Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  Daedalus spoke, "Stay hidden. Send your brother out for supplies. Maybe food to last you long enough. If you wait for some time, there's a good chance the Ravens will think you fled the city. Keep the egg hidden. And put on a disguise if you can while moving outside."

  "You have anything that can help me?" asked Toskk.

  Daedalus nodded.

  "You would still have to stay indoors, though. It might fool most of the Ravens, but not a Summoner. And certainly not a dragon."

  It was settled then. He hoped things would turn out the way he expected. That Daedalus would find a buyer quick enough.

  Chapter 16

  Azrael was nearly tipsy from the wine as he walked away from the rooftop courtyard where the feast in the honor of the Eoran emissaries was underway. A magnificent courtyard, Azrael had noted while he was still within his senses. For now, he wanted to be as far away from the feast as possible. He didn't know if it was the insincerity of Rennar's toast to the emissaries or if it was the blasted Zalearr who kept staring incessantly at him. Whatever the reason, he needed a walk to clear his head.

  Or rather that's what he thought he was doing when he noticed that he had a large goblet filled to the brim with some very potent wine. He wouldn't have brought it along with him if his goal was to clear his head. What the hell, he thought as he took a large swig from it.

  He walked towards the edge and leaned on the wall looking out at the vast open wasteland of Ryga. He turned his head to the right and saw the mage tower. Jutting high into the sky looking very alien and out of place when compared to the rest of the castle. Like some god had struck a lance into the castle and the mountain underneath it. He lifted his glass towards the tower tipping his head.

  To the mad apprentice, he thought, tipping his head in respect. Not that Azrael thought the apprentice was mad. Probably just reckless. Whatever he was, Azrael was glad for the opportunity to see Rennar so helpless. Once again, he remembered his brother's words to him. Maybe there was some truth in them.

  "A toast to the mage tower, Overseer?" came a voice from behind him. An old, thin and wiry man had come to join him by the wall From his clothes he looked to be one of the old nobles of Bren. Azrael had met some of them when the feast began, but not this one.

  "Have you been inside before?" asked Azrael. "You know. Before we took over this place. Back when your king...Kesseleth? Was that his name?"

  "Yes, King Kesseleth the fourth. And no. The mage tower had closed its doors to Norvind and the rest of Bren hundreds of years ago. When the throne room had sealed itself. The mages of Norvind serve only the man who sits the throne of Norvind."

  Azrael raised an eyebrow.

  "I know this might sound obvious but didn't he try and break it open? Your king?"

  "Oh, he didn't bother too much about it. He was too preoccupied with Naxannor's advancing army by the time he came of age. And after that he had to stand against the Aegean army. His father, though. Yes. Several kings have tried breaking the door open, each thinking he was worthier than the one before. Sadly, it remains closed. Maybe you should have a look at it once. You need only touch the stone door to know that all the siege weapons you could muster would not be able to break the door open."

  "It sealed itself of its own accord?"

  "Yes. You're a newcomer to Norvind. It will take some time, but you too will feel the life within the walls of this castle."

  Azrael laughed.

  "Ghost stories? Is this something you make up to scare Aegeans?"

  The stranger smiled.

  "No. No ghosts."

  "So you heard of the event at the marketplace yesterday evening?" asked Azrael changing the topic.

  "Ah. The mad apprentice. Yes, of course. Every tavern from Bren to the outlying towns is talking about him. How he massacred thirty slavers..."

  "There were six men. And only four of those died. None of them were nomads. Just guards."

  "I know. But tales grow in the telling as they say."

  "Has such a thing ever happened before?" asked Azrael.

  "No," replied the stranger. "Slaves sometimes lash out at their masters. There have been a few deaths, but none because of the mages of Norvind. Until now. But I don't think it will ever happen again."

  "You have reason to believe that?"

  "This was purely an accident. Master Gawain will not let it happen again."

  "Is there a reason why the mages don't interfere?" asked Azrael. "If the stories are to be believed, they're quite formidable."

  "Maybe you should ask them," said the stranger with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

  "Thirty years ago, when Naxannor was ravaging the south, our young King Kesseleth stood at the door to the mage tower for two whole days banging on it and pleading for them to come out and help us. They never answered. Naxannor never attacked Norvind but his hordes destroyed many of the outlying towns. When the hordes attacked the kingdom of Sulna, our loyal ally in those times, we had to answer their call for help. Countless lives were lost in that forsaken war. I doubt the mages even knew let alone cared what was happening outside their blasted tower. And when the Aegean army attacked, they did nothing again. Any reason why they would suddenly have a change of heart now?"

  Azrael looked down avoiding the eyes of the stranger. When he looked up, he saw the stranger smiling.

  "Am I given to understand that you too are against slavery?"

  "Before you speak, you should know I am not a traitor," began Azrael.

  "I never implied that you were. They are two very different things. Slavery is outlawed in many of the other Aegean colonies as well. Surely it isn't Aegean law that allows such rampant abuse of power here in Bren. Even the neighboring kingdoms under other governors are better off," he said.

  "They do allow slavery," observed Azrael. "I might be against it in principle, but I'm not an idealist. I've seen too much to know that it can't be abolished. At least not by men like you and me," he said, tipping his goblet towards the stranger.

  "But you do agree there's room for improvement, yes?" asked the stranger.

  "Always," said Azrael, finishing his wine.

  "I am known as Lord Doyen. I head the council of the old nobles. I am pleased to know that our new overseer is an honorable man. Your predecessor was a much...less agreeable man."

  "Azrael Llothran," replied Azrael. Formality decreed that he recite a few of his ancestors' names, at least his father's, but he really wasn't in the mood. It was taken very seriously for the elder sons, but the younger ones were never held strictly to the custom.

  "What exactly do the old nobles do?" asked Azrael.

  "Another time, perhaps," said Lord Doyen. Dropping his voice to a whisper he continued, "And more importantly another place. The walls here have ears. And I'm not referring to the 'life' that I was talking about earlier. Ones much more...human. And those that lead to Rennar."

  Azrael nodded wondering what it meant.

  "I shall be seeing you again, Overseer," said Doyen, departing.

  Azrael was left alone at the edge of wall. He saw that the rest of the feast was still well underway and the noise had grown louder. No doubt fueled by the rich wine. Say what you want about Rennar, thought Azrael, but he knew good wine.

  "To you, my dear mad friend," said Azrael lifting his glass up to the mage tower, "for a most amusing day."

  Chapter 17

  Lorian was resting his head against the window. He let his hands fall limp to the side. He was tired from mopping up two floors. He started early in morning. He was halfway through the third floor now. He had another floor and a half to finish. Damn that woman, thought Lorian. He knew Gawain absolutely doted on him. It was surely the woman's idea to make him do all this.

  He could see bright lights through the window. There appeared to be some feast going on at the rooftop courtyard. Although he couldn't make out any actual faces. Bunch of dirty slavers, all of them, thought Lorian cursing.

  "Are we done yet?"

&n
bsp; Rhaen was standing in the corridor. At least two witty remarks popped up into his head, but Lorian decided not to anger her any more. He was supposed to clean only two floors to begin with, but his attitude towards the task and some cutting remarks he had thrown at Rhaen had doubled his work. He had no desire to do any more meaningless chores.

  "Just catching my breath. I'm not used to such heavy physical work," he said lying. His arms were killing him, but he could definitely handle more of a load than this. He lifted the mop and made to continue his work.

  "Your body says you aren't tired," said Rhaen. "I know the signs of weariness. Living in Bren, you get used to seeing tired people—"

  "Tired slaves you mean," replied Lorian, tightening his grip on the mop.

  "Yes. Quite a few of them are slaves. I trust Master Gawain had a chat with you about that?"

  Lorian nodded. At first he had been furious with Gawain for stopping him. The essence of the 'chat' was that Gawain told him to concentrate on his studies for now. And that the time to strike wasn't now. His own arguments had been refuted by Gawain telling him to merely trust his wisdom. Lorian didn't understand the reason, but he was willing to listen to Gawain...for now.

  "Have you learned your lesson well, then?" asked Rhaen.

  "Is this supposed to teach me something? Mopping up floors? I believe what I did was right. I can't change what I did, and I won't do it again, but I wasn't wrong."

  Rhaen nodded.

  "And the only reason I won't be doing it again is because Master Gawain asked me not to. Not because I'm scared of you punishing me."

  "That's good enough for me. But you still have a whole floor and a half remaining."

  Lorian had been willing to let it go with Master Gawain because he guessed that the nine-hundred-year-old mage, in all his wisdom, knew something that he didn't. But right now, with this woman…

  "I still don't understand how you can just sit by idly while the Aegeans bleed this city."

  "All right then," said Rhaen, folding her hands with an amused expression on her face. "What do you propose?"

  "Kick out the Aegeans," answered Lorian without any hesitation. "Why do the mages of Norvind even tolerate the Aegeans here?"

  "What do you suppose the Council of Three would do if you went ahead and did that?"

  "Norvind has the Lumen. I don't see why we should fear the council or Emperor Thyurin."

  "Then you're a fool."

  Lorian bristled at the insult and was about to respond before Rhaen continued speaking.

  "The Lumen is powerful. Perhaps far more than several conventional schools of magic, but it would be very unwise to think that it is all powerful."

  There was some truth in that, thought Lorian.

  "Furthermore," continued Rhaen, "the mages of Norvind are scholars. Not administrators. Even if we were to drive out the Aegeans, and defeat the Council of Three, we would only leave the shadow of a broken city in the wake of the battle. One that we would have expend much effort in rebuilding. Effort that could better be directed to the advancement of magic and knowledge."

  "So your solution is to just to ignore everything around you and lock yourself inside?"

  "Did I say that?" asked Rhaen. "The mages of Norvind will lend their power to the rightful King of Norvind. When the time comes."

  "And what of the atrocities that the Aegeans commit here in the mean time?"

  "You're still far too young. You have no idea how things were in Bren before the demon war. The previous kings of Norvind didn't treat the people any better, which is why Amara, the third keeper, closed our doors to them during her time. Besides, you speak of atrocities. Have you ever been in a real war?"

  Lorian shook his head.

  "As I said before, your heart is in the right place, but you're a little too naïve if you think the people of Bren would be better off during a time of war. When you read of a war in most books, you only see deeds of glory, heroic acts, who fought against whom. What you don't see if the toll that it takes on the commoners. Trust me when I say that the kingdom would suffer far more if the mages of Norvind were to face off against the Aegean army and the Council of Three."

  She had a point. Lorian was willing to concede that she had reasonable arguments against taking direct action against the Aegeans, but…

  "It doesn't feel right doing nothing…"

  "That's exactly why it's not an easy decision. And also why you should leave it to someone who truly understands the consequences of those decisions."

  Lorian stared at the floor deep in thought before he heard Rhaen's voice again.

  "Enough talk. You have another floor left."

  Lorian gave her a sarcastic smile and continued his work.

  "When can I start my lessons?" asked Lorian.

  "Eager to get to know the Lumen, are we?"

  "Yes," said Lorian. There was no point hiding it.

  "You'll have to study a lot more before you can even begin working on the Lumen. Take a night's rest and we'll begin early tomorrow."

  "We? You and me?" asked Lorian, genuinely surprised.

  "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

  "I came here to study with Master Gawain! Not his apprentice. And I thought Master Gawain didn't believe in letting apprentices teach other apprentices."

  "First of all, I am a full mage of Norvind, not an apprentice. Secondly, these are only the basics that I would be teaching you. Once I am convinced you have learnt them, Master Gawain will take over your training. Thirdly, this is not open for debate. I have already discussed it with Master Gawain, and he agrees with me."

  "No he doesn't," said Lorian spitefully. "You just want to see for yourself if I am everything that Master Gawain believes I am. You think he's wrong."

  "And what exactly do you think Master Gawain believes you to be?"

  Lorian did not reply.

  "Quite confident, aren't you? Ambition is good—even healthy. Arrogance, on the other hand...serves no purpose at all."

  "It might serve no practical purpose, but some people can afford to be arrogant...if they're good."

  "And you think you are?"

  Lorian nodded. Rhaen bent her head, smiling.

  "Very well. If you are as good as you think you are, you shall have no problem learning everything I have to teach you. And as soon as you do that, you can be free from me and move on to study with Master Gawain."

  Lorian's only response was to continue mopping. Before Rhaen turned to leave, he spoke.

  "I've learnt my lesson. Can I put down this mop now?"

  "No. You still have another floor."

  Stupid woman, he thought. When she started to walk away, Lorian spoke again.

  "Is there a feast going on down there?" he said, pointing to the window.

  Rhaen turned back to face him.

  "Yes. The governor is entertaining some guests. Why do you ask? You plan on going to the feast?" she asked.

  "Can I?" asked Lorian.

  "I don't think the governor would be too happy seeing you again so soon," Rhaen replied, laughing. "Finish up quickly and get some sleep. You'll need all your energy for tomorrow," she said, leaving the floor.

  Lorian turned to the window again and looked outside. The small lights of the torches were dancing far away below him. A couple of people had even moved to the edge of the terrace. Sighing, he moved away from the window and continued his work.

  Chapter 18

  "Greetings, Azrael," said a voice from behind him.

  A familiar voice at that. He had been alone for nearly an hour. The wine long gone, he was staring at the wasteland beyond the city and castle walls.

  It was a desert but it was still beautiful. He never had a view like this the last time he was in Ryga. The noise in the background had faded, indicating the feast was almost done. A lot of the guests had left. There were just a few stragglers finishing up the drinks.

  Azrael turned to see Astorr standing behind him. The Zalearr had been staring at him
all the while at the table. And here he was now, standing in front of him.

  "You did not enjoy the feast?" the Zalearr asked.

  "I enjoyed the drink," he said, showing Astorr the empty goblet. "Listen," he continued. "I need to know something. Why do you keep staring at me?"

  "Because you are the oddest sight that I have seen since leaving the tundra."

  Well, that certainly clears it up, thought Azrael. When Astorr didn't offer more explanation, Azrael asked.

  "In what way am I odd?"

  "What do you know of my people?" asked Astorr. Azrael didn't know what to say. He didn't want to offend the creature in front of him by not knowing anything. Yet he did not want to feign knowledge he did not have. He decided to be honest.

  "Very little. I just know of your skills in combat, that there are very few of you. And that you're fighting together with the Army of Light."

  Astorr nodded.

  "Yes. Combat is a way of life for us. Those are all true. But a lesser-known fact about us is that we can see and feel the essences of humans."

  "How can you feel my essence? You're saying you can see it? The extent of it?" asked Azrael, growing a little confused. Azrael studied a bit about essences during his time at the academy. All the students there were taught the rudimentary basics of magic. Commoners called it a soul, but 'essence' was a more fitting term. Apparently, essences grew with a creature's experiences and abilities. And essences also varied in size. Beings like gods had essences that dwarfed that of entire worlds, while mortals such as humans had much lesser insignificant essences.

  "Yes. I cannot explain how. I cannot put it into words. That is the way the Zalearr are. It calls to us..."

  "And what do you feel when you see me?"

  "A wasted life," said Astorr. "Join us in the tundra. We could use more men like you."

  "What exactly do you know of me?" asked Azrael taken aback. The tundra? It would take more than some compliments to lure him to that godforsaken place.

  "I can tell more about you by looking at you than you yourself can. The minute changes a body goes through when you train yourself for combat, they might be invisible to you, but the Zalearr can see it."