Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King Read online

  Fritz bolted from the cabinet, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he raced down the hallway toward the sound of Franz’s screams. He threw the office door open and Ivanov looked up, frightened by the sudden interruption. Franz lay helpless, his hair caught in Ivanov’s spidery clasp. The young boy’s face was red and his lip bloodied.

  “Fritz, help!” Franz cried.

  Fritz reached for Ivanov but before he could grab hold of the headmaster, another blast of energy shot out from his hands. The force knocked Fritz backward. Ivanov crumpled like a limp rope into a bookshelf and fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

  Fritz’s head felt fuzzy from exhaustion. His knees buckled, but he caught himself on a nearby chair. Franz rushed to his brother’s side.

  “We need to go,” said Fritz as he fell forward, his strength nearly drained. Franz supported him with his shoulder, and they crossed unsteadily toward the back stairs.

  Seconds later, Dolph crashed into the office, splinters embedded in his body. He stumbled over to Ivanov’s desk and pulled out a pistol. Only the wealthiest families had guns and, even though Fritz had never seen one used, he was fully aware of what they did. Dolph aimed it shakily at Fritz and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet struck Fritz in the arm, inches away from Franz’s head. Fritz cried out and fell to the floor. An oozing stain of blood turned his shirt dark red. He struggled to stand. Franz pulled him to his feet, his eyes wide with terror.

  Nurse Galina rushed into the office with Adrian close behind her. “What is going on?” She saw the growing bloodstain on Fritz’s shirt and gasped. “Dolph! What have you done?”

  Dolph ignored her. He pulled back the hammer, raised his pistol, and aimed it at Fritz’s head. Nurse Galina jumped in front of Fritz just as the gun fired a second time. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the room. Nurse Galina spun around, an arc of blood spewing from a gaping wound in her chest. She fell against a table, then toppled to the floor.

  Fritz froze. The world was fading into a hazy gray, and the room began to spin.

  Franz began to scream in short, loud shrieks.

  “Stop screaming!” Dolph shouted. His crazed yellow eyes bulged and flecks of saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth.

  Franz continued to scream.

  Dolph gripped his head with both hands, then stumbled toward the distraught boy. As he advanced, he pulled out his knife.

  Fritz groaned, unable to move in front of his brother.

  Dolph moved closer, but a swirl of black and red smoke blocked his path, causing him to stop and gawk in confusion at the anomaly. The smoke materialized into a cape, and a figure rose up from beneath the mantle, tall and imposing. He had broad shoulders, salt and pepper hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. His face was stern and and his gaze intense.

  He stepped toward Fritz and Franz, unfazed by the large man pointing a knife at his back. He closed the gap between them in a single stride and threw his cape around the two boys.

  The office disappeared in a whirl of black and was instantaneously replaced by a wood-paneled room warmed by a crackling fire. The dingy interior of Ivanov’s office had transformed into a spacious quarter with windows and a large, soft rug.

  Franz stopped screaming, and his eyes glazed over. The copper tinge on his tongue from his bloody wound mingled with the earthy smell of burning wood.

  The mysterious man shoved Franz to the side and tore the tattered pieces of cloth away from Fritz’s arm. “Let’s have a look at that.” He studied the protruding skin.

  Fritz’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 2

  “Fritz, are you awake?”

  Fritz opened his eyes. His brother’s “gentle” nudges felt like a bell clapper on his head. His mouth was dry, and his eyelids blinked slowly open. He squinted at the sunlight streaming through a large window next to his bed. Clocks of various sizes and styles decorated the room, all ticking in perfect synchronicity.

  “Where are we?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He noticed his brother’s new clothes. “Where did you get those?”

  “Boroda gave them to me,” said Franz. “He also gave me this.” He pulled a knife from the sheath on his waistband and grinned. “He’s teaching me how to carve figurines.”

  “Boroda?” Fritz tried to shake the fuzz from his mind.

  “Yes. He owns this house. He’s been taking care of you for the last three days.”

  “Three days?” Fritz started.

  “Yep.” Franz helped Fritz stand up, then ran to the window and pulled both curtains wide open.

  Fritz grimaced at the sudden explosion of light. When his eyes had adjusted, he joined his brother and peered out over a sprawling field covered in snow. A large forest lay beyond the field. Behind the forest, or perhaps in the middle of it (Fritz couldn’t tell), a purple mountain range blended into the brilliant blue sky.

  “Where are we?” Fritz asked.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a bass voice rumbled behind them. Fritz and Franz whirled around.

  Boroda joined them at the window. “Let me check your arm.” He pulled up Fritz’s sleeve. “Healing very nicely. Bullet wounds are tricky to mend. You’ll have a nice scar, but you should be ok.” He pulled the sleeve down, but Fritz immediately pulled it back up and looked at his skin in bewilderment.

  The gaping wound had closed, and a fully formed scar had taken its place.

  “I never heal scars. They’re good reminders of what we should have done differently.” He pulled a pipe from his pocket, walked over to a chair, and sat down. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m confused, sir,” Fritz said, rubbing his hair.

  “As am I.” He studied Fritz carefully and lit his pipe. “At least about a few things, but there’s a little time for that. And please, call me Boroda.”

  Fritz sat on the bed, leaning against one of the posts. “Well, for starters, sir—Boroda—how did we get here? … And where is here?”

  “You are on my estate; where is not important. How you got here is supremely so.” Boroda straightened. “I transported you here by magic.”

  “Magic?” Fritz stared at the man to see if he was joking.

  “Yes.” He swept his hand and a tea cart appeared, full of sandwiches and cakes and a steaming pot of tea. He motioned again, and a chair materialized, catching Fritz in its path as it slid toward the table. Franz, unfazed by the display, darted forward and snatched several cakes, which he shoved into his mouth.

  “Tell me about yourself, Fritz.”

  Fritz shook his head. “Magic, sir?”

  “Yes, magic.” He poured the hot tea into two mugs and added a block of sugar to one. “Who are your parents?” Boroda picked up the teacup with sugar and handed it to Fritz.

  “Uh … I don’t quite know how to answer that,” Fritz said, still processing. “They died when I was young. My brother was just an infant.”

  “How did they die?”

  “In a house fire,” Fritz said. “At least, that’s what Headmaster Ivanov told me.”

  “Did he?” Boroda muttered to himself.

  Fritz shifted in his bed. “Are you a magician?”

  “I am a wizard, as are you.”

  “Me?!” Fritz guffawed. “I think you may have made a mistake. I can’t do magic.”

  Boroda studied Fritz over the rim of his teacup. “I beg to differ.”

  He set the mug on its saucer and crossed a leg. “Tell me what happened the day you were shot. Spare no details.”

  Fritz started at the beginning of the day and ended with the appearance of Boroda. “And then I woke up here, very confused,” he said.

  Franz held two small sandwiches in his hands. His mouth was still full of cake. Boroda looked at the small boy and a slight smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “Franz, would you please give your brother and me a moment to talk?”

  “Can I go skate on the pond?” Franz asked and then turned to Fritz. “Boroda has
real skates that you clip to your shoes! I can skate all the way across without falling down!”

  “Of course.” Boroda moved two fingers with a casual flick. “Your coat and scarf will be on a hook near the back door.”

  Franz snatched two more sandwiches and skipped out of the room.

  Boroda cleared the tea caddy with a wave of his hand. “Every wizard has a moment when their magic manifests, and they cast their first spell,” he began. “We call this the snapping. Most wizards snap as a young child. They usually move a small item like a stick or a cup. An especially powerful wizard may cause a chair to slide across a floor. But because magic requires a lot of energy, a new wizard will experience extreme exhaustion. Some have tried to do too much too soon and died of overexertion. Magic is equal parts skill and restraint.”

  Boroda leaned forward. “You reduced a cupboard to splinters, sent a very large man tumbling down a hallway, and threw another grown man several feet into a bookcase with enough force to knock him unconscious.” Boroda pointed at Fritz’s arm. “All that, combined with the nasty gash on your arm, makes me wonder how you are even still alive.”

  “I don’t know,” Fritz offered apologetically.

  Boroda shook his head. “I don’t expect you to. But still, your ignorance doesn’t change the requirements of magic.” He trailed off, lost in thought, before returning to the conversation at present. “Have you ever been in contact with a magic item before?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” Fritz said.

  “Have you ever worn any jewelry? Rings, pendants?”

  “My parents gave me a charm when I was a boy. It was a small gold piece.”

  “Gold? Are you sure?” Boroda asked.

  Fritz nodded.

  “Then that wouldn’t be it. Gold is not a magic metal. It cannot be enchanted.”

  “That’s the only thing I’ve ever worn.”

  Boroda stood and motioned to a nearby wardrobe. He waved his hand and the doors opened, revealing a solitary outfit hanging on the rack. “Walk with me outside. I need some fresh air.”

  Fritz put on the clothes and followed Boroda down the stairs and out the front door. The fresh snowfall crunched under their feet. They made their way beyond the front lawn to the side garden and walked through a small opening in a stone wall that led them to a wooded path.

  “What do you know of the history of the Five Kingdoms?” Boroda asked.

  “Almost nothing,” said Fritz.

  Boroda walked down the path at a leisurely pace as Fritz kept stride beside him.

  “Many centuries ago, before the Five Kingdoms existed, the world was ruled by hundreds of smaller kingdoms. Some were good and served their people. Most were tyrannical and lusted for more power.

  “These rulers were constantly engaged in war, killing whomever they needed to gain control. Over time, the kingdoms joined together in treaties and began to rise up against each other. These coalitions eventually became the Five Kingdoms: Northern, Southern, Eastern, Western, and Central.

  “It was customary for a ruler to employ a wizard to advise them and help their armies in times of war. The rulers of the Five Kingdoms each retained a powerful wizard for this very reason.

  “After years of mindless bloodshed, the five wizards met together in a secret enclave. There they formed The Order, with the express purpose of ending the wars and promoting peace among the nations. It was successful, and soon the nations engaged in commerce rather than battle.

  “This group of wizards eventually voted in a sixth wizard to lead the group and act as an impartial judge and arbiter for the remaining five. From that moment on, The Order has consisted of six wizards: five to advise the rulers of the Five Kingdoms and one to rule The Order.

  “The Order created six medallions from the rarest, most pure metals known to man. Each one has unparalleled ability to store enchantments and spells. The wizards who wear these medallions have access to unfathomable power.

  “But it wasn’t long before wizards started engaging in their own battles to vie for the vacant positions when wizards in The Order died. Some even murdered sitting members to take their medallion and seat in The Order.

  “In an attempt to discourage this, the head wizard decreed that all sitting wizards must train an apprentice to succeed their master. To ensure that no apprentice would kill their master, apprentices were bound with a powerful spell called a Life Bond. While under its enchantment, no apprentice can harm their master.

  “For centuries, this line of power has remained unbroken from master to apprentice. Each master, save the head of The Order, advises a ruler of one of the Five Kingdoms, and the apprentice trains under that master to take his place when the time comes.”

  Boroda stopped walking and faced Fritz. “I would like you to be my apprentice.”

  Fritz gaped.

  “I will warn you, though: It’s not an easy life. Wizards, like men, are prone to greed, envy, and lust. The main difference is that they have the aid of magic to pursue their desires.

  “For this reason, we must rid ourselves of anything or anyone that can be used as leverage against us. We take on a new name, hide any trace of our true identity, and leave our friends and families behind.”

  Fritz stopped walking. “So, if I were your apprentice, I would have to leave Franz?”

  Boroda didn’t answer. He walked ahead slowly, and Fritz followed. “Do you want to learn how to use your magic?” Boroda asked him.

  “Maybe,” Fritz stammered. “I mean, yes. I don’t know. I’m not even sure what all this is.”

  “But it does interest you?”

  “Of course,” Fritz said.

  “Good,” said Boroda, growing impatient. “Now, will you join me as my apprentice?” He held out his hand, but Fritz ignored it.

  “Join you? As quickly as that?” Fritz winced. “I need some time to think this through.”

  “We don’t have time, Fritz,” Boroda said. “The meeting of The Order is tomorrow night and, for reasons I won’t go into right now, they have given me an ultimatum: I must have an apprentice by then or risk removal. I’m afraid I can’t wait long for your answer.”

  “If it means leaving Franz, then, no. I’m sorry; I can’t do it,” Fritz said, his shoulders drooping.

  Boroda sighed. “Very well. I will take you and Franz back to the orphanage.”

  Fritz’s breath caught in his chest. “We can’t go back there. Dolph will kill me and Ivanov will … please, sir.”

  “You can’t stay here. I’m sorry,” Boroda said without expression.

  “Please, there has to be another option,” Fritz begged, stepping in front of Boroda. “I want to be your apprentice. I want to learn magic. I do, but I can’t do it if my brother isn’t safe.”

  Boroda’s eyes glazed over, making him appear deep in thought. “I may have another option for Franz.”

  After a pause, he said, “I know of a family unable to have children of their own. He is a general in the Central Kingdom who reports directly to the Czar. They are a good family, and I can assure you Franz would be well taken care of.

  “Be my apprentice, and I will see to it that they adopt him, but no one—and I mean NO ONE—can ever know of your relationship to him.”

  “Will I get to see him?” Fritz asked.

  “For this to work, I would have to erase his memory. He won’t remember you or the orphanage.”

  Fritz fidgeted. After a short time, he stopped. “You can promise me he’ll be safe?”

  “I don’t make promises,” Boroda said. “But I believe the family will protect him as their own. They are very wealthy. Franz would want for nothing.”

  Fritz fought back a lump in his throat.

  Boroda spoke in a low voice. “Left untrained, your magic could kill you and those around you, but under my guidance, I will help you develop your power. With your abilities sharpened, you will be able to protect your brother from a thousand men like Ivanov.”

  Fritz met his gaze.
His chest burned with renewed anger at the mention of the headmaster’s name. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your apprentice.”

  Boroda breathed a sigh of relief. “Very good.” He held out his hand, and Fritz shook it.

  “There is much to do,” Boroda said, after pulling his hand back. “I wish I could give you more time, but The Order meets tomorrow.”

  Fritz waited for his first instructions.

  “I will go speak to the General and his wife about Franz.” Boroda set off for the house and Fritz followed. “You will find your brother at the pond, skating. Say your goodbyes.”

  They stopped outside the gate in the stone wall.

  “I will leave you here. The pond is that way, just beyond the garden.” Boroda spun and vanished in a cloud of smoke.

  Fritz stuck his hands in his pockets and walked toward the pond. Franz was skating slowly, wobbling back and forth, arms flapping for balance. He waved when he saw Fritz and nearly toppled on the ice.

  Fritz called him over to the shoreline.

  “Do you want to skate with me?” Franz yelled. “I think there are more skates in the shack.”

  He pointed to a small, wooden structure on the end of a dock close to where Fritz stood.

  “No. Not right now.” Fritz walked across the frozen surface to the shack and waited for Franz to join him.

  “What’s wrong?” Franz asked. “Do we have to go?”

  Fritz held his hand out and helped Franz walk over to a bench. “I have to tell you something. I hope you can understand it, and I hope you won’t be angry.”

  Franz removed his skates slowly.

  “I’ve decided to stay and study with Boroda,” Fritz said.

  “Are you going to study magic?” Franz asked excitedly.

  “Yes. But there’s more. Boroda said there are bad men who will try to stop me by hurting the people I love. So, I need to leave you for a while, somewhere you’ll be safe.”

  “How long?” Franz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Fritz said. “It may be a long time.”

  “Where will you be?”