Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "I know very little of this man Dahl. I've been picking up rumors from around the tavern while we were sitting there. Two of the thieves guarding us were also talking about him. He's very violent. They talk of a merchant named Garvin, whose entire household he slaughtered."

  "You should know that the violence they're capable of is no reflection of their abilities..."

  "That's true. And even if it does, your transformation into Mog'rath..."

  "I can't really count on that," said Azrael. "There was a brief moment in Thellis where I thought I would need his powers, but I couldn't really...bring him out."

  "You would need an enormous amount of essence to do so, I would believe. Far more than is available at hand."

  "True. Besides, I'd rather fight this battle myself—or make use of his powers—than have him take over my body entirely."

  "You're almost there with the claw. Save for that, you seem to be able to use the other spells."

  Lorian nodded.

  Back on the ship itself, Azrael had begun working on the spells Orcus classified as 'demonic.' The wings, the claw, and the hellfire. The wings were easy to use at a basic level. Though he would need much more proficiency if he had to use it the way he had seen the demons in Amadeus's plane do so.

  The claw was harder to figure out. But it worked only when Lorian, or perhaps Mog'rath, felt an intense hatred for the target. A bouncer they were fighting against had grazed his axe against Lorian's cheek while on Thellis. He lashed out and the claw had crushed the life out of the man. That was just the fourth time Lorian had made use of the claw. Without a living target for his hatred, he couldn't even feel the presence of the claw.

  The hellfire had been quite tricky. Lorian had been fascinated with it ever since Orcus, and Vail had mentioned it. It was a different form of fire compared to elemental fire. It didn't flow as elemental fire did. And trying to make it flow simply ruined the spell. Like the claw, it relied on an intense feeling of hatred.

  But the catch was that hellfire could only ignite the air around his body. Trying to focus it further away from himself made it much weaker. The only way Lorian could effectively make use of it without being in close range was to first ignite the air around him and then launch a conventional fireball which would lace itself with some of the hellfire.

  It certainly made his fireball stronger but it was nothing compared to the intense heat of the pure hellfire around him. The one man he had used it on in Thellis had become a hunk of black, charred flesh. It had even scared his shipmates. Until he understood more about it, he decided only to use it in conjunction with his elemental fire.

  "Why do these demonic spells rely so much on emotion?" asked Lorian.

  "It has to do with the way demons are built. The master studied them for several years. Humans feel emotions in reaction to external stimuli, but demons foster emotion first. They already feel hatred towards all living creatures, mortal and immortal. They envy every creature around them for whatever little they possess. The hatred you find so difficult to foster against a target is as natural to them as breathing is to you."

  "Makes sense I suppose. Amadeus made some really good progress while in the simulacrum, eh?"

  "That he did."

  "What else did he study other than demons?"

  "All manner of creatures. Even some creatures that mortals consider gods."

  "Gods?" asked Lorian, astounded. "How is that even possible?"

  "You think it impossible, but the master had a very clear scale in which he ranked creatures. Demons, humans, gods. Gods are just creatures that are connected to a different plane that other creatures are not. The eternal plane of life. This gives them considerably more power than other creatures, but they are creatures still. And as any other creature, they can be killed, as evidenced by the dead god that forms the core of the Lumen."

  "The plane of life? I thought it was their essence alone that gave them strength."

  "Life isn't just an essence. It's a force that binds essence to the flesh. Such a binding requires enormous power. Power only a god is capable of harnessing. Power that can also be used destructively. Living creatures only contain a small spark of it, but it's enough to bind essence to flesh."

  "Wasn't Amadeus able to do the same?"

  "Not really. His creations were hybrids of undead animated with necromancy and essences of dead creatures. He had to severely alter the essences to bind them to the bone. What they lacked, he enhanced using his own necromantic skills. And even after that, they could never retain everything they had in life. Necromancy is powerful in animating flesh, but in binding essence to flesh...it's far inferior to life force. And the only way he could emulate life force was to twist the Lumen's essence with necromancy."

  "I don't know about that. Irith'arcana seemed pretty powerful."

  The little hamster snorted.

  "She is powerful in death, but only because she has given herself completely to necromancy. In life, she was a far more glorious creature."

  Hard to believe thought Lorian. A dragon more powerful than the one he had seen?

  "I never thought about it that way. Gods as just...another kind of creature."

  "It takes getting used to. The master reconsidered several of his own goals the day he came to that understanding."

  "Do you still remember everything?" asked Lorian.

  "Not everything. Auros destroyed a good portion of my memories when he transformed me. But I do believe they're still intact in my brain somewhere. I still haven't gotten used to this body."

  Lorian was a little sad at that. Orcus was also one of the creatures that Amadeus had raised from death.

  "Are you really fine in that body?"

  "I am. It has given me an interesting perspective."

  "I really could research spells to alter your shape."

  "This is fine. I appear more innocuous this way. My kind are more suited to observing than to doing."

  That was something that had constantly been biting Lorian. He had this nagging question in the back of his head, but he was afraid to ask it. If tonight's battle took a turn for the worse, Lorian could very well end up dead. He decided to ask it anyway.

  "What are you going to do? Now, I mean. I know you've been with me since we escaped from Amadeus's lair. But..."

  "But what?"

  "Are you really fine being with me? If you don't want to, I can find a place—"

  The hamster snorted again.

  "I'm not staying with you because I have to. I want to. To see and hear interesting things is the goal of an oracle's life. You harbor the essence of an arch-demon inside you. And you have a thirst for power that rivals even Amadeus. There are few places more interesting to me on this plane?"

  Lorian felt his spirits lifted. They had banded together only in order to escape from Amadeus, but he was really beginning to enjoy the hamster's company. It pleased him to know that the oracle found him interesting enough to observe.

  He heard a knock on the door, before it opened and Marcus walked in.

  "Well rested, I hope? We should go now. The lieutenants are all assembled. Thanril's men as well. Balthus and Seymon are giving out the spell-breaker blades and some amulets, trinkets and whatnot. I don't suppose you'd need any of them?"

  Lorian shook his head.

  "I'm ready then. Let's go."

  "You might want to leave your…pet…here. Could get a little dangerous tonight."

  "No, it's fine. He's been through much worse. He can take care of himself."

  Marcus shrugged. Lorian got out of the bed and followed him out.

  *

  "That does look...pretty," said Gale, for lack of a better word, as he watched a hundred tiny lights dancing around Illazehra. They seemed to be of different colors, shapes and sizes.

  "It's called the spellsong. It lets me ascertain which spells I'm capable of casting. Not all of them are suited for battle. I need to pick out the ones I need most."

  Illazehra was sitting
cross-legged on the bed in their inn room.

  "You can't cast the remaining spells once you pick some?"

  "I can. This is merely to help me focus and stabilize my connection to some planes more than others. If I don't, it's constantly in a state of flux. It often happens when you learn a vast number of spells and use them regularly. The spellsong shows me everything. I then dismiss the ones I don't need while focusing on the ones I do need. That helps me determine and get myself habituated to the correct levels of energy to maintain."

  Gale wasn't sure he completely understood. But if it would help her in battle, then it was good.

  He had seen the two mages they put on retainer, and neither of them looked really useful. At most, they would serve as a distraction to the Summoners. Getting good mages on such short notice was far too difficult.

  There were other good mages from different islands and continents. But they just didn't have the time to procure their services. If they waited any longer, the Ravenlord would be forced to intervene.

  Neither Renal nor Darius wanted that.

  Nobody knew the identity of the Ravenlord and they preferred it that way—that he remained unseen. All that mattered was that the guild-masters pay their dues to him. As long as that happened, the Ravenlord didn't intervene. Somehow Gale had a feeling both Renal and Darius would end up dead if the Ravenlord got involved.

  "You should let her focus," came a quiet voice from behind him.

  Ceívar. The Black Raven lieutenant had awoken just a day ago, but he seemed to have fully recovered from his wounds. He gestured for Gale to follow. Gale looked at Illazehra one more time before he followed Ceívar outside.

  "You shouldn't be fighting tonight," said Gale.

  Ceívar laughed.

  "Me? What about you? I'm a lieutenant here. You've nothing to do with the guild anymore."

  Gale remained silent.

  "I see. You've fallen for the girl, eh?"

  "Nothing of that sort!"

  "Gah, save it for someone who doesn't know. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I could care less what happens in your pants."

  Gale winced at the words.

  "You need to watch over her. Not for yourself, but for all of us. You don't know what these Summoners are capable of. All those bastards nodded while the demon hunter was explaining things, but not one of them will remember a word when they see a hellion wolf rushing at them. The lieutenants, maybe. But the soldiers? Forget about it. They're just fodder for the Summoners."

  "That's a very...negative way of looking at it."

  "Call it what you will. Eight of the lieutenants. You, me. The demon hunter, Illazehra and Kugan. Renal. These are the only ones we can count on tonight."

  "There's one more mage..."

  "The new kid upstairs? Are you serious?"

  "Illazehra thinks he's good."

  "He could be a talented mage, but he's still a kid. All that study in the school goes out the window in a real battle. You can't count on him."

  That was probably true. Seymon's crew had been full of praise, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

  "Your job is to keep her alive. Balthus is going to look after Kugan. They always go for the mages first. Just keep her alive. I have a feeling we'll need her."

  Gale nodded.

  Not that Ceívar needed to tell him anyway.

  Ceívar started removing the last of the bandages on his body and began putting on his leather armor. Gale could see four long slashes on the side of his body where the Ursvang had struck him. He had been bleeding profusely from them.

  "You need to answer some questions," said Gale.

  "Oh? And why would I need to do that?"

  "You owe it to me."

  "I don't owe you shit. I could have made it out of there alive on my own. The only reason you stayed was for the girl. And don't pretend otherwise."

  Gale was taken aback, but he understood on some level what Ceívar was feeling. To be saved by a man like Gale would have hurt his pride more than anything else. Gale had far from redeemed himself for letting Garvin's house get slaughtered.

  Everyone in the Ravens felt the same way about him. He was tolerated because they needed him, but he knew they looked down on him as a coward. Save for Renal, no one here even knew him.

  Ceívar noticed that Gale had remained silent.

  "Look, I'm sorry for biting your head off. And I guess I do owe you...a little bit. Just leave it be that I can't tell you everything right now."

  "I have a vague idea..." said Gale, realizing something.

  "What?" asked Ceívar, looking suspicious.

  "Does it have to do with a circle, a moon and a star?"

  Ceívar looked at Gale completely stone-faced. The expression was all the confirmation that Gale needed.

  "You tell a single soul, I will gut you."

  "So what, you're a double agent then?"

  Ceívar rushed forward and thrust his hand at Gale's neck.

  A foolish move. One borne out of anger.

  Gale blocked it with one hand. Using the other hand, he caught hold of Ceívar's palm and twisted it, driving the man to his knees in pain. Gale twisted his hands behind his back and pushed his face into the table.

  "Raise your hand against me once more..." threatened Gale.

  Ceívar grunted in pain as Gale pressed down. Gale released his hand and moved back as Ceívar started gasping for breath.

  "You're not above hitting a wounded man, eh?"

  "Not if the wounded man reaches for my throat. And you're welcome to try when you're fully healed."

  "I actually am fully healed," said Ceívar with a wide grin on his face.

  This seemed more like the usual Ceívar he knew. Gale didn't incidentally hurt Ceívar while defending himself. He knew that men like Ceívar respected strength above all.

  "Does Renal know?" asked Gale suspiciously.

  "Of course not," said Ceívar.

  The response came out too quickly. As if he had expected the question.

  "Liar," said Gale, smiling.

  *

  There was a good reason why the Black Ravens, or any other thieves' guild for that matter, never tolerated freelancers. It employed not just thieves, but assassins, warriors, disgraced paladins, mages, smugglers and even merchants. Why not? Even those in trade needed to get their hands dirty occasionally. That was in a normal city. In Archon, more often than not.

  You paid your dues to the guild. A moderate percentage from your own income. In return the guild provided camaraderie, opportunities and protection.

  In their eyes, freelancers were simply upstarts who thought themselves special. Individuals who thought they could do better on their own. It simply wasn't fair to those in the guild who paid their dues.

  Freelancers were given a warning. If ignored, a firmer one was issued with some extra penalties. Penalties that often included broken or missing body parts and severe taxation for a short period following the freelancer's forced induction into the guild. And if the freelancer still proved difficult, he was simply removed.

  Gale had been a freelancer once, but he only needed the one warning to accept the guild's invitation. To him it was simply stupid to pursue life in Archon as a freelancer.

  You made more gold, sure. But your days were quickly numbered.

  It wasn't just the risks of being a freelancer. It was also the wide array of opportunities that the guild provided, that lured Gale to it. You had access to what was probably the most comprehensive network of information in the Aegean Empire.

  So comprehensive that even Ithaca, the capital city, paid attention and made use of on occasion.

  The empire didn't care much for the island of Archon, having only incorporated it into the empire as an afterthought. But even the government officials understood that the Black Ravens brought order to an otherwise chaotic city ruled by vice and corruption.

  For Gale, the guild provided information on lucrative jobs, companions
with very specialized skillsets that he could team up with to pursue jobs of any kind.

  And Gale had done them all.

  Break-ins, smuggling, pickpocketing, assassination, robbery, extortion.

  His greatest skillset, his peers and superiors had noted, was his ability to weigh risk against reward and select only the most profitable jobs. If there was something strange about a job, Gale simply knew.

  It was in this way that he had quickly risen through the ranks.

  In stark contrast was another rising star—Renal.

  While Gale carefully measured his options, Renal was wild and dangerous. He took on even the most dangerous of jobs without breaking a sweat. Stupid, in Gale's opinion, but impressive. Men and women in the guild would often gaze in wonder when Renal returned unscathed when they had all assumed he had gone to his death. Together, they were the new faces of the Black Ravens. The new generation.

  Small wonder it was when the two of them were assigned a job together.

  You were free to pick your own jobs, but one of the downsides of being in the Black Ravens was that there were some jobs you were ordered to do and simply couldn't refuse.

  Such as jobs handed down from the Ravenlord himself.

  The mysterious and mythical head of the Black Ravens. Nobody knew who he was but they all knew that the guild-masters received their orders from him in envelopes bearing the magical seal of the Ravenlord. This particular job was an assassination. That of an old, semi-retired thief by the name of Gilligan.

  Renal and Gale were to pick six other men and waylay their target at the docks. He was apparently in a hurry to leave town, and it was imperative, the Ravenlord's orders said, that the man be killed immediately.

  From what Gale had heard, he was not a conspicuous thief. Gilligan had been a part of the Ravens for close to twenty years. In all his time, his advancement had been unremarkable if anything. Just another thief making his living in Archon. On a normal assassination, Gale would have gone to great lengths to investigate the nature of his target, but as their guild-master had mentioned, time was of the essence. And Gilligan simply couldn't be allowed to leave, iterated the guild-master for probably the hundredth time.