Chapter 13 - The Prydwen II

Character Notes:
Felix Sutter: Poor boy living in Sacramento, recently found out magic existed.

Hazel Winslow: Ran away from an abusive cult. Awoke as a natural mind mage.

Professor Myra Mistvale: Mind Magic professor from Camelot. Gave Hazel her letter, and a very stern lecture.

Professor Paracelsus: The Immortal Alchemist. Teaches Rituals at Camelot. The professor that told Felix magic existed.

Entry I – Of the New World and Hope Reborn

By eastward sail and fated compass, the New World was at last beheld. And lo - upon its untrodden soil did the children of magic feel once more the stirrings of ancient Hope.

Long had we laboured beneath the shroud of fear, our arts branded heresy, our kindred slain. Yet this new land whispered of sanctuary. Its trees spake secrets in tongues unknown, and the very winds sang of magicks yet unshaped.

It was a promise, fragile and bright, as the first light o’ dawn upon a battlefield. A dream most precious... and most fleeting.

Chronicles of the Sundering: A Personal Record by Mine Own Hand by Archmage Elowen Thorne, Keeper of the Black Flame, Scribe of the Meridian Vaults

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Felix rapidly blinked as he went through the arch. He went from midnight - a bright sort of midnight, the lights of a major city blotting out the stars - straight to daylight, the sun already in the sky and climbing. He blinked a moment as he looked around, only for Paracelsus to ram right into him. Felix went down in a tumble of bags and luggage, while Paracelsus straightened himself up, and looked down with a small shake of his head.

“Mr. Sutter. Please clear the doorway, especially when you know people are coming behind you.”

Felix climbed back to his feet, not saying anything in protest. He grabbed his stuff and looked around.

He found himself on a most unusual beach. The ur-beach, the idea of a beach. Sand meeting the waves in a perfectly straight line. A wall of mist surrounded everything, creating a sharp cut-off, like they were in the middle of the eye of a hurricane. A single wooden dock stretched out, meeting a huge five-masted galleon in the depths. The Prydwen was emblazoned in golden letters on the side, and a ramp made for easy access. 

It was much colder than he would expect for a summer day. Then again, Sacramento regularly broke 100, 110 degrees in the summer. Thankfully, it was a dry heat. Wasn’t England supposed to be cold and rainy?

All around him were hundreds and hundreds of other gates. Crude gates of two sticks touching each other, like the one he’d gone through. Medium gates that were simply constructed, but without any fancy additions. Some of the gates had doors, most simply had swirling mist. A few were terribly ornate. Black marble with inlaid silver, arches of vines and blooming flowers. There was nobody else on the beach yet, and the hair’s on the back of Felix’s neck prickled.

“Where is everyone?” He asked. “Are they coming through the gates?”

Paracelsus frowned slightly, his shoulders slumping an unnoticeable hair.

“We are the first to arrive. We came early in case there were any issues. As for the other gates…”

He was interrupted by a new gate forming, and a second pair walked through. A matronly-looking witch in long robes with her hair done up in a severe bun came through the gate, and a moment later a girl shuffled through. Her head was sunk into her hoodie, and her head was bowed forward enough that her hair was hiding her face.

“Ah! Professor Mistvale! Excellent! I presume this is the young lady you were sent to assist?”

The professor pursed her lips, and Felix stared curiously. Between the hoodie - who wore one in the middle of summer, in this heat? - and the hair, he could barely catch a glimpse of a brown eye.

“Yes. Winslow, why don’t you introduce yourself to the young man?” She said, again with the accent.

Felix could see her rolling her eyes, and realized the other thing that was bothering him. She didn’t have any luggage. 

“Hazel.” She said, not making any moves towards him.

“Felix. Nice to meet you.” He said.

“Americans.” Paracelsus rolled his eyes. “Now, this is entirely optional, but broadly, people address each other by their last names, not their first, not unless they’re friends.”

Felix and Hazel both glanced at Paracelsus, then looked at each other. Already, there was an unspoken agreement between the strangers - no, they were going to keep being “Americans” and using first names. The last name thing was silly.

“Should we get on the ship now, or…?” Felix asked.

“There is one more lady in a similar situation to the two of you who we are waiting for.” Paracelsus explained. Mistvale shook her head.

“No, I just got word. She decided to attend Salem instead.”

Paracelsus shook his head.

“Well. As much as I believe that is a mistake, it is her life to do with as she wishes. Do you wish to board The Prydwen, or wait for others here?”

“Board.” Hazel immediately said. She didn’t wait for anyone, instead making a beeline for the dock. Felix shrugged.

“I guess I’ll join her?” He asked. “Is there anything I should know?”

“We will both be onboard in case of any problems.” Mistvale immediately answered, in a slightly superior tone. “Traditionally, each level of the Prydwen is devoted to a different year. The first years are on the bottom, the eighth years are on the top. The deck is open to everyone. Now, you may wander as you like, but know that sticking your thumb in the eyes of tradition is unlikely to make you many friends.”

Felix shrugged. Didn’t make a difference to him. He grabbed his suitcase and lifted it up with a groan. He started to waddle towards the ship, but only made it a dozen steps before he had to put it down. 

Sand and little wheels did not mix, and he’d packed under the assumption he only had to wheel it around, not lift and carry it.

Professor Mistvale whipped out her wand and twirled it while chanting.

“Shu-hw!” 

A teal bolt of light zipped across the sand and hit his suitcase. Felix almost unbalanced as his suitcase suddenly weighed nothing. He spun around in the sand, stabilizing himself. He experimentally lifted the suitcase up and down, needing almost no effort to move it.

“Whoa.” He said, then let it go. It drifted in front of him, utterly unmoored from gravity. “Thanks!” He waved over, then continued to follow after Hazel. It was only as he stepped on the wooden planks of the dock that he realized his question about the gates had never been answered.

Any thoughts about that were promptly knocked out of his head as he spotted his first crew member. A literal skeleton was busy tying ropes down, while a second sprinted across the deck with a mop, a bucket magically skidding along with it. As Felix’s eyes adjusted, he saw a third by the steering wheel of the mighty ship.

There were undead? An undead crew? Was this normal? He looked over his shoulder, where the two professors were deep in conversation. He shrugged to himself, then wanted to facepalm.

Skeletons. Crew. It was a literal skeleton crew. Hazel got onboard with a jaunty wave from one of the skeletons. Given the lack of murdering and screaming, figuring that he just had to roll with things in the new world he found himself in, Felix boarded as well. He eyed the skeleton as he passed, but it didn’t do anything besides wave.

The door to the lower decks swirled open as Hazel approached. Felix paused at the entryway, trying to study the door. 

There were no cracks in the wall, no visible part on the ceiling or floor where the doorway had retracted. It looked like it had simply absorbed into the wood around it.

“Huh. Neat.” Felix said to nobody. One of the passing skeletons heard him, and started to nod vigorously with a wild grin.

There weren’t any stairs after the door, only a gentle ramp. Felix mentally blessed the builders of the boat - no need to try and haul his luggage down rope stairs or anything like that. Hazel had already zipped ahead, entirely unburdened, and Felix slowly worked his way down. As he took the first steps, he noticed a few more Gates of Mist opening out of the corner of his eye.

They’d been the first, but not by much. He stifled a yawn - even though the sun was up and bright here, it was still the middle of the night as far as his body was concerned.

Every level was nearly identical. A long hallway had a glittering number, starting at 8 and going down. Each one was brightly lit, in spite of a lack of light sources. Something that looked like a lounge was at the very end of the hallway, along with a completely clear view of the outside. Nevermind that the bow had been solid wood in the first place.

Felix saw one open door, and figured he’d stick with Hazel, the one person he vaguely knew. She didn’t seem that annoying, and if they were the only two people that had come from the real world, unknown to magic before a professor knocked on their door with a letter? Well, might as well stick together, they had some shared experience. It was that, or take a random room.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” He asked the girl.

She grunted something that he assumed was ‘fine’, along with possibly ‘don’t talk to me’. Or just ‘go away’... but if she wanted him to leave, she could just say that. She kept unnervingly staring at him, never taking her eyes off him as he moved around the cabin.

The room was spartan, but functional. Luggage racks were on one end, and a pair of hammocks were on the other side. A large viewport was underwater, and the sea was simply teeming with life. Felix resolved to look at it more. A long booth was in the middle of the room, giving a nice table with high-backed wooden seating.

Felix wrestled his luggage into one of the racks, surprised that it expanded to accommodate his stuff. He briefly debated trying to take a nap in one of the hammocks - his eyelids were certainly heavy enough, and he couldn’t stop another yawn breaking free - but it felt like a bad idea.

He was going to meet other wixen! What would they be like? What was the magic of the ship like? How much was there to explore?

He sat down across from Hazel, next to the wall.

“Soo… where are you from?” He asked.

“Here and there.” She said, continuing to stare at him. “You’re weird.”

“How’s that?” Felix snapped, crossing his arms.

“You-” Hazel froze, her eyes darting from side to side. She drew her knees up to her chest and shook her head. “Nothing.” She muttered, looking out the window.

Felix studied the outside.

A dazzling coral reef had brightly colored fish swimming around it. Manta rays swum through the water, as did sharks with bioluminescent markings on their side. Felix did a double-take at that, and peered more closely. Pearls were scattered around like decoration, a giant squid’s tentacles were corkscrewing behind it, propelling it through the water, and kelp forests swayed in unusual patterns.

Felix’s biggest hint of magic were the sea turtles. They swam together, a rune etched on every plate of their shell. He blinked.

Wait, if they were in England, why was the water so tropical? Didn’t giant squids live in the deeps or something?

How was there a huge reef so close to shore?

He slowly grinned at the view.

Magic was awesome!

Felix spent long minutes staring out the window, watching the dazzling displays of marine life. Occasionally, he’d try to rub the sleep out of his eyes. The sounds of dozens, hundreds of students boarding the ship slowly echoed down towards them. The first few people poked their heads in briefly. Not spotting what they were looking for - either their friends, or an empty cabin - they left and moved on. Felix briefly debated going up to the lounge and see what it was like, but was hit by an attack of nerves.

As fascinating as the marine life was, it was only able to hold Felix’s attention for about an hour. The yawns were coming thick and fast, but they hadn’t even left the Port of Dreams. His brain was all fuzzy, but he was still too excited to sleep.

Felix had the perfect ‘low brainpower but need to work’ activity. He got up and grabbed one of his library textbooks - $399.99 new - and a completely blank notebook. He sat down, opened the book to the first useful page - the table of contents, authors note, copyright, and other such pages were worthless to him - and started laboriously copying the book, word for word.

He pretended he didn’t notice how Hazel’s gaze never left him. 

Almost an hour later, with a lurch that caused a sharp blue line across the page he was working on, The Prydwen set sail to Camelot.