Wizardmatch

by Lauren Magaziner

  “I can make fire,” Humphrey said.

  “These are magic fires!” Lennie said in awe.

  Humphrey held out a chair for her, and she plopped down just as the teakettle began to screech. She observed her great-uncle carefully as he poured out two cups of tea. In the light of his cave, she could see him better. He had flashing hazel eyes, a frowny mouth, and a stubbly chin. Atop his head, Humphrey had grayish-brown hair that wasn’t bald quite yet, but thinning a bit. And while her poppop had a bit of a belly on him, Great-Uncle Humphrey was tall and muscular; he looked strong.

  But it was the difference in their attitudes that was most jarring to her. Poppop always had to make every little thing into a grand dramatic spectacle, from his entrances to his colorful robes. But her great-uncle was dressed in a worn, tattered coat. His pants had holes in the kneecaps from where they’d worn away. He didn’t live in a fancy-pants castle; he was living in a cramped cave. He seemed to live a simpler life . . . and a tougher one.

  Humphrey placed a teacup in front of her.

  “I have so many questions,” Lennie said.

  “I figured you would,” Humphrey replied. “Drink up, drink up!”

  She eyed the tea warily. Tea always tasted like old socks to her.

  “If you’re really my poppop’s brother, then why is your last name Cobblespork, and not Pomporromp?”

  “Those aren’t our surnames—those are the estates and lands we own. De just means of. Mortimer owns the Pomporromp estate. Therefore, he is Mortimer of Pomporromp—or Mortimer de Pomporromp. I currently own a cottage called Cobblespork—therefore, I am Humphrey de Cobblespork.”

  “But if you own a house named Cobblespork, then why aren’t you there? What are you doing here, in this rock, in the middle of the borderlands?” she demanded. “And how is it that I just randomly ran into you here?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t random,” he said, sipping the tea. “I sought you out.”

  “You sought me?”

  “I thought I ought to.”

  “You thought you ought to sought me?”

  Great-Uncle Humphrey smiled. “I was observing as you wandered the borderlands. You, my dear, are not very bright, but I’ll give you points for audacity.”

  “Hey! I am too bright!”

  “Let’s see. You ran away with no destination in mind, right through a patch of land so loaded with traps that it’s practically a land mine. You didn’t carry a map. You had no buddy or backup to help you in case you ran into trouble. And you walked into a dark cave with a perfect stranger who claimed he was family. So . . . I’m going to have to go with not very bright.”

  She folded her arms. “You don’t even know me! And why are you here in the first place?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he retorted. “Why are you here?”

  “You’re avoiding the question,” Lennie pointed out.

  Great-Uncle Humphrey put the teacup to his lips and sipped slowly, keeping his eyes on her.

  They sat in silence under the light of the floating fires, which kept dazzling and blazing, as strong as ever. Lennie stared at them. What was keeping these fires alive for so long? There were no signs of flickering out, and Uncle Humphrey didn’t seem to be sweaty or breathless or out of energy, like Lennie always was when she needed to recharge.

  She stared at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Why haven’t any of these fireballs blown out?” she demanded. “My mom is twice as powerful as me, but her power only lasts for thirty seconds. There’s no way you can use your power for this long without resting if you’re not a Prime Wizard!”

  “You’re very observant, aren’t you?” And he didn’t even wait for her answer before he continued. “Your power lasts for fifteen seconds, hmm? You should probably keep that to yourself. Just in case.”

  “Why?”

  “You just let me know your greatest weakness, Lennie.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth. Way to go, dummy! From now on, she had to be more careful.

  Uncle Humphrey burst into rowdy laughter. “Don’t worry—I was only teasing. Now tell me: Are you here because you’ve been eliminated from Wizardmatch?”

  Lennie’s mood instantly soured. She spun the silver spoon around in her tea, trying to keep herself from crying or getting angry. She was already starting to feel jealousy roar inside her chest every time she thought about the stupid competition.

  “Are you not doing well in the competition?”

  “I wasn’t even allowed to compete!” Lennie said, throwing her hands in the air. “Poppop has this rule that siblings aren’t allowed to compete against one another. And he wanted my mom to put my brother into the competition instead of me.”

  Humphrey frowned and sipped his tea again. “I know how you feel.”

  “How do you know how I feel?” she said. “You got to compete! Wizardmatch is so—”

  “Unfair,” her great-uncle finished. “Or perhaps you were going for unjust? Undue, undeserved, unwarranted, unreasonable, unjustifiable, unnecessary, unmerited, un—”

  “I was going to say dumb.”

  Humphrey stared out at a spot beyond her head, a scowl forming on his weathered face. “Indeed,” he nodded. “It is dumb, as you say.”

  His nostrils flared again as he stared off into the corner of the cave. He looked frustrated and exhausted: the sort of look you would have if you stepped in a wad of chewed-up gum every single day of your life. Lennie wondered if she looked like that, too.

  “So tell me more,” Uncle Humphrey said. “I’m here for you.”

  She told her great-uncle all about Wizardmatch—about Poppop, her mom, her brother, everything. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to talk to someone. And he was an attentive listener—very quiet, but constantly nodding.

  As she neared the end, Uncle Humphrey stood up and poured water into two glasses and began to rustle around in the pantry. “Breakfast time!”

  “Breakfast? But it’s midnight!”

  “Not anymore!” Uncle Humphrey said. “It’s morning now.”

  Morning! Lennie wondered, with a nervous shiver, if anyone had realized she ran away.

  “I hope you like potato chips.”

  “Potato chips? For breakfast?” Lennie said. Her stomach gave a loud rumble.

  “It’s all I eat. Good for the mind, body, and soul. Also the wallet.” He reached into a tiny cupboard and grabbed a few jumbo bags of chips. Then he handed them over to Lennie who yawned again, but carried them dutifully as Humphrey gripped the teacups.

  She followed her great-uncle, her eyes watery from sleepiness.

  Lennie wasn’t even fazed when she crossed into the part of the cave that was dark. She simply listened for the crunch of Humphrey’s footsteps, so she could stay in his wake. And hopefully stay awake while she was at it. Once out of the rock, she looked around. It was still dark outside.

  “It’s not morning! It’s still nighttime!” Lennie groaned.

  “Follow me,” Uncle Humphrey said, ignoring her complaint. He broke into a jog. And although he was holding two teacups, not a single drop spilled. Lennie scurried to keep up. They marched through the clearing, into a very wooded area with thick trees in a cluster, their trunks so close that their branches tangled up in one another.

  Uncle Humphrey marched over a few roots, and disappeared on the other side of a thick tree that looked an awful lot like one of the redwood trees in her backyard.

  “Ta-da!” Uncle Humphrey said.

  Lennie had to squint to see it: There were footholds protruding from the tree, circling around the trunk in a spiral. A staircase!

  “Where does it lead?” Lennie asked, looking into the canopy of leaves above.

  Uncle Humphrey smiled slyly. “Up.”

  And so she followed Great-Uncle Humphrey up the never-end
ing staircase, the wood groaning with every step.

  At the top, there was a small wooden platform, just big enough for the two of them to sit on. They put the tea and chips between them; then they dangled their feet over the edge, staring over the treetops. From this height, she could look down at the borderlands, the thick trees covering the booby-trapped area like a blanket.

  But she did have the perfect view of Poppop’s neighborhood, and though the estates were spread out as far as the eye could see, each castle was more beautiful than the next. There was one floating in the air, and another with tall spires, and another with a single bell tower, and the Oglethorpes’ looked like it was made of starlight. In the quiet, shadowy morning, it twinkled and glowed.

  “Eat,” Humphrey said, pointing to the bags of chips.

  She grabbed a fistful and began to munch. Humphrey, meanwhile, sipped his tea. Their legs dangled over the jagged edge of the platform. At first, it was so dark that Lennie could still see the stars, but eventually those faded out into a pale sunlight.

  As she looked into the distance, she couldn’t help but think of her family. She wished that her dad were here. Did her mom even notice she was gone? Did Michael? Her poppop? Would any of them even care?

  “What aw you finking about?” Humphrey said through a full mouth.

  She sighed. “I’m thinking about Wizardmatch. Again.”

  “You’ll never stop thinking about it. It’s all I think about. Well, that and potato chips.” Humphrey licked the salt off his palm. “What?” he said at the sight of Lennie’s scandalized glare.

  “Nothing,” Lennie said, turning to gaze out again. Some of the castles began to stir. A windmill-shaped one began to spin; some of the chimneys on other mansions began to pump out smoke. “It’s just,” she hesitated, mulling over her words so that she said them just right, “you said you’re the only person who knows how I feel. And I could use some advice.”

  “Hmm . . . Never sneeze on a circus clown. Always carry a snorkel. Don’t fill your brother’s shoes with oatmeal—”

  “Not that sort of advice!” Lennie cried. “I want advice about Wizardmatch! What I should do. I want to know—what happened between you and Poppop?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Humphrey said brusquely. “I’ve filed that part of my life away. I’m over it.”

  “But clearly you aren’t,” Lennie said. “So just tell me what happened.”

  Her great-uncle bristled. Then he mumbled something incomprehensible.

  “What?” Lennie said.

  “I said ONCE UPON A TIME,” he bellowed, and the sound of his voice echoed all across the tops of the borderland trees.

  “Why are you starting with once upon a time?” Lennie said. “This isn’t a fairy tale.”

  “Any story worth telling starts with once upon a time! Once upon a time,” he began again, ignoring Lennie as she rolled her eyes, “my poppop, your great-great-poppop . . . hmmm . . . what do you call a great-great-poppop? A poppoppoppop? Poppoppoppop Pomporromp?”

  “Stop stalling!”

  “Once upon a time, my grandpappy decided he was going to host Wizardmatch. He was very ill and didn’t have much time left, and all of us knew it. Whereas your grandfather can dillydally and shilly-shally all the livelong day because he doesn’t need to pick a successor.” He stroked his stubbly chin and got potato chip grease all over his face. “Winifred was fourteen, Mortimer was twelve, I was eleven, Bernadette and Ophelia were both eight. And we all had the same power—the ability to control fire for small amounts of time. Bernadette was eliminated first. That, of course, caused a big rift between the twins. They were very competitive with each other their whole lives—and continued all the way up until their simultaneous deaths in a duel.”

  “A duel? Is that . . . is that a thing that happens in Netherly?”

  Great-Uncle Humphrey simply glared at her.

  “Sorry,” Lennie said. “Go on.”

  “As I was saying: After Bernadette was cut in the first round, Ophelia was eliminated next. It was hard for the twins to compete with Winifred, Mortimer, and me. We had many years of practice and training on them. Then Winifred was eliminated, which she was huffy about because she was the oldest of us all.”

  Well, Lennie sure understood that. And Lennie couldn’t help but notice that all the girls got eliminated first in her poppop’s Wizardmatch competition. She didn’t know Winifred, but Lennie was sure—deep in her bones, positively positive—that this didn’t escape her great-aunt’s attention, either.

  “In the final test, it was me versus Mortimer. We were so close in age—just nineteen months apart. We were best friends. Better than best! Better than better than best!” Uncle Humphrey snorted. “But your poppop was always the favorite, and Grandpappy chose him to be the next Prime Wizard. And so I was stuck with my limited firepower, while my brother had a whole world of magic available at his fingertips,” he finished. “WOE! WOE IS ME! WOE IS WE! WOE IS US!”

  “Woe is us,” Lennie agreed. There were so many things unfair about Wizardmatch, from its sexism to its ageism to its straight-up favoritism. The competition was like a tornado that barreled through their family, leaving one person standing . . . and everyone else in shambles.

  “The worst part was after the competition,” Uncle Humphrey said in a low voice. “Mortimer gloated endlessly about winning Wizardmatch. Then, the moment Grandpappy passed, Mortimer kicked all four of us out of the house. Said the estate was his now, and we did not belong.”

  “That’s horrible!” Lennie said.

  Uncle Humphrey sighed sadly. “I’ll never forget that rainy morning when he sent me and my sisters away. Alas— daybreak!” He pointed across the neighborhood. “Look at that sun . . . it’s perfection! Like a glowing potato chip.”

  Lennie looked toward the horizon, where the sun was slowly rising. The morning light kissed the tops of all the estates and castles. It was beautiful, but also lonely. “It’s very nice.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, I thought it would be the perfect send-off.”

  “Send-off?”

  “Yes! I’m sending you back to the castle.”

  Lennie bristled. “What?! You can’t send me back there! I just escaped!”

  “Well, you can’t stay here with me.”

  “I won’t go back there! No! No, no, no!”

  “No?” Uncle Humphrey scratched his head and flakes of dandruff sprinkled onto his shoulders like fairy dust. “You can’t say no! I—I refuse your refusal!”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I refuse your refusal of my refusal! I have to stay,” Lennie said, stamping her foot onto the platform. “No one understands me—Mom, Michael, Poppop, my cousins, no one! I don’t ever want to look at any of their faces AGAIN!”

  “I could blindfold you, if that would help.”

  “That would not help!” she shrilled, her voice two octaves higher than normal. She’d run away again, if she had to—she was not going back.

  Lennie got to her feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the cave. I’m not leaving,” she said. She stormed across the wooden platform—and tripped over her own shoelace.

  She tried to catch herself—but she couldn’t stop. She lurched forward and tumbled right off the edge.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screamed, closing her eyes.

  The wind rushed around her, her stomach dropped—she was falling!

  Plummeting!

  Plunging!

  Still plummeting! Still plunging!

  Somehow, Lennie thought falling from a very tall height would be faster than this. She peeked an eye open—and gasped.

  She was hovering in the air, halfway between the platform and the hard earth. But she wasn’t falling anymore. Instead . . . she was rising. A burst of wind beneath her was pushing her back up to
the platform—back to Uncle Humphrey.

  Humphrey held out his hand to her. “GRAB ON, LENNIE!”

  The expression on his face was of intense concentration—and maybe a bit of pain.

  She took his hand, and he pulled her back onto the platform. Once she was safe, she lay down flat, a hand over her hammering heart. Uncle Humphrey sat down against the trunk of the tree and wiped his brow with his tattered coat.

  “I told you to be careful,” he growled.

  Lennie’s mouth hung wide open. It was him—he had conjured the air. But that was impossible! Humphrey’s power was fire. No one except the Prime Wizard had more than one power.

  “H-how!” she said, confused. “How did you do that?”

  Humphrey’s lips pursed together.

  “You told me last night that your power was fire! You lied to me!”

  “I wasn’t lying. I can control fire. Oh, don’t look so cross!” he said. “Of course I wasn’t going to lead by telling you all the things I can do. I barely know you!”

  “All the things you can do?” she said, and Humphrey’s face scrunched up, clearly mad at himself for saying too much. “There’s more,” Lennie realized, her heart suddenly racing. “More than just fire and wind. What else can you control?”

  “. . . Water,” Humphrey admitted.

  “Water!”

  “Earth.”

  “Earth, too!” Lennie repeated incredulously.

  “How else do you think you got out of that moat last night?”

  “But how?” Lennie demanded. She clutched both sides of the platform to steady herself, and she gazed at her great-uncle in shock. In awe. In wonder . . . as he was chewing a hangnail with his teeth. “How is this even possible?”