by Nick McNeil
Bertly peered inside each classroom as they shuffled through the hallways. He was unable to see much, but he caught quick glimpses every so often. The classrooms had amphitheater-style seating, and the rooms looked large enough to fit at least two hundred students. The teachers ranged from young to old, male to female, dwarf to giant. As Bertly and Polly approached their classroom, the crowd thinned out. Polly scanned the room numbers, reading them aloud as she and Bertly passed them: another habit of hers that annoyed him.
“Seven hundred seventy-seven, seven hundred seventy-nine…seven hundred eighty-two! We’re here,” Polly announced.
Bertly opened the door to the classroom. As he was about to enter, Polly brushed by.
“Thanks, Bertly,” Polly sang out.
The room was much smaller than the others Bertly had seen; it was flat and consisted of only eight workbenches.
“You’re late.” A giant with short frizzy hair and a chiseled jaw hovered over the classroom while he addressed Bertly and Polly. The giant stood with a graceful posture despite his enormous frame. “You know I have the right to drop you from this course, correct?”
The two humans stood in place, looking up at the giant, neither of them able to formulate a sentence in response to him. The giant stood silently, observing as Bertly and Polly stumbled over their words.
The giant sized them up and crossed his arms. He let out a monstrous laugh.
“I am only giving you a hard time. Lighten up.” The giant continued to giggle. “You should see the looks on your faces.” The giant gestured toward the workbenches. “Please take a seat. I am Master Alestar. I will be your Human Magic teacher.” As Alestar paced the front of the room, his heavy footfalls reverberated through the space. “I know I am neither a human, nor was I alive when the last red-eyed human walked this world. I know, I look stunning and youthful—” Alestar flexed his biceps. “But I am actually much older than I appear. I studied the theory of human magic in the city of Eskos for three hundred years.”
“But, sir, how old does that make you?” Bertly asked. The words seemed to pop out of his lips before his mind could approve of them. He sank back in his chair and his cheeks began to heat. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Alestar grinned. “Curiosity killed the koko, you know. Nonetheless, how does one ever obtain knowledge if not through curiosity? I will humor your question, small human.” The elegant giant pulled up a tall barstool behind him. He rested his leg on the top bar, placing his elbow over his knee. “I am actually four hundred years old. I’ve spent most of my life fascinated by spells. If I was awake, I was studying. I graduated the Academy in just six years, mind you.” Alestar smirked. “Once I had spent one hundred years orally learning every spell I could find, I had no choice but to move on to human magic. Human magic was much harder to study. No one actively teaches or practices it. It took me nearly centuries, but I believe I have learned all we have recorded on human magic.” Alestar looked at Bertly and Polly. His red eyes were gentle. “Call me a fool, but I think our meeting was part of Cordelia’s plan.” A large bell filled the classroom. Each gong was spaced out and deep in tone.
“Well, if you two weren’t so late, we may have been able to get started on some spells,” Alestar said with a gruff sigh. “I will see you both tomorrow.”
***
Bertly and Polly pushed through the crowded hallways.
“Move. I will not be late again, Bertly,” Polly said. He was startled at the harshness of her words. He had never heard Polly speak in an agitated tone and would have even thought it impossible for her to do so.
“What class do we have next?” Bertly questioned in an attempt to lighten the tone of the conversation.
“I am not sure what your next class is, Bertly. But I have racial history.” Polly pressed forward through the crowd. Bertly searched each of his pant and jacket pockets. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Polly, can I see your schedule, please?”
Polly avoided eye contact, but she shoved her schedule at his chest. Bertly held the schedules side by side. Once he’d read them in their entireties, he double-checked them due to disbelief. Bertly threw his head back. “Well, it appears we have every class together.”
“That’s wonderful, Bertly, but I am currently concerned with our next class,” Polly said.
***
The duo arrived to a half-filled classroom. The desks were squished together and spanned twelve rows back.
“You got lucky this time, Bertly,” Polly said. Her body language was more relaxed. Back to normal.
Bertly headed for the back row. But Polly cut him off. “Where are you going, Bertly? We can’t see from back there.” She grabbed his wrist and led him to the center of the front row. Students filled the room shortly after.
An elf with pale skin and blond hair, poised at the head of the classroom, stood gazing over the students. She tried to divide her attention but kept bringing her eyes back to Bertly and Polly. The bell rang.
“Good morning, class. I am Master Dova. This is Racial History Before the Blight. If you are not taking Racial History Before the Blight, then you are in the wrong classroom.” A handful of students shuffled out of the room, and Master Dova waited until the last of them had exited before she continued. “Now, before we get into things, let’s make sure we are all on the same page. Who can tell me the names of the five realms? Just shout them out, no need to raise your hand.”
“Eplium,” an elf shouted.
“Bablanca,” a young dwarf said.
The room sat quiet. “Is that it, no other lands matter?” Dova asked.
Polly raised her hand.
“Just shout it out,” Dova insisted.
“There is Noskar, the home of humans. Eskos, land of the giants. And of course…” Polly waited. “The Decomposite.”
“Thank you, miss,” Dova said cheerfully. “Now, please do not be shy. We have to break the ice in this class if we ever want an honest discussion. What are some things we know about each of the races?” Dova peered over the still, silent room. “This is a class of cowards, I see.”
“Cordelia was the greatest elf,” an elven boy answered.
“Cordelia was a dwarf. Everyone knows that.” A young dwarf stood up and glared at the elven boy.
The elven boy rose. “You honestly think Cordelia was a halfling?” The whole classroom started to bicker as each race claimed Cordelia as one of their own.
“Settle down,” Dova interjected. “I appreciate the passion, but you should all know by now, Cordelia was believed to be a human. This is the accepted theory. Speaking of which, what do we know about humans?”
Comments flooded in from all over the room.
“They can’t learn magic.”
“No monsters in Noskar.”
“They don’t live very long.”
“They’re weak.”
“They stopped the Blight and ended the Great War,” Bertly howled. He couldn’t help but take the negativity personally. He glanced at Polly to gauge her reaction, but she only displayed the same aloof smile as always.
“That they did,” Dova added. She looked toward Bertly and Polly. Her body language was hard to read. Bertly could not tell if she was intrigued or annoyed by Bertly’s comment. “Now, what do we know about elves?”
The students participated without hesitation.
“Pointy ears.”
“Doctors.”
“They’re wise.”
“Splendid,” Dova responded. “And dwarves?”
“They like shiny rocks.”
“They’re strong.”
“They remember everything they read and hear.”
“Spectacular. Now, what about giants?” Dova looked over the classroom with wide eyes. She looked to every corner of the room, waiting for a student to speak up.
“They’re big,” Bertly said. The classroom broke into unified laughter.
Dova stood soundlessly and studied Polly. “Now then, maybe you should be the one teaching this class. Wonderful answer, female human.” Dova gave Polly a wink. The bell rang. “Time flies when you’re having fun, now doesn’t it? Tomorrow please come ready to discuss a champion who is not from your realm.”
***
“The rest of my day was filled with mathematics and writing courses. I will not bore you with the meager details,” Bertly inserted.
Roderick bobbed his head in agreement. “Sounds good, sir. I never was a fan of math.”
***
Bertly and Polly sat across from the twins and Almar in the packed dining hall. The tables that stretched the length of the prestigious hall were piled with food and so many dishes that the wooden tabletops were completely obscured.
“This is delicious.” Bertly took a bite of a smoky, honey-sweetened turkey leg. He closed his eyes and smiled.
“They say the chefs use spells on the food,” Orin shouted.
“Yep, ordinary food, extraordinary taste,” Orîn added. They both took bites of their baked potatoes filled with melted butter and topped with cheese.
“I don’t care how they do it, to be honest,” Bertly grumbled, his mouth full of food, table manners disregarded. “As long as my taste buds keep dancing.” Bertly moved on to a new dish before he finished chewing. “How late is this place open?”
“It’s always open,” the twins replied.
“Always?” Bertly repeated.
“Always.” The twins filled their mouths with smoked turkey legs.
“I am quite curious. Did you two have a magic class today?” Almar asked, his eyes flicking between Bertly and Polly.
“Yes, but we didn’t learn any magic.” Bertly dipped his dinner roll into a creamy soup.
“That’s because someone made us late.” Polly nudged his shoulder.
“Oh, Bertly.” Almar shook his head. “Why am I not surprised? Who was your professor?”
“Master Alestar,” Bertly answered, once again with a full mouth. The twins and Almar stopped eating. The few students who were eavesdropping gasped.
“You’re kidding,” the twins challenged. They wiped their mouths with their shirts and gawked at the two humans.
“Seriously, Bertly, you are kidding, aren’t you?” Almar repeated. Bertly and Polly glanced at each other. The half smile wiped off Almar’s face. “You’re serious?” He adjusted his posture. “You two do know who Master Alestar is?”
Bertly and Polly gave thin smiles in response. Almar and the twins looked at each other in disbelief. They looked at the surrounding students as well, whose eyes were wide with astonishment.
“He’s a legend,” the twins exclaimed.
“Master Alestar is the youngest graduate in Academy history. He has discovered nearly half the modern spells we use today.” Almar’s voice grew louder. “Not only that, rumor is, he soul-bonded with a gryphon.” Almar stared at Bertly and Polly with his arms spread wide, awaiting their response.
“What’s soul-bonding?” Bertly asked.
Almar let out a big sigh. “This was supposed to be a mind-blowing moment, Bertly, and you ruined it with your ignorance.” The students who had been eavesdropping turned away to carry on with their previous conversations. Almar relaxed in his seat. “Soul-bonding is when you merge your soul with an animal’s soul. It allows you to control an animal telepathically. The average wizard merges with their dog or koko. But some great wizards can bond with a sabretooth, bear, or even a mammoth. A gryphon is unheard of. It is the most intimidating creature since Cordelia’s dragon.”
Bertly and Polly’s eyebrows rose a notch and their eyes widened.
“Are we going to learn how to soul-bond?” Polly asked.
Almar sat up straight and puffed his chest. “This is the response I was looking for. In short, yes. However, the Academy will not teach you until you are in the Mastery program.”
“Did you hear that, Bertly?” Polly asked as she jabbed at Bertly with her index finger. “Even more reason to try really hard to make it into the Mastery program.” Polly started to ask Almar another question, but Bertly jumped in, interrupting her.
“Does Master Alestar still have his gryphon? Is it here?”
“Of course he still has it. You are bonded with your animal until the day you’re buried,” Almar answered.
“Does he lodge it on campus?”
“I am not sure. No one has seen her in quite some time.”
Bertly’s racing mind drowned out the surrounding conversations. He didn’t want to just be a famous wizard one day, he wanted to be the greatest wizard. Soul-bonding could be his chance to outclass Polly. He understood that a simple creature wouldn’t do; Bertly would need to bond with the toughest creature in Pangea. He needed to cement his mark and follow in the footsteps of Cordelia; he needed to bond with a dragon.
IV
The morning bell rang and Bertly sprang out of bed. He needed to be on time for Master Alestar’s class.
While Bertly changed his clothes and peered around the room, he spotted Polly’s empty bed. “Polly, are you here?” he called out.
A muffled voice emerged from outside the tree cabin. Bertly rushed to finish changing, and once he was fully dressed, he flung open the front door. He came to an immediate halt, as he was still stunned by the fresh grass between his toes and the warm sun beating on his skin; such comforts made Bertly forget what had drawn him outside in the first place. The air smelled as though a thunderstorm had passed during the night.
“Good morning, Bertly. You’re up early today. I brought you some breakfast.” Polly sat underneath a small tree. The tree had grown to a short height, but it provided just enough shade to protect Polly’s fair skin from the sun. She held a book in one hand and a fresh pastry in the other. “I hope you like cheese filling.” Polly waved the pastry about for Bertly to see.
Who doesn’t like cheese? Bertly thought indignantly as he sat next to Polly despite the fact that he didn’t particularly wish to. His stomach growled, and though he wasn’t Polly’s biggest fan, he found her gesture to be kind.
“Thanks, Polly.” Bertly tore off the plain bread edges of the croissant and only ate the cheese filling. “Did you bring that book with you?”
Bertly’s stomach suddenly filled with butterflies as he remembered his mother’s book. The commotion of his first day had jumbled his mind, and he was annoyed with himself for forgetting about it. His heart raced from excitement. Bertly had never heard the sound of his mother’s voice. He didn’t know the mannerisms or small quirks that made her unique. This was his first opportunity to connect with his mother.
“I mean, what good school wouldn’t have a library, right?” Polly finished.
Bertly looked at Polly. “I’m sorry, I need to grab something from our room.” He stood up.
She frowned at him. “Is it important, Bertly? We really should be off to class,” Polly urged.
Bertly stood still for a moment. Polly had given him breakfast that morning and informed him of the school library, and she also knew how to navigate the castle better than he did. Bertly knew he wouldn’t have time to delve into his mother’s book right now, anyway. “It can wait. Maybe we can even arrive before Master Alestar today.”
***
Bertly and Polly marched through the classroom doors of room 782. They headed straight for the workbench closest to the front of the class, eager to begin their lesson.
Reclined in a chair, with his feet propped up on a desk, sat Master Alestar. Bertly guessed that he had arrived quite early that morning, based on the chalkboard, which was already filled
with notes.
“Look who decided to show up,” Master Alestar said. “Maybe we can actually attempt some sorcery today.” He leaped out of his chair and sailed toward the chalkboard. “As you can see, we have a lot to cover this morning. First—” Alestar cocked his head to the side. “Where are your notebooks and writing utensils?”
Bertly and Polly looked at each other. Their moon-shaped eyes locked, and both of their faces reddened. They looked back at Master Alestar, but did not answer his question. The answer was, after all, rather apparent.
Alestar smacked his palm against his forehead. “Polly, dearest, open the drawer on your left. There should be some extra notebooks and quills. Please grab one for you and one for Bertly as well.” Polly reached into the drawer and pulled out two thin notebooks and a pair of quills, which were identical to the ones they’d used during their entrance exams.
“Sir, I worry we may need more than one each. These are rather…slim.” Polly fanned her thumb across the notebook, emphasizing how few pages it contained.
“Then I suggest you write very, very small.” Polly’s cheeks deepened to an even redder hue at the instructor’s comment. Alestar giggled. “Oh my. I’ve gotten you yet again. I am only kidding. Once you fill the last page, a new one will appear.”
Polly sighed and offered a feeble giggle. Master Alestar looked her in the eye. “You need to keep your mind open. Magic’s only limits are the ones we give it.” Alestar’s expression dulled. “There are more red-eyed students at the Academy this year than there ever have been before. I do not think this is a coincidence, magic returning to humans. I am glad the faculty has been able to downplay you two.” Alestar turned back to the board.
On the top left-hand side of the chalkboard, the word Age was written in bold text. Alestar swiped his finger in the air, and an underline appeared beneath the word.
“Age,” Alestar exclaimed. The enthusiasm returned to his voice. “What is the average age of a student who casts their first spell?”
Polly stretched her arm high above her head, wiggling her fingers.