Nocturnal Academy 12: Wall of Fire

By Ethan Somerville

Necronis the Unmaker is coming. He is clawing open the Wall of Fire and influencing the entire Immaterium. Thousands of celestials have formed a barrier in front of him, but despite their combined wills the Dark God will soon rip the hole large enough to step through.

When he breaks free, he will tear the universe apart.

He is gaining followers and a large group of Necronites have set up camp in front of Appleton’s Old Cider Factory, preparing to welcome their evil master with open arms.

Just when everyone is at a complete loss at how to combat him a mysterious stranger appears at the Nocturnal Academy who just might have a solution.

Unfortunately Rhys Kelly has lost parts of his memory and has no idea how he arrived at the school. Before he can help to combat Necronis he needs to rediscover exactly what he can do. It is up to the teachers, and Alice and her friends, to shape this middle-aged computer programmer into a lean, mean fighting machine.

But not everyone believes Rhys to be the answer to their prayers and Professor Abbacus even sees him as a threat.

And to make matters worse, the delinquents at the Old Cider Factory have gained some powerful new leaders and are planning a bloody takeover of their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Storm Publishing
• Release date: Feb 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311540805

Ethan Somerville

Ethan Somerville is a prolific Australian author with over 20 books published, and many more to come. These novels cover many different genres, including romance, historical, children's and young adult fiction. However Ethan's favourite genres have always been science fiction and fantasy. Ethan has also collaborated with other Australian authors and artists, including Max Kenny, Emma Daniels, Anthony Newton, Colin Forest, Tanya Nicholls and Carter Rydyr.

Book preview

Nocturnal Academy 12

Wall of Fire

By

Ethan Somerville

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Storm Publishing on Smashwords

Nocturnal Academy 12

Copyright © 2014/2016 by Ethan Somerville

www.stormpublishing.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Chapter 1

Nick Carson slouched down in his seat as low as he could, but he was just too tall to hide like he used to. These days when he slipped his headphones on, he got all sorts of disapproving stares from the rest of the congregation. I’ll be glad when I turn eighteen next year and I can live with Dad full time, he thought darkly.

His mother had finally tired of his homework excuse and literally dragged him back to Church.

Sit up straight! she hissed at him.

Nick sighed and raised himself about a centimetre. He folded his arms across his middle and pouted. He could have rebelled, told his mother he was sick and tired of being made to attend church like a little kid, but he really hated arguing with her. While most boys in his form were telling their parents off, drinking too much and staying out all night, Nick preferred to behave himself.

He didn’t want her to screech at him. He hated it when she screeched at him. Her high-pitched voice made his ears hurt. She had two modes – calm and completely bat-crazy. There didn’t seem to be anything in between. And lately the bat-crazy mode seemed to be occurring more and more often.

Fortunately he was back at the Church of the Stigmata. He preferred it to the other one his mother had been forcing him to go to while this one was being repaired. That priest had seriously put him to sleep.

At least this new guy, Father Lost, was as interesting as Father Donelli had been.

He had a lot in common with the old priest; he was tall and grey haired, and he had quite a presence. He spoke well and was probably also just as nuts as Father Donelli had been. But unlike that cleric he was more muscular, probably several years younger. He also didn’t wear thick glasses or a dopy moustache. A lot of the ladies were really taken with him – especially and extremely embarrassingly – Nick’s own mother. She was perched on the edge of her pew as always, hands clasped in her lap like some excited teenager.

Welcome everyone, declared Father Lost in his soft but resonant voice. It is so good to see so many here today. Those of you in the doorway – please move to the sides so others can come in, thank you. He cleared his throat and without any further ado, he launched into a fairly typical sermon. Today, I’m going to talk about the End of Days, Armageddon, and the Apocalypse. Nick had his headphones on before he even realised what he was doing, and his mother snatched them off his head.

You’re too old for that nonsense now! she snapped at him. Listen and you might actually learn something!

Nick swore under his breath as he shoved the phones back into his pocket. I’m learning just fine without all this religious drivel, he thought. He was actually passing all his year 11 subjects – something he never thought he’d do. He was even starting to think about what he wanted to do with his life.

The time is not far off now, Father Lost continued. You can see signs of the approaching catastrophe already, in all the fatal storms, earthquakes, fires and other disasters currently befalling the globe. All herald the approach of the Evil One.

Oh dear Lord, Nick thought. He wanted to slap his forehead in exasperation. It’s called climate change, you idiot!

Very soon all Hell will break loose, Father Lost continued grimly. "Literally. Devils, demons and imps will swarm across the globe!

But, Father Lost lifted a long, bony finger, this does not mean you have to give up on the world. This is not the time for the Rapture, because help is on the way.

Is Jesus coming to save us? someone gasped, starting a ripple of excitement through the congregation.

Perhaps the Son of God is coming, perhaps one of his angels. So much I have not yet seen. But rest assured a miracle is coming to help us in our greatest time of need. The Earth need not die!

There was a collective sigh of relief at that. Only a few were really looking forward to the Rapture, to being carried bodily up into Heaven. Most didn’t want to leave their homes and not-quite-so-religious families.

Now I’d like to bring up something a little closer to home, Father Lost continued. It concerns this very town.

This time Nick’s ears pricked up. He’s not going to start on about all the weird supernatural creatures and things that go bump in the night, is he? During a previous sermon he had let slip the rumour that Father Donelli had vanished under mysterious circumstances. He believed it too.

I am speaking about the increasing number of young people, camped in the common opposite the Old Cider Factory, the priest continued.

Nick lifted a hand to his lips. I still haven’t checked that mob out, he thought. Perhaps I ought to go down there after Church.

Their numbers swell every day, Father Lost continued. Some children only show up during the daytime, but there is a core group who live there full-time. It is a hive of sinful activity; smoking, drinking, partying … and demon worship!

Shocked gasps rippled through the congregation. Most had thought it nothing more than a group of kids rebelling against their parents.

I went there myself, in the hope of bringing some of those lost souls back to the fold, but I fear I was too late. I saw the bonfire, the dancing, the ritual chanting to the forces of darkness. I was fortunate they didn’t see me and thus I was able to flee. Father Lost started to look a little flustered, his face pale and gleaming with sweat, his hair standing straight out from his head. Nick realised he really was upset. I know if I can get them away from that dreadful place, with its dark energies, I can help them to redeem themselves. But not while they cavort in the shadows of that vile factory.

What’s with the factory? someone gasped.

Father Lost looked down at the one who’d spoken. Don’t you know? he asked incredulously. A major demon incursion occurred there a few years ago! That’s why it’s closed to the public. Please, I implore you, stay away from the factory and those cultists!

He really is as insane as Father Donelli was, Nick thought in dismay. But now he was determined to see what was going on down at the Cider Factory. Just a little glimpse, from the distance, to see what all the fuss was about. Then he would leave.

You must promise me to never go there, his mother told him as they were heading back to the car.

Of course Mum, Nick answered with as much sincerity as he could plaster on.

He told his mother he was going to the Appleton Library to study. In reality he caught the bus up the Appleton Highway to the hills northeast of town, where the Old Cider Factory was located. He got off a couple of stops before and walked the rest of the way cross-country so no-one would see him coming. He didn’t want to be noticed and maybe drawn into any of the shenanigans. This was a scouting mission only and he felt quite sneaky and clever as he skulked into the scrub.

Apple orchards surrounded the Cider Factory, but there was enough bushland around their edges to hide Nick as he carefully approached the common. Already he could hear music and sounds of merriment.

Nick! What are you doing here?

Nick could have sworn he leapt a metre into the air as he spun around. He managed to clap a hand over his mouth before a little-kid shriek of horror could escape.

Standing behind him was a skinny, slender very familiar kid. "Holy cow – Andy?" he gasped.

The boy in the blue jeans and white t-shirt looked a lot cleaner and neater than Nick remembered. His straight blonde hair was longer and touching his shoulders, but trimmed and brushed back from his forehead. In the past he’d always looked scruffy, like he slept in his clothes.

How the hell did you manage to sneak up on me like that? Nick hissed at him. You nearly scared the poop out of me!

Sorry buddy! I’m naturally very quiet! The French boy spread his hands. I should have cleared my throat or something. What are you doing here? You’re not going to join … that are you? He pointed in the direction of the party.

No way man. I just came down here to check it out. Everyone’s talking about it, and I wanted to see what it’s all about. But I’m certainly not about to stay. My Mum would kill me, and I still have to live with her until I’m eighteen. He pulled a disgusted face.

Andy frowned. He opened his mouth to say something then he turned and fiddled with something Nick couldn’t see. Dude, what the heck happened to you? Nick continued. You disappeared from school without a trace! I asked some teachers about you and you wanna know what they told me?

Andy turned back around and flicked his hands at Nick in an odd, somewhat dismissive gesture. But Nick was now in mid-rant and not likely to stop – a habit he’d inherited from his mother.

That you’d given them a false address! he continued. When the cops went to check up on you all they found at your address were a bunch of deserted factories! They couldn’t find any record of you at all!

That’s because I was living on the streets. I’d run away from home.

So you’re with these weirdos now? Nick gestured towards the noise.

Andy lifted his hands. Oh no – my old school, Madam Nocturna’s Academy, took me back in. That’s why you haven’t seen me for so long.

Alice’s school? Didn’t they throw you out for stealing books or something?

Oh yes, but I … I well, managed to redeem myself! Andy gave a brilliant smile. I’m actually here undercover, investigating this group.

Nick stared at him in surprise. Really?

Andy extended a hand to him. Sure. I’ll show you around. If you’re with me you won’t rouse any suspicion. On your own they’ll pounce on you.

Er – ‘pounce’ on me? In a good way – or bad? Nick wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

Not good. This group is definitely not good, Andy answered soberly.

So that old priest was right? They are demon-worshippers?

Andy looked right and left, as though checking for eavesdroppers. Then he shrugged and said in a low, serious voice; They are definitely demon-worshippers. They sacrifice chooks and everything.

An icy shiver raced down Nick’s spine. He wasn’t sure he wanted to visit the group now. But then he quickly clambered on top of his fear. Since when did he actually believe in any of that supernatural nonsense anyway?

Okay Andy – lead the way. Nick extended a hand through the trees, towards the direction of the party.

Andre Sauvage started forward. The spell he’d cast over Nick should have been one to compel him to leave, but he wanted to show the youth what was really going on so he would spread the word that this was a bad place. It was time daydwellers were warned away.

So Andre had cast a different spell over Nick, one that would fortify his will and keep him from succumbing to the endless festivities. Because to young, disillusioned people, it really was a party.

A party run by run by cultists, but sill a party.

At the centre of the common was an enormous fire pit, surrounded by big rocks and filled with logs, piles of sticks and whatever rubbish could burn. At the moment it wasn’t lit because it was only early afternoon. Surrounding the pit were lots of tents, some rough and ragged, others bigger and newer. A few had been zipped together to create apartments. Makeshift showers and toilets had also been erected, and nearby were parked a couple of old bombs that were also being used as accommodation. A wonderful smell of cooking meat reached Nick’s nostrils, and he realised a row of gas barbecues had been set up not far from the bonfire.

They seem quite organised, actually, Nick whispered to Andre.

Oh yeah. They know if they make a mess the cops will come in and chase ‘em off. Each morning they clean up their rubbish and collect all the cans and bottles for the recycling centre. They’re quite industrious cultists alright.

Andre drew himself up and started walking towards the camp. As he approached, a skinny, scruffy-haired youth in a black T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off approached with a huge grin on his pimply face. Hey Nick! I was wonderin’ when you’d be joinin’ us! He stuck out a grubby hand.

Nick really didn’t want to take those filthy digits, but then Stan made a bro fist. Nick was only too happy to tap it with his own. Yeah! he agreed as enthusiastically as he could.

Go grab yourself a beer, man. There’s heaps in the coolers! He pointed towards the large white boxes lined up near the barbecues. The lads brought a new batch back this morning.

Nick was tempted, but he knew he couldn’t go home with beer on his breath. His house was a booze-free zone, except for the port his mother drank late at night when she thought Nick was asleep. Fortunately Stan had already lost interest in him and was wandering over to chat to some others.

Whatever you do, don’t eat or drink anything here, Andy told him, and Nick wondered why his voice sounded so close and clear – almost like it had come from inside his own head. That’s how they get you in!

Drugged? Nick asked in a low voice.

Sort of. Andy lifted a finger to his lips, and then covered his mouth. Just nod and smile as you walk around, look like you’re enjoying yourself.

So Nick did as he was told, untucking his church shirt so it hung out over his pants, and loosening his tie. He scruffed up his neatly-combed hair, and then shoved his hands into his pockets, adopting a cool swagger as he followed Andy through the tents towards the fire pit. A few youths waved to Andy, and a couple of others recognised Nick. He recognised them too – all kids who had recently dropped out of Appleton High. They were a grubby bunch, wearing spiky punk haircuts, backwards caps, bandanas, ripped shirts, low-slung jeans, wristbands and chains. Beneath the smell of grilling meat was a very palpable odour of beer, sweat and unwashed flesh.

Nick looked up at the Old Cider Factory, located about a hundred metres away on top of the hill. It really did look dark and ominous against the pristine blue sky, its tall black chimney pointing like an accusing finger. But the heavy duty cyclone fencing surrounding it, covered with keep out and danger signs, somewhat spoiled its