Wizardry 101

Alistair stood nervously in an open area that was previously the swamp. In his hand was the broomstick the witch made for him.

He looked flustered, unsure of what he was about to do. It wasn't clear to him why the witch had resorted to teaching him this, but it would definitely be convenient if he could soar through the skies instead of traveling on land. Who knew what other hiccups he might encounter on his journey.

He lifted his arms, examining his new outfit. He wore wizarding robes and a hat, which were slightly askew. They had a certain stench to them that made him nauseous. It was the stench of incense.

The witch stood hunched over nearby, assessing him with those vulgarized eyes of hers. Even at her full height, she was no taller than his chest level.

"Is she a dwarf witc-" his thoughts were interrupted by the haunted growls he could never get used to.

"Your time is far spent. The more time you waste, the less your chances of success. And I need my territory back, so certainly, let's get this over with." She growled, still caressing the large mole on her cheek.

"Let's begin with getting familiar with your broomstick, by observing its design and contours. Simply feel them!"

Alistair nodded, but deep down he felt like dying. All until now, he made sure he established the slightly contacts with the broomstick.

He could get the sight of the witch smearing it with mucous, and now he would have to run his hands along it? Talk about nasty!

With no choice, he gruesomely examined the broomstick, his face twisted into a disgusted expression. He took a deep breath, before running his hands over its bristles and handle.

While doing so, he sheepishly glanced at the witch for approval. Hoping she wouldn't notice that his hands barely made contact with the broomstick.

Without the slightest care, she beckons him to move to the next step. "Now, try taking hold of the broomstick between your legs and find your balance." She instructed, scooping a mound of her own mucous from her nose and dipping it straight into her mouth.

Alistair cringed and spat, increasing the gap between himself and her. He took a deep breath, holding the broomstick between his legs, and wobbled awkwardly.

"Um, like this?" He asked, visibly struggling with keeping his balance.

"Not quite, not quite." She chuckled, conjuring a broomstick of her own, and began to do more showing than telling. "Stand up straight, keep your feet apart, and try to maintain your balance without wobbling... just like this."

He readjusted his stance, tried again, but still struggled to find his balance.

"Take your time. It's all about feeling the broomstick's weight and finding your own center of gravity." She explained. "And mind you, you should be giving respect to your broomstick because, like you, it now has a life of its own."

Alistair shrugged off the weirdness of what she just told him, and took another deep breath, before attempting the exercise once more. This time, getting the right weight adjustments, albeit still looking uneasy.

"There, there! I was beginning to get impatient with how surprisingly dulled your youthful senses are!" She said. "Now, let's move to heightening your connection to the broomstick. This is magical, therefore requires some meditation."

They both sat down on the barren floor. She gestured for Alistair to close his eyes and take a moment to focus.

"Clear your mind. Visualize yourself confidently flying on the broomstick. Feel the wind rushing through your hair and the freedom of the open skies." She said.

Alistair took a deep breath and followed her guidance. His face scrunches up in concentration. There was a skeptical feeling in his gut, it was the lack of faith in all what he was doing.

Although magic was a thing where he came from, straddling a broomstick, in his opinion, sounded like a farce.

"Don't strain too hard, human!" She groaned, growing more and more intolerant. "Let the visualizations come naturally to you."

After a few moments of deep concentration, Alistair opened his eyes, barely managing to fend off the skepticism stopping his progress.

Give me a moment to establish a spellbound connection between you and your broomstick. Alistair watched closely as she took hold of his right palm. A sudden pain shot through his hands. It was a sharp one that caused him to scream.

"Aw!" He looked down to see a large cut had been made in his palm. "What in the hell is wrong with you?!" He couldn't help asking.

"Now grab hold of your broomstick." She ordered, caring less about his bluntness.

"This feels like some serious occult shit." He thought, hesitating for a moment, but her vulgarized stares made him grab it.

Instantly, he could feel exactly what she said moments ago about the broomstick. He could feel its life force. "It indeed has a life of its own... talk of weird!"

"Let's move to the next step." She growled, getting off the floor. Upon feeling the broomstick, Alistair's expression changed from one of doubt, to a mixture of eagerness and nervousness. "I wonder how it feels for all of those birds" He thought.

"Now, remember what you've learned so far. Stand confidently, grip the broomstick firmly, and bend your knees slightly." She instructed, while doing the same.

For the most part of this lesson, he had been drawing a lot of breaths than he realized, and he drew yet another, trying to steady his nerves. He gripped the broomstick tightly, his knuckles strained and turning white.

"Visualize yourself lifting off the ground—feeling weightless and in control." She growled.

Alistair nodded and took another deep breath. With a determined look, he pushed off the ground, using his legs to propel himself upwards. However, instead of gracefully ascending, he shot up too quickly, almost losing control.

"Whoa, whoa!" He panicked, swaying rapidly from left to right, slightly above ground. Quickly, the Witch recited strange, unrecognizable words that made him levitate back to the ground.

"Don't be at haste. You have to be more gradual with the takeoff. Remember to control the pressure, like we practiced." She said. He looked flustered but nodded, a bit more determined to get it right.

"If I could make it off the ground ones, then this is real." He thought.

"Take your time. Concentrate on finding your balance and adjusting your position once airborne. Trust yourself and the connection you've established with the broomstick." She said, hoping she was making enough sense to this dull human.

Alistair gathered his composure, and prepared for another attempt. He bent his knees slightly to build momentum. Then gradually putting pressure on the pushed off ground, propelling himself upwards.

Once airborne, he struggled a bit but found his balance on the broomstick. "Damn, I made it!" He screamed inwardly. "Time to go for a ride."

He kept his legs slightly flexed, finding a comfortable seating position, and gradually started moving. He flew to the end of the barren land and made a quick turning, he heard her say, "Gradually decrease your altitude and descent."

Coming to a slow deceleration, he descended right at the point he took off from. "Way to go Alistair, you've always been the best, even if people around you refuse to see it." He thought, feeling pompous about his little success.

"I see your departure is imminent." The witch said, touching the handle of the broomstick and reciting yet another set of weird words. "Take this, and journey eastward towards the heart of the mountains. Trust your broomstick, it would guide you."

Alistair took from her, what looked like a miniature totem of a mandrake root. "What am I meant to find there?" He asked.

"Your next training." She said. "Along your journey, you will feel the mountains rumble every so often. This is a sign that you are on the right part. When the rumbling gets stronger and frequent, you are getting closer. But beware, he isn't as generous as I am."

"And what is this totem for?" Alistair asked, examining the object thoroughly. It held a scary resemblance to a writhing human in pain. And it gave off an eerie feeling, just by holding it.

"It's to prove that you are indeed under the wing of the great Mandragora." She replied in a high-pitched shriek. "Now off you go."

"Mandra-what, is that your name?" Alistair asked, but the witch had already spirited out of sight. Now his surroundings felt even more eerie. "I've got to admit, I felt a bit safe in her room. A witch's room! I wonder, how fucked up that sounds?"

"Well, time to go!" He said, kicking off.

Suddenly, the broomstick took off with a mind of its own, jerking violently and causing Alistair to lose his balance.

"Whoa! Wait! Slow down!" He panicked. "Have you lost your mind?"

The broomstick swayed a bit and shot upwards at lightning speed, leaving Alistair shrieking for dear life.

"Heeeelp! I've made a terrible mistake!" He shrieked, barely hanging on.

Alistair flailed his arms, desperately trying to regain control as the broomstick whisked him around the forest in wild, unpredictable circles. He barely dodged trees, narrowly avoiding collisions, but not without making him throw up.

"Great. Just great. Why did I think I could fly?" He screamed.

With a headlong deep dive, Alistair crashed full force into a sturdy tree, bouncing back before tumbling head over heels. Twigs and leaves stuck out of his clothes, making him look like a human bird's nest.

"Aagh! Remind me to stick to... stick to walking!" He said, gritting his teeth.

Disoriented but determined, Alistair somehow managed to regain a shred of control, fumbling to steer the broomstick away from further disaster.

"Alright, okay, let's... turn left? No, right! Or maybe... yikes!" He stuttered, crush-landing into a large bush, twigs, and leaves flying everywhere. He struggled to get out, looking like a hapless hedgehog.

"I'm okay... just embracing my inner hedgehog! No big deal!" He emerged, taking flight again, and zapping toward the horizon.

***