Fantastic Schools, Volume 3 Read online

  The unicorn didn’t answer, but he did whoosh into wind and blow around her, then return to her side and nudge her with his nose.

  “I don’t understand,” Mildred said, feeling foolish. “What are you trying to say?”

  The unicorn snorted in evident exasperation.

  “Can you show me?”

  The unicorn vanished into a gust of wind, then returned.

  “Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I’ve heard of that! It’s called wind-walking! Is it something unicorns do?”

  He snorted and shook his mane. Mildred could tell he didn’t understand her words and was getting impatient.

  She inhaled nervously and patted the front of her dress. Her familiar talisman lay underneath, displaying its gentle relative to the dangerous karkadann that much nastier and therefore more socially acceptable students at Black Magic Academy sometimes received.

  “You want me to wind-walk, don’t you?” she whispered.

  She’d never tried to use her familiar for anything. Her aunts had always made her feel ashamed of being quiet and kind instead of vicious and vengeful.

  But here . . . here was someone who was just like her and who valued that about her.

  Okay, Mildred thought, swallowing. I’ll try it.

  She focused on the magic of her talisman, telling it to lend her the magic of the creature that symbolized who she was inside, and pulled it forward, focusing on what she had just seen the unicorn do.

  She blew into a wind that circled the unicorn, gusting his mane and tail through the air.

  Mildred staggered as her legs formed again, laughing giddily. She loved that! She hated flying on a broomstick—she got airsick—but with no stomach to get queasy, no bristles to grip with sore and sweaty fingers, and no wooden stick to dig into her rear while she tried to balance on it, blowing through the wind was a pure pleasure.

  It felt like joy.

  It felt like freedom.

  The unicorn blew around her again and then reformed next to her, swishing his tail to hit her arm. He still seemed quite impatient.

  Mildred grinned. Okay! I don’t know where we’re going, but I’ll trust you.

  She joined with the wind, as did he, and he blew to the south, towards Sukanil. She followed close in his wake, swishing through branches and sending leaves spiraling every which way.

  As they neared the southern edge of the forest, moving as fast as any witch on a broomstick could, the unicorn reappeared and trotted forward, absently touching spindly branches and cracked roots with the tip of his horn. The drought-damaged trees immediately started budding forth fresh green leaves.

  Mildred dropped out of wind-walking, too, examining the trees with interest without touching. She didn’t know some of these species, and she had long since learned from Aunt Anklistine that touching unknown trees in the Forest Beyond was just asking for a cauldron full of trouble.

  “Ah, there you are,” said a woman’s voice.

  Mildred’s head shot up in alarm. A stranger in a purple dress, wearing a matching set of armbands, was stroking the unicorn’s nose while he nuzzled at a bag by her side, clearly expecting a treat.

  Traitor! Mildred thought furiously.

  “You’re Drakin’s daughter, right?” the woman said, pulling a handful of velvety red flower petals out of her bag and holding them out. The unicorn gobbled them down. “I heard a rumor you got expelled, but nobody seemed to know why. Your classwork was excellent; you’d made plenty of enemies; and your familiar was a karkadann. There seemed to be no reason why Black Magic Academy would expel you. Unless, of course . . . your familiar wasn’t what it seemed.”

  Mildred swallowed. She thought about fleeing, but the unicorn was clearly the woman’s friend, and he was far more experienced at wind-walking than she was.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  “I want you to come to my school,” the woman said, shutting her bag. The unicorn butted his nose against her arm aggressively, clearly upset about this. “I’m High Witch Dal of the Sukanil School of Magical Studies. I think you’d be an asset.”

  “No!” Mildred burst out, shaking her head. “I’m done with school! I’m done with competing! I’m done with making enemies! I’m done with all of it! I just want to be left alone!”

  “And your school isn’t going to cure her of any of that irritating meekness,” Aunt Anklistine’s voice said from above. An instant later, she landed between them, catching her broomstick as it fell. Earth witches couldn’t be injured by falling. “Hello, Dal. When Mildred mentioned a unicorn, I wondered if that meant you were sneaking around. That pet of yours is very fond of windberries.”

  “He is a bit of a pig,” the woman said amiably, patting his nose.

  “Mildred is not,” Aunt Anklistine said emphatically, “going to your school.”

  “Shouldn’t that be her decision?”

  “Your school teaches nothing but useless white magic!”

  “We also teach black magic. We’re not as prejudiced as your alma mater is. We see the value in understanding everything.”

  “You barely teach black magic!”

  “It’s barely of value,” High Witch Dal said calmly. She looked over at Mildred. “I think you’ll find that if you want to survive in witch society—and I do mean that literally—you’re going to need an education. By all accounts, your death-enemy is one of the most powerful witches of your generation. It would be wise to learn how to defend yourself, in case she comes after you after she graduates.”

  Mildred swallowed. That was true.

  “Yes, and your school is hardly known for its Deadly Spells classes.” Aunt Anklistine folded her arms. “Go away, Dal.”

  “Not until she answers.” High Witch Dal folded her arms, too.

  Mildred took a deep breath and stepped hesitantly forward. If the High Witch of the school had a unicorn for a pet, the school couldn’t be so bad. And anywhere would be better than Black Magic Academy. If she needed to learn to defend herself, she may as well go. “Well . . .”

  Aunt Anklistine’s cloak billowed outward, and a massive snake lunged from behind her, stopping with its fangs posed right beside High Witch Dal’s neck. The snake seemed to be attached to Aunt Anklistine’s lower back, like some kind of tail.

  “My familiar is a chimera,” Aunt Anklistine said sharply. “These fangs are poisonous. I’m sure you think your unicorn can cure any poison, but trust me: I’m fast with this tail. I’ll kill it before it tries. Now leave. Now.”

  No! Mildred slammed her hand against her aunt’s back, using the same spell that she used to vacuum-seal ingredients for winter. Aunt Anklistine clutched her throat, air gone from her lungs, and High Witch Dal spun out of her reach and hopped up on the unicorn’s back, which held his horn posed against her aunt’s heart.

  There was silence for a moment. Then Aunt Anklistine turned her head to look at Mildred. There was a faint smirk on her lips. “So you’ve finally learned to do something useful.”

  “Don’t threaten other people!” Mildred said heatedly.

  “And you’re finally showing some vague resemblance to a fighting spirit,” Aunt Anklistine said with satisfaction. “It’s about time. All right, Dal. I’ll tell you what. You can take her as a student—as long as she’s required to take every single class on black magic you offer.”

  “Deal,” High Witch Dal said immediately.

  Mildred’s face screwed up. “I don’t want—”

  “I don’t care,” Aunt Anklistine said snidely. “Do you want to go or don’t you?”

  “Yesssss . . .”

  “Fine.” Aunt Anklistine tossed her broom off to the side, where it hovered. She sat on it, holding on to the bristles with only one hand. “I’ll go get Lilith and Hurda, and we’ll figure out what background story and assumed name you’ll need to use. Obviously, you can’t go as yourself, or you’ll be a target for assassins from Black Magic Academy. The two of you, stay put unless you want me coating the fores
t with inside-out poison to find you. Because if you make me, I will.”

  Mildred shuddered. Why did Aunt Anklistine’s threats always have to be so gruesome?

  She watched her aunt fly up above the trees and head back the direction they’d come.

  “So how many black magic classes am I going to have to take?” Mildred asked, resigned.

  “Zero.”

  Mildred blinked and looked over at her.

  “Joke’s on her,” High Witch Dal said casually. “We don’t offer any classes specifically on black magic at the Sukanil School of Magical Studies. Students are allowed to study it if they must, but we don’t go out of our way to teach it.”

  Mildred was startled.

  The High Witch folded her arms and smirked.

  Mildred spurted out a laugh and stroked the unicorn on the nose as he bumped the side of his head against her.

  She was going to like this school.

  Emily Martha Sorensen writes clean fantasy adventures with clever characters, fun plots, and lots of humor. She thinks the world needs more happiness and laughter, so she goes out of her way to create stories about them.

  Probably her best books to start with are Black Magic Academy, which is about a good witch who gets sent to a school for wicked witches; The Keeper and the Rulership, in which forbidden magic may be the key to building a new magic system; and Aquarius, about a married couple fighting to conquer a terrible curse.

  She also has two webcomics: A Magical Roommate, which is complete, and To Prevent World Peace, which is currently updating.

  You can learn more about her here: http://www.emilymarthasorensen.com

  Summoned

  by Jay Barnson

  Virtual Reality can seem almost magical in its ability to seemingly transport a user to another world. For Ethan, it seems like a fun escape from his lonely life in upstate New York. However, when he tries an exclusive game called "Nyrlim Magic Academy," the technology seems too good to be true. Is he really just playing a game, or is there something else happening in this virtual world of magic and conspiracies?

  Summoned

  Ethan willed his feet up each step of the stairway to his second-floor apartment. The threadbare dirt-colored carpeting barely padded his heavy steps. Ten hours of JavaScript debugging had never exhausted him like it did now, in the year of the pandemic. He hated being isolated in a near-empty office manned by a mask-wearing skeleton crew. He hated being isolated in his empty apartment just as much. While he had never been gregarious, he missed being able to talk to people face-to-face without a mask or a computer screen in the way.

  Three years ago, he thought his life was finally about to begin. He had graduated a semester early with hardly any student debt and had landed a decent programming job upstate in a town that was neither too big nor too small. He’d even found a small apartment of his own without the kinds of useless roommates he’d spent his college life dealing with. Now he missed those guys, with their stupid habits and their weekends of alcoholic excess. Anything was better than returning to an empty apartment in a world afraid to socialize.

  He slow-yanked himself up the last step by pulling on the metal railing, risking tetanus from the painted-over rust. It was an old habit, especially when he was tired, but the bit of whole-body exertion woke him up a little. He rounded the corner and spotted the package in front of the door. The brown box was over two feet long, about 18 inches wide and deep. Ethan did most of his non-food shopping online, so packages at his front door were a regular sight, but he’d ordered nothing recently. Certainly he would have remembered something this large.

  Ethan unlocked and opened the door to his dark, chilly apartment. He brought the box inside, finding it surprisingly light for its size. He switched on the lights with his elbow and closed the door with his foot as he examined the box. The return address label was unfamiliar.

  He set it on the floor of his barely furnished living room, and opened the package. It contained yet another box, this one a sleek gray box emblazoned with the glossy but otherwise unassuming “Klendistone” logo.

  Now he remembered. He’d considered canceling his order several times over the year, as the boutique company had failed repeatedly to ship what once promised to be a massive leap in Virtual Reality technology. He’d held out, mainly because he’d been too busy to make the effort. They’d sent him a questionnaire two months ago to see if he qualified for beta access to the software with the first batch of hardware. He didn’t remember hearing back from them, but he’d received a few emails from them over the last year apologizing for delays, and he could have ignored a shipping confirmation.

  Ethan glanced over at the clock on the microwave. He’d come home late, but there was still time to set up the hardware and try out one of the promised virtual worlds. Right now, the idea of visiting any place but here sounded too good to be true.

  Thirty minutes later, he’d finished setting up the system and making sure his meager furnishings were moved out of the way. He strapped the Velcro bands to ankles and the strange controllers over his hands, lowered the headset over his eyes, and switched on the power. After going through some exercises to calibrate his body and the room, the system gave him a virtual tour of the equipment, and then offered him a chance to try a VR web-store or an exclusive pre-loaded title called “Nyrlim Magic Academy.”

  If Ethan had received one of the very first units shipped, he’d be one of the first people outside the company to play their exclusive game. He had low expectations, as he doubted the tiny company could have had much money to pour into developing the title and the hardware. Still, it would be fun to check out a game that hardly anyone else had played yet. He’d grown up with fantasy stories dealing with special schools for people with supernatural abilities, and a VR game about a magic school sounded fun.

  The game opened with him standing in the courtyard of a stereotypical castle-like structure. The graphics would have been unimpressive on the latest game console, but the feeling of immersion more than made up for it. A gentle breeze wiggled the grass in polygonal uniformity, but it was enough that he could almost feel the wind on his skin. The morning sun peeking over the castle walls might err on the side of cartoonish rather than realistic, but it was still thrilling. His feet moved a little strangely but still followed his movements, and his hands and fingers seemed to move perfectly. Besides hand movements, the buttons on the controllers provided additional input.

  A woman materialized in an explosion of particle effects, wearing a skintight black dress that defied the laws of physics as it clung to the curves of her skin. Her black-peaked hat completed the image of a “sexy witch’s costume” for a Halloween party. Her glassy eyes turned to him without focusing.

  “Welcome to Nyrlim Academy,” she said in a sultry voice. Her mouth movements did not synchronize perfectly with her voice. “I am Vera, and I will teach you the basics so you may excel in your training at the Academy to master the magical arts!”

  The effect was in some ways laughable, and her narration of the tutorial sounded like community theater, but after fifteen minutes he’d performed basic tasks like moving around the courtyard, picking up objects and moving objects with his virtual hands, and using the in-game interface.

  “We were told you have considerable control over a handful of top-tier spells already,” Vera said with exaggerated gravity. “Show me what you can do, and we at the academy will teach you to build upon them.”

  With that, she gave instructions to cast five spells. They involved pressing a button, moving the hands a particular way, and speaking three or four nonsense syllables. The first spell created a ball of fire, which he threw at a straw target dummy nailed to a post. It erupted into flames so impressive he could almost feel the heat. A tiny text message appeared at the edge of his vision: “Aptitude registered.”

  Next was a magical shield which he used to deflect some dart-like magical attacks that Vera shot at him. Once again, he saw the “Aptitude registered” mes
sage. Next came a spell to move weights at a distance. After moving the heaviest of the weights, he received the message again. The fourth spell weakened or erased an existing magical spell. Vera tested him by creating an illusionary monster and having him dispel it. The movements felt natural to him, and he succeeded on his first try.

  The final spell was conspicuously unnamed by Vera. “This is a defensive spell that should be used with great care, but it is the most powerful spell in your arsenal. Be warned that if you use it more than once, it will be much weaker until you have fully rested.”

  She demonstrated the words and hand motions to cast it. He followed the instructions as the others, but nothing happened to the replacement targeting dummy. The “Aptitude registered” message came up, just as with all the other spells, but nothing else happened—no special effects, no sounds, nothing.

  After his third try, Vera said, “Excellent! You have demonstrated your potential, and I know you will excel here at Nyrlim Magic Academy. Proceed through the doors, and you will be guided to the dormitories. I expect to see great things from you, wizard.”

  The double doors she indicated remained closed.

  Ethan sighed and spoke aloud. “Thanks a lot, Vera. It looks like your game is buggy right from the get-go.”

  “I do not think you are casting the spell correctly,” Vera replied.

  “I’m not casting a spell, I’m complaining about your buggy game.”

  “I do not think you are casting the spell correctly.”

  “So much for this,” Ethan muttered to himself.

  “I do not think you are casting…”