Fritz put his unfinished sandwich on his plate. “Where did the name ‘Drosselmeyer’ come from?”
Boroda set his mug down. “I was unprepared for your name. I am sorry.” His voice trembled. “In time, I hope to tell you, but for now, I’m afraid you’ll have to be fine with the mystery.”
“Ok,” Fritz agreed. Then he added, “Don’t forget, I don’t know how to read, and school starts …”
A loud thud interrupted him. The house shook, and a few clocks twisted on the wall.
Boroda’s eyes narrowed.
“What was …” Fritz began to ask but was immediately shushed.
Boroda closed his eyes and held out his hands. He vanished.
Ten seconds later, he appeared again, eyes wide and teeth bared.
“Run, Fritz. Get out of here!” he yelled. A broadsword appeared in his right hand, and his left glowed silver with heat.
“What’s wrong?” Fritz’s voice quivered as he stood up. The house shook, and the ceiling timbers buckled. Pieces of plaster sprinkled onto his head but before he could brush them off, the kitchen wall ripped from its foundation.
A large ape raised the section of wall above its head and roared, exposing a row of sharp teeth.
Boroda sidestepped a falling chunk of plaster as he shot a beam of silver light at the creature’s chest.
The long gash bubbled, leaking foamy streaks of blood, then healed itself, leaving a knobby scar in its trace. The animal wailed in pain and threw the wall at Boroda.
Boroda launched forward with blazing speed and sliced the monster’s leg with his broadsword.
The ape swung at Boroda, missed, and shattered the wall behind him. The wall crumbled, and the floor above sagged.
Boroda hit the ape in the chest with another beam of light, and it screamed a loud, piercing wail.
Fritz cupped his ears. He reached out to a heavy pan on the far wall and flung it with all of his might at the giant creature. The pan struck the animal in the head, but it barely registered the attack.
Boroda flew around the ape, vanishing and reappearing, striking and burning, but the wounds closed almost as fast as he inflicted them.
The ape flailed its arms wildly, roaring with a deafening howl. Boroda miscalculated the trajectory of the swinging arms and traveled directly in the path of the creature’s meaty fists. The ape struck him, and he flew across the room like a discarded piece of rubble.
Boroda slammed into a wall, and his sword clattered to the ground. He struggled to his feet.
The lumbering creature hopped toward Boroda with knuckles dragging the ground. Bloody foam collected near its mouth as it reached out to grab the stunned wizard.
Fritz focused on Boroda’s sword across the floor. He reached out for the sword and pulled it to him. The blade shot toward him, and he ducked just in time to dodge the pointed tip. It stuck into a wooden beam inches above his head.
The animal followed the sword’s path and fixed its red eyes on Fritz. With trepidation, it inched toward him, its head snapping back and forth. In a shrieking tirade, the ape smashed through the ceiling, creating space to stand at full height.
Fritz pulled the sword from the wall and ran at the beast.
The ape cocked its right hand for a blow.
Fritz rolled under the swing, leapt up from the floor, and plunged the sword into the ape’s calf. The animal’s flesh closed around it, and Fritz tumbled away, swordless, but out of the creature’s reach.
Boroda righted himself and pushed on the sword with a burst of energy, driving it deeper into the muscle.
Fritz searched the room for something he could use to protect himself and remembered the piles of weapons in the training room. He reached out, traveled in a crossbow, and fired it at the ape.
The animal whimpered and grabbed for the arrow, but another arrow, loosed from a crossbow in Boroda’s left hand, stuck tight in the other calf.
The ape recoiled and snapped the arrow, but in that time, Boroda had traveled to the exposed second floor and, spell in hand, delivered a long, burning gash down its neck.
The creature screamed and pounded frantically, ripping flooring, timbers, and rock from their foundation.
Fritz looked up and saw his bed upend and splinter on the first floor as the animal smashed at the walls and floors separating the now demolished interior.
He traveled in a pile of daggers and sent them hurling at the ape in rapid succession.
The ape turned and charged him, grabbing a clock and throwing it at Fritz.
Fritz tried to stop the oncoming clock with a push of magic and felt the energy drain from his body. The clock fell short and crashed to the floor.
The ape charged at Fritz, but another flash of silver heat dug into its calf. Boroda traveled inches away from the animal, stabbed the exposed flesh with a dagger before it healed, and then traveled to a broken joist hanging from the second floor.
The knife detonated, and the leg exploded in a shower of flesh and bone. The beast fell and took the remaining west wall with it. The cold night air rushed in.
Boroda continued to fire short bursts of magic at the downed animal. It swatted at him with quick strikes. One landed, and Boroda spun in the air and hit a post.
Fritz traveled in a longsword and ran, screaming, at the monster. He dodged its right arm and gave himself a push from the floor. He sailed up toward the second floor and planted his feet sideways on a bent wall.
His vision started to get fuzzy.
With the last bit of his energy, he shoved off the wall toward the monster’s head. He twisted midair and struck the ape just over the right eye, digging the sword in with as much force as he could muster.
The monster let out a guttural roar and threw Fritz away. A force stopped him from impaling on a cracked wooden beam, then dropped him to the floor. He glanced up just in time to see Boroda look away and charge the downed ape.
Boroda appeared directly over the creature’s head, blood running in rivulets down his face. His medallion was glowing through his shirt. With an enraged scream, he shot a bolt of electricity at the ape’s exposed leg, eliciting a full-throated howl, and using both hands, sent a red hot stream of magic down the ape’s throat.
The molten shaft seared the fur surrounding the mouth, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair filled the room. Fritz stumbled back from the intense heat and shielded himself behind the overturned kitchen table.
The ape stopped roaring, and its sides glowed red. The flesh on its stomach bubbled, then melted open as its bowels, now red hot, oozed to the floor.
Boroda slowly descended to the ground, watching it cautiously. His medallion faded to a muted orange.
“What was that?” Fritz gasped.
He tried to stand but his strength gave out, so he leaned back against a shattered beam.
Boroda studied it more closely. “An enchanted creature of some kind.” He wiped the blood from his face. “Looks to be an ape.”
“Did it come from the woods?” Fritz asked. He swallowed hard, trying to stop the bile rising in his throat from escaping.
“No. This creature didn’t come from any woods.” Boroda examined the ape’s hands.
Fritz tried to breathe through his mouth and tasted the liquified intestines. “So how’d it get here? Are there more?”
Boroda stepped away from the animal, whispered a few words, and the corpse began to fold in on itself. Smoke billowed until all that remained of the animal was a small pile of dust on the floor. Then he answered, “I don’t know how it got here. Until now, I thought you were the only one who knew where I lived.”
“I didn’t send it,” Fritz said, folding his arms.
“I know.” Boroda turned in a circle and surveyed the damage. “That means someone else has figured out where I live.”
“Do we need to keep watch or something?” Fritz struggled to keep his eyes open. His breath came in labored gasps.
“We can’t stay here.” Boroda looked around. “T
ravel to the courtyard in Anadorn Market. Wait for me there.”
Fritz gave a weak thumbs-up, then passed out.
Chapter 5
The first thing Fritz noticed when he woke up was the pounding in his head. He kept his eyes shut to mitigate the pain. The smell of musty bedding didn’t help the already tenuous situation in his stomach, and nausea waved over him.
Fritz heard Boroda in the room, talking softly with someone. He couldn’t see them. Their voices were deep and cavernous, as if they were speaking in a large, empty room.
“We’re safe for now,” Boroda said. “Just keep your eyes open and warn the others.”
“Do you think the attack was intentional?” the other voice asked.
“I’m almost positive,” said Boroda.
“Did the Black Wizard show up?” asked the other person.
“No. It was only the ape, but that was bad enough,” Boroda said. “Had my apprentice not been there, it might have ended differently.”
“How is he?” the other voice asked.
“He will sleep many hours more,” Boroda said, turning to look at the bed.
Fritz breathed steadily.
“Something is different about this one,” Boroda said. “A normal wizard, this newly snapped, would have died or fallen into a coma after using that much magic.”
“Will he help our cause?” the man asked.
“Perhaps,” said Boroda. “I may tell him in due time, but he has a lot of training ahead of him.”
The other person grunted.
“Tell the others to be on guard,” Boroda said. “I will be working on protective charms as quickly as I can, but in the meantime, watch your back.”
The other party promised to spread the message as Boroda placed a small hand mirror on a nearby table.
Fritz closed his eyes the rest of the way; his exhaustion overtook him, and he slept again.
Boroda shook Fritz awake. The curtains were open and the sun glowed with afternoon warmth. He handed Fritz a cup. “Drink this.”
Fritz sat up and took the mug of warm tea.
“It’s best not to breathe in through your nose when you drink it, but it will help you heal,” Boroda said.
Fritz drank the liquid, even hazarded a taste, but didn’t think it was any worse than the food at the orphanage.
Boroda helped him up, traveled in some clothes, and sat in a chair while Fritz dressed.
“It’s time to train,” he said.
“Already?” Fritz gaped. The contents of his drink began to warm his muscles, and his headache dulled to a mild throb. “Is it safe to start again so soon after that attack?”
Boroda shifted in his seat. “After that attack, your training is more important than ever. I have taken all necessary precautions and believe we will be safe going forward.” He moved his hand, and their current room melted away. They both stood in a large empty room with racks of weapons along the wall.
Fritz felt his energy return. His muscles loosened, and he stretched out his arms while turning and looking in amazement at the new room. “Where are we?”
“One of my other houses,” Boroda said.
“How many houses do you have?” Fritz asked, eyes wide.
“Too many.”
He led Fritz through a series of calisthenics, weights, and basic gymnastics. The wizard demonstrated each move and ran through the routines with grace and ease. When Fritz needed to rest, Boroda pumped out a few more reps on his own.
Fritz was sweating profusely when Boroda finally called an end to the session. He clutched his sides and bent over, trying to catch his breath.
“A wizard’s magic is, in many ways, connected to his own fitness levels,” Boroda warned. “Being fit is the best advantage you can have in a battle.” He wiped a small mist of sweat from his head with a rag and dropped the cloth. It vanished before it hit the floor. “Powerful wizards have lost to lesser people because they weren’t physically fit.”
Fritz nodded that he understood; sweat flung from his nose with the movement.
“Let’s see how good your memory is.” Boroda motioned to the empty table. “Travel in some tea.”
Fritz closed his eyes and walked the long corridors of the infinity room in his mind. He saw a shiny teapot, steam curling out. He looked around until he found a tray with sandwiches and cakes as well. Then he picked some mugs from a shelf.
He motioned to the table and the pot, cups, tray, and food appeared in a heap.
Boroda steadied a teetering cup. “You have to arrange them on the table.”
Fritz grabbed the pot, but Boroda stopped him and pointed to his own forehead. Fritz concentrated on the pile before him and began to rearrange them using only his mind. Once satisfied, he looked up and smiled at Boroda.
Boroda twitched his face, and all the ingredients snapped into a formal setting. Napkins, plates, and a small tray with sugar and milk appeared beside the tea.
Fritz sighed and grabbed a sandwich.
Boroda laid a napkin in his lap. “Magic is art in motion. It is manipulating the very fiber of existence and shaping it to your will. But to learn magic properly, you must first be able to see it.”
He sipped his tea and continued teaching. “Wizards have the ability to see magic and construct spells and enchantments with them. We call this magic vision. When activated, you can study the shapes of every magic spell and enchantment around you.”
Fritz blinked and then gasped. Thousands of swirling lights and shapes filled his vision. Some moved quickly, undulating, while others turned slowly, almost imperceptibly.
“What is this? It’s beautiful.” Fritz ran his fingers through the sparkling points of light.
“It’s magic,” Boroda explained. “Each shape and movement is part of a spell or enchantment and has a different function.” He drew in the air and a line of magic followed his finger. It popped and sparked with energy.
Fritz’s mouth dropped open. Excited, he started drawing in the air, too. A stream of magic followed his fingertip as he traced a circle. “What does this do?” He pointed at the pulsing ring of magic hovering in the air.
“Absolutely nothing, I’m afraid,” Boroda said.
Fritz scowled.
“The circle is a useless shape. It has no application in magic,” Boroda said and brushed away the magic runes in front of him. “Much like its metallic counterpart, gold. It’s no coincidence that the ancient symbol for gold is a circle.”
Fritz brushed away the shape in the air and folded his hands.
“Now I will draw a spell, and I want you to copy it.” Boroda traced a shape in the air.
Fritz followed suit, and soon they had a small network of shapes twisting in various directions.
“No spell will be enacted until you cast it,” Boroda went on. He gathered the shapes in his hand and threw them at his mug of tea. The water boiled and vaporized. “That was the spell for heat.”
Fritz threw his spell at the cup in front of him. The cup began to shake, then shattered. He yelled and covered his face.
“You have to focus on the liquid,” Boroda said, picking up his napkin and dabbing his face. “Once you have a spell committed to memory, you can attach an associated word. This word will conjure up the shape without having to redraw it.”
He poured some more water in his mug, pointed his finger, and whispered, “Solis.” The water vaporized.
Fritz pointed his finger but Boroda waved him off with an outburst. “Not yet!”
Fritz jerked his hand back.
“You have to memorize the shape,” Boroda admonished.
Fritz extended his finger and drew the shape.
Boroda studied the spell. “You memorized that quickly. I’m impressed.”
Fritz swelled with pride. He cast the spell, and the water hissed and turned to steam. He smiled with satisfaction but felt a draw on his energy.
For the next several hours, Boroda drew and Fritz copied. The wizard drew increasingly difficult shapes
, and Fritz retraced them perfectly after a few moments of study.
When sweat ran down Fritz’s forehead and his lines of magic turned to squiggles, Boroda stopped for a break.
“All the spinning shapes are making me dizzy,” Fritz confessed with a glazed look on his face.
“You can turn the vision off,” Boroda instructed. “Eventually, you will learn to focus only on the shapes you want to see.”
The swirls vanished and once again the air was as clear as it had always been. Fritz leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes until Boroda announced the end of the break.
Boroda pushed on with his lesson until dinner. He traveled them both to a café in a small village in the Southern Kingdom.
The owner greeted Boroda warmly, delivered their food without a word, then left.
Mounds of fresh cheese topped a tomato base with poultry, grilled vegetables, and tangy capers. Fritz consciously cut his food into smaller bites and chewed slowly. It was only through a conscious force of will that Fritz didn’t inhale his food.
After a few bites, Boroda said, “Your fellow apprentices have already had the benefit of several years’ training. As a future member of The Order, you will need to prove you have the skills and power to keep up. You don’t want to be the weak link.
“Each member of The Order has a specialty, and they are passing on that knowledge to their apprentice. Borya with flame, Sylvia with plants, and so on.” Boroda paused as the owner refilled his wine glass.
“Each apprentice has been studying magic since they were very young. They’ve mastered the basics and have begun to study their focus magic.
“When the apprentices meet in the garden, not only are they trying to ferret information about each other to tell their masters, but they are also demonstrating ability level. To some degree, they are learning to work with each other, although that is probably the least of their concerns.”
Fritz shifted his weight and kept his gaze low. “How long do you think it will take me to learn the basics?”
“At your current rate, not long,” he said. “However, it would behoove you to do some studying on your own.”
Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King Page 6