But on the other hand . . . her father would most likely see assassins as an entertaining challenge.
And her boyfriend had been a valedictorian of Kraken Institute. He would have no trouble protecting himself, either.
And she had seen the direction the phoenix had flown. If she followed that path, perhaps she would find more phoenix allies there.
A slow smile spread across her face.
Bring it on.
She wasn’t vulnerable. She was powerful.
And she had outgrown this school.
Emily Martha Sorensen writes clean fantasy adventures with clever characters, fun plots, and lots of humor. She thinks the world needs more happiness and laughter, so she goes out of her way to create stories that provide them.
Probably her best books to start with are Black Magic Academy, which is about a good witch who gets sent to a school for wicked witches; The Keeper and the Rulership, in which magic systems have a tendency to grow old and die, like people; Dragon’s Egg, about a baby dragon in the 1920s; and Aquarius, which is a fantasy romance with a terrible curse.
She also has two webcomics: A Magical Roommate, which is complete, and To Prevent World Peace, which is currently updating.
You can learn more about her here: http://www.emilymarthasorensen.com
A Firm Hand
Aaron Van Treeck
This story was born out of a time crunch, several viewings of the movie "Patton", and a desire to see more than just kids get a chance to find a fantastical place where they learn how magical life can be. Unfortunately for them, adult education tends to come a bit more harshly and with more at stake. If a school for magic was to exist in modern-day America, this is how I thought it would probably shape up. As a writer, this is a world I would like to return to. I hope that you find it just as enjoyable.
A Firm Hand
“Welcome, inductees. And congratulations on being selected to serve your country!” The man walking in front of me and my fellow abductees was dressed like a 20th century Marine drill sergeant. We, by contrast, were wearing what we had been the moment we were plucked from our lives. I counted seven people besides myself, mostly men over twenty, but there were two very similar-looking women I assumed were sisters. All of us were locked rigidly at military attention, unable to move anything more than our eyes.
The place I’d been spirited away from was the 1st State Bank in Atlanta. I’d gone there begging for more time to pay off my loan, a more lenient pay schedule. I hadn’t gotten it. The world around me had started wavering, and I’d assumed my eyes were filled with tears. Then the world snapped back into place and every clock in the building had stopped, including people’s watches, cell phones, and computers. Then I was here, on a foggy military base, dressed in old fatigues and locked in place.
“It’s been my experience that you miserable little grems show up here without even the common courtesy of knowing why. So I’ll enlighten you. Each of you have performed a rudimentary act of magic. And when I say ‘rudimentary’ I mean you’ve just learned how to take a leak and decided to do it into a strong headwind.” I would have cringed at the vulgarity of his example, but I couldn’t even move my facial muscles. “What’s your name, grem?” the drill sergeant asked the young man in the middle of the line.
“What the hell is-oof!” He doubled over with the sergeant’s fist buried in his gut.
“Grem, it’s enough of a burden for the world that you’re allowed to speak at all. When I allow you to do so, I expect you to do nothing but answer my questions clearly, concisely, and competently. Now, let’s try this again, what’s your name?”
“...Tony.” he replied sullenly.
“Tony what?” the sergeant pushed.
“Tony Esposito.”
“Wrong. From now until I say, your name is Gremlin. Got that?” Tony shot the sergeant a hate-filled glare but flinched when the sergeant balled up his fist again.
“Yeah.” This time the sergeant cuffed him on the ear.
“Let me make this clear. When you address me, you will do so with respect. When you answer a question. you will say ‘sir’ or ‘sergeant’. Now—” he waved his hand at us, and we all stumbled a bit. It was an unnerving sensation, suddenly having full motor control again, like waking suddenly from a deep sleep. “—are there any questions?”
“Yes, sir.” I said. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an idiot, but I needed answers.
“Well? Spit it out, grem!”
“Would you please explain what’s going on? Sir?” I asked as politely as I could manage.
“Well, would you look at that. A grem with manners, will wonders never cease?” He stepped on my foot and punched me in the face. He hit me hard enough that I lost a couple seconds of time. When the lights came back on, I tasted blood in my mouth, and I saw the drill sergeant’s clean-shaven face only a few inches from my own. His pale skin and green eyes made me think Irish, and his cheap aftershave reminded me of my grandfather. “What’s going on is I own you. Until you either wash out or get your magic together enough to be useful to Uncle Sam. Or die. Now, get up so we can get this show on the road.” He stood back up and started walking up and down the line again, leaving me to pick myself up off the ground.
“Listen up. Before coming here. you were all assessed and judged to have enough potential to be useful. If you didn’t you would have been eliminated. Today, we’ll be starting with the concept of territory. This is particularly important because, at this moment, you are all standing in my territory.” The sergeant snapped his fingers, and we were all suddenly standing in what appeared to be a mess hall.
“I don’t know if this is a good trip or a bad one,” another of my fellow recruits muttered.
“In your territory, you have unrivaled power. You can make things appear or disappear. You can summon beings from other planes of existence, and you can make yourself appear to be—” the sergeant seemed to flicker. For a brief moment, I saw a wizened old man standing in the place of a middle-aged one, wearing a drab green robe instead of a military uniform. A moment later, it was a buxom blond in a camo bikini. Then the sergeant reappeared. “—whatever suits your purposes. Now, I’m going to give you little grems a chance to get to know each other and get some chow. Be back in 10 minutes.” The sergeant snapped his fingers and vanished.
This announcement left most of us in the lurch. Personally, I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing was real. But the hollowness in my chest made caution feel pointless. I reached for a plate of bacon before a hand grabbed my wrist.
“Are you nuts? That could be poisoned!” Tony Esposito looked a bit more careworn close-up. He was younger than me but I could see worry lines around his eyes and mouth. The wedding ring on the hand gripping my arm explained part of that. Kids might explain the rest. He had some tattoos that were pretty faded, probably from a misspent youth.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” I shook his hand off and grabbed a couple of strips of bacon, quickly stuffing them in my mouth and chewing. The rich, greasy taste made me pause for a moment and enjoy the old familiar flavor. I hadn’t had bacon in months. Only after swallowing did I notice everyone staring at me. “Seems fine,” I offered.
That was all everyone needed before they started grabbing food themselves. I ate more bacon, glad for the comfort it offered rather than being hungry.
“I’m Tony.” This time, it was a hand extended in greeting, rather than a restraint. I shook it. I have to admit, I liked his handshake. Firm, assertive, confident, but not a crushing grip.
“Thomas Reiss. Do you… remember how you got here?” Tony’s face fell and he shook his head. “Me, either.”
“You a family man?” he asked.
I must have looked confused because he pointed at my left hand. I noticed my wedding ring was there. That didn’t make any sense either, it should have been in the box on my nightstand along with—.
“I wasn’t wearing this before I got here. Hey, everyone! Do any of you remember t
he moment before you were brought here?”
“Um, kinda?” One of the sisters spoke up.
“We were getting matching tattoos at this place in the French Quarter.” The other sister answered more confidently. “I went first, and the last thing I remember was being nearly done. But we both have the tattoo.” The sisters held up their hands and showed everyone a neon purple and green skull on the backs of their left hands.
“My hair was dyed blonde.”
Interesting, maybe there was missing time between what we remember and when we arrived here.
“I lost my left hand two years ago,” said a short black man, holding up two whole and healthy hands. Scratch the missing time theory.
“I was in a wheelchair.” The guy who said that was middle-aged and overweight but clearly standing without any trouble. Magic was starting to seem like a plausible explanation for everything going on here. I turned to Tony and waited to see if he’d volunteer anything. He shrugged; he hadn’t seen any changes worth mentioning.
“Well, he did say we should get to know each other. I’m Thomas Reiss, from Savannah, Georgia.” I said this to the room as a whole, inviting everyone else to join in.
“Izzy, and my sister’s name is Julia. We’re from Baton Rouge.” the more assertive of the sisters said. They weren’t twins, but from a distance, it would be hard to tell them apart. Long dark hair with a bit of a wave, sun-kissed skin, and sharp features. Izzy was a bit shorter and her arms showed more clearly-defined muscles.
“Jackson Smith.” The man who’d been missing a hand said. His hair had been buzzed down close to the scalp. It gave him a clean-cut look that distracted somewhat from his shorter than average height. “I’m from Atlanta, Georgia.”
“Eddy Freisk, I’m from Tallahassee,” said the middle-aged man who’d claimed to have been wheel-chair bound. His ruddy face didn’t seem like it belonged to someone who lived under a Florida sun. He was the very picture of scruffy and unkempt, with a scraggly beard and long greasy hair.
“This is balls-out whacked,” said the youngest of the men who formed our group. He looked like a frat boy, with carefully styled hair, sculpted muscle, and a clean-shaven face.
“Are you high?” Tony asked, his face pulled into a contemptuous sneer.”
“No! Well, kinda. Those shrooms have a lot of kick. But I’m coming down so in a couple minutes this whole waking dream thing will be over,” the frat boy dismissed us and went back to the buffet of food. Tony walked over, a sharp spring in his step, and backhanded the young man across the face.
“Sober up! Did you not hear that freak earlier? We could die here, moron!”
“...I thought that was a joke.”
Tony looked like he was about to strangle the drugged young man. Part of me wanted to sit back and watch, but my training in conflict resolution kicked in on reflex.
“I wonder how the Sergeant would react to us attacking each other,” I commented. “I mean, I don’t know exactly, but he punched me for asking a question. For this kind of a mess, he might actually kill someone.” Every eye in the room was now on me. Slipping back into this role was actually quite comfortable. I walked up to Tony and the frat boy. “So, what’s your name?”
“Who cares? I’m just on a bad trip.”
“Well, why not try playing along? That might make it more fun than just waiting it out.”
“Well—”
“And if you don’t play along, this trip can get so much worse. Tony here seems very inclined to hurt you.”
“Whoa, ok, just hold up. I’m Skyler.”
“Skyler from?” I prompted.
“Florida State.”
“Well, nice to meet you Skyler from Florida State.” I extended a hand, and Skyler took it hesitantly. I shook it briskly then let go and moved to shake the hands of my other new compatriots. Even in this kind of bizarre situation, it really helps to be professional and polite. People will latch on to the familiar if you give them the chance.
“Time’s up!” The food vanished, and the Sergeant stood on the table in its place. With a snap of his fingers, we found ourselves in the middle of an obstacle course. “Now, you may think I’m going to make you run laps and climb walls. Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not your high school gym teacher. Each of these courses represents a test, one of which will push you to open up your territory. Assuming you live through the test. Gremlin Esposito! You’re up first. Feel free to pick your poison.”
Tony looked at the choices around us. I counted five distinct courses: Ropes over a mudhole, a rope net over a wall, a line of posts sticking about 2 feet off the ground, a net of barbed wire about a foot and a half off the ground, and a long line of high hurdles. Each was in a different direction facing out from us like a five-pointed star.
Tony stepped toward the mudhole course. A few steps away from the first rope, he vanished.
“Miss Foucher,” the sergeant pronounced the name with a french accent, “both of you can go together.” The sisters exchanged a glance that lasted a bit too long. “Now, ladies!”
They jumped and went for the hurdles. They both vanished.
“Mr. Smith.”
The short man didn’t hesitate. He went for the barbed wire crawl. Eddy ended up going for the wall and High Skyler went for the posts. That left the Sergeant and me alone in the middle of the course.
I stood at what I assumed was attention, waiting for him to call my name or for one of the others to come back. Five minutes of waiting later, I had to start asking questions. “Sir, may I ask when I’ll be allowed to begin my test?”
“Well, look who decided to open his big mouth. What makes you think you’re not being tested right now?”
Had I cared to think things through, I might have kept my mouth shut and considered his answer.
“So, I don’t get a fancy obstacle course vanishing act?”
The sergeant started toward me with long and forceful strides. I stayed where I was, but my jaw and gut locked up in expectation of another punch. He grabbed me by the shirt, and my eyes closed in anticipation. But the punch didn’t come. Instead, I felt my feet get swept from under me, and I hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of me. My eyes snapped open just in time to see a Colt 1911 pointed at my face from about a foot away. My heart jumped for a moment but quickly slowed back down. Something in my chest relaxed that had been pulled tight for so long I’d forgotten the feeling was there. As I relaxed, the Sergeant's face pulled into a sneer.
“That’s why. The other grems are going through tests that fire up the fight or flight response. But that won’t work for you, will it?” He took the gun out of my face and hauled me to my feet with one arm. “You’re just itching to lay down and die.”
My chest tightened up again, and I grabbed at him. I had no idea what I planned to do. I wasn’t really thinking in the moment, I just reacted. The next thing I knew, the sergeant had me face down on the ground and my right arm in a wrist lock. The impact of my face on the ground shook me for a moment, but then my anger surged back even hotter. I thrashed around and tried to grab onto him. I didn’t have the range of motion to grab him with my free arm.
“Like a child throwing a tantrum. Is that how you felt in the bank? Think back.” The moment he said it, my world began to shudder again. Something was happening, inside me and outside of me, and they were connected in a way I didn’t understand. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to be free.
“GET OFF!” I screamed, and I felt a detonation start inside me, that tightness snapping, and then my world exploded into lights and sounds and feelings I couldn’t begin to process. Then it passed, and I felt warm wetness running down my face. I also felt the absence of any weight on my back or the painful tension of an arm lock.
“Well, maybe you’re not a lost cause after all.” I looked to my left and saw the sergeant dusting himself off almost ten yards away. His uniform was brown with dust and mud, his hat askew on his head.
“I don�
��t—what was—?” I was trembling from head to toe.
“A muscle spasm, of sorts. I made you flex it by applying pressure.” The sergeant didn’t sound like a sergeant anymore. He sounded more like a college professor. “Now stand at attention, grem!” The stereotypical speech pattern was back in place now, and my body moved to stand straight with my hands behind my back. And again, I was locked in place, unable to move a muscle. “Now, do it again.”
I didn’t want to do it again. That outburst left me feeling wrung out and kind of crumpled up inside. Like a wet towel after someone gave it a good squeeze. All I wanted to do was pass out and enjoy not thinking or feeling anything for a while. After a few minutes of nothing, the sergeant released me, and I slumped down to the ground. Everything after that was a vague haze until I woke up the next morning in a small and uncomfortable bed.
“Good Morning, my little gremlins!” The booming voice of the sergeant brought me from hazy to fully awake. I saw my fellow inductees in beds just like mine inside an old military-style bunker.
“Oh, man. Anyone else feel hungover?” Skyler said, drawing the room’s attention to himself.
“I think that’s just you, buddy.” Eddy said, looking far healthier than he had yesterday.
“I actually feel pretty good.” I said, and I meant it. Not just physically either. My mind felt clear and I didn’t feel quite so empty inside. “And, no offense intended, some of you look a lot better than yesterday.”
“And you seem like less of a threatening jerk. No offense,” Skyler snapped, rubbing his forehead.
“Did anyone else do something...weird, yesterday?” Julia asked.
“Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure I set a bear on fire with my mind.” Jackson said, looking a little manic.
“I flew.” Eddie said, a little bit in awe. “Not quite like Superman, but pretty close.” I wanted to brag about getting a decent shot in on the sergeant, but who knew when he’d walk in.
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