MINOTAUR UNIVERSITY: PART 1
Lewis Hayes sweated under the strain of his suitcase and the late-August sun. The taxi - or more properly titled Neophyte Transportation Carriage - stopped just before the tight, mazelike path that lead up to the New Minotaur University. The "new" part caused Lewis, despite his nerves, to giggle as it was most obviously newly-painted addition to the old sign. When he reached a gap between the mostly finely-clipped wall of green toperiery and vines he tried to catch a glimpse at the University, for he had heard a description of it only, and in the sparsest of descriptions. What was it they said again? It resembled a geometric spiral with two predominant towers to the North and South-East, and a couple of minor ones that were part of the main body of the building. The smaller towers were part of the new additions to the remains of the Old Minotaur University. He had actually been given a detailed account of the conflict that resulted in the nigh-on destruction of the ancient building, but for some reason it hung somewhere out of reach of memory.
So much else did. At that moment he could not even remember for what purpose he had come, but merely that he must advance. Yes, advance, for so many other carriages were soon to arrive, and to worsen the throng would not exactly gladden the Janitor, who was almost certainly a minotaur himself. It wasn't as if minotaurs were aggressive beasts, in fact quite to the contrary - this he knew because of his previous preparations - but he could not imagine one in a mood to be anything less than terrifying.
Finally, he caught sight of some other freshmen. All of them appeared to be human, which was something of a disappointment to him. Of course, it was a sad fact that humans, or at least near-humans, whatever they were, stood as the majority of neophytes, apprentices and full initiates. That sobering fact repeated itself nigglingly: Minotaur University is mostly comprised of humans. A cold breeze sent dust and stone adance as he joined the small queue. A wiry, curly haired boy who for some peculiar reason was wearing a false beard smiled at him pleasantly.
'Hello there,' said the stranger, to which Lewis echoed, though in a more quivering manner. As the queue pushed them closer to one another Lewis noticed something extremely odd about the other boy; his eyes were not blue, green or brown as those of normal people but rather of an odd orangey-yellow colour. They had to be fake, like the beard; he was a joker.
'Are those contacts?' He inquired.
'Whatever do you mean?'
'Your eyes, well... they're the oddest colour.'
'They're the same colour they were when I was born, I can assure you.' The nameless boy shuffled forth, then nodded emphatically as something clicked. Obviously humans were not elucidated in regards to the magical barrier.
'Mate, I think there's something you ought to know,' added the stranger. 'Not everything is as it seems here. Not to scare you, like, but - basically - I'm not a human like you. There's a kind of magical field around here that plays with our heads. Surely you've felt it?
'Why yes. But I put it down to the ghastly fumes that were being spewed into the carriage.'
'No. Disgusting as they were, that has nothing to do with why you can't remember. Just so that you don't get a shock,' said the stranger, gesturing towards the snaking path leading to the now visible Minotaur University, 'when we get closer to the Uni, I'm going to look a little different.' Upon noticing that Lewis' eyes were widened and staring down at his now cloven-hooved, woolly-furred legs, he realised he had spoken too late.
As they both noticed a young nymphlike girl had acquired gills and fine green scales, they felt a sense of unity in being alien creatures.
Lesley Gyron, MBE, was delighted to return to his office. He offered a short but warm greeting to the small number of older students and staff he passed by, only a few of whom knew of the misadventures he had been involved in a hundred years prior, and each was satisfied that the time spent in the Magical Correction centure had not merely redeemed but honed his skills as a teacher.
The collar is in place, they can all see that he said to himself, and such bears much greater weight of assurance than any apology or confessional I could impart upon them.
The collar was of rough material, with several jewels that glowed dimply beneath the dark-grey cloth of his History master's robes. A few of these gems were extinct, but only he knew that.
Once inside, he slammed the door, and unclasped the collar. At last! It was impossible for it to be removed in any place other than the office, which also served as his dorm. 'By the Gods,' he grumbled, 'it's as if every bone in my body aches, being trapped in this burdensome human form.' His eyes, which always glowed a little, were now like two dazzling spirals that swelled until they were the size of an average human fist. He was becoming more slender, his neck stretching, his arms shrivelling to deflated bags of boneless skin. His whole form extended, and coiled, filling each corner of the room as he assumed his natural guise, that of of a magnificent, yellow and black fleshed serpent. He drew off his teacher's garb with a well-practiced writhing motion that led it from one end of the room to a darkened, dusty corner.
The collar hung in the air; it was able to do that. He examined the detestable item, noticing with glee that another of the battery crystals had gone out.
There was a knock at the door. 'Enter!' Came Lesley's rough response. As the young girl entered, he closed his eyes, otherwise their powerful hypnotic quality would entrance her, making her forget her duties. And much more. He could almost taste her succulent, tender flesh in the very air she shared. But no; as much as he wanted to make a meal of her this was neither the time or the place. He would bestow that honour upon someone who was to leave the University, or perhaps if he acquired some other means in which to get away with it.
Perhaps he would allow himself that other forbidden pleasure in the near future, burying his eager member into whichever willing young thing entered his domicile. They would hardly complain about the experience, after all.
Georgis Cobbler replaced the golden horn caps his mother had given him, and straightened his neophyte's robe. His hooves itched; it was the black polish he'd been asked to use that did it. As minotaurs weren't able to the black leather shoes the others were forced to don, it was part of the University regulations. Silly, he thought. The collar of the robe was too tight as well, which was surprising as he was of a breed of particularly small Mallenx minotaurs. He exuded a bassy bovine snort and unconsciously scraped his left hoof on the floor in exasperation. The red haloes followed as they always did, and he shut his eyes to subdue them; the anger and upset became a hardened ball that he drew out of himself that melted away in the distance.
An extremely old, broad faced dwarf in elaborate robes smiled in his direction. They had never met, but he knew one of the reasons was not due his aura, his personality but rather what he was. He had experienced the same thing at home on Isla De Minotaurs Cinqo, as he was of a breed of genetically adapted minotaurs that were birthed not of a minotaur or human mother, but rather a dairy cow. So, he was a little bit more bovine than a minotaur; or rather more minotaurian than Common Minotaurs, as that species was itself a product of selective breeding for military conflict.
Oh, the naturals weren't the only breed; others had escaped the slaughter of the eight-hundred year Genocide Wars. There were, amongst others, the ancients whose powers of foresight and time telepathy vastly exceeded even his. Also, in even fewer number were the wallowers, a slow moving species that took a decade to walk to the top of a mountain and another to descend it. And few to none ever spoke. Some say they saw wisdom in Thorough Bovines' manner of uttering only the occasional impassioned moo.
Now calm, he looked over his registration papers and pondered the niggling minotaurian mysteries. Why was it that a minotaur had never been born under the sign of Taurus? Why were significantly fewer bulls than cows, and that only very few Common Minotaurs had access to genetic memory and were usually not psychic.
They had no access to the Bovine Mind Network either; most Mallenxes had trouble even describing what it was as it was something so unique to the his and other ativist species. Genetic suppression he pondered. He refused to believe that evolution would inhibit something that obviously aided a species survival.
Then again, the Common Minotaurs were in greater number. What was it they called it? Natural selection through minor improvements.
A deep growl followed by the loud flapping of wings reverberated through the corridor. An old, roughly dressed gentleman followed by two dwarfs sprang through the door, the latter erected a rope-barrier and looked sternly at anyone who veered too close.
'We're performing a magical experiment,' said the smallest of the dwarfs in a surpsingly deep baritone. 'And should any of you peer through the crack in the door you will be thenceforth taken to the Wizardry Master and transformed into a toad. Is that clear?'
A cacophonous chorus of, 'yes sir,' bounced from the walls, and the dwarfs proceeded to wrap lengths of thick golden chain around the already immensely re-inforced door.
Descending the stairs was the bespectacled, red-furred highland cattle minotaur rector, Gideous Grand. He had used a mild enchantment discipline, but even when that wore off none of the neophytes would recognise him as rector has he was wearing a rather unostentatious summer suit, the likes of which one might wear to the races, or to sip a cool ale or tea beside a cricket green. A wave of sadness overwhelmed him the closer he drew to Sciences Hall in which the latest of many injured beasts was being healed. He remembered the first such he had encountered, and the unfortunate accident that occurred to a result.
Dragons can be difficult, but even moreso if you haven't spent a lifetime in their study.