Way of The Wand

The broth in the cauldron bubbled, spilling some of the slick green liquid over the sides. Green smoke filled the air, choking up the already stuffy kitchen.

Jira noticed that some of her students were backing away from the cauldron and frowned. This was part of what they'd come here to study: witchcraft. It wouldn't always be exciting spells and racing around on broomsticks. This nasty bit, standing in a steamy room and suffocating on the smoke of foul-smelling potion broth, was an indelible part of the experience. This was what it meant to be a witch.

"If you can't stand potion fumes, maybe you should be studying wizardry instead of witchcraft."

"Maybe they should."

Stunned, Jira straightened up to look at who had just spoken. The voice did not belong to any of her fifteen students. It sounded too mature and too confident. It sounded like a voice she'd been all too familiar with once, but it couldn't be. Not after all these years.

Jira's eyes fell on the culprit, her mother, Kalinda Rakha, standing in the doorway arms akimbo. 

The young witch let go of the stick she had been using to turn the broth and started towards her mother. Jira wouldn't call this a pleasant surprise. After all, the old woman could mean nothing but trouble. 

Jira's students parted for her to pass. 

"What are you doing here, Mother?"

Unlike most wizards, Kalinda disliked the long black robes associated with wizardry and preferred to dress in bright, colourful, eye-popping coats.

Her pick for today was a heavy blue coat with flowery stitching at the hem.

"You say the word 'Mother' like it's a slur. How about you call me 'Mum' instead, like old times?"

"You haven't answered my question, Mother," Jira said, doubling down.

Kalinda feigned disappointment. "Does a mother need a reason to visit her daughter?"

"Oh," Jira said, her voice thick with derision, "I only ask because you haven't come to see me in…" she stared blankly into space, "four—almost five—years now, is it?"

Kalinda pulled Jira in for a hug. "Oh, Jira, you know how it is. Running the biggest school of wizardry in the land tends to keep one busy." 

She broke off the hug and held Jira at arm's length, looking her over. "Believe me when I tell you I've missed you."

Jira stared into her mother's sky-blue eyes, trying to discern if it was true. 

With her soft expression and blond hair cascading down her back, Kalinda seemed genuine enough, but past experiences had left too many dents in their relationship for Jira to trust whatever was reflecting in those blue pupils.

Jira drew herself up to show she wasn't just going to welcome her mother with open arms. Not after everything that had happened.

"You think after abandoning me all these years, you can just show up at my house and pretend like everything is alright?"

"Abandoned you?" The defensiveness set into Kalinda's voice quick. "You abandoned us, Jira. You turned your back on us. And wizards don't do that. Wizards don't walk away from their family."

"Thank the gods I'm no wizard then."

Jira gave her mother a hard look before continuing, backing away slowly, "I know you didn't leave your busy schedule to come here for nothing. So please, out with it. I'd like to get back to teaching my students."

"Your students…" Kalinda's eyes combed over the crowd of teens. To her they didn't look much like students. With their informal shirts, skirts, trousers, and dashikis, they could pass for friends attending a house party. 

No student of hers would dare come to school dressed like that. The standard black uniforms, down to the hats and shoes, were a must at Airad. Breaking the school's strict dress codes incurred heavy penalties. 

"You know, when I got word that you'd started a school of witchcraft to compete with our family's school of wizardry, I refused to believe it."

Jira clapped her hands. "Well, now you've seen it with your own eyes."

Kalinda paced a few steps forward and back, taking in the features of the building she was in. It was a pity her daughter had deserted the family mansion to come live—and now teach—in a place like this.

The brick walls were marked with age. Slime and cobwebs drooped from the corners, and the wooden doors were chipped in places.

Kalinda pinched her nose in disgust. What a far cry this was from the golden walls and bronze doors of the place Jira once called home.

On her way here, walking through the narrow street, Kalinda had imagined that the interior of the building would be better than the exterior.

Now she knew she was wrong.

Never in her life would she have guessed that she would visit a place like this. Hell, the name of the street, Witches' Cove, in normal circumstances would have made Kalinda label it a no-go area for her.

But because of her daughter, she'd braced the tiny dirt road, penned in on both sides by ugly, oddly shaped wood and brick houses, all ashy on the outside because time had worn away their colour, to get to the very last house on the street. The house her daughter now called home, and apparently, school.

The only non-depressing thing about this whole street was the circle of palm trees in front of Jira's house. And Kalinda had half a mind to set them on fire, just to give the witches a little trouble.

She stopped just shy of the open kitchen door as she couldn't put up with the strong smell of the potion boiling in the cauldron. "You're teaching these kids out of your house, making potions in your kitchen. I'm not sure I would call this a school."

Jira folded her mahogany-coloured hands into fists to keep from saying something both she and her mother would regret. 

Kalinda exhaled, pouring out pity as well as a breath of air. "Jira, come back to us, your family. Come back to me. You don't have to suffer like this just to spite me."

Jira folded her arms in response, her body stiffening with rising anger. "Not everything I do is because of you."

"Maybe not," Kalinda replied, flailing her arms, "but this definitely is. Why else would you choose to study witchcraft over wizardry, abandoning your heritage, if not because you wanted to displease me?" 

 "Oh, I don't know," Jira gesticulated with her hands, "maybe because I happen to like witchcraft and don't subscribe to the false notion that it's a lesser form of magic than wizardry."

Kalinda closed the gap between herself and her daughter. "You expect me to believe you're satisfied with needing wands to cast spells, potions to heal, and broomsticks to fly?"

"It's a free country; you can believe whatever you want."

That ticked Kalinda off, but all she could do was sigh again. 

"I've come to try and make amends, Jira. You said you wanted to know why I'm here. That's it."

"Too bad, you're four years too late."

Kalinda was going to say something, but her eyes caught on the cauldron as it shook with unearthly force. The green potion simmering inside it had overboiled and become unstable.

Jira followed her mother's eyes and saw it too. Her heart slowed to a stop. She'd totally forgotten about the potion.

"Run!" She shouted to her students, sending them scattering before the cauldron could explode.

No way all fifteen students would get far enough to be at a safe distance.

Kalinda went for another play. She gestured with her hands and used her magic to lift the cauldron into the air, sending it crashing through the roof.

The bang of the explosion rocked the building, sending many of the students off their feet. 

As the rubble of broken roof and cauldron parts fell back down, Kalinda froze everything, suspending the chunks of brick and metal in mid-air.

Her eyes flashed down to her daughter and the students. "See what I mean? You witches are completely helpless without your wands."

Kalinda let everything fall gently to the ground as Jira went to make sure all her students were alright.

"Thank you, mother, for treating us to a grand display of your power," Jira said after helping the students who'd fallen back to their feet. "And how long did it take you to learn that trick? Thirteen years?"

Jira went into the kitchen and returned with her wand. She pointed it at the mess of metal and brick on the floor and whispered, "fix." 

The metal parts zoomed back together and reformed the cauldron while the chunks of bricks flew back to their places in the roof.

Jira turned to her mother with a satisfied look on her face. "Want to know how long it took me to learn how to do that? Three months."

Kalinda shrugged. "Yes, but you still need a wand to do it."

Jira's nostrils narrowed, the tell-tale sign she was upset. "Nothing in our relationship is going to change until you accept that witches are worthy of the same dignity and respect accorded to wizards."

"Then prove it," Kalinda said. "Prove that witches are not weaker. Prove that they are our equals."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" Jira asked, already guessing she would not like the answer.

Kalinda rocked side to side in excitement like a ship at harbour. "It's simple, really. I propose a tournament. Three tasks for three champions each from your school and mine." She paused to allow the idea to sink in. "And if your champions win, I will announce to the world that everyone has been wrong all this time to assume that wizardry is better than witchcraft."

Jira shook her head to decline. "If that's what it'll take, then I'm afraid I'm not interested. I will not risk the lives of my students just to prove a point to you."

"Well, that's a pity then."

"Jira," a timid voice came from the background.

Jira turned to face Tomi, her timid but gifted student, who had just turned fourteen the week before. She wore her hair in braids, wrapped tight in a bun, and had soft brown eyes that could melt even the coldest hearts.

"What is it, dear?"

Tomi fiddled her dark fingers to manage her nervousness. "We don't mind."

The statement blew Jira away. "What?" She shot Tomi a questioning glare. "Don't tell me you buy this idea."

Timi, Tomi's more confident sixteen-year-old brother, stepped forward. 

"If this is what it will take to stop the world from ridiculing us for studying witchcraft, then we're in," he said, brushing the faded sides of his thick black hair with his hands.

Jira's shoulders dropped. She could see in the eyes of all her students that they agreed with Timi and Tomi.

Jira snapped back to her mother. "Very well then, have it your way. A tournament between witches and wizards. Two schools, three tasks, three champions."

Kalinda locked her hands together, her chest rising with excitement. "Splendid. Leave it to me to set everything up." 

Lila Orion, like most of Jira’s students, lived on the same street. Her house sat at the entrance to Witches’ Cove, a mere fifteen-minute walk from Jira’s house.

However, whenever classes ended, Lila preferred to go with Tomi and Timi to the Witches’ Market instead, even though it was more than an hour away.

It was either that or staying at home alone until late in the night when her parents returned, and Lila wasn’t a fan of spending time alone.

The only child of her parents, Lila Orion dreaded the loneliness of her house.

Starting at Jira’s School of Witchcraft turned things around for her. She got to spend time with fourteen other kids, two of which had become like pseudo siblings to her.

Unlike most of the other kids who got excited when classes ended, Lila often wished classes continued long into the evening. After all, nothing but empty seats and vacant rooms awaited her at home.

She called out to Tomi the moment Jira dismissed them.

“Let me guess,” Timi said, “your parents are working late again today?”

Lila nodded, her blonde hair swaying left and right as she rushed to join her friends standing in the cramped street.

She paused to wave goodbye to some other students, who simply crossed the street and disappeared into homes around, small and twisted like the giants from the old tales stepped on them.

As the last of them vanished off the street, leaving Lila, Tomi, and Jira alone, Lila gave her attention back to the Afolabi siblings.

“The company is trying to meet the deadline for the release of a new model of crystal wands.”

“Didn’t they just release some new ones two months ago?” Tomi asked.

“You know the Tartian motto: never stop innovating.” Lila mimicked the way her father usually said it.

She never understood why he and her mother had to work so hard for a company that wasn’t even theirs, especially when there were rumours that Arron Tartian who owned the Tartian empire, rarely ever showed up to work.

Tomi slipped a hand into her pocket and brushed the side of her wooden wand. She got it when she started training with Jira, and even though wooden wands were less effective than crystal wands, she loved it all the same. Besides, her parents couldn’t afford the extra hundred gamnis the cheapest crystal wands cost.

Tomi slipped out her hand from her pocket. “This makes the third straight week your parents have been held back at their workplace.”

Lila shrugged. At this point, she was used to it.

Every time Lila’s parents worked late, she went with Tomi and Timi to the Witches’ Market and stayed in their parents’ broomstick shop till hers came to get her.

And since Lila’s parents worked late very often, Lila had come to think of the Afolabis as a surrogate family.

These days, she even looked forward to spending time with them at their broomstick shop.

They resumed walking, with Lila setting the pace for them. “And they’ve been talking about quitting too but I know they are not going to do it. They need the money.”

Lila continued to talk about her parents’ job until they left Witches’ Cove, cutting into the wider street that served as the main road to the Witches’ Market.

Carriages and carts drove past them, and a few witches on broomsticks flew above them as they journeyed by the side of the road.

They made sure to stick close to the treeline, where the dust raised by passing vehicles was less likely to reach them.

The trees hedging in at either side of the wide road looked dead and dry but would sprout back to life in a month’s time when the rains returned.

The trio played this little game where they guessed which vehicles were headed to the Witches’ Market and used that to pass the time.

By the time they did arrive at the Witches’ Market though, the conversation had moved on to a more serious topic: the tournament.

“Do you really think we stand a chance?” Lila asked, sliding over the curved bridge through the market’s entrance and almost colliding into a mobile stall, a tent mounted on a wooden cart.

“Watch it child!” The trader scolded her.

Lila apologized with a bow and waited for Tomi and Timi to catch up.

“They say Airad’s the best wizarding school in the land,” Lila added as the siblings met up with her.

“Is it?” Timi questioned, leading their small group down a small path between market stalls of textiles, shoes, and cauldrons. “I personally think it’s overrated. Just a place for spoiled rich brats to gather. I mean, didn’t Jira tell us as much?”

“Well, that’s not how she put it,” Tomi corrected, not liking Timi’s oversimplification even a little bit. “She said she just wasn’t into how they approached magic and left.”

They zigzagged through the crowd, avoiding sellers and buyers locked in bargain.

“I don’t know whether we’ll win or not,” Tomi continued, “but not trying at all would be wrong.”

“I believe we’ll beat them,” Timi said, turning a corner down another tiny path crowded by even bigger shops. “What can wizards do that we can’t? They can fly, and so can we with our brooms. They can control the elements, and so can we with our wands. They can manifest objects with their hands, and so can we with our wands.”

“Well, that last part isn’t exactly accurate,” Lila voiced out. “Witches can only translocate objects with their wands, not create them from scratch.”

“That’s true,” Timi admitted, calling to mind the memory of the class where Jira first demonstrated translocation for them.

That day she’d walked into class with a broomstick and handed it to Timi. Then she walked away from him and said, “Broomstick.”

And just like that, the broom in his hand vanished and appeared on the ground at Jira’s feet.

“But still, it doesn’t guarantee their victory. I mean, whatever wizards manifest eventually snaps out of existence, right? So clearly, they’re not that powerful. Besides, when it comes to good old spell casting, we have them beat.” Timi argued.

When he looked up, his parents broomstick shop came into view.

They met only Mrs Afolabi at the shop, which meant Mr Afolabi was out making deliveries again.

Even though he was just sixteen, Timi was already a head taller than his mother.

He bent low as he drew her in for a hug, releasing her so Tomi and Lila could have theirs also.

“Hi Aunt Wura,” Lila greeted. She was by no means related through blood to the Afolabis, but for all intents and purposes, Wura Afolabi was her aunt, and the husband, Yomi Afolabi, her uncle.

Mrs Wura Afolabi cupped Lila’s face in her soft hands, her long black fingers reaching as far back as Lila’s neck. “Your parents are still having those extra shifts?”

Lila nodded. “It’s okay though,” she said. “At least I get to hang out with you.”

Mrs Afolabi laughed, tipping her brown gele to one side as she did. “Sit down all of you.”

She cleared a pack of broomsticks blocking the woven raffia chairs towards the far end of the store. “Let me fetch you some akara to eat.”

Lila received her plate of akara with thanks, her nose bulging as the scent of spice and oil creeped in. She stuffed one ball into her mouth and leaned closer to Tomi beside her.

“You think we should tell your mother about the tournament?”

Tomi shushed Lila, telling her to lower her voice. “Not yet. If my Mum learns of this now, she’ll freak out. She might just overreact and pull me out of school. Do you want that to happen?”

Lila straightened up on her chair and continued eating her akara in silence. She definitely didn’t want what Tomi just described to happen.

When the time came, they would have to find a way to break this news to their parents in a way that wouldn’t scare them.