I may look like the average Weimaraner, but I play a mean violin. I pick the strings, Scratch strums her zither, and Blizzard keeps time with his hooves. The sun sets on the horizon. Our animal band wraps up another day of jamming together in our overgrown, dilapidated cottage.
I sniff and…
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
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Lightning slashes the sky. “Walfort, take us back to land!” I yell into the storm. “We’ll look for Bessie another day.”
“Don’t be a wimp, Gwynfar. We told Zofan we would eliminate this sea serpent,” Walfort shouts. “I’m here because I’m a wand master and you’re a mediocre wizard. I’m not even sure you’re
I run to the cabin, desperate to warn Zofan about our impending calamity. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen “wizard” as my occupation. I burst inside and nearly collide with my mentor. He stops me with a scowl and folded arms.
“Gwynfar, look outside. Tell me what you see.”
I peek out the window
I look like a peacock in a lion’s den. My gaudy green robes swish across the smooth marble as I eye the four armored guards escorting us. We enter the throne room. I step behind Zofan, my mentor and fellow wizard, and twiddle my fingers.
The guards clomp to either side of King Roganvel’s
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