The Necromancer: The Reluctant Apprentice

by Rani Clark

  “How was your night?” Mr. Ragnar asked as they walked away from the house.

  “Awful. Where are we going?”

  “To pick up my watch. After that, we can head to my home. Your new home.”

  The clock shop wasn’t open this early. Mr. Ragnar stepped around to the back and pushed open the door. Jaska hoped Mr. Kircher didn’t say anything about visiting him yesterday. Mr. Ragnar walked through the hall and stopped at a door. He knocked loudly, the noise like thunder in the early morning silence.

  “What?” came the groggy reply.

  “Open up.”

  “Hang on.” Mr. Kircher was in his pajamas, wrapping a robe around himself. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, “It’s six in the morning. I had kind of a late night.”

  “I’m here to pick up my watch.”

  He nodded, “Fine. Do you want some coffee? I have donuts or scones.” He led them into the small kitchenette where there was a pot of coffee brewing.

  “Can I have some coffee?” Jaska asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Mr. Kircher poured him a steaming cup, “So, you two are on your way out, huh? Must be hard to say goodbye to the life you knew, to the family you had. At least you won’t have to go to school anymore.” He chuckled, “I always hated school.”

  Jaska sipped his coffee, happy to have something to wake him up. He took an offered donut and followed the two adults into the workshop. Mr. Kircher took out the watch and handed it over. “There you go. Oh and,” he handed him a slip of paper, “your bill.”

  Mr. Ragnar took the bill and glanced at it, “That’s vulgar. I’m paying you the usual.”

  Mr. Kircher laughed, “I thought you would get a kick out of that. Ha.” He took the payment with the bill, “Thanks. See you in a few weeks, Vladimir.”

  Jaska finished his coffee and handed the mug back, “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Kircher.”

  “Anytime.”

  Mr. Ragnar looked at his watch, “He always does such a fantastic job. It’s a shame I can’t find someone who is less deplorable.”

  “What did he want to charge you?” Jaska asked, wiping the donut dust from his mouth.

  “Nothing I was willing to pay him. Come on.”

  Mr. Ragnar led him away from the main part of town and into the forest. Jaska didn’t bother asking where they were going. They only stopped when they were well away from town. In a clearing, there was a circle drawn in chalk on the grass. Candles had been placed around the circle. Mr. Ragnar stepped away from him and began lighting the candles. Jaska stood in silence until Mr. Ragnar finished. “How do we get to wherever we’re going?” he asked.

  “Since you have my mark you can pass through the land of the dead, but I won’t make you do that just yet. Hop into the circle.”

  Jaska walked over the candles and stood there as Mr. Ragnar followed. “What now?”

  “Take my hand.”

  Jaska did as he was told and took Mr. Ragnar’s hand. He shivered as the temperature abruptly plummeted and an icy wind pushed into him, chilling him right down to his bones. He closed his eyes against the cold, but it was gone just as unexpectadly as it had appeared. He opened his eyes and found he was no longer standing in a forest in Germany. There was a paved road beneath his feet and rain was coming down on his head. Mr. Ragnar took an umbrella from his suitcase and opened it, holding it over Jaska.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  Jaska turned around. The street was visible from the alleyway they were standing in. Jaska walked towards the street only to see something he hadn't been expecting. There were no cars driving down the paved streets, only horse drawn carriages. Mr. Ragnar walked beside him, turning left down the street. “What-what’s happening?”

  “I told you I lived somewhere else. This place is . . . well, it’s kind of difficult to explain. Necromancers have the ability to travel to different worlds. This is one of them. That’s the short version, I’ll explain more once we get into your training. Funny story though, this city is named London. Coincidence I guess.”

  Jaska nodded and continued to look around as they walked. Mr. Ragnar led him towards the corner where he hailed a cab. Jaska tried not to make eye contact with the driver as they climbed in. He barely listened to the address Mr. Ragnar gave. He watched the scenery go by as they headed away from the center of the city. The cab stopped when they were in a small suburb. Mr. Ragnar handed Jaska his bag so that he could pay the driver, taking it back a moment later. Jaska turned and looked at the large house Mr. Ragnar was walking towards.

  It was gray and black with a menacing knocker in the shape of a skull. Mr. Ragnar walked up the steps and unlocked the door, stepping aside to allow Jaska to enter. He took a deep breath and did so. The inside of the house matched the outside. All of the décor was gray or black and there were no photographs, only strange paintings of storms and caskets. A large staircase led to the upper floor. Mr. Ragnar put his suitcase down and took off his hat and coat to hang by the door.

  “I’ll show you around. Follow me.”

  Jaska nodded. The bottom floor was as expected. There was a small study and a living room with a fireplace and a fluffy couch. There were photographs on the mantle, but he didn’t look at them. There was a book on the table that looked like it was being read. The kitchen was small, but clean other than the few plates and bowls in the sink and a pan on the stove. The dining room held a beautiful mahogany table and a water color painting of a scythe hanging above a table decorated with flowers. As they rounded the corner to head back to the entryway they almost ran into another person.

  Jaska was surprised to the point that he froze. The person was a young man, he looked to be seventeen or eighteen. He was wearing a jacket and a tight pair of jeans.

  “Whoa! Sorry,” he said with a smile. He was balancing a plate with a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a glass. “Welcome home!”

  “Leif.” Mr. Ragnar raised an eyebrow, “Clean up the kitchen and don’t leave dishes piled in the sink.”

  “I was going to, I just haven’t gotten around to it.” Leif looked to Jaska, “Who is this?”

  Mr. Ragnar sighed, “This is my new apprentice Jaska Byrne. Jaska this is Leif. My former apprentice.”

  Leif stared at the two, “What happened?”

  “He saw me while I was working and I was forced to do something drastic.” He put his hand heavily on Jaska’s shoulder, “Not that I wanted to. I got my watch fixed.”

  “Oh good. I’ll bet Elias was happy to see you,” he aimed the comment at Jaska. “Since I turned nineteen, he doesn’t really pay much attention to me anymore. Not that I mind. The guy’s a creep to put it lightly.”

  “He’s polite at least,” Jaska echoed the words he had said to Ty.

  “Real polite. Right up until you wake up the next morning wondering what was in that soda.”

  Mr. Ragnar cleared his throat, “Mr. Kircher is a disgusting man, but I would never let him near you. Leif, stop telling him stories.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Just giving him some friendly advice.”

  “Well, be that as it may.” Mr. Ragnar turned, “Show him to his room, the one next to yours, while I unpack. I’ll be up in a minute. And clean up your mess.”

  Leif smiled at him as Mr. Ragnar disappeared underneath the stairs. Leif watched him go before speaking, “Follow me.”

  Jaska followed him up the stairs and down the hall. “How did you end up with Mr. Ragnar? You talk like you’re from where I’m from.”

  “I am. I used to live in Germany. My parents were killed by some weirdo and Mr. Ragnar killed him.” Leif held up his hand to show him the mark that was there, “He did this and here I am.”

  “You’re a necromancer too?”

  “What? No. Not even close!” He opened up the door and stepped inside, “God knows he tried, but I suck at it. I’m good at cooking though.”

  The room was bigger than his old room with a large bed and a small window. A wardrobe was against the opposite
wall. “What is Mr. Ragnar like?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he mean, is he nice?”

  Leif sat down on the bed and watched him set his bags by the dresser, “He’s quiet and he’s cranky sometimes, but I think that’s a normal thing for anyone. He’s not a great conversationalist, but he’s very protective.”

  Jaska looked at the mark on his hand, “I’m not a great conversationalist either.”

  “He might like training you better then, I talk too much,” he said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. What do you want for lunch?”

  “Lunch?”

  “Yeah. It’s nearly twelve.” Leif laughed, “Where you’re from is about five-ish hours behind here. At least, I think it is. I can’t remember.” He shrugged, “Anyway, what do you want to eat?”

  “I-I don’t really care. I’m not that hungry.”

  “Ok. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  Jaska watched him leave, flinching as the door closed. This was the first time he had been alone in two days. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands as tears threatened to overwhelm him. “One, two, three . . .” He began to count to ten to calm himself down just like Ty had taught him on the plane. After a moment of panicky tears, he managed to calm himself and decided to look around his new home. It wasn’t awful, all things considered. He could have been with someone who was insanely abusive and wanted to hurt him. Mr. Ragnar seemed like a nice enough person for the situation they were in.

  He stood and made his way downstairs. Leif was cooking in the kitchen so he looked around the living room, looking at the books and the odd things Mr. Ragnar kept. In the corner was a small desk with liquor bottles and two glasses on it. As he moved on to the study he heard someone walk up behind him. He noticed Mr. Ragnar’s light footfalls before he spoke.

  “How are you liking it?”

  “It’s . . . lovely. My room is nice.”

  “And how are you liking Leif?”

  “He’s fine. How come you didn’t tell me you had another apprentice?”

  Mr. Ragnar shrugged, “I don’t know. Telling you about Leif wouldn’t have made that big of a difference in the grand scheme of things.” He stepped to the desk and leaned against it, “Leif no doubt told you about his incompetence in necromancy.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “You might be better.” He chuckled, “He was awful at it.”

  “Why not let him go then?”

  Mr. Ragnar shrugged, “He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t need to have that mark, but we’ve just never bothered to remove it. Leif’s been here his entire life, he has no reason to want to leave.”

  Jaska nodded and looked down, “Could Ty maybe visit sometime?”

  “Once we get everything sorted. May I ask you something about that boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is your relationship with him? I saw him kiss you.”

  “Nothing, we’re just friends. He’s having problems and he only has me to help him. If his dad ever found out he was gay he would kill him and I don’t want him hurt.”

  “I understand. It’s very nice of you to help your friend like that.”

  Jaska had never seen it like that. Ty was a nice person who didn’t deserve to be hurt for who he was attracted to. “I guess. I’m just his tutor.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it.” Mr. Ragnar looked out the window as the rain began to fall harder, “Did you speak to Mr. Kircher without me?”

  Jaska shook his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a good idea, Ty did. He didn’t tell me anything interesting. Except . . . if I killed you I would get your powers and that would kill me.”

  “Mr. Kircher is dangerous. You shouldn’t be speaking to him without me."

  “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help but notice that his new master didn’t seem to care if Mr. Kircher told him what would happen if he ever decided to kill the necromancer. It made him feel safer even if it was just a little something.

  “It’s really alright. I just don’t want you hurt.” He looked at the door and lowered his voice, “Leif doesn’t remember when I left him alone with Elias. He makes jokes about it because I think deep down he remembers.”

  “You . . . you left him alone with that monster?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me. I know it was wrong, but I was an idiot. I don’t think it went beyond touching. I still don’t feel great about it.”

  Jaska shifted uncomfortably. Being around Mr. Kircher had given him a stomach ache, he couldn’t imagine being touched by him. “Are you ever going to tell him?”

  “Probably not. I don’t really want to.” Mr. Ragnar looked at his new apprentice, “Don’t say anything to him. I don’t wish to hurt him.”

  “You really care about him?”

  “I do. He’s a fine young man and I want him to trust me. I gave him a reason not to, I lied about it, but I feel like it was a good lie. He doesn’t need to remember any of that.”

  He was coming in to something that he didn’t understand. He didn’t know how to be a necromancer’s apprentice, he didn’t know how to cook and he was lousy at cleaning. There was nothing he could think of that would be useful to Mr. Ragnar. More importantly, he was interrupting whatever Leif and Mr. Ragnar had. Leif wasn’t going to be happy about it no matter how nice he seemed now. “Mr. Ragnar, I don’t think I’ll be great at anything having to do with your line of work. I don’t see how I can be of any help whatsoever.”

  “It will take some time. I have an excellent feeling about you, Jaska. Better than Leif anyway. That boy is . . . terrible at talking to the dead. He is a chatterbox and the dead get irritated by that.”

  Jaska managed a small laugh as they heard a shout that lunch was ready. Leif had made soup on this chilly day though he was eating the sandwich he had been aiming to eat before they had interrupted him. “Thank you for lunch, Leif.”

  “No problem.” He leaned back, “So, Vladimir, beyond Jaska how was the trip?”

  “Fine. Other than having to talk to Mr. Kircher, it went well. I took care of some business I had there and it went perfectly.”

  “Great! I’ll go shopping after lunch. I didn’t expect you back until next week so we’re a little low on some stuff.”

  “Take Jaska with you. Show him the ropes. I don’t want to have to beat it into him.”

  Jaska froze. He stared at his new master with large eyes, his spoon clattering to the ground. Leif burst out laughing, “Jesus, take it down a notch. He’s not going to hit you. He tried to be stern when I came here. Couldn’t do it.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Mr. Ragnar said quickly. “I was only joking. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

  Jaska took a deep breath to calm the beating of his heart, “I’m sorry. I just . . . this is new to me.”

  “Perhaps I should leave the joking to when you have become comfortable here.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill.”

  “It isn’t a problem. We understand.”

  Jaska didn’t mean to take everything so seriously. He remained in silence as they finished lunch. Mr. Ragnar and Leif continued talking while he listened. Leif was comfortable with the man when Jaska found him terrifying. He helped Leif clean up while Mr. Ragnar retired to his basement office to do whatever it was he did.

  “You don’t have to be so dismal,” Leif told him as they got ready to go to the store. “I know this is hard. It must suck being away from everyone you love, but Vladimir isn’t a bad guy. Things could be worse.” He laughed, “You could be stuck with Mr. Kircher!”

  Jaska managed a small laugh as they left the house and headed down the street. Jaska looked around as they walked. Leif led him into a small store and picked up a few items that Jaska didn’t bother looking at or asking about. Ty would have liked Leif. If he ever met him maybe they could be friends. Leif looked at his list and practically skipped down the street. He wondered what everyone was doing back home. />
  No, that wasn’t his home anymore. This was his home and Germany was just another place to visit. He wondered what his father would say if he knew about this. The man wouldn’t be happy, he was sure of that.