Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "Enough about nomads and demons. We have the full day ahead of us. Tell me more about yourself. Which of the islands are you from?"

  Chapter 34

  His fingers felt like they were being cracked open.

  Gawain was right. It was an almost alien feeling calling the Lumen outside the simulacrum.

  Lorian now realized that his insistence in not leaving the simulacrum until he could cast an energy lance was stupid. That he could create the lance inside the simulacrum meant nothing outside.

  While the feeling of the essences when he contacted them inside the simulacrum were strong and distinct, outside, he could hardly feel the contact. It was like a shimmering thread of consciousness in his mind. At times he didn't even notice that the essence changed, and when the realization came, it was too late—the essence would already withdraw back into the void.

  Leaving only pain.

  The pain was something Gawain had not mentioned.

  Then again, Gawain had no way of knowing Lorian would keep practicing for three days without a break to even eat. The pain was barely noticeable at first, but after keeping at the same task for so long, he could feel it more distinctly.

  The worst pain was when the essence withdrew. It felt as if it was taking a part of him back to the void, leaving him hollow. First it was his fingers, and now it was his entire hand. As if his bones were being hollowed out from the inside. No amount of rubbing his hand would do any good to stop the pain.

  Steeling himself, he decided he would make one more attempt before taking a break.

  The first phase went well. He felt the flickering thread inside his mind. He began the phrase to get hold of it. It was done within a fraction of a second.

  Now came the harder part. He felt it wriggling inside his mind like a small worm that thrashed with the strength of a large snake. He altered the phrases as he vocalized them and slowly felt his body thrum to the energies of the void. His hand began shimmering.

  In a single moment, the thread was gone. Leaving only pain in its wake. Lorian fell to the ground and hit his hand against the floor to try and stop the pain. It only made it worse. Tears rolled down his face as he grasped his hand, trying to hug it into his body.

  Patience. Gawain had said that he would need to be patient. Yet, the most frustrating part about the Lumen was that it required both time and practice to master. Lorian knew he had an excellent understanding of how it worked, but Gawain insisted it would only come with time.

  And it seemed even the Lumen was rebelling against Lorian's wishes to speed up the process. That was why his hands hurt. Lying on the floor now, he realized that even the other bones in his body were aching.

  It was almost as if the Lumen was trying to break him.

  "Never," he said in a whisper.

  The essences had a life of their own even though they belonged to the dead, which was why controlling them was much harder than controlling elemental magic. Gawain had said that the essences needed to get used to the body over time, and that was what would make it easier. Gawain's reasoning was that Lorian could not force them into his body against their will and still make it work.

  Lorian knew deep inside his heart that Gawain was wrong.

  The power of a god was often available to paladins and priests. But the price of that power was that they had to become complete slaves to the causes of their gods. Paladins were expected to uphold the laws and values of the good. Evil thoughts let alone actions would sever their connection with the goddess Myria, leaving them defenseless.

  Lorian had no problem with being good. His problem was someone telling him to be good.

  The same went for the priests of Myria as well as several other temples that littered the known lands. Each had to service his own god by holding true to the tenets of faith required by that god.

  The worst part was that the priests and paladins never took that power. It was granted by the god in whatever quantity he or she deemed right for the caller. The more righteous paladin would be stronger, but then again the more righteous the man, the stricter his life was controlled by the faith required of him. It was paradoxical in that for great strength, you needed to bow down and become a slave.

  It was strength that they had. Not power. And it was power Lorian sought.

  There were times he considered becoming a priest. Their access to spells was simpler than mages. But he had been disgusted at the thought of bowing down and shaming himself. Even to a god.

  The Lumen made that possible. A dead god required nothing of you. His power was yours for the taking. Whatever little will that these essences had, Lorian would beat them into submission. There had to be some way he could control them. Lorian would not wait a hundred years to control the Lumen like Gawain and the other mages did. He spread his hands trying to relax and see if the pain would leave him.

  No, he thought. This was worse. Walking and moving about would make him feel better.

  Lorian picked himself up and made his way out of the practice chamber he was using. He would need to sleep, but he wished to make a trip to the library first.

  Gawain had said they would discuss the history of the Lumen much later. About how a dead god even had ties to this plane. But Lorian already had a fair idea. He knew a bit about gods. He knew they didn't die the way humans did. They existed and even influenced events after death. The only tie Lorian could imagine was the corpse of the dead god. It was still there, somewhere on this plane. He would need to brush up his knowledge about the vast pantheon of gods.

  He entered the library to see that it was nearly empty. He could see maybe four mages in all. They were all at different places.

  The library itself was magnificent and had three levels, which could all be seen from the doorway he stood at. The opposite wall of the gigantic room had a large window. The roof was dome shaped and Lorian could see the moon through it.

  So it was night already. Lorian had lost complete track of time for the past few days.

  The library was very well categorized as he had learnt on his very first visit to it. The books pertaining to priests or religion would be on the third level. A small section, but it was much more than the library at the Shadow Spire.

  The number of books existing on theology and religion far exceeded those on magic, but every mage library had only the basic books. After glancing through some books, he found the one he wanted and sat down on the ground leaning against the shelf.

  His fingers hurt as he turned the pages. It was an old copy of a book known as A Mage's Guide to the Pantheon.

  Gods existed in the planes directionally above the mortal planes. Lorian figured it would have to be some minor god. No major god could die. And even if he did, there was no way they would be tied to this plane. Besides, the planes that the minor gods existed in were far closer to this plane. Whoever this god was, he had died on the this mortal plane.

  He was still turning the pages when he remembered something else. Gawain's words about Thorevaux. Lorian had been putting it off for some time now. He had meant to get his hands on Thorevaux's book when he had first learnt that the man might not have been a fraud. But the latest revelation he had regarding the Lumen piqued his interest further. He was wondering if there was anything in the book about the gods that the Zalearr worshipped—if any.

  The way Lorian looked at it, it made sense. If there was a cataclysm powerful enough to wipe out the Zalearr, it was sure to have involved their god.

  "Brushing up on your theology, young apprentice?"

  Lorian looked up to see a mage standing in front of him. He had just entered the row of shelves. Lorian tried recollecting his name.

  "Master Geleb. I didn't see you coming."

  "It often happens when you deprive yourself of sleep. I can see from your eyes and the way your hands shake that you haven't slept for at least four days."

  "Three," said Lorian trying to smile. His cheeks hurt as he forced it. Perhaps it was his efforts with the Lumen that made it appear
as if he hadn't slept for much longer.

  Geleb started looking at the shelves and picking out books. Occasionally when he found a book he liked, he would toss it into a bag.

  "The Lumen is best learned at a slow pace. Comfortably."

  Lorian was sick of hearing that. He didn't respond and continued turning the pages of his book. Geleb spoke again.

  "Trying to find out which god it is that you have seen inside the simulacrum?"

  Lorian's heart skipped a beat and he felt his chest pounding. He was thinking of something to say before Geleb spoke.

  "You won't find it in any of those books, Lorian. Every apprentice tries that when he first learns of the Lumen. Master Gawain will tell you the story behind the Lumen when the time comes."

  "I don't see what the big secret is," snapped Lorian. "Master," he added immediately.

  Geleb merely laughed.

  "Do you know the story of arch-mage Cerevax?" asked Geleb.

  "No..."

  "He was the second keeper of Norvind. Master Gawain is the fourth. Valymar and his twelve fools were not the first ones to try and take the Lumen by force. Amadeus, a necromancer of great power had attacked Norvind with his undead hordes while Cerevax was keeper. Eight hundred years ago. Every apprentice at Norvind had been killed that day. Cerevax had lost control of the castle after four days of battle but had escaped with his life. It took Cerevax two years before he came back and wrested control of the castle from Amadeus's hands. And he was every bit as powerful as Master Gawain is today."

  Eight hundred years ago. Eight hundred years…

  "Eight hundred years ago! This was During the days of the Black Legion?" asked Lorian.

  "There is much about the Black legion that isn't common knowledge," said Geleb.

  "Amadeus was working for the Black legion?"

  "The other way around."

  Lorian was confused.

  "The dragon Anacalor, led the Black legion. I know the story of master Gawain defeating it. It was his first major accomplishment. He was only eighty years old then."

  "There are some interesting books in the history section that you won't find anywhere else in the known lands. You should use your time at Norvind to peruse of them as well."

  Lorian made a mental note to find out more about it. Although he didn't get the point of the story right now.

  "What do Amadeus, or the Black legion, have to do with the Lumen?"

  "The Lumen is only three thousand years old," continued Geleb, "Necromancy and elemental magic have been used since men first discovered magic. Even the Lasrim school of summoning is slightly older than the Lumen. It took the void explorers nine hundred years before they could find the Lumen. Oh, and they weren't fools. Many of them had known exactly what to look for. It just took them a long time to find it. And even longer before they could channel its power. And since then, every other school has envied the mages of Norvind their power. They will not stop trying to take the Lumen from us. So, you should excuse Master Gawain if he wishes to see if you are worthy of the Lumen."

  "Are you saying I can't be trusted?" asked Lorian, his face flushing red.

  He'd never considered that. He assumed as soon as he left the Shadow Spire that he would learn everything there was to learn about the Lumen.

  "No. I never said that. If Master Gawain didn't trust you, then you wouldn't be at the castle. He wouldn't have shown you the simulacrum. Rather, you should be flattered. Many of us hadn't even seen the simulacrum for several months after coming to Norvind. Some even for a full year. You've been here a month now?"

  Lorian nodded.

  "Being a mage of Norvind means much more than just calling the Lumen. We have a higher duty. Since the time of keeper Cerevax, we have always served the king sitting the throne of Norvind. We have been a force of righteousness in the lands. We serve much...nobler goals than the other mage schools that simply desire power for its own sake."

  "You're talking as if we're priests. Slaves to some god or the other, just to get some scraps of magic thrown our way," said Lorian.

  "There's a difference between a priest's faith and your own duty, Lorian. A priest's magic will cease to work when his ideals falter. The gods refuse to grant them their powers once that happens. So the priests need not worry about the type of men wishing to join their temples. The Lumen, however, will work regardless of whether your motives are for the good or the bad. The Lumen isn't tied to your morals, which is why Master Gawain needs to be convinced that you are the type of man that he seeks. You might be the right kind of mage he desires for an apprentice. But are you the right kind of man? Only time will tell."

  "Righteous?" asked Lorian, getting a little frustrated. "How can you call yourselves righteous when you sit here and let that madman Rennar do what he's doing outside? Have you even looked out of the castle? The streets of Bren are filled with the screams of slaves."

  "And your answer to that is to slaughter all of them?"

  Lorian had no answer. He sure would like to. But if he did mention it, and Rhaen got wind of it, she would have him mopping floors again. He wasn't sure his body could handle it. Not after the last three days.

  "There are many ways to achieve victory, Lorian. Norvind is a living entity, as you will have noticed. Our strength is increased tenfold when a king sits on Norvind's throne. The pact was made and sealed by Cerevax. His master before him, Iothen, was a ruler, and it didn't turn out well for Ryga. It was precisely why Cerevax altered the structure of Norvind. The mages of Norvind were never meant to rule. Only to counsel the king and help him rule."

  "So where is this king? Men are supposed to keep dying until he comes?"

  "He will come soon. You have my word on that," said Geleb with a smile. He put a few more books into his bag.

  "Where are you taking those books?" asked Lorian. He was tired of listening about the duties of the mages of Norvind.

  "I... will be going on a small trip."

  "Where to?"

  "I'm not supposed to tell you..." said Geleb.

  Lorian clapped the book shut.

  "I don't understand. I'm an apprentice of Norvind, yet nobody here trusts me. I can't get an answer to a simple question without everyone looking at me like I'm some kind of spy. Not from Master Gawain, not from Rhaen, not from anyone..."

  Geleb remained silent for a short while.

  "Simea," he said after a pause.

  "In Northern Ryga?" asked Lorian.

  He knew the city. Fabled Simea. Home of the Rhial Knights.

  "My own village is near the Deckan plains. Just below the northern cities. We used to have the Rhial Knights riding down. They would stop at our village for supplies."

  The Rhial Knights. He was only six or seven back then, but he still vividly remembered them. They often traveled through the village, stopping occasionally to rest.

  Some of them had a made camp outside the village once, and Lorian had gone there to help them pitch their tents. He even helped fetch water from the well to their horses. His reward was that he could eat dinner with them. After he had insisted, they even showed him some of their powers.

  Lorian decided at that time, that he wanted to be a Rhial Knight. He had asked if he could come to Simea to join their order. He offered to squire for them. The knights had laughed, telling him that he could, but only after he was much older. It was shortly after that, that Thaugmir had visited the village and found Lorian.

  He had no regrets about it at all. But the Rhial Knights were spectacular to look at. Swordplay had a kind of finesse and beauty to it that magic could not replicate. And magically enhanced swordplay was even better. Their swords would glow with the power they imbued into them. Even with their heavy armor, they could move with blinding speed and agility. Something suddenly interrupted his train of thought.

  "Master Geleb, what god is held in Simea?" asked Lorian.

  Geleb shifted a little in the place where he stood. Why that question should make him feel uncomfortable Lorian di
d not know.

  "The Rhial Council permits the temples of numerous gods. Much like any of the other free cities. I know at least six temples there."

  "No, but what god do the Knights themselves worship? They have magical abilities, just like the paladins who are tied to Myria. Which god do they get their powers from?"

  "The Rhial Council is a very closed and secretive order. They are as alien to the rest of the world as we, the mages of Norvind are."

  "Is that why you're going there, Master? To find out more about them?" asked Lorian.

  From the way he had shifted when he'd asked the question, Lorian was sure that it was. Besides, there was nothing much of note in Simea except the Rhial Knights and their council.

  "I am sorry, Lorian. Master Gawain has entrusted me with an important task. One that he has urged is to be kept a secret. None of the other mages in the castle know about it either. So if you will excuse me..."

  Geleb seemed to have finished his work. Either that or he wanted avoid further conversation about his trip. Taking his bag, he moved away to another section of the library.

  Lorian was left alone, the closed book about the pantheon in his lap. He leaned his head back to look at the dome. The moon was still shining bright. He stood up and replaced the book in the shelf. He walked out of that section and moved to the history section. There, he picked out two books that he found.

  One was Thorevaux's account of his life with the Zalearr. The other, a small book about the history of Simea. He had an idea. One that would put him on a quicker path to master the Lumen, but he would first need to confirm his suspicions.

  Chapter 35

  Brie put her hands on the wooden cage bars and pulled herself up. The men who had captured her and Olaf were having a campfire. There were ten other men and women crammed into that cage besides Olaf.

  Poor Olaf, she thought as she looked at him lying on the floor. The bruises on his body had darkened now. She couldn't tell if he was sleeping because both his eyes were swollen shut.

  He was alive. That much was good.