The Necromancer: The Reluctant Apprentice

by Rani Clark

  Then his father spoke up. He had hoped his mother’s presence would have kept him in line and it didn’t. “I’m not sure I want him staying there,” he said, an angry frown on his face. “That Byrne boy is disgusting. I don’t want him around Ty, infecting him.”

  Ty felt his cheeks redden, “Dad-”

  “No, no, I will not let that little faggot-”

  “Shut up!” he roared. “Jaska is my friend! He’s the only one who understands anything! He’s kind and he’s still my friend, even after I kissed him when he told me not to.”

  He had never seen rage so plain on someone’s face. Lilly Ann had looked downright terrifying when Mr. Ragnar had shown up, but his father looked like he was about to start hitting him. Ty took a small step back as his father grabbed his arm roughly, “Excuse me?” he hissed.

  “I kissed him. A few times. Let go of me,” he spoke in a whisper.

  Alyssa stepped between her husband and her son. She pushed Horace away, “Don’t touch him like that. Ever.”

  “You’re alright with our son being a faggot?”

  Ty knew his mother wouldn’t like it either, but she wouldn’t be nearly so violent about it. “I just thought I should talk to you, but that was dumb. I’m going.”

  “Ty, hang on,” Alyssa tried to call him back as he walked away.

  “I don’t ever want to see you in this house again!” Horace shouted after him.

  Ty felt tears sting his eyes as he ran out of the house and towards the waiting car. He slammed the car door.

  “Honey, what happened?”

  He sobbed in her arms, his heart pounding and his eyes stinging. He didn’t know how to explain everything. When he had calmed down Lilly Ann drove away. They didn’t go back to the apartment though. She drove to a small café by the library, pulling in without a word.

  “Why are we here?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

  “We need to talk and I don’t want Margo listening. Do you feel like a scone? I do.”

  Ty nodded and followed her in. The place was slow so they chose a table in the back and got their coffee and blueberry scones. Lilly Ann sipped her coffee before speaking.

  “What happened?”

  “My dad told me that he never wanted to see me again. Yelled it at me actually.” He shook his head, “Both my parents hate me. Mom just won’t say it. She won’t kick me out, she won’t tell me she hates me, but she does.”

  “I don’t think they hate you.”

  “I walked in and they were screaming at each other. I can’t go back there. I can’t even-” he stopped. There was nothing he could say to make this any better. He could get angry with his parents, he could scream and shout, but in the end it didn’t matter. In the end there was just him and his father telling him he wasn’t welcome any longer. “If Jaska was with me, if he was that way, would you still love him?”

  “Of course I would. He’s my son.” Lilly Ann bit into a scone, “Frankly, I wish he was with you. Jaska doesn’t have an interest in anybody.”

  “He told me he doesn’t have romantic feelings.”

  “He told you that?”

  “After things went to shit he told me if it made me feel better I could continue kissing him. I told him if he didn’t like it I wouldn’t do it, but he said he doesn’t feel anything about it. It shouldn’t worry you. Jaska is a very nice person and really smart. He’ll do great things.”

  Lilly Ann smiled and reached across the table. She took his hand, “You’re a sweet young man. Too sweet to have your parents acting like that.”

  “My mom defended me.”

  “She really shouldn’t have to.”

  Ty nodded and sipped his coffee, “Thank you for everything you’re doing.”

  “Happy to help.”

  He didn’t know what to say to make her see that this wasn’t an average thing for a lot of parents to do. Jaska was his friend and tutor, but this was an incredible thing. There had to be a way for him to pay her back for everything she was doing. He supposed doing the dishes and chores would have to do for now.

  “I really think he’ll be ok. He’s strong. Stronger than me.”

  “He takes after our side of the family in that. My parents are strong willed and so am I.”

  “I see a lot of you in him. I’m glad he took after you, he’s the reason I could even go to school and didn’t hurt myself. He listened even though I know he never thought of me as a friend until right now.”

  “He kept you from hurting yourself?”

  “Yeah. A lot of times. The few times I kissed him it was a release that I needed. A release that I know I could never have without him. He didn’t criticize me or tell me that I was terrible. I love him. He’s the best friend I think I’ll ever have.”

  Lilly Ann’s son was an amazing human being and Ty was thankful every day that he had met Jaska Byrne.

  11

  Jaska woke up to sticky eyes. He had been crying in his sleep again. With a sigh, he stood and slumped into the shower, not bothering to put his clothes anywhere except the floor. As he stood in the stream of hot water he tried to keep himself in check. He couldn’t cry during the day. It made him feel ridiculous. There was a knock on the door as he turned off the shower.

  “I’ll be down in a minute!” he called to whoever was at the door.

  He dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, taking his gray jacket from the chair. Leif was making pancakes from the smell of things. He sat at the table and looked down at his plate, thinking over what was going to happen today. Mr. Ragnar appeared as Leif brought out a plate stacked with chocolate chip pancakes. Jaska put a single pancake on his plate and began to eat, not wanting to speak to anyone.

  “Are you guys starting your first day of training?” Leif asked as he dumped syrup over his stack.

  “Yes,” Mr. Ragnar replied. “I hope you’re excited Jaska?”

  He sipped his orange juice, “No.”

  “It will be fine. I promise,” he replied.

  Jaska knew he was trying to be nice, but he doubted things would be fun. He finished eating and waited for Mr. Ragnar to do the same. When he was finished, Leif wished them good luck and disappeared to do the dishes. The basement didn’t frighten him, but he was nervous to find out what was down there. Mr. Ragnar led him down a flight of narrow steps and into a large, dark room. He flicked on the light and stepped forward.

  “Welcome to my office, Jaska,” he said. “You can look around if you want.”

  Jaska had been expecting all the books. There were eight bookshelves lining the walls of the large room. When Jaska stepped through a doorway he was greeted with a small sitting area. There were two chairs, a small couch, and a fireplace along with a coffee table. Two more bookshelves were sitting against the wall. These ones were filled with artifacts and statues. Back in the main workshop was a table and a stool where Mr. Ragnar obviously did his work. There was an old, thick desk stacked with papers, notebooks, and any number of other things.

  “This is your workshop as well.” He motioned to the table, “You can use that.”

  Jaska nodded, “Alright. What do I do first?”

  “First, we have to get you into contact with death. If they don’t know you’re there or trying to learn this whole thing will be extremely pointless.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “You’re going to have to trust me. It isn’t going to be comfortable at first.” Mr. Ragnar led him back into the study. “Help me move everything.”

  Jaska helped him move the chairs and the table. Mr. Ragnar set up six black candles and told Jaska to sit in the middle. Jaska watched as his teacher drew a line connecting the candles with white powder. The lights were dimmed, the only thing visible were the dark flames of the candles and Mr. Ragnar standing over him.

  He turned his back and took something from inside his jacket, “I am sorry about this.” Mr. Ragnar raised his hand, there was a gun in it.

  “What-?”

  Bang.

 
Bang.

  Bang.

  12

  Jaska took in a gasping breath and opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was seeing a gun in his master’s hand and then nothing. With a groan, he pushed himself up and looked around. The place he was in was an odd gray color. He was sitting on soft grass, trees surrounding him. Whatever Mr. Ragnar had done had transported him out of the house and to somewhere that felt out of place and cold. He wrapped his arms around himself and stood. Rather than wait, he began to walk through the gray forest. The leaves didn’t stir from the cold breeze and the sound of birds or insects was non-existent. He suddenly realized what felt so odd about this place. There was no color. Gray and black dominated the landscape, even his skin was the color of ash.

  His legs grew stiff as he walked through the grass. The sound of someone walking beside him made him stop. The moment he stopped the sound stopped. Jaska groaned as he continued to walk. There was something around him, he could feel it. The more he walked, the more he could sense it until he wanted to scream. He stopped walking the closer the noises got to him.

  “Stop it,” he spoke to whatever was following him. “Please, stop.”

  “Please?” The thing hissed into the air, “Please is what you say.”

  He didn’t like the sound of the voice. It was an unpleasant thing that slithered into his ear and didn’t leave. “It is what I say. What do you want?” He turned to find where the voice was coming from. All he saw was a darkening forest.

  “I can smell you, I can feel you. What is your name?”

  “Why do you need to know my name?”

  “I can just call you meat if you want.”

  “No, don’t call me that. My name is Jaska.”

  “Hello, Jaska.”

  And just like that the thing appeared. It was a tall, thin thing with long, slender fingers. Jaska couldn’t see most of its shape. It was more of a figure of shadow. It glided forward and peered down with ice blue eyes that glowed like fire from what Jaska assumed was its face. “What . . . who are you?” he asked, his voice shaking.

  “You may call me Mads.”

  The name rang a bell. The first time he had been confronted by Mr. Ragnar, the man had mentioned something or someone named Mads. “What do you want?”

  “Little necromancers cannot walk with death by themselves. No human can.” Mads reached forward and gripped his shoulder.

  Jaska felt cold seep into him, prying into his chest with clawed fingers. He grunted, “Stop.”

  “No. Hold still.”

  Whatever he was doing was lost on Jaska. He stood still until Mads let go. Jaska touched his chest, rubbing the warmth back into him. “What are you doing?”

  “Necromancers need a Spirit Guide. Death is natural, but living people were not meant to walk beside it.”

  “You’re not my Spirit Guide, right?”

  “No. I am Vladimir’s Spirit Guide. Hold still. He requested I be the one to speak to you so as not to frighten you.”

  Jaska shouted as Mads shoved a black ball of light into his chest. The icy burn made him gasp, his breath caught in his throat. He fell to his knees and held his chest. He wanted to scream and cry, but nothing would come out.

  “He isn’t that mean, to be honest. I sort of like him.”

  “Mr. Ragnar?”

  “No, your Spirit Guide.”

  “What?”

  Then he was gone. The strange thing was gone, the forest had vanished. He stumbled back, falling to the ground as darkness surrounded him. He gasped as pain, warm and excruciating, filled his body. He found himself staring up at the dark ceiling of the basement. Mr. Ragnar was kneeling over him, holding his hand. Or at least, Jaska saw him holding his hand. He couldn’t feel his extremities.

  “You . . . shot . . .” but he couldn’t speak. He found his body didn’t work like it should.

  “You were dead for a bit. It’s going to take some time to get back to being normal.” Mr. Ragnar scooped him up and carried him up the steps.

  Leif was at the top of the stairs when Mr. Ragnar opened the door. “How did it go?” the young man asked.

  “Fine. He’s lighter than you were. Shorter too.”

  “Yeah well.” Leif followed them, “His bed is ready.”

  Jaska stared at Leif. The young man had known about this and hadn’t said anything. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was glare at his master. Mr. Ragnar set him down gently in the bed and took off his shoes. He covered him with the blanket.

  “Now, all feeling will return in a few hours. Get some sleep.”

  Jaska shook his head, “No.” He felt tears running down his cheeks.

  “I know, alright? I know. Just hang on until you can speak and move. You can yell at me all you like then.”

  Mr. Ragnar had shot him and he had no idea why. The man had promised he would be safe, had promised things would be alright, and now they weren’t. He closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep filled with nightmares. He dreamed of the strange creature and what he had spoken about. When he woke up it was dark and his body felt sore, but he could move. The door opened and Mr. Ragnar came in holding a bowl of steaming soup and a glass filled with water.

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “This will perk you right up.”

  Jaska sat up, “You shot me.” He looked down at his naked chest. Bandages had been wrapped around the wounds. “Why-why did you do this?”

  Mr. Ragnar handed him the soup and sat down on the bed, “The only way to get in touch with death is to die. I did it the safest way possible. When I did this to Leif I slit his throat and it was a mess. There was blood everywhere and sewing him up was difficult.”

  “You shot me.”

  “I know. Did Mads talk to you?”

  “I hate that thing, whatever it was. It made me uncomfortable.” Jaska began to eat his soup, happy to have something filling his belly.

  “He makes a lot of people uncomfortable.” He watched him eat for a moment before speaking, “He is helpful though.”

  Jaska put the bowl on the nightstand, “You said I could trust you, that I wouldn’t get hurt.” He turned over as he laid back down, “Get out.”

  “Jaska-”

  “No, I don’t want to talk to you. Get out.”

  Mr. Ragnar sighed and stood, “Alright. I’m not going to argue with you right now. I’m sorry I didn’t explain things, but you wouldn’t have liked it anyway.”

  Jaska was no longer certain about becoming Mr. Ragnar’s apprentice. He tried not to think about being shot. It was startling and painful. He sniffled in the darkness of the room until he heard the door open. “Get out, Mr. Ragnar!”

  “It’s me,” Leif stepped into the room. “Mind if we talk?”

  Jaska sniffled, “Sure.”

  Leif nodded, “You know, Vladimir didn’t tell you for a reason. You wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

  “He killed me.”

  “Yeah, he killed me too. At least he shot you. When he slit my throat the blood went everywhere and it hurt a lot. I would have rather been shot.”

  Jaska turned around and looked at him, “You would have?”

  “Yeah.” Leif smiled, “He could have strangled you. He was trying to be nice. I know this is hard for you, but you’re already doing a better job than I did. When I met Mads I threw up and my Spirit Guide made me cry every time I saw her.”

  “When will mine show up?”

  Leif shrugged, “Dunno. Mine popped up while I was using the toilet.”

  “Great.” Jaska touched his chest where the bullets had gone in.

  “Relax about this. Vladimir feels terrible about it. He wasn’t as prepared to hurt you as he was to hurt me.” Leif chuckled, “He thinks your sweet and besides, it wasn’t like you were really going to die.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.”

  “It should.” He turned to leave, “I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow. Please forgive him.”

  Jaska wa
tched him go before laying down again. He wasn’t sure he could forgive Mr. Ragnar although the more he thought about it the more he realized being mad was dumb. If he had been told he wouldn’t have agreed to it and to the best of his knowledge there was no real danger to him. Leif was still alive and Mr. Ragnar had done it to him. His thoughts swirled in his mind as he fought back sleep until eventually it claimed him. When he woke up he didn’t feel the pain until he tried to move. His body was stiff and his head hurt. The rain was pounding against the windows, rattling them lightly.