Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "Riv..."

  Unable to bear it anymore, Riven collapsed into the man's arms. The smell didn't bother him now.

  For a few minutes, he had become a child once again. Even through the smell of rotting dead rats and excrement, he could feel the familiar smell of his brother.

  Toskk, who had protected him from the cesspool that was Archon.

  Toskk, who had been his father, mother and his brother.

  Toskk, who was possibly the only man in this entire world who cared for him.

  Memories flooded his mind. All the good things Toskk had done for him.

  "It hurts Riv. It hurts so much."

  Riven lifted his face and looked at Toskk. He was clearly in pain. His face was locked in a grimace. It was pain that had driven him mad.

  "They did something to me. The Summoners. It's taken root in my head."

  Toskk screamed, holding his head in both of his hands.

  What had they done to him?

  "We need to leave," said Riven, wiping away his tears. He caught hold of Toskk's hand and began to lead him out.

  The guild-hall would be empty now. With the dragon burning it down, there would be no more thieves left here. If they were careful, Riven would be able to lead his brother out. He had spent a lot of their gold in his grand plan, but he could still make more. Then he would find a way to cure his brother.

  "No," said Toskk, withdrawing his hand.

  Still crawling, he reached for Riven's blade, lying on the floor. Picking it up, he placed it in Riven's hand.

  "Do it, Riv. Please. I can't take the pain anymore."

  What the hell was he saying? Riven rushed forward and grabbed Toskk's hand. His stupid brother had put the blade on his heart.

  "No. We need to get out—"

  "I said do it!" screamed the man.

  Toskk was gone. He had turned back into raving maniac that had greeted him from the darkness when he opened the door. Riven struggled to take away the blade from him.

  "What are you doing?" Riven asked in in a muffled voice as the stranger wrestled him to the ground.

  "You can't have my rats! You filthy piece of shit! C'mere."

  Riven tried kicking free, but the man was still wrestling with him.

  The blade! shouted the voice.

  Riven moved his head just in time to avoid the blade. It sank into the ground, stuck.

  The man was still tugging on it as Riven tried crawling away.

  What had they done to his brother? The man kept pulling on the blade with both his hands.

  He needed to knock his brother out. Maybe then he would be able to somehow drag him out of here. And find a cure.

  Riven heard a loud scream. Startled, he turned around and saw the man clutching his head again. Having been unsuccessful with the blade, the man fell onto Riven once more, catching his leg with both hands and trying to pull him back into the darkness. Riven tried kicking.

  And then he felt it. The teeth!

  No! The man had bitten into his leg.

  Riven tried forcing himself away but the man dug his teeth deeper into Riven's calf.

  His blood! Even a single drop was too much! He froze in horror as Toskk released his leg. Riven scrambled toward the wall of the cell, breathing heavily.

  What had Toskk just done? His blood! Riven felt his head go light. He felt dizzy.

  "At least it'll kill me. It'll hurt a whole lot more than this...thing that they put into me. But I'll die in a day...maybe less if I'm lucky..."

  "Toskk?" asked Riven, his lips quivering. How did he know? And if he knew, why the hell had he done it?

  Riven dropped his head into his knees and began sobbing.

  "Stop crying, Riv. You're too old for that now. I wanted to do it. At least knowing that I'll die gives me a measure of peace."

  He didn't even know what to say to his brother.

  "What will I do without you?" sobbed Riven. "Where will I go?"

  "Anywhere. Except this dung heap. I never wanted to raise you in Archon. But it was the only place I could make a living."

  Riven knew he shouldn't cry, but he couldn't stop. Riven had always been a loner. He never had friends. Most of the other children his age were afraid of him. The adults always treated him like a child.

  But he had never felt alone before. Somehow, knowing that his brother was going to die—it made him feel alone for the first time in his life.

  "Culltown," said Toskk as he came forward to hold Riven. "That's the name of the town you were born in. A place in Ryga. We left after the demon war. You were born shortly after it, so you probably don't remember much. Our mother died when you were born. And there were...men. Men who came looking for you. Dad wanted them to have you, but...I killed him. I killed our father, Riv. I'm so sorry."

  What was he saying? Was this more mad rambling?

  "You're different, Riv. I've always known. But I don't care. Never did, and still don't. If anything, it makes me glad that you're so...strong. I can die in peace knowing that."

  Riven cried.

  Stop crying! screamed the voice.

  Shut up! Riven screamed back, so loudly that it disappeared.

  "Just promise me you'll leave Archon, Riv. There are men here. Sometimes they come looking for you. If they find you..."

  Clutching his head, Toskk screamed again. This time louder than before.

  Wiping away his tears, Riven stood up.

  His brother said he knew about him, but he was wrong about one thing. Whatever the Summoners had done to him, Riven knew his own blood was far, far worse. Even thinking about what his blood would do to Toskk made him shudder.

  Wiping his face, Riven walked to the screaming man. Closing his eyes, Riven slid the blade into his neck. Blood gushed out into a small pool as the lifeless body slid down to the floor. Some of the blood had splattered onto his hands.

  What had he done?

  The only thing that could be done, said the voice.

  Looking at the blood on his hands, Riven closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, holding his breath.

  Raising his head, Riven breathed deep. And screamed.

  A scream that echoed through the night of Archon, drowned out by a dragon's roar.

  Chapter 78

  Lorian had a newfound respect for Rhaen as the flame of the dragon licked at his robes. She had fought against a creature like this? A dragon empowered by Amadeus's dark magic, no less. And a female dragon at that. Female dragons were supposedly much larger and stronger than their male counterparts.

  Lorian had trouble even making a single move against the dragon. He had been on the defensive ever since he engaged it. Dahl had been right in saying that elemental fire couldn't damage the dragon. His fireballs might as well have been flies buzzing around the dragon's head for all the good they were doing.

  It wasn't that elemental magic was weak. It was the easiest of the magical schools to learn. But it was extremely hard to gain proficiency with. It took far more practice than other forms of magic. And it truly was a feat to become great with it. Master Thaugmir was one. As was Nader the Mauler, whom he had seen at Norvind. With a subtle difference: they were known as greater elemental mages.

  It had been Lorian's goal to become a greater elemental mage when he first began studying magic. Fireballs such as those that took the greatest effort for Lorian to release were mere child's play for a greater elemental mage. They didn't release fireballs like Lorian did. They released a sheer pillar of fire. They were beings that became rifts in the mortal plane. Their bodies formed conduits to the elemental planes, bringing to the mortal plane all the raw energy and devastation contained within. But for now, Lorian had to make do with lesser elemental spells.

  He ducked behind the guild-hall, narrowly avoiding a jet of flame. What was taking them so long? He rested against the wall as it grew red-hot at the edges from the dragon's flame. Many of the residents of Archon had flooded into the streets.

  He would have liked to cast his hellfire at
the dragon, but it took too much time, and he had its near-undivided attention.

  Damned Coran! What was he doing? Hadn't Dahl mentioned that the both of them were to distract it? As far as Lorian could tell, the idiot had done nothing since this fight began.

  He remembered now. Coran was fighting against Adrian. For a moment, while fighting Dahl, he thought he had seen a familiar face, but had dismissed it as being impossible. But now that he thought about it, Master Thaugmir always sent Coran on errands to buy things. It wasn't that unlikely that Coran had been sent here on such a task.

  When the fire subsided, Lorian flew back up into its vision. The dragon was heading straight for him, and as he had expected, he was no match for it in the sky—the gale of wind from its wings alone was too much for Lorian to maintain balance. It seemed he had much to learn about flying with his wings. He was using them mainly to dart around the buildings for cover from the dragon fire.

  It would close the distance between them in seconds. While he had figured out the timing of the dragon's breath, he had sorely underestimated its raw strength.

  And he hadn't even considered its tail. It came crashing down on the building adjoining the hall, causing it to crumble.

  Lorian turned around to face it, launching fireballs at its head. They didn't hurt it in the least, but they certainly agitated it. He could have tried lacing them with hellfire, but he had a feeling he would need to conserve his energy if Dahl ever got his plan in motion. It couldn't breathe fire for a few more seconds, but he knew what it would do. He had to get away from the guild-hall.

  Lorian darted over to the next building as the massive dragon tail raced at him like a spiked whip. His shields would be utterly useless. Lorian descended as quickly as he could. He felt a gust of wind and lost his balance as the tail swished above his head, smashing into the building. There was a loud crash followed by a storm of dust as the building fell to the ground.

  "Where will you hide, wretched demon spawn?" boomed the dragon's voice.

  Its breath! It would use it any time now. Lorian needed cover. He raced into the dust storm. A desperate tactic, but it would give him enough cover. A river of flame shot towards the dust cloud. Anticipating it, Lorian dropped to the ground, taking cover behind some debris.

  Blazing heat as the flame washed over the rubble. The core of the dragon's breath had been aimed into the dust cloud it had seen Lorian disappear into. Lorian looked up to see the dust catch fire and burn.

  There was no more time. He had to take it back to the guild-hall and just hope that Dahl was ready.

  "I will burn this island out of existence before I let a spawn of Naxannor live!" roared the dragon.

  Laying low, and under the cover the buildings, Lorian flew to the wrecked guild-hall. Absent the side and roof, Lorian could see all three levels exposed and burning. On the third level he could see the three Summoners. And useless Coran. The Summoners were standing in a circle and chanting from the looks of it. Lorian darted into the opening and landed next to Coran.

  "Why are you leading it here?" screamed Coran.

  Coward! Lorian could have punched him in the face, but decided to ignore him, and instead looked at the Summoners. There was a green circle drawn in between them, glowing with runes. He heard the roar of the dragon and remembered its sense of smell. It didn't need to see him. Lorian could tell it was on its way to the hall as well.

  "You couldn't have come at a better time," said Dahl, grimacing with pain. It seemed the circle was using up most of his energy. Not to mention the other two Summoners.

  "It should be here any second now. What's the plan?" asked Lorian.

  "It won't work!" interjected Coran, looking worried. To think Lorian once respected him at some point during his apprenticeship at the spire.

  "Quite simple, really," said Dahl, ignoring Coran. "We'll bring it down. And then you burn it!"

  A shadow fell over them, blocking the moonlight as the dragon soared above. Lorian heard sparks as the runic circle behind him began glow brighter and brighter.

  "I was hoping we'd get to use it sometime during this trip!" shouted Dahl with a manic smile on his face. "Watch, boy! And learn!"

  A green pillar of light flew into the sky. Lorian thought at first that it would strike the dragon, but instead the pillar lost its rigidity and began dancing like a snake. In a single flash, it split into a dozen thinner green snakes that wrapped themselves around the dragon.

  Lorian lost his balance as the building shook. These were nothing like the tremors he felt before. It felt as if the entire building would get ripped off from its foundations. The dragon was fighting the snakes violently, biting at them and flapping its wings. But the shaking stopped as Lorian felt a burst of magical energy behind him. The runes glowed wildly, sending arcs of lightning around the snakes and into the dragon.

  The roar that followed was one of pain. And anger.

  "Get ready!" shouted Dahl. "And remember what I told you about hellfire! Its strength is strongest near your body!"

  "Madness," said Coran, taking a few steps back, looking at the sky.

  Lorian saw the dragon being reeled in towards the guild-hall. His hatred for Coran in the last few minutes had reached a boiling point. But it looked like he was right about this. Madness.

  Where were they going to drop the dragon? On top of the guild-hall?

  It would crush them all with its weight. Surely Dahl had a better plan.

  Shit! Lorian flew up as he realized the dragon really was going to crash into the guild-hall. His bones shuddered with the shockwave of the dragon's weight hitting the ground. It had landed right in front of the guild-hall, but the force was enough to send the sturdy building crumbling to the ground. Thankfully, they were all on the third level, and without a roof it was easy to take flight and avoid the crumbling building.

  They landed back on the rubble as soon as the crumbling building settled. Lorian could see the dragon lying on its side, the green snakes sending arcs of electricity through its body as it roared.

  Coran! The idiot was standing too close!

  "Lorian! Help!" he shouted. He had an expression of horror on his face.

  Lorian was about to yell a warning before he saw the dragon raise its mighty claw. Before Lorian could even form the words, the claw came racing down and crushed Coran out of existence.

  "Fool..." said Dahl echoing Lorian's thoughts.

  Dahl came to a stop on a pile of rubble and started casting. It wasn't a spell, but the green snakes wrapped around the dragon responded by tightening and buzzing with more electricity.

  "We can't hold it down for too long. It has to be now! Aim for its underside! Nazer, Edwin! Summon the hellions!"

  Lorian could see that at least one of the snakes had broken apart. The dragon opened its mouth to roast the remains of the guild-hall, but the flame that left its mouth was weak and broken. There was a snake wrapped around the dragon's throat, obstructing its breath.

  As if realizing it, the dragon started thrashing with its tail and its free limb, sending violent shockwaves in all directions. The sound was deafening.

  Flying into the sky, out of the reach of the dragon's claw, Lorian observed. He saw several frenzied hellion wolves heading for the dragon. They were little more than distractions to it. Two of them latched on to its face, but the dragon shook its head, tossing them away and crushing one between its teeth.

  Dahl seemed to be focusing on the green snakes. Lorian flew down to the dragon's underside. With one of its limbs and a deadly tail thrashing about, there was little room for Lorian to get close, but it had to be done. And it had to be done now.

  Having conserved most of his energy by evading the dragon, Lorian was sure he could push himself to the limit. Hellfire, he thought as he landed by the dragon's belly. It would only have to roll over to completely crush him, so he worked fast.

  He emptied his body of elemental energy and focused. He ground his teeth, digging his nails into his palms, filling hi
s mind with images of violence to trigger Mog'rath's essence.

  Something was different this time. Instead of images of humiliation, hatred and pain, he focused his mind on the destruction that Mog'rath had wrought upon Amadeus's plane. How he wrecked eight hundred years of the dark necromancer's work in an instant.

  Hatred and lust were emotions as normal to demons as breathing, Orcus had said. But they weren't natural to him, and as much as he forced himself to feel them, there was always a limit.

  Yet he found that there was one emotion he shared in abundance with demons. The lust for power. It was perhaps the worst time to experiment, but he knew, subconsciously, that it would work.

  Mog'rath's essence responded by flooding his body with hellfire. More images poured into his head of conquering entire nations with Mog'rath's power. Of defeating mages as great as Gawain himself. The three continents would kneel before his might.

  And then he felt the hellfire swell. It began burning his insides, but he felt a voice in his head. It spoke to him. Commanded him to ignore the pain. The wounds would heal once this battle was done. The skin on his hands began burning. His robes melted away due to the unreleased heat inside his body.

  When at last he felt his entire body become hellfire itself, his mind went blank.

  Gone were the images of power and the images of dominance.

  All he could see was an endless sea of red.

  The sights and sounds of the world were completely blocked out. The dragon could crush him now and he wouldn't know, let alone feel it.

  Within the fiery sea, he saw the frightening visage of Mog'rath. The silence inside Lorian's head was shattered by the menacing demon's voice.

  "Burn," it commanded.

  Lorian screamed as he snapped back to reality and found himself enveloped by a blazing torrent of hellfire.

  Spreading his hands, Lorian let it flow onto the dragon's underside. The fire still burning, Lorian felt his legs give way. His body felt as if it were drained of life. He was quickly losing consciousness. Yet he smiled with grim satisfaction as he saw dragon skin erode, blood and viscera gushing out from a large wound on its underside. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes involuntarily closed and he lost all sensation.