The Owl-Headed Wand

By Daniel Peyton

In the land of Yohan, James knows one painful truth above all others — orphans never become apprentices. Abandoned by his parents at eight, James is homeless and alone, with only a gang of delinquents as companions until he is taken in by the kindly Master Wand-maker Othano.

Under Othano's tutelage, James begins to learn all he can about the history of wands and Yohan. However, his newfound peace and security is threatened by a growing revolution and Othano's disappearance. Now branded a traitor, James must find Othano, escape the revolutionaries, clear their names, and discover the secrets of The Owl-Headed Wand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prince of Cats Literary Productions
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781952825798

Book preview

Chapter 1 Header

What luck—the Master Wand-Maker had left a window ajar to let in the cool evening breeze. James’s breath trembled as he crept through the open window—at twelve years old, he could fit, while the older kids could not. A table jostled, the glass trinkets on it rattling ever so slightly as he bumped into it. He stopped, holding his breath. Fortunately, the unexpected noise was hardly enough to wake a sleeping mouse. He calmed his nerves, though he was still racked with worry.

James found a cold torch on a sconce, removed it, and whispered, Eldr, in such a low voice that he hardly heard it. Moving the torch closer to his face, he attempted the spell again. "Eldr. This time the whisper came out a bit louder. Nothing happened. He let out a tiny whine as he fought his nerves. He tried a third time. Fire!" This whisper was hardly lower than his speaking voice. A spark sprang out of the cold center, then another, but that was it. Only two pitiful little sparks came from his attempt at the spell. So, instead of carrying around a useless tool, he placed it back on the sconce.

By now, his eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out shapes around the room. Although he still couldn’t see much, at least he wouldn’t be bumping into tables, plus he might even find his prize.

I can do this...I can do this... he repeated to himself as he slid his feet over the floor, looking for the case. I hope Barth was right. It better be here.

He stopped at a workbench against the back wall where tools hung from nails; however, he couldn’t make out what they were. On the bench, he spotted a small satchel. It was flat, made of leather, with a leather cord tied around it. He gasped when he pressed down on it, able to feel what was inside.

This is it! he whispered, too loudly. Holding his breath for a moment, he waited to hear if anyone was alerted by his foolish outburst. Nothing happened—he was safe.

As he grabbed the satchel, he knocked a folded piece of paper to the ground. He was so nervous; all he could think was that the random paper on the ground would give away that he had been there. He didn’t even consider the fact that a missing set of expensive wands would be an obvious giveaway. He snatched the paper, shoved it in his pocket, slinking back to the way he came in. The window was considerably harder to leave through than it was to get in, mostly due to the set of shelves under it. They held bottles of potions that would break easily if he stepped on them wrong, and he didn’t have time to move them.

A wash of relief rushed through him as his foot met the gravel and stones of the street. Cold, damp air tickled his nose with each foggy exhale. Sliding along the rough wall, he avoided the moonlight. His objective was the gate; from there he was free.

James rushed into the alley, then slapped his back up against a stone wall. His face was deep red; he had a sheen of sweat all over him. The throbbing of his heart still banged in his ears, rattling his frayed nerves. He tried to breathe normally; however, the fear that gripped his lungs prevented anything but a trembling exhale each time.

Did you get them? a red-haired elf boy asked.

James just about jumped clear over the building. Barth! You scared me.

Within moments, he was surrounded by a group of teens.

Shut up. Did you get them? the large, heavyset boy in ragged clothes hissed. He was a Fire Elf with bright orange-and-red hair, up in spikes. Behind him stood three street urchins who James recognized as witches, like himself.

James held up the satchel. I found it—a full wand case.

Barth swiped it out of James’s hand, then peered at it, his eyes glued to the prize. This is worth a fortune! Did he have them out, right where you could just snatch them?

Yeah, on the bench in the workroom. Like you said. How’d you know?

I got ears like everybody else. I was in his shop, snoopin’ around. Heard some wealthy elf orderin’ ’em. Best kinds, too, the whole package.

A boy named Nordi begged, Come on, show ’em!

Barth untied the cord, opened the satchel, which revealed a set of seven wands, each tucked into a little slip, not unlike a knife case. Each wand was a different color, with unique designs. Look at ’em. Ain’t they pretty? Barth petted them with one hand, while the other kids were practically drooling.

Are ya sure they’s enchanted? one of them asked.

Barth gained the most devilish gleam in his eyes. Only one way to find out. He slipped out one that was solid silver in hue. This one is going to be the Levitation Wand. They all use the silver paint for that wand.

James asked, What are you going to levitate?

You. Barth pointed the wand at James and said, Levitate! James lifted off the ground.

Put me down! James yelled as his body slowly turned over. He flailed his arms and legs, twisted his body right and left.

Make me! Barth taunted. Go on, stop my spell. It’s easy. Anyone can do it!

Barth! Stop it! James’s voice echoed down the alley. The piece of paper he had grabbed fell out of his pocket.

What’s this? Barth asked.

Nordi ran over to pick it up. It’s just some bit of paper. Got writin’ on it.

Gimme that! Barth yanked the paper out of the boy’s hand. You can’t read, but I can. Let’s see... He turned the paper over several times, while keeping James floating helplessly above the ground.

Baaaarth! James whined.

Shut up! Barth squinted at the paper. What the dragon spit is an Owl Wand?

Dunno. Nordi shrugged.

Looks powerful. I’ll tell Uxi.

Suddenly another spell hit James, flopping him back onto the ground. Barth frowned at his wand. I didn’t do that.

What do we have here? a man said, surprising the whole gang. He was in warlock robes, holding out a green wand.

Barth gasped. It’s the Wand-Maker! He scrambled to change wands, but he dropped the stolen satchel causing the whole lot hit the ground.

The Wand-Maker calmly approached; his wand still held out. Give me back the wands and I won’t do anything to you.

Shut up, old man! Barth grabbed a red wand then thrust it out. Eldr! A torrent of flames exploded off the tip.

The Wand-Maker simply used his green wand to redirect the spell which sent the flames harmlessly into the sky. Now, now. Don’t burn yourselves. That’s dangerous magic.

I know what I’m doing! Barth cast another spell with the Fire Wand, only this time it was an explosive ball.

The Wand-Maker redirected this one as well, sending it around himself and back at the boys, causing it to explode against a wall. The blast did no harm, but the gaggle of cowardly bullies screamed and ran, leaving their leader behind. With a flick of his wrist, the Wand-Maker unrolled his own wand satchel pinned to the inside of his robes. He sidestepped a third fire attack from Barth, letting it go right past him. He swiftly pulled out a purple wand, starting a spell at the same time. A purple bubble formed in the air, then popped. Thick goo hit both Barth and James. Barth hit the ground; James was still down. The goo vanished, but they were stuck in place as if glued down. Barth’s hands and feet were stuck to the surface, while only James’s feet were fixed in place.

James attempted to pull up his legs to no avail, then tried also using his hands to try to dislodge this strange spell. After admitting defeat to himself, he noticed a green wand right next to him. The Disenchantment Wand from the case he had stolen was now beside him. He grabbed it, pointing it at his feet. Slita! Slita! Come on, Slita! Each time, the tip of the wand would spark, but nothing happened. This basic counter-spell should’ve undone the binding on him, but he couldn’t make it work.

A deep shadow fell over him, blocking out the moonlight. He looked up to see the Wand-Maker. The man gazed down at Barth, who struggled like a trapped pig. The boy even whined and snorted a few times as he tried to release his hands from the binding against the cobblestones. The Wand-Maker said, The Constabulary will be here soon. I’m sure they’ll find a good place for you to learn a lesson.

Let me go! Barth yelled.

The Wand-Maker turned to James, who still fought with the green wand. You’re the one who broke into my workshop.

James looked up, trembling all over. He dropped the green wand and bowed his head. Sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me.

Coward! Barth yelled.

The Wand-Maker slowly gathered the scattered wands from the stolen satchel. You need help.

Tears welled in James’s eyes. Are...are you going to send me to prison?

The Wand-Maker bent over to pick up the green wand that James had been trying to use. He pointed it at James. Slita. A thin magical beam hit James where he was bound by the spell, and the spell broke.

James didn’t move. Please, I don’t want to go to prison. I...

The Wand-Maker stood up and held out a hand. Come with me.

James spent a moment pondering this, then obliged, using the offered hand to get to his feet. Without another word, the Wand-Maker walked back the direction he’d come from. James didn’t go immediately; he spent a moment looking down at Barth.

Get me up! Barth yelled.

Are you coming? the Wand-Maker paused to ask.

James finally followed the man back toward the home he had just burglarized. As they walked, Barth yelled, fighting against his restraints.

When they got to the front gate of the home, James gasped and froze as two elf constables came forward. They were Wind Elves, the native elf-kind of this area. Each held glowing white orbs that gave them light to see by.

Master Othano, you called for us?

The Wand-Maker nodded. Yes. I was burglarized tonight, but I apprehended the perpetrators.

James trembled so badly, he felt as though he would collapse, but not before he threw up. A million thoughts ran through his head at the same time. He saw himself being carried off by these elves, bound by magic. He saw the penitentiary where he would spend the rest of his life. He saw himself being beat up by Barth in prison, punishment for being captured. Suddenly he grabbed the arm of the Wand-Maker pleadingly, Please!

One of the elves moved his white orb over to shine light on James. Is this one of them, sir?

Master Othano shook his head. No, the boy responsible for the burglary is down that alley behind my workshop. He is bound to the ground. Please take him away. I’ll be around in the morning to submit a statement.

Understood, sir. The elves left them, proceeding on to do their duty.

James still trembled as he stood in astonishment. Both he and Master Othano watched the elf constables leave. James finally found the words to ask, Why did you say that? I’m the one who broke in.

My boy, sometimes we are led to make poor choices because of poor company. I believe in mercy. Sometimes that means letting someone learn their lesson the hard way; however, sometimes it means giving someone a chance to prove themselves. Now, do come with me. I would gather that you need a warm place to sleep tonight. It is late.

Yes, sir. I would like that very much.

James assumed it would be impossible to get any sleep after what had happened. He slipped his shoes off then sank deep into the thick mattress stuffed with feathers. The pillow hugged his head’ the comforter was made of a fabric he had never felt before.

Master Othano stepped into the room. Are you comfortable?

Yes. This is the softest bed I’ve ever lay on, sir, James said.

Othano laughed, carefully placing a small jar on the nightstand. He removed the lid then waved some of the aroma around. This room is dusty as it hasn’t been used for a long time. This should help with that stale smell.

James knew the smell of snowmint. It was the main ingredient in sleeping potions. Othano wanted him to have a good night’s rest.

Thank you, it smells nice.

Othano bid him good night then left. Soon, the gentle aroma of snowmint helped him drift into a deep sleep.

He awoke the next morning long after the sun had risen. The streets outside were bustling. The smell of freshly cooked meat and bread was even better than the smell of snowmint.

James bounded out of bed. He put his shirt on then ran for the door. The moment his hand met the handle, though, he paused. That wonderful-smelling breakfast was not for him; this wasn’t his home. It was the home of a man he had wronged. The man was too nice. This all seemed too good to be true. It had to be a setup, a ploy. Master Othano had probably called the Elf Guard that morning, treating them to a nice breakfast as he waited for James to wake up. The Elf Guard would take him into custody as the one who actually committed the burglary, hauling him off to prison. It was so late last night when he’d been caught—obviously it was too late for the Guard to come around. Those two constables were nobody; they just handled the riffraff in the streets, not the true burglars. He was the bigger criminal, facing hard time. Yes, this was certainly too good to be true, so he needed to act quickly to avoid that awful fate.

James went to the window then tried to grip the bottom with his fingers and pull up. Using all his strength, he pulled on the window, his face turning a deep red in the process. All he got was ten sore fingers and a still-closed window.

Fine, if you refuse to open normally, then I’ll just break through. James grabbed a large book from a shelf, hoisted it up on his arms like he was about to toss a giant stone, tightened his lips so he wouldn’t yell as he lurched forward, then threw the book against the window. The poor book bounced off, hitting the floor with a thud, scattering dusty pages at James’s feet. The only thing to successfully break was the binding of the old book.

Stupid book. Stupid window, James muttered to himself, searching for another way to escape. He had a brilliant idea. Where are the wands? He searched shelves, behind the dresser, even inside a few of the larger books. What kind of wand-maker is this guy? Where are all the wands? James had always thought that the home and workshop of a wand-maker would be littered with extra wands. Yet there wasn’t a spare wand to be found. The only nearly magical item was the tiny pot of snowmint extract, which would do him little good.

No, wait, he said to himself, grabbing up the little pot of essential oil. It just might do the trick. If a little whiff of it could put him to sleep, perhaps he could throw it at this wand-maker or the Guard as they tried to apprehend him, to hopefully knock them out. Then, he could just waltz right out of this place to go into hiding again. Brilliant!

Holding the small pot of oil, he slowly opened the door. The handle creaked with the gentle turning. Peeking outside, he found no one in the short hallway. He was in the clear. Stepping out, he first glanced at the bathroom then winced—he really had to go. He had just gotten up after a long night’s sleep, however, they could trap him in there. No, he would just have to hold it.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, he peered around everything, sure that someone could be behind each potted plant or small bookcase. Even out here, he could find spell books and other items, yet still no wands.

At the end of the hall, he found himself at a T. One way led to a place where the smell of breakfast was really strong. The other direction was back into the workshop. That would be the best place to go. He knew he could get out one of those windows—he had done so last night. Now that it was light, he could certainly see his way to get out. Besides, there should be at least one wand in there.

He heard voices coming from the kitchen. A woman said, Just like I said, the Summer Pixies are sure that the Fire Elves have no clue where to find it.

Now he heard Master Othano speaking. Are the Fire Elves poking around the Grove?

No. Still, the pixies at the Grove are warning me every day that the Fire Elves are on the brink of something.

You don’t think they’ll attack?

The woman said, I don’t know. That would be foolish. They have no wands.

James had no idea what they were talking about. The fact they were busy, though, gave him a chance to escape. He crept into the workshop, making certain he was alone. It was empty, further, the window was still ajar. His clear path to freedom lay before him. He didn’t look for a wand—he just ran for the window.

Good morning. Master Othano’s voice startled James.

He turned and threw the contents of the oil jar. He missed entirely, splashing a workbench near the door. Master Othano had a warm smile as he examined the results of that failed attack. Ah, the snowmint oil. You wouldn’t be trying to put me to sleep, would you?

James felt his heart sink. He had been caught. He stood there, still holding the little jar. For a brief moment, his eyes darted around, looking for a spare wand of some kind. I...uh...I...

It wouldn’t have worked. The oil’s sleeping properties are only instantaneous when used in a potion or spell. The aroma just relaxes you. Othano walked into the room, his long robes flowing around him. Now, where were you going?

I was just...I... James felt his brain failing him. How did he explain himself now?

Then, his biggest fears were realized. A fully decorated female Elf Guard stepped through the doorway behind Othano. She was a tall, striking woman with long, straight white hair. Master Othano, is something wrong?

James’s heart raced, his breath was short, his bladder failed him. He wet himself, then fell to his knees as he held his hands over his head. Please don’t take me! Please don’t take me!

What’s going on? the Guard asked.

Othano knelt down near James to put a hand on his trembling shoulder. Commander Gile, please go back into the sitting area. I have this under control. Everything is fine.

Are you sure?

Yes.

As you wish, sir. The elf left the room.

James wept, ashamed of his condition. He was a criminal who’d wet himself in front of two grown-ups.

Othano spoke in a kind, soft voice. It’s okay, don’t be frightened.

James wanted to declare his apologies, to beg for mercy, yet all he could do was cry. Finally, he found the words to say, I’m sorry I broke into your home. Please, don’t let them take me away.

I see. You think that Commander Gile is here to take you away. That’s not the case. She was here to get my statement about what happened last night, including what I would want done to those who wronged me.

James did not look up. But I’m the one who wronged you.

True. However, I suspect you were encouraged by those other boys, the mean-spirited children who were bullying you when I arrived. Is that true?

Yes. Barth wanted the wands. He said he’d teach me magic if I got them.

Ah. Well, I told the nice Commander in there to take those boys to a place where they could be punished appropriately. I also told her they were the ones who stole the wands. You may have taken them, but in my eyes, they were the true burglars.

James finally looked up at this, his eyes bright red, his face almost as wet as his trousers. You...you told her that?

Yes. However, I do believe you need some punishment, which is why I’m going to tell your parents what you did, then let them deal with you as parents should.

I don’t have parents, or a home.

Oh, I see, Othano said, as though he already knew. Then we do have a problem. You need to learn your lesson as well as pay me back for what you did.

James gulped, his arms still grasping his knees in an effort to hide his shame. I’m an orphan, sir. I can’t pay nothing.

Othano seemed to give this some thought, then said, How about this. You can work for me here to pay your debt.

How?

I’m an old man. I need some basic work done around the workshop and my home. Cleaning, organizing, that sort of stuff. I’ll let you have that room you slept in last night, plus you’ll get meals. You can work off your debt for breaking in and stealing from me.

Goose bumps prickled all over James as he became short of breath. For a moment, he wondered if he were still sleeping, that this was just some wonderful dream. Sure that he was awake, James finally found the words to say, Why?

Othano smiled at him. How old are you?

I’m twelve, sir.

Twelve. That is quite young. That boy you were with, the Fire Elf, I know of him. He’s sixteen...

James corrected him, Barth’s seventeen, sir.

Oh, my mistake. He’s seventeen, and those other kids with you have been running around with him in these streets for years. You’re young. When I saw you last night, I knew that you weren’t part of their little gang of miscreants. They need some time in the tender care of the Jade Elf educators. You don’t. I hate to see children like them running loose, just causing trouble. You don’t need to become another one. Perhaps working off your debt will teach you some lessons. That is, if you accept the offer. Otherwise, I can let Commander Gile take you with Barth, so you can repay your debt some other way.

No, no. I accept, I promise, I accept.

Othano laughed. I thought you might. Now, let’s go have some breakfast.

Sir, I...uh...

Is there something wrong?

James finally found the courage to stand up to show what he had done. I...um...

Oh, I see. That is a pity. Come with me. I think I still have some robes that my last apprentice wore. You can change into them, while I have your clothes cleaned. Othano led him out of the workshop and back down the hallway.

James went back to the room he had slept in, finding some basic apprentice robes in the dresser. The sight of them made him smile. These were the traditional garb of young apprentice witches, a dream of his. Pulling on the pants, he nearly fell as he stepped on the cuffs. Stuffing them into his dirty old shoes, he looked at the slightly ballooning pants in the mirror. This isn’t so bad.

Next, he pulled on the large tunic, which had woven colors and embroidered designs on it. The primary color was a sandy brown with patches of green fabric, the traditional colors of the Craftsman School of Magic. The former apprentice would have been learning to make magical tools, like wands. However, it wasn’t the colors or the patterns he stared at, it was the way the base of it hung nearly to his knees, plus his hands didn’t come out from the sleeves. The last apprentice must have been older than him, or at least bigger. He shoved the sleeves up, bunching them near his upper arm. Clamping down his arms, he held the thick mass of fabric under each armpit. This only held until he had to move his arms, then the sleeves came tumbling back down past his fingers. This isn’t going to work.

Just then, a light rapping on the door came, followed by Othano saying, James, may I come in?

Yes, sir.

Othano stepped in, immediately chuckling. Oh my. I had forgotten how big those were.

James held up the flopping sleeves. I can’t wear this.

Reviews for The Owl-Headed Wand

[Jo William · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Fantastic book. This has to be one of the best coming-of-age books I have ever read. I rooted for James from the first page until the last. He had so much hardships, but he was also given love and hope and a family. If you like YA fantasy, this book is an absolute jewel.