by Iaz Grant
"Alex Bastian," said Max returning the stern look.
"You've just signed up for the competition," whispered Alex looking straight into Max's eyes. "Such a mistake!"
"Are you worried, Alex?" asked Max.
"Yes, I am," replied Alex with the same threatening look. "For your life."
Max did not manage to answer these words as Alyndra interfered.
"Alex Bastian," she said standing up from his desk and showing her height, "this is a friendly competition. Each student can take part in it."
"Yes, Alyndra," said Alex, "of course."
He threw the last look at Max, turned around and left the forest room.
"Don't pay too much attention to him," said the elf sitting back behind her desk. "People like Alex Bastian are envious and angry because they want to succeed in something but do not have enough talent."
"I know," said Max. "I'm not worrying about him."
"Alex Bastian has been taking part in the School League for the last three years," kept on Alyndra, "but he always prepared average food. There are rumors that he has gained practice studying somewhere. And as he decides that this year the trophy is his, the son of the legendary chef is stepping in. That would make anyone angry."
"I see," smiled Max. "Well, I hope he will enjoy the second prize."
Alyndra returned Max's smile and stared back into her desk screen letting Max know that the conversation was over. Max Brooks turned around and walked back towards the door the led to the school hallway. He went out of the school building, turned around the corner and walked home through the park. The classes were over, and he planned to go back to reading his Father's books.
He found them fascinating and educational. They would help him a lot to get ready for the competition and gain knowledge about cooking. Although, Max found books too old-fashioned. After reading them all, he was going to modernize the most necessary content uploading it into his Father's pocket chef assistant he had found in the attic.
"Max!" his thoughts were interrupted by someone who called him over.
Max looked to the right and saw Albert - a guy from his school and at the same time errand-boy of Alex Bastian.
"What is it, Albert?" Max stopped and sight out.
"Alex wants to speak to you," smiled Albert spitefully.
"Tell him to get in touch with my lawyers," parried Max and walked away.
But he did not manage to make a few steps when unexpectedly someone pushed him on his back. Max fell face down on the ground. He tried to jump quickly to his feet, but the unknown attacker kicked Max in his stomach making him fall back. Max rolled over on the grass to protect himself from another hit and to see his offender. But when he appeared on his back he saw no one - just the sun, the sky and the tops of the trees.
However, he immediately received another painful kick to his ribs. Max felt it hard to breathe. Moreover, he felt a heavy load on his chest as if someone massive sat on top of him. And that feeling was not the effect of the painful kicks, Max assumed because someone actually grabbed his throat with both hands. Someone Max could not see.
He stretched his hands towards his throat and felt the attackers hands. He tried to pull them off but his opponent was strong and grabbed Max's throat firmly. Suddenly, Max felt the load on his chest become lighter as the one who sat on him bent forward towards Max's ear.
"Forget the competition," he whispered radiating warm breath.
And immediately, he released Max and vanished. Max rolled over to his stomach to see only the grass move under the invisible man's steps as he was running away. He took a couple of deep breaths and climbed up to his feet. His clothes were covered with dust and dirt, and his eyebrow was bleeding.
Probably, he had hit it with a stone or ground when he had been pushed. But Max did not pay attention to his appearance as he was very much confused. Indeed, this Alex guy would do anything to win this competition, thought Max. He was confident that he was attacked by Alex Bastian.
Although, it was hard to say by his whisper as Alex barely identified the voice. But who else had the motive to attack him to keep away from participating in the School League? This was serious, and Max had to think over the situation because it could happen again as Max had no intention to give up on the tournament.
***
Max Brooks returned home in low spirit and thoughtful. Fortunately, Alice was still at work in the Skin Studio. Otherwise, Max would have been buried under the pile of questions and teachings by his Mother. Naturally, she would have asked about what had happened, and then after she washed him and handled his injury. She would have started the conversation about how unnecessary and dangerous were his undertakings, that was why she did not want Max to become a chef and eventually she would have forbidden him to take part in that School League.
But Max would have, naturally, disobeyed his Mother, which would have caused a lot of other troubles. Fortunately, Alice was not home.
Max went to the bathroom, freshened up, changed his clothes and applied a healing stone to his eyebrow. The cutting started to constrict until it finally disappeared leaving a little scar as a reminder of its existence. Now, Max's appearance was typical as he wore fresh clothes, but his thought was tense and uneasy. He came across a puzzle which he needed to solve to overcome the obstacle in Alex Bastian's face.
This morning, he had been thinking of this boy as another upstart with unrealized dreams of becoming a chef who was jealous of Max because Max was the son of Jeremy Brooks. But Max underestimated Alex, who had proved that he was not as simple as Max thought. If he made himself invisible somehow then he could have other tricks in his pocket that he might use against Max. And some of them could be more harmful to his health than an invisible man's attack. Maybe, if Max could understand how Alex gained his invisibility, he could foresee the threat coming out of that boy.
Max went to the library and stretched to the highest shelf. He took the red wooden box he had found in the attic and put it on the table. Max pushed the secret button, and the cover slid open exposing his Father's knife and the pocket chef assistant. Max picked up the round device and looked at its screen. It turned on.
"Show me the messages," ordered Max.
The screen blinked, and Max read "No New Messages Received." He was sincerely hoping to receive more messages signed by J. B. He hoped his father would give him a hint where to find him or where to start from. But yet he had no luck in that. Instead of waiting, he decided to examine the content of the chef assistant to find a clue.
"Show me the notes," commanded Max to the gadget.
The screen blinked again with a message notifying that there were no notes.
"Show me the deleted files," said Max again.
But there were none either. It seemed like the assistant was emptied before being put in that box under the knife. Max tried the last option.
"Show me the contacts."
The screen blinked. And as if a magic trick, Max saw one single entry on the contacts page. It was not even a name, but a nickname, probably, or profession. Anyway, the entry contained an ID of the owner's chef assistant which meant that Max could get in touch with whoever was saved under the name "Blacksmith."
He impatiently pushed the call button to reach the person, to ask him about his Father, to get any answers about his possible location. But at the same moment, he disconnected the call. Max was not sure if it was a right move to call the unknown person from his Father's old assistance. He did not know who that Blacksmith was and how he was connected with Jeremy. Max needed to be careful with that man.
"A message to Blacksmith," said Max to the assistant. "Hello?"
The pocket chef assistant immediately processed the command and gave out a notification "Message sent to Blacksmith." Max held the assistant for a minute or more in his hand expecting any kind of feedback for his message but the device was silent. Max put the assistant on the table and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat.
At the moment he step
ped out of the library, he heard the familiar vibration of the assistant. Max ran back to the library as quickly as possible and stared at the device. The screen said Blacksmith was calling. Max got stunned. He did know whether to answer the call or just ignore it. He wasn't expecting the man to call him back. He thought he would send a reply to his message. But obviously, this Blacksmith got interested in the message from Jeremy Brooks' assistant and he was calling back now. And also, Max wanted to know if Blacksmith knew anything about his Father.
Max approached the table, picked up a book he had been reading yesterday, and put in the vibrating chef assistant covering it's screen thus blinding the caller.
"Answer the call," Max commanded.
Immediately, the vibration stopped, and he heard a man's voice.
"Hello?" said the caller, "Who is it?"
Max did not answer. He did not know what to say.
"Jeremy?" asked Blacksmith.
"Who are you?" Max ignored the caller's question asking his own one.
"I am a good friend of the man," spoke the man confidently, "whose chef assistant you are using, young man."
Max expected an answer like this. He allowed a thought the man could be his Father's friend otherwise why would he keep the only contact of his in this empty device. He slowly took the book from the assistant and looked at the screen.
A face of an old man with white hair and white beard was staring back at him. He never thought blacksmiths looked like Santa. But this man's face was very much familiar to Max. He thought he had already seen that white hair and beard.
"Max?" said Blacksmith.
Max jumped back because out of surprise.
"Max Brooks, is that you?" kept asking the old man.
"Who are you?" repeated his question Max but, this time, there were notes of wandering, not demand in it.
"Don't you remember me?" smiled Blacksmith. "Your Father often invited me to dine at your house."
Of course, remembered Max. He saw this white-haired old man years ago around their family table. Max was a child of six or seven, and he did not remember all the details, but he used to love the man's beard as he played with a lot. But Father did not call him Blacksmith for sure. The name surfaced from his memories.
"Klovitz," whispered Max starring at the man.
"Yes," laughed out the old man, "it's me."
This man's smile was so sincere and kind that Max smiled too. Memories from his childhood somehow warmed his chest, and he was starting to feel glad he answered this call.
"You're so big now," kept talking Blacksmith through his white beard, "I barely recognized you. You have your Father's eyes. And where did you get his assistant?"
"I found it in the attic," replied Max, "in a box with a knife."
"A knife?" asked Klovitz. "Does it have a red hilt?"
"Yes," answered Max eagerly.
"I made this knife for him," said Blacksmith. "It's not just a kitchen knife. It has special powers. Max, we need to talk eye to eye."
***
It did not take much time to find the house of Klovitz. He lived in the opposite district of the city, but using the overground water channels Max reached the place he needed in no time.
Klovitz's house differed from all other buildings in the neighborhood as it was the shortest one. He appeared to be a gnome, and gnomes did not like wide rooms or high roofs. So Klovitz chose probably the smallest house in Verdena, thought Max. He knocked on the door and heard hurried footsteps coming towards him. When Klovits opened the door, Max noticed that the white-haired Blacksmith was a little lower than himself. Quite tall for his race, thought Max and smiled.
"Max," smiled Klovitz back, "come in, come in."
He hurried Max in and immediately closed the door behind him.
"There's a lot we have to discuss," spoke Klovitz as he led Max downstairs to the basement.
The gnome's basement appeared to be a well-equipped forge with furnace and anvil and plenty of various tools hanging from the walls, put on the shelves or thrown on tables.
"This is my workplace," said Klovitz inviting Max to have a seat. "As you probably guessed, I'm a blacksmith."
"That's what my Father named you in his assistant," said Max looking around with open mouth.
"Did you bring the knife?" asked the gnome impatiently.
Max opened his bag and pulled out the red wooden box. He placed it on the table and pushed the button. When the top of the box slid open, Klovitz's eyes sparkled.
"This is my first ever enchanted cookware," said Klovitz stretching his hands to the box.
"Enchanted?" asked Max. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, Max," said the gnome holding the knife and staring at him in admiration. "You see, I'm making tools. But for special people, I make special tools."
"Special people?"
"Like your father," the gnome looked at the boy. "Jeremy Brooks was a special man. He could do magic. But he also needed special tools to make his magic stronger and more astonishing."
"You're saying, this knife has powers?"
"It does, Max," said the gnome. "But only in the right hands. I use ancient runes to enchant items I make, and I can get them respond only to people who own them."
"So, only my Father can use this knife?" asked Max.
"Yes," answered Klovitz putting the knife on the anvil. "All by itself, it generates power, but if your father holds the knife in his hands, he could use this power as he wished."
"It generates power," exclaimed Max. "That's why the assistant was charged when I found him!"
"Very possible," smiled the gnome and took a sharp item which looked like a long nail. "If the chef assistant lay close to the knife, it would work forever."
The gnome took a small hammer from the wall, placed the nail on the blade of the knife and started embossing some scribbles and curls on the knife. Max followed the gnomes work with interest and surprise. He had no idea what Klovitz was doing but he trusted him somehow. When the gnome finished hitting his hammer to the nail, he put the tools aside and picked up the knife whit a tool reminding pincers. Klovitz aimed the pincers to the burning furnace dipping the knife into the fire. Max suddenly saw that the engraved curls glistened from inside brighter than the fire of the furnace. When that happened, Klovitz pulled the pincers out and pointed the knife at Max. The runes were still sparkling when the knife appeared in front of Max's face.
"Touch it," commanded Klovitz.
Max thew a hesitant glance at the gnome.
"Touch it," Klovitz smiled kindly. "Don't be afraid."
Max stretched his hand and slowly approached his finger to touch the blade of his Father's kitchen knife. He touched the bright runes, but they did not burn at all. The blade of the knife was cold as a piece of ice. And as Max touched the runes, their shining immediately disappeared. Max was afraid he broke the magic.
"Now the knife belongs to you," said Klovitz. "You are the Master of its powers."
"What?" asked Max with admiration looking at the knife in his hands. "How do I use it?"
"Well," answered Blacksmith, "that is something you will have to learn yourself when the time comes. And now, tell me how you found this knife."
"I told you I discovered in the attic," answered Max. "I heard the vibration of the assistant when I was having breakfast."
"Why would it vibrate?"