Diana Alderoot and the Gilded Mage

by Trista Shaye

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any

  means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Characters appearing in this work are factitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Map Illustration © 2020 The Illustrated Author Design Services

  Interior formatting and illustration © 2020 The Illustrated Author Design Services

  Cover Design by Magpie Designs, Ltd, © 2020

  Image Credit: Pixabay

  Texture Credit: Sascha Duensing

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  Dedication

  Author's Note

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Now Available

  For my Mom -

  who not only taught me how to read and write, but also read us fantasy books and exciting adventures when we were kids and inspired my love for the genres.

  I love you!

  Author’s Note

  Please note, the faries in this story are around the size of normal humans with several of the creatures being gigantic in size. Diana herself, being around thirteen years of age, is about four and a half feet tall.

  One

  “You’re going to be late!” the shop keeper said urgently. She pointed a finger up towards her golden finch – the one that sang upon the hour all day long, and who was perched behind the counter on a long metal stand. It ruffled its feathers and blinked its beady, black eyes at them.

  Diana glanced up at the brightly colored bird as she knelt to stuff the plum cake she’d just picked out into her woven leaf backpack. The bird adjusted its wings and plumped its plumage before opening its tiny beak to let out a trilling cry.

  The fairy girl quickly flipped the top of her backpack down and swung the vine straps over her shoulders as she stood. “The train’s not hard to catch,” she replied reassuringly. “I’ll be alright.”

  “If you think so.” The woman tsked a couple times before reaching out to withdraw her finch from its perch behind her. She ran a single finger down its fluffy back as it reached the song’s crescendo and then brought it to a close. “It’s the first day and we all know you have a bad habit of being – ”

  “Just on time.” Diana finished her sentence, hoisting the backpack up a little higher and turning to leave the bakery. “I’m never late.”

  “But you’re never early, dear.” The baker sighed.

  “Maybe I’ll learn that skill in class,” Diana called over her shoulder as she pushed the oblong, wooden door of the shop open and stepped to the edge of the door frame. “Gotta go! Or I will be late!”

  She stepped off the ledge of the bakery door, her transparent wings, which poked out to either side of the leaf backpack, caught the breeze and lifted her before she could fall the hundred or so feet to the forest floor below. Both of her hands held tightly to their respective vine straps that were slung over her shoulders and she soared through the main thoroughfare of the fairy city.

  She was careful not to rush past the rest of the shops or by the other fairy shoppers and store owners. When they caught sight of her as she passed, they would shake their heads or give her a specific grown-up look that she supposed was meant to make her feel guilty. But she kept her head held high and nodded with a brilliant smile to them all. She knew she was supposed to be on the train by now and all the rest of the city knew it as well. But as the baker had mentioned, Diana had a certain habit that was just … well, hard to kick.

  Once she reached the edge of town and had slipped past the train station – that was now quite empty – she put on a burst of speed and flitted her way out into the forest, aiming to catch up with the recently departed train. Oh, her friends would give her an earful when she finally lighted down in her seat and she mentally prepared herself for it.

  ‘Maybe I ought to do something about this never being early thing,’ she chided herself internally. But it wasn’t always her fault, and the first day of anything new was always a hassle to get ready and get out the door.

  Diana caught sight of the string of gigantic snails that were just a little further up ahead on the forest floor and began to slow her rapid flight. As she had said to the baker, the train wasn’t hard to catch up with, and honestly, she could have taken much longer and still been able to get to it easily enough.

  She back pedaled only slightly as she maneuvered herself over her assigned snail seat and slowly lighted down into a crisscross sitting position on top of the large polished shell. It wasn’t comfortable at all, so she adjusted to simply straddling it with both legs, her hands in between them to maintain balance. She stared blankly at the long train of meandering creatures, each with a young fairy sitting atop their back. In that moment, she decided she probably could run all the way and still beat them there. She blew a bored breath out, ruffling the hair hanging by her eyes and nose.

  “Where have you been, Diana? We left a half an hour ago.” Her friend, Midge, who sat behind her, spoke up after she’d situated herself.

  He always asked her where she’d been, because rarely was she ever on time to catch the train at the boarding station in the city. Come to think of it, she didn’t know what it looked like to board the train at the station. She’d never actually done it.

  “Yeah, I have to work on that …” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.

  “What was that?” Sildra, the fairy who sat in front of her, turned slightly and cocked her head to one side.

  “Nothing.” Diana laughed nervously, brushing the other girl off.

  Almost all the other fairy kids thought her strange already and she didn’t need them thinking more of the same, or worse. Fairies their age could be quite cruel.

  “I was only grabbing lunch,” she replied to Midge, throwing her words back over her shoulder to him.

  Slowly, she turned herself around so she could face him and they could talk less loudly. It took an awfully long time to get anywhere on the snail train and if one didn’t indulge in a bit of conversation with other passengers, it was a bit dull. Even though the scenery was quite beautiful in The Magic Vale, it was the same scenery Diana had seen countless times before.

  “Did they all stare at you again?” Midge asked, referring to all the older fairies in the city who must have noticed her tardiness.

  She shrugged, rolled her eyes, and let out a short breath from her nose in dismissal. “I don’t even notice anymore.” But that wasn’t the truth, though she wasn’t about to say so. “Did your Mum make you clean your hollow again?”

  “Eh, yeah.” Midge made a face and scratched behind his head absently, looking a little embarrassed. “Says I have to keep it clean to be allowed on the train each day. Truth is I’d rather not be here at all, but I suppose
this is a good experience or something. At least, that’s my parents’ excuse. But who wants to spend their summer stuck in a classroom? I want to be out in the woods on adventures and eating crumb cakes around the fire late at night, not going to school.” He crossed his arms over his chest and blew his wispy blond hair from his eyes. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Yeah,” was all Diana could think to say in reply. She was secretly quite interested in what they were supposed to be going to summer school for.

  This was the first time in all of fairy history they had held summer classes; she could understand why Midge, and likely many others, were miffed by the elders’ choice. These classes hadn’t been optional and some fairies, who left to the west or east for the summer to vacation on the edges of The Magic Vale, had to hold off on their travels so that their children could partake in the mandatory schooling – some of the parents were even upset it seemed.

  The council, seven of the eldest fairies alive, had received a message from Castle Majestic – the realm of the wizards and mages – and were made an offer they couldn’t refuse. Summer classes were announced and the registry was opened. The students were enrolled and given their acceptance letters – no one had ever received a letter of refusal but apparently it was all a part of some custom, or whatnot.

  The students knew, as they rode that day toward the school on the back of the snail train, that a mage would be waiting for them there. A magician, a scholar, someone who could teach them of magic and of things in the other realms beyond their own. Supposedly, it was going to be good for their “worldly understanding” and some such nonsense.

  They knew nothing about the mage himself, except that it would indeed be a him. They weren’t even given a name, nor a description of height, nor face, nor clothes, just that they were to take part in his classes each day and they were expected to listen well and make him feel welcome.

  As unfair as it seemed to many and, honestly, even to Diana, it still also seemed a bit exciting, for nothing like this had ever happened in all the history of The Magic Vale. Not once had a wizard been asked to come to the fairy realm. Until now, each of the races had kept to themselves. They weren’t hostile towards their neighbors, it was just how it had always been, each keeping to their own. But now, now they were branching out, however little of a branch it was.

  None of the students had even seen a wizard before, that Diana knew of leastwise, and she wondered what this one would be like, and if they were all relatively the same or if they varied in size and character greatly.

  “Do you wonder what he looks like?” Diana ventured out of her own reflections to speak again to her friend. “Or if, perhaps, his voice is low or high?”

  “Or if he’ll make us sit in the corner if we’re not listening?” Midge smirked.

  “I suppose, being a wizard, he’d likely do something far worse, if that were to happen,” Diana said, her eyes growing a little wider. She wasn’t sure if that would actually be true or not, but thought to scare her friend just a little bit.

  Midge tried to shrug off her comment and fell back to the original question of appearance. “I bet he’s old.”

  “Old?”

  “Yeah, with white hair and a long beard. Probably got a slight limp and bend to his back.” Midge nodded approvingly at his description, painting an imaginary picture of their tutor in their minds eye. “I bet he’s got a long nose and maybe a wart on the side of it.”

  “His eyes would be a dull grey and slightly sunken. And I bet he’ll move his mouth a lot as he thinks, a habit born of age,” Diana offered.

  “Of course,” her friend nodded more fervently. “He’ll carry a staff with bones and feathers and weird cloth bags with ingredients for spells inside. And he’ll be hard of hearing most likely, and it will be dull and he’ll ramble quite a bit.” Midge was turning sour again and remembering all the things he was missing at the moment. He sighed deeply. “He sounds quite awful and this all seems quite terrible.”

  Diana thought she heard him mutter “unfair” one more time before she turned herself back around to see where they were and to prepare for the stream crossing.

  In her mind, she found herself hoping all the more that their teacher would be nothing like what they had described. But in her heart she was more and more convinced there could be no other way around it. For that was, indeed, what a wizard was, was it not? An old, boring, book-learned grandfather who didn’t want them to have any fun in the slightest and who wanted to make sure they learned everything he could cram into their brains over the next few months.

  “Regardless,” she muttered, setting her face. “We’re making history today, history.”

  She held on with her fingers to the ridges in the snail’s shell as they got closer to the stream. The lead snail in the train let out a “Ho!” and the centipede by the stream’s edge called back – “Ho!” He muscled up and rolled himself out across the brook from bank to bank, his hundred or so legs tickling the air just above the water’s surface.

  As the train began to cross the bridge on the back of the centipede, Diana looked down past her feet to the gently rolling water. It was magical and breathtaking but also slightly terrifying as the living bridge moved and swayed under the weight of the snails.

  After they’d crossed the stream that ran through the center of The Magic Vale, they slid on for a few more minutes.

  In the distance, as Diana looked up, she caught sight of the school house nestled sweetly in between the tree trunks and mossy greens of the forest.

  She sighed. Maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad, after all. Maybe he would be kind. Or maybe she was just lying to herself to bolster her courage.

  As they drew closer, suddenly the train halted unexpectedly and she bounced forward a little on her seat. The lead snail had stopped, but they were still several yards away from the school’s boarding station.

  She glanced at the train’s head but saw nothing wrong there. Then, looking up, she realized it was the school itself that was the issue.

  “Oh,” she breathed out quickly. “It’s on fire.”

  Two

  No one was going anywhere with the train halted, and the snails were urging their riders to stay in their seats while they thought of what to do – a fire would be quite dangerous and they didn’t want anyone to get hurt. A single school teacher had ridden with them today, Miss Mardell, and as she dismounted, she also urged the students to stay put while she checked things out.

  However, Diana and many of the other students ignored the snails and the hasty instruction of their teacher. They dismounted and jogged forward to see how bad things really were and what could be done. Diana pushed through the mass of students and wiggled her way to the front to get a good look – there certainly was a massive amount of smoke pouring from the old place and billowing into the nearby woods. It didn’t look very promising for the building.

  Suddenly, a single figure staggered out of the open door to lean on the wooden frame and cough through the smoke. Diana assumed it was the caretaker the council had assigned to look after the building and make certain all things ran smoothly with it. But apparently it was not going well today at all.

  “What’s happened here?” the sharp, commanding voice of Miss Mardell exclaimed through everyone’s stupor. She was pushing some of the students back and trying to make a barrier with her body, but that wasn’t working too well for her.

  “No worries … ma’am,” the fellow in the smoke said past his coughing bouts. “Just an attempt to light a fire in the hearth. But the chimney … seems to be blocked.”

  “It is indeed. That fireplace hasn’t been used in over two generations,” she remarked, blinking in the thick air. “And in the summer? Really? A fire? Who are you?”

  “Me?” He hobbled forward from the haze, waving the smoke away from his face.

  Diana got a bit of a look at him – he was no
fairy. He was young and clean-shaven, with brown hair, and a long robe.

  “I’m Kendel, all out of sorts, but I’m your resident mage, ma’am.”

  Diana’s eyebrows jumped and she tried to find Midge’s face amidst the group – this wasn’t what they had prepared for in the slightest. He wasn’t haggard or old, ugly or sharp in features. His voice, though she was sure it was a bit distorted from the fumes, seemed light and he rather appeared to be soft spoken and quiet in nature.

  “Well!” Miss Mardell harrumphed, her balled-up hands finding her hips. “Shouldn’t you have known the fireplace was old and ill-used with your magic?”

  “S-sorry, ma’am,” he stuttered, slightly taken aback by her accusation. “Magic isn’t like that. It’s … quite different.”

  “I see,” the teacher said, raising one manicured brow and sighing. “Well, is the school in need of putting out or not?”

  “Oh, no indeed!” He seemed eager to please and quick to his response. “It isn’t on fire at all, merely smoking from my mis-happenstance. I’ll clear the area of the smoke, quick as a whistle, so the students can come in.”

  He turned to go back inside, paused, turned around, and shooed them with a hand. “May want to stand back a bit.” he cautioned, then disappeared inside.

  No one moved. The lady teacher had her lips pursed and she looked entirely unimpressed. Suddenly, a great whooshing sound spiraled out of the school and all the smoke in the woods and surrounding area was quickly sucked back inside, like a great breath was being taken by the building itself. Then, it went quiet like the very realm had ceased all movement. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting to see what would happen.

  All at once, a gentle sound rolled out from the school, like rain falling on a quaint fairy roof on a late summer night in June. Smoke colored butterflies burst from the building, through the open door and out the windows, taking flight off into the tree-dappled daylight. The students let out gasps and followed the flight of the creatures with looks of awe. Some giggled as they looked at Miss Mardell who – having not stepped back as the mage suggested – was blinking back frustrated anger. She was covered in quite a bit of soot and ash while her hair was blown back and dancing all around her head at odd angles.