“Don’t worry about it?” It was the roly-poly boy from first period who had passed Faruk’s note. “Perrin’s ghost is real.” He looked at Fritz with sincerity. “A student died in the woods, and he haunts anyone who goes out there.”
Marzi scowled. “Edward was the freshman they picked to haze last year.”
“Only I wasn’t a freshman last year.” He scowled. “I was a junior just like you all.”
Faruk ran toward the vault, launched into the air, flipped, and landed in a perfect roll.
“Aye, that’s good,” McGregor exclaimed.
“What happened to him? The student that died, I mean,” Fritz asked out of the corner of his mouth.
McGregor looked up, and Fritz hid his mouth by scratching his nose.
“Nothing! Because it didn’t happen,” Marzi said with a harsh whisper.
“It did too,” Edward argued.
Marzi was three people away from the springboard.
“My brother was in school when it happened.” Edward’s eyes stared intensely behind his thick spectacles.
“Oy!” McGregor yelled, and the three stopped talking and stared forward.
Nicholaus vaulted, turned a flip, and landed with a perfect stance. He winked at Gelé as he walked off the mat.
Gelé rolled her eyes and shot him a coy glance. She vaulted into the air and flipped in reverse. She landed, went into a back roll, and launched into two back handsprings. As she walked off the mat, she held up her hands in a triumphant shrug at Nicholaus.
Two boys on either side poked him in the ribs, making rude comments and gestures about his manliness. Nicholaus pushed them away and flashed Gelé a cocky grin.
Gelé flipped her hair and walked to the back of the line.
Marzi was next. She did a simple flip, clean and graceful, and walked off the mat, her face stoic.
Fritz flipped off the vault and barely made the rotation. He landed and wind-milled his arms but stumbled backward on the mat.
“Tuck harder off the jump, Drosselmeyer,” McGregor called.
Edward followed but missed the jump, caught his feet on the springboard platform, and landed chest first on the mat. He grunted, then rolled over, trying to catch his breath.
“Use your legs, Edward,” McGregor yelled. “And tuck your chin.”
“All of them,” Nicholaus baited from the back of the line. He and his friends laughed as Edward crawled off the mat.
Up ahead, Andor, easily a foot taller than everyone else, clumsily jumped on the springboard in preparation for a vault. The wooden contraption snapped under his weight and an errant spring shot out across the mat.
McGregor reached up and smoothed his mustache with slow, deliberate strokes. His right eye twitched.
“Class is over,” he announced.
Students immediately began chatting loudly.
“If you want me to show you the library, meet me in the lobby after you change,” Marzi told Fritz, then turned and left.
Fritz promised to meet her there and started toward the boy’s changing room.
Edward raced up and joined him.
“I’m Edward.” He extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Drosselmeyer.” Fritz shook his hand.
“I’m the youngest in my family,” Edward said. “I have three older brothers and all of them have attended St. Michael’s.”
“It’s my first day here.”
“Yeah, everyone knows,” Edward said, then added, “We all want to know who your dad is.”
“My dad?” Fritz asked as he opened his locker.
“Yeah. What nation are you from? Is your dad royalty or military?” Edward asked and began dressing.
“Oh …” Fritz stammered. “I live with my uncle. My mom’s brother.”
Edward blinked but didn’t say anything.
“I’m not actually sure what he does,” Fritz responded truthfully.
“My dad is a duke and the ambassador from the Southern Kingdom. I live a few miles away in the embassy.”
“My uncle lives …” Fritz paused. “Somewhere close by. I live with him.”
Edward checked to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in and whispered, “My oldest brother, Richard, was in the same class as Perrin. The story is true.”
They picked up their bags, exited the locker room, and headed toward the main building across the lawn.
“Are you sure your brother wasn’t just trying to scare you?”
“He was serious,” Edward said. “Richard told me that …”
“Edward,” Nicholaus spoke the boy’s name in a slow, Slavic accent.
Both Edward and Fritz turned toward Nicholaus.
He was standing casually in a small circle of students. His two friends, Evgeny and Oleg, flanked him. Faruk, Gelé, and Vivienne completed the round. They all turned to look at Edward.
“You are the smartest one in gym,” he called out. “We all …” he motioned in the air to include the whole school, “trust only in the mat to catch us when we fall, but you bring extra padding with you.”
The students rewarded him with guffaws and slaps.
“Keep working, Edward,” he continued. “Someday you will be an important part of the Southern Army. Perhaps a horse?”
His friends laughed, Vivienne giggled, and Gelé offered an uncomfortable smile. Faruk remained stone-faced.
Edward clenched his jaw. His face turned red, and he stormed away.
“What is the matter?” Nicholaus called after him.
Edward kept walking.
Nicholaus covered the territory between himself and Edward in a few, long strides. He spun Edward around. “I’m talking to you.”
“Leave him alone,” Fritz said through clenched teeth, eyes locked firmly on the ground.
Nicholaus stood full figure and puffed his chest out. “Or what?”
Fritz kept his gaze low and didn’t respond.
“Or what?” Nicholaus repeated, voice tinged with anger.
Fritz caught the prince’s eye briefly and looked away again.
Nicholaus’s friends began to whisper, and the boy glanced from them to Fritz. His head shook as his rage grew, and he pulled his fist back for a strike, yelling, “Or what?”
Fritz had been struck so many times in the last week by Boroda that his mind stopped, and his body took over. He ducked under the swing, jumped in closer to the tall boy’s frame, and delivered four swift punches from the lower abdomen all the way up to the rib cage.
Nicholaus grunted in successive bursts. He tried to breathe in fresh air to replace the lost supply, but his body didn’t respond. He fell on the lawn and clawed the ground.
Evgeny and Oleg raced toward Fritz but McGregor’s booming voice stopped them short. With a stern scowl, McGregor said, “I think we’re done here.”
Everyone looked at the large, bearded man whose arms were folded across his broad chest.
“Evgeny, Oleg, take Nicholaus to see the nurse. Probably nothing more than a bruised ego.”
The boys helped the prince off the ground. “You’re dead,” he snarled at Fritz and Edward as he limped away.
“Are you satisfied, Drosselmeyer?” McGregor asked with a raised eyebrow.
Fritz nodded.
“I can’t hear you, lad.”
“Yes, sir,” Fritz said.
“Good. Now get going, and if I ever catch you fighting again, it’s the headmaster for both of you.”
“Thanks for that,” Edward said after they had left the field.
Fritz kept his head low and picked up his pace.
Edward adjusted his glasses. “You’d better be careful. I think Nicholaus meant what he said about killing you. He’ll come after you and not even the school will stop him.”
“Thanks. I think I can look out for myself,” said Fritz.
Edward shook his head, “Even the adults don’t mess with Nicholaus.”
“How old are you?” Fritz asked suddenly.
E
dward looked away, cheeks flushed. “Thirteen. I’m supposed to be in the eighth grade, but I skipped three grades when I was in elementary. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” Fritz shrugged. “I thought smart kids would be the most popular in a school.”
“It’s not that helpful when people can just beat you up,” Edward countered. “It’s better to be strong.”
Fritz didn’t argue.
He patted Edward on the shoulder. “I have to meet Marzi in the library. See you tomorrow.”
They parted ways, and Fritz jogged toward the library doors.
Marzi met him across from the librarian’s desk and led him up to the third floor. They wove through a tangle of shelves to a corner where an arched door frame opened into a small room located in a turret.
The rounded walls had additional shelves built into the stone. Iron light fixtures, an old patinated mirror, and a long, Gothic, stained glass window lined the rough-hewn timber ribs.
“How was your first day?” Marzi asked.
“Fine … I guess,” Fritz said and sat on the couch. He stared up at the crossbeams of the ceiling and the dark void above.
“How are things going with Boroda?” she asked casually.
Fritz pulled some books and a pencil from his bag. “Good … I guess.”
“Is he better than your first wizard?” she asked again.
“My first?” Fritz asked, confused.
Marzi’s eyes widened. “Boroda is your first wizard? You’re really old to be new. Are you sure you haven’t trained with anyone else?”
“I don’t think I should be talking about it,” Fritz stuttered.
Marzi waved him off.
“Everyone in The Order is extremely secretive.” She brushed her hair back, and Fritz felt his pulse quicken.
“Yeah. I know. It’s really, uh …” Fritz trailed off as Marzi removed her jacket.
“I snapped when I was five,” she said. “Hanja took me a few months later.”
“Mm-hmm.” Fritz tried to look away from her long neck and the silver dragon pendant just peeking out from her shirt.
“I don’t remember anything about my childhood before Hanja,” she continued. “I think the hardest part is not knowing who my family is.” She adjusted her skirt to lay flat across her legs and set a book on her lap. “What’s the hardest thing for you so far?”
Fritz looked away from her long legs, blushed, and rested both elbows on his knees. “I, um … I almost got killed by an ape.”
He groaned and clapped his hand over his mouth.
The playful smile on Marzi’s mouth melted. A strand of hair fell loose, and she made no move to brush it back. She didn’t move at all.
“Please don’t tell anyone I said that!” Fritz begged. “I am so bad at keeping secrets. Please! Boroda will kill me. Please, promise me you won’t tell.”
Marzi spoke somberly. “I promise.”
“Thank you,” Fritz sighed. “I really shouldn’t …”
“Tell me about the ape,” she commanded.
“What?” Fritz asked. “I probably shouldn’t talk about that either.”
“You’ve already started. Just tell me about it.” Marzi gripped her book so tightly, her knuckles turned white.
Fritz sighed. “Ok. But do you promise …”
“Yes, I promise,” she snapped. “Just tell me about the ape.”
Fritz jumped at her outburst, then told her the story.
“Here’s the weird thing,” Fritz finished. “Boroda says that nobody knows where he lives. No one ever visits him.”
Marzi looked confused. “Why is that weird? Nobody knows where Hanja and I live. Every wizard in The Order has several houses, and all of them are a secret. You have to have one place where you can relax and not worry about getting attacked.”
Fritz laughed. “Well, apparently, Boroda’s house wasn’t it.”
“Drosselmeyer, that’s not funny,” Marzi scolded.
Fritz shrank back.
“A wizard’s house is the most closely guarded secret, second only to their name,” she said. “When the wizards of The Order get attacked in their homes, it’s a serious matter.”
Fritz cocked his head. “Who said anything about wizards?” He accented the plural. “Did you get attacked?”
Marzi’s skin flushed white.
“You DID, didn’t you?” Fritz pointed his finger. “Come on,” he said, guilting her, “I told you my story.”
Marzi stood up and walked to the window, then paced to the opposite wall. “Can I trust you?”
A vein in Fritz’s forehead pulsed visibly. “Yes!” he said.
“We got attacked, too.”
Fritz gaped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. It was a week ago. A Kano dragon completely burned the stables and killed most of our animals before Hanja and I could kill it. Hanja doesn’t kill anything unless she has to,” she explained. “Like your ape, Kano dragons are not violent unless provoked. They live with humans easily and prey mostly on rodents. The only reason one would attack a human would be if it were …” She stopped.
“If it were—under mind control?” Fritz asked.
Marzi nodded.
“Do you think the others have been attacked?” Fritz asked.
Marzi shrugged.
“Do you think we should warn them?”
“No!” Marzi said suddenly, then calmed. “No. Not yet, anyway. Hanja says not to trust any of them.”
“Boroda says the same thing,” Fritz added.
“Power makes people—even allies—do crazy things,” Marzi said and sat back down on the couch.
“Isn’t the point of us gathering in the garden while The Order meets to build trust?” Fritz asked her. “That game you all played with the flower and ice?”
Marzi shook her head. “No. Well, I mean, that game of adding to the spell is supposed to help us work together, but none of us use magic remotely close to what we’re capable of.
“We don’t want to show our real strength in case we ever …” She stopped.
“In case we ever what?” Fritz prodded.
Marzi dodged the question. “Your move last time was brilliant. Even Faruk was impressed.”
“Really?” Fritz waited for the punchline.
“Don’t act surprised!” she shot back. “We were all trying to see what you were capable of, and you just threw mud. I mean, we all know the entire game is a charade. It was a genius move.”
“Oh … yeah … I wondered if anyone caught that,” Fritz covered.
Marzi stared up into the rafters. “Imagine what would happen if we actually did trust each other? Just think of all the good a group like The Order could do.”
“Are they not already doing good? World peace is good, right?”
Marzi laughed, and the pellucid sound rang in Fritz’s ears. “World peace. That’s funny,” she said. “The Order advises the world leaders to do what’s best for The Order.”
“So, I take it you’re not a fan, then?”
“I am. Sort of,” she quickly retracted. “I just wish it was less about how The Order can become powerful and wealthy and more about helping people with our magic.”
“Like what, then? If world peace isn’t good enough for you,” Fritz teased.
Marzi lay back on the couch and threw her arms wide. “We could enchant statues with healing spells or have heated stones for the winter time or water purification spells. The possibilities are endless.”
She sat up straight. “What are you smiling like that for?”
Fritz closed his mouth. “I’m not smiling.”
Marzi looked up at the dim light coming through the windows. “It’s getting late. We’d better go. See you tomorrow?”
Without realizing it, Fritz smiled.
“You’re smiling weird again,” she said. She picked up her jacket and bag. They said goodbye outside the school and walked away in opposite directions.
Fritz watched her round a cor
ner and then skipped to the hedge. He traveled to the front door of Boroda’s estate as he hummed his Pickety Wickett tune from the night before.
Boroda appeared in a roiling cloud of smoke. “Meet me in the training room. Now.”
Fritz yelped in fright, hands raised, then traveled to the room.
“Your first day, Fritz! Your first day, and you’ve already made trouble,” Boroda yelled as soon as he stepped from his misty cloud.
“What are you talking about?” Fritz asked.
Boroda spun to face him. “I’m talking about Nicholaus!”
“Who told?” Fritz demanded. “Mr. McGregor said …”
“Who told?! That’s your first response?” Boroda roared.
“Nicholaus was being a jerk and picking on my friend for no reason,” Fritz yelled back. “I was just sticking up for my friend.”
Boroda thrust his hand out, and a spell slammed Fritz against the wall.
He gasped for breath, searching his memory for a counter spell to stop the crushing force.
“Nicholaus is the son of Czar Nicholaus, who happens to be my advisee!” Boroda said. “It is not your place to teach him a lesson. Do you understand me?”
Fritz couldn’t breathe. His legs were dangling inches above the floor, and the pressure of Boroda’s spell crushed down on his chest. “You’re hurting me,” he finally choked.
Boroda stopped pushing and stepped back. The rage softened to a mild annoyance. “From now on, leave Nicholaus to do as he pleases.”
Fritz agreed, clutching his ribcage. They can do whatever they want to you because you belong to them.
“Go dress for training and meet me back here. We have work to do.”
After three hours of combat, spells, and enchantments, they traveled to the kitchen and ate supper in chilly silence.
“Boroda?” Fritz broke the silence.
Boroda looked up from his plate.
“Are there such things as ghosts?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
Fritz shrugged. “Kids at school were talking about a ghost that haunts the woods. I’m just wondering if they actually exist.”
“No.”
“That makes me feel better.” Fritz relaxed. “Several of the students are freaked out about Perrin’s ghost.”
Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King Page 9