The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard Read online

  “I heard the tests are harder than ever this year,” remarked an elven boy with sandy blond hair who sat in the far right corner of the cabin.

  The twins chimed in, “Harder. But only five percent of entrants make it into the Academy. Almost everyone attends the preparation program for at least one year.”

  “We’re here.” A muffled voice penetrated the cabin. The children scurried toward the windows, their little fingers parting the thin curtains to peek out. Bertly was forced against the glass by Polly and the two elves, who piled onto him.

  “I can’t believe we’re already here.” Polly’s voice could hardly be heard over the giggling of the other children.

  Bertly hesitated to respond, but decided that he would. This time. “All I see is a tent. It doesn’t look how I expected. I imagined it to be much more—”

  The side door of the carriage flung open, and the weight of the three children stacked atop him sent him flying out of the carriage and onto the dirt road. The three elves toppled after him to the ground.

  Standing before them was the carriage driver. “Get up, now! Stop fooling around.” The driver cast her shadow over the youngsters. “Head down this path here. You’ll be at the testing grounds in just two minutes. Be sure to register before heading to the main hall.”

  “We thought we were going to the Academy,” the twins contended.

  “No. Only students and faculty are allowed on campus grounds. Now, I must be off.” The driver bustled back to the carriage and was gone as quick as a drizzle bird.

  ***

  Led by the twins, the group of red-eyed adolescents arrived at the Academy testing grounds. In front of them stood a leather pavilion that was at least half the size of Stonebank. The structure was onyx black with white scalloped edges.

  “Friends, do you think registration is over near that long line?” Polly extended her arm, pointing to the left of the entrance.

  “We’d reckon so.” The two burly dwarves continued to lead the group towards the line. Bertly was stunned by their speed, for they were certainly not built for it.

  A short while later, Bertly stood motionless in the line. His mind wandered from the conversation between Polly and the others. He soon found himself eavesdropping on another conversation nearby. He couldn’t make out the faces of the two who were speaking, but he knew the conversation was most likely between a boy and a girl—elvish, according to the accents.

  “Why do they even make us stand in this long line anyways?” the boy said.

  “I heard it’s because they need to register every red-eyed citizen in Pangea,” the girl replied. Her temperament seemed much less dissatisfied than that of her companion.

  “Why would they need everyone with red eyes registered?”

  “Are you stupid?” the girl snapped, her even tone disappearing. “Because we can all do magic. Almost one in five elves is born with red eyes. Imagine if we all revolted, like the giants did in the Great War.”

  “Oh…right.” The boy’s voice grew somber. “I suppose that makes sense. Thank Cordelia for keeping us protected.”

  “Bertly? Bertly?” Bertly snapped his attention away. Polly was intently staring at him. She leaned her head forward so that her nose was only a breath’s distance from his own. Bertly strained his back, arching it to be as far from her as possible given the circumstances. “Welcome back. I thought I lost you there for a second. Come on, the rest are already inside,” Polly said. She reached out and grabbed Bertly’s hand. Bertly whipped his arm up to his chest.

  “I can get there just fine. Thank you,” Bertly said in as polite a tone as he could manage. Polly’s eyes appeared dazed for a brief moment before she turned around and resumed standing in the line that led to the registration desk. Bertly followed behind her until a tall elvish woman asked for his hand.

  Bertly watched in horror as the woman placed a glass vial over his wrist, which immediately filled with his blood, apparently not even needing to touch his skin in order to accomplish this feat.

  “You may progress inside,” the woman said.

  Bertly proceeded numbly through the entryway. Jarred by what he’d just witnessed, he clenched his hand and focused on it. There was neither a puncture wound nor any pain associated with the blood-drawing process. He hadn’t felt a thing when the blood left his hand. His attention quickly shifted from his untouched blood draw to his new surroundings.

  The inside of the pavilion was sectioned off into three areas, each with a number floating above the section. Bertly entered the pavilion and immediately noticed that Polly had settled to the right of the entrance. Bertly mistakenly made eye contact with her, which apparently Polly took to mean that she could rush over to him.

  “Why is everyone staring at us, Bertly?” Polly asked him. He thought her question warranted a response, so he surveyed the room, and as his eyes scanned the individuals in the pavilion, theirs turned away from him, as if they were embarrassed to be caught staring. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that Polly was correct; the entire room was staring at them.

  “Probably because we are the first humans with red eyes in over three thousand years. They’ve never seen people like us, Polly.” Bertly snarled. “Now, where are we heading?”

  “Right.” Polly blushed. “They said to start with intelligence testing. If we score above an eighty, then we advance to combat testing.” Polly inspected the space. “It should be just over there, room one.” Bertly looked in the direction Polly indicated, and together, they walked toward room one.

  ***

  Bertly and Polly sat parallel to one another with their hands folded, facing the head of the room. The space was square with white walls and desks in a grid pattern, and the students who occupied them sitting silently.

  Polly leaned over to Bertly. “When do you think the test will begin?”

  Bertly persisted in staring at the front of the room. “I am assuming once the instructor gets here.”

  Just as Polly opened her mouth to reply, a door near the front of the room flew open. Out of that door walked the largest dwarf Bertly had ever seen; the dwarf stood a foot taller than the standard of his kind. He was afflicted by a large scar that spanned from his eye to his cheek, though it might have extended even further than that—Bertly noted—if it weren’t for the bushy, long, stark-white beard which grew past the dwarf’s waist, obscuring what could have remained of the scar. The dwarf hobbled toward the front of the class, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood facing his students.

  “Hello, I am Master Quinric. I have been the main overseer of the Academy entrance exam for over eighty years. I have seen many who have shown promise fail, and some who I thought belonged in Noskar rise up and become a master. Our judgment is not reliable, thus why you are here now, taking this examination. Cordelia has blessed only the fortunate with the gift of red eyes, and you are among those chosen. It is now your duty and responsibility to uphold the morals and wishes of our Cordelia.” Master Quinric looked over the room. “Some of you will become doctors; others, craftsmen—and for the lucky—soldiers.” Those in the classroom tried to hold back their laughter; however, a few students could not resist.

  “Why is everyone laughing?” Polly whispered.

  Bertly leaned in. “No soldier has fought in battle in over three thousand years. Not since Cordelia. Soldiers just train, relax, and get paid, without the worry of ever stepping foot on the battlefield. A soldier holds the most coveted position in all of Pangea.”

  Master Quinric cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. “This is the hardest year of testing we have ever had. This exam will require logic and reasoning beyond your years. Your mind will be placed in several different situations, and you must work your way out of them. Very few of you will be fast-tracked into the Academy this year.” Master Quinric squinted while he analyzed the room. “It seems Cordelia has gifted us with more red-eyed blessings this generation. Now, best of luck.” Quinric waved
his hand across the classroom. As his hand swished, their tests and quills appeared on the desks. Bertly jumped as he watched such magic take place before him, but he settled down quickly and examined the supplies.

  “Where is the ink?” Bertly asked Polly.

  Polly observed the room. “I think we just write with them,” she said, snatching the white-feathered quill in front of her. She jotted her name at the top of the exam sheet. Polly looked back at Bertly and shrugged. “Seems to work.”

  Bertly picked up his own quill and began to write. Shortly thereafter, he set his quill down. Could it really be so easy? he wondered as he glanced at the other students, who were still filling out their test booklets. Bertly, puzzled, flipped back to the first page of his finished exam and looked over his test again. There was no way it could have been so easy. He wondered if the questions on the test were trick questions; the scenarios were too easy to work out. Bertly examined the room again, completely stumped at how most of the students were sweating and flipping back and forth between the test pages. One student had even eaten half the feathers off his quill. Bertly flipped his exam packet closed, satisfied that he was, indeed, finished with the test. The booklet instantly vanished and reappeared in Master Quinric’s hand. The dwarf yawned.

  “Done so soon? I didn’t realize we had made the test so challenging this year. A shame, I was hoping for more out of the first red-eyed human in three thousand years.” Quinric rolled his eyes and looked over Bertly’s exam, mumbling something about how lazy humans must be to not even finish their work, but as he advanced further through Bertly’s exam, the dwarf’s eyes widened. He flipped through the papers again—and then a third time—before he spoke.

  Bertly’s heart pounded as he awaited the decision of his instructor. He was terrified that he’d done poorly on his test. The silence seemed to last centuries before the instructor spoke.

  “Impossible…how could you…this is the highest test score I have ever seen. I…I don’t think a student has scored this high in a millennium,” stammered the dwarf.

  Bertly’s anxiety melted into triumph. He could barely hide his burgeoning grin. He straightened his spine and sat in the perfect posture his father had taught—and often forced—him to sit in. “Young boy, you’re an absolute—”

  Another test materialized in Master Quinric’s hand before he could finish telling the class exactly how wonderful Bertly was. This time the master audibly gasped as he brought his hairy hand to his chest.

  “Another! And this one…it’s a perfect score! Which of you just completed this examination? Speak!”

  Polly slipped out of her seat. The screech that arose as her chair ground against the floor filled the room. Polly stood, her whole face flushed with the crimson of embarrassment. Bertly could tell. He felt it himself at that exact moment.

  “You! Young miss, not even our holy Cordelia accomplished a perfect score. You must be a gift hand-selected by Cordelia herself!”

  ***

  Bertly and Polly sipped on drizzle water as they waited in the main foyer for the rest of the students to finish their tests.

  “You did so well on the test the instructor couldn’t believe it. Isn’t that amazing? I’m so happy for you. Can you believe the scores we got, Bertly? Aren’t you happy for me?” Polly’s blushed cheeks surrounded her contagious smile.

  Bertly sat with his arms crossed, eyes forward, and answered in a monotone. “Yes, I am so happy.”

  “The next testing is in room three. Do you want to head there now? I think the other students will be finishing soon.”

  “Sure, whatever you want, Polly.” Bertly continued to be short. He didn’t intend to behave like a brat, but he couldn’t help feeling upset that Polly had shown him up in front of so many people.

  Bertly and Polly were on their way to the next room when Master Quinric intercepted them.

  “Sprouts, where are you off to?”

  “Room three, sir,” Polly said with intent.

  Master Quinric grunted. “Cordelia, no, you are going straight to the Grand Elder. The Academy does not care about your combat scores.”

  Bertly dropped his drizzle water on the floor. The combat testing was his only opportunity to upstage Polly, and he’d been confident that this was a challenge she would lose to him. His father had trained him in combat. The two had practiced every day since Bertly had been able to hold a sword.

  “Sweet Cordelia, get ahold of yourself, boy!” Master Quinric grabbed his robe and whipped it away from Bertly’s direction. A small amount of drizzle water splashed onto Quinric’s robe.

  Bertly shook his head. “Sorry, sir, I am shocked by…the whole situation.”

  “Why Cordelia chose two humans from Noskar, we will never know, but nonetheless, the Grand Elder has summoned you. Now, follow me.” Quinric darted down a hallway much quicker than Bertly expected. Since leaving home, he had been repeatedly impressed by the swiftness of dwarves.

  He and Polly followed Quinric beyond the three main rooms and through a well-lit corridor. At the end of the long hall was a single red door, where Quinric stopped. “Go along. He is expecting you.” He gestured for them to enter the room.

  Bertly reached for the door handle, but the door pushed open before he could grab it, and together he and Polly continued walking. The room they entered was very dark, with only one beam of light that appeared to float in the center of the room. Bertly searched the room in an attempt to find the light source, but there was none. Exposed within the beam was a giant, a man larger than a horse. Aside from his long white beard, his pale body was hairless. The giant rested with his eyes fastened shut.

  “Bertly, son of Edfrid, please step into my light,” the giant said, with a voice that sounded even larger than its source. Bertly was surprised that he could feel the bass of the man’s thunderous voice booming beneath his feet. Bertly walked forward and immediately was surrounded by the warm light.

  “Hmm…I haven’t interpreted a soul quite like yours in many generations. You will achieve greatness in your lifetime, but will succumb to what you desire most.” The giant’s eyes remained sealed. “Your soul holds a tragic ending, young Bertly. But still, it is one worth possessing. I have not been curious about an entrant in many years, future master. Please make your time at the Academy well spent.”

  Bertly’s chest pounded, and his knees were shaking. He stepped out of the light, unable to utter a response. He’d spent his entire life training for the Academy, and he’d been the first red-eyed human to be born inside the last three thousand years. And soon, he would be able to tell the residents of Stonebank that he would have the honor of attending school to become a master.

  The master of Stonebank. It had a nice ring to it.

  It was Polly’s turn next, and Bertly eagerly watched as she stepped into the light.

  The moment she did so, the Grand Elder opened his eyes. “It is you, Cordelia.”

  II

  “Sir, you mean to tell me that Polly is Cordelia?” Roderick’s eyebrows arched and his jaw dropped. “But I thought she—”

  “Of course she isn’t, you fool! The old giant was a bumbling idiot,” Bertly interrupted. “Now stop intruding before you give something away.”

  “Sir!” Roderick shouted. “That is the Grand Elder you speak of.”

  “What kind of Grand Elder can’t tell the difference between a reincarnation and a prophecy, Roderick? Plus, he was the Grand Elder.” Bertly sighed. “Apparently, her soul almost resembled Cordelia’s identically. It had always been rumored that Cordelia would one day be reincarnated. It just had to be her, of all people.” The grudge was evident in his voice.

  ***

  “So, Polly and Cordelia, aye?” Bertly’s father, Edfrid, paced around the quaint room, grabbing items and clothing articles and placing them into a small knapsack. “I never would have put it together.” Edfrid continued stuffing clothing articles into the knapsack. “These magic bags really are
something else, son. Do they ever fill up?” Bertly’s father chuckled.

  Bertly lay on a mattress. “I don’t understand. I work harder every day than she has her entire life, but she is the one being given everything.” Bertly sat up. “I should be the chosen one.” His face grew red.

  Edfrid placed the bag on the floor. “I will be right back.” Bertly’s father strolled out of the room. Bertly heard a small crash followed by a slight thud before his father returned with a book in his hands, which he extended to his son. “Here, I want you to have this.”

  Bertly took the book from his father and ran his fingertips across the leather cover.

  “It was your mother’s. She wanted you to have it once you were thirteen, but I think now is a better time.”

  Bertly flipped open the cover, eager to find out what was inside, but his eyes didn’t manage to scan a single word. Edfrid slammed the book shut. “Wait until you get to the Academy, son.”

  Bertly nodded. Though waiting to open the book would be more torturous than the carriage ride back from the entrance exam. It was pure hell sitting near Polly for so many hours, even more so than before, since he’d learned that she was a prophecy. Bertly was in the process of reaching for his knapsack when there was a knock at the cottage door.

  “They’re early,” Edfrid said, his eyes a touch wider than usual.

  Bertly dropped his book into the knapsack and opened the front door. He was confused to see that the knocker was a driver who had no carriage.

  “Are you ready, boy? We are running late.” The driver pointed his finger toward the sun.

  “May I say goodbye to my father, sir?” Bertly asked.

  The driver huffed and stamped a foot on the mat outside. “You should have already said farewell.” The tall and slender man peered at Bertly, who attempted to look as pathetic as possible. He did not want to leave without saying goodbye to his father. The driver sighed. “You have one minute. Hurry now.”

  Bertly looked to his father. Regret at leaving his father—his best friend—alone ate at him.