The Necromancer: The Reluctant Apprentice

by Rani Clark

  Jaska stared at him, “What?”

  “Vladimir Ragnar had a wife and kids. When he was young he was the best necromancer in the business, he rose to the top pretty damn fast. His wife never liked it. Pretty young thing. Too good for him. Anyway.”

  The man who had slept at his side last night was a killer, he knew that already, but he hadn’t known the depth of it. Jaska stared at Monarch, “That-that can’t be true.”

  Monarch shrugged, “You don’t have to believe me. I don’t really have a reason to lie. Ragnar could destroy me with a mere thought. I wouldn’t lie about him.”

  Mr. Ragnar cared about Leif. There weren’t very many things Jaska appreciated about his master, but at the very least he knew that Vladimir Ragnar cared about the young man he had saved years ago. Jaska stood, “I have to go. Thank you for disturbing my peace.”

  Jaska ran from the river. He would have run all the way home if he hadn’t been so weak. Leif was playing catch with Lantern while Mr. Ragnar read a book on the couch. Jaska stared at them. Mr. Ragnar looked up when he heard Jaska.

  “You’re back earlier than I expected,” the man said.

  Jaska’s heart began to pound at the thought of accusing Mr. Ragnar of something. Even asking seemed like a bad idea. An incredibly bad idea. He nodded, “It-it’s kind of cold.”

  “That it is. Are you up to practicing today? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  Jaska nodded, “I-I think I’ll just read some books. If that’s ok. I’m not feeling well.”

  “It’s fine. There is somewhere we need to be tonight though.”

  Jaska froze, “What?”

  Leif snickered, “He did this to me and I hated it. You get to meet some people.”

  “People?”

  Mr. Ragnar glared at Leif and then nodded, “Yes. I must present you to the Society of Necromancers. Even if you don’t end up doing this or liking it I have to. It’ll be fun.”

  Jaska took a step back, “You can’t make me.”

  Mr. Ragnar stood, “I have asked for very little. I don’t intend to force you into anything, but I must insist you go to this.”

  He spoke with authority, letting him know that this wasn’t a request. Jaska wiped his eyes, “Fine.” He turned, “I’m going to my room.”

  “Wait, we need to talk about this.”

  He stopped, his hand on the wall, “Sir, I don’t want to be paraded around the room, let alone in front of a bunch of people I don’t know. I hate it here.” He wiped his eyes furiously, not wishing to cry in front of Leif.

  “Leif,” Mr. Ragnar turned, “take Lantern for a walk why don’t you? Get him some candy. They like that sort of thing.”

  Jaska watched him leave. He had never seen Leif get ready so quickly. Mr. Ragnar sighed and put his hands on his hips, “Jaska, I have tried to be nice and friendly. I thought we were making progress, but I can’t keep making allowances for you. I won’t beat you into this, I won’t force you into doing something, but you need to give it a chance. Leif did even though he’s bad at it. Give necromancy a chance. Just . . . do this. Please. If you do this I’ll let you visit your family in a few weeks, sooner than planned.”

  “You-you will?”

  “Yes.”

  Jaska held his arm in a nervous manner. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Have I lied about anything else?”

  He looked down, “I guess not.”

  “Good. Be ready to leave at eight. I put your suit on your bed.”

  Jaska turned and walked up the steps, suddenly excited. He was going to get to see his family again and Ty. The suit on the bed was simple and he had been given a black tie. He really didn’t want to go to this party. Jaska wiped his eyes and looked at the clock. Reading for hours on end sounded like a good idea at this point so he picked up a thick book on the history of necromancy and curled up on the chair by the window.

  The history book was boring. He didn’t care about when necromancy started popping up in Europe during the twelfth century. As he read, however, he began to wonder what made Mr. Ragnar so powerful. He could feel the power radiating from his master when he was with him, especially now that he had been to the land of the dead. Jaska continued to read until he heard a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he called quietly.

  Leif came in carrying a tray, “I brought you some lunch. Your friend misses you.”

  Lantern leapt into the room and came at him, throwing his arms around Jaska’s waist with a coo. Leif set the tray down on the nightstand. “Thank you. I didn’t realize the time.”

  “No problem.” Leif sat on the bed, “Mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

  Jaska stood and picked up the sandwich, “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Good. It’s about that fight you had with Vladimir. I know that it seems awful to have to go to this party, but it isn’t that bad. Free food and you’ll get to meet a bunch of new people. You could even make some friends.”

  “I don’t want to make friends and I don’t want to do this.” He bit into the sandwich, trying to think of something else to say. “Why do you care what I’m doing?”

  “I care because of Vladimir. He isn’t trying to be mean.”

  “Too late.” He sipped his water, “Thanks for the lunch, Leif.”

  The young man took the hint and left. Jaska set his unfinished food back onto the plate, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” he said to Lantern. “What do you want to do?”

  Lantern scrambled over to the stack of books and began looking through them. He picked one out and trotted over. “Read you a story? Alright.” He took the book, “You seriously want to read about the land of the dead?”

  Lantern nodded and jumped up onto the bed. Jaska took the book and opened it, not all that interested in what he was reading about. Lantern began to fall asleep, Jaska soon followed only to be woken up when he heard a knock at the door. He stood and furiously got into his suit. When he burst from the door he nearly ran into Mr. Ragnar who looked sharply dressed in a grey suit.

  “You were asleep,” Mr. Ragnar said, straightening his tie.

  “Yes. Sorry, I was reading Lantern a story.” He looked apologetically at his feet, “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Relax, please.” Mr. Ragnar turned, “Don’t be nervous. This isn’t going to be terrible.”

  Jaska followed him, “Do I look ok?”

  “You look quite smart, Master Byrne.”

  “Thanks.”

  Leif was at the door, a smile plastered on his face, “I hope you two have fun. I’ll hold the fort, watch the little one.”

  Mr. Ragnar shook his head, “Stop being a pill.” He took his coat from the rack by the door, “We’ll be home late.”

  “Oki doki.” He held up Jaska’s coat for him, “Bring me back some pie, please. If they have any.”

  Mr. Ragnar squeezed his forearm before opening the door. Jaska waved to Leif and followed his master out. Mr. Ragnar hailed a cab as he stepped up to the curb. “I promise it isn’t as bad as Leif makes it out to be.”

  Jaska looked out the window as the cab made its way through the city. He couldn’t begin to guess what he would see when they made it to the party. What if he made an ass of himself? What if Mr. Ragnar was so disappointed he started being mean? There were so many ways he could screw this up.

  “Where is this thing anyway?” he asked the longer they were in the cab. The city was vanishing behind them and a country road stretched out before them.

  “A manor in the country. I thought I mentioned that.” Mr. Ragnar looked out the window, “It’s called Mortum Manor.”

  “Death Manor? So necromancers are comedians too?”

  Mr. Ragnar chuckled, “The person that owns the manor thought it was funny. His son did not, but thankfully his daughter picked up the necromancer lifestyle.”

  Jaska poked his head out of the window when he noticed a house in the distance. The house became bigger and bigger until it loomed ov
er them. The manor was surrounded by an iron fence, little black headstones decorated the top of the fence. The gate creaked open to allow the carriage in. Jaska looked around to see a thick forest surrounding the house. When the carriage stopped, Mr. Ragnar got out quickly. Jaska followed him, nearly tripping on his way down the two steps.

  Now that he was closer to the house he saw the black and grey stained glass windows. There were scenes of cemeteries and forlorn churches. Jaska noticed forest green throughout the grey and black windows. There were skulls and headstones decorating the property. Jaska looked back at the gloomy landscaping, marveling at how dismal a place could look.

  He followed his master up the stone steps. Mr. Ragnar knocked on the ornate door with the skull knocker.

  “What am I supposed to introduce myself as?”

  “Jaska. Unless you have another name?”

  “That’s . . . actually funny,” he muttered.

  The door swung open to reveal a gaunt butler, “Welcome,” he said in a deep voice. “How may I-?”

  The butler was shoved gently aside and a stunning woman nearly tackled Mr. Ragnar to the ground. Jaska watched as she kissed him. “Someone forgot to mention something,” Jaska muttered.

  “You know, I don’t live that far away,” she said, her voice like bells. “You told me not to come by because of Leif and now-”

  “Can we talk about it later?” He cleared his throat, “I would like to introduce you to my new apprentice.”

  The woman was wearing a tight black dress that complimented her curvy shape. She turned to Jaska, “Oh. Hello,” she smiled. Jaska already liked her. “I’m Camille Evanna Hallows the Third. Please, call me Freddie.”

  “Freddie?”

  “It’s a pet name.” She moved her head to indicate that Mr. Ragnar was the one who called her that. “Or Miss Hallows if you’re more comfortable with that. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m Jaska Byrne.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jaska. Come on in! The party is just getting started. You will never guess who showed up!”

  Jaska had never seen Mr. Ragnar as human before. It was strange seeing him with a vibrant woman, or any woman as a matter of fact. Freddie took his master’s arm as they walked. “Is there anyone my age or just adults?” he asked.

  “Lots of teens. None quite as cute as you though.”

  He smiled at the compliment as they walked through two large doors into a ballroom. There were more people than he would have thought. Women and men were talking as others danced to the dismal song the orchestra was playing. He noticed there were a lot more women here than men. Banners were hanging next to each window, they all had the same symbol on them: a skeleton crawling out of an old grave with a full moon in the dark sky. Jaska looked around at the many tables laden with food and drinks. Waiters walked around with drinks and food on trays.

  “Jaska, I’m going to borrow your master for a bit. Go and grab something to eat, introduce yourself to a few people. No one’s going to bite.”

  Jaska didn’t want Mr. Ragnar to leave him, but he didn’t protest. He sidled over to one of the tables and stood with a glass of cider in his hand. He turned and looked at the crowd. No one bothered to notice him and for that he was glad. He may have had silver hair, but he was good at blending in to the background.

  “You look new.”

  The voice made him turn. An old man had come up to stand beside him, leaning on a cane for support. The man had thick, flowing hair the color of fresh snow. His wrinkles were deep and his nose was long and hooked. Jaska was certain this man was over seventy, perhaps pushing eighty and he was pale even for a necromancer. There was a girl at his side helping him walk. She was wearing a short black dress that was only slightly darker than her skin.

  “Um, yes, I am new. How did you know?”

  The man chuckled, “I’ve been around the block a few times.” He held out his hand, “I’m Allan Kircher. This is my granddaughter, Alice Night.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jaska Byrne, Mr. Ragnar’s apprentice.”

  Alice gave him a slightly cheery frown, “You look terrified,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “Sort of.” He cleared his throat, “Did-did you say Kircher?”

  “I did. Why?”

  “Are you related to someone named Elias Kircher?”

  Allan Kircher blinked quickly, “You know my son? You can’t know my son.”

  “I do know your son. He lives in Germany and makes clocks. Right?”

  Alice patted her grandfather’s arm, “My uncle isn’t someone of pride in our family.”

  “If it makes you feel any better he was pretty nice to me.” He knew it wouldn’t make anyone feel better. “You’re a necromancer?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “A very old one, but one none the less,” he chuckled. “Alice is my apprentice.”

  Jaska didn’t ask about Elias not being a necromancer. He could guess the gene had skipped the child predator or he hadn’t wanted to participate. He wasn’t sure how it worked quite yet. “Do you know Mr. Ragnar?”

  “Mostly the stories, I’ve met him once or twice. He is an incredibly powerful man. I never thought he would take an apprentice. Well, not after what happened with Leif. That boy was a mistake in an apprentice.”

  “Leif is nice though.”

  “He is, but not suited to necromancy.” Allan Kircher smiled and took a drink from a passing waiter. “Alice, why not introduce him to some of the other apprentices?”

  “Are you sure, grandpa?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. I should say hello to a few people.”

  Alice nodded, “Ok. If you’re sure. Come on, Jaska.”

  Jaska followed her to a group of young people standing by the window. They ranged in age from twelve to twenty and were all laughing and talking. Alice rolled her eyes and went up to the group. One of the older apprentices looked over. He was tall, slender, and pale with blond hair and vivid blue eyes.

  “Alice, didn’t expect to see ya here,” he remarked with an arrogant smile, his Boston accent thick. His eyes fell on Jaska, “And who is this?”

  Jaska shifted uncomfortably at the look he was being given. He didn’t think he liked this person. “I’m Jaska Byrne.”

  “Hello Jaska, I’m-”

  “Disgustingly horny,” Alice muttered. “Ignore Jackson. He’ll say anything to get into your pants. Most of us are smart enough to ignore him.”

  “Regardless, it’s nice to meet you Jackson,” Jaska said in an attempt to be polite.

  “And so polite. Hang on, did you say Ragnar?”

  “Yes. Mr. Ragnar is my master.”

  “Nice. He’s powerful, you’re in for a treat.” Jackson turned, “I’ll introduce ya to everyone. That’s Gina, reds really her color isn’t it?” He winked at a chubby red-headed girl who gave him the finger, “The small kid is Abberline.”

  Jaska only half paid attention to who he was being introduced to. Jackson was standing too close. What about him attracted men? Not that he had feelings either way, but he was beginning to wonder why most girls had never given him a second look save for Emma and Alice. Jaska shrugged it off. Jackson was in for a rude awakening when he didn’t get what he wanted.

  “How old do apprentices have to be to become full necromancers?” he asked.

  Jackson shrugged, “It depends. Usually around twenty-five for most people unless they’re exceptionally powerful.”

  “Twenty . . . twenty-five?”

  “Yes. Ya sound American. Are ya from there?”

  “I’m from Maine.”

  “Maine, huh? Boston. As if you couldn’t tell.”

  He smiled, “Are your parents Necromancers?”

  “Nah.” He grabbed a drink from one of the waiters who walked by, “Found out I had the gift and my parents found me a teacher. So here I am. How are ya liking things so far?”

  Jaska shrugged, “I don’t really have a preference.”

  “Ya don’t?” He
leaned against the wall with a smile, “That’s good news. How did ya get into this anyway?”

  “Mr. Ragnar forced me into this. I didn’t want to do it and I don’t think I have a knack for it anyway.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow, “Forced ya how?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jaska took a sip of his cider, “How old are you? I mean, how far away are you from becoming a necromancer?”