Rise of the Sciencemancer

Ch. 2 Walking to School

“Look out below!” came a cruel voice from above.

George looked up just in time to see a globe of liquid water, the size of a ripe melon, fall from the sky and strike the boy walking in front of him. Upon striking its target, the watery missile burst, drenching the boy. Chortles and guffaws came from above.

George glared at the aerial tormentors who had cast the spell that had created and launched the watery attack. Two older students from the Magic College of Praxis stood on a flying carpet some fifty feet above the line of Hopeful Candidates walking the road uphill to the magnificent Praxis Campus. The buildings of the campus, many of them made, either wholly or partially, of a magically grown crystal, glittered like diamonds in the distance.

What George and the other Hopeful Candidates were doing that morning was an annual ceremonial humiliation. Each year, on Entrance Exam Day, a procession of Hopeful Candidates would walk to school, only to be harassed by the upperclassmen. Striking back was forbidden by the victims. They were required to endure this indignity as a sign of their toughness.

Of course, officially, according to the College, the harassment was not to rise above the level of light pranking. Upperclassmen who went too far in their pranks could face censure, suspension, or even, theoretically, expulsion if a Hopeful Candidate were, in any way, permanently injured during their walk to campus on the morning of Entrance Exam Day. Another motivation for the pranksters to not go too far in their hazing was that, in order to attend the College of Praxis, all Hopeful Candidates had to come from, or be sponsored by, powerful noble families. Any upperclassmen who strayed too far from what was culturally considered normal pranking could be subject to retribution from vengeful relatives or allies of their target.

George glanced at the boy who had been soaked, who was now swearing and wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. His scowl mirrored George’s own feelings. But there was nothing to be done except keep walking. That was the rule—an unspoken agreement baked into the long-standing customs of Praxis. Part of the so-called “rite of passage.”

Nevertheless, whether the upperclassmen practiced restraint or recognized any kind of limits on their behavior or not, George found the whole ritual repugnant. The Society of Sorcerers Born ruled over lands steeped in honored and honorable tradition. Be that as it may, George didn’t think this annual ritual humiliation represented anything honorable.

After Hopeful Candidates were accepted into the school, they were no longer required to walk there. Starting the day after a student passed the Entrance Exam and wasn’t a Hopeful Candidate anymore, every student who possibly could, unless they woke up already there each day because they lived in campus housing, found a way to transport themselves to school without walking. Some rode flying carpets like the one floating over the line of Hopeful Candidates tossing water globes that morning. Some rode flying brooms. Some wore rings of flying. Some used one-shot, short term flying spells that would last just long enough to get them to school. Looking up and scanning the air above him, George could see a couple of students with a family resemblance that made them look like brother and sister riding a pegasus that was adorned at the base of its neck with the crest emblem of a powerful noble family.

The only form of transportation that wasn’t allowed for getting oneself to school was teleporting or plane shifting, as the school was well-warded against such intrusions for security reasons.

“What are you looking at?”

George had made the mistake of looking at the two water-tossing bullies riding the flying carpet a bit too long, and had probably allowed his disgust at the whole hazing ritual to show on his face. Now, he would be the next target. George lowered his head, bracing himself. He resolved to take what was going to come without making it any worse, though what he heard coming from above didn’t sound good.

“No, man! Don’t do that! It’s not worth it! You’ll get us both in trouble! He’s probably the kid of someone important.” Apparently, one of the two bullies wasn’t necessarily nicer than the other, but was more conservative and less hot-headed than his companion.

The more reckless of the youths wasn’t going to listen to any advice about restraint, however. “Did you see the way that little prick looked at us? Who does he think he is? Someone needs to show him his proper place.”

The globe of liquid that splashed itself on George wasn’t a globe of water. It was a globe of urine. The stench overwhelmed George. When he thought it was safe to open his eyes without getting urine in them, he saw the flying carpet flying on ahead so its occupants could bother other Hopeful Candidates. Then, George’s heart swelled with gratitude for his parents’ gift to him, for it had not been cheap, though his mother had enchanted it herself in her workshop. George’s outfit made a fluttering sound as it rustled of its own accord. Every drop and spot of filth on it flew off as the fabric magically restored itself to its pristine condition.

“Hey!” a student walking next to him exclaimed as some of the nasty substance flung from George’s attire splattered on him. “Oh, great! This one’s got self-cleaning clothes. Must be nice!”

George gave the boy an apologetic look but said nothing. The truth was, he felt lucky—and more than a little embarrassed—to be seen as privileged. In that moment, the gift from his parents separated him from the others in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable. But he wasn’t going to apologize for the generosity of his mother. She had crafted the enchantment herself, weaving pride and hope into every stitch.

Once on campus, George could take care of his face and hair in a washroom. Then, he’d be good as new. In the meantime, he plodded on, wondering what else this day had in store for him. The hazing ritual was over, once and for all. It only happened once in a student’s life and everyone went through it. It was behind him now.

Around him, the other Hopefuls were quiet. Maybe some were humiliated. Maybe some were plotting their revenge. But George felt oddly clear-headed. No illusions remained about what Praxis was. If he made it in, he would rise in a system full of posturing and power games. But if he didn’t? Well… that was the real question, wasn’t it?

If that was the worst thing that happened to him all day, he thought it would be a pretty good day. After all, his new life was just beginning. His attitude was optimistic. George felt that he stood at the threshold of a thousand possibilities, and all of them good.

He adjusted the strap of his satchel and kept climbing the long, gleaming road, heart pounding in time with the echoes of his footsteps on the crystal tiles.