Wizards Faster Than a Speeding Turtle

By Arlan Gerig

Bad enough that I’m standing on a turtle larger than Zofan’s five-acre property. Even worse that I’m here with hundreds of wizards and wizardesses for their yearly convention. Worse still that my mentor Zofan has partnered me with the arrogant apprentice Walfort. None of these, however, make my boots shake like dreading my yearly progress demonstration.

I’d rather poof myself into an ant and crawl into the nearest anthill.

“I have gnats ready for my presentation,” Walfort says. “It’s a very advanced spell, but I’m not telling you more so you can’t copy me. Any idea what you’re doing, Gwynfar?”

“I haven’t decided.” I try to sound nonchalant, but inside I’m a ball of melting wax. Walfort has bragged for weeks about his presentation; I keep changing my mind. “I could talk about my accomplishments, like taming a sea serpent or stopping King Roganvel twice from killing Zofan and me.”

“Most of those accomplishments were accidental.” Walfort snickers.

I clench my fists. “That’s not true. I think quickly on my feet.”

Unfortunately, everyone already knows about my previous exploits. For something different, I’d considered an invisible clothing spell, but Zofan deemed it inappropriate for mixed company. I’m almost out of time and still have no plan.

Trunket, the magically enlarged map turtle, lumbers forward, his flat shell perfect for hosting the Annual Wizard Convention. He has his assigned path, and wizards wait patiently by the edge of town until he passes. Each of his steps extends the length of Zofan’s barn. Wizards and wizardesses race alongside, then leap onto his tail and scramble up his shell.

More wizards climb on, and I fidget. I hate facing large crowds. I consider faking my own death. It almost worked for some kid named Romeo. No, too much work with too little planning time. I grab an orange, but I’m too anxious to eat.

The presentations commence, and each wizard introduces his apprentices. Seymour grows a big boil on his forehead that turns green, then purple, then goes back to normal. We’re next. What’ll I do?

“Zofan,” the master of ceremonies announces. “We’re all eager to meet your apprentices.”

Walfort and I follow Zofan to the top of the shell behind Trunket’s head. I’m still holding a squashy orange that’s no longer appetizing. After Zofan’s introduction, Walfort goes first with a forced smile.

“I’m Zofan’s newest apprentice,” he says, gripping the jar of gnats, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’ve spent months studying magnification spells of miniature… um… tiny… uh… I’ll now increase these gnats to the size of grasshoppers.”

He wipes his forehead, opens the jar, then waves his wand. “Magnificus… er… magnifcatious… gnatus growus biggus.”

I wince. There’s no spell like that.

The gnats grow as big as donkeys. A normal gnat isn’t much to look at, but these things are terrifying! Spiky hairs extend over enormous spindly legs. Long wings stretch across yellowish-brown bodies and bulging eyes cover their heads.

People flinch, then look away while gnats fly over the crowd. Experienced wizards typically endure presentations going awry; being a wizard includes fixing your mistakes.

The gnats buzz around peoples’ plates, drawn to the ones with fruit. One gnat lifts an entire table. Dishes spill across Trunket’s shell, and wands come out.

Zofan and I see the impending catastrophe at the same time. “No, wait!” Zofan shouts.

He’s too late. An elderly wizard sends a blue lightning streak from his wand and the gnat explodes into gooey mess. The huge bugs hover over the tables, and more wizards zap them. Gnats erupt, spattering everyone within range with yellow and brown slime.

Wizardesses shriek, wizards shout, and the air reeks with the stench of smoldering gnat bits.

Zofan crosses his arms and scowls at Walfort.

“Well? How will you fix this?”

Walfort grabs my shoulder. “Gwynfar, help! Should I shrink them back?”

I’m not sure I want to help. He’s a brat. But he’s also wringing his hands and muttering curses against himself. I can’t let Walfort suffer––even though he deserves it.

I speak calmly. “Shrinking them back is dangerous because you obviously got the spell wrong. Trying again might make it worse. Remember how we worked together against Bessie?”

Walfort nods. He smiles, and his eyes glisten while I continue.

“We had that sea serpent eating out of our hands. Make Trunket’s shell sticky. Trust me.”

Hand shaking, Walfort waves his wand. Pine sap covers the entire shell, sticking all the wizards and wizardesses in place. Some yell, but most fold their arms and glare.

I call to Trunket. “I’m going to use a quick-moving spell, so get ready to avoid the village ahead.”

“Oh no,” Trunket says. “How do I do that? I’m too big to maneuver well.”

He’s right. Map turtles swim great, but flying around a city wall could be a problem. I’m interrupted by a donkey-sized gnat swooping toward my orange. I squeal and step away. I don’t want to be the first wizard devoured by a gnat! Five other gnats join it.

Walfort and I brandish our wands, but pause. I’m not crazy about cleaning gnat goo out of my hair. In desperation, I hurl the orange over Trunket’s head. His large mouth chomps the pursuing gnats.

Walfort catches my eye, and we smile. We use the Windy Wand Spell to blow oranges, apples, and plums over Trunket’s head. The gnats chase the fruit and meet with our turtle’s quick jaws.

Problem solved, and Trunket has a good lunch.

The master of ceremonies cancels the remainder of the conference because he can’t get pine sap out of his robes.

Zofan approaches us. His eyebrows twitch. “Walfort and Gwynfar, extra chores and double practice. Together you disrupted today’s proceedings, so together you’ll pay the consequences.”

Walfort sighs. “We did it, Gwynfar. Think you can get us out of Zofan’s punishment, too?”

Zofan’s eyes twinkle under his bristling eyebrows.

I grin. “I don’t think so, but at least I avoided my presentation until next year.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arlan Gerig has a love for fantasy and sci-fi that is often reflected in his writing. Arlan has several stories published with Havok and has a YA sci-fi novel currently under construction. He has also recently fulfilled a goal: a long overdue missions trip to the Bahamas to help Haitian refugees. Arlan lives with his wife, three kids, two dogs, and a cat.

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