#wizard castle

It was a long march up the mountain. The salamander seemed to have taken a liking to Katya, trundling alongside her some distance ahead of Terry and Stevenus. “I see she’s gotten over her revulsion for rubbery frog-lizards,” he said in Terry’s ear. “Sylphs can be quite temperamental, especially around fire. Let us hope we catch her in a good mood.”

Terry’s legs were beginning to ache again. The trees grew thinner here, and he didn’t like that they were heading in the opposite direction to where they needed to go if they wanted to reach a town or at least a paved road by sunset. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that made it harder to see in the distance. At this rate they’d be better off setting up camp. And finding a good spring where they could refill their flasks.

At last they came to a rocky outcrop. Terry took in the stunning view of the darkening valley below. Streaks of clouds blazed orange and gold behind indigo hills. The air was wonderfully cool on his face after the heat of the day. The salamander craned its head over the edge of a cliff and waggled gently from side-to-side. Closing its eyes, it raised its chin, arching its neck up at nearly a right angle. After a minute or so in this pose, it crawled backwards a few paces and turned around to face them.

Mist rose from the ground, swirling and eddying up like a wisp of smoke from a campfire. Terry and Katya instinctively stepped back.

“Hello, newt.”

Even the salamander backed a few steps away from the column of circling air. Only Stevenus stood his ground. A woman’s face coalesced in front of them, looking like ink on smoke. Similar to the water nymph, she was preternaturally beautiful. In a voice like crystal she said, “Allow us to confer privately.”

Terry, Katya and Stevenus retreated into the woods until they were out of earshot of the two beings. Terry watched in awe at the giant amphibian speaking to the roiling dark mist. Both were in silhouette, the sunset like an intense fire burning behind them.

“They appear to be in agreement,” Stevenus rasped. “I should warn you—they don't like each other. See, each of them has an ancestor who pursued the same Greek God and they’ve feuded ever since.” He smiled sheepishly at Terry, then glanced sideways at Katya. Even in the fading light he could see her cheeks turn red.

The swirl of fog dissipated and the salamander ambled down to them. “She’s agreed to grant you permission to leave the grounds of Archon castle. She will assure favourable winds and inclement weather for you.”

“Excellent!” Stevenus clapped his hands together.

“Now what?” Terry asked, glancing around for a level area to set up camp. While it was nice and dry up here, there was little shelter under the scraggly evergreens. He’d also rather spread his blanket on soft ground rather than this hard, uneven rock.

“We’ll find the nymph and tell her you’ve fulfilled the demands of her quest.” The salamander’s tail swayed gently as it led them toward a clump of trees. “Tomorrow.”

Terry wanted to pull Stevenus aside to ask him how much they should trust this creature. If at all. Unfortunately, Katya wanted to stay close to the salamander and Stevenus seemed intent on staying close to Katya. They headed down a different trail than the one they’d climbed, and found a small clearing beneath several large maple trees.

Stevenus began gathering twigs for a campfire. Just like two nights earlier, Katya and Terry set softball-sized rocks in a circle. Stevenus arranged the twigs upright against each other in the shape of a teepee. Once he was done, he patted his pockets. “Damn, I forgot I gave my lighter to Bill. Terry, do you have matches on you?”

Terry shook his head and eyed Katya. She shook her head too.

“Allow me.” The salamander opened its mouth and let out a deep breath. With a whoomf! the twigs were ignited as if they’d been soaked in gasoline. The campfire crackled and blazed.

Terry glanced around for other objects he could ask the salamander to set fire to. He caught Katya’s darting eyes and guilty smile and wondered whether she was having the exact same thought. He’d never been interested in keeping a pet before, but what could be cooler than one that could set things alight!

It took Terry, Stevenus, and Katya nearly an hour to clamber down the winding trail to the bottom of the steep hill. Terry took a final leap off a fallen boulder and rolled onto the overgrown grass and weeds. He’d never been more happy to find himself on level, solid ground once more. Instinctively he ducked into the shadows just as a giant spotlight swept across the valley floor.

“Ow! You’re on my foot!” Katya hissed.

Whispering apologies, Stevenus bumped against Terry as he moved off of her. “Okay Terry, do you see a path leading into the woods on the far side?”

Terry stared across the field, the spotlight illuminating tree trunks and undergrowth marking the edge of the forest in their headlight glare. A path mattered less for now than taking the shortest route. Between them and the safety of the woods was an expanse of perfectly flat, even terrain they still had to cross. The air outside the castle walls was much cooler. Mist swirled all around. High above, the moon shone bright as burning manganese. The strange beauty cast by the eerie light captivated him. If only he could savour this moment and imprint it on his mind so he could draw it later. Just breathing the scented moist air was a memory he wanted to store as well, along with the ethereal call of whippoorwills.

“I counted ten seconds between sweeps,” Katya whispered, breaking Terry’s reverie.

He felt an unpleasantness similar to waking up on a Monday morning with a full week of school ahead. Releasing a sigh, he said, “I figure that closest copse of pines is around a hundred and ten yards from here.” Being roughly the same length as the soccer field at his school, his guess looked about right.

“And the world’s fastest sprinters run it at nine point something seconds,” Katya said.

“That’s meters though,” Terry said. “I think.”

“What’s our alternative?” Stevenus hunkered between them and slung an arm over each of their shoulders. “We’ve come this far. No going back now.”

“I can do it.” Katya rose to her feet. She pursed her lips, her face a picture of fierce determination.

“I’ll go first,” Stevenus said. “I broke the track record for sprinting at my school five years in a row—if I can’t make it across, no one will.”

“No.” Katya’s a voice was as full of sheer grit as the expression she wore. “I have the most to gain by escaping. If I’m caught, you two can just go back and pretend nothing happened. Me, I’ve got a very nasty, painful whip cracking in my ears.”

She pressed her heel against a rock, waited for the shaft of light from the watchtower to coruscate across the field, and bolted forward. Terry and Stevenus leapt to their feet, cheering her on, her dark hair lashing behind her like the tail of a glorious racehorse in the final stretch. By the time the next beam flashed by, all they could see were the tree trunks on the far side, the spotlight creating a moving circle of leprechaun green against the blackness.

“Shall we flip a coin as to who goes next?” Stevenus asked, slapping Terry’s back.

“I’ll go last,” he said and Stevenus took Katya’s spot in front of the rock. The spotlight streaked across, the Chosen One shot through the grass and, like Katya, he’d as good as vanished into the undergrowth by the time the light made its next sweep. All Terry saw was the white blur of his running shoes as he dove into the bracken.

Terry pressed his back against the boulder and flattened his palms against it, the stone velvety with moss. He watched the grass illuminated before him like the headlights of a turning car. Apart from his heaving chest, he was paralyzed. He couldn’t do it. This wasn’t like a track meet, with all his schoolmates cheering him on, even ones who didn’t particularly like him the rest of the time. He’d only managed to get past the giants because he hadn’t had the chance to think.

He watched, hypnotized, as the light fled across the grass with the speed of a leaping gazelle. Or the cheetah tearing after it. Two shadowy figures on the far side of the grassy expanse gesticulated madly for him to come across. All the muscles in his legs and arms seized up. He couldn’t move. He watched them, anguished, as they ducked out of sight just in time for the next lighthouse turn of the spotlight. It sped past his eyes like a strobe light, each turn going faster and faster, flickering, then steady like the old film reel projector his teacher had hauled in when her laptop had crapped out.

The breeze carried Stevenus and Katya’s tiny voices to his ears, cheering for him to join them. He couldn’t. He was filled with the same stupid, pointless sensation of skipping school only to find himself bored at some shopping mall where one of his parents’ friends was bound to catch sight of him. All this was going to do was bring more trouble heaping down on him. Katya was free and she had Stevenus to look after her. Terry was as useful to them as a third wheel on a bike. On top of that, he’d forgotten his backpack in the wooden box at the end of his makeshift bed. It hadn’t even occurred to him to bring it with him! Or water, food, a blanket. They didn’t even have their robes anymore.

Voices floated from somewhere above and to his left. Adepts were coming down the trail. Terry gestured for his friends to carry on without him; if was caught he could just play hero and claim he tried to chase after them, while giving them one final head start by lying about the direction they’d fled. And then what? He’d never been a good liar—they’d find him out at once. A stone the size of a golf ball tumbled down from somewhere above. It ricocheted off the boulder behind him and rolled across the grass. A rune had been drawn in chalk on the surface.

That evening Terry lay on his side, staring at the neatly folded burlap sacks sitting on the three bales of hay across from him. He wondered if Katya was also lying wide awake right now, and if she’d resigned herself to fate or whether she knew someone was coming to rescue her. He missed her presence. He imagined this must be how parents felt gazing into empty rooms while their kids were off at summer camp or staying overnight at a friend’s place. Maybe not his parents, but other people’s.

He rolled onto his back and pondered the foolishness of their plan. All week he’d been toying with ideas of escape but he didn’t think he’d actually try to again. Not after that failed attempt leaving the village. Besides getting past the walls of Archon Castle, he had no idea what lay beyond or how much forest they’d have to trek through to reach the nearest village. Doing so by day would be hard enough. At night? They’d have to camp in the woods until daylight and that’s assuming no bears or mountain lions tried eating them in the meantime.

Bile welled up in his throat as he sat upright. His insides churned. I can do this! he told himself. He forced himself onto his feet. He crept out the room full of sleeping neophytes, past the stalls of whickering horses and out into the courtyard. The moonlight was so brilliant it was as if security perimeter spotlights surrounded the tops of every building and were blazing down on him.

Although it would take a good ten minutes longer, he skulked around the darkest sides of the courtyard, keeping in the shadows of the buildings rather than dashing across the centre. He felt a little safer once he reached the narrow lane way. This area had become as familiar as his own back yard at home. He continued at a steady pace, stopping only once he reached the road leading past the big spidery building.

Tonight the Arcanum was a beehive of activity. Performing magic rites during a full moon was such a cliché that Terry had doubted wizards or witches did anything during that phase. Watching robed silhouettes dart past brightly illuminated windows, he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong.  

As Adepts and Initiates streamed between various archways in the Arcanum and the surrounding buildings, Terry tried to work out a route that would get him to the far side without attracting their notice. Buildings for dormitories and labs lay to his right. The lanes that ran between them were twistier and full of doorways, giving him way more places to hide, but there were also more people around who could catch him out. To his left were more open areas, but way fewer people coming and going.

He froze, sensing something that made prickles creep up his spine. Footsteps shuffled somewhere behind him. He backed away from the mouth of the alley and stared around, paying especially close attention to any figures in his peripheral vision. No one. Ears piqued, he made his way back down the alley and headed along a winding lane that would take him behind one of the barns. From there he could reach the far side of the Arcanum without crossing anyone else’s path.

He’d just passed the hayloft where he and Stevenus had been shovelling the other day when he heard two voices coming from the direction of the main courtyard with the well. Terry dashed into the nearest, darkest archway. The entrance was set deep into the stone building and should be dark enough to conceal him. The door behind him was ajar, he realised, bumping it partway open as he stumbled backwards across the threshold. Lavender and rosemary wafted in front his nostrils. This was where they’d sorted bundles of herbs to sell at the village market.

The voices grew louder. Footsteps tapped on cobblestones. Terry tried to remember the layout of the massive room behind him in case he needed to hide. One of the windows had fairly heavy drapes. They didn’t go all the way to the floor, though. Or he could squeeze himself into that cabinet where they kept all the gauze and ribbon. Except he’d to move out all of those boxes first.

“Only ten lashes? I keep saying Archon Castle has a terrible double-standard where girls are concerned.” Ms. Huston was one of the people approaching. Panic swelled in him. He held his breath and tried not to move a muscle. They were almost upon him and if they came through this way, he was done for. “And Julianne. If she thinks by getting on her knees for Elliot the Enchanter that she has a better chance at—”

“Ten lashes will suffice, believe me,” a throaty male voice said. They were now close enough for Terry to hear their robes swishing in time with their footsteps. Sweat trickled down his back. He caught sight of a flash of gold, glittering like a shooting star. They had stopped in the alleyway, less than five feet from him.

Ms. Huston wagged her long, scrawny finger into the Master Adept’s face. “I saw her coming out of his office wiping her face and with a smile that—”

“Shht!”

Terry edged into the room and knocked against an umbrella stand.

“Did you hear that?” The Master Adept’s face was in shadow but the hem of his robe shimmered and glittered, almost alive. Filled with dread, Terry watched the Master craned his head into the alcove. He pressed his back against the wall and tried not to flinch. “Why’s that open?”

“We’re running late!” Ms. Huston grabbed his arm. “That door’s always left ajar in case of fire and everyone has to get out quickly.”

“Very well. I still say ten is enough, though. That whip is very painful.”

The Master Adept and Ms. Huston continued along the alley. Terry wished he could see the look on her face upon hearing of Katya’s escape. “You don’t know the half of it! Those girls need to learn that—”

“One lash will give her a big enough welt that she won’t be able to sit for a week. Ten and she’s going to need stitches all up and down her back.”

Stitches? This was barbaric! Terry let out a stifled choke. Both Adepts whipped their heads around. Oh, crap. Terry clasped his hand over his mouth and tried not to whimper. Nausea welled into his chest. He prayed his stomach would hold until they were gone again.

“Come on, we’re late!” Ms. Huston gripped the Adept’s sleeve and dragged him along. “We’ll send an elf to investigate.”

The next morning, Ms. Huston led everyone into the main courtyard where, as always, they were assigned their duties. Two dozen were sent into the village on horse-carts piled full of wares. Another dozen were sent to feed the various livestock, and Terry was singled out to spend the day shovelling sheep and goat poo. On his way to the barn, he was joined by a crimson-faced Katya.

Neither of them spoke as they walked past the field where two dozen sheep were grazing. Each time Terry tried to ask her a question she angrily shushed him. By the time they arrived at the goat pen, Stevenus had already filled the first wheelbarrow and was halfway to filling a second one. Pure rage fuelled his shovelling. He couldn’t have been here long.

“Behind me.” He jerked his head at the two empty wheelbarrows leaning against the wall. Terry and Katya got to work and kept clear of him. While Terry took secret pleasure in witnessing the Chosen One being taken down a peg, the punishment did seem overly harsh. It was even worse for Katya. Her build was so slight that she struggled with all forms of manual labour, even with jobs Terry found fairly easy. Worse, all morning she practically killed herself trying to keep up with Stevenus’s pace.

“Here, let me help,” Terry said, grabbing one of the wheelbarrow handles. She was stubbornly trying to drag a fully laden barrow with a wonky wheel out into the yard by herself.

She slapped his hand away. “Would you quit that!”

“Fine.” Terry let her go thinking, at least there’s only one month left of this.

“So much for your fantasies of escape,” Stevenus sneered. “Isn’t that why I caught you skulking around the other night? Surely you weren’t spying on me.”

Now that Katya was out of earshot he hissed, “So much for your fantasies of being a modern-day Lothario—I saw that look on Julianne’s face when Martin the—”

“I’m impressed you’re familiar with the term.” Stevenus dug his shovel deep into a mound of dark brown pellets the size of golf balls.  

Terry knew he meant it as an insult, so he dropped it for now and went to work in an area where the pellets were firmer and less mushy. A few minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was uncalled for and I do apologise.”

“Accepted.” Terry loaded his wheelbarrow and dragged it outside to the mound where Katya was still trying to dump her own load. “This is literally the crappiest summer of my entire life.”

Katya said nothing in response, but she did stand aside so he could turn his wheelbarrow up on end, spilling the pellets out, and let him dump hers as well. They trudged back inside, the now-empty metal trays amplifying the rattling wheels. Stevenus, teeth gritted, resumed shovelling like a machine.

Terry had had enough. He leaned on his spade and said, “We’re stuck here up to our knees in crap for the rest of the summer, not learning a single solitary shred of magic, no better than indentured slaves! My parents live in a mansion near the ocean with a pool in the back yard the size of a small lake.” He stared at each of them alternately. Both had stopped moving, but weren’t looking at him yet.

“My parents are filthy rich,” he continued. “Or they can afford to pretend to be. Anyway, their pool is heated to perfection, it has a waterfall at one end, a three-story slide, and an Olympic-height diving platform. That’s what we could be enjoying right now instead of hauling water and shucking vegetables and chopping wood and all this—this—” He yelled, all his repressed rage pouring out of his lungs. He kicked over the wheelbarrow and hurled his shovel, sending it crashing against the wooden wall of the barn. God, that felt good.

“Terry!” Stevenus grabbed his arm and began shaking him. “Pull yourself together!”

Embarrassed, Terry hung his head in silence.

“We’ll manage, okay? I have a plan.” Stevenus herded Terry and Katya into an alcove beneath the stairs leading up to the hayloft. “In Arcanum Hall there is a book ...”

Terry groaned and tore away from him. The entire time he’d wavered between thinking magic just might be real, and the certainty it was all an illusion. Even the trick the other day of making the shovel move on its own could have been done with cleverly attached wires; it wasn’t as if he’d looked closely at the time. Those beings in the dining hall could be children forced to wear prosthetics and heavy makeup, and those giants by the wall an even more clever illusion like holographic projections or massive automatons. For all he knew this latest was a ploy by Stevenus to knock off more competitors. He’d already confirmed Pudding Bowl was one of his rivals. “And your plot involves one of us trying to sneak the book out, right?”

“It does,” Stevenus admitted. Even Katya looked less keen to go along. She busied herself picking at grime under her fingernails and shooting each of them dirty looks.

“One thing I learned is that security here isn’t that strict. If we hadn’t been betrayed …” He eyed Katya, then Terry.

Surely Stevenus didn’t think … that he … Even when he’d hated the man he’d balked at ratting him out on principal alone. Betraying a friend was unthinkable. That was why he took so long making friends—once he did choose one, he was loyal to the bitter end. “Julianne,” escaped Terry’s mouth before he had the chance to stop it.

To his surprise, Stevenus shook his head. Katya didn’t even flinch at the name. “In spite of the punishments meted out last night, the Order of Nine takes group cohesiveness very seriously. Whoever tattled on us would be blowing their own chances of joining, and they’d be warned of such before speaking to them. I suspect at some point I failed to exercise enough caution. Either one of the Master Adepts or the elves has ears even keener than I, and overhead everything.”

“You mean those black-robed things?” Katya asked, “They don’t look like elves!”

“Yes, they are elves and no, they look nothing like they’re described in stories. However I never reckoned they knew English beyond basic commands, and perhaps I didn’t pay enough heed to their whereabouts when conferring in the dining hall.”

Terry wasn’t reassured, but let it go for now. He’d seen Julianne’s smirk. He knew a tattletale when he saw one thanks to his elder sister.

“At any rate, there’s this one book which contains a spell that can reverse what Martin cast on me last night, and there are multiple copies of it lying about everywhere. They’re as common as hymn books in a church. All we require, is one.”

“I’ll do it,” Terry sighed, wishing he didn’t have this need to constantly prove himself.

“Good. Try to fetch one tomorrow night after lights out. They’re easy to recognise because they’re always bound in dark red leather, with a gold nine-pointed star on the cover. In the library, Arcanum Hall and all the administrative offices you’ll see them lying around like dictionaries or computer manuals.”

An hour later, Terry and Katya stood in the middle of the throng of blue-robed neophytes gathered in the main courtyard. A wooden platform had been erected in front of the keep. Pudding Bowl stood cuffed between the two Master Adepts who’d caught him. Martin the Magnificent took position on the dais in front of them and raised his upturned palms.

Katya took Terry’s fingers in hers and locked them together. They were bound together in this In spite of his anxiety he relished the moment. Her skin was soft and warm. He didn’t dare check around for Stevenus, but assumed he was somewhere in their ranks. Once everyone had quieted, Martin the Magnificent drew in the air with his right index finger. The gesture reminded Terry of their first afternoon at Archon Castle. He thought back with bitter nostalgia, at how naïve and hopeful he’d been.

“IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT ONE OF OUR MEMBERS HAS BEEN TRYING TO CHEAT THE SELECTION PROCESS. FINDING THE BEST CANDIDATES FOR INITIATION BY THE MOST EQUITABLE MEANS HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE PRIMARY GOAL FOR ARCHON CASTLE. FOR EVERY ONE WHO ATTEMPTS TO SEEK UNFAIR ADVANTAGE, ALL OF US SUFFER FOR IT.”  

Bulsht! Katya sneezed. A pretend sneeze, since she didn’t sniffle or wipe her nose. Terry squeezed her hand. Martin the Magnificent turned and extended his arm towards Pudding Bowl. “OUR INVESTIGATIONS HAVE REVEALED THE RINGLEADER ALONG WITH TWO ACCOMPLICES.”

Terry gulped, his heart thrashing in his chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage. Katya gripped his hand. Her fingernails dug into his palm.

“EARLIER OUR COUNCIL OF NINE CONVENED TO EXAMINE ALL OF THE EVIDENCE PUT FORWARD BY A VARIETY OF WITNESSES. I STAND BEFORE YOU NOW TO DELIVER JUDGMENT UPON THE ACCUSED.” Addressing Pudding Bowl, Martin the Magnificent said, “RALPHIE DIGGUMS.”

Sniggers erupted all around. Even Terry managed a snort. Little Pudding Bowl, with his horribly dated haircut, chubby cheeks and turned-up nose looked like a “Ralphie” and now Terry couldn’t imagine him with any other name. And Diggums—what kind of surname was that? No wonder he didn’t want to share it with anyone.

“RANDOLPH RAPHAEL DIGGUMS-MCGINLEY, GRANDSON OF THOMAS THE TRANSCENDOR, FORMER WIZARD ADEPT OF THE WESTERN SEAS, ONE-TIME MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL OF NINE AND WIZARD OF THE SEVEN PLANETS, IS FOUND GUILTY! STEP FORWARD.”

Ralphie shuddered. He advanced one step, shivering like a wet newborn kitten. Everyone was serious again, as though Martin the Magnificent was in the mood to smite a random neophyte from the Earth and in the midst of selecting just who that should be.

“YOUR SENTENCE IS EXPULSION FROM ARCHON CASTLE. YOU WILL SPEND THE REMAINDER OF THE SUMMER IN MONONGAHELA DUNGEON INCLUDING ONE MONTH HARD LABOUR. FOR THE DURATION YOU WILL BE STRIPPED OF YOUR MAGIC AND FORBIDDEN FROM POSSESSION OF ANY MAGICAL IMPLEMENTS UPON PENALTY OF DEATH.”

Everyone gasped. Terry ached for Ralphie, little Pudding Bowl, quivering before Martin the Magnificent, his face red and slick with tears. Hard labour! The boy looked as though he was barely ten, although Terry had been told he was well into his teens. He looked too young to face death as a possible punishment. And what due process had there been? His dad’s best friend Pete was a lawyer. The sort of lawyer where the second he pulled up in his silver McLaren Spider, you knew his side was going to win the case. If Terry escaped, Pete would take care of things. Especially if he presented the man with his exposé on top of that. Pete loved all forms of media attention.

While Ralphie was led off the dais by two Master Adepts, Terry tried to make eye-contact with him to let him know it wasn’t over yet. He’d get Pudding Bowl the best lawyer in the country. But the boy’s head was hung too low and his blond hair was drawn across his face like a curtain.

Sniffling loudly, Katya threw her arms around Terry. She sobbed into his chest. Not sure what to do, but welcoming the way she clung to him, he stroked her soft hair. He cooed into her ear as if he was trying to coax a frightened puppy out from under the couch during a thunderstorm. “We’ll do something, I swear. We’ll find a way to help him get out and—”

“Shh.” She stiffened. She pulled away from him and faced the dais. Terry looked too.  Stevenus was being made to stand in front of Martin the Magnificent, though at least he wasn’t bound. His hands hung freely by his sides.

The Wizard Adept did his hand thing in the air. His voice returned from the heights of a booming echo to one delivered by the wind into every neophyte’s ear. “I present to you Stevenus Steven-Svenborn, great-great-great-grandson of, Sebastian Stevenus Svenborn, Ascended Wizard Master of the Nine Seas, Seven Mountains and the Eleven Realms. I charge him with being co-conspirator along with Randolph Raphael Diggums-McGinley to rig the Initiate selection process in favour of what they both see as the old guard against all newcomers and interlopers.”

Outraged gasps and other sounds of indignation rippled around the neophytes including Julianne, who stood some ten feet away on his left and was glaring straight at him. Out of the blue Terry felt a stunned sensation similar to a bully randomly shoving him against his locker. Surely Stevenus hadn’t been that stupid. But as Martin the Magnificent raised his hand to quiet everyone, a subtle, a triumphant smirk spread on the auburn-haired girl’s face. It looked like the player had been played. Perhaps Stevenus deserved some form of punishment, but what had Pudding Bowl ever done to her?

Martin the Magnificent continued, “Because Stevenus merely assisted in the conspiracy, he faces a lesser charge, and therefore a lesser sentence. For the rest of his stay at Archon Castle he will be on stall-cleaning duty and …” The Adept turned and, sly as it was, smiled for the first time that Terry could remember. “For the remainder of his stay, he will be stripped of any powers. He is forbidden from possessing any pens, pencils or chalk with which to create sigils. If caught using any of his fingers, those shall be removed from his hand. One. By. One.”

A fresh, sickening horror sank into Terry as Stevenus was led off the platform. Unlike Pudding Bowl, who now sat in a cart being drawn by the mangiest, most decrepit nag in the stables, he was simply escorted towards the barn on the far side of the garden where the goats and sheep were kept. What were they going to do to him to remove his magic? Terry tried not to think about it, but then his mind went to where they were taking Pudding Bowl. Ralphie.

The rest of the neophytes were dismissed and ordered to retire to their beds. On their way to the horse stables, Katya whispered angrily to Terry, “That was so unfair. It was just a prank! They hadn’t even succeeded in it! In Stevenus’s great-grandfather’s day they used to pull pranks on each other all the time! A neophyte wasn’t even considered worthy unless they made at least one attempt!”

A nearly-full moon hung low in the sky. Terry trailed the salesman into a long, narrow passage. The horse’s hooves produced sharp echoes against the surrounding stone buildings. The slow pace gave Terry plenty of time to add this unfamiliar part of Archon Castle grounds to his mental map. They crossed a brick-lined road and an acrid, chemical smell flooded into his nostrils. They must be passing by that alchemy lab he kept hearing about. Blue flashes lit up the small-paned windows like a television set.

The lane widened. The salesman tugged the horse’s reins to make it turn sharply left. Terry followed him past a squat stone building resembling a bunker. Assorted pipes sprouted from one side and disappeared under the glassy surface of a giant pool of water. Water and … He plugged his nose and held his breath in until they were upwind. Whatever that smell was, it stank as bad as raw sewage. Now that he thought about it, it probably was sewage. Of course all the Adepts and staff would have proper flush toilets, rather than having to go in the outhouse behind the stables like the neophytes did.

The man on horseback headed to the northern gate. Terry wondered if he was stupidly wasting his time when he could be snatching a few hours of sleep. What was he going to do—confront the man, try stealing his case, search him for a receipt covering his bribe? For nearly three-quarters of an hour he’d been tailing him. The man’s horse broke into a trot and Terry raced to keep up. He was thankful he’d donned quiet footwear. The soft leather soles barely made a swishing sound on the cobblestones. The lane twisted and turned past low, darkened buildings that appeared to be workshops. He lost sight of the horse, but could hear hoofs beating somewhere up ahead. The grounds of the castle were way bigger than he’d originally thought. Practically a small city was contained within the crumbling walls.

Crumbling … He recalled that first day outside of the castle grounds and that tower that looked like it had been kicked over by a giant. So that wasn’t an illusion. Part of the outer wall really had collapsed. If so, he had a decent idea where they were now, in relation to the world outside.

They turned yet another corner and Terry spotted a watch tower jutting above the peaked, slate rooftops. They must be somewhere between the western and northern gates now, he reckoned. The lane ended abruptly and the rider stopped at the edge of a vast field. This was definitely the same part of the wall Terry had seen on his way in. There must be a way through; why else would the horseman head that way. He hid behind a pile of wooden casks and watched.

The stench of fermenting beer and wine was strong, but not unpleasant. From here, Terry could see a sizable opening between the fallen boulders—large enough to drive a truck through. An enormous armoured statue stood on each side of the craggy tunnel. One shifted, and then the other. Terry could hardly believe his eyes; these guards had to be two stories tall. They lowered their spears across the entrance until the horse came to a full stop. After a brief exchange of grunts, the guards returned to position with their spears at their sides. The salesman went into what appeared to be the entrance of a long tunnel. Terry let out a resigned sigh.

All this information he had gathered and not one shred of proof. If he tried submitting an expose, it would be Archon Castle’s word against his. As a fifteen-year-old boy entering grade eleven, he knew what his was word alone was worth. A big fat zero. He was about to head back to the stables when something switched in his brain. Those guards. If only he could somehow get a picture of those guards.

Their sheer bulk filled him with awe. The salesman, riding atop a very tall horse, had scarcely come to their chests. These were no men guarding the entrance here—they were giants! They were bigger than the biggest wrestling stars his dad liked to watch. Even without their armour their bodies were mountainous. Their skin had a greyish tinge that didn’t appear to be just the moonlight and clouds. Their broad faces were covered in leather masks. Yellow, lizard-like eyes glinted beneath. In spite of all the drudgery, the sight of these mysterious beings renewed Terry’s hopes of learning real magic.

He backed into the lane, unable to take his eyes off of them. They looked like statues again with skin taking on a stony cast. The eyes seemed lifeless now. Maybe they grew animated only when someone approached. Their uniforms of thick leather and metal plating made him think of Roman Centurions although the designs were nothing alike. Terry yawned. He really should start heading back. He hadn’t yet seen any patrols, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

Heading back to the stables, he was torn. His mind raced as he slipped back through the maze of alleys. On the one hand all the neophytes were being ruthlessly exploited in their hopes of securing a scant handful of Initiate spots. Two of those were probably already filled before any of them had even stepped foot in Archon Castle. Yet he still had the chance of a lifetime to experience things beyond his imaginings. He wasn’t ready to give up yet.

Terry lay on his back, trying to ignore the stiff ends of straw poking into his neck. Always have a back-up plan, was a phrase his dad had drilled into his head his entire life. Even if he was being included in one silly stunt, he couldn’t lose focus. He didn't trust Stevenus. He only liked the Chosen One whenever he was in his immediate presence, as if taken in by a hypnotic cologne. He needed to stick to his original plan: his exposé. Lights were out and Terry didn't want to see Katya returning yet again with that stupid grin on her face, so he donned his robe. He needed to learn more about what went on at Archon Castle.

The air was a lot cooler when he came out of the stables. Wind blew steadily from the north. The moon was nearly full, bathing the courtyards and alleyways in bright silver light. He headed for the eastern side of the castle, which he’d yet to explore. The wizards and master adepts had to keep offices somewhere. Stevenus had described their administrative building to him and the others, but not the exact location. All Terry knew was they weren’t in those towering gothic buildings he’d seen, nor in the upper floors of the academic halls.

His footsteps made barely any noise in his new leather-soled sandals. He found his way to the sandstone building where they’d had their math lessons and wandered through a warren of alleyways that ran behind. None of the low stone buildings he passed gave any indication of their purpose. Most had no windows and only a few had doors. At the end of a widening lane, Terry came before an edifice that looked as if the two grandest buildings he’d seen at Archon Castle had mated and produced a child. It was smaller than either, and spindly with flying buttresses and archways and towering spires. Gargoyles populated every horizontal surface like gruesome birds. Monstrous, fantastical creatures were carved into the lintels over every doorway, archway and all around the mullioned windows. It must have taken decades to build. And cost a fortune.

With such architectural extravagance, no wonder Archon Castle went to such lengths to earn money. Even philosopher’s stones working day and night wouldn’t turn enough lead into gold to pay for all this. And … was lead all that cheap nowadays?

Terry crept up to the nearest ground-floor window. The stained glass showed a pastoral image similar to ones in an old church. Terry peered through a sheep made from clear glass. The dining hall for the neophytes look like a mud hut by comparison. Grander than a five-star hotel, grander than one of those estates where they threw the Gatsby parties his parents liked to attend. More crystals sparkled from chandeliers than there were stars in the sky. A forest’s worth of tropical wood had been carved into chairs and cabinets and serving implements. The giant trestle table taking up the middle of the great hall was so large it must have been hewn from a sequoia.

He sniffed, catching scents of steaks accompanied by reduction sauces, truffles, and buttery lobster. The dining area was empty, save for a few tiny folk in black robes dusting and putting away silverware. Not silver, Terry realized, squinting, but goldware. Keeping low, he headed into some sort of cloister. Moonlit arches cut a ladder of light and shadow across his path. At the far end, a window glowed like a beacon in fog. A basement window. He drew closer and the sweet-vanilla smell of a pipe filled the humid air. He dropped to his hands and knees to peer inside. The window was covered with a lace curtain. He could see in well enough, but they shouldn’t be able to see him.

Two men sat across from each other at a sturdy oak desk. The only light came from a banker’s lamp between them. The darker-haired man wore the burgundy robe of a Master Adept. It took Terry several seconds to realise it was Martin the Magnificent. Something about him looked … switched off, like a darkened bulb that was normally brightly illuminated. The other man was dressed in a bespoke suit of fine, dark grey wool with light grey pinstripes. A large wooden case lay open beneath the lamp. The interior was lined in plush blue velvet. Light glinted off assorted crystal balls inside.

Martin lifted out one that was roughly the size of a tennis ball and held it up to the light. He narrowed his eyes to peer through it. “There’s a faint flaw in this one.”

The man in the suit said, “We’re discontinuing that line. While Arcane Glass Co. was an excellent company, since our purchase we’ve been working to eliminate any products we find are substandard.” He coughed lightly into his fist. “Which is why for that particular one, I’m permitted to offer a fifty percent discount.”

Martin arched an eyebrow at him. “Esoteric Wands and Sceptres was recently bought out by your company too, wasn’t it?”

“Along with Occult Oculars and Cabalistic Candles Emporium.”

“Hm.” Martin set the crystal back in the case, examined a smaller one under the light of his desk lamp, and set it back too. “These are rather more expensive than our previous suppliers.”

The man bent down out of Terry’s sight, probably fetching something from a case by his feet. He sat upright again and lay a shiny, glittery tubular object on the desk. “I nearly forgot. A humble token of appreciation my boss sent along, for agreeing to meet with me this evening.”

Martin the Magnificent’s eyes widened as though he were gazing upon the Ark of the Covenant. He moved his hand to touch it and hesitated. “I’ve been looking for one of these for years!”

Terry suppressed a snort. The man in the suit reminded him so much of his dad’s best friend Pete it was scary. They looked nothing alike, but both men had that same smarmy countenance, sleek and slick and oozing with self-importance. The token was humble in the same way that Stevenus Steven-Svenborn, great-great-great-grandson of Sebastian Stevenus Svenborn, Ascended Wizard Master of the Nine Seas, Seven Mountains and the Eleven Realms was deferential and unassuming. As in, not at all. This offering looked extremely expensive. The way Martin the Magnificent held one end of the object to one eye, Terry guessed it was a spyglass of some kind. One made of gold and encrusted with rubies and sapphires. He set it down, a smile quirking on his lips. “A lovely gesture.”

Both men cleared their throats. They resumed going through the crystals in the wooden box, pointedly ignoring the gift that may as well be a suitcase full of cash on the desk. Once they were done inspecting each glimmering ball, the man in the suit spread a sheet of black velvet over top. “I heard your nephew is a recent graduate, and is exploring his future career options.”

“Erm, yes.” Martin picked at something on his fingernails with the fierce concentration of someone dismantling a bomb. “I still have to get board approval about this purchase, but … I can be quite persuasive. Particularly with Sam the Significant, who has a history of …”

“We’ll be in touch.” The man closed and locked the case with aplomb, stood, and jutted out his right hand. “Mine is a very fast-growing company, with new positions open quite frequently. Your nephew might well be an excellent fit were he to submit his resume to personnel.”

Terry scrambled backwards into the darkness like a crab escaping a surging tide. He clamped his hand over his mouth. The meeting he’d witnessed reminded him way too much of conversations he’d overhead his dad conducting in his home office. On top of child labour, exorbitant prices for merchandise they sold to the village, and the ridiculous fees his parents had paid to attend this phony wizard camp, they were corrupt! He knew a bribe from a supplier when he saw one. His mum’s best friend was a real estate developer and she greased the palms of local politicians all the time. He’d hoped to learn magic so he could escape the world where everyone could be bought.

He clambered to his feet and staggered around the corner of the building. His knees buckled. He wanted to vomit, but somehow everything he’d eaten earlier stayed down. Cold wind blew across, which helped ease his stomach. He stayed in shadow well out of the light of the moon. He trudged closely next to the wall, committing everything he’d seen and heard to memory. He had more than enough for his exposé now.