Apprentice wizard—a glorious job fraught with adventure and magic, one sure to gain the attentions of the ladies. Especially if you’re not up to the whole hay baling and Adonis-body-building thing.
I rest my dirt-caked hands on my knees. Ha. Some adventure. Then again, pulling weeds is no small feat, especially
I was feeding the fish in my garden this morning when my left arm went numb. Then my legs crumpled underneath me, and I collapsed by the koi pond. I couldn’t catch my breath. Am I dying? Frantic, I started thrashing around—and slapped myself in the face with what used to be
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Haddie always loved summer. No sums, no figures, just sun rays and ocean waves.
But it seemed some people couldn’t relax, even if their lives depended on it.
A fifty-foot watery monster stood in front of her at the beach. Inside its liquid chest sat a boy, the root of all her problems—
Pounding on the door jolts me out of the haze between sleeping and waking. Remaining alert while resting is one useful trick I still use from my army days. I rise from my chair, brush the wrinkles out of my robes, and grab my lantern. Yawning, I stumble past the carved stone tombs
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Yesterday, I declared war.
On a bugle.
0600. Time for “Reveille.” Our base commander, Wizard-General Lytton, won’t waste even the newest recruit mage on that duty. A simple spell makes the bugle perpetually hovering by the flagpole sound any required call at the proper time.
Until yesterday. Ten seconds into the silence
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“So, does the bureau know why they sent us here?”
Sal shrugged while cramming fries in his mouth.
Jane waited for him to swallow. “They said a passing centaur reported all the other wilderkind in the area have gone silent.” She slapped his hand before he grabbed another burger. “Aren’t you worried?”
For Zadie, the first ninety-nine steps under the oppressive canopy of nighttime Pennsylvania woods were hard enough. The air was still and stagnant, and only thin shafts of moonlight pierced the darkness. But at the hundredth step, Zadie hesitated and took a deep breath. She had reached the point where she would have
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What’s the difference between a hero and a wimp?
I fall firmly in the latter category. I don’t sing in public. I don’t raise my hand in class.
My wimpiness wasn’t really a problem until last week. That’s when Aidan Peacebringer —beautiful Aidan, with his curly hair and goofy grin and not being
Attn: Wizard Mark Fennel
Magical Medical
Outgoing private comm records from Royal Wizard Greg Zaks
2.1.11
The headaches are back.
I know you diagnosed tension, but I’m convinced it’s something more. I can hear you saying, “They started when Flora disappeared. You have no prior history.” But they’ve lasted months.
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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Closing time at Knox’s Pawnshop—normally a routine matter of Herbert Knox securing that day’s profits and locking the entrance to his establishment—differed this particular evening in two respects. The new clerk, Nigel, ended his first day by sweeping the floor. And a growling, man-shaped beast began his first night as a werewolf
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That blasted bookworm is at it again.
I can hear his little munch munch munch all the way from the other side of the library. My mentor, Wizard Owyn, has told me countless times to ignore it while I am in his library. But I can’t help it—the wretched grub is eating the
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