Scott Meyer - Spell or High Water

By Scott Meyer

Magic 2.0 series

Off to Be the Wizard

Spell or High Water

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright 2014 Scott Meyer

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwi se, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by 47North, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its a ffiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781477823484

ISBN-10: 1477823484

Cover design by inkd

Illustrated by Eric Constantino

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014930081

CONTENTS

The following is intended to be a fun, comedic sci-fi/fantasy novel. Any similarity between the events described and how reality actually works is purely coincidental.

It was a normal evening at the inn called The Rotted Stump. Outside , the sun was setting and the town was getting quiet. Inside, candles were burning and the patrons were getting loud.

Martin materialized across the street. He marveled at how quickly people get used to things. Here he was, a grown man in a shiny silver robe and pointed hat, coalescing out of thin air, brandishing a staff with a bust of a masked Mexican wrestler at its peak, and nobody, not the medieval peasants nor he himself, found it odd.

A passerby said a polite hello as he stepped around Martin. Martin returned the greeting, and started across the street. Three months ago Martin was a twenty-three-year-old data entry drone in Seattle who poked around in corporate computer systems in his spare time. Two months ago, through a series of events that barely made sense to him, even though hed lived through them, he found himself at this very inn, in the year 1150, trying to pass himself off as a wizard. About a month ago, with quite a bit of help, hed passed his training as a wizard, and now Martin was about to meet his very first trainee.

It wasnt a huge surprise that the new trainee would turn up here at The Rotted Stump. When fleeing back in time, logic dictated that you use a geological landmark as a landing zone, and if youre going to England, you cant do much better than the Cliffs of Dover. The road nearest to the cliffs led to this town, Leadchurch, and the inn was the first public establishment you found if you followed the road. It was more surprising that Martin had been called to go meet the new arrival.

Martin was in his workshop when he got the call from Phillip . Word had come that a stranger had arrived claiming to have magical powers. Someone would have to look into it. Phillip was mu ch closer, but part of his new job as chairman of the wizards council was to delegate work to others, and in most cases others meant Martin. Besides, the new wizard was at the exact same inn where Phillip had found Martin, just two months ago. Phillip said he liked the symmetry of sending Martin as the welcoming committee.

Martin jumped at the chance. Almost since the day he started training, he had looked forward to training someone himself. Martins training had been a humiliating series of mind games, confusing revelations, and immature practical jokes. He had found much of it profoundly unpleasant, and he wanted a trainee of his own. It would be his chance to take all of those miserable experiences and inflict them on someone else, instead of absorbing them himself.

Martin paused before he entered the inn. He remembered the night two months ago when hed arrived, hungry and more than a little scared. He had introduced himself to the patrons, and proceeded to demonstrate his powers by transforming himself into a laughingstock. Eventually Phillip had challenged him to a duel and blasted him into the woods, where hed hit his head on a tree and passed out. He smiled at the thought of having the upper hand for once as he entered the inn.

It was a warm, crowded room with exposed wooden beams. Candles and the sunset filtering through the windows were the only sources of light, which sounded more romantic than it looked. Indeed, not even romance itself would look romantic if it was being seen in The Rotted Stump.

Martin scanned the room. It was a busy night. Strong men were drinking strong drinks and using strong language. He was looking for a youngish man (like himself) who seemed out of place (like he did) and was most likely in deep trouble (which he had been). As he peered into the murk, he heard a deep, booming voice shout, Martin the Magnificent!

Martin tried not to cringe. One of his first acts upon arriving in Medieval England was to give himself that nickname, and as with all self-bestowed nicknames, it had been an awful mistake that now haunted him. Pete, the owner of The Rotted Stump, and whose absent right forearm gave the inn its name, got up from a raucous table in the corner and came to meet Martin, smiling broadly.

Martin, good to see you, lad. Phillip couldnt make it? Pete asked, patting Martin on the shoulder.

Yeah, hes busy, so he sent me instead. Is there a problem, Pete?

No problem at all, Pete replied. Just a new wizard in town, is all. He showed up dressed in strange clothes. I sent the boy to go fetch Phillip right away. I neednt have hurried though, he seems to be all right. Hes already getting on much better than the last wizard that turned up.

Martin scowled. I was the last wizard that turned up.

Petes smile didnt even flicker. Aye. He walked up to me, and asked if I was in charge. I said I was, and he asks what we have to drink. I point to the beer barrel. He looks at it and says, Thatll do. Hes been back there drinking and talking ever since.

Has he offended anyone? Martin asked.

No, he fits right in. I think Gerts sweet on him. Come ere, Ill introduce you.

As he crossed the room, Martin was able to pick the new wizard out of the group right away. It was his hair that set him apart. It was a fallacy that every man in medieval times had a flowing mane. There were a variety of hairstyles available to the stylish medieval male, but a perfectly trimmed, flat-top buzz cut was not one of them. Martin guessed that the new wizard was in his mid-fifties. Beneath his iron-gray military-grade haircut he had dark, severe eyebrows and a perfectly trimmed moustache . He was wearing a flimsy white dress shirt and a thin black necktie . Instead of a wizards robe, he wore a tan trench coat. Martin kicked himself for having not thought of that himself. It seemed as if a dim bar was the new wizards natural habitat, even if it was a dim bar in the Middle Ages.

Pete cleared his throat, and all conversation at the table stopped. The new wizard looked straight at Martin, making eye contact immediately. Gert sat next to the new wizard, towering over him like a slightly feminine oak tree. She had been smiling down at him, but when she looked at Martin, her smile turned effortlessly into a snarl. She liked Martin all right, but she already knew that she liked this new guy more, and she wanted Martin to know it as well.

Pete gestured toward the new wizard with his hand and said, Martin, Id like you to meet Roy. Roy, this is Martin.

Roy looked at Martin for a moment, then said, Oh, yes, the apprentice. Your teacher couldnt make it?

When Martin had arrived in this time, he had known next to nothing. He hadnt known that there were other wizards with the same kinds of powers that he had, that the other wizards were time travelers from the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, like he was, or that there was a training and orientation program in place for newly arrived wizards. Not knowing these things, he had made many mistakes. Clearly, the locals had already told this guy Roy all about the wizards and the training. They probably had told him about Martins arrival, and from that Roy could have figured out that the other wizards were probably time travelers , like he was.