The Sorceress in Training: A Retelling of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  “I’m from a good family. And I’m sharp, I swear it.”

  “You’re a girl, though,” he says like he’s just now come to terms with the fact. “I’d rather have a male apprentice.”

  “I learn quickly,” I promise, hoping to sway him.

  He nods slowly. “You’re not a witch, are you? I won’t have any of that nonsense in my home.”

  I shake my head so abruptly; several strands of my white hair fall from my braided crown.

  Still thinking, the man runs his eyes over me—not in a smarmy way, as some men do, but in a detached, clinical appraisal. “You’re a lady of noble birth?”

  “Yes, Master Sorcerer.”

  “Marcus,” he says absently, still mulling over my request.

  “Marcus,” I breathe, beaming.

  His frown deepens as he corrects, “Master Marcus.”

  “Of course.” I stand straighter, looking as prim and proper as can be. “Master Marcus.”

  “You won’t be a nuisance?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told?”

  “Yes.”

  Is he considering it? Surely not. But is he?

  “And you’ll stay out of my business?” he continues. “Keep your mouth shut about things that don’t concern you?”

  The way he says the last bit makes me pause, but I find myself nodding. “I will.”

  “Very well—”

  Yes! Oh, joy! Oh, blissful day!

  “—You may study under me on a trial basis.”

  “Thank you,” I gush, stepping out of the road so he may continue. “Truly, I will be a model student. I—”

  “We will see. Meet me in Heston a week from today, go to the College of Sorcery and ask for me.”

  He then gives me directions, but I realize I have a rather significant problem. Heston is not exactly nearby.

  “Master Marcus…I have no horse or carriage.” Not ones at my disposal anyway. “How am I to travel to the city?”

  I won’t lie. A large part of me is hoping he’ll gallantly offer me his hand and pull me on his horse so we may ride away together, never to look back. It’s a romantic notion, one that’s immediately dashed when the sorcerer’s eyes flicker with irritation.

  Immediately, I wave my words away. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

  Somehow.

  2

  The sun has just about set, and the spring air has cooled considerably. I stand, satisfied the axle should hold until the next large village. As I rise, something catches my eye from the shadows of the carriage, just below the door. I lean down to get a closer look and find a book. It must have fallen when Brynn stepped out.

  I pick it up, and memories hit me fully in the chest. It’s her favorite. I tuck it close, glad to be the one to rescue it for her—and knowing I’m a fool to think it.

  “Where’s Brynn?” one of the men asks, looking around. “Gavin, have you seen her?”

  I glance back to where I last saw Lord Calvin’s youngest daughter. She was sitting on a boulder, watching us while we worked. I straighten, wiping my hands on my already filthy trousers, looking for the girl. The shadows have grown long, and her absence feels ominous.

  I should have paid more attention to her. She looked awfully pleased for a young woman stranded in the middle of the forest.

  Shaking my head, I exhale slowly. Where did she go? I think back to earlier. I had been riding ahead, trying to keep my mind off our task—telling myself I could and would have the willpower to leave Brynn at the college.

  I returned when I realized the rest of the party was no longer behind me. Brynn stood next to the lopsided carriage, looking very scholarly in her modest gray gown with lace at the neck. Her silver-blonde hair was twisted in a tidy braided crown. She looked like a well-bred lady, prim and proper and as off-limits as a girl can be.

  And she is off-limits. More than any girl I know—more even than any noble girl I know.

  I shouldn’t have let her snare me with her secret smiles, not when I knew she was destined for a life of quiet solitude. If I’d been wise and kept my distance from the start, I wouldn’t carry the memory of the way she nibbles her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought, or how her cheeks flush when she’s genuinely amused with something.

  I wouldn’t know how she hides her books of poetry and stories of romance behind history and science texts, or know how she looks when she’s frustrated with me, when she’s wondering why I don’t return her affection, though I do. I do.

  But like a fool, I did fall for her, so I pretend. I hide my feelings, lock them inside. She’s not a young girl now. At twenty, she is grown. But it doesn’t matter. No matter her age, I can’t have her.

  Still, it would be a lie to say I didn’t feel her watching me all afternoon. But in the last hour, with night falling, I became consumed with the task of fixing the carriage. This is not a forest you want to linger in after dark.

  “Lady Decarra?” the driver hollers as the rest of the men spread out, looking for her down the road. “Where could she have gone?”

  “Perhaps she needed to take care of lady business?” Graham asks, and the others foolishly agree, figuring she’ll be right back.

  But I know better. It was that look on Brynn’s face—the quiet, silent joy. I’d bet good money she’s run away.

  “I’ll ride ahead,” I tell the others, mounting my horse. “See if she wandered a little too far.”

  Graham’s expression flickers with concern, just for a moment. “I’m sure she’s close. Our Lady Decarra is a good girl.”

  Our lady.

  But Brynn isn’t ours. She’s no longer the darling girl who had every guard in her father’s employ wrapped around her finger…some of us more than others. She’s lost, gone.

  Sent away, discarded.

  How could Lord Calvin ask this of her? Doesn’t he know her at all? Brynn is too vibrant for the drab college. Too full of life for silence.

  I only nod, knowing the naive members of our traveling party don’t know Brynn as well as they think. I leave the men to their shouting and nudge my horse into a canter, feeling the tug of urgency in my gut. Hopefully, she stuck to the road. It’s far too dangerous to wander here. We’re at the edge of Ivalta, the kingdom of the mountain elves. They are reclusive and generally peaceful, but they’re not always gracious to humans who trespass on their land. I’m from this kingdom, grew up in this vast forest. I know it well, and it’s why Lord Calvin chose me to lead the party.

  It’s almost dark when I spot Brynn on the road up ahead. If I hadn’t been looking for her, I doubt I’d have noticed her at all. As soon as she hears me, she darts into the trees, waiting for me to pass.

  I continue, pretending I didn’t see her, and then pull my horse to a stop when I reach her hiding spot. “There are wolves in the woods.”

  Silence.

  “They hunt at night.”

  Still, she doesn’t answer.

  “I know you’re there, Brynn.”

  My mare shifts under me, but I patiently wait for the girl to make herself known. No one wants to walk through this dark forest alone at night, especially when the breeze has a cold bite to it as it does now. I’ll coax her out and take her back to her carriage, even if it’s the last thing I want for her. It’s my duty.

  After a long moment, the brush rustles, and Brynn steps out, revealing herself. I try not to snort when I spot the leaves clinging to her hair. She’s taller than most girls, willowy, but with pleasing curves I try to ignore. Her features are delicate but sharp. There’s an impish look to her, one that says she won’t easily be swayed…but she dares me to go ahead and try.

  A good girl indeed.

  “I’m not going back, Gavin,” she needlessly informs me. I already know her opinion on the matter.

  “You’d rather face the wolves?”

  She glances around, looking less sure of herself, and then turns back to look at me. “I suppose I would.”

  �
��I must take you back,” I tell her. It’s an apology, a cloaked plea for forgiveness.

  Despair flashes over her face—there one moment, hidden the next. We stare at each other for several long seconds, neither of us giving in. Finally, Brynn steps forward, the rigid set of her shoulders softening as she pulls her eyes from mine and holds her palm out for my horse to sniff. Star, who doesn’t like anyone, shifts closer, inviting Brynn to pet her nose.

  “You could say you didn’t find me,” she says after several long moments.

  “I can’t leave you out here, not alone.”

  She looks up, and our eyes meet once more. Her mouth softens, her lips parting ever so slightly, and I feel my resolve crumbling.

  How can’t she know how I feel about her? That I’ve been lost to her since we first met in the orchard behind her father’s estate? She was in that blasted apple tree, her silver hair undone, reading a book her father wouldn’t have approved of. She wore white that day. I thought she was an enchantress.

  And that reminds me…

  Without breaking eye contact, I reach into my jacket and pull out the collection of sonnets. “You lost something.”

  “Oh,” she whispers, her face lighting with joy as she reaches for the book. “Where did you find it?”

  “It was on the ground, just under the carriage.”

  “Thank you.” She tucks it close to her chest. A smile flits across her face—something just a touch wicked. “I don’t suppose you saved the history?”

  “I don’t suppose you care that I didn’t.”

  “What if you came with me?” she asks abruptly, taking me by surprise. Her gaze is intent, locking me into place. “What if you saw me to safety and then told my family you never found me? They’ll think you valiant for searching for so long.”

  I pride myself on being a rational, sensible sort of man. One who’s not prone to romantic fancy or any of the other nonsense that plagues foolish men when they’re around a pretty girl. But there’s something about Brynn that undoes me every time.

  I study her so long; her fingers begin to twitch over the book’s cover. Catching herself fidgeting, she stands a little straighter. “Say something.”

  I can’t entertain such thoughts—can’t let them seep into my mind. But Brynn watches me, her eyes begging when pride will not allow her mouth to form the desperate plea.

  Instead of answering, I extend my hand.

  She stares at it for several moments and then looks back at me. “Do you agree?”

  What am I doing? Don’t be an idiot, Gavin. Take her back.

  Like a wretched, heartsick boy, I hear myself saying, “Yes.” And all because she’s Brynn, and for four years, she’s been my everything. Even if she doesn’t know it.

  Before she can grasp hold of my hand, she turns her head. Riders are coming—several of them.

  She lets out a soft gasp, and her eyes widen with terror. “We’ll never get away.”

  “Brynn,” I say, drawing her attention back to me. “Take my hand.”

  Still, she hesitates. “Swear it, Gavin. Promise me you won’t drag me back to them?”

  “I won’t,” I say, and then her palm meets mine, and I’m pulling her up, helping her onto the back of my horse.

  “Hold on,” I command, knowing this is the most asinine thing I’ve ever done. “It’s going to be a rough ride.”

  Brynn lets out a yip as we take off, making me worry she’s going to fall right off the back of the horse. Before I can reach for her, she wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face against my back. I’m temporarily distracted, but instinct takes over, and we leave the road, racing into the trees, following a deer trail.

  I sense the men on the road behind us as they frantically look for the girl they lost in the falling night. I’m a thief, stealing her away. Guilt racks me, but it’s woven with a tendril of foreign thrill. Brynn is warm at my back. Soft. Her skirts brush against my legs, but I can’t think of that, especially now that her shoulders are shaking.

  “Are you all right?” I demand, not daring to slow down, not now. Her father will have my head if I’m caught helping her escape. And I don’t even want to think of what he’ll do to her.

  She answers by tipping her head back. She’s not crying—she’s laughing.

  “Can you go faster?” she urges, her words tickling my neck.

  “We can try.” I dare a glance at her over my shoulder. “Hold on.”

  She tightens her grasp on me, and I nudge Star, begging for more. The mare gallops at a breakneck speed, happy to comply with my wishes.

  We run until the moon comes up, until our path is illuminated in dappled, cool light and the night is silent except for the call of an occasional owl.

  Only when I’m positive we’ve lost them, do I slow my pace, giving Star a much-needed break.

  Brynn and I sit in silence for a long while, taking in the sounds of the forest. She leans in close, possibly spooked. I doubt she’s ever ridden at night before.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, shifting behind me, sliding her hands a little tighter around my waist, unknowingly driving me mad. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  The excitement of the run, of the sheer stupidity of the risk, has my blood racing. If I were to answer Brynn now, I’d likely say something I’ll forever regret. So instead, I place my hand over hers and nod, hoping it’s enough.

  3

  Dreams are made of nights like tonight. I can barely breathe, my cheeks are frozen, and my arms are wrapped around Gavin like I belong here. Never in my life did I imagine a moment like this. Forever, even when I am old, I will remember what it’s like to escape into the dark night and charge toward the unknown.

  The difference in our ages doesn’t feel so acute at the moment. Before, I felt young and naive around Gavin—a silly, infatuated girl—but now there’s nothing but safety in his presence. I am desperately relieved to have him with me.

  The forest smells different in the moonlit hours, crisper. The evergreens’ scent is sharp, and it mixes with cold mountain air and distant hearth fires.

  And though it’s dark, and we’re very alone, I’m far from lonely. I’ve never been so close to anyone, not like this. Gavin is warm, and I can feel his muscles shift as he breathes. I could probably let go now that we’re not tearing through the forest, but I don’t…and he doesn’t ask me to.

  Maybe that means something. Maybe it doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter right now.

  “Where am I taking you?” Gavin asks after a while, breaking the silence. “Were you planning this escape, or were you hoping a solution would present itself on the road?”

  I nudge his side. “Thank you for voicing your confidence in me, but I do have a plan.”

  “Are you going to elaborate, or must I drag it out of you?”

  “All right. I’m going to be…”

  “Yes?”

  “A sorceress,” I say quickly before I lose my nerve, my chest warming at the words even though the statement sounds ludicrous.

  My rogue guard angles back, his expression more than a little incredulous.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” I poke his ribs. “I secured an apprenticeship.”

  “When?”

  “Two hours ago, maybe three.” I shrug. “I’m not sure how long we’ve traveled.”

  His eyes widen with disbelief. “Two hours ago?”

  I try to hide a smile, always enjoying the way Gavin looks when I’ve said something to throw him off-kilter. He never particularly appreciates it, however, when I let that amusement show.

  “Maybe three,” I repeat.

  “Are you telling me you met a random sorceress on the road today? After the wheel broke?”

  “Sorcerer,” I correct, clearing my throat at the same time to partially obscure the word.

  Immediately, Gavin pulls his horse to a stop. He leaps from the mare’s back and waits for me to dismount as well. The breeze is cool without him blocking it, and I awkward
ly swing my leg over the horse’s back, wrestling skirts that weren’t designed for riding.

  Once I’m off the horse, with my feet planted firmly on the ground, Gavin stands a good head taller than me. “Sorcerer?” he demands again.

  “Yes, it’s the male counterpart to sorceress—”

  “Brynn.”

  I love it when he drops the title and simply says my name. It lights a fire in my core, makes me long to hear it a hundred times over.

  “He seemed respectable,” I argue.

  Well, respectable enough.

  “It doesn’t matter if he seemed respectable, you can’t—”

  “Gavin.” I say his name softly, and it’s enough to bring his lecture to an abrupt end. “You know Father. If I were to run off and become a minstrel or a wanderer or a poet, do you think he’d forgive me?”

  After a moment, my guard shakes his head, though I can still see the fight in him brewing under his carefully composed surface.

  We’ve become close over the last four years, though not in the way I so desperately hoped when I was young. Gavin treats me like a good friend’s younger sister—one who is a touch reckless and far too in love with him for his comfort.

  “But a sorceress?” I continue gently. “A position at the pinnacle of the learned arts?”

  “Perhaps,” he says after a long moment.

  The forest is quiet around us, and a cool breeze blows through the trees, making me shiver. It’s a shame I didn’t think to bring a cloak before I wandered off earlier.

  “You’re cold.” Gavin shrugs off his jacket, but instead of handing it to me, he steps in and wraps the warm material around my shoulders.

  We’re alone, and it’s so very dark. Naturally, my imagination runs away with me. It hits me for the first time that I’m free—not only to choose my own path in life, but to love.

  “Gavin?” I say again, but this time my voice is breathy, maybe even a touch hesitant.

  He adjusts the jacket at my shoulders, fussing just a little too long. “What?”

  “Why did you help me?”