Chapter Seven

The Note

James squinted against the light that filtered through the window. His bed faced the large pane across the room, and the setting sun was pouring its last bit of light through, onto him. He held a hand up in front of his eyes to block the brilliance.

‘What’s this; he’s waking up?’ a familiar, deep, voice said from James’ left. The curtains over the window drew themselves closed as James turned to see Headmaster Fletcher sitting in a soft chair beside his bed.

‘Mister Fletcher?’ James asked, trying to roll onto his side, but abandoned the idea when a sharp, shooting, pain surged through his whole body.

‘I wouldn’t try to move just yet,’ Fletcher said, smiling and looking over the rims of his glasses. 

James groaned as he slumped back onto his pillow.

‘What happened?’ James wondered, trying to recall the events that had taken place, what must have been, just hours ago.

‘We, meaning me and your cohorts, have had somewhat of a challenge piecing all of it together,’ Fletcher said, shifting in his seat so as to be in a better position to tell the tale. ‘But it seems to us that after finishing your task of replacing the sponges in the lanterns, you were attacked.’

James’ memory was a bit fuzzy concerning those events, but he clearly remembered being attacked.

‘Who were those people?’ James blurted out. He had so many questions, and it was inevitable that one would pop out without him being able to stop it. Fletcher smiled, although it wasn’t as bright as his usual smile; this seemed sad.

‘I will not dance around the facts, James,’ he said, his smile fading to a frown. ‘You were attacked by the Knights of the Fifth Order, an ancient society bent on the death of every magical being on earth.’ 

It seemed these days that for every answer James received, ten more questions popped into his head.

‘Why? It doesn’t make sense. Why do they hate us so much?’ Feeling angry, James asked it loudly, but as he did the pain in his side returned. He grimaced and laid his head back on his pillow. 

Fletcher shook his head, pausing a moment before answering, ‘The Knights have been around for hundreds of years. Kings of days long gone set up the sect as a means to keep an eye on what magical people were doing. There was a time when non-magical and magical people coexisted; they worked with each other and helped each other. But the Knights moved in secret, fed by envy and hate. They became selective in the orders they would follow, and as they watched, they grew their base of power.

‘Eventually they became more powerful than the Kings whom they were commanded by, and in so doing, they cut themselves off and let their hate fester and boil. It was not too many years after this that they started planting seeds of hate among the rest of the non-magical people.’ Fletcher shifted again in his seat and looked at James. ‘You have had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting their modern day counterparts.’ 

James couldn’t fathom the amount of loathing it must have taken for a society to last so many years, still bent on their first objective.

‘Isn’t there some kind of law to protect us from these people?’ James asked, enraged (and rightly so) by the attack on him and his friends.

‘It is hard for people to enact laws to protect you when they don’t know you exist,’ Fletcher smiled.

‘So you mean that no one knows we exist?’

‘A select few know, but we try to govern ourselves. Recently I’ve had concerns about the renewed advances of the Knights of the Fifth Order. This is why I summoned Mister Bloodstone, and that is why he summoned his colleagues from the MPA,’ Fletcher stated, straightening his glasses as he did.

‘What’s the MPA?’ James enquired, confused.

Fletcher smiled. ‘It is a simple abbreviation for the Magical Protection Agency,’ he responded.

James nodded in understanding. His side stung again, and he winced from the searing pain.

‘I must say we were all afraid you wouldn’t pull through,’ Fletcher offered. ‘The Knights use some sort of unknown poison on their projectiles. It is extremely deadly, and you were in quite a bad state as short as two days ago.’  

James’ eyes widened. He had thought that he’d only been unconscious for a number of hours.

‘Two days? I’ve been unconscious for two days?’ James asked, quite dumbfounded. 

Fletcher laughed and shook his head. ‘I should say not! I’m sorry; I should have told you straight off.’ 

‘Told me what?’ James demanded, a bit of fear crawling up his neck.

‘You have been here in our hospital for some time now, James. It was September First when you were attacked.’ Fletcher stopped, and looked apologetically over his thin framed glasses. ‘It is now October Eighteenth.’

‘Oct… October?’ James stammered.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Fletcher consoled. 

Wholly overwhelmed, James sighed heavily. He had missed a lot of school. He’d missed a month! More than a month, a month and a half! He remembered a time when, at his old Orphanage, he’d had to go to the hospital for three days, and had been behind in his school work for the rest of the year. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case here too.

‘But not to worry my boy,’ Fletcher assured, smiling brightly again, ‘you have had quite an ordeal, and I expect that your teachers will understand. Therefore, I leave it to your friends to give you an overview of what you have missed, and that will be all.’ 

James shook his head in disbelief.

‘You mean, I don’t have to catch up?’ he asked, eyeing the Headmaster sceptically.

‘No, not in the traditional sense,’ Fletcher laughed. 

A new thought came to James’ mind, a burning, worried, question. ‘Sir,’ he began, unsure of how to proceed. James wasn’t too keen to tell him, because of the fact that he only found out by breaking the rules – but he had to know. ‘There is someone in the caves; me and Elizabeth saw him as we were leaving our first lesson.’

Fletcher nodded, all disappointed kindness. James wasn’t sure how to ask his question; it seemed silly, almost absurd, but he pushed those thoughts aside. 

‘His name is Horace Bleggard, and he claims to be a Gatekeeper,’ James said. Fletcher’s eyes widened momentarily, but his reaction was hidden well. A moment of silence descended on the two before James continued, ‘You don’t think he could actually be a Gatekeeper do you, Headmaster?’ 

Fletcher nodded and smiled sadly. ‘I know he is a Gatekeeper. The last one alive… at least on this side of the Mountain. I’m more surprised that he’s admitted it,’ he said looking over his glasses at James.

‘But you said-’

‘I said whatever I had to, to keep the children in my care from seeking out a dangerous man who could kill them in an instant.’ Fletcher smiled briefly before continuing. ‘You see, James, Horace can open the Gateway to the magic realm. He alone has the power to do so, but he is also… unstable. Do you know what that means?’

‘He’s mad,’ James said.

Fletcher chuckled. ‘In so many words… James, the Gatekeepers are bestowed with a different kind of magic, a more complex magic; as I think you’ve seen in Horace’s notes.’

James was shocked; he had only told three people – well two people and a Stone-Hound – about the book he had taken from the secret room.

‘How did you know about that?’ James asked in a weak voice.

‘I use the room as a study,’ Fletcher replied, ‘and I noticed that one of Horace’s books was missing.’ 

‘You mean there are more?’ James questioned, to which Fletcher nodded.

‘Sir… Why don’t you just get Horace to open the Gateway?’ James wondered. 

The Headmaster shook his head. ‘I have tried, James. Believe me I have. I’ve even explained the situation, told him about the advancements of the Knights of the Fifth Order, but he will not open it for me or for anyone. He has promised to keep the Gateway sealed as long as he is a Gatekeeper. He has also told me that he cannot open the Gate alone.’ 

James thought for a moment. ‘Couldn’t you just make him step down? Get him to train a replacement?’

‘I cannot make him step down.’ Fletcher insisted. ‘As for him training a replacement, he has made it clear that he is the only one who can decide who to share his “secret magic” with.’

James’ stomach did a back flip. 

What had Horace said to him? To Elizabeth? 

‘Ah, I see by your expression that there is more to your story,’ Fletcher reasoned, staring at James over the edge of his thin-rimmed spectacles. 

James bit his lip, not wanting to tell his Headmaster the next part, but after a moment he did. He explained how Horace had offered to teach him and Elizabeth magic. He explained, also, his uneasiness with the situation and his distrust of Horace.

‘I must say you’ve had quite the adventurous time since you’ve come to stay with us,’ Fletcher chuckled. ‘But, on a more serious note, James,’ he continued, dispelling the smile from his face, ‘this presents a host of new possibilities and… problems. You see, Horace could be dangerous, but at the same time, the possibility of reopening the Gateway could provide us with protection from our enemies.’

‘The Knights of the Fifth Order?’ James questioned.

‘Yes, among… other unsavoury types,’ Fletcher smiled.

‘So what happens next?’ he asked, glancing around the hospital room. James could hear Fletcher stand up and looked over to him.

‘Well, for now,’ the Headmaster said, brushing off his long robes, ‘you will need rest. I will have to consult with several people, in what will most likely be numerous mind-numbing meetings. And of course, I will have to have a word with our mutual friend Horace Bleggard. Until that time,’ he finished, moving towards the door. He stopped short, however, and turning back to James, offered, ‘I suggest you not worry about it. Please be sure to have your friends bring you up to speed on your subjects. Goodbye for now, James,’ and with one swift motion he was out the door and out of sight. 

Not sure of what to do or say, James watched Fletcher go without making a sound. James’ life had been flipped upside down over the past two months, and he imagined it was about to get even more complicated very soon. He tried to focus on other things, putting thoughts of his magical future off until the morning. He laid his head back down on his pillow and drifted into dreams once more.