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
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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