The Wizard of High Tower

        In the simple, unadorned village of High Tower, New Jersey, there lay a twin pair of grand arches, yellow as the sun and resonant with power. These arches and the stronghold they protected were legendary, and those in the kingdom believed they guarded the home of the Golden Heart, the final resting place of the Last Earth Queen. It generated the highest concentration of magical power in ten centuries as a wellspring of supernatural potency. Ancient texts foretold that even being close to the stronghold could grant wishes beyond all imagination, assuage all desires, and leave witches and wizards capable of performing the most complicated spellwork. Those who were granted positions in the arches’ embrace as stewards of its power were only of the highest magical status. 

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        “Welcome to McDonald’s, can I interest you in our McValue menu this evening?” 

        “DAVID MCDANIELS! JUNIOR MANAGER OF THE MCDONALD’S ON 44 TOWER LANE, I ISSUE THEE A QUEST!” 

        “Mortimer, I don’t have time for this. You either have to order something or move along. I told you, I have school. No quests.” 

        The old man faltered. “How’d you know it was me?” He was gray-bearded and scraggly and reaching way too much torso out of his Honda Civic to shout into the drive-through speaker. 

        “You’re the only wizard in town, Mortimer,” sighed the seventeen-year-old employee who was pitifully stuck with the night shift. 

        “Ah, indeed I am. Fantastic deduction! As expected, David McDaniels, you are certainly the chosen! Now, stand and accept thy fate. The moon stars will not be entranced by just anyone!” 

        “Mortimer, you’ve sent me on three other quests this semester. I can’t go to Atlantis or the Nightmare Realm again—I’m already barely passing calculus, and I have college applications due in like a month. And I can’t keep missing shifts.” 

        “Stop being obtuse, child. The journey beckons! The world needs heroes! Where’s thy sense of honor!” 

        “Somewhere with the fae, probably! They took all my socks in January, remember? Look, man. It was fun and all, but I need to get serious. I’m not a kid anymore, and my mom doesn’t sleep when I’m away.” 

        “We can talk about your darling mother and her fantastic lasagna on the way to the Forbidden Isle. We will see the symphony-woven aquatic vessels and the stained glass wings of the Whale of Wonder, my boy. Simply magnificent, you must come, no excuses. Destiny waits for no one, David McDaniels, Chosen of The Kingdom of New Jersey.” There was a honk from the gigantic truck three cars back in line—“Oh, for magic’s sake, BE PATIENT”—and the static on receiver went silent. 

        “David?” The ancient wizard pulled at his long velvet sleeves, which were caught on some lever by his steering wheel. “Are you still there?” 

        The machine crackled—“The usual, right? It’s $9.89. Pull up to the window.” 

        Mortimer sighed, and some sort of resistance left with his breath. He folded himself back into the car and pulled forward, the ancient cobbles of the fast-casual stronghold glowing purple (they tended to react to magical potency) and shooting out sparks, as if to console the defeated magician. 

        He reached the counter and lay his head face down on his steering wheel in shame. It wasn’t often a wizard gave up. “Do you accept gold?” 

        “Still me, Mortimer—and you know we switched to the dollar a century ago.” 

        The wild-eyed wizard shifted onto his right cheek, peeking up at the dark-skinned and incredibly broad teenager, his shoulder-length black hair tangled between his stupidly round glasses and his company-issued headset. High Sorcerer Mortimer the Wild humphed and passed his credit card between two fingers to his apprentice. 

        David rolled his eyes, swiping the card and grabbing the wizard’s meal. “I get off at eleven. But I might be a minute since it’s so busy.” 

        “You’ll come?!” Mortimer shot up so fast, the car honked, and David, arm already halfway out the window, let the Happy Meal slip through his fingers. 

        “Damn! I’ll grab you another one, sorr—” the chosen one trailed off as the smiling box, surrounded in a twinkling blue aura, floated up and into the hands of the grinning wizard. 

        “Magic, David!” 

        “Yeah, right, whatever. Now, what were you saying about a Wonder Whale?” 

        “All in good time, my boy. Your sword’s in my trunk. We leave at midnight!”

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