  And then he started laughing again, clutching at his sides.  He was rolling on the ground, laughing.  Scott began to back away sheepishly even as Gambit had two of his thieves help him off the ground.  Gambit began to move closer to Scott, staff aimed directly at his throat.  “What’re you plannin on doin with dat ‘cursed’ eye boy?  Look at me funny?  It’s only slightly stranger lookin den my eyes!” he laughed.  His staff struck before Scott had time to react, hitting him in the cheek and sending him sprawling to the ground beside the carriage.  Scott landed on his hands and knees, looking down at a puddle on the ground.  For the first time ever he saw his right eye.  There was no detail to it; no pupil or iris.  He simply had an opaquely crimson retina.  Besides from being creepy looking, there appeared to be nothing wrong with his eye.  He could even see out of it.  But the sight was disturbing, and he hurriedly tied the bandana back around the eye.  It was something he had grown accustomed to after all those years.  He rolled onto his back, readying himself to stand, only to have the staff’s cold metal end jab against his throat.

“Give me your valuables boy…” Gambit said.  He was no longer laughing.  That was when Scott heard a whistling noise.  It grew closer and closer, and when it stopped Gambit’s bo staff had been sliced in half, a portion of it falling harmlessly onto Scott’s chest.  On the ground, just between Scott’s legs, was an arrow.  Gambit’s red eyes grew larger as he sized up the arrow.  Knowing Scott didn’t, he turned to his thieves and whistled again. 

“Got lucky today boy,” Gambit sneered as he tossed a small metal sphere at his feet.  The ball exploded into a cloud of smoke, and by the time it had disappeared a few moments later, Gambit was gone with it.  Not that Scott cared; his thoughts were all focused on the appearance of his eye, and why his grandparents had refused to let him see it for all that time.  Any question Scott had, any curiosity he had suppressed at his grandparent’s request, all came flooding back in that moment he was on the ground.  He was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice a man in lightweight armor and a purple hood offering him a hand up.

“Come on kid, I’m not holding my hand out here for my health,” the man said with a slight chuckle.  Scott took the hand and was hoisted up easily.  Looking around he noticed several armor plated chocobos sporting armor-wearing knights.  One knight was freeing Hank while another two were retrieving the carriage attendants.  Only the man who had helped Scott wore distinctive armor.  He had a somewhat scruffy face with a blonde goatee.  The hood went down to his shoulders, to where a light coat of chain mail began.  On his chest was a sleeveless tunic with Scott could only assume was the emblem of Wundagore; a giant star. 

“It looks like Strange was right, to have the king send us out looking for you.  I’m Clint Barton, captain of the guards at Wundagore Castle,” Clint extended his hand.  Scott shook it firmly and respectfully.  He could just notice the quiver of arrows on Barton’s back.  “Now let’s get you to Terrigan.  Strange is waiting for you, and I’m not in the mood for babysitting, what with all these demons and thieves around,” Barton turned and returned to his chocobo.

Scott was angry for only a moment.  Why did everyone think they had to baby-sit him?  But his rage melted away quickly as his thoughts returned to his now covered right eye.  No one had seen it except for Gambit, and Scott intended to keep it that way.  At least for the time being.  He climbed back into the carriage, a rather dejected Hank sliding into the seat across from him.  His once neat and tidy appearance ruffled by the conflict.  Hair stuck out from the formerly crisp ponytail, and the bifocals that had sat so perfectly on his nose now appeared a bit crooked.

“Sorry I didn’t stay put…” Scott said apologetically, feeling a bit responsible for the sour mood his new friend was in.  He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, constantly fighting the urge to rub his right eye with his hands.

“Quite all right Scott.  Besides, I should be thanking you for saving me from that one insalubrious fellow with the knife.  I did not know you could throw a blade with such precision!” Hank’s spirits seemed to pick up a bit once he got past the fact that he had allowed himself to be caught in a net.

“Yeah, neither did I…” Scott said with something resembling a sly grin on his face.

NEXT ISSUE: Terrigan and Wundagore Castle!