The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard

by Nick McNeil

  “Pessimistic, but true. No realm permits traveling to the Decomposite.” Dova nodded at Polly. “The Decomposite is filled with wonder. However, very few who go there ever find what they seek.” Dova flared her finger. “Death” was written across the chalkboard. “Every living creature in the Decomposite is the last of its kind. Every last beast by instinct travels to the Decomposite to protect its species. Once there, they become immortal by nature, but can choose mortality. When might a creature from the Decomposite choose a mortal life?”

  There was no response from the class. Master Dova tried to make eye contact with some of the students, but they looked away or fiddled with their quills as soon as her eyes swept over them. She glanced at Bertly, who made eye contact with her by accident. “Bertly, what are your thoughts?”

  Bertly rubbed his chin. “Um, possibly to soul-bond?” He gave a half shrug.

  “Clever thinking, Bertly. That is not the most common reason for choosing mortality, but I could see it being a realistic one. Typically, creatures cannot handle the depressing life in the Decomposite, so they often try to return to Pangea. It is not long after returning to Pangea before most are hunted down. Either as a trophy or to sell to merchants for a high price. One dragon could make a family rich for at least three generations. Therefore, most rare monsters often don’t make it past the Remnant Forest surrounding the Decomposite.”

  The tower bell echoed through the classroom. The students quickly packed their bags and shuffled toward the exit. “We will finish up the lesson on the Decomposite tomorrow,” Dova added before everyone could leave.

  Bertly was the first out the door. He only had thirty minutes left to find a master, so he hustled across the castle and stormed into his dormitory. This is the end. After today my chances of becoming a master are over. Bertly smashed his knapsack into the wall and fell face-first onto his bed. He yelled as loud as he could into his pillow as his eyes filled with tears. He rested for a moment and collected himself before sitting back up and staring dead-eyed at the ground. Cordelia, please. Bertly raised his hand in the air. “Cordelia, reveal my mail.”

  Finally, a piece of parchment materialized between his fingers. He sat still with his arm in the air, almost afraid to look at it. He was terrified that it would not be an invitation, but instead a notice that he’d missed the deadline after all. With his eyes closed, he slowly moved the piece of paper down through the air until it rested in front of his face. After taking a few deep breaths and exhaling them slowly, he opened his eyes to read the text.

  Dear Bertly, son of Edfrid,

  Congratulations on receiving an offer from Master Alestar. If you wish to accept Master Alestar as your master, please state “Cordelia, I accept.” If you wish to deny this motion, please state “Cordelia, I do not accept.” Please submit your answer before the next cycle.

  Bertly jumped to his feet and shouted, “Cordelia, I accept!”

  ***

  “Sir, I had no idea this is how Master Alestar asked you to be his apprentice.” Roderick had a glowing smile across his face. “This is exactly how you asked me. Why didn’t you tell me it was tradition?”

  Bertly stared at Roderick with a blank look on his face. “Oh, of course…that is exactly why I waited until the last minute to ask you.” Bertly faked a smile and signaled for Roderick to continue writing.

  ***

  Bertly, letter in hand, sprinted out of the human wing and headed straight for the library. He scanned the room for his friends, but quickly remembered that it was dinnertime as he took in the empty seats and unoccupied rows of books. Bertly bustled out of the library—bumping anyone who got in his way—and dashed through the dining hall toward his friends, knocking plates and cups out of his classmates’ hands. “You aren’t going to believe who just—”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t go back home. All of my siblings have already gotten into the Mastery program.” Tears rushed down Almar’s face. Polly and the twins rubbed his back while they listened to him ramble. About what, Bertly was not certain. He understood, however, that he would not be getting accolades from his friends for landing a prestigious master, and he was irked by this knowledge. His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he pushed his own self-importance to the side.

  Bertly walked up behind the group. “What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t make it into the Mastery program, Bertly,” Almar lashed out, his voice loud and his hands balled into fists. Almar looked at the ground after his outburst and shook his head.

  Bertly’s stomach dropped. Almar was one of the smartest elves he knew. “What?” Tears formed in the corners of Bertly’s eyes.

  “That’s it, Bertly, I’m done.” Almar wiped his eyes. “Tomorrow morning I receive my certification to perform legal magic, and that’s it. I have to go and find a job somewhere.” Almar blew his nose into a handkerchief. “I will never get to soul-bond or take my spirit quest.”

  Bertly flopped on top of Almar, giving him a big hug. Almar hesitated. Then he wrapped his arms so tightly around Bertly that Bertly could barely breathe.

  ***

  Bertly turned away from Roderick and walked to the corner of the room, plopping onto the misshaped bed that took up a large portion of the room. It was fully covered by a blanket of long brown fur. “What was at stake became real for me that day. Acceptance into the Mastery program wasn’t to be assumed.” Bertly paused. “I had to say goodbye to my first friend in order to learn that.”

  “I am sorry, sir. I was the only one out of all my friends who got into the Mastery program. I know how you feel.” Roderick gave Bertly an empathetic look.

  Bertly pulled a piece of string from his pocket and used it to tie his hair into a sloppy bun. He laid the back of his head against the furry blanket. “My master taught me a great deal over the years that came to pass. Enough to prepare me for the carnage that would come during my time as a master.” Bertly pointed at the parchment Roderick was writing on. Roderick nodded and continued to write while Bertly dictated the timeline.

  ***

  It was a fortnight before Drizzle Day and Bertly sat with his apprentice overlooking Eplium. The sky was dark, and the city could hardly be seen—

  ***

  “Wait, sir. Are you seriously skipping ahead nearly eight years?” Roderick sat back in his chair. “But what about your entire time at the Academy?”

  “I am skipping the boring parts, Roderick. If we went through and added every small, minute detail, we would be here for the rest of eternity. This is a necessary time leap. Now, stop questioning my methods.” Bertly sat up and gave his apprentice a dirty look. “Do you really want to hear about me studying spells every day for twelve hours? Every advanced course I ever enrolled in? All the useless spells Polly and I created?” Bertly’s tone soothed. “Trust me, I am doing you a favor.”

  “Well, sir, yes, I sort of do,” Roderick responded.

  “Roderick, you know we do not have time for this. We must finish my novella before morning. You-know-who will be here before the crack of dawn,” Bertly emphasized.

  Roderick slouched in his chair and fidgeted with the parchment in front of him.

  Bertly sighed. “Fine. Year one, Polly and I learned the fundamentals. We studied every spell the Academy had on file and practiced our pronunciation until we spoke everything with perfection. Year two, Polly and I started conjuring spells nearly every day. Year three, Polly and I wrapped up our racial history and culture classes. Year four, Polly and I started combat training. I was the top of our class, I might add. We also started to learn minor healing spells—the elves caught on the quickest, naturally. By year five, we were both able to conjure every spell we knew nonverbally. Polly and I also finished our training on how to be a good master.” Bertly stopped for air. “There, now you know everything. Wasn’t that exciting? Can we please move on?”

  “Yes, sir, very detailed…can you at least tell me how you got the cur
few reinstated?” Roderick begged.

  The corner of Bertly’s mouth quivered. “Fair enough, young apprentice. But first, tell me what you have heard.” Bertly crossed his arms and shot Roderick a probing look.

  “Well, sir, some people say you unleashed alligators into the elven dormitory.”

  “That was the twins,” Bertly corrected.

  “Others say you gave the Grand Elder a heart attack,” Roderick said, with one of his eyebrows raised curiously.

  Bertly scoffed. “That Elder died of entirely natural causes. He inspected Cordelia during her entrance exam, for goodness’ sake. Next.” He gave a dismissive hand wave.

  “The most famous story is…” Roderick paused, but Bertly, growing impatient, urged him to continue. “That you stole your master’s gryphon and started the second Blight.” Roderick twisted the ring on his finger and avoided meeting Bertly’s eyes.

  Bertly sank into the fluffy bed. “Sadly, that one is the closest story to the truth.” He gestured for Roderick to take note.

  ***

  Bertly stood at a workbench with empty stools on both sides of him. He poured a green liquid into a vial of blue sand and snapped his fingers to light a fire beneath the sand. He stuck out his free hand, beckoning his stir stick, which floated effortlessly into his palm, and he used it to mix the solution, creating a giant pink cloud of smoke. He twirled his finger and the smoke cleared. Left inside the vial was a thick turquoise liquid. “I finished the stealth elixir, sir. What did you say we needed this for?”

  “I didn’t.” Alestar was at the workbench next to Bertly, tinkering with an old sword. “How long have you been my apprentice, tiny human?”

  “Just over five years now, sir,” Bertly proudly replied.

  “And you are moving on to the Mastery program next month.” Alestar peered at Bertly and shook his head. “Astonishing. I can’t say I don’t credit myself mostly for the achievement.” Alestar stared blankly at a point Bertly could not see. “A sixteen-year-old master.” He snapped back. “You never would have made it this far if I weren’t your mentor.”

  Bertly glared at Alestar and snapped his fingers. A gust of wind blew over Alestar’s workbench, sending papers flying in every direction. “Weird, someone must have left the window open.” Bertly tried to hold back his smile.

  “Yes, most bizarre.” Alestar waved his hand, sending his own gust of wind blowing throughout the room, knocking test tubes onto the floor, where they burst into many small pieces. Bertly stumbled back and fell over. “Weird, there it is again.” Alestar winked.

  Bertly picked himself up. “Well, sir, are you going to tell me what the elixir I’ve made is for? And why you have been polishing that sword all week?”

  “I am disappointed in your lack of observation, little apprentice. I have been polishing two swords all week.” Alestar reached behind his desk and revealed a second sword. “Tell me, how are you with a blade? I’ve searched the records but did not find your combat results from the entrance exam.”

  “How am I with a blade?” Bertly’s stomach dropped. His hand craved the grip of a sword. “My whole life I dreamed of becoming the world’s greatest soldier. I never wanted anything more than to bring prestige back to my race. My father is the warden of Stonebank. He trained me every single day in combat ever since I was old enough to stand.”

  Alestar strolled over to Bertly, sword in hand. “I asked if you were good with a blade, not for your life story. Not to mention, you still didn’t answer my question.” He presented the sword to Bertly.

  Bertly grasped the sword and held it in the air, admiring the narrow, jagged blade. “Sir, I am more confident with a blade than a mermaid is in the ocean.”

  “Good. You may need to be. How fast can you pack your things?” Alestar’s words were quiet and rushed.

  “I have a travel-sized knapsack with me. I can leave now.” Bertly started organizing his belongings, along with a few supplies from the classroom. “Sir, where are we going?”

  “We are going to the Decomposite,” Alestar stated bluntly.

  Bertly dropped the items he was holding. “Sir, you’re kidding. The Decomposite is strictly forbidden.”

  “Do you trust me?” Alestar looked deep into Bertly’s eyes.

  Bertly’s hands started to sweat. “Yes,” he replied. But only because he knew it was the answer his master expected of him. The Decomposite was dangerous. Alestar was rather old. Had he become demented at some point without Bertly having noticed? He had been sharpening swords and generally acting odd, but even that behavior wasn’t out of line for his master.

  “I will explain more on the way. But we must leave. Now. We, unfortunately, are running low on time.” Alestar grabbed a prepacked bag and led Bertly out of the room. They headed toward the back gates of the castle.

  “The stables, sir?” Bertly asked.

  “Yes, did you plan to walk all the way to the Decomposite?” Alestar questioned. “I have a friend I would like you to meet.” Alestar pulled open the heavy wooden gates. He walked to the back wall of the stables and traced a pattern along the stone bricks—which shuffled around, creating an entryway.

  “You first.” Alestar nudged Bertly through the entrance. The room led to an outdoor courtyard. Alestar whistled. The distant snap of large wings emerged, and a massive creature swept in. Its wingspan was at least thirty feet, from what Bertly could gauge. It had back claws like a lion, accompanied by razor-sharp talons on its front legs. It was covered in feathers and had a head shaped like an eagle. Bertly stumbled backward at the sight of the creature. He’d only heard tales of it, but there it stood before him. It was a gryphon.

  It landed gracefully and rushed over to meet Alestar. The creature rubbed its face all over its owner. “Okay, okay, settle down now,” Alestar said through small bursts of laughter. The gryphon jumped on top of him, sending Alestar crashing to the ground. “Clia, calm down, girl. You act as though I didn’t see you yesterday. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Clia hopped off Alestar and looked over at Bertly.

  “This is Bertly, my apprentice. We like him.” Alestar waved Bertly over.

  “Stick out your hand and let her come to you,” Alestar instructed. The gryphon stood even taller than Master Alestar. Bertly extended his shaking hand and flinched as Clia approached him and cautiously sniffed his fingers. After she’d had enough of sniffing, she pounced on top of him and rubbed her face on him just as she had done to Alestar. Bertly’s nervousness turned into excitement as he let out a monstrous laugh.

  “Would you look at that? She likes you.” Alestar chuckled. “I hate to break up the party, but we are in a hurry.”

  Alestar whistled. Clia popped up onto her feet and bowed down for Alestar to climb onto her back. “Come on over, Bertly, and hold on tight.”

  Bertly mounted Clia, gripping her feathers as tight as he could. Clia flapped her wings, stirring up a great dust cloud underneath them.

  ***

  “Sir, you got to ride a gryphon?” Roderick shrieked.

  “Roderick, do you or do you not want to know how I got the curfew reinstated?” Bertly demanded.

  “Sorry, sir. Please continue. I was merely excited. The gryphon is the rarest creature in all of Pangea. Even more so than a dragon.” The elf squealed.

  ***

  The wind blew through Bertly’s hair as the gryphon soared into the sky. Even during the toughest storm, he had never felt a wind so strong against his skin. After only a minute of flight, the massive castle faded into a small pinpoint on the horizon.

  “Something else, isn’t it?” Alestar was sitting behind Bertly, keeping him secure on the large beast.

  “I don’t know how to describe it, sir.” Bertly looked over all of Pangea. If he’d climbed the highest mountain in the world, he would still not have had such a view.

  “Luckily with Clia here, we can turn a two-week hike into a few-hour flight.” Alestar patted her gentl
y on the side. “I know you must be confused, Bertly, so I am going to be completely honest with you. You may not be ready to hear this, but I am not sure we have much of a choice.” Alestar eased up on the reins, and Clia stopped generously flapping her wings and turned to gliding. “I do not think that the phenomenon of us having more red-eyed citizens than ever is a good thing.”

  “It could be from population growth, sir,” Bertly chimed in.

  “Not this quickly, Bertly. The Academy student body has nearly quintupled in just a few years. Cordelia is creating as many red-eyed inhabitants as possible. She is building an army.”

  “An army?” Bertly shouted. “What the heavens for? The world is at peace for the most part, aside from standard, petty criminals. And even the crime rate hasn’t risen much in the past few years. What could she possibly need an army for?”

  “That is what we are going to find out. For the last few decades, on the same date each year, I receive a letter from an old friend in the Decomposite. It has been two months and I have not heard from him. He is protecting something that cannot fall into the wrong hands.” Alestar’s body tensed. “Shortly before you and Polly arrived, the Grand Elder revealed a prophecy: ‘When it is Cordelia’s time, a pureblood shall rise from mankind. An army shall render, for all life will hinder.’” Alestar took a deep breath. “Mankind hasn’t had a red-eyed host since Cordelia herself. Then you and Polly come along.”

  “Sir, you think Polly and I are the purebloods?” Bertly gasped.

  “Yes, I do. And I think the rise in red-eyed bodies is the army.” Alestar made a chirping sound and Clia started her descent. Bertly felt the air grow thicker, and a chill worked up somewhere beneath the wind. “If it is truly Cordelia’s time, then we have dark days ahead of us. The last time Cordelia came to us, she was here to end the Blight. If she is returning, then so is the Blight.”

  Bertly’s eyebrows squished together. “The Blight, sir?” His palms began to sweat, he felt nauseous. “Like when the undead roamed the planet?”