Electric Shock Therapy
NOAH OSBORNE
The pain is almost instant. As the final word is uttered, Arkos feels a thousand volts of electricity shoot through his body. Almost instinctively, his entire body closes up. His mouth jams shut, his hands grip the armrest and his legs throw themselves backward under the chair. Seeing his pupil’s less than stellar reaction, Laago releases his fist and sighs. Arkos quickly speaks up.
‘More.’
‘Are you quite sure, Arkos?’ Laago sneers. ‘The way you’re progressing, you’ll soon bite your tongue clean off.’
Arkos grinds his teeth together. ‘I wasn’t prepared. The Surge was sudden.’
‘Yes, it was, and that is how it shall be. In the heat of combat, I shall not have time to warn you. If that should stop you, then I suggest you leave now. I do not have time to waste on a man who still lacks mettle.’
Arkos practically spits his response. ‘I won’t ask again. More.’
Laago raises an eyebrow. ‘My, my. Did that get you riled up? I’m only being honest. You’ve no hope of besting him if you’re unable to even survive your spellcasting.’
Arkos twitches at the thought of him. Valocus–
*
‘—Trauge. Pleased to meet you.’ said the horned boy, arm outstretched. Arkos was taken aback. The boy before him clearly had some draconic heritage, evident by the sharply cut horns that jutted out of the sides of his head and behind the middle parting of his hair.
‘What do you need?’ Arkos said, forgoing a handshake. ‘Is there something you require me for?’
Valocus seemed almost offended. ‘What? No, not at all. Well, not in the transactional sense at least. I’d like to make a few friends at the academy. I think it would do us all well if each of us had an ally in crime of sorts during our time here.’
Arkos raised an eyebrow. ‘An ally in crime? Is that what you think all commoners are…?’
Valocus almost jumped. ‘No, that’s not what I meant! I’ve heard that it means-’
Arkos began to laugh. ‘I’m only joking. I get it. I’m Arkos Naikle.’
‘Oh… well, pleased to meet you, Arkos.’ Valocus said, smiling and adjusting his glasses. Despite his draconic heritage, he looked remarkably human. If one were to remove his horns he’d fit in at almost any high class social gathering – a tightly buttoned waistcoat and cape gave him an air of elegance that rivalled even the teachers of the academy. This of course, made Arkos all the more conscious of his own shoddy dress – a hand-me-down suit and tie that almost made him look poorer than if he had chosen to turn up wearing casual clothing.
‘Pardon my asking, but would you like me to get my tailor to fix that up for you?’
*
ZAP. Arkos’s sleeve tears as Laago delivers the next shock. Laago looks down at him, displeased.
‘Really, Arkos. You must learn to let go.’
‘Then what am I here for? He–’
‘Physically, Arkos. Physically. I allow you to wear your little nostalgic memorabilia, but I am frankly tired of having to constantly sew it back up.’ Laago cackles.
‘Honestly, perhaps it’d be best if you performed these without any clothes on at all until you learned to stop pawing at them. Maybe when you rip your skin clean off you’ll finally learn your lesson.’ he suggests with a wicked smile.
*
‘It confuses me, really.’ Valocus said, browsing through that day’s textbook. No matter how many times Arkos explained it to him, he remained just as bewildered every time it was brought up.
‘How do you immerse yourself in your studies? How do you get the answers to your questions?’
Arkos sighed. ‘I don’t. If it's not in the textbooks, I have to wait till I come back after the weekend. Is it really so insane to think that I don’t have any servants or tutors back home?’
‘Well, not in a vacuum.’ said Valocus, eyes still glued to the book. He looked up. ‘...that was the correct way to use that phrase, yes?’
‘Probably. Go on.’
‘Everybody else here has something to assist them, but you have nothing. It’s just a little interesting. ’Arkos narrowed his eyes. Valocus seemed to sense his discomfort, and quickly corrected himself. ‘I’m only saying it's impressive that you’ve managed to come this far.’ Arkos stayed silent. ‘If you’d like, I’d be glad to assist you with your studies,’ he offered.
‘I’m not a charity case.’ Arkos murmured. ‘I don’t need you to even the playing field for me.’
Valocus pried himself from his book, and turned to face Arkos. ‘This isn’t charity. We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘I guess.’ Arkos said. There was a moment of silence. ‘...Anyway, Professor Laago seemed very interested in you today.’
Valocus quickly returned his eyes to the page as he responded. “Huh? Oh, yes, I suppose he was…’ His voice trailed off as he sunk deeper into the passage he was reading.
‘He kept asking you about your experience with magic. How much you knew about it, whether you had taken on your father’s knack for it… it was all very strange. You suppose he wants to take you on as an apprentice of some sort?’
Valocus shook his head. ‘No, I think not…I’ve heard horror stories about his methods of teaching. Pay him no mind. If anything you should talk to Professor Eth–.’
‘YOU haven’t completed a spell?’ Arkos interjected suddenly, in awe of the revelation.
Valocus laid his book down on the table. ‘Well no, of course not. Most people in this academy can’t complete a spell – this is all theory work, for the most part. The secrets of how one practically performs magic are reserved for those in higher levels of study. Anyone our age who’s done it probably has no idea how.’
Arkos scoffed. ‘So it’s all just a fluke?’
Valocus shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. There seems to be some pattern to it, as most books I’ve read seem to point to the ‘character’ of the reader playing a part in the success of the spell. That makes it seem as though the ability to perform magic is tied to one’s inherent nature, but that would be extremely odd given the selection process for this school has no tests of the sort. It’s all very odd.’
Arkos nodded, despite the fact he had very little idea what Valocus was talking about. ‘Why don’t you try right now?’
Valocus looked at him as though he were mad. ‘You first.’
Arkos grinned. ‘Alright, here we go.’ Grabbing a spellbook that had been haphazardly thrown onto his bed earlier, Arkos recited one of the incantations written there.
Valocus sighed. ‘As I said. This isn’t going to happen, at least at our skill level. Perhaps you should go talk to Professor Ethen if you want to–’
‘It’s alright.’ said Arkos dejectedly. Passing the spellbook to Valocus, he continued, though this time with a little more pep to his speech. ‘We’ll all learn eventually. I don’t need special help. Also c’mon, you do it now. I embarrassed myself, it's your turn now.’
Valocus’ mouth was agape. ‘This was your idea! I have no obligation to participate in your schemes.’
Arkos feigned heartache. ‘And I thought we were supposed to be friends!’
Valocus rolled his eyes. Opening the spellbook, Valocus mumbled the incantation to himself.
The book went up in flames.
*
‘Valocus!’ Arkos hissed. ‘We’re going to be caught!’
Valocus didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the bookshelf that lay before him.
‘Valocus, what’s so important about all of this, anyway? Can you not find any of these books in your own personal library at home?’
‘Well, perhaps I could, but I shan’t be able to return there till the weekend. I require these books as soon as possible.’ he said, then paused. ‘I’d also prefer not to make any unnecessary trips home.’
Arkos considered prying further, but quickly came to the conclusion that he both lacked the charisma to get the information or the drive to bother with it in the first place. So, in keeping with tradition, Arkos gave his usual knowing ‘mm’ and nod before going back toward the bookshelf. How Valocus was so enamoured with all of these books, he had no idea. Pulling one from the shelf, he felt a sudden weight placed on his shoulder. A hand.
‘And what, may I ask, are you two boys doing?’
Arkos looked up to see his professor looming over him. ‘Sir Laago, we…’
‘We’re going through the restricted section without a permit? At night, no less?
Arkos's mouth hung open, unable to find the words to explain himself. ‘I-’ he began, but Valocus cut him off.
‘Arkos wanted to do some further research. He’s intrigued by the specifics of how magic operates, and felt as though the resources provided to him did not do enough to sate his curiosity. He asked for my assistance.’ His pace was slow – and to those unfamiliar, it could even be characterized as calm. But Arkos knew better. Valocus was scared. His words were enunciated more strongly than usual, even with Valocus’s articulate speech patterns.
‘Is that so?’ Laago said. He paused, then smiled. His widened eyes and grin sent a chill down Arkos’s spine. ‘I have a solution to this. One where you both won’t be expelled. Whoever’s pursuit of knowledge is greater will be allowed to stay within this institution. We have no use for those who lack mettle.’
Arkos’s heart fluttered for a short moment. Valocus remained calm. ‘So, our test scores then? I assure you, Arkos’s higher placement in the rankings is only due to my–’
Laago made sure that Arkos’ relief stayed short-lived. He raised his hand, gesturing for Valocus to stop his blathering. ‘No, nothing like that will be necessary. You’ll be duelling. Whoever wins this fight will be able to stay here. The other will go.’
Arkos broke his silence, spluttering out a retort as fast as he could think of one. ‘But Sir, we are not taught how to cast magic! It’s all theoretical–’
‘And what use is theory without practice?’ Laago cut in. ‘Surely if you’re interested as Valocus says you are, you’d have experimented with it before?’ Everyone felt silent.
‘I see no reason to delay,’ he said, adjusting his long black hair. ‘Both of you, opposite ends of the room.’
They both obeyed. Arkos watched as Valocus’s hand was set alight, the flames dancing back and forth across his fingers in a wild rhythm.
‘Begin.’
*
His body is almost entirely numb. The chair he had sat in is now lying shattered next to him on the floor. The electrical current is beginning to feel almost comforting – the familiar sting and cackle like the warmth of a campfire over pins and needles. Laago traces the lichtenberg figures that now line Arkos’s skin like a morbid mosaic.
‘This is progress. This is proof of your struggle. Now get up.’
*
Upon his return home, they were silent. His father did not so much as glance in his direction unless he were in his peripherals. His mother was much the same. Whether her silence was a voluntary one or one spurred on by her husband, he did not know – but that mystery made it cut all the more deeply. The thought that he had snuffed out his mother’s fiery spirit was one that ate at him for the remainder of his short stay.
*
Another jolt. Arkos hunches over.
‘You came crawling back to me for this?’ Laago snaps.
And another. His left arm seizes up, each finger transfixed in an ugly contortion.
‘For this?’
Another. Like a hungry beast, he begins to salivate madly, his attempts at speech only resulting in animalistic lapping of his own fluids.
‘Oh dear. I think I’ve broken him.’
Laago smiles, and with a swift movement clasps his hand together into a tight fist. A cracking thunder, and a thousand volts of electricity.
Noah is an emerging author from Western Sydney, currently working on a collection of dark fantasy short stories. With a love for both horror and theatre, Noah specialises in creating self indulgent and campy tragedies.
