by Raymond Cain
Flynn peered over the watery rails at the ledge and regarded The Sorcery Academy. It was a white stone building and its top was divided into three smaller towers. The towers were at different heights and each one was flat on top and surrounded by battlements. They gave the wizards a high perch from which to look out over the city or rain spells down below.
In recent years, stone had sheared off from the cliffs near the academy and fell into the streets below. In response, Seahaven’s engineers created enormous liquid arches to shore up the cliffs. One of those watery arches passed over the highest tower of the Sorcery Academy, and it gave Flynn an idea. If he could get onto the arch, he might be able to jump down onto the tower. Unfortunately, the feat would likely result in a broken ankle. If only he had a rope.
Flynn looked around for ideas. All he saw were white streets, stone buildings, and a garbage golem. The construct rubbed the cobblestones with elongated arms and wide, flat hands. When it noticed Flynn, it shaped each hand into an offensive gesture.
“You again,” Flynn said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m getting tired of this.” He was about to pummel the golem until a better idea occurred to him. He smiled broadly, as though they were the best of friends. “Come here, good buddy.”
The golem shook its watery head, no. It backed away, showing Flynn that it would run away from him if necessary. It transferred some of the water from its body to its hands, doubling the size of its rude hand gestures.
Flynn’s fake smile wavered. He wanted to throttle the little pest but he tried his best not to show it. When he walked toward it, the golem stepped back, keeping its distance.
“It’s okay. Just come on over,” he said, more insistently.
The construct shook its head and pumped its hands up and down in a taunting manner, making its gestures as offensive as possible. It paused for a moment to absorb a piece of litter, then resumed its taunt.
The litter gave Flynn an idea. He tore off a piece of his shirt sleeve and threw it on the ground in front of him. The golem hesitated but it could not resist its enchantment. It walked over to Flynn and picked up his litter.
“Thanks,” he said, and he grabbed the golem by the throat. His fingers sunk into its neck but they did not go through. Its neck was slippery but solid enough to hold onto.
Five liquid railings ringed Uppercity’s cliffs, preventing anyone from falling to the streets below. Flynn dragged the construct to the cliff edge and climbed over the railings. The top rung had some give, and it bowed as he dragged himself over it. The golem passed through the rails with little resistance.
Ten feet below the ledge was one of the giant liquid arches that shored up the cliffs. It was narrow and if he slipped off or fell through, his body would make a terrible mess on the red cobblestones below. The thought of jumping onto it made his stomach feel like there was a boulder in it.
Flynn closed his eyes and gulped, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. As he contemplated jumping down, his legs shook, his vision blurred, and goosebumps stood up on his forearms. In the distance, he saw the Citadel, the military academy his parents had attended, and it bolstered his nerve. Even so, he was about turn back until he saw the roof of the Drunken Mermaid. The sight of that grungy building made him realize his priorities.
He needed to get down to Lowercity quickly.
With one hand still wrapped around the golem’s neck, Flynn leapt from the ledge. The golem flailed as they fell and when they landed on the arch, Flynn’s feet sunk in a few inches and his balance wavered. The arch’s texture was both hard and soft, like standing on firm mud. He hiked along the watery construction with the angry golem in tow, and tried not to notice the deadly drop on each side. It was impossible to ignore the dizzying height because walking on the transparent arch meant staring into the streets below.
A few more steps brought Flynn above the Sorcery Academy but the golem flailed, breaking free of his grip and making him lose his balance. He tumbled along the arch and the golem toppled after him. The world spun and his heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. His survival instincts took over and he dug his hands and feet into the arch, bringing himself to a stop.
Flynn regained his footing for only an eyeblink before the golem crashed into him, sending him tumbling again. He dug his hands and feet in to stop himself a second time, then he marched back to the golem. He wrapped both hands around its throat and squeezed it so hard, he nearly separated its head from its body.
Its neck was skinnier than its wrist before Flynn stopped squeezing. “I would love to keep throttling you right now, but I need you for something first.”
With the flailing golem in tow, he returned to the section that arched over the Sorcery Academy. One of the academy’s three towers was a short distance below, but it looked a lot farther down from the arch than it did from the street.
After a moment of hesitation, he gathered his nerve and jumped. He pulled the golem beneath him in mid-air, and the construct opened its mouth in a silent scream. The golem hit the flagstones first, and Flynn landed with one foot on the golem’s waist and the other on stone. He fell backward, squishing the unfortunate construct’s head flat with his backside. After squashing the golem, he rolled backward, striking his head on the flagstones.
The landing stunned him but he shook away the dizziness and stood up. His backside flattened the golem’s head so completely that he had to peel its face from his rear. The golem used its watery hands to squish its flattened head back into shape and it staggered, as though it had forgotten how to walk.
A trap door opened and a man in black robes climbed onto the tower. The wizard was a middle-aged man with long brown hair streaked with gray. He had sharp facial features and icy blue eyes. The cold from those eyes were palpable as the man stared hard at Flynn. He removed a crystal wand from his black robes, and specks of light traveled from its base to its tip and back again.
The wizard stared at Flynn, then at the golem, then back at Flynn with a slow, disbelieving shake of the head. He wore precisely the expression one would expect to have after finding an eighteen-year-old boy and a garbage golem on top of the Sorcery Academy.
“What are you doing here?” the wizard asked in a voice as hard and cold as his eyes.
Flynn rubbed a bump on his head that was growing bigger by the moment. “Just practicing some jumps, sir.”
The wizard muttered a few arcane words and a cloud of ice crystals encircled the tip of his wand. A thin blue ray shot outward toward Flynn's chest but the golem, which was shaking its fist at him, inadvertently intercepted the spell. The ray hit the golem's fist and its arm froze solid. The unfortunate construct looked at its icy limb and opened its mouth as if to scream. Flynn sighed in relief, not only because the golem might have saved him from a grave injury, but also because it did not have vocal cords.
“Sorry, little fella,” Flynn said as he grabbed the golem by the throat once more. “But your day is about to get even worse.”
Flynn leapt over the edge of the tower with the golem. They slid along its sloping side toward one of the lower towers. Ice spells rained down at them from above, smashing into the stone and scattering freezing shards. They slid off-course but Flynn used the golem’s frozen arm as a rudder to steer them back toward the lower tower.
They ended up sliding onto a lower tower and crashing into the battlements. The golem’s body protected Flynn but sliding into the battlements left him bruised and in pain. He rubbed his sore tailbone but he fared better than the golem, which was squished flat once again. Flynn brushed off his tunic and nodded as the golem regained its shape. “I'm getting better at this.”
Peering over the battlements, Flynn watched the students leave The Lift and head toward the Sorcery Academy. He only had a few minutes to get to the bottom.
The tower he was on had a wooden trap door and Flynn pulled it open, revealing a marble staircase that spiraled down within the outer wall. An icy ray struck the flagstones next t
o him, scattering frozen shards on his trousers. He grabbed the garbage golem by the neck and hopped down onto the stairs. The trap door slammed shut behind him and the thud of another ice spell struck the wood. Frost seeped between the boards and the chill made hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
“Sorry, my friend,” Flynn said as he grabbed the golem by its neck and laid it on the steps. “But your bad day isn’t over yet.”
Flynn sat on the golem’s face and planted his feet on its hips. He pushed off from the step behind him, and the unusual pair slid down the stairs. He wrapped his hands around the frozen limb and used it to steer. His hands went numb as they picked up speed, knocking over students and wizards on the stairs.
The two of them slid by dozens of treasures mounted along the walls. There were centuries-old statues, tapestries, paintings, and exotic weapons on display. Flynn paid them no mind until they slid by a fist-sized chunk of red crystal safeguarded behind rune-covered glass. The crystal flickered with magical light as he went by.
Magical red crystal? Flynn had never heard of such a thing. It was so distracting that he nearly collided with an older woman in purple robes. Her gray hair was tied back in a complex braid and she had a stooped posture, but her steely gray eyes had lost none of their youthful luster. He used the golem’s frozen arm to steer around her and her icy stare chilled him more than the spellcasting wizard that attacked him.
After a rough ride down the academy stairs, Flynn and the golem finally reached the bottom. The ordeal flattened the golem, and it was slow to squish itself back into shape. Flynn felt like a club-wielding ogre spent the day hammering on his tailbone and he didn’t think he would sit right for a week.
Flynn rubbed his backside vigorously until he realized he was in the middle of a grand hall and a dozen wizards were staring at him. He waved awkwardly at the wizards and gulped nervously, trying to think of an explanation for sliding down the stairs on a garbage golem.
“I’m a student here, just testing a new mode of travel for descending stairs.” He rubbed his backside again. “It’s still got a few quirks to be worked out.”
The wizards wore robes that ranged in color from blue, to purple, to black. They stared at him with bewildered expressions. Flynn nodded to them awkwardly and headed for a pair of double-doors leading out of the academy.
Flynn pushed open the double-doors and entered a moat-encircled courtyard. He ran out of the academy and crossed a water bridge that arched over the moat. The water was filled with so many golems that they roiled with activity. Anyone that fell in would be torn to shreds.
As soon as Flynn crossed the bridge, he was tackled from behind. At first he assumed it was a member of the academy but it was the garbage golem that he mangled on the trip down. The construct was misshapen after getting pummeled by every step in the academy but it was still able to throw punches. Flynn was almost knocked senseless when its icy fist struck him in the face.
Flynn pushed the golem off him and backed away toward the moat. Suddenly inspired, he ripped off another piece of his shirt and dangled it over the edge. Unable to resist its enchantment, the golem reached for the piece of garbage but Flynn dropped it in the moat. The golem followed it down, disappearing beneath the surface. The moat became a frenzy of activity as the golem was mutilated beyond recognition.
“There,” Flynn muttered. “Now your bad day is over.”
Chapter Eleven
The other potential students were huddled in front of the moat and Flynn joined them. Titus hadn’t noticed him and Flynn approached discretely, grinning broadly at the idea of how the bully might react.
“Hello,Titus,” Flynn said, as though surprised to find himself standing next to the brawny boy. “Glad you could make it.”
Titus’ face was a slack-jawed, wide-eyed look of bewilderment. Flynn basked in Titus’ stupefied expression until it turned into a jaw-clenching look of anger. Titus clenched his fists and looked ready to throttle Flynn until a pair of black-robed wizards approached the group.
The wizards gestured for everyone to cross the water bridge that spanned the moat. Once everyone was across, one of the wizards pulled a lever, retracting the water bridge. A few students arrived late and begged to have the bridge extended, but their pleas were ignored. The latecomers would not be attending college that year, and Flynn felt relieved that he was not among them.
Titus Rocknugget elbowed Flynn in the shoulder. “A patrol spotted a ship outside the Safe Zone yesterday, near the Giant’s Fingers. I did my civic duty and informed the harbormaster it was you.”
Flynn shrugged. He did not want to give Titus the satisfaction of appearing annoyed.
“He was considering letting you off with a warning,” Titus continued, “but I talked him out of it. I let him know you knocked my ship into the rocks with your crazy driving earlier, so a hefty fine will be sent to your house. The fine would be nothing to me, of course, but it’ll probably take you a few months of digging in your pathetic little mine to pay it off.”
Flynn gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything. Titus was right; the fine would be difficult to pay. Since their parents disappeared, Flynn and Tasker had a hard time making ends meet.
The main doors to the Sorcery Academy opened and a middle-aged man in a purple cloak approached the students. His hood was pulled back, revealing salt-and-pepper hair brushed back from his face and an impeccably trimmed goatee. The man had a friendly smile but Flynn had the feeling that it was insincere.
“Hello, students. I am the Dean of this school and also one of its professors. I teach the higher-level Evocation classes. My name is Dean Martigan, and I would like to welcome you to the Sorcery Academy.” The man eyed up the students and Flynn felt uneasy when the man’s gaze fell on him.
“As you all know,” the dean continued, “today is Selection Day, the day you’ll be selected for one of the three colleges in Seahaven—the Sorcery Academy, the Engineering Academy, or the Citadel. You’re free to tell us which school you would like to attend and if you pass certain tests, you will be placed where you wish to go. Each year, the Sorcery Academy is the most popular school, but we cannot take everybody. Most applicants do not meet our prerequisites.”
The dean paused and eyed up the crowd once more. “But,” he continued, “if you wish to become a master of the elements of air...”
The dean removed a crystal wand from his robes and pointed it upward. A strong wind began to circle above him.
“...and water...”
Water poured out of his wand and mixed with the wind, creating a stormy mist.
“...and ice...” the dean added, raising his voice as the gale grew louder.
Ice flew from his wand and joined the mist, resulting in a frozen storm. The wind chilled the students and whipped their hair into a frenzy. The shivering teenagers tried to recover what was left of their hairstyles, but the storm did nothing to remove their smiles and wide-eyed looks of amazement.
“...and if you are willing to use these talents to protect this city from monsters of the sea and beasts from the tunnels, then this college is the one for you.”
It was an impressive demonstration of power, but Flynn had little desire to become a wizard. He did not believe he was smart enough, nor did he wish to spend his free time reading and studying. Years earlier, Tasker chose against joining the Sorcery Academy as well, despite meeting the prerequisites. He turned it down in favor of the Engineering Academy. He preferred to create, rather than destroy, and he was more comfortable with gadgets than he was with people.
“Please follow me,” Dean Martigan said, leading the students into the tower. They entered the grand hall, the last room Flynn saw at the end of his journey down the tower stairs. The walls were constructed from a rare variety of white marble containing blue veins and swirls. The majestic chamber had plush carpeting, ancient tapestries, and vibrant paintings. White stone statues of long-dead wizards nearly reached the full height of its arched ceiling. Flynn failed to notic
e how luxurious the room was on the way down, but after taking a moment to appreciate it, he was in awe.
Two stern-faced wizards in black robes entered the hall from the stairs. Flynn recognized one of them as the same brown-haired wizard from the upper tower that launched ice spells at him. The wizards scanned the crowd and Flynn looked down and tried not to get noticed. He wasn't sure what they would do if they found him, but he didn’t want to find out. Titus looked down at him, his eyes brimming with suspicion.
“Friends of yours?” Titus asked.
“Yes, actually. Although, we only just met so our relationship is still blossoming,” Flynn replied in a pleasant, albeit sarcastic, tone. “But we bonded during our brief time together and I think we have something special.”
“I suppose you think you're funny.”
Flynn was preparing another witty reply but his thoughts were interrupted by Dean Martigan.
“As most of you know,” the dean spoke, his voice stern, “a wizard wields a wand made from aquazite. To become powerful in the arts of magic, one must have a strong connection with the substance. Only those who prove they have a powerful bond are accepted into the academy. To that end, we have devised a way to test this connection.”
A door opened at the rear of the hall and two wizards in black robes rolled out a strange contraption. It was a stone pedestal with a bowl-shaped depression on top. It rolled in on a cushion of water that enabled the wizards to push it. The bowl was full of water and there were aquazite spheres on both sides. A spiral glass tube rose out of the bowl with numbers marked on it in gold. The numbers ranged from one to one hundred.
A familiar woman in purple robes accompanied the wizards. It was the same older woman Flynn passed by on the stairs near the red crystal.
“Hello, students. My name is Ms. Clutchfeather. I’m the Historian here at the academy.”
She offered the group a warm smile and Flynn’s stomach clenched when she looked at him. To his surprise, her facial expression did not change at all when her gaze passed over him. He wondered if she was senile, or if she had poor eyesight.