The Chosen 1
Fisk promised himself that he wouldn’t cry. It was getting harder and harder to keep the promise, though. The room around him was large, dark and scary, much different from his room back home. He couldn’t find his parents or his brother or sister. He didn’t even know how far away from home he was anymore.
The boy only remembered the sound of grown up voices from the yard. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his parents and the strangers that came to his house. They didn’t really argue, but there was a sense of unhappiness. When the talk finished, one of the robed men walked into the house and into the room he shared with his brother and sister.
It might have been Fisk’s imagination, but he wanted to remember the sound of his mother crying as the man looked at them. He huddled together with his brother and sister. They were older than him, and told him not to be afraid. They would protect Fisk and not let anything happen to him.
But something happened to him. The man reached out and picked Fisk up by his arm, forcing him to get to his feet. Why the man picked him, the boy didn’t know. He was the youngest and frailest of the children, but they took him instead of his brother and sister.
They couldn’t protect him. His parents couldn’t protect him. No one stopped the men as they pulled Fisk out of the house.
He didn’t cry then. Fisk simply stared back over his shoulder with that internal expression he always had. The expression that always worried his parents. They tried not to let him know that they were worried, but he heard the discussions. They were afraid something was wrong with him, that he wasn’t as smart or de-vell-uped as his brother and sister were when they were his age.
Maybe they sold me because I’m broken.
He heard the men talking on the long trip. They didn’t know that Fisk could hear them. Or maybe they didn’t care. They said the money they paid his father was too much for a dee-feck-tive brat.
Even then, when Fisk heard he was sold, he didn’t cry. Maybe he was nothing but difficult for his family to take care of. They were always poor, struggling to plant and hunt for food. He couldn’t do the same sort of work that his brother and sister could.
Despite this, Fisk tried very hard to be good and quiet and helpful. The best he could do was help his mother with chores, but he knew that chores didn’t feed people.
Maybe there were more people than food.
And so, after the long trip, they came to a big city. It was the biggest place Fisk ever saw. If he wasn’t so afraid and sad, he might have pretended to be on a great adventure. But this wasn’t an adventure. Adventures happened when someone traveled far away from home, and then came back. He didn’t have a home anymore.
Though the men were scary, they weren’t mean to him. They put him in the dark room that had big chairs with soft pillows and gave him food to eat. It was weird food, not the same as the food his mother made. This made him feel all the more sick for home, but he refused to cry. Instead he ate the weird food, trying to pretend it tasted good.
When he finished eating, the door opened again. More men in robes walked inside, talking to each other as if Fisk didn’t exist. They were discussing him. One man with strange eye-lenses and a purplish robe looked at him from time to time. His arm must have been hurt, because it was tied up in a cloth.
Fisk sat very still and very quiet. He didn’t make a peep or move an inch. Not even when the men came to stand very close to him.
The one with the eye lenses leaned down to inspect the boy more closely. His voice seemed pleasant enough, even for a stranger, “Hello. What is your name?”
“Fisk,” the boy said quickly. For some odd reason, he hoped that the stranger liked his name.
The man didn’t say anything else about his name. Instead, he asked another question, “ Do you know where you are right now, Fisk?”
“No, sir,” he shook his head.
“You are in the school of the Manor,” the man told him. “I am Master Zemus.”
Fisk wasn’t sure what a Master or Zemus was, but it sounded important. Some of the other men had made weird head motions when this man entered the room. So, Fisk decided he should try to imitate it, half ducking his head.
“You have some manners, Fisk,” the man smiled. For some reason, his bared teeth didn’t seem as friendly as they should. “That’s good.”
Fisk didn’t dare to say anything in response to Master Zemus.
Maybe the man was waiting for him to do something. Maybe cry or be afraid. When the boy remained sitting quietly, he asked another question, “Do you know why you’re here?”
The boy wasn’t sure if he should tell the truth to this strange man. But his mother always taught him that a lie was a bad thing, no matter why you told it.
“Because those men bought me,” Fisk told him as matter-of-factly, indicating the two robed me who stood behind Master Zemus.
The man responded with a surprised expression. Then he looked back over his shoulder at the other men. Master Zemus didn’t seem happy. When he turned back to Fisk, the should-be friendly smile had returned.
“Fisk, do you really believe that?” he asked. “That’s not what happened at all.”
“It’s not?” the boy asked hopefully.
“Noooo,” Master Zemus put a hand on Fisk’s shoulder and gave an encouraging squeeze. “You’re here because this is a really good school. You were picked to come and learn here.”
Something about the way he said it seemed wrong. Like it was a lie. Fisk didn’t know why he thought that. It didn’t make sense that a grown up would lie to him. But it also didn’t make sense that he would be picked to go to a learning school when his brother and sister were much smarter than he was.
Fisk didn’t let his suspicion show. His face just showed the internal expression, instead. “Learn about what?”
“Well, magic, to start with,” Master Zemus answered mysteriously. He seemed to want to move his wrapped up arm to demonstrate, but it was tied close to his chest in a cloth that hung from behind his neck.
“Magic?” the boy echoed, surprised. Learning about magic sounded very exciting. But if he couldn’t do anything more than chores at home, how could he be good enough to learn something difficult like magic? “I don’t have magic, sir.”
“We all have magic inside of us, Fisk,” the man reassured him. “And we can teach you. You’re not expected to already know how to use it.”
Fisk still wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t smart or clever. Magic would probably be too hard for him.
“Why don’t you let me show you?” Master Zemus encouraged.
It sounded so important to him, that Fisk couldn’t say no. The boy just nodded.
“Very good,” that smile returned. It was hard to tell if it was genuine or not, but it seemed more and more real as time went on.
The other two men brought a small black box forward, opening the lid in front of Master Zemus. The man reached inside and brought out a long, slender crystal stone. It was almost clear and rather dull colored. Fisk couldn’t see anything special about it, but the man handled it carefully.
Master Zemus then slowly gave the crystal stone to Fisk.
The boy blinked in surprise, then reached out with both hands to accept it. At first, nothing happened. The crystal stone sat quiet and dull in his palms. When Fisk focused away from the stone, to look questioningly at the other men, something began to happen.
The crystal started to shake in his palm, almost buzzing like one of the big field flies he caught once. It was a funny feeling that drew Fisk’s attention back to his hands. A light swirled in the center of the crystal. It changed from red to orange to bright yellow, drawing patterns across the faucets of the stone. Then suddenly, the whole thing burst into flame.
Surprised, Fisk almost dropped the crystal. Lucky for him, he didn’t. The men would probably be angry if he broke the stone. Then, he realized the flame was magical, and didn’t burn. Instead, it traced around his hands, not hot at all.
“Very curious,” Master Zemus muttered under his breath.
“This is an undocumented response,” one of the other men said.
“I know.”
“It’s not a crystal master reaction,” the other man said.
“I know,” Master Zemus said again, peering over the top of his eye lenses with a grim expression.
Fisk looked back at the men. Whatever test this was, he failed it. What they were looking for, they didn’t find in him.
I knew this would happen. I tried to tell them.
“What do you want us to do with him?”
Master Zemus didn’t respond. For a long time, he remained silent, watching the flames dance around the crystal in Fisk’s hands. The boy was afraid. If the men didn’t want him anymore, what would happen to him?
“This requires further investigation,” the man finally spoke, pushing his eye lenses up his nose. He reached out for Fisk, and the boy realized he wanted the crystal back.
Fisk carefully handed it back to Master Zemus. The moment his fingers stopped touching it, the fire went out. The other men put it back in the black box and closed the lid.
“Seeing my current condition,” the man indicated his wrapped arm, “I could use some assistance in my office.”
“You mean like doing chores, sir?” Fisk offered. That was something he was certain he could do well.
“Something like that,” Master Zemus nodded slowly. Then he added, “You display a very unique type of power, Fisk. Perhaps you would like to learn more about it. I know that I would like to.”
The boy didn’t know what to say. No one had ever called him something like you-neek. No one had ever told him that he had magic, either.
I saw the crystal. That must be true.
Fisk swallowed, looking at the reflection of his face in the man’s eye lenses. Did he really have a choice? He didn’t have a home anymore. And it might actually be interesting…
The boy nodded.
Master Zemus’ bared-teeth smile returned, pleasure in his voice, “Very good. Come with me, Fisk. I will personally find a place for you.”
The two robed men bowed on either side as he walked between them, through the door. He didn’t turn around to see if Fisk was following. The boy scrambled to his feet, darting behind him into the big, strange Manor building.