The Undermarket

Deleted first chapter from Mattson Academy

Chapter 1

The morning sun illuminated the city skyline in hues of orange and pink behind thin wisps of purple clouds; a wonderous kind of everyday magic, but not the kind Connor McTaggart was interested in.

“It’s too early,” he said, punctuated by a pronounced yawn.

“I have to work later,” his mother answered.

“Dad could’ve taken me.”

Sally McTaggart tried to hold in her laughter, but her shoulders shook and her brown curls bounced from the effort. “Your dad still gets twitchy when my elven coworkers come over,” she said. “Can you imagine him at the Undermarket with that many Folk around? I’ve seen it. He was a nervous wreck.”

Connor’s dad possessed no magical abilities and only discovered the truth about magic after marrying Connor’s mom. Only then did he meet any members of the Folk, the magical non-human races living just beyond sight of those who didn’t know to look for them. Connor’s powers manifested around age five at which points his parents explained the nature of magical and the Folk, and he’d had to keep it secret ever since.

Sort of.

“Did I show you this?” He raised his hand and his mother’s purse wobbled up from the car floor, spilling its contents before falling.

“Stop that! You don’t want someone to see.” She snatched her purse and shot Connor a brief glare. Her dark brown eyes bored into his matching ones and he looked away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “But I’m starting school in two days. I feel like I don’t know anything.”

“You aren’t going to be any worse than anyone else.” She squeezed his hand and softened her tone. “I’m sure there are a hundred other kids having this same conversation today. Once you get to Mattson, you’ll be doing so much magic you’ll be sick of it.”

Connor smiled. Mattson Academy was a high school for magic users. And I finally get to go, he thought.

They cruised into the city, parking across the street from a busy flyway. Connor hopped out of the car and stretched. His mom tousled his sandy brown hair.

“Hard to believe you’re already fourteen, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, you haven’t forgotten my birthday present, right?”

“Your birthday was a month ago. Did we not get you something?” she teased.

Connor frowned but didn’t push it.

Across the street, a cramped city of tents and wagons sprawled over a few small lots. Raucous cries competed with the shouts of shop owners. Men and women in dirty clothes shambled around rickety tables and rundown carts. Connor caught a whiff of something rotten and wrinkled his nose. Something told Connor he should avoid it, but he and his mother walked over without hesitation.

They crossed into the shade of the flyway. Connor felt the slightest resistance, like walking through a bubble. The Undermarket sprang to life.

The people transformed from a motley assortment of men and women to beings of all different sizes and shapes. Spindly-fingered elves with long pointed ears and eyes like pools of ink made small talk with glowing pixies who zipped through the air like hummingbirds. Stout, grey-skinned orcs jeered with shorter, stouter dwarves. Minotaurs, harpies, gnolls, and more wandered the aisles between stands.

The rich scent of grilled meats and roasted nuts hung heavy in the air. Vendors’ carts overflowed with luscious fruits and vegetables. Tables were piled high with vibrant clothes. There were stands with musical instruments (some playing themselves), blacksmiths with bizarre tools, alchemists hawking stoppered flasks of lightning and lava.

Connor had seen most of it before, and while it never got old, this time he surveyed the masses for someone his age. Finding none, he kept an eye out for the flashy colors of the local dueling team. They usually set up a stand to sell merch, and sometimes a player or two made an appearance to talk to kids and sign autographs.

Connor’s mother checked her watch. “We are a bit early. I don’t see the book truck yet. We’ll have to get your other things first. You said you wanted to take Potions and Alchemy, right?”

Connor nodded. His mom had made a Potion of Titan Strength when they moved the previous summer. His Dad lifted a couch with one hand, and his mom carried dressers all by herself. She hadn’t let him try any.

They pushed through to an alchemist’s stand where a wiry dwarf greeted them with a practiced sales pitch. Connor’s mom spent a few minutes haggling and they walked away with a complete basic set of tubes, flasks, beakers, and a mortar and pestle.

“Can I get a Bunsen burner too?”

“No, they have them in class. Besides, you’ll be making your own fire in just a few weeks,” she winked.

Next to the alchemist, a fishmonger’s cart stood largely deserted. Two shadowy figures kept a silent vigil. They wore damp scarves around their faces and baggy clothes heavy with moisture. A few others, similarly dressed, lurked nearby. They were all tall, with long arms and webbed hands. Most shoppers steered clear, affording them only a leery glance; Connor drifted toward them, eager for the new sight.

“Don’t stare.” His mom jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“Who are they?”

“Merfolk.”

“Why is everyone avoiding them?”

Sally half-started several sentences before sighing. “Well, they used to eat people.” Connor froze, and Sally rubbed at her forehead. “They stopped over a hundred years ago. I’m sure we hunted them too, not that either side gets a pass. It’s just growing pains now. Elves and Dwarves integrated with humans in medieval times, but it’s not like they had a smooth transition either. Merfolk just need a little more time.” Sally’s frown evaporated and she nudged Connor. “I’m sure you’ll learn all about it at school.”

Sally approached the Merfolk’s cart, earning a few sideways looks. Connor followed close behind as she smiled and shook hands with the two Mermen and bought a whole rockfish. She thanked them and even exchanged a few pleasantries.

“When do you think we could go get my birthday present?” Connor asked in a lilting, parent-pleasing tone.

“I don’t know.” She tried to sound serious, but a smile cracked her expression. “We should see if the book truck has gotten here before—”

A shriek pierced the market. All movement came to a full stop as heads whipped around to gawk at the commotion. Connor found the source, a small boy flat on his back, looking up in wide-eyed terror at a Minotaur, a mountain of brown fur and bulging muscles topped with wide-set white horns. Behind him, the boy’s parents clutched each other, unable to move. The humongous creature stamped his hooves and snorted at the family.

“What did you call me?” The creature bellowed, taking a ground-shaking step.

“I’m, I’m really… sorry… Mr. Bull?” the boy stammered.

The Minotaur roared and raised a cinderblock-sized fist over his head. Before Connor could even think to act his mother dashed past him. She skidded to a halt between the boy and the beast and threw up both hands as the Minotaur swung. His fist collided with air and rebounded back. He tossed his head and growled at Sally.

“That’s enough,” she said in a firm, motherly tone.

“He called me a cow!”

Sally looked back at the family. They hadn’t moved an inch, and the boy looked ready to lose his lunch. “Look at them,” she lectured. “You can see they’ve never been here before.”

The Minotaur loomed over her and flexed his massive arms. “Don’t need you in my business you–”

“I won’t let you bully these poor people.” A flickering flame appeared in her palm.

Connor stood transfixed. The Minotaur bristled at the word “bully,” but his eyes shifted from Sally’s face to the swirling fire in her hand. He snorted again and stomped off, muttering to himself with his tail swishing back and forth behind him.

“Ok, Mom, I take back every time I said you weren’t cool,” Connor gushed.

Sally’s shoulders sagged and she let out a held breath. The fire disappeared from her hand and she helped the boy to his feet, then held out the previously burning hand to the boy’s father. “I’m sorry about that. This place usually isn’t so rough. I’m Sally McTaggart.”

The man looked at her hand for a full five seconds before taking it, then let go after a single shake. “Hector Clarke, and my wife, Rose. Oh, and this is our youngest son, Garrett.”

“First time at the Undermarket?” Sally asked.

“Yes,” Hector said, discomfort plain on his face. “Garrett had… problems. A strange man found us and told us about a school. Mattson? He said we should enroll Garrett and we could find what we would need here. Are you a…?” he trailed off.

“A Magi. Yes. Are you local? I’d be happy to show Garrett around. I could bring him home after we’re done. I’m sure this is a lot to take in."

Garrett’s parents both exhaled huge sighs of relief. They quickly exchanged information with Sally, gave Garrett some money, and then hurried off. They never even said goodbye. Garrett still looked sick.

“Um… hi?” Garrett whispered.

Connor couldn’t hold back a giant, giddy smile. “What did you say to piss off the minotaur?”

“Connor, at least introduce yourself first!”

“Sorry, I’m Connor. I’m going to Mattson, too.”

“It’s a magical school?” Garrett said, still trembling.

“It’s a normal school. You just learn magic there. A bunch of witches started it out in the woods near Philly a few hundred years ago.”

“Magic is really real? I know I just saw magic and monsters but I just, I...” Garrett struggled to form words and catch his breath.

Sally put a reassuring hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “Garrett, can anyone else in your family do magic?”

Garrett shook his head no.

“That happens. I’m sure there are some Magi somewhere in your family, but if it skipped a generation or two, they may have kept it a secret. You’ll do fine, though.” The beep of a truck backing up drew all their attention. “There’s the bookstore. Come on, if we hurry, we can be first in line.”

They arrived as the back of the truck was thrown open by a stooped old man with a wisp of white hair on his ears. He gave them a brisk greeting and finished setting up a long table while shelves of books floated out of the truck behind him followed by a crate of sleek black tablets. Satisfied with his work, he pulled up a chair and sat across the table from them.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hightower. This is my son, Connor, and his friend. They’re both about to start at Mattson so we need their books.”

Mr. Hightower scoffed and indicated the tablets before him. “Whole school’s gone digital, I’m afraid. Most of your books are on these. I hauled out a few interesting ones, but everything required is on these damn things.”

“That’s a shame,” Sally said. “I loved my old textbooks. What do we need to get them set up?”

“Well, freshmen take mostly the same classes first semester. Just let me know what elective they’re taking, and I’ll get it installed,” Mr. Hightower said with a pout.

“I’m taking Potions and Alchemy, Mr. Hightower,” Connor piped up. “Any chance I can cook something up tonight?”

Sally gave the bookseller a pleading look and he came to her rescue.

“Afraid not, young man. Back in the day I’d have sealed those books until you got to the school. These just don’t unlock for a few days; no magic needed.” Disappointment clung to his words. He turned his attention to Garrett. “And what about you?”

“I don’t know,” Garrett said. “I don’t know what my options are.”

“Not to worry. You’ll take Introductory Will Magic—telekinesis and the like—as well as Introductory Elemental Magic—your fire and water and lightning and whatnot. You have room for one elective. Your first semester options are Potions and Alchemy, Enchanting, or Summoning.”

“I don’t know what any of that is,” Garrett said, looking down at his feet.

“Well, let’s have a look at you.” Mr. Hightower took Garrett by the shoulders. The old man’s eyes glowed white and Garrett shuddered.

“W-w-what are you doing?”

“Testing you to see how much essence you’ve got, boy. Essence is like your magical muscles, I suppose. You’ve got a good enough amount. What did you do to draw the school’s attention?”

“I… blew up two computers,” Garret blushed. “And my mom’s phone. Then my brother’s laptop.”

“Sounds like you connect with non-magical objects. A future enchanter if ever I heard one. And don’t worry,” he added, rapping his gnarled knuckles on the tablet, “these are reinforced. You’re not the first Magi to run afoul of electronics. Anything else I can get you folks today? Please look at the books before you go,” he entreated them.

Connor browsed with Garrett and found a weighty tome titled “The Creature Compendium.” He flipped through the pictures—old ink sketches of plants with fangs and three-headed dogs—and was sold. Garrett’s tan skin paled when he looked at them.

Connor opened his tablet and poked at the folders on it: Magic 101, Elemental Magicks, A History of the Folk, The History of Magi, and The Science of Magic. True to the old bookseller’s word, none of the folders would open, but Connor didn’t care. He’d waited for this for a long time. He could manage a few more days.

“Oh, that’s right,” Connor’s mom said with a clap. “I owe you a birthday present.”

Connor grinned. He grabbed Garrett without explanation and dragged him halfway across the market down aisles and around tables at a mad pace. His mom caught up to them at a fold-out stand tented by shimmering cloaks and glowing scarves. Some of them moved of their own accord while others hung completely still. A table held wands and staves made of wood, metal and bone. There were curved daggers and rusted chains inside a locked glass case. An older woman shrouded in layers of cloth and bedecked with jewelry watched the boys with mild amusement.

“Oh hello, Mrs. McTaggart,” she said in a heavy accent. “I thought the boy looked somewhat familiar. He is very excited.”

“Yes, possibly too much,” Sally said with a stern look at her son. “Do you still have it?”

“Of course, dear.” She disappeared into her shop and returned with a faded leather glove, fingerless and tattered, with a flat ruby set into the back.

“What is that?” Garrett asked.

“It’s a focus glove,” Connor gushed. “An artifact.”

“I don’t know…”

“Right. An artifact is a… anything really, with a spell on it. This one lets you see all the essence—the magic—around you. Like this.”

Connor put on the glove and his vision exploded painfully into a nauseating world of colors. He couldn’t make sense of the rainbow assault on his senses. Blues and greens and grays whirled and spun in manic patterns around him while all the people in the crowded Undermarket glowed varying hues. He spun in circles until he collapsed to the ground. Sally plucked the glove off his hand and tucked it into her purse.

“Maybe save it for school?” She laughed. “Happy birthday, Connor.”

Connor groaned, still flat on his back.