The Necromancer: The Reluctant Apprentice

by Rani Clark

  “I know, I can hear.” He looked down, “By the way, I am Vladimir Ragnar. The gentleman who touched you is Elias Kircher. Your name?”

  “Jaska Byrne.” At this point, not telling these people his name could end up as more of a pain than anything else. “You sound like Dracula.”

  Elias Kircher burst out laughing as he walked in carrying a box, “He’s right, Mr. Lugosi.”

  Jaska watched as he took out a stone mortar and pestle. Jars filled with powders and liquids followed. Mr. Kircher began to pour and mix, measuring things with his eyes. Jaska glanced at Mr. Ragnar who was watching with a look of irritation on his face. “You don’t want to do this either. You don’t have to.”

  “I don’t want to, but I have to. Sit still, Jaska,” he snapped.

  The commanding tone made him freeze. He stopped fidgeting as if he was a child being scolded by a parent. “He isn’t human. What is he?” He was willing to bet that Mr. Ragnar wasn’t either, but he didn’t want to ask.

  “He was human once. He was bitten by a werewolf.”

  “Werewolf?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mr. Kircher looked up from his work, “On my arm, actually. Dumb thing attacked me.”

  “You turn into a monster at the full moon.”

  Mr. Kircher giggled, “I’m a monster all year round, cutie!” he replied with a wink.

  “Before he came here, Mr. Kircher lived in Australia. He was on his way to work and he was attacked by a werewolf.”

  “Why not stay in Australia?”

  “Mr. Kircher’s predilections are unpleasant to put it mildly and he was forced to move or be caught.”

  “Predilections?”

  “I can’t help myself around little boys.” He shrugged, “Fifteen year olds mostly. How old are you, Jaska?”

  The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable now. Jaska shivered. These two talked about this like it was normal. “Do you change shape at the full moon?”

  “Yes. It’s pretty painful. All my bones cracking and rearranging themselves. It makes me sick every time.” Mr. Kircher poured red liquid into the mortar and ground it in until he had made a paste. “Nearly done. You know, this will cost you a little extra. Either that or ten minutes in my play-time closet.”

  Mr. Ragnar glanced down at Jaska, “I don’t think so.”

  Jaska breathed a sigh of relief, but he still didn’t like the way Mr. Kircher was looking at him. “What is that you’re making?”

  “It’s a binding spell. Just relax and let me work my magic.”

  He shuddered at the sentence. That was exactly what so many children had heard before being hurt by this monster. Coming here had been a huge mistake. He had been happy. For once he had been content with his life and he had screwed that up. Mr. Kircher looked down at the mixture before heading back into the kitchen.

  “It just has to cook for a few minutes!” he called. “Anyone want a drink?” He poked his head around the corner, “Jaska? I’m sure you are quite thirsty.”

  “Um, no thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Mr. Kircher came back into the room and sat back down on the chair. He turned his head, “You said your last name was Byrne? Any relation to Mina and Byron?”

  “They’re my grandparents.”

  “Oh. Did they warn you about me?”

  “Do they know you’re a . . . what you are?”

  “I don’t think they know. I think they suspect though. Most people are friendly enough towards me, but not them.”

  “My grandparents are pretty smart.” Her mother took after her parents in that way. She could tell a lot about a person just by looking at them.

  “I don’t think they liked the way I looked at the neighbor boy,” he remarked quietly with a smile.

  Mr. Ragnar raised an eyebrow, “Is that concoction done yet?”

  Mr. Kircher nodded and stood. Jaska swallowed hard and looked up at Mr. Ragnar, “I don’t want to do this,” he told him quietly.

  “I know you don’t.” He looked down at him, his stern eyes making Jaska shudder, “For the record, this is no walk in the park for me either. I don’t wish to hurt you, but you saw something that you were not meant to see. There are people in this world and the next that would like to kill me and your information would be very useful to them. They would torture you for it.”

  “You’re doing this to save me?”

  “Something like that.”

  Mr. Kircher came back in holding a spray bottle. He held it out for Mr. Ragnar, “Ok, there you go. I will require extra payment, as I said. I’m not giving this away.”

  Mr. Ragnar reached into his pocket and took out a handful of notes. He handed them over without counting them and took the spray bottle.

  “Much obliged. Do you want me to hold him while you spray or what?”

  “I don’t want you to touch him at all.” Mr. Ragnar unlocked the bottle and stepped to stand closer to Jaska’s back, “Hold out your left hand.”

  “If I don’t?”

  “I’ll have Mr. Kircher make you.”

  Jaska knew he had no way out of this. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t scream. With a sigh of resignation, he held out his left hand. The spray that hit him was boiling hot and absorbed into his skin as a pounding, sharp pain sprang up from his wrist and crawled into his chest. He opened his mouth to scream, but Mr. Ragnar slammed his hand over his mouth to keep him from it. After what felt like an hour of screeching pain it dulled into a throb so that he could breathe. Sweat ran down his face as he panted. When he lifted his hand up he saw a mark there. The gray outline of a skull had appeared there. It went from the edge of his palm to his wrist.

  “What-what is this?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s a contract. You’re my apprentice now.”

  Jaska felt tears welling up in his eyes. He looked down and began to sob, not caring who saw. His body shook with the weight of what was happening to him. Mr. Ragnar did nothing to console him, but Mr. Kircher stepped forward and bent down.

  “You must feel terrible. Do you need anything?”

  “Not from you,” he said with a sniffle. “Please, get away from me.”

  “You know, that wasn’t very nice. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

  “You’re a creep, go away.”

  Mr. Ragnar sighed, “Thank you for the help, Mr. Kircher. When will my watch be ready?”

  “Tomorrow.” Mr. Kircher sat back down in his chair, “Have a good day. I look forward to working together, Jaska.”

  Mr. Ragnar took his arm and forced him to stand. He led him from the odd room and back into the front of the store. Jaska walked outside with Mr. Ragnar, flinching at the sunlight. His hand felt stiff and sore. It would hurt for a few days, he was sure of it. “What are you exactly? All I saw was you kill someone. What you said didn’t even make any sense.”

  “I’m a necromancer.”

  “Oh. So, it’s a completely normal thing to do.” Jaska looked at his hand, “What do you do exactly?”

  “I talk to the dead. I can pass through gates into other worlds. I don’t live in this world. I live in another and train there. We can go through the details later.”

  He would have found this hard to believe had he not just been marked. “What does being your apprentice mean?”

  “A lot of things. Let’s talk to your grandparents and your parents first.”

  “Do my grandparents know who you are?”

  “Perhaps. We won’t know until we go there. Lead the way.” He walked beside Jaska, “I suppose we should get to know one another.”

  Jaska didn’t want to get to know Vladimir Ragnar. He didn’t want to know anything about him and he didn’t want the man knowing anything about him either. “We don’t have to.”

  “Suit yourself, but I will have to ask a few questions now and again.”

  “I have one for you. Will I ever be free?”

  Mr. Ragnar took a deep breath, “I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.”
>
  Jaska shivered and folded his arms, “What do you want me to call you? Sir, master, Mr. Ragnar?”

  “Vladimir is fine. What would you like to be called?”

  “Jaska.”

  His grandparents were up and so were Margo and Ty. Jaska stopped at the door, his hand shaking. “What’s going to happen? They’ll call the police.”

  “I very much doubt that. Jaska, please make this easy. I don’t want to force anything else on you. Not after I made you deal with Mr. Kircher.”

  He nodded and opened the door, stepping inside with a heavy heart. Byron came to the door to greet him, “Where were you all morning?” he asked as he walked, but the smile on his face vanished when he saw the person standing with him. “Who’s your friend?”

  Jaska burst into tears again, his knees buckling beneath him. “It was an accident,” he sobbed. “I never meant to see it!”

  Mr. Ragnar put his hands behind his back, “I think tea is in order while I explain a few things.”

  Byron stared at him, “What?”

  “There is something we need to discuss. I suggest a pot of tea, but this isn’t my home.” Mr. Ragnar glanced at Jaska, “Perhaps go and wait in your room while I speak to your grandparents?”

  He turned and ran into the hallway, pushing open the door to the bathroom before violently vomiting into the toilet. Since he hadn’t eaten breakfast all that was in his stomach was yellow bile. He didn’t know what was going to be said to his grandparents. Part of him hoped that they would solve this problem for him. Jaska stood up and rinsed his mouth before going into his room across the hall. Ty and Margo weren’t far behind him. They followed him into the room, Ty shut the door as Jaska sank to his knees and started crying.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Ty demanded. “Who-who was that guy?”

  Jaska took in a deep breath in an attempt to control his tears. He sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “I went to the police station this morning.”

  “What does that have to do with-?”

  “That man in the living room, his name is Vladimir Ragnar. I saw him kill someone in the woods and I was going to tell the police. He was waiting for me. Now, he says I have to be his apprentice.” Jaska sniffled and held up his hand, “Here’s my mark.”

  Ty glanced at Margo, “Uh, what in the hell-?”

  “I don’t want to, but now I have to.”

  Ty sat in front of him and took his hand, “Start from the beginning.”

  With Ty’s strong hand in his, he began to tell him what had happened in the woods and what was going on. Ty didn’t look away from him though he looked extremely worried. At the end of the story Margo threw her arms around him in a sympathetic hug, squeezing him tightly. Ty had let go of his hand and was staring at him with an open mouth.

  “Say something. Anything.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

  Margo shook her head, “This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”

  “It is real. I wish it wasn’t. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Is he forcing you?”

  “Yes. The mark is binding.” He looked down at his palm, “I never should have come here. This was a bad idea.”

  “None of this is your fault. It was an accident.”

  He was about to say something else until his grandfather came into the room. Byron was frowning. His eyes were dark and he was trying to avoid eye contact. “Jaska, we need to talk about this with your mother. You’re new . . . Mr. Ragnar will be coming back when she arrives.”

  “What did he tell you?” Jaska asked.

  Byron shook his head, “Everything.”

  “I’m sorry, grandpa. I never meant for any of this to happen. I know that it-”

  “None of this is your fault.” Byron took a deep breath, “Margo, come on. There’s something we need to talk about.”

  Margo left the two, looking back with tears in her eyes. Ty only spoke after the door closed, “Jaska, this is ridiculous. He can’t force you!”

  “He can and he is.” His body felt weak from the mark. He leaned against the bed, “Worse things have happened.”

  “No, this is pretty bad.” Ty ran his hands over his face, “What happens now?”

  “Mr. Ragnar didn’t tell me a whole lot about what being his apprentice means. I’ll probably have to live with him.” He managed a small laugh, “Do you think I’ll make a good necromancer?”

  “You’re good at everything you do.”

  Jaska shook his head, “I don’t know. Maybe I will be good at it. Maybe this will be fun.”

  Ty kneaded his hands together, “Does Mr. Kircher know anything?”

  “Not that I know of. He didn’t say anything when we were there.”

  “He might not say anything in front of Mr. Ragnar. We can talk to him on our own though.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shifted, “Mr. Kircher is . . . a creep. He likes kids. A little too much.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know. I don’t think going to talk to him is such a great idea.”

  “We’ll be together.” Ty stood. He held out his hand to his friend, “Come on. If he gets within ten inches of you, I’ll punch him.”

  Jaska wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he began to think it was worth a shot. Mr. Kircher might be more willing to talk if Mr. Ragnar wasn’t around to force him to stop. Of course, Mr. Ragnar wasn’t around to stop him from doing anything else. They made their way towards the town, hoping Mr. Ragnar hadn’t gone back to the shop. When they entered the pudgy man only stared and motioned to the back door.

  “Hang on, is Mr. Ragnar here?” Jaska asked.

  “No, he isn’t. You can go on back.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ty followed close by him, looking around at the odd hallway, “This is weird.”

  “Just wait.”

  He knocked on the door that led to the workspace of the psychopath they were here to see. When he heard the ‘come in’ he pushed open the door and stepped inside the room. Mr. Kircher was working on another clock, this one bigger than the previous one. He looked back with a frown until he saw who it was. His eyes lit up and he folded his arms across his chest.

  “Hello, sweet boy. You missed me already? I missed you too.”

  Jaska took a step back and held up his hands, “I have some questions I wanted to ask you about Mr. Ragnar.”

  “Those will cost you. I don’t work for free, Jaska.” Mr. Kircher sat down on his stool and turned his eyes to Ty, “Hello. I haven’t seen you around.”

  “This is my friend Ty.”

  “Glad to meet you, Ty. I’m Elias Kircher.”

  “. . . It’s nice to meet you too.”

  “Now, back to the matter at hand. What did you want to know about Mr. Ragnar?”

  “I want to know what, exactly, he is.”

  Mr. Kircher shrugged, “A powerful man. Vladimir Ragnar is a Master Necromancer who works for . . . well, anyone. He gets hired and does shit. He kills people and raises the dead to do who knows what. He’s kind of a jack of all trades I suppose.”

  “Oh.”

  “He isn’t a bad person, actually. He thinks I’m downright despicable.”

  “You are.”

  “I know. Most people think so, but I know that he doesn’t like me a whole lot. I happen to be the only person alive who can fix the shit he breaks though so he tolerates me.”

  “Why are you the only one who can fix it?”

  “Because of the type of creature I am. He can explain it you, I’m not spilling all of his secrets,” he said with a wink.

  “What do you think I’ll have to do?”

  “Live with him, train with him, all of that. Do you want a drink?” Mr. Kircher stood, “I have soda or water.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself. What else do you want to know?”

  “Is there any way out of it?”

  Mr. Kircher shook
his head, “Not really. I mean, you could kill him, but then all of his power goes to you. He has a lot of power. You wouldn’t be able to handle it and you would die. So, no, there is nothing you can do.”

  Jaska felt like throwing up again. Mr. Kircher knew this better than he did and even he didn’t have answers. “There must be something-”