As she stepped into the tent, Katie blinked in wonder. Never before had she seen such a bizarre group of people assembled in one place.

The newly accepted freshmen were all milling around a gigantic circular table piled high with enough scrambled eggs, bacon, muffins, sausages, toast, jam, and butter to feed an army. Katie saw grogochs and sheeries, changelings and pookas, and a handful of Zombins, leprechauns, goblins and faeries—not to mention human folk; there were forty freshmen in all, ten groups of four from each of the towns in the southern district. And they all seemed delighted to be there.

As Katie’s group approached the table, one of the Zombins turned and shot them a gap-toothed grin. He was almost entirely skeletal, save for the bits and pieces of flesh clinging to his bones. His eyes were wide and bulging in their sockets on account of the fact he lacked eyelids. Tufts of black hair clung to what little remained of his scalp, and his clothes were so tattered they looked like rags.

Katie had never met a Zombin before, although she had heard of them. They were a strange, half-dead race that inhabited the dreaded Fell Forest of Grimmallow, a region that most people endeavored to avoid if they could help it. And though they generally kept to themselves, once in a while a Zombin would venture into less forbidding lands to make a nuisance of himself, for they were notorious pranksters, and generally found great amusement in frightening wayward travelers on lonely roads late at night. But Katie had never heard of a Zombin who wished to attend college. This she found most interesting.

“There you are, Hercule!” said the Zombin. “We’ve been looking all over for you, dear boy. You’re missing a most smashing breakfast!”

A second Zombin emerged from beneath the table, clutching a small white object that Katie immediately recognized as an eyeball. “Found it!” he exclaimed. He climbed to his feet, polished the eye against his sleeve, and popped it into his head. “There you go,” he said with a grin. “Bob’s your uncle!”

The first Zombin stared at him; his expression was one of pained annoyance.

“Do you have to do that in front of everybody?” he grumbled. “People are eating, eh? You might make them sick.”

“It’s not like I can help it,” the second Zombin protested. “It keeps popping out, doesn’t it? You don’t expect me to blunder about the place with only one eye in my head, do you?”

“Can’t you glue it in or something?” said the first Zombin, impatiently.

“Glue it in, he says!” scoffed the second. “With what? Jam?”

The first Zombin paused to swallow the sausage he had been chewing. Katie watched it slip down his throat and tumble into his stomach, where it bounced off a rib and plopped onto the floor.

“Oh, right! Who’s being disgusting now, eh?” accused the second Zombin.

Hercule turned to Katie; his grin was nearly infectious. “Katie, I want you to meet Shreds and Patches. They’ve been accepted to the Sidekick and Henchmen Institute. They’re going to be sidekicks, like me.”

The first Zombin bowed, spilling even more food from his stomach. “I’m Shreds,” he said.

“And I’m Patches,” said the second. With a sickening pop, his eye sprung from his head and went rolling across the floor. He scuttled after it, cursing beneath his breath.

“Don’t be forgetting Bazil Buckthorn, now,” said a soft, lilting, musical voice that Katie found absolutely enchanting. She glanced down and saw a Leprechaun standing at her knee, leaning upon a gnarled blackthorn shillelagh and wearing a grin as wide as his face.

“Bazil’s been accepted at Derring-Do, the same as you, Katie,” said Hercule.

The Leprechaun doffed his large, green, wide-brimmed hat in greeting, exposing the wild tangle of rust-red hair that lay beneath it. His face was nearly hidden by a beard of similar color, and his eyes sparkled like emeralds beneath brows that seemed permanently cocked in amusement. He was dressed in an olive-green suit accented with gold buttons in the shape of four leaf clovers. On his right hand he wore a gauntlet of crimson steel, which he held behind his back as if to hide it from view.

“Tis a fine pleasure to meet you, Katie Frost,” he said, bouncing on his toes. “And I must say you’re every bit as lovely as Hercule boasted.”

Katie glanced at Hercule and found that his face had suddenly turned a deep shade of red.

“That’s enough now, Bazil,” Hercule muttered out the side of his mouth. He nudged the Leprechaun in the shoulder with his knee, but Bazil ignored him.

“Oh, you should’ve heard the silver-tongued devil last night, lass!” he cried. “He went on and on about how you were lovelier than a summer’s day and how your eyes outshone the moon…”

Konk!

Bazil punched himself in the head with his gauntleted fist. He staggered back, shook his head, and shot Katie an apologetic smile. “Yes, well.” A titter of nervous laughter rose in his throat. “Perhaps I should rephrase that just a wee bit. What he really said was that you were the most beautiful girl in all the lands…”

Konk!

Once again Bazil staggered back, reeling from the blow he had delivered to his own skull.

“Okay!” he huffed in defeat. “Okay! He said you were pretty. And that was all. I swear it on me mother’s pinkie finger.”

The gauntlet quivered and fell at his side, much to Bazil’s relief.

Chani leaned on Katie’s shoulder and chuckled. “His mother enchanted that gauntlet he’s wearing to whack him in the head whenever he stretches the truth,” she explained in a whisper. Her voice was brimming with humor. “You should have seen him last night. He told so many tall tales around the fire he very nearly smashed his head in. But it’s great fun egging him on. He can’t resist.”

“That’s cruel,” Katie retorted.

Chani’s smile turned mischievous. “Hey, Bazil,” she called. “I didn’t think leprechauns went in for the hero thing.”

Bazil’s expression brightened as if he were a child who had just been given a toy. “Indeed we do!” he declared proudly. “In fact, me own father was one of the greatest heroes ever to…”

Konk!

“Actually, he was only a minor hero that…”

Konk!

“He made shoes.”

Everyone laughed uproariously.

But Katie saw no humor in tormenting someone who was obviously dealing with a very serious problem. “That’s enough!” she said angrily, rounding on Chani. “You should be ashamed of yourself! This is conduct unbecoming a hero!”

“But it’s so much fun!” Chani replied, wiping tears of joy from her face.

“I don’t care,” growled Katie. “If this is the level you’ve chosen to sink to, then maybe you’d better consider joining the College of Villainy instead.”

Chani’s mirth vanished. “You’re right,” she said, forcing dignity into her voice. “That was uncalled for. I won’t do it again.”

Katie harrumphed and then smiled down at the Leprechaun. “Come on, Bazil. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to show me to the table. I’m really rather famished.”

The Leprechaun beamed up at her. “It would be a pleasure,” he said chivalrously. He plopped his hat atop his head and, turning smartly on his heel, marched into the crowd.

“Many thanks for defending me back there,” he said the moment they were out of earshot. “But don’t be too hard on the Banshee. I’ve been treated that way all me life. I’m used to it. And besides, it’s how I get folks to accept me.”

“People should accept you for who you are, not for how much they can pick on you,” said Katie in a sour tone.
“Tis hard to be accepted when you’re no taller than someone’s knee,” said Bazil. “People forget you’re there half the time, and you’re constantly being stepped on or knocked flat on your nose. But, ah! They’ll certainly pay attention to you if you can make them laugh, won’t they?”

“But will they respect you?” Katie countered.

Bazil laughed; it was the sound of water running blissfully along a bed of stones across an open heath. “They’ll respect me once they see what I’m made of,” he said. “Little doesn’t mean ‘weak,’ you know. Wait here, now. I’ll fetch you a heaping dish of vittles.”

As Bazil scurried through the forest of legs toward the breakfast table, Katie suddenly sensed a lurking presence behind her. She spun around to find a tall, darkly handsome boy looming over her, grinning coolly. His eyes were steel nuggets beneath stern and brooding brows. His hair was a black mop, which matched both his complexion and his clothing. He stood as if he prided himself on his good looks. Katie was acutely conscious of his tall, athletic physique and found his stare unnerving yet inexplicably intriguing.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice an arrogant sneer. “The semester hasn’t even started, yet already you’re riding a high horse. One of Derring-Do’s ilk, are you? I should have known.”

“I beg your pardon?” snapped Katie, offended by his straightforwardness. “Who do you think you are…?”
“Rom Rudigan. Of the Dwimmervale Rudigans.”

“You certainly have a lot of nerve speaking so rudely to someone you don’t even know,” Katie said sourly.
Rudigan grinned arrogantly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, I know you well enough, I think,” he said. “Meet one self-righteous goody-goody and you’ve met them all….”

Katie clenched her fists in anger. “Why you snooty, aristocratic, stuck-up jerk!” she said.

Rudigan’s eyebrows arched in amusement.

“Easily intimidated; quick to anger; eager to fight… Yes. I think you’re just the sort of hero I’m looking for.”

Katie was suddenly taken aback, disarmed by the lethal twinkle of delight in his eyes. “What’s going on?” she said.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I intend to become the greatest villain of our generation,” said Rudigan. “And I am looking for a hero who can stand toe-to-toe with me—someone who is as determined as I am to be the best; someone with bravado and flair; someone who is not afraid to confront danger head-on.”

“Why don’t you try me on for size?” said Hercule as he materialized out of the crowd. He fixed Rudigan with a challenging stare.

Rudigan barred his teeth at him, but whether in a grin or a sneer, Katie could not say. “Don’t be absurd,” said Rudigan, his voice heavy with contempt. “Insects do not interest me.”

Hercule’s expression turned grim. “Some villain you’ll make,” he scoffed, “if all you’re good at is name-calling.”

“I could snap you like a twig,” Rudigan threatened.

“I’d like to see you try,” said Hercule. He balled his hands into tight fists and moved to raise them, but his rusted armor squealed in protest, freezing his hands at the level of his waist. Rudigan taunted him with a hard, cold-eyed smile.

“Hercule, enough!” said Katie. She seized him by the arm and pulled him into the crowd, away from Rudigan and his mocking grin. “What’s come over you?” she said angrily as she rounded on him. “We’re here to meet other freshmen, not to pick fights with them!”

“He was bothering you,” Hercule growled.

“Not so much as you might think,” Katie replied sharply. “And besides, if he was bothering me, I’m more than capable of handling the situation myself. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

Hercule’s face colored fiercely. “I was only looking after you,” he protested.

“Haven’t you been listening? I don’t need looking after!”

He glowered at her and turned away. “Fine,” he grumbled, and stalked off without another word.

Katie sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Rudigan. Their eyes locked, and she felt a shiver of fascination steal over her. Until now, the thought of beginning a search for an arch nemesis had never occurred to her. But now that she had encountered Rudigan, she was intrigued by the possibility that, perhaps, he was the very one she needed. He was certainly arrogant and self-possessed. But was he vile enough? That remained to be seen. Brunhelga, her mother’s arch nemesis, had been downright dastardly, and as Katie understood it, the best villain of her generation. And this was exactly the type of villain Katie wanted for a nemesis.

Resolving to discuss the idea with him later, Katie gave Rudigan a curt nod and turned to scan the crowd for Hercule.

Just then, someone at the far edge of the tent screamed.

Katie spun to see a gigantic sword slice through the canvas wall, from ceiling to floor. In the next instant there came a blood-curdling roar, and an immense Ogrim lumbered inside. It towered twenty feet above the stunned freshmen, waving its sword over its hideously misshapen head. A second Ogrim, as gruesome-looking as the first, slipped through the tear brandishing a war club thick as a tree. Together they scanned the crowd with wild, hungry eyes, searching for their first victims.

The only Ogrim Katie had ever seen was in a picture in one of her ninth grade textbooks. The spawn of ogres and cyclopean hill trolls, Ogrim were witless, but extremely dangerous and unpredictable, brutes capable of wreaking incredible damage. Their heads were misshapen and lumpy like ill-grown pumpkins, each sporting a single bulging and bloodshot eye, which darted to and fro with ferocious intent. One wore a bronze nose ring that flapped each time he snorted; the other wore a skull necklace around his sinuous neck. Their skin was the color of pond scum, their chests wide as barrels, their stomachs like bulging sacks of grain, their arms and legs thick as logs. But unlike the Ogrim in her textbook, these Ogrim terrified her to the very tips of her toes.
This terror, however, increased ten-fold as the cyclopean eyes zeroed in on her.

“White hair there,” said the first Ogrim, dumbly. The other nodded and gnashed his jagged, green teeth.

“Mash her!” he said, stupidly.

With a roar that froze Katie’s blood, the Ogrim raised their weapons and charged her.

The freshmen scattered in terror. Screams and shouts and the sounds of clattering dishes and stampeding feet filled the air as they ran at cross-purposes in a panicked attempt to flee the tent. Only a brave few dared make a stand against the attackers. A gossamer-winged faerie, no larger than a sparrow, made several courageous fly-bys of the Ogrim’s heads, plucking boogery clumps of nose hair into her tiny fists until she was swatted aside like a fly; a stoop-shouldered goblin, clutching a slab of bacon in one hand and a jagged sword in the other, rushed in and stabbed at their ankles, but was booted across the tent and through the far wall before he could inflict any real damage; a pair of mischievous Grogochs pelted them with handfuls of mixed fruit, but when the bowls ran dry, they turned tail and fled, hurling crude insults behind them as they ran.
Katie turned to run and nearly tripped over Bazil, who was dashing forward to engage the Ogrim in battle.

“Ya-ha!” the Leprechaun cried fearlessly. “Nothing says ‘top o’ the morning’ better than a rampaging band of murderous Ogrim!” His shillelagh whooshed ferociously as he swung it about his head. “I’ll handle the chieftain, you take the soldier!”

“Which one is which?” Katie cried.

“The one with the skull necklace is the chieftain! Duck!”

Katie flung herself to the ground just as the Ogrim chieftain’s blade fell; it whooshed over her, slicing the air where her head had been mere seconds before. Bazil’s crimson gauntlet leapt up to meet it on the backstroke with a harsh clang and a blaze of orange-yellow sparks. Miraculously, his arm remained in one piece.
 
Countering the blow, Bazil stabbed his shillelagh into the Ogrim’s kneecap and laughed as the brute roared in pain.

Katie rushed to engage the soldier, who was barreling toward her like a charging bull. She fired a stunning spell at him and watched in dismay as it glanced off his breast and harmlessly dissipated in a flash of orange light.

“Their hides are as thick as dragon leather!” Bazil shouted as he parried a blow that would have shattered the arm of an ordinary man. “Ordinary spells won’t harm them! Shoot for their eyes! It’s your only chance of stopping them!”

Katie dodged a crushing swipe from the soldier’s club and darted beneath his towering bulk. For several moments the creature hunted about for her, bellowing in rage. Then, as if some thought had suddenly dawned within his dim brain, the soldier bent over and peered between his legs. His huge eye widened in fury as it snared her, the perfect target for a well-directed spell.

Katie fired.

A cloud of daystars exploded in the Ogrim’s face, blinding his eye and sending him reeling backward in dull-witted amazement. Dazzled, he thrashed about wildly with his club, flailing it from side to side in long, powerful arcs. At the same moment, the Ogrim chief pressed his attack, howling and hacking and driving Bazil, in a surprising, savage rout, directly into the path of the soldier’s club.

“Watch out!” Katie cried. But her warning came too late. The club struck, and the Leprechaun shot across the room like a little green apple smacked by a biggleball bat.

Katie was too stunned to move. She was so astonished by this sudden turn of events that she completely ignored the blinded soldier…and paid dearly for the mistake. His flailing club struck her in the shoulder and sent her wheeling through the air. She crashed to the ground on the opposite side of the tent in a blaze of agony, her arm and shoulder broken. Unable to climb to her feet, Katie collapsed onto her side and watched helplessly as the Ogrim chief lumbered toward her. A fierce grin cracked his stupid face, and in his eye Katie saw her death.

Suddenly, Hercule charged in from behind her and planted himself directly in the Ogrim’s path.

“Leave her alone, you ugly brute!” he cried.

The Ogrim chief laughed stupidly and raised his sword. Spittle oozed from the corner of his mouth, and his eye blazed with murderous intent.

“Hercule, No!” cried Katie. Despite the agony burning in her shoulder, she forced herself onto her knees. “He’s too strong! He’ll kill you!”

Hercule ignored her. He pulled on his sword and staggered back as it froze halfway out of its sheath with an ear-splitting screech. Startled, he gave three great pulls on its rusty pommel, but the heirloom sword refused to budge. Seeing Hercule’s dilemma, the Ogrim chieftain rushed in for the kill.

At that exact moment Katie felt something shift within her.

The connection linking her to the all-giving Source swelled with an influx of magickal energy so intense it flooded her entire being. In a single instant she was a thousand times more powerful than before. Strange and exotic spells filled her thoughts, so unfamiliar and powerful none but she could conjure them. Her body glowed with a nimbus of pure radiant energy and she felt weightless as a feather. The pain in her arm and shoulder vanished, miraculously quenched as the unrestrained Source-power swept over her wounds and healed them instantly. Feeling invincible, she jumped to her feet and faced the chieftain.

She lashed out with her newfound powers and sent the Ogrim’s sword spinning from his hand. The weapon traced a high arc as it shot across the room and bit deep into the tent’s main support pole in a spray of splintered wood. Katie heard a shriek of terror, and she glanced up to see Droog clinging to the pole, mere inches above the wagging blade.

“Get down from there!” she cried. “It’s too dangerous!”

“You’re telling me!” Drool answered in a quivering shriek.

Enraged by the loss of his weapon, the Ogrim chieftain seized Hercule with a mighty fist and flung him at Katie. He shot toward her like a rusty cannonball with legs. Stretching forth her hand, Katie surrounded him in a cloud of blue-white mist and whisked him out of harm’s way as though he were a leaf blown by a breeze. She summoned a second spell, and in the twitch of an eye, the chieftain’s body transformed into a cloud of multihued butterflies and burst apart in a brilliant flash of color.

A shout went up from behind her, and Katie turned to see Sir Humphrey and Rudigan circling the blinded soldier, making lightning strikes at his legs and toes as they dodged the flailing war club. Seizing a favorable moment, Sir Humphrey ducked a savage swipe and raced in to attack the brute’s shins. His gleaming sword rang and rebounded as if it had struck stone instead of flesh. As the Golem Knight paused to stare in utter astonishment at the notch in his weapon, the soldier’s club crashed into him on a vicious downswing, shattering his glittering armor and the sending the pieces careening past Katie like cannon shot.

Katie looked on in amazement as Sir Humphrey’s helmet bounced past her shouting “RUUUUN FORRRRR YOURRRRRR LIIIIIIIIIIFE!”

Glancing back at Rudigan, Katie saw him duck between the Ogrim’s legs and stab his sword deep into the creature’s ankle. The soldier bellowed in pain, staggered back, and crashed to the ground. Quick as a striking snake, Rudigan leapt atop his chest and leveled the tip of his blade at the Ogrim’s wide, terrified eye.

“Why do you attack us?” he demanded in Ogrim tongue. The words were guttural and harsh sounding, but Katie’s enhanced powers enabled her to understand them quite clearly. She moved closer, eager to hear the answer.

“To slay the white-haired one,” said the soldier.

“Katie?” Rudigan said in surprise. He shot a look in her direction, regarded her with somber curiosity for a moment, then turned back to the Ogrim. “Why?”

“Don’t know why,” said the soldier.

“Who sent you?”

The soldier remained silent.

“Give me a name!”

With a roar, the soldier slapped Rudigan off his chest and sprang to his feet. He seized his fallen war club and swung it down with all his might. Katie sprang forward and froze it with a spell, mere inches from Rudigan’s chest. Shrieking, the Ogrim tried to retreat, but the spell held him fast. It spread up his arm and washed over his body, turning every last inch of him into solid stone.

Katie ran to Rudigan’s side and hauled him to his feet. “Unhand me!” he cried, and with a snarl, wrenched his arm from her grasp.

At that moment, the power that had taken control of Katie vanished. She staggered back, feeling suddenly woozy, and only barely managed to retain her balance.

“How dare you rescue me!” Rudigan growled as he sheathed his sword.

Katie blinked at him in amazement. “Would you have preferred that I let him kill you?” she replied.

“That’s not the point!” said Rudgian. “Villains aren’t supposed to be rescued!”

“Funny,” said Katie, “but by the way you were fighting that Ogrim, I could have sworn you were playing the hero.”

Rudigan’s face purpled. “That’s absurd.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth. “I was merely attempting to pacify the beast.”

“By jabbing your sword in his foot?” There was laughter in Katie’s voice.

“Precisely.”

“Whatever way you try to color it, Rudigan, the fact remains that I saved your life. Which means you owe me a debt.”

“I owe you nothing!” Rudigan snarled.

“Come now, young man! Don’t be ill-mannered!” said Sir Humphrey as he limped toward them. He was holding his helmet in his hand, and one of his arms was missing. He read the look of astonishment on Katie’s face and laughed heartily. “It takes more than an Ogrim’s war club to destroy a Golem Knight, dear girl. But I must say, you handled yourself quite smashingly! Well done! I’ll be sure to mention your deeds in my report!”

Katie blushed. “I did what I had to do, sir knight,” she said.

Rudigan rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me sick,” he mumbled.

“In fact, I’ll be mentioning just about everyone in my report,” continued Sir Humphrey. “After all, it’s not everyday that a group of freshmen defeats an entire war troop of marauding Ogrim! This is one for the history books!”

Katie felt as if she wanted to be sick. “An entire war troop?” she said, her voice quaking with shock.
 
“We encountered the rest of them as we retreated outside,” said Sir Humphrey. “And it was a good thing that we did. A few more minutes, and they would have had us surrounded! Oh, but it was quite a battle! That Banshee friend of yours certainly can fight when she’s pressed to it.”

Hercule shambled up to them with a dark look on his face. His heirloom sword, still frozen half out of its sheath, banged comically against his breastplate as he walked. Bazil strutted at his knee, his shillelagh propped against a shoulder.

“Are you two okay?” Katie asked. Hercule nodded tersely. Bazil, on the other hand, gave her a tiny salute.

“I couldn’t be better, lass!” he exclaimed. Immediately, his gauntlet came alive and banged him on the head.

“Actually, I’m in quite a bit of pain, now that I think about it,” he muttered.

“Let’s get someone to look after you,” said Katie. She offered her hand to the Leprechaun, but Sir Humphrey drew her aside.

“The only place you’re going, m’lady, is to Derring-Do University,” he said. “Those are Dean Widdershins’ orders. Her shadow delivered them the moment the battle ended. Captain Scuttle has been recalled, and the moment he arrives, you are to proceed to Ithacanum at once.”

“But I prefer to stay here!” Katie protested.

“It’s not safe for you here,” said Hercule. “Those Ogrim were sent to kill you. I heard that one admit it.” He stabbed a thumb at the Ogrim soldier. “There may be other war troops waiting out there for a chance to strike at us in case this attack failed. Ogrim prefer to move in regiments, you know.”

“The lad’s right, m’lady,” said Sir Humphrey. “I’m afraid you have no choice.”

Another Golem Knight marched up to them and gave Humphrey a crisp salute.

“Captain Scuttle has just landed, sir,” he said.

“Well done, Wicklow!” said Sir Humphrey. “Find Enniscorthy and Ballinsloe and have them escort Miss Frost out to him on the double.”

“Yes, sir!”

Katie watched the Golem Knight march off with a sinking feeling in her chest. This was not the way she wanted the matter to end, and it was definitely not the way she wanted to remember her Acceptance Day. And even worse, every one of the freshmen here would see the Golem Knights escorting her to safety and think her a coward. She quailed at the idea that, once at school, word would spread, and she would be branded a coward for the rest of her days. She thought about appealing to Sir Humphrey, but knew that such an attempt was doomed to fail. The Dean of Derring-Do had ordered Katie to be taken to the college, and as a creature of duty, Sir Humphrey would obey that order to the letter. But she would have a thing or two to say to this Dean Widdershins the moment she arrived at Derring-Do. Oh yes. She was going to serve up a nice juicy piece of her mind.

“Just look on the bright side,” said Hercule, trying to sound upbeat. “At least you’ll arrive in style. No other freshman can brag of that.”

Katie harrumphed and marched from the tent.

Copyright © 2008 by Kevin Scott Munnings
“The Book of All Things” ISBN-13: 978-1-4276-1874-0
All Rights Reserved