It had been a while since Wil was under the scrutiny of a master craftsman. Thomas would be the first to admit he was no Ferrovani, but he was still a master of enchanting. Over the last four months, he’d lent his professional expertise to Wil’s ongoing project, and now came the time to determine whether Wil had succeeded or not.

Running his hand over the sleek metal exterior, Thomas hummed as he went over the enchantments one by one. Wil thought he had a strong wizard sense, but it paled in comparison to the enchanter’s. He could feel if lines were out of whack, or whether the metals and gem dust used in the construction would interact well. It wasn’t stronger, just more refined, and he’d been at it for fifteen minutes.

“Would you say something?” Wil asked, wiping the sweat from his brow. The workshop was always sweltering, and their little corner was tucked in the back. Even with the windows opened, it was sticky. “Tell me what I did wrong. I’m going crazy here!”

Everything drove Wil crazy lately. Month after month of being stuck at Marlowe Manor took their toll. The only times he got out were to meet with Pierce and discuss the investigation, who almost universally told him a date had yet to be set for the hearing. And no, he couldn't communicate with Harper Valley at all. Wil missed home, and the workshop had been the best distraction.

“Well,” Thomas said, patting the chassis, “I think that you’ve come a long way since you got here. Not everything is as streamlined as it could be. It’s got your signature style all over it in how things are layered and interact. You’re more creative than efficient, but…”

“But?”

Thomas grinned. “It’ll fly. And it’ll be fast and safe. More than likely.”

Wil let out a sigh of relief. After over a month of designing and learning more about master level enchanting, and then three months of construction and refinement, his newest project was close to finished. Overall, he thought it looked close to done.

The design had started as a bicycle that could fly, using elements of his carpet and the speeder sled he’d previously made. Further instruction and deliberations changed it into something Wil was proud of. The vehicle was designed after a diving hawk, wings swept back with lightning along its sides. The rider would sit on the back and control it with handles for both hands and feet.

It would be far more complex than driving a car and needed a few more tests, but this wasn’t something made for mass production. This was Wil’s pride and joy, the best thing he had to show for a third of a year stolen from him.

“I guess we better let people know it’s time for another test, huh?” Wil lifted it and turned it to face the door that would open out to the grounds.

“Yep!” Thomas smiled wickedly. “Do me a favor and don’t fall off. I have a lot of money riding on it being a success.”

“Betting on something you have direct input on is unethical, don’t you think?” Wil hit the button on the wall, and the door rose, showing perfectly cared for lawn.

“What do ethics have to do with a decent payday?” Thomas laughed and went out to the rest of the workshop, where plenty of people waited on them.

After the first month with only Thomas as his friend, others had taken a chance to talk to him. Wil could honestly say he was outclassed by most of them in terms of skill or brains. But time among the magical elite gave them time and room to appreciate his strengths and friendliness. At this point, over a dozen of the cream of the crop had wagers on whether his Thunderhawk would crash and burn or not.

Isom met him on the lawn, licking his chops. After several incidents involving scared maids and serving staff, Isom was allowed to hunt in the woods. He went out a few times a week and indulged himself. Whatever he’d eaten that day, Isom hadn’t been clean about it.

“It was a deer. A sweet little doe, who fought so her daughter could run away.” Isom purred and stretched. “I toyed with her and -- “

“Glad you had fun,” said Wil. It was uncomfortable sometimes, how passionate and detailed Isom could be about his love of dismembering his meals. “You’re not too full for a race, are you?”

Isom’s eye sparked with interest. “You’ll lose again, Wizard. Like you always do.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

It took Thomas about twenty minutes to gather all the people who’d wanted to attend. A little under twenty wizards and mages came out on the lawn outside the workshop to watch. Wil sat on the Thunderhawk, legs splayed out on either side to balance it. It had wheels on the bottom, but that’s where the resemblance to bikes ended.

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“What did you bet on, exactly?” Wil asked Thomas as he strapped his helmet on. “Perhaps I can make it happen.”

“No way,” Thomas feigned surprise. “Mr. Ethics talking about cheating at gambling? I’m in. Or at least, I would be if I wagered on anything rare. I bet that it would exceed all expectations and be a complete success. So be careful, don’t crash, and if you can circle the grounds in under a minute, I’ll…Well, I’ll not only split the prize with you, but I’ll help you with the patent.”

“Patent?” Wil wrinkled his nose. “This is for me. This is going to be way too dangerous to let anyone have.”

“Not just anyone.” Thomas held up a finger. “The military could use reconnaissance vehicles that are all terrain. This would do nicely for highly mobile messengers. No violence, just helping out.”

Wil shot him a look.

Thomas waved him off. “We’ll discuss it later. I swear, you gotta start looking after yourself. The important thing is to take it easy, and try to break the last flying machine speed record if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Tom,” Wil warned before shaking his head. There was no discouraging him. “I’ll do my best. No pressure, right?”

Thomas patted him and ran off to join the other spectators. Rand Sandoval was even there, watching with interest while he sucked on a fizzy drink through a straw. Most of the people were orbiting him, curious about his take on the reckless Mad McKenzie, as some had taken to calling him.

Isom sat a few feet away, four of his legs on the ground while the top two scratched behind his ear. “They don’t care if you succeed or fail,” he said. “They want something exciting.”

“I know,” said Wil. “So you ready to give them a show?”

The wampus cat puffed up importantly. “My audience awaits.” After the initial shock, he’d proven to be surprisingly popular with some of the braver wizards. He enjoyed many succulent treats in exchange for conversation. The predator was starting to get spoiled.

“Then when you see me move, give me something to chase.”

“I don’t like being prey,” Isom said haughtily.

“But you do love beef,” Wil returned. “The better the show, the more you eat.” Then he strapped on some goggles and leaned forward in the seat, leaning on one leg as he took the handles in his hands. He breathed in and out and extended his senses for the enchantments, lying dormant until the circuits were completed and brought it to life. Wil turned a key, completing the activation rune.

The Thunderhawk hummed to life, rising a foot off the ground. So far, so good. Wil made sure he was well balanced. Every little shift of his body or wrists made it list from side to side, ready to move. It wanted to move, and every second was like being poised at the height of a jump, ready to plummet.

That was the secret to this device, and what set it apart from the flying carpet. The Thunderhawk didn’t fly using magic. It didn’t really fly at all. Wil’s genius idea had been to propel it with earth magic. Using the magnetic core of the earth, he made himself perpetually fall forward, pushing against the planet.

“Here we go,” Wil whispered. He twisted the handles and leaned in, and the Thunderhawk shot forward. Isom took off beside him, six legs powering him ahead of the new craft. The wind tore at his clothes as he floated two feet off the ground now, moving as fast as a galloping horse.

Faster and faster he went, until Isom trailed behind. The wampus cat leaped into the air and teleported forward, falling behind once more until it teleported again. Isom zigged in and out of Wil’s way as the wizard laughed. The twist in his stomach never went away, and neither did the joy.

They cut across fields of emerald green, right by one of the flower gardens. Petals swirled in their wake, torn from the plants as he passed. Wil screamed as he went faster than the fastest train. The lake came into view. He twisted the handles and turned, body tilting sideways but clinging to the seat as he flew over the water, rending a turbulent line in the surface. He spun around and followed the boundaries of the property.

So many times Wil had come to the border and debated stepping over the lines, just to see what would happen. Would alarms suddenly scream? Would someone come after him immediately? Now here he was, on a working vehicle he knew went fast, over all terrain, and would have enough power to take him across the continent.

He thought of Bram, and how terrified he’d be to even think of riding the Thunderhawk. He’d be as excited as Wil for the construction and the work involved, and he’d never, ever fly it. Darlene would, but she would cling to him and scream the entire time, loving every second of it. His heart lurched.

Months with no word, no way to tell them he was okay. No way to check on them, or his parents, or anyone. The edges of the boundary whooshed by him, and the next corner came into view.

It would be so easy. He had enough strength and usefulness he could likely make his way home, but they’d never stop hunting him. It wasn’t worth it. Wil swallowed and turned around, pulling back and slowing down as he reached the assembled wizards.

He drifted to a stop in front of Rand, stepping off the Thunderhawk and kicking out the stop to keep it upright. Isom appeared into view a few seconds later, crashing along the ground and panting heavily.

You left me! He cried at Wil as he fought to gain his breath. He seemed happy enough though, flopping down next to Wil.

Thomas ran up to him, laughing and grabbing him in a one armed hug. “You did it, McKenzie! Well, almost. You were out there for like two minutes.”

Wil thought of the border, and the call to go home. He smiled and bowed to some of the applause and sharp whistles sent his way.

“Let’s do it again then. Double or nothing, under a minute.”