Run Over By a Unicorn
With Sela screaming in the background like a tornado-warning siren, the two young wizards went at it with their fists. Although the stranger was well trained and more muscular, Jon still managed to land blow after blow. A tall elderly wizard with a thick mane of white hair transported nearby.
“What by Solegra is going on here?” Quixoran thundered.
After the Dragon Clan wizard pulled the combatants apart, the strange kid sported a nice shiner and a bloody nose. From the way his own face stung, Jon guessed he hadn’t fared any better.
“Hello, Grandfather,” he said. “Can’t say I like your welcoming committee.”
The stranger blanched as he made the connection between Quixoran and Jon, but then his lip curled in disdain. Jon’s jaw jutted out in response. Quixoran held the young wizards apart. “I will have discipline on this island,” he said, giving them both a steely glare. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes sir,” Jon replied.
“Yes, Master Quixoran.”
Jon shot the bare-chested teen a glance. Master Quixoran? What on Yden is that all about?
“Let me see you shake hands,” the older wizard prompted.
Under Quixoran’s watchful gaze, the two young wizards exchanged a brief handshake.
“Jon Hansen of the Dragon Clan.”
“Max Lee. Unicorn Clan.”
“Max, get your injuries attended to,” Quixoran said. “We’ll postpone our morning activity until after lunch.”
Max favored his side as he loped off.
The tension broken, Quixoran beamed at Sela. “You must be my granddaughter!”
Sela hung back with an uncharacteristic case of shyness, but Jon beckoned her over. The six foot four inch tall wizard picked her up and spun her around as if she were still a toddler.
“You’re as pretty as a Tumborian songbird,” he said. “The very image of your grandmother. I want to give you a tour of my garden first, but when we return to the tree house, I’ll show you her sculpture.”
“I’ll take your stuff for you, Sela,” Jon said.
As Sela and Jon retrieved their bags, she gave her brother a sympathetic glance.
“You look terrible,” she whispered. “Do you want to transport home?”
“We’ve been here less than an hour. What do you think Mom and Dad would say if they knew I’d been in a fight already?”
“You can always tell ’em you got run over by a unicorn,” she suggested, snorting with laughter.
“You’re a riot today, Sela.”
“That kid Max flung you around like a piece of garbage.”
“Thanks.”
“And the way he dropped you with that long stick was totally cool.”
“That former stick, you mean. Now it’s kindling.”
“Your fire gimmick was nice, but when he sent you flying, it was awesome.”
Jon sighed. “I don’t know what Max is doing here, but I hope he leaves soon.” He took Sela’s bag from her. “I’ve got this. Go on and spend time with your grandfather.”
She scampered toward Quixoran. The enchanted expression on the wizard’s weathered face made Jon smile.
****
As he emerged from the garden, the beauty of the magnificent vanyean tree took Jon’s breath away. The tree dwarfed his house back home and its full waxy green leaves shone under the Yden suns like emerald beacons. A floating staircase wound its way up the trunk and into a wooden house the size of a basketball court.
Max sat on one of the bottom stairs as a middle-aged woman daubed his battered face with salve. A twinge of regret hit Jon right between the eyes.
“Sorry for burning your stick, Max.”
“It’s called a Bo and it was my father’s.”
Max launched himself off the stairs and brushed past Jon. He strode into the forest, still favoring his side. Jon frowned as he lowered his duffle and Sela’s overnight bag onto a nearby picnic table.
“What’s his problem?” he muttered.
“I believe you have wounded his pride, Jon Hansen,” the woman said. “A difficult injury to overcome when you are young.”
The woman was simply dressed, with strong bones, curly brown hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes. Although Jon had never seen her before, she seemed strangely familiar.
“Do I know you?”
A smile creased her face. “Do you not remember? We met last time you were here.”
“Cressidia?” he gasped with dawning recognition.
“Very perceptive, Jon,” she replied, pleased.
“But you’re a wood sprite — a spirit. Why didn’t you appear in human form before?”
A flock of kids barreled past just then, whooping and hollering in excitement. Five boys and one girl were loaded down with fishing nets, creels, and spears. The group headed toward the garden on their way to the ocean.
“Hey, are those the orphans liberated from Mandral’s castle?” Jon asked.
“Indeed they are. After you brought their plight to his attention, Quixoran invited the children to live here,” Cressidia said. “I took this human form to help.”
“They’re a lot noisier without the cygards around.”
Suppressing a smile, Cressidia asked Jon to sit so she could treat his cuts and bruises. He winced as she dabbed ointment on his cheekbone.
“Ugh… this stuff smells terrible.”
“The odor may be unpleasant but it helps the pain. Otherwise you’ll have trouble sleeping tonight.”
“Yeah, my ear is starting to throb,” Jon admitted. “Um… who is Max and what’s he doing here?”
“Quixoran brought Max to Dragon Isle a few weeks ago. The boy’s father was kidnapped from Yrth and drained by Efysian.”
“What?”
“Quixoran has taken Max as his apprentice. He tells me the lad might be one of the most promising apprentices he’s ever had.”
Cressidia turned away to cork the bottle of salve. Jon was relieved she couldn’t see his expression. For the second time that morning he felt as if his legs had been swept out from under him.
“Thank you, Cressidia,” he managed.
“You’re welcome. Wait here, Jon, while I fetch you a basket. I’d like you to pick an assortment of fruit from the garden.”
As Cressidia headed toward the open-air kitchen several yards off, Jon gritted his teeth against a spasm of pain unrelated to any visible injuries. Swallowing hard, he wished Cressidia had an ointment to stop the ugly green poison of jealousy spreading through his veins.
****
Jon gathered fruit from various trees until his basket was full. Afterward, he settled onto Quixoran’s sleeping dragon sculpture and whipped his sketchpad from his pocket. Because his thoughts were in turmoil, however, he ended up tapping his pencil against the paper and staring off into space. Efysian’s defeat had meant wizards could practice magic freely and young wizards would once again be able to train. Jon had eagerly anticipated the resurgence of magic on Yden.
But until now I hadn’t realized how it would feel to be left out.
Jon frowned and hunched his shoulders. Quixoran was a good judge of talent, but he hadn’t asked him to be his apprentice. What if he had been weighed and found lacking? The suspicion stung worse than an Imp bite. After his last adventure, he had felt kind of… cool for a change. Well, his pitched battle with Max had certainly revealed Jon’s shortcomings. Now that kid was cool. Max Lee was an expert with the Bo, and he’d tossed Jon around like a cow chip. Even Sela had been impressed.
“You’re Jon Hansen?”
Startled from his reverie, he glanced down to find a little gap-toothed redhead staring at him.
“Hello,” he said. “Who are you?”
“My name is Johde.”
“Hello, Johde.” He patted the dragon. “You want to come up?”
As he helped the little girl sit next to him, he winced at the red scars lingering on her bare ankles. The child had been forced to wear manacles as Warlord Mandral’s slave.
“Kira told me we should thank you for bringing us here.”
“She did? Hmmm, I don’t know about that. You should probably thank Kira and Quixoran.”
“I remember you coming to the castle before. You look different.”
He leaned down as if to confide a secret. “Yeah. I kind of got run over by a unicorn.” The little girl’s laughter was almost as sweet as the singing flowers blooming in the garden. Jon readied his sketchbook.
“Have you ever had a doll, Johde?”
Confused, she shook her head. “What’s that?”
With Johde looking on, Jon drew her the most beautiful redheaded princess doll he could imagine. In his mind’s eye, he pictured it large enough to fill the little girl’s arms. The drawing shimmered up off the page and expanded. When it solidified, the child gasped in delight. Jon plucked the doll from the air and presented it to Johde.
“She’s not quite as pretty as you are, but I bet she could use a friend.”
The rest of the kids arrived just then and he stayed busy drawing baseballs, bats, and big floating bubbles. Finally a whiff of freshly caught fish reached Jon’s nostrils. He glanced at the oldest boy, named Benn. “Say, are we having fish for lunch by any chance?”
“Yeah! We caught lots down by the shipwrecks!” A stricken expression crossed his face. “Oh, Solegra, I forgot to bring the fish to camp! Cressy’s going to splinter!”
Benn ran off with the creel bouncing against his side. Jon retrieved his own basket of fruit.
“Let’s go, kids,” he said. “The way the fish smelled, I have a feeling we’re late for lunch.”
His good mood somewhat restored, Jon led the troop back to the vanyean tree. Max was sitting in the outdoor eating area, whittling another Bo out of a long straight branch. The kids rushed over to show him their new toys. As Jon passed, Max shot him a glance that would have cut an Imp in half. Jon scowled in return.
****
After lunch, Cressidia announced she was taking the younger kids to the Waterfall Grotto to swim.
“Can we go, Jon?” Sela asked, her eyes shining with anticipation.
“That sounds awesome,” he replied. “I’ll go put on my trunks.”
“Max and I are having class this afternoon,” Quixoran said. “I thought you might like to sit in.”
Jon hesitated, torn between wanting to go to the lesson and pretending he didn’t care. Max’s arrogant smirk decided the issue.
“Okay,” Jon replied. “Thanks.”
As the kids scrambled to get ready for their swim, Sela grabbed Jon’s arm. “Make him eat your dust,” she whispered.
****
Quixoran brought Jon and Max to a cliffside open-air classroom, where thirteen huge lava rock monuments formed a large arena about thirty feet across. Carved runes and etchings of Clan symbols marked each stone.
“This is impressive,” Jon murmured. “Shades of Stonehenge.”
Fascinated, he searched until he found the Dragon Clan rectangle. As he ran his fingers over the runes, Ophelia glowed. Quixoran cleared his throat. Startled, Jon realized his grandfather was waiting for him to join the class.
“Oh, sorry.”
He hastened to take the spot next to Max, who was sitting cross-legged on the velvety grass. On the ground directly in front of Quixoran was a series of rocks in graduated sizes. The smallest was the diameter of a walnut and the largest was bigger than a bowling ball.
“Jon, we’ve been learning how to levitate these stones with magic,” Quixoran said. “Max, will you demonstrate?”
Max held out his hand and the largest rock came off the ground and floated in the air in front of him. Jon gulped.
I’m doomed.
Quixoran handed him the walnut-sized stone. “Let’s start you out with this one, Jon.”
“How am I supposed to move it?”
“You sense it, of course.”
“Oh. Right.”
Perplexed, Jon stared at the stone and then glanced at his grandfather’s expectant expression. The stone remained immobile, and as Max smirked, Jon felt his face flame with embarrassment. Determined not to fail Quixoran, he refocused his attention on the stone. He would have much rather drawn the thing than try to move it with magic. When he was a kid, an art teacher had instructed him not to draw an object, but to draw the surrounding negative space. He used to spend several minutes mentally sketching negative space before he ever put pencil to paper.
Jon closed his eyes, mentally “drew” the negative space around the stone, and then shifted it. Nothing seemed to happen. Defeated, he opened his eyes. To his amazement, the small white orb was floating in front of him.
“Ha!” he exclaimed. He grabbed for the stone but it zoomed past his hand to whack him on the forehead. “Ow!”
Max burst out laughing.
“Keep practicing, Jon,” Quixoran said, turning his attention to Max.
By the time the lesson ended, Jon had a bruised forehead to match his cheek and a volcano-sized headache. He’d managed to keep the small stone afloat for several seconds. Compared to Max, however, his efforts were a complete failure. The Unicorn Clan wizard could practically juggle all the heaviest stones.
Jon lingered after Max left.
“Um… I’m sorry, Grandfather. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Quixoran shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? You did well.”
Jon stared at his tennis shoes and shrugged.
“Look at me, Jon.”
He forced himself to meet Quixoran’s gaze.
“It can take an apprentice days, sometimes weeks, to levitate even a grain of sand.”
“Max has it down pat, and he hasn’t even been here long.”
“Max is able to harness magical forces almost as easily as you can draw or throw fire. Many wizards have some ability they are quite good at without being taught. When I was a child, my father used to get very angry at me for turning my brothers and sisters into stone.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Jon’s mouth.
“I can see where that might’ve cheesed him off.”
“Don’t be too hard on Max. You managed to save your father from Efysian, but he could do nothing to help his. I’m the closest thing he has to a father figure now. He’s bound to be a little jealous of you.”
Jon reared back. “Jealous of me? I think you’re reading him wrong.”
“Perhaps.”
“Grandfather, I—” Jon swallowed hard, fixing his gaze on a nearby monument as if the words he sought were written there. “I’d like to learn more magic. Maybe you could teach me a few things every once in a while, like we did today. I promise not to get in your way or cause any trouble.”
Jon sought affirmation in his grandfather’s eyes, but the wizard was facing away from him, toward the ocean. Bitter disappointment washed over Jon. Quixoran is trying to figure out how to let me down gently.
“You know, it’s okay, Grandfather, don’t worry about it. I’ve got school and everything. It would have been really hard...” his voice trailed off.
Quixoran finally met Jon’s gaze, his expression a mixture of pride and joy.
“I have waited for this moment for a long time. Your parents wanted you to come to me when you were ready. It would truly be my honor, Jon, to teach you everything I know. I daresay I can learn from you as well.”
Jon’s throat closed up, and he was embarrassed to discover moisture at the corners of his eyes. “There must be pollen in the air or something,” he said, wiping his eyes on his shirt.
Quixoran pulled him into a hug.