The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard Read online

  “Yes, Polly?”

  “The average age is thirteen, sir,” Polly answered.

  Alestar’s voice grew. “And for hundreds and hundreds of years, that has been true.” Alestar strolled in the direction of Bertly and Polly’s workbench. “Until you two came along. When I was studying in Eskos, I spent an exceptional amount of time digging through the archives. I unfortunately found a lot of information I had already learned from our library here.” Alestar pulled up a barstool and sat across from the two students. “Until one day, I stumbled across a journal. An old classmate of Cordelia, Reynolds.” Bertly and Polly adjusted their posture and moved their heads in closer. “He did not mention Cordelia much, but one thing he did subtly imply caught my interest: A story about Cordelia conjuring her first spell at just five years old.”

  “Five!” Bertly shrieked. “Cordelia never ceases to amaze me.” He shook his head.

  Alestar leaned over the table. “That is not what I found most interesting. What I couldn’t help but notice was that Reynolds was not impressed. He mentioned it quite casually.”

  Bertly’s eyes lost focus. He stared down at the workbench. “Sir, I am not quite sure I understand.”

  “Don’t you see?” Alestar hopped off his stool. “He was not impressed because she did nothing impressive. I believe it was normal for humans to conjure spells before thirteen. Cordelia may have even been average in her spell-casting abilities, for all we know.”

  “Do you think we can learn spells before we are thirteen, sir?” Polly screamed from excitement, almost falling out of her chair.

  Alestar slammed his fists on the workbench. With his pearly-white teeth on full display, he unleashed a great smile. “Yes. I believe you can.” He drifted back to the chalkboard. He waved his finger in a circle and chalk outlined nearly half the writing on the board. “Theory. Why do we admit students at ten instead of thirteen?”

  Bertly raised his hand, his fingertips barely eye level.

  “Male human.” Alestar pointed his long finger at Bertly.

  “So we can be prepared, sir.”

  “Precisely,” Alestar cried out. “You must crawl before you can walk. We want all students to know the fundamentals of magic before they conjure their first spell. Why start learning at thirteen when you can already know hundreds of spells before then?”

  Alestar extended his arm in the direction of a stool across the room and formed a fist. The chair slid across the floor faster than a rock across ice. He stopped it with his foot and took a seat.

  “Conjuring a spell is no simple task. It takes the greatest level of mind over matter. In order to cast a spell, your mind must be completely clear. I cannot emphasize enough how empty your mind must be.” Alestar’s voice grew louder. “You cannot possess a single thought. You cannot even think about not thinking. Your mind must temporarily exit your body. Then, just in that moment, you think of the spell you wish to use. Are you with me?”

  Polly interjected, “To be clear, we must completely empty our minds. That way the spell we wish to use is the only thing we are thinking about.”

  “Exactly,” Alestar said. “For many students, saying the spell out loud is the easiest way to input the spell into their mind. However, once you have practiced enough, you won’t have to say anything at all.”

  Alestar took a moment to ponder in silence. He glared at Bertly and Polly. “Why are you not writing this down?” His voice echoed throughout the room. Bertly and Polly jumped and followed Alestar’s instructions. They started writing profusely.

  Alestar returned to pacing at the head of the room. “Today we will start with a simple spell—conjuring a flower. It is called ‘Tulipi Demori.’” A green stem grew from Alestar’s fingertip, and a bud sprouted from the top end of the stem, shortly growing to the size of a grape before it burst open, blossoming into a cherry-colored tulip. Bertly and Polly watched in awe. Their writing hands lay still, as they could not take their focus off Alestar.

  Alestar pranced to the workbench. He moved more gracefully than any giant Bertly had seen. He had always imagined giants as slow and clunky, considering they were half a body taller and a few times thicker than humans. Despite the professor’s elegance, the floorboards creaked with each step he took. Alestar broke off the stem and placed the flower in Polly’s hair. He glanced at Bertly and then back at Polly. “You try.”

  They sat with their eyes closed. For a moment, neither of them made a sound.

  “Tulipi Demori,” Bertly muttered. He peeked at his fingertips with one eye slightly open, but nothing was there. He took a deep breath.

  Tulip petals started raining, seemingly from midair. The surfaces of the workbenches filled with crimson-toned flower petals. Bertly peered over at Polly, who held a bouquet of at least two dozen tulips in her hands.

  “I knew it!” Alestar threw his hands in the air. “Being simpleminded may serve you wonders after all, little humans.” Alestar turned his head in Bertly’s direction. “Sweet Cordelia.” Between Bertly’s fingers rested one elegant, perfect tulip. Alestar grabbed Bertly and Polly by the wrists. “We must see the Elders. Now.”

  ***

  Alestar escorted them through ten towers, eight bridges, and thirteen floors. Their destination was the top floor of the highest tower.

  “Sit here, and don’t touch anything.” Alestar put his palm on an ornate blue door. The door was covered in dozens of intricate engravings. Bertly noticed his realm’s symbol engraved at the center: a drizzle bird carrying Cordelia’s warblade in its talons.

  “What do you suppose they are talking about, Bertly?” Polly whispered.

  Bertly took his time to answer. “I don’t know. I’m guessing what class to put us in next.”

  Polly nodded.

  Bertly and Polly waited with their thumbs twitching and their feet tapping. A creak echoed through the halls, and shortly after, Alestar emerged from the doorway, closing the door behind him.

  “The council has come to a decision. We have decided to fast-track both of you. You will begin taking a new set of advanced courses first thing next week.”

  “That is wonderful news, sir,” Polly yelped.

  “Please let me finish.” Alestar’s voice was stern. “You are being fully fast-tracked. Your test scores were already far beyond any first-year students and possibly even some eighth-year students. You will be starting magic courses as though it were the start of your fourth year.”

  “Wait, sir, that doesn’t mean—” Bertly’s voice trembled.

  “Yes, you will be graduating in eight years. This means you must find a master this year, or you will become ineligible for the Mastery program.”

  “Isn’t the deadline in three days?” Bertly moaned.

  Alestar sighed. “I am afraid so. I would not worry so much, little human. Each master chooses their apprentice. You two have become quite notorious. I am sure you will have to fight them off.” Alestar winked.

  Bertly’s stomach sank. Alestar’s intentions were appreciated, but Bertly knew he was only saying such things to calm his nerves. Bertly felt he should have let Polly take the glory. He remembered his father’s words: It isn’t always so bad being underestimated.

  ***

  Almar slammed his book on the table, producing a distracting thud that quickly brought the group’s attention to him. “Fast-tracked?” Bertly, Polly, Almar, and the twins were studying in the Academy library. From the outside, the library looked uninviting. Faded and cracked stone made up the outside entrance. When entering though, patrons were welcomed by the warm embrace of nostalgia and history. Rounded beams supported several stories, all filled with countless books. The students had heard about the faded brick and cracked stone entrance. It was famous for something; however, no one could remember precisely what.

  “You’ll move on to the Mastery program at sixteen!” Orin shouted. Orîn chimed in, “That’s the youngest ever!”

  “Shh.” An upperclassman at
a nearby table glared at the group. He held his pointer finger over his lips while mouthing the words, “Be quiet.”

  “Isn’t the deadline in two days?” Almar muttered.

  “Three,” Bertly grumbled.

  “I can relate to your suspense. I find out if I get into the Mastery program this week,” Almar added. “Do you have any idea who your masters will be?” Almar said under his breath. His voice carried a hint of both jealousy and curiosity.

  “I’m not sure. It happened so fast that we haven’t had the time to connect with any professors yet.” Bertly poked at his untouched food.

  “Well…” Polly glanced up at the ceiling, as if considering whether or not she should say what she was about to say. Bertly immediately wished that she would shut her mouth. “I have actually already received a dozen proposals,” Polly said. She looked down at her hands as her cheeks reddened. She didn’t seem outwardly prideful. Bertly assumed she’d merely made the statement so the group would be aware that it was possible to find a master quickly, on such short notice. Still, he battled with accusing her outright of being a show-off. He held his tongue on that thought, but not his others.

  “A dozen?” Bertly exclaimed.

  A paper ball struck Bertly in the back of the head. Bertly turned. The same upperclassman as before placed his finger over his lips once again—this time his face was stiffened with rage. “Shh.”

  “A dozen,” Bertly whispered. “Did you talk to anyone?”

  “No. I checked the mail, and a stack of letters was waiting for me,” Polly said.

  “Mail. We get mail?” Bertly peered at Orin and Orîn. The twins were tinkering with a pocket watch. “Did you two know we got mail?”

  “Absolutely,” the twins said. They kept their heads down as they worked on their watch.

  Bertly looked around the table in annoyance.

  Polly placed her hand on Bertly’s wrist. “Oh, Bertly, you simply raise your hand in the air and recite ‘Cordelia, reveal my mail,’ and poof, it’ll be right there in your hand.” Polly gave Bertly a once-over. “Bertly, have you not read the freshman handbook yet?”

  Orin and Orîn giggled.

  Bertly hadn’t heard of any sort of handbook. He grabbed a dinner roll and stuffed it into the pocket of his robe. “Of course I have.” He bumped the twins and Almar as he slipped out of his seat. Bertly walked as quickly as possible across the dining hall. He fled through the hall of the main entrance and to the door of the human wing. He plucked a hair from his head and placed it against the wooden door. It opened. Bertly bustled inside and raised his hand high into the air. “Cordelia, reveal my mail.”

  Nothing appeared. “Reveal my mail, Cordelia.” Bertly’s hand remained empty. He put his arm back down, then attempted to raise it with extra emphasis—practically punching it into the air. “Cordelia, reveal my mail, please.” Still, nothing appeared.

  Bertly’s heart sank. He had received zero offers. His palms were coated in a film of sweat, and he fell to his knees. After moping for a moment, he sprinted inside and rummaged through his wardrobe until he grasped his knapsack. He reached inside, pulling out the leather-bound notebook his father had given him. He flipped it open and noticed immediately that there was an inscription on the inside.

  Time is a virtue only few can enjoy.

  Bertly didn’t put much thought into the quotation. He turned to the next page.

  Lightus: Conjures a floating light that follows the master.

  Leveom Pristundis: Creates a magical barrier around caster.

  Fleviinio: Creates a small flame.

  Reptatis Exolus: Creates a stone covering around flesh of caster.

  Clareatous: Heals minor wounds on applied area.

  Bertly flipped through dozens of pages. Each of them was cluttered with spells. The names and descriptions were written horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, and there was scarcely a blank spot on any given page, as the author had crammed as much information as she possibly could into the book. Bertly opened the last page. There was nothing. He flipped back several pages until he found writing again.

  There is so much to discover.

  Bertly closed the book, gripped it tightly, and flopped onto his bed. He had a difficult time concentrating on any single thought. He heard the entrance door to the dormitory opening and slid his book under his pillow.

  “Are you okay, Bertly? You seemed to leave in quite a rush.” Polly gave him a lopsided grin.

  “I’m fine, Polly. I just wanted to get some sleep.” Bertly rolled over onto his side and pulled his thick comforter over his head. He heard Polly sit on her bed and rifle through her belongings.

  Bertly reached under his pillow and pulled out his spell book once again. He opened it up to the second page, but had a tough time making out the words—it was too dark beneath the blanket for him to read the pages. He wished Polly would stop studying so he could dive into the spells his mother had left for him. What did the first page say? Bertly whispered, “Lightus.” A dim light appeared and illuminated the small area under Bertly’s comforter. His eyes widened in delight.

  More thoughts rushed through the young wizard’s mind than he could filter, but one kept recurring. How did my mother obtain these spells? Did she learn them, or did she know them? Accepting that humans couldn’t learn magic, Bertly dropped the thought before he sent himself on a journey he couldn’t complete. This wasn’t hard because the boy’s greed overtook him; this was his chance to surpass Polly. He recognized there was no way she had something at her disposal like his mother’s journal. Bertly’s mind flipped back to his mother. But I am a human who knows magic, he pondered. Could she also have had red eyes? The wizard shook his head side to side. She would have been the most famous woman in all of the winter land if she had been red eyed, he reasoned with himself. Bertly needed to find a way back home to speak with his father. He had more questions than ever.

  Bertly’s attention couldn’t be pulled away as he devoured the journal, reading every spell and examining each page as carefully as possible. The sound of the morning bell made Bertly jump. A few minutes had turned into a dozen hours, and he hadn’t even noticed them go by.

  V

  Polly and Bertly sat in room 782, quills in hand and eyes glued to the board. The school year had only started, but their notebooks were already thicker than any of their textbooks. Master Alestar had taught them more and poured more information down their throats than all of their other classes combined.

  “Have you been able to socialize with any professors yet?” Polly whispered.

  “No,” Bertly dismissively replied.

  “Aren’t you worried about being matched up with a master this week?” she probed.

  “No.” Bertly turned his head toward Polly and glared. “Why would I be? I’m excited.” Bertly, however, was nervous for his upcoming magic lesson with Master Alestar. The young human’s hands were sweaty from how tight he was gripping his writing tool.

  Alestar cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “You know, they have magic for a reason, small humans,” he said. “Try this spell. I made it up myself; it couldn’t be simpler.” The giant waved his hand, and the words penmanship partnership appeared on the chalkboard. He grabbed a quill and recited the words, then placed his quill on a piece of parchment. “Why write when the universe will do it for you?” As he spoke, the quill recorded each of his words.

  Polly and Bertly grabbed their quills and repeated the words penmanship partnership. Neither of their quills stood on their own.

  “You can’t just say it,” Master Alestar grunted. “You have to say it.”

  Bertly and Polly tried once more. This time Bertly did his best to add meaning to the words. He was unsure exactly what his teacher expected from him, but he tried his best to send his energy to the inked feather.

  The quill stood on its own. “Wait, we could have been doing this the whole time?” Bertly whispered to Polly—the quill
automatically recording every word he spoke inside his notebook. “I have permanent hand cramps already.”

  “Bertly,” Master Alestar blurted, “is there something you would like to share with the class?”

  Bertly looked around the empty classroom. He and Polly were the only students in human magic. “Sir, I believe I have shared it with the class.” He gulped.

  Alestar snapped his fingers and Bertly’s quill caught fire and turned to ash within milliseconds. The young human looked at his dusty notebook with his jaw wide open. He did not know whether to be amazed by how easy magic was for Master Alestar or to be concerned with how he would take notes.

  Bertly found his backup quill and tried the enchantment once more; it worked on his first try. Alestar snapped his fingers again, turning the human’s second quill into ash.

  Master Alestar continued as though nothing had happened. “The Academy doesn’t want you to know this, but what the Academy wants its students to know and what students should know are two very different things,” the giant said. “Are you with me so far?”

  Polly raised her hand. “Do you mean something like forbidden magic, sir?”

  “I wouldn’t use the word forbidden.” Alestar tapped his finger on his lips. “Maybe discouraged is a better word.” The professor pulled out a glove, holding it inside his gargantuan palm, where it appeared tiny. “I am going to teach you about enchanted items.”

  “Yes.” Bertly pumped his fist. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Ah, so you are familiar?” Alestar asked.

  “Of course, sir,” Bertly replied. “It’s every wizard’s dream to learn to enchant items, but I was always taught that only the select few the Academy chooses are allowed to actually do it.”

  “That is absolutely correct, little human.” Alestar cleared the chalkboard and made space for more material. “The Academy, a long time ago, used to teach every wizard in the Mastery program how to enchant weapons; however, there were a lot of problems with the creation of illegal weapons and elixirs.” The chiseled giant shook his head. “Their response was to ban the creation and teaching of enchanted items altogether. Now they only teach a few long-term masters how to do it. It is a shame. There used to be magic shops scattered all across Pangea. Now most of the enchanted items in the world are sold on the dark market. Aside from a few basic items.”