Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "Wouldn't the paladins know where to find him?"

  "He isn't part of the order anymore. There were rumors that he had renounced his faith and disappeared. The temple however has neither confirmed nor denied this"

  "Why would he renounce his faith?" asked Lorian confused.

  "Again, that's something only the man himself can answer. The point I was getting at, however, is that to kill an arch-demon and to defeat it are two very different things. Death is not the same thing to demons as it is to mortals. Less so for arch-demons."

  "Naxannor is still alive?" asked Lorian. His face registered shock.

  "No, child. Do not be alarmed. It is harder to explain, but Naxannor set events in motion that continue to affect us even after he has departed this plane. Namoth is but the least of them. The history of the known lands dates back to nearly five thousand years. Since then, only in the last thirty years, we've had two demons awaken. How do you think this came to be?"

  "The Summoners. It has to be."

  "Far from the truth. In all my life, I have known but a few Summoners who were powerful enough to present a threat to the known lands. Yet even they were a long way from being able to summon an arch-demon. No. These creatures were already in our plane. They just started waking up. The Summoners, however, did play a hand in their awakening."

  "Why? If the demons were indeed present on the mortal plane from the beginning, why have they only started waking up now?"

  "A very important question. And one the answer to which I feel is more important than simply killing them. They seek something."

  "Do you know what it is? I mean, you must have some idea."

  "I have my theories. And there are many others who have put forth texts and prophecies concerning this matter. I am sure you must have heard some of them."

  "I know the Prophecy of Anar."

  "Ah yes. The very words upon which the Eoran emperor has founded his Army of Light. Do you know its words?"

  "Not the exact words. It's pretty long. And there are several versions with different wording."

  "The summary, then..."

  "Well... The version I read speaks of a demon from the abyss and the king of men who wields a holy blade- a blade imbued with the blood of a god and the king is all that stands between the end of mortals and the reign of demons. Or something like that."

  Gawain laughed.

  "And our Eoran emperor considers himself to be the king of men. And Namoth the abyssal demon."

  "I've heard of the emperor's blade."

  "Ah yes. Radiance it is called. A mighty weapon indeed. Forged from the magical steel of Bren. Consecrated by eight hundred priests of Myria. They prayed over it every day taking turns a hundred at a time. Never was it out of the glow of Myria even for a moment for eleven years until the emperor came of age."

  "But Master, you don't believe the prophecy to be true?"

  "I have lived long enough to know that there are some that can see the future. But they can only see fragments of it. These prophecies are not meant to be taken too literally."

  "The prophecy goes into great detail about the battle that takes place," continued Lorian, trying to recollect it as much as he could. "It even says that the abyssal demon would fall to its death on an icy floor and be consumed by it."

  "The tundra where the Army of Light makes its offensive. All of it fits in very nicely, don't you think?"

  "I don't understand."

  "Humor me for a moment. Scores of soldiers fall every day in the tundra. And each day, the Eoran Empire conscripts more into the army—some of them are still not of age. Fledgling paladins and novice acolytes are carted off to the offensive in the tundra. Why do you think this is?"

  "Because the army is so close to killing Namoth."

  "As they have been for the last ten years. What do you think will happen if they are unable to kill Namoth?"

  Lorian had to think for a moment. He seemed to have a vague idea of where Gawain was going with this.

  "They will keep losing more men..."

  Gawain nodded.

  "Prophecies can be dangerous things. Especially when misinterpreted. Demons are known to be manipulative, and capable of executing long-term plans—long even for an immortal. I would not put it beyond Namoth to use Anar's prophecy to decimate Eora. Playing into this prophecy, the Eoran emperor believes himself destined to slay Namoth and drains Eora's resources."

  "So Namoth is playing the Army of Light into a trap?"

  "That is one possibility. I could be wrong, and they could indeed be close to killing Namoth. But the signs. There are way too many and far too literal. As you have said, Anar speaks in detail about some of the battles. And these battles have taken place exactly as he has predicted. His descriptions of Namoth's lieutenants. All of them follow the prophecy. Namoth slowly chips away at the Army of Light while lulling them into a false sense of victory."

  "How can Namoth be defeated, then?"

  "Not like this. Defeating an arch-demon requires a much larger effort than the Army of Light. The world is splintered now. Eora, Ryga, Aegis. Hundreds of independent kingdoms. A force so divided would only be easier to defeat. To get back to your original question, the mages of Norvind are not sitting by idly while another arch-demon is loose. There are many ways to fight a battle. The Army of Light fights to kill Namoth. We fight to ensure that what happened at Azanar never happens again. Not by the hands of Namoth nor any other demon."

  Lorian nodded. He was glad to know that the mages were not sitting by and letting creatures from another plane wreak havoc.

  "You mentioned that you had your own theories as well?" asked Lorian.

  Gawain looked thoughtful for a few seconds before speaking.

  "We know of only two demons that have been awakened until now. Namoth and Naxannor. Despite the differences in their methods of waging war, the focal point of both their efforts was to reach something. Naxannor's goal had been Azanar."

  "Goal? Wasn't he cornered there? Driven by the paladins?"

  "The tale would have us believe so, but I have heard the accounts of men who were actually present in the battle. Of all the kingdoms in the north, Azanar was the most heavily fortified. The free cities of the north were much weaker and divided. You know how arch-demons gain strength don't you?"

  "I believe so. I've read only a little about them. And heard the stories. They become stronger consuming mortal essences. They then use the essence to summon lesser demons bound to them."

  "Yes. Lesser demons and sometimes even demon lords. Besides using it to summon their thralls, they also need it for another reason."

  Lorian answered his master, "To survive. Because the mortal plane and the higher planes sap their strength as time passes."

  "I see you know the basics. Very good," said Gawain, smiling. "Well, if Naxannor would have attacked the free cities before heading for Azanar, he would have been able to conquer them with ease, gaining a significantly larger amount of essence, strengthening both himself and his army. Yet, contrary to reason, he attacked Azanar first. Naxannor's horde took the city kingdom, but at great cost to their own forces. Now, why would Naxannor do that?"

  Lorian had grown up around Azanar, but this was new information to him.

  "Perhaps he misjudged Azanar's defenses?"

  "Do you really think so? If anything, arch-demons are among the most cunning creatures in all the planes. Is it more plausible then, that Naxannor misjudged the armies of Azanar, than it is that Naxannor's goal was the fall of Azanar in the first place?"

  "No," said Lorian, thinking. It sounded a little far-fetched to him.

  "But what did Naxannor gain in Azanar?" Lorian asked, thinking aloud.

  "I know not yet," said Gawain, shaking his head. "I have spoken to several of the survivors. At least the ones that didn't have their minds completely destroyed that fateful night. None of them knew if Naxannor was seeking something. The only ones who would know for sure are the Red Paladin, who has since disappeared
, and the dragons, who have retreated to the Wyrm's Breath Mountains."

  The dragons. Lorian had heard several tales of the heroics at Azanar. A lot of them of course were embellished. He had come to believe that the presence of dragons during the battle was also one such embellishment. The walls and towers of the now deserted city were charred black, but the consensus in his village had been that it was demonic magic that had burned them black. Another rumor said it was dragon fire.

  "You can look at the map," continued Gawain. "The trail of destruction starts where Naxannor was revived at the southernmost tip of Ryga, and continues in a path towards Azanar."

  "Is Namoth doing the same thing?"

  "Not towards Azanar, but he seems to be retreating deeper into the tundra. Albeit at a much slower pace. All the while taking a toll on the Army of Light."

  Lorian could only wonder as to what the demons sought. An artifact of great power perhaps? Gawain clapped him on the back, perhaps noticing him looking sullen.

  "I am working with an organization that's tracking the Summoners as well as the demons. A lot of us are. Trust me when I say that the demons will not succeed."

  Lorian smiled acknowledging his master's words with a slight nod of the head.

  "So a Zalearr accompanied them?" asked Gawain, changing the subject.

  "So they say, Master. Some of them seem sure of it. I've heard they have a very distinctive appearance," he replied.

  "You haven't seen one?" asked Gawain.

  Lorian was confused by the question. It wasn't normal to see one.

  "Well, they aren't supposed to come out of the tundra. And there are so few of them..."

  "That's true. A Zalearr would be a rare sight indeed. What else do you know of them?" asked Gawain.

  Lorian tried to recollect his learnings. He had spent very little time on subjects not directly related to magic. Fortunately, the Zalearr were mentioned often enough in his magical texts to pique his curiosity to refer other books. Unfortunately, most if not all the other books dealt with Zalearr culture rather than their magic.

  "Well. It is said they existed many ages ago. More than five thousand years ago. Long before the time of humans. Whatever we know about them, we only know from our interactions with the few that exist today. They're organized into tribes mainly in the tundra and they seek isolation, rarely speaking or trading with outsiders. From the beginning, they shunned the benefits of civilization that the Eorans offered them. They're also masters of combat. There exist few humans who can match even the weakest of the Zalearr in a duel."

  "I see," said Gawain. "Who told you all this?"

  "Master Thaugmir mostly. But I've read Gameil's Life Forms in the Known Lands. There was very little in it about the Zalearr, as I recall."

  "There is a wonderful book about the Zalearr by the historian Thorevaux."

  Lorian laughed scornfully. He had heard of that book before. Many people disregarded it as the work of mad man. It gave a completely different and impossible picture of the Zalearr, painting a very glorious past for them as having built vast empires that stretched across the known lands from the tundra to the south. It even had pictures of what their buildings looked like. It would have been very interesting...if any of it was verifiable in any way.

  "You can't be serious, Master. Thorevaux? He's widely considered a fraud."

  "You don't think what he says is true?"

  "I think it's very unlikely, given that there is almost no proof."

  "Thorevaux spent a lot of time gaining the trust of the Zalearr. He lived with them for more than one hundred and sixty years. More than half his lifetime."

  "Yes. And when he found that the Zalearr did not wish to share any knowledge with him, he concocted his own fantastic version of history. He became senile."

  "You would be surprised as to how much truth there is in the words of that 'fraud' as you call him."

  Lorian was wary. Gawain was no fool. There was something else here.

  "But Master, how can you believe that? How does an empire like that just vanish away?"

  "He provides a plausible explanation for it, does he not?"

  "A cataclysm? A great magical catastrophe that wiped out their entire civilization? It sounds a bit far-fetched to me."

  Gawain nodded.

  Lorian continued, "But several mages made trips to the tundra and other ruins mentioned in the book, to verify Thorevaux's theory. Any cataclysm of that scale, magical or not would leave some traces. And nobody found anything. What's more likely? Thorevaux was a senile man who lied to make something meaningful out of a wasted lifetime? Or that every single mage and historian who examined the ruins is wrong? They can't all not have found anything!"

  "Not all. Some of us have found traces."

  Lorian started thinking. The only reason why Thorevaux's book had been discredited had been because of the numerous mages who stated they found no evidence for the cataclysm. Most magic was elemental in nature and its signature could easily be seen, even by novices. Other forms such as summoning magic were harder to verify, but it could be done. Necromancy and shadow magic as well. Priests could recognize the signatures of their own gods extremely well. If the cataclysm was cause by a god, then the only explanation was that it was a god who wasn't being worshipped. Unlikely. The list dwindled till only one form of magic remained—the Lumen. It was the only form that any other mage except Gawain would not be able to verify.

  "You found traces of the Lumen?" asked Lorian.

  Gawain appeared pleased and smiled. Lorian found himself shivering with excitement. A whole empire destroyed by the Lumen?

  "No other mage can recognize the Lumen?" asked Lorian.

  "Some can, but not traces of it. Especially not those cast five thousand years ago. Those traces are a little more…subtle."

  "But how? Humans didn't exist that long back. And the Zalearr cannot cast or channel magic."

  "They can't cast conventional magic. And that deduction is only based on what we have seen in our lifetime. It is still unknown how or even why, but you can feel the remnants of the Lumen at nearly every location that Thorevaux mentions."

  This certainly did change a significant portion of history.

  "Why would the Zalearr hide this?" asked Lorian.

  "Again, I do not have an answer to that question, child. I have been to tundra a few times to seek out answers. I found that the Zalearr wished to be left alone for most part. Our only major interactions with them have been since the war with Namoth began. Even now, as they fight alongside the Army of Light, share their campfires and break bread with them, they never speak of their past."

  "Do you have a copy of Thorevaux's book, Master?" asked Lorian. He suddenly found himself full of curiosity about the Zalearr.

  "Yes, child. Back at the castle library."

  After hesitating a little, Lorian spoke.

  "You said there were people working against Namoth?"

  Gawain nodded.

  "Would I be able to help?"

  "You can help us most by continuing your education. You have much to learn. You will also learn how best to make use of your power. When the time comes, I am sure you will play a prominent role in the shaping of our history. Come now. We must head to Norvind," said Gawain.

  Chapter 9

  Azrael sat in the corridor of Castle Norvind. He had arrived just a few hours earlier and had been received by the castellan of Norvind—a short, grumpy man who told Azrael bluntly that his belongings would be taken care of and that he was to first go to Governor Rennar's chambers and meet him before anything else. Without even stopping to wet his throat, he came as quickly as he could.

  Only to wait outside in the corridor for over an hour.

  He shot a questioning look at one of the guards standing by the door who shook his head when their eyes met. Rennar was probably busy. Probably. The overseer was equal in rank to the governor. But that was only if you were being overly pedantic with titles. Maybe making him wait here was R
ennar's way of showing Azrael his place in Bren. Azrael was used to such games. The academy and the military were full of them.

  Lord Llothran had held a great feast in honor of Azrael's appointment as overseer. Many illustrious noble families had been invited. Along with Azrael's friends—or rather those that his father deemed his friends—and some high-ranking military officers and his instructors from the academy. Many of them had warned him about Rennar. None more so than his own father. Azrael recollected some of the things said.

  "Rennar's wife is third cousin to the emperor."

  "His brutality is second to none."

  "He will not hesitate to remind you of his rank."

  "Mark my words- stay in his good books."

  "His jurisdiction is only Bren. But his real influence stretches across all the cities of southern Ryga."

  "There are tales of people disappearing in Bren."

  They had almost conditioned a certain fear into Azrael regarding Rennar. But he was determined not to let that unsettle him.

  Azrael had observed much along the way to the castle. The streets were full of guards. Only half of them bore Aegean colors. The rest wore trappings of the desert nomads. Slavers. He saw several mercenaries as well. Most of people in the streets appeared to be slaves. Azrael saw brands on their backs and shoulders that marked them as such. Being the son of a prominent nobleman and trader, the practicality of slavery in the colonies was beaten into him, but needless brutality annoyed him. However, he wasn't stupid enough to openly interfere and make enemies. This was something his father had explicitly warned him against.

  This was his second visit to Ryga. The first time had been under General Albinus as part of the Deckan campaign. It was a most horrible experience. At the academy, he had dreamed of glory, the spoils of war and the favors it brought once you returned. He had seen the Emperor, General Albinus and others return to massive triumphs after the first colonization wars. He had yearned to sit on a horse as part of a triumph, while the crowds chanted his name.