Ty

American Ty Sterling, a wizard prodigy who earned his Master Wizard level at seventeen is seeking a break from academics when he moves to the wizard village on the Scottish coast. Too young to do the work he’s trained for—magical defense—Ty decides to spend a few years pursuing his dream of living at the sea. Only once he arrives in his grandparent’s hometown, he discovers ocean sailing is nothing like lake sailing, and mariner skills aren’t the most important thing he has to learn if he’s going to be part of this tight-knit community.

To stick it out (and not face his next oldest sister who will say ‘I told you so’) he applies for the one job in town he’s well qualified for—thanks to his parents wanting their five children to have the experience of living on a farm—milking cows. He finds milking—at least not by hand this time—and delivering the dairy products has gotten him a foot in the door at Tern Bay.

The slender fellow wore a white work shirt and dungarees instead of the customary baker’s smock. He had a red bandanna tied around his head, almost like a pirate’s headgear.

“What are you about?” she asked.

He jerked up, hitting his head on the shelf above. It tilted and bottles of cream slid forward. Before Coral could scamper around the table to help, he swore and threw up his hands. Silver energy flowed onto everything cascading off the shelf. Bottles, butter and a bowl of something halted and hung suspended in the magical, but unfamiliar gel-like substance.

Pressing the crown of his head, the stranger straightened and snapped, “I am—or was—stocking the refrigerator. Do you mind?”

He stood only inches taller than she did, had a tight muscular build, and dark brown hair, from the look of his tensed eyebrows and the one dark lock escaping the bandana above a long face half in a scowl, half in a grimace of pain.

Coral had backed to the door at the sight of the bizarre magic. But it was his eyes that silenced her.

Their gazes locked and Coral could only gape at the silver irises fixed steadily on hers, irises so light they almost melted into the surrounding whites. They couldn’t be, but there, glinting in the light they were, undeniably, silver. Oh, black magic.

Luckily, wearing white is one of the few old-time dairyman traditions Ty’s employer still uses. As for conveniences, Dar is fairly modern, a good thing, because Ty spent the last three years living in North America’s largest wizard city, Terraqua. Because HIT’s primary research facility is located there, most modern products are released and tested nearby before being offered to other enclaves. In some cases, it takes a long while for them to reach and be accepted in the more remote areas. So Ty, with his human-style clothing and modern machines, stands out.

A rumbling sound grew louder, causing both to turn in its direction. A motorized scooter was coming slowly down the ramp from town. Motorized vehicles of any kind were unusual in their settlements, especially one as small as this, where a ten-minute walk would get you from one end of town to the other, if you didn’t choose to pop yourself there instead. Of course, public use of magic wasn’t technically allowed. Scooters were. Long ago someone had one and during fests vendors often brought them in for hauling stuff. But this wasn’t a vendor’s scooter—it was new. The red paint shone without a scratch and the sunlight glinted off the chrome stripe, accents and mirrors. The small black tires easily swung around the tight corner and pulled up to the delivery platform where they stood.

A fellow in a different kind of black shirt—very smooth looking—and black canvas pants stared back at them, his thick brown hair settling in a wind-blown fluff like a cape over his ears. Meeting his silver eyes, Coral realized with a start it was the new dairyman from the bakery. Ty. He cut the motor and nodded to her, but remained seated astride the scooter.