The megaphone person keeps shouting at us.

“I mean dismount, drop your weapons, and surrender!”

“I think they get the point Master Delran,” says another cloaked figure, “if you could just shut up now and spare us all the embarrassment of your twisted tongue, maybe they won't be confused out of their minds.”

I stare at the floating figures stunned. Some of the surrounding figures' hands begin to glow ominously. Okay, they have attack magic, we are also surrounded. Not good odds. I elbow Briareth, who immediately gets off Myrddin and drops his weapons. I unhook a rapier I had been given by one of our escorts before we headed out, and drop two throwing knives as well. What is going on? I don’t think Dwarves can fly now, and they certainly don’t have magic.

Two of the floating figures come down to collect the weapons on the ground, confirming my suspicions, they’re too tall to be Dwarves. Another one of our attackers sends red tendrils of magic our direction. They pass through me harmlessly, but Briareth yelps as one reaches his boots. I watch curiously as he hops around on one foot trying to get the offending item off. When he does, it’s obvious what set off the magical alarm; a knife falls out of his boot. Briareth curses under his breath.

“Briareth.” I mutter to him. “Who are these guys?” I can’t hear his mumbled reply, “What did you say?” I ask, letting my voice get a little too loud.

“No talking!” shouts the overexcited figure with the megaphone. I shut up fast. Magic is powerful, and if all these people can wield it, which is highly likely based on the fact that they are all floating, each and every one of them is dangerous.

Many of the figures land, including the megaphone figure, but two remain in the sky. They have both tossed back their hoods, and one is scolding the other harshly.

“Gaelin Shatoris! How many times have I had to reproach you for scrimping on the details!? If you want a major in illusions you can’t scrimp on anything! I have half a mind to throw you out of my class for this.”

“Please don’t Master Edraele, I promise I’ll make it up to you! I’ll do any extra-credit work you want, just don’t kick me out!” Pleads the other figure.

“Why shouldn’t I? Your lack of attention to your work has led to a breach in our security! You don’t deserve to be in the advanced placement class, what if they are Dwarves? Then you have given away our location to their armies!”

“I didn’t mean to! I forgot about it, it could have happened to anyone!”

“But it happened to a student of mine. I’m severely disappointed in you Gaelin, I’ll be sending a note to your parents, and if you get anything less than an A on any of your assignments, you’ll go back down to the advanced honors classes.”

The younger figure looks immensely relieved, “Thank you so much Master Edraele, I promise I won’t let you down again.”

Briareth, Myrddin, and I are herded onwards towards the stone building by the cloaked figure with the megaphone. I desperately try to make sense of what I have just heard. Advanced placement and advanced honors classes? Extra-credit? Majors and Masters? Is this a school? Then why would the figure being scolded address the other as Master? What sort of school keeps up classwork in a warzone? Maybe they are all using code? They said they thought we might be Dwarves, so they are Elves. But why are they suspicious? Our height should be obvious.

I glance at Briareth, he seems to know more about this than he can tell me. He was the one who brought us here after all, even if it was slightly by mistake. Maybe it is his height that confused them? He glances around the area, not noticing my attention. He smiles softly, and mutters “Master, ay? So familiar, but where was it..Oh!” But before he can explain to me whatever he figured out, the figure with the megaphone bonks him on the back of the head for talking, using a staff that I hadn’t noticed earlier. I really am starting to dislike that person.

We continue forward, passing over a small bridge spanning a moat. A portcullis on the outside of the stone building opens when one of the cloaked figures mutters a few words in an undertone. I watch as it slides silently upwards, then the same cloaked figure knocks softly three times on the weathered, wooden, double doors behind the portcullis with a staff of his own. The end of the staff glows blue, and the doors swing open, revealing not stone floors as I expected, but a stone tunnel, and behind it an open field with a few stone buildings dotted around it. I see other cloaked figures, many with their hoods down, making their way across the grounds.

We pass through the tunnel, and when we emerge onto the grounds I look upwards expecting to see blue sky. Instead I see a fancy building that is built like a three layered cake. The wide first layer, smaller second layer, and a tiny watchtower on top. These buildings are only connected to the compound that it floats within by four roads leading to it from the top of the walls. This all feels very surreal. Flying people I can deal with. Fancy floating buildings with a tower on the top? That's a lot harder to swallow. The amount of magical power needed to get the buildings up there, leaving out the amount required daily to keep whatever spell holds them in place from failing, is ludicrous. Could all this be a strange, extended dream? Could I really just be back in my cell in the Dwarven prison? Or still in Smay’s Poppy fields? Unlikely, but it would explain the ridiculousness of everything since then.

We cross the open field, and many of the other cloaked figures gawk at our strange group. A bunch of serious looking people, one sorry looking person, two strangers, and a horse, walking towards the floating buildings.

“Gaelin!” Calls one of the watchers merrily, “What have you done now?!”

“He compromised security!” Shouts back one of our guards, the watcher steps back in shock, and Gaelin looks down, ashamed.

Eventually we arrive beneath the floating buildings. I don’t quite understand why they took us here, perhaps there is a way to get up to the buildings from here. The one in the front who opened the door holds up a hand to stop the party.

“The two intruders and Mr. Shatoris shall come with me, the rest of you disperse as you will. Except for Master Edraele, you take the horse to the stables and the weapons to storage.” This is met with head nods all around, Gaelin stares at his feet some more. I glance towards Briareth, he is grinning widely now. I’m not sure what he finds amusing about our situation, but I’m certainly not seeing it.

I frown and turn to the cloaked figure who, now that everyone has obeyed his directives and scattered to separate areas, taps his staff thrice on the ground. I stumble a bit as we start going upwards. Briareth grabs my arm as we start going faster and faster, soon we are rocketing through the air at an insane pace. I’m struggling to keep my balance on the platform and without Briareth’s help, I would have fallen to my knees ages ago.

Thoughts rush through my brain. What is going on? Why are we flying? Did the cloaked figure just cast a spell? I look up and immediately regret it. We are shooting straight at the bottom of the buildings. We’re going to get squished!

I glance at Briareth hoping for some sort of reassurance. He is grinning madly, not reassuring at all. “This is my favorite part.” He shouts to me. I stare at him, an illogical thought lodged in my brain. He’s been squished before? I probably should have looked to the one controlling this mad carnival ride for reassurance. He is way more likely to be sensible than Briareth. Anyone is more likely to be sensible than Briareth.

I look towards him. His hood has been blown off by the wind of our propulsion. His light brown hair whips about his face that is creased with a frown of concentration. He waves his hand in a circular gesture, then cuts the circle in half mumbling something. I hear a rumble from above, and cast another worried glance upwards. The bottom of the building is splitting in two, drawing away from itself, and revealing a hollow. I look back at the cloaked figure, is this where we are going? His frown deepens, I guess not. He reverses the circle and cuts it twice this time, his voice drops so low that I can’t even tell he is mumbling. The only indicator that he is actually saying anything, is his lips which are moving back and forth rapidly.

I sigh in relief as we pass through the first doors and he taps his staff twice on the platform, slowing us down. We come to a stop inside the second hollow, and the (doors?) shut behind us, then we land on them. I’m not sure that is wise, won’t our platform fall on the next person who tries to come up the same way? I don’t point this out to our captor though.

Gaelin and the cloaked figure disembark, and Briareth and I follow. The cloaked figure leads the way to a small hallway, then to some circular staircases, then to another hallway. This pattern repeats for a while. I try to keep an idea of where we are in relation to the rest of the compound in case Brareth and I need to make a quick escape, but it is rather hard. I suspect some of the windows we pass are enchanted to show different parts of the compound. Otherwise this layout is impossible. Unfortunately for my escape plans, I can’t tell which ones are fake and which ones might be real.

We finally reach the end of the hallway, and the unnamed cloaked figure knocks twice. I wonder if that number holds some sort of special significance, everything else seems to.

“Enter!” Calls a voice. The door swings open, and the cloaked figure leads the way inside.

Briareth goes ahead of me, and practically bounces inside, calling “Hiya, HeadMaster Haulding!”

I come in behind him, less enthusiastically. look inside, and see a small room lit by a window behind the desk in front of us. The room has some pretty wall hangings in geometric colors, the aforestated desk, some awards scattered around whose titles I can’t make out, and a swivel chair. It isn’t immediately apparent who called us to enter, but then the chair spins around revealing an auburn-haired male elf with an amused smile. He is wearing a floral T-shirt, an emerald green cloak, and a fedora.

“Briareth Herbalar, whatever have you done this time?” It is quite obvious that they know each other, and equally obvious that I’m missing a key factor here.

“What have I done? What have you done? What are you wearing?”

“Sorry about this, it’s Casual Friday. A pet social experiment of mine, can’t say it’s taking off, sadly.” He snaps and his shirt turns into a mirror of the sky outside the window behind him. I even see a bird that flies behind him become featured for a couple of seconds on his shirt. He looks down at it and sighs. “Hmm, no not this either. You are in trouble after all.” Then he snaps his fingers again, and his shirt changes to a business suit.

“Now what exactly are you in trouble for?”

“Oh, just breaking and entering.” Briareth responds blithely.

“Not exactly,” butts in the cloaked figure. “They destroyed the illusions on the outside perimeter. Mr. Shatoris here had left a bit incomplete. You know this intruder, HeadMaster?”

“Oh yes, Briareth is an old student. A bit before your time Siraye, he came here thirty years ago. That is if he actually is Briareth.” Okay, this is definitely a school. It has students and headmasters. How come Briareth was a student here though? I didn’t realize that King’s Archers went to magic school as part of their curriculum.

“What?! Of course I’m Briareth! Why would you think otherwise? I’m hurt HeadMaster Haulding.”

“Sorry Briareth, one can never tell with disguise spells these days. I would think that being captured would make it only amount to an attempted breaking and entering.”

“Well I didn’t exactly break anything, that would be the fault of Faladel Mithrandir here.” the HeadMasters eyes widen at this. He sends a searching glance in my direction. I make eye contact and offer a small smile, but remain silent. I hope we won’t die. That sort of ending is seeming less and less likely, but if they think we are imposters… My thoughts trail off. The HeadMaster’s eyes flicker back to Briareth as he continues. “The entering, well that isn’t our fault. We were just wandering around outside, when this fine gentleman and his posse of followers showed up and arrested us. Then we entered, even though I wasn’t supposed to come back here after finishing my training.”

“Are you sure this is Faladel Mithrandir?” The HeadMaster asks.

“I’m more sure of him than you are of me.” Briareth frowns at him.

“Sure enough that you forgot to check his identity with a spell?”

“Well, I found him as an Elf in a Dwarven prison, when I myself was looking like a fellow prisoner. Why would he have to disguise himself from Dwarves as an Elf?” Briareth tries to explain fidgeting nervously under the HeadMaster’s stare.

“But you didn't actually check his identity.” HeadMaster Haulding presses.

“Well…” Briareth sighs. “Yes, I didn’t find it necessary at the time. Also, that action would have given away my identity. So it’s actually better that I didn’t check?” Briareth desperately tries to excuse his actions.

At this point I break in. “I still figured out who you were anyway.”

Briareth glares at me. “Who’s side are you on Faladel?”

“I didn’t know there were sides. I just want to make sure you give an accurate rendition of our journey.”

“Hmmpf.” Briareth remains unimpressed with my commentary. “So what’s the verdict HeadMaster?”

“Well…” The HeadMaster shifts in his seat, and leans forward, putting his arms on the tabletop, fingers folded under his chin. “Firstly we must confirm both of your identities. After that, I can debrief you on the situation here. Siraye, if you would do the honors?” Siraye nods solemnly and begins to draw in the air again. I watch curiously as he tucks his left hand behind his back, spreads the fingers on his right hand and moves them through the air. Sparks trail behind his fingers then solidify into silver lines. He finishes on the right side and begins on the left, tucking his right hand behind his back so it won’t interfere with it’s already finished piece.

“State your names and races.” Siraye declares. I assume he is talking to us, because we are meant to be the subjects of the spell.

“Faladel Mithrandir. Elf.” I say.

“Briareth Herbalar. Elf.” Briareth says, rolling his eyes. “Do you really have to do the whole-” His voice gets cut off as Siraye, now finished with the drawing, brings both hands into a triangle in front of his face and blows through it, showering us with a pink foam. I blink surprised. Briareth gags as some gets into his mouth. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but pink fluffy foam wasn’t it. Maybe it would have been something worse if we had lied.

“Did you really have to do the whole thing?” Briareth coughs out, still gagging on the pink foam.

“What does it taste like, Briareth?” I ask.

“Soap, the nasty tasting type. Twelve percent lye if you must know.”

At this point the HeadMaster cuts back in. “To answer your earlier question, Briareth. Yes of course he had to do the whole thing, otherwise we couldn’t have been sure. Unlike you, I can’t afford to skimp on security. Now would you like to hear the rest of your punishment and debriefing or not?” Briareth mimes zipping his lip and HeadMaster Haulding nods. “Good. Faladel, welcome back from the land of the supposed dead. I'm sure your parents will be pleased to hear the news that you're alive if they don’t already know.” I nod in acknowledgement. “Unfortunately, you can’t head back to the capital yet-”

“Why not?” Briareth interrupts.

“I was just about to get to that Briareth, if you’d let me continue for a minute.”

“Sorry.” Briareth mutters, the HeadMaster nods.

“Thank you. Now, you two probably have no clue how lucky you were that Mr. Mithrandir bumped into the branch that wasn’t there. You were being followed by a party of Dwarves, around twelve of them to be precise. Lucky for you that the forest splits different parties into different scenes; while you were in a swamp, the Dwarves were in a snowstorm. You couldn’t see or hear each other, but if any of one party had bumped into the other party members, the illusion would have been broken. You would have both found yourselves fighting it out in either the snowstorm or the swamp depending on which illusion the forest deemed stronger.

“Unfortunately, the Dwarves are still inside the illusion, and don’t look like they will be trying to leave anytime soon. Until they are well and truly gone, I can’t undo the illusions to let anyone out or in.”

“But you let us in.” I say, confused “Why is it so different now?”

HeadMaster Haulding looks at me slightly annoyed, but then he sighs, as if realizing that I would have no way of previously knowing the answer to my question. “I didn’t break the illusion, no one here did. You two let yourselves out of the illusion by you, Faladel, bumping into a branch that wasn’t there, and then grabbing said branch. The illusion simply couldn’t continue after that. It was illogical and a waste of resources. So the forest shut it down.”

“The forest shut it down? Are you saying the forest is an independent being?”

“Well, sort of. We created it, and most of the time it will listen to us, but it can be finicky. We put the forest in charge of the illusions so we don’t have to expend the energy to keep multiple false realities going at once. Some students like Gaelin here help out, disguising trees initially, or not.” I’d nearly forgotten about him, but the HeadMaster apparently had not, shooting him a stern look. He shrinks back and tries to hide behind Siraye, who raises an eyebrow at him and steps aside, leaving him alone in the limelight of the HeadMasters glare.

After a sufficient pause for staring, the HeadMaster continues, “Anyway, the forest controls the illusions, we only help put them in place. We can sometimes ask for passage through, but it won’t shut down the illusions unless everyone has left its interior.”

“Will the Dwarves be able to find a way through?” I ask. The HeadMaster frowns in response.

“Probably not, but there is always the chance that they will find the same loophole you two did, and come bumbling through.”

“Then we are left waiting here like sitting ducks!” I exclaim.

“A whole school of wizards against twelve magicless Dwarves? I prefer to think of us as more like a hawk ready to swoop down upon hapless prey. But call us sitting ducks if you like.” HeadMaster Haulding says mildly. “While they stumble around freezing their buttocks off, we can prepare just in case. Most likely they will just wander around for a couple of days, trying to pick up your trail, and then leave when they realize they are going in circles and you have seemingly disappeared. If they get in, we can just kill them all. I have a new spell that I’ve been wanting to try out, but unfortunately it would be illegal except in matters of self defense. It would literally turn them inside out.” He smiles pleasantly at the thought and then continues.

“In the meantime, we will have to find someplace to house you. I don’t think anyone has dropped out yet. Siraye, any suggestions?”

“Well, Mr. Erhorn’s two roommates are confined to the infirmary for the foreseeable future because they have fungi instead of hair. They had been looking ahead in the textbook and tried some unsupervised experimentation on mushrooms. We could place Mr. Herbalar and Mr. Mithrandir in their dorm spots.”

“Excellent idea, Siraye. Mr. Herbalar and Mr. Mithrandir, during your stay, which will last for the foreseeable future as well, you will stay in the male student dorms with Mr. Erhorn, and can attend classes together. Briareth, as you have already been here, you can show Mr. Mithrandir around the first year classes or explore the second year classes. Enjoy your stay, however long it may last. Siraye, you are dismissed, guide Mr. Herbalar, and Mr. Mithrandir to their dorms please, and leave young Gaelin Shatoris with me.” the student in question shudders, probably freaked out that he has to be alone with this intimidating figure.

We follow Siraye out, and as we start back down the hallway, I grab Briareth’s sleeve and pull him back a bit so we are walking behind him. “Where exactly are we Briareth?”

“What do you mean? We are in a floating tower in a school of magic surrounded by a wall of illusions.”

“But I’ve never heard of any magic school so close to the front lines.”

“Well it’s location is supposed to be hidden. This is Mossblossom Central, Faladel!” My mouth drops open. What?! Mossblossom Central, but that would mean the HeadMaster’s last name wasn’t just a coincidence.

“We are at Mossblossom Central and that was Morthose Haulding?! The Morthose Haulding?! You know Morthose Haulding?” I’m flabbergasted.

“Well of course.” Briareth doesn’t seem to see the strangeness of it. “All King’s Archers train here in magic for a year. We drop out after the first year, but I got in trouble enough that I became a familiar face around the headmaster’s office. I was quite the wild child in my younger days Faladel, you wouldn’t believe.”

Briareth’s ridiculous statement breaks through the waves of shock that are washing over me. “I would have been more surprised if you hadn’t gone to the Headmaster’s office Mr. Starboard.”

Briareth laughs at my retort, and we trot forward going onto the platform again. I almost don’t notice how fast we descend towards the ground, I’m too lost in my own thoughts.

Morthose Haulding is one of the best known wizards in our world. He has been at the front of almost every magical innovation or discovery for the past three hundred years. Everyone knows his name, it was a huge thing when he accepted the position as HeadMaster of Mossblossom Central two hundred years ago. Even though it was before my time, I still heard about it every time a new invention came out of his school. He was mentioned in the papers regularly, whenever graduation time came around and the senior theses from Mossblossom Central came out, he would be cited in the thank yous columns. I walk off the platform and follow Briareth and Siraye, lost in memories.

I had a passion for magic when I was young and would always read the Senior Theses from the graduating class of Mossblossom Central. The best work of the best students of the best magic school in all of Elven territory, and me, a young magic nerd; of course I read it.

Eventually, I realized that I would never be able to write one of my own though. Every year I was tested for magical power. It is a big thing if an heir has a lot of magical power after all. But once my eightieth birthday passed without a glimmer of magic. It became clear to my family that I was a magical dud. I had absolutely no magical potential. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

I was devastated for weeks. I had dreamed of going to Mossblossom Central my entire life. Even if I could master all of the theoretical stuff, I would never be able to perform real magic. No Magical school would let in a Wizard who couldn’t actually do magic, much less Mossblossom Central. Mossblossom Central is the most competitive magic school in the Elven territory, even if the tests were wrong, and I did have a glimmer of magic inside me, it would never be enough to get me to Mossblossom Central, for that I would need to have a ridiculous amount of magical prowess. Any amount vaguely close to that high would be impossible for the tests to miss.

But now, here I am. In Mossblossom Central, going to one of their dorms, going to be able to take their classes. A smile bursts onto my face, and I give a half skip to catch up with Briareth and Siraye.

I’m going to be taking classes at Mossblossom Central!

This feels like a dream. I really hope those Dwarves aren’t in any hurry.