The Reluctant Mage: Book One in the Zandar Series

by R. E. Donnellan

  Marko walked back to the mirror holding the unusual sword. “This does not look like any sword I know.”

  “That is a rapier. It is the weapon of gentlemen. Think of the type of weapon you use.”

  Marko thought of his short sword. When he looked down at his hands, he was now holding it. It looked exactly the same down to where the eagle was scratched off.

  “Now that we have gotten that out of the way. I need you to ask me to enter your mind.”

  “What do you mean? I am dreaming. You are already into my mind. Or at least I am dreaming you up. Same thing, really.”

  His image chuckled. “Think what you will about who and what I am. That is not important now. I am limited in how intrusive I can be with your mind. To actually teach you the sword, I have to guide your movement. You will lose the ability to control your body. I will be in control. So, again may I enter your mind?”

  “Well, I guess so. I still don’t…”

  Marko’s sentence stopped. He looked at himself in the mirror but could not move. He tried to take a step away from the mirror but his legs would not obey.

  “Don’t worry. You are all right. I am in control. Now I am going to start by taking you through a series of sword forms. This will loosen you up. If your mind is to learn, it must be confused. It must think that you are actually doing these forms. Your mind believes what you tell it. Now watch.”

  To Marko, it was like he was in a wagon watching a teamster next to him drive. He experienced every move but he was just along for the ride. The first two forms looked familiar to Marko. They were forms his father taught him and ones he practiced regularly. The third was completely foreign. It involved as much kicking and punching with his elbows as it did thrusting and slashing with his sword.

  By the time he/they were finished, he was thoroughly soaked. He also found that he was in control of his body. “I could tell you were not used to that last form. That was called the Ples. It allows you to fight in tight spaces and when you are so exhausted that you cannot deliver killing blows with you sword.”

  “It was strange watching me do those moves. But how does that help me? I mean you were doing them. I will just forget when I wake up.”

  “You will remember everything I did at a very deep level. The more that you perform a move, the easier it will be to both copy and decide when to use it. Now I want you to practice that last form. Try to remember exactly how I did it. If it does not feel right, then repeat from the last point that felt right.”

  It took Marko at least three times longer to complete the form. He had to regularly repeat areas that did not feel right. When he was done, he was literally dripping wet.

  “That was not bad for your first try. Having practice with the sword helped. It should also allow you to learn faster. When you practice in the real world, focus on your kicks. That is your biggest area of improvement. You should be able to control the exact point where your kicks do the most damage. Remember to end your kick past your target. If you are kicking a kneecap, end your kick behind your adversary’s knee.”

  Chapter X: The Imperial Orphanage

  After the best night’s sleep he had in weeks, Marko woke up to his uncle’s light shoves. “Get up, Marko. Get used to waking up before dawn. The sooner you get used to it, the easier it will be for you at the school.”

  Marko started to get out of his bed, but was stopped by his aching body.

  Was that from practicing in my sleep or a lumpy mattress?

  Marko changed into his cleanest set of clothes, packed a small backpack of his essentials and proudly strapped on this short sword. He followed his uncle down to the common room for a light breakfast of bread and cheese. “I’ll be back in three months m’boy. I will check in on you to make sure you are getting settled in.”

  “Thanks Uncle Kris. I appreciate everything you are doing for me. I will try to represent the family well.”

  “I am sure you will, never doubted it for a moment. Now let’s get you there before classes start.”

  They left the inn and walked up the hill on Simmons Street. Marko wondered who Simmons was and what he did to deserve a street named after him. After several minutes, they started walking alongside a tall wall made up of red stones. At the top of the wall were small statues of men spaced every ten yards or so. He almost bumped into his uncle as he was studying the statues.

  They had stopped at a large gate. The two doors were made of a dark wood banded in some kind of metal. His uncle rapped loudly on one of the doors and waited. Marko looked up the street and saw that people were beginning to walk to work and run their errands. He turned around when a door in the larger gate he had not noticed opened up. A slightly stooped man peered through the door at his uncle and then Marko.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “Thank you, yes,” his uncle replied. “I have here a new student for you. I would like to speak with the headmaster to arrange for his tuition and boarding.”

  The man looked quickly at Marko. “Certainly, sir. Please follow me. The headmaster should be in his office.”

  Marko followed the two men through a wide courtyard in the shape of a large rectangle. The courtyard was surrounded by three-story buildings made out of the same red stone as the wall. The courtyard itself was made of crushed stone, probably slate, he guessed. The man led the two of them to the far building at the end of the courtyard. He saw several men departing from the front entrance. Each man was wearing a dark blue tunic and carrying books.

  The man led then through the front door and up a wide staircase to the third floor. He stopped at a desk were a boy roughly the same age as Marko was sitting. “Baltar, we have a new student with us. Would you check to see if Headmaster Sorrell is available?”

  “Yes, Teacher Milsevic. One moment, please.” The boy got up from his desk, walked over to a slightly opened door and quietly went inside. Here was there for only a moment, when he came back and gave him a nod.

  The three of them walked into a large office. Both sides were lined with tall bookshelves. At the end off the office was a large desk with a man getting up from behind it.

  “Welcome to the Imperial Orphanage. I am Headmaster Sorrell. I have been told that you have a boy that would like to enroll?”

  “Yes, Headmaster. I am Professor Norac of Comte. I would like to enroll my nephew here, Marko Kunich. I have all the necessary fees available for payment.”

  “Certainly, Professor, certainly. And how old is Marko?”

  “He turns fifteen next month. I know he is starting here late, but I have verified his bookwork. In fact I would consider him slightly ahead of standard. His mother is a former student at the Universite and has tutored young Marko since he was a babe. As far as blade skills, he is advanced. Deficient in the bow, I am afraid.”

  “Still, much better prepared than most candidates. Advanced with a blade you say? That could be very helpful. I am afraid we missed our quota to the army last semester. Baltar! Take Marko Kunich here to the quartermaster to get his kit and then take him to the barracks and show him a locker. If you hurry, you can drop him off at the dining hall. He has half a mark before breakfast closes. I will work through the details with his uncle.”

  Marko’s uncle gave him a wink and then nodded to the door. Marko followed Baltar down the stairs to the first floor. They turned left and went down a long hallway. They stopped at door with a sign of a crossed sword and key hanging next to it. “This is our quartermaster’s office.” said Baltar. “He is out today ‘cause his wife is sick. I know what you need, though. Let me put your kit together and we can get you situated.”

  After Marko had his bedroll, two pairs of clothes, boots a gray tunic, and a towel, Baltar walked him to a building at the back of the property. He led him up two flights of stairs to a large room with bunk beds. There must have been fifty beds at least in the room.

  “First years sleep on this floor. Technically you are a first year until you pass your examinations. After that, they
will move you down a floor with the browns. Your bed and locker are here in the front. All the others are taken. You get the draftiest one, sorry. Just change into your uniform and put the rest in your locker. We’ll get you down to the commissary for breakfast.”

  Marko put on the “grays” as they were called. The pants and shirt were made of wool. The gray tunic was also made of wool but was fringed with a cotton cord. In the upper right of the tunic, there was a small patch embroidered with an eagle. He looked at it closely and realized it was the symbol of the Emperor. He looked up at Baltar with a gleam in his eyes.

  “Don’t think you’re some Imperial general leading armies now.” He laughed. “That just means that the Emperor owns you now. No one is lower than an Imperial orphan in grays.”

  “Well it beats living in a cave,” Marko said defensively.

  Baltar laughed. “Well in that case, congratulations on your ascendency! Let’s get your Imperial stomach full. Come to think of it, maybe I can introduce you to some of the other students. If I am lucky, I won’t have to return to the headmaster’s office for another mark!”

  They walked around the building in front of them and across the courtyard. Their final destination was a building just behind one of the main buildings.

  “Think of the orphanage as two half circles. The inner circle is the one around the courtyard. That’s where we have our classrooms and where the professors live. The outer ring is where we have barracks, eat and train. The courtyard is really just there to get our feet sore as we traipse all over the compound. Sometimes the whites will have reviews and of course the selections are done there.”

  Marko just looked at Baltar like he was speaking another language.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I should take it slow for now. Don’t worry, you will learn all about this quickly. The color of your clothes designates your progress at the orphanage. Gray is for the first years and those that have not passed the progression test. The browns come after that and then the reds like mine. If you see anyone wearing white, then they will be tested within six months for graduation. If they pass, they will start one of various careers. If they fail…well, the Empire needs people to build roads, don’t they?”

  “The men you see in blue are the professors or administrators. Always call them “sir” if you don’t want any trouble. Some of them can be touchy,” he laughed.

  When they entered the commissary, Marko noticed that there were only a few tables occupied. He immediately realized that only like color sat together at long wooden tables. “Let’s get some chow and I’ll introduce you to some grays.”

  They walked over to a window against one wall. A server gave them their breakfast on a large plate. Marko looked down at a couple of sausage links, bread and a hardboiled egg. He could get used to this!

  They walked over to the only table with students wearing grays. “Gentlemen. This here is Marko Kunich. Just joined us from the savage frontier where he has been murdering Kastav dogs by the score. Marko, here are the saddest lot of boys you will ever see. Don’t let them train you in their corrupt ways.”

  “Baltar. You hurt us to our core,” a boy cried in mock indignation. “Why just this moment we were discussing ways we could help you reds to die your clothes to pure white. Goodness knows that is the only way you will ever wear another color.”

  Baltar took the ribbing in good nature. “Just keep him on the straight and narrow boys.” He took his tray and walked over to a table where two students in red were quietly talking.

  “Me name’s Tiber. There’s is Boris, Ivan and Vlad. Have a seat. Kunich, huh? Sounds like you are an honest lowborn like ourselves.”

  “Well, if living in a small village and cave is lowborn, then that pretty much sums me up. Who does that leave?” said Marko.

  “You will meet them soon enough. There are a few here. Mainly cast offs of some nobleman or politician.”

  Marko spent the rest of his breakfast talking with the three classmates. Both Tiber and Vlad were also from outlying villages. Ivan was born in Rau City and had lived here all his life. He was the only true orphan of the group. He was found in the susjedstvo, the local slum. He had been at the orphanage for ten years while the other two had both been there for four.

  Chapter XI: The Book

  At the end of breakfast, Teacher Milsevic came into the commissary and walked directly to Marko. “Mr. Kunich, I have prepared a schedule of your classes. I will walk you to your first class. I also have a copy of the Orphanage’s rules. We expect all students to learn all rules by the end of the first week. The headmaster and your teachers will not tolerate any breaking of the rules. The first one I will tell you right now. You are not allowed to leave the compound without written permission from the headmaster or one of the teachers. Now, let’s get you to class.”

  They did not have to walk far. Marko’s first class was in the building behind the commissary. It was a small building. He guessed there might be three classrooms total. Like all buildings in the compound, it was made of red stone. There was a circular wood sign with the name “Le Savant” painted on it. His escort pointed to the first door on the right as he entered the building. The classroom was small. There were twelve students all sitting in long tables facing the front.

  “Teacher Macon, we have a new student here named Marko Kunich. He will be attending first period with you.”

  “Very well, Teacher. Mr. Kunich, please take any open seat. This morning we will discuss the concept of taxation on imported goods.” Marko noticed several boys roll their eyes with the teacher’s pronouncement. Marko did not recognize any of his new acquaintances in the room, so he selected a chair in the back. The teacher turned around and faced a slate board attached to the wall. He began drawing diagrams of people and various goods, drawing arrows all over the place connecting all of the symbols. He had trouble understanding the concept until he was singled out by the Teacher.

  “Mr. Kunich. Imagine you were supposed to tax the goods coming off a ship from Kiev. How would you do it?”

  “Well sir, I guess I would start by looking at the goods in his ship.”

  “Why not just accept a list of goods from the ship’s captain? After all, he had already counted all the goods himself. Don’t you think the Emperor has better things to assign to his clerks?”

  “Yes sir, I mean no, sir,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe the captain made a mistake, or some of the goods spoiled…or maybe he claimed he had goods that were taxed at a different rate.” Marko remembered stories his father told of miners trying to claim the silver they brought into the village was actually iron ore in order to pay a lower tariff.

  “Precisely! I want all of you to remember this lesson. The Emperor assigns us to a duty because it is vitally necessary to the successful functioning of the Empire. If clerk Kunich decides to accept the captain’s manifest, the Emperor might lose out on hundreds of golds of tariff. Hundreds. He could feed a battalion in the field for weeks.”

  The rest of Marko’s classes went similarly to the first. All the teachers lectured about how things were done. From taxing merchants to laying a foundation for a building, he could appreciate how this knowledge could help in a career. It still did not change the fact that most classes were boring. He was not used to sitting in a room and being spoken to for hours on end. He did enjoy reading the assignments from the books he was given that evening.

  What really interested him was the first class listed on the schedule for tomorrow: Practice with Steel.

  Marko woke up excited. Then he realized he was wearing the silver robe again.

  “Have you been practicing?” asked the voice from the mirror.

  “Uh, hello, Stranac. I have not had time. I just came to an orphanage and they put me into classes. I will…”

  “I don’t need to hear your life’s story Marko. Remember, to effectively imprint these practice sessions into your brain, you need to practice. Now, give me control. We have a lot work to do.”

  Chapter
XII: The Steel

  Early the next morning, Marko rushed to the commissary to find his new friends. They were sitting at the same table as yesterday but there were a few more grays dining with them. After they got the introductions out of the way (although he recognized all of them from classes the previous day), Marko asked if any of them were going to join him in the morning’s class.

  “Yep, that’s my class too,” said Ivan sitting across from him. “Teacher Blasc will give you a sword, although don’t expect too much. We orphans don’t exactly get the pick of the litter.”

  “That’s ok. I have an old Imperial blade my uncle gave to me.”

  All the conversation at the table stopped. Marko looked around and was shocked to see everyone at the table staring at him.

  “You have an Imperial blade? Only citizens working for the Emperor can wield one of those. How in all creation did your uncle get his hands on one?”