Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "So that's a total of twenty-three major spells you're capable of," observed the hamster.

  That sounded about right, thought Lorian. Every other spell he knew was simply a variation of those.

  "Add to that the three new spells you've acquired due to Mog'rath's essence."

  "Three?" asked Lorian with genuine surprise.

  "The claw," said Orcus first, projecting a small image of Lorian's hand transforming. Lorian saw the thing phantom claw shoot out from his hand and wrap around Gawain.

  Lorian winced as he saw the claw tighten and crush Gawain.

  "Do you really have to show me that? Why not show me the time I used it on your friend?"

  "If you recall, I was running away in the other direction. Besides, the second time you used it was more focused and clearer. I would even say deliberate."

  Lorian was angry with Orcus for mentioning it, but that was only because it was the truth. Having the Lumen ripped out from his body was painful enough to make him want to lash out at Gawain. Mog'rath had only given him the means to do so.

  "And then you have your wings," continued Orcus. There was an image of him flying out of the way of the demon as it rushed toward him.

  He did master that one, but there seemed to be something off about the spell. The projection now showed the demon disappearing and reappearing right behind him.

  "Stop!" said Lorian.

  The projection disappeared.

  "No. I meant stop it there. Could you show it to me at a slower pace?"

  The projection started again, but this time it seemed slowed down many times. The demon was laughing and then it spread its wings.

  There! Lorian could see it now. The demon started flapping its wings vigorously. As the flapping intensified, even at the slower pace the vision was moving at, the demon appeared a blur.

  "You have a long way to go if you want to do that," said Orcus. "The heat generated alone is enough to burn the wings off your back."

  There was still potential. Right now, the slash on his back was killing him. Trying to pull out the wings would be agonizing.

  "So what's the third one?" asked Lorian. That had been the one he was waiting for. He couldn't recall having cast any other spell.

  Orcus started projecting again. This time Lorian was surrounded by the undead hordes. This had been right after he had killed the oracle Auros. Numerous minions of Amadeus began flooding the chamber. Lorian was firing off spells one after another, but the numbers just kept growing. He suddenly stopped and cast four shield spells around him. This was when he decided to cast the giant fireball. He saw parts of his clothing catch fire and burn away as he gathered increasing quantities of fire inside his body. And then he released the fireball, filling the room with smoke and flame. There were only cinders remaining once the spell died away. More enemies started flowing into the room.

  "What's new about this spell?" asked Lorian.

  "You don't see it? Watch closely now."

  Lorian concentrated.

  He saw himself turning away and running towards a large hole he had created in the wall, to jump out. More enemies began flowing into the room, but they began burning away at their feet. Some of them caught fire as they tried running behind him. It was the strangest thing he had seen. One of the walls began to disintegrate as well.

  "Hellfire," said a calm voice behind him.

  Startled, Lorian turned around quickly. Too quickly. He felt wetness, as parts of wound on his back opened again. He grimaced at the pain.

  The newcomer was a man wearing a dark cloak. Underneath the cloak he appeared to have armor, and on his hip, was a small dagger. The man pulled back his cowl to reveal and old but thin face.

  He dressed like a warrior, but Lorian could feel magic emanating from him. He was strong, but after standing in front of Amadeus, he doubted there were but few mages whose presence he would find intimidating. Before Lorian could ask the man who he was, he continued talking.

  "Produced by burning demonic essence. A corrupted flame that eats away at matter. Even small amounts of it are enough to consume a human whole. I see only traces of it in your spell, though. Most of it seems to be elemental fire."

  "Who are you? And how do you know this?"

  "The name's Vail. And let's just say I've...been around creatures that use that kind of magic."

  "What kind?"

  "You know very well what kind."

  "You're a Summoner!" said Lorian, his face instinctively curling up in disgust. He took a few steps away from the man. There was no way he could have broken into Norvind. Not with the new security measures Rhaen had put in place.

  "Disgusted? Hardly the response I'd expect from one sharing his body with a demon..."

  He knew. What was happening here? Who was this man?

  He wasn't ready for a battle in his current state. Orcus had been right in saying that spellcasting would kill him if he weren't fully healed. He could cast maybe two or three spells at this man before the pain from the wound on his back made him collapse. The man standing in front of him was no Amadeus, but Lorian could tell that two spells wouldn't be enough to kill him.

  "You can relax. I'm a mage of Norvind," said the man, holding up a cupped palm. His hand filled with golden sand that began pouring through his fingers.

  The Lumen. Inexperienced with it as he was, he could recognize it. He relaxed, thankful that he wouldn't have to get into a battle right now.

  "I was told I would find you here," he said.

  "So you're both a Summoner and a mage of Norvind?" asked Lorian. It was hard to imagine a Summoner being part of any other school of magic.

  "I was a Summoner once. But not anymore," he replied.

  "How long have you been standing there?" asked Lorian.

  "I walked in while the little hamster was showing you your wings. You stood against a lesser Azhurai and lived. I'm impressed."

  It was understandable that the man would know a lot about demons. Lorian was having a hard time discerning the man's motives. Lorian wasn't sure he could trust him, but he needed to keep the conversation going if he needed more information.

  "You've seen a lesser Azhurai before?" asked Lorian.

  "We had a few of them at Lasrim."

  "Had?"

  "They've been sent to serve Namoth in the tundra."

  "You've been to the tundra as well? You've seen Namoth?" asked Lorian, not hiding his excitement.

  "Oh, dear me, no. I hadn't earned the privilege yet. I was still an apprentice in one of the many summoning schools on the isle. The lesser Azhurai were among the strongest demons we had on the isle at the time. The amount of human essence sacrificed in summoning them still remains notorious."

  Lorian had always been disgusted by the thought of Summoners. It had been ingrained into him from a very young age. But he hadn't realized how many questions he would have if he ever met one in person. Hellfire. Lorian had never heard of it before, but this man seemed to know enough about it.

  Lorian suddenly grew wary though. The man had been a Summoner, but that was his past. The mages of Norvind wouldn't accept one such as him if he hadn't given it up.

  "Why are you here?" asked Lorian finally.

  "Mog'rath," he said.

  "What of him?" asked Lorian.

  There was no point denying anything to this man. He knew more about demons, and he had probably heard the entire story from Rhaen, which was why he was here.

  "How much do you really know about him?" asked Vail.

  "What's there to know? He's a greater Azhurai."

  Vail laughed.

  "And do you know the difference between a greater Azhurai and a lesser one?"

  "They look different. The greater Azhurai is much stronger than the lesser one."

  "Of course you know that much from your experience with Mog'rath. Appearances mean very little in the lower planes. A greater Azhurai is referred to as such simply because it looks like a larger Azhurai. In reality, the two are very differe
nt species."

  Lorian knew that. He had seen how afraid the two lesser Azhurai had been of Mog'rath.

  "That's interesting," said Lorian. "But that still doesn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

  "Mistress Rhaen told me of your...condition. It is that which I wish to speak to you about."

  "Go on."

  "I see that your essence alone offers you some unique powers now. That much is expected. But you should know that your current state presents a very real threat."

  "Threat? To whom?"

  "As extreme as it may sound, our whole plane."

  "You can't be serious."

  "By right of being a greater Azhurai alone, Mog'rath could command ten thousand lesser Azhurai. The rank of lord is bestowed upon demons that rule over one of the many lower planes. An arch-demon rules over several lower planes. And to give you a fair idea of what that means, ours is one of the smaller-sized ones."

  At some level, he had seen this coming. He would have known it even hadn't Mog'rath warned him of it. The mages of Norvind would not quietly accept him now that he harbored an arch-demon's essence inside him. He was far too much of a risk.

  He would have to be careful here. If he showed this man Vail that he desired Mog'rath's power, he would only confirm the man's fears. If he appeared too guarded, then Vail would sense that something was wrong.

  "So your solution is to kill me?" asked Lorian.

  "No," said Vail, shedding his cheerful demeanor. "Don't think that wasn't my first suggestion. In fact, a few of the other mages shared that opinion as well. But Mistress Rhaen would not hear of it. You are fortunate to have one such as her vouching for you."

  "What are my other options, then?"

  "You're interested?" said Vail, raising his eyebrow. "I half expected you to start casting any time now. I heard you're quite the hothead."

  That might have been an option, thought Lorian. In fact, it would have been his most preferred option, had he not been so wounded. But for now, he would have to convince Vail that he was on his side. That would be hard, considering the man had been observing him for a little while now.

  "I'm not stupid. I know the price I need to pay for Mog'rath's power. The only reason I did what I did was because I was dying. Don't tell me you would have done differently."

  "That's probably true. I can't pretend to know the circumstances under which this happened."

  "What do you propose I do, then? I can't very well just give up half my essence without dying. I don't want to feel that again. Ever," replied Lorian.

  "There are ways. You are a mage of Norvind now. We have some of the most powerful mages in the known lands with us. Master Gawain deemed you worth saving. And Rhaen told me of how you saved them while distracting the lesser Azhurai. Every one of the mages here would expend their fullest efforts to save you, if you were willing."

  "What ways specifically?"

  It was important to show just the right amount of interest if he had to appear convincing.

  "Your body requires as much essence as it does because of the power held within it. A modification of your body's nature would let it contain only your half of the essence."

  They would weaken him. Essences varied in quantity because of the body's abilities. Everything—his physical strength, stamina, magical power, even his lifespan—would be greatly reduced upon doing this. He would become an empty shell of his former self—something less than human. He wouldn't be surprised if such a process left him a doddering old invalid.

  His hands began trembling with rage as he thought about it.

  Mog'rath had been right. They feared what they did not understand, and would take any action, however rash, in order to quell their fears. Lorian tried controlling himself. He would give himself away if he expressed his anger. There had to be some way to deceive Vail into thinking that he, Lorian, was on board with this ridiculous scheme. That would buy him enough time.

  "Would I be able to use the Lumen then?"

  Vail's face brightened as Lorian had expected.

  "Yes. Your abilities with other forms of magic might be weakened, but the Lumen stands apart from all of them. All humans have an innate connection to the void. Lumenar magic can even replace some of your lost essence in time."

  Lorian made an effort to show relief on his face. He wasn't used to duplicity, but he found it exceedingly easy to fake the emotions necessary. Perhaps another gift from his demonic essence? Demons, after all, were well known masters of deception. Merely wishing to show an emotion was causing his facial muscles to respond.

  "When can we begin?" asked Lorian, feigning interest.

  "There are some more mages in the library who wish to speak with you. We still need to examine the nature of your body more closely to understand how best to deal with your modified essence."

  "I thought the Lumen forever lost to me," lied Lorian. Careful. He'd better not overdo it.

  Vail laughed.

  "The Lumen has a strange way of reacting to human emotions. I would go as far as saying that it even has the capacity to recognize sacrifice."

  That disgusted him more than anything else that Vail had said. Every time he spoke to a mage of Norvind, Lorian became more convinced that the Lumen was more akin to priestly magic. He smiled, trying to hide his true emotions.

  "We should go to the library now."

  Lorian made to follow Vail. The timing had to be right. He knew he was taking an incredible risk by doing this. Once he did what he intended to, there would be no turning back. They took the stairs toward the library and Lorian started gasping for breath.

  "We should take a look at that wound," said Vail, turning around to take a look at Lorian, who was panting. "Here, let me help you."

  Vail knelt to let Lorian put his arm around him.

  "I'm sure Norvind has excellent healers, but we saw a lot of these wounds back in the demon—"

  Lorian placed his palm at the back of Vail's neck. Impact air. A small globe of compressed air formed between his hand and the nape of Vail's neck. Before Vail could react, the globe exploded.

  Lorian grimaced as the recoil ran through his hand and traveled to the wound on his back. He felt the wound open and his back become wet with blood. Gritting his teeth, he regained his balance to not fall down the stairs.

  The spell, painful as it was, had done its job. It was equivalent to striking Vail on the back of his head with a blunt weapon. The man crashed into the stairs, his unconscious body rolling down them.

  "You had me fooled there," said Orcus, peeking out from his robes.

  Lorian started down the stairs quickly, wincing with each step.

  "They'll come after you when he wakes up," warned the hamster.

  "It'll be a while. I hope to be long gone by the time that happens."

  "You heard the mages talking. Even normally, teleporting in and out of this tower would be impossible. And now, with the increased security measures...not to mention the strain of a teleportation spell…"

  "It's a good thing I'm already out of the mage tower, then. Besides, the exit isn't too far from here, so I won't need to teleport."

  "What are we going to do now? You can't travel far with that wound."

  "I don't know. But first I need to get out of this castle. Quickly."

  "We need to get out of this city," replied the hamster.

  Chapter 59

  The best way out of a sticky situation, Slug the smuggler had told him, was never to get into it in the first place.

  Seymon sincerely believed in these words.

  As a smuggler, caution was paramount. Slug had several other such banalities he used to repeat over and over on the docks of Archon to young kids like himself. Sometimes Seymon wondered if Slug had ever been a smuggler at all. Still, at this moment Seymon was wishing that Slug had some words of advice for a lone smuggler backed into a wall by four of Aegis's finest soldiers.

  "We finally have you, you stinkin' rat," said the largest of the soldiers.
<
br />   "Sergeant Vanessa...please be reasonable," said Seymon.

  "Shut yer trap," said another of the soldiers. "No more words outta you."

  Three of those soldiers had their weapons out, while the fourth one, a lithe woman named Vanessa, the officer in charge of the three louts, stood leaning against a barrel ignoring Seymon's pleas.

  "We warned you many times, Seymon. You brought this on yourself," she said.

  "It's three hundred gold for six pounds of vermilion. Why would I risk my life for three hundred gold? I have absolutely no idea how the bag was missed."

  "You have no idea how it was missed because you're a greedy rat—that's why."

  The topic under discussion was a bag of vermilion spice worth about three hundred gold.

  It was one of the many items among Seymon's goods—goods that were among the most valuable cargo Seymon had smuggled in many years.

  He had intended for this to be an operation with minimal risk. It was essential that Seymon stopped at Bren to get a seal of inspection. Ships carrying the seal of inspection from Bren passed untouched through all the Aegean ports because of the influence that Governor Rennar held.

  It was mostly his personal ships that carried the seal, but the authorities at the docks would also provide the seal to some of the smugglers—at a price. The 'price' was an unofficial 'tax' on the contraband that the smugglers were carrying. This was low enough that most smugglers paid it without any hesitation. Seymon more than paid it. He had also passed on a tidy sum of gold to Major Aida, who was in charge at the docks of Bren, to ensure that the goods passed inspection.

  All had been well, and he had gotten the seal yesterday. He was having a final celebratory drink at one of the taverns with his crew when suddenly, three soldiers led by Sergeant Vanessa turned up and roughly escorted him out of the bar. Their excuse was a bag of vermilion spice that Seymon had supposedly hidden from the inspection. The spice itself was valuable, and the tax on that would be a few hundred gold, but it was a pittance compared to the rest of the goods that Seymon was carrying.