Sam’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at the redheaded boy, wishing Lilah had taught him a useful spell he could have used at this moment.
Curtis glanced over his shoulder to see what Sam was staring at. “Uh oh,” he said when he saw Sarah sitting with the redhead. “That’s Jasper Mellon. He’s not the brightest, but he’s always going on about how good he is with the ladies. From the stories he tells, you’d think that all the girls in his village practically swoon over him.”
“Why’s that redheaded oaf sitting with her?”
Curtis said, “Looks like your girlfriend’s gaining popularity.” He saw the intense look on Sam’s face. “Just chill out – okay? Don’t do anything stupid. He’s twice your size and would probably snap you in half.”
Sam hadn’t been training with Lilah lately, but he had been reading the spellbook she had given him. He had memorized at least two dozen common names and their corresponding conjure word. He hadn’t actually tried casting any of them, but was so angry at that moment that he didn’t care.
“Sam?”
Sam’s mind found that familiar place where it had learned to go when he wanted to use magic. He had never tried casting a spell without speaking the words out loud, but his own rage got the better of him. In his mind, he thought: tikelen ogni.
Suddenly, across the room, Jasper Mellon was consumed in dancing green flames. Sarah gasped, as a look of surprise shot across Jasper’s face. In the next moment, the redheaded boy was laughing uncontrollably, scratching at the flames. He fell off the bench, writhing on the stone floor, squirming like a worm, all the while with his mouth hanging open, screaming with laughter. Jasper’s gales of laughter filled the room. The other boys stopped eating, turning to see what was going on. Sam thought they appeared more awed than amused, and there was much deliberation on just exactly what was going on.
“Cursed?” one boy suggested.
“Jinxed,” said another.
“No, I think he’s been hexed.”
“Maybe someone spiked his drink.” This from Victor, who was gazing fearfully into his half-empty mug as though spiders were swimming around at the bottom of it.
At first, Sam couldn’t believe it. He glanced around the room, expecting to find Lilah hiding behind a corner, snickering. But of course she wasn’t. He had done it. On the first try, and without speaking the conjure words out loud. It was enough to momentarily make him forget about his anger; all he wanted to do was find Lilah and tell her what he had done. How he had not only cast a new spell on the first attempt, but done it without so much as moving his lips, which, he knew, was even difficult for her – and she was in the Mage School.
When Sam came back to reality, the spell was already wearing off. The green flames were dying away, and Jasper managed to get to his feet, chuckling sporadically as he rubbed his aching jaw.
Sarah glared at Sam as though she wanted to kill him. Her hand was wrapped around the handle of her sheathed sword.
“Holy cow,” Curtis whispered. “You Ticklefired him! I don’t believe it.”
After Jasper had recovered, Sarah stormed out of the mess hall.
“I don’t think that helped your cause,” Curtis said. “But it was really cool. Of course, if anyone finds out it was you who did it, you might as well pack your bags.”
Sam shook his head. “Can things get any worse?”
Wilkes Haversham was Dashelmore’s official Beast Handler & Animal Licensor. His job consisted of making sure the more exotic animals that were kept in the kingdom and nearby townships were treated properly and maintained in accordance with strict guidelines. He also gave out fines when these guidelines were not followed, and conducted special investigations when there were reports of wrongdoing or animal neglect. Several years ago, one of the more seedy alchemy shops had been closed down after it was discovered that the owner was illegally procuring unicorn horns from a poaching ring camped out on the outskirts of a village far to the south. It was common knowledge that unicorns were endangered animals and large preserves had been set up to protect them. The poachers would capture and kill them, and then auction the horns off to the highest bidder. Haversham had been one of the case’s lead investigators. Working off anonymous tips, they had caught and arrested the poachers, and subsequently banished the owner of the alchemy shop.
The unicorn investigation had been big news, and even Curtis remembered hearing his parents talk about it. He leaned toward Sam and said, “I expected him to be bigger. You know, considering his line of work.”
Sam could see what Curtis meant. Wilkes Haversham stood in front of the wyvern corral, a terribly skinny, middle-aged man whose appearance inspired little confidence that he was equipped to deal with dangerous beasts. In fact, Sam could easily imagine one of the wyverns busting lose and gobbling the beast handler up whole.
Haversham was currently explaining to them everything he knew about wyverns. “Because of their reptilian appearance, it is mistakenly believed that wyverns are relatives of dragons, but recent evidence suggests that this isn’t the case at all. If nothing else, they are distant relatives. Although they do share some common traits. Both are lizard-like, both have thin wings composed of an elastic membranous material, and both have bad tempers if you happen upon them when they’re in a foul mood. Unlike dragons, however,” Haversham continued, “wyverns have only two legs and walk upright. They have sharp teeth for tearing meat, but wyverns cannot breathe fire. And, obviously, they are much smaller than dragons.
“If you’ll notice here,” Haversham said, pointing at one of the wyvern’s necks, “wyverns have a feathery mane on the back of their necks. It remains a mystery as to what purpose this feathery mane serves.”
Sam noticed that the majority of the wyverns were rigged with leather harnesses, with angled rider’s seats mounted on their backs. Haversham went on to explain their webbed feet, which ended in sharp talons. Their posture was similar to that of a bird.
One of the wyverns snapped at Haversham’s fingers when he stuck his hand through the protective netting, but the beast handler was very quick (which, Sam guessed, helped make up for his lack of size), and pulled his hand away before the wyvern could sever his fingers. “Feisty things,” Haversham said. “But rather easily domesticated if they are raised in captivity from birth. The important thing to remember is that any beast, trained or not, is still dangerous. They must be treated with the utmost respect. Safety first!
“A peculiar fact about wyverns is that a mutual respect must exist between you and the animal. They have very keen olfactory sensory organs – noses to the layperson – and can detect slight changes in human pheromones. Do I have any volunteers?”
A few boys raised their hands, but Sam wasn’t one of them. Considering his absence of luck in the past weeks, he didn’t think trying to ride a giant lizard would be a good idea.
But then, from somewhere among the sea of boys, a girl’s voice said, “Pick Sam Finch! He’ll do it!”
Of course, it was Sarah’s voice; she was the only girl there. He looked around and saw her staring at him, smirking.
Curtis said, “Looks like she’s getting paybacks.”
“Very good,” Haversham said. “Please come forward, Sam Finch.”
“Good luck. And don’t die,” Curtis said as Sam stepped forward.
Sam’s legs felt like warm taffy. Haversham opened the corral’s gate and lifted the protective netting high enough for Sam to enter. “Now remember,” he said. “As long as you’re respectful, they won’t harm you.”
Sam entered the corral, Haversham following a step or two behind him.
“How about this one here? Just do what I do.”
Haversham ran his hand along the side of the wyvern’s neck, petting it. Sam copied the beast handler’s example, raising his hand, placing it gingerly on the lizard’s neck, and stroking it. The wyvern’s skin felt rough and bumpy under his touch. It tilted its head to face him, staring at him with bright yellow eyes.
&
nbsp; It nipped at Sam’s hand.
“Don’t worry,” Haversham said. “That’s entirely normal. Just being playful.”
If it bites my fingers off will that still be considered playful? Sam wondered.
“Scratch him on the neck, right on the mane. That’s the sweet spot.”
Sam followed Haversham’s directions, standing on his tiptoes to reach the wyvern’s neck, scratching its feathers as though he were petting a cat. The wyvern lowered its head until it was chest level with Sam. Sam was amazed to see that the wyvern seemed to be enjoying it.
“All right, Sam. Now carefully put your foot in the stirrup.”
Sam kept his hand on the lizard’s mane, put his foot in the stirrup, and then threw his leg around so that he was seated in the small saddle on the creature’s back. The wyvern stood up, and Sam was high enough that he was looking down at the rest of his class. He could see Sarah, still glowering at him, still looking unhappy with her arms folded across her chest. Probably mad I’m not dead yet, Sam thought.
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Haversham asked.
“Once or twice.”
“This is almost the same as riding a horse. Just tap your heels against its side to make it move forward.”
Sam tapped his heels against the wyvern’s sides. It moved forward slowly, stepping out of the corral.
“Good. Now, to make him fly, pat the back of his neck. When you’re up in the air, you can pat the left side of his neck if you want to go left and vice versa. Make sure to hold on tight.”
“Go Sam!” Curtis shouted.
Sam leaned forward so that his face was almost touching the wyvern’s neck and said, “I just want you to know that I respect you very much.”
And then he patted the back of the lizard’s neck. The wyvern burst forward, stretching out its wings, flapping them rapidly, and within seconds they had shot up into the air, rocketing up into the sky. Sam felt the wind swish through his hair. They hit the clouds, and when Sam glanced down the arena was far below him.
The only sounds were the rush of the wind and the sound of the wyvern flapping its wings. His fears dropped away as he streaked through the sky. He saw the castle looming ahead, patting the wyvern on the neck so that it veered sharply to the right. They zoomed past the castle’s tower, and a guard standing watch on one of the turrets waved to Sam.
After circling the castle a few times, they looped around. It wasn’t until they were speeding back toward the arena that Sam realized he didn’t have the slightest idea of how to land. Haversham hadn’t mentioned it, and it hadn’t crossed Sam’s mind to ask.
In a panic, Sam tried to go over the options. Clearly, patting the wyvern on the left or right side of the neck wouldn’t work; and patting it on the back of its neck was the cue to make it take…
So maybe if I tap it on the back of the neck again, it’ll know to land, Sam thought.
At this point, it seemed like the only option. He patted it on the neck gently and nothing happened. The wyvern kept flying, circling high above the arena. Sam could see the other students below, looking no bigger than ants from this far up. He tried again, patting it more forcefully this time.
The wyvern swooped around and went into a dive. Sam had to hold on tightly to keep from falling forward. As fast as it was going, Sam was certain they would plow straight into the ground, but at the last possible second, the wyvern pulled up, leveled off, and landed. It took a few steps and stopped several feet from the corral.
Some of the other boys were cheering and clapping; Curtis was the most vocal. “Amazing show!” he shouted. Haversham helped Sam down before giving the wyvern a pat on the behind, which prompted it to step back into its corral.
“It completely slipped my mind to tell you how to land,” Haversham whispered, a little red in the face. “Glad you figured it out on your own.”
“You and me both.”
Sam’s hair stood up in unruly tufts as he walked back to join the other students. As fun as riding the wyvern had been, he was glad to have both feet on the ground again. Curtis patted him on the back. Sarah wasn’t smiling.
“What was it like?” Curtis asked. “It looked really cool.”
“Fast and a little scary,” Sam said.
“She’s really got it in for you. Better not let your guard down.”
Sam nodded grimly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MALAVANT RESURRECTED
“You nervous?” Curtis asked.
It was one of the few occasions that Curtis had gotten up as early as Sam. Sam felt like he was on the verge of being sick. The day he had dreaded for so long had finally arrived. Today their tests started. Written exams in the morning, practical tests in the afternoon.
“Yeah,” Sam said, pulling on his boots.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad. My ma always said it’s the not knowing that’s the worst. The real thing is never as bad.”
“For our sakes, I hope she’s right,” Sam said.
“Good news is the holidays start tomorrow. Two weeks of nothing but rest and relaxation.”
Sam wasn’t sure he was looking forward to the holidays as much as his friend was. The two week break would give them some well deserved time off from training, but most of the boys would be going home for the holidays. Sam wasn’t one of them.
He had received a letter from his mother that morning…
My Dearest Sam,
Your father and I miss you very much. It seems like ages since you have been home. We had planned to make the trip to Dashelmore to bring you home for the holidays, but your father has recently taken ill. There is no need for alarm. He is expected to make a full recovery, but the doctor has advised against travel until he is well again. You know your father – he insists that he’s well enough to make the trip, but I won’t allow it. This illness struck him rather suddenly and I don’t think he is in any shape to go anywhere.
I hope you will understand. I had wanted to see you more than anything. I will make a point of writing you more often. I know that you are busy, but please take the time to write back. We would really love to hear from you. I hope you have a wonderful holiday and we hope to see you very soon.
Love,
Mom
P.S. – I have sent along five gold. Be sure to write your father a thank you note as we cannot really afford it, but he insisted.
“Five gold!” Curtis said. “Not a bad haul.”
“Looks like I won’t be going anywhere for the holidays,” Sam said. While he was disappointed in not being able to go home, he was more worried about his father. In all his years, Sam couldn’t remember his father catching anything worse than a head cold. The idea of the man being confined to his bed was difficult for Sam to imagine. He had always thought of his father as invincible.
“That’s fantastic!”
“How do you figure?”
“I’d already written my parents to let them know not to get me. I had to fib a little and say I was going to your house for the holidays. As soon as I heard my Aunt Brünhilda was coming, I decided I’d rather spend the holidays alone. I can’t stand her. Now we can hang out!”
“I guess it won’t be so bad.”
“It’ll be awesome! Plus now you’ve got some walking around money.”
Sam stowed the five gold pieces in his leather pouch, feeling a little guilty about having them. It wasn’t really worth imagining his parents going without just so he could have some “walking around” money as Curtis called it. At the same time, however, his mind had no problem thinking of all the ways he could spend it.
“We better get going,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with.”
It was one of those rare occasions when it wasn’t snowing. The sun was shining and the snow was melting; water dripped from the eaves, splattering drop by drop onto the cobblestones. The day was almost nice enough to make Sam forget how nervous he was.
They skipped breakfast. Neither of them had an appetite, and the rumor wa
s that there was always a celebratory dinner after first semester tests and to kick off the holidays.
When they walked into the arena, it became apparent that many of the other boys had also skipped breakfast. Sam and Curtis joined the others in line. Alsted and Felgorn were seated in chairs behind two long wooden tables that had been positioned at the center of the arena. Sarah was already in line, but as usual, she refused to acknowledge his existence.
“She sure knows how to hold a grudge,” Curtis said after he noticed Sam looking in her direction. “I thought she’d be over it by now.”
Minute by minute, more boys trickled in, taking their place in line, until they were all there. Alsted appeared more stoic than usual as he handed out rolled test parchments sealed shut by wax stamped with the official Dashelmore seal.
Once each of them was holding a test parchment (Sam noticed that his was slippery because his hands were sweaty), Alsted said, “Each of you take a seat at one of the tables.”
There was some noisy shuffling as they each took a seat at one of the long tables. Sam sat next to Curtis.
“I think someone erased my memory,” Curtis said. “I can’t seem to remember anything.”
Sam nodded, certain that his memory had likewise been stripped clean. He rested his hands flat on the table, the rolled parchment lying between them.
As Alsted paced between the tables, Felgorn came behind him, passing out fountain pens and placing bottles of ink on the table every few feet.
“On my say,” Alsted said, “ya’ll break the seal and begin testing. Ya’ll have two hours.”
“Good luck,” Curtis whispered.
“You, too,” Sam said.
Alsted said, “Begin now,” and Sam picked up the test parchment, slit open the wax seal with the tip of his finger, and unrolled it. He dipped his pen in the bottle of ink and started the test.
The first question was: In battle, it is customary to dispatch an injured enemy if they are unable to defend themselves? It was a true or false question. He marked the false box and continued.
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