The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  Ivy faltered somewhat. This woman was a wizard, that much was clear, but she was no D’Karon. She was crying, and she showed genuine joy at seeing Mott. True, heartfelt sorrow and happiness were two things Ivy had never dreamed a D’Karon might show. Her mind mired in uncertainty, Ivy let her concentration lapse and mindlessly sloshed a foot down into the water. The splash echoed through the room and drew the eyes of both Mott and the grief-stricken newcomer.

  The woman’s lips peeled back in a snarl, and she snatched her staff from the water, brandishing it as the glow flared viciously. Ivy planted both feet and bared her own teeth, club held ready.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing here!” Ivy barked.

  “Who did this? And how dare you enter this place,” the woman countered.

  Her staff crackled with the beginnings of a dark spell, but Mott dashed out between Ivy and the woman and fluttered awkwardly up to block any possible attack.

  “Mott, get down. What has gotten into you?” the woman growled.

  It chittered excitedly at her.

  “What are you…” she began, but she paused and looked up at Ivy again. Her face brightened with joy and relief and she dropped her staff once more, clutching her hands to her mouth. “Oh… oh thank heavens. They weren’t all destroyed.”

  The woman began to rush toward Ivy, arms held wide, but the fox raised her club.

  “Stay back!” Ivy growled.

  “Oh! Oh, of course. Of course you are frightened. Why wouldn’t you be? After what happened here, that is only right. My apologies. Greetings to you. I’ve come a long way to find you.”

  “Who are you? Why have you come?” Ivy demanded.

  “I’ll answer any questions you have, and I hope you’ll answer some of mine, but would you perhaps do me the hospitality of continuing this discussion away from this horrid water? I’m afraid I’m a bit emotional. I’m having trouble shrugging off its icy sting.”

  Ivy glanced down. Now that the shock of the first meeting had passed, she was becoming aware of the biting pain in her feet from the sub-freezing seawater. The woman should have been in agony, as her feet were completely bare beneath the surface of the water. She backed up and climbed a stair or two. “Yes. I think that’s a good idea. But move slowly.”

  “I don’t think I could manage anything else. Mott, be a dear and carry my staff. I wouldn’t want our host to feel uncomfortable.”

  The group tromped up to the next level, and at Ivy’s behest, another level to the first marginally dry floor. All the while she kept an eye on the woman, but the only thing the stranger did was look over the remnants of the broken creations with the sort of heartbreaking expression one would imagine on the face of a recent widow.

  “This is far enough,” Ivy said.

  Mott took this as its signal to trot up to a groove in the floor and twist its head aside, driving the staff upright. It then scrambled up to coil and perch precariously about the staff.

  “Now what are you—” Ivy began.

  “One moment… just one moment please,” the woman interrupted. “Let me look at you.”

  She gazed upon Ivy with nothing short of wonder, reaching out with one hand as if to stroke the fox’s face. Ivy pulled back. The woman continued to look over her face and hands.

  “Beautiful,” she uttered reverently. “Simply gorgeous. There is no other word for it.”

  Ivy looked at the woman askance. “Most people don’t feel that way when they look at me.”

  “I’m not surprised… err… What is your name, dear?”

  “Ivy,” she said.

  “Ivy? Ivy… Heavens, I just heard that name recently. Blast it, I suppose I haven’t quite smoothed the wrinkles of the portal spell. No matter. You say most people don’t see beauty in you. I say most people haven’t got my eye for such matters, Ivy. Ah! And speaking of such. Pink! Pink eyes, Mott. Unfinished, and yet with such a magnificent hue. I’d never even considered it.” She turned to the beast, which to all appearances was her pet, looking him over critically. “No… no I don’t think pink would have suited you.” She turned back to Ivy. “We had a terrible time finding the right eyes for him. The poor devil was getting impatient.”

  “What do you…” Ivy began to ask, thoroughly confused. Suddenly she shook herself, remembering the severity of the situation. “Tell me who you are and what you are doing here!”

  “Yes, yes, my stars, yes. I’d forgotten my manners,” she said. “My name is Turiel. And I came here looking for your father. I was a student of his, in a way.”

  “My… my father?” Ivy said quietly.

  “Of course. Demont. His workmanship in you is unmistakable. A malthrope, too. Such a fine choice…”

  Ivy’s expression hardened, and she squeezed the grip of her club tightly. A flare of red washed over her, but she willed it away.

  “Oh! That is an unexpected twist of magic. Is that some manner of connection with your emotions? Inspired! That is quite unusual for Demont, isn’t it?”

  She shut her eyes and fought to control her emotions. “You worked with Demont?”

  Turiel rolled her eyes wistfully. “If only I had. I’m afraid I only met him briefly. Most of my interactions came by way of lessons from a young woman named Teht. Brilliant in her own way of course, but I don’t believe she had the same insight and dedication as the others…”

  Ivy’s heart was pounding and her mind was aflame with fear and anger. It was all she could do to keep it beneath the surface. She wanted to put her weapon to work, to eliminate this woman who brazenly and gleefully embraced the horrid monsters who had held their world hostage. But there was something wrong, something different. The woman’s eyes weren’t the eyes of a D’Karon. They were wild, perhaps not sane, but they were sincere. She didn’t smell of the D’Karon, didn’t act as they did. She truly meant what she said. Her admiration of Ivy, or at least of her form, was honest and heartfelt, and she seemed to have a real affection for the creature beside her. There had to be more to this. If she could find the truth without bloodshed, then that is what she would do.

  “How did you know the D’Karon? What did you do for them?” Ivy said, her voice almost cracking.

  Turiel tipped her head to the side, concern creasing her expression. “Is there something wrong, dear?” she asked, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Ivy’s shoulder.

  Ivy pulled back. “Please… just answer.”

  “What did I do for them? Some tasks, very minor from their point of view. I heeded their call, and I’ve been hard at work readying a contingency.”

  “Heeded their call?”

  “I brought them here.”

  The grip of Ivy’s club creaked in her hand, and her eyes plunged a few shades toward violet. “You… brought them…”

  Turiel smiled. She’d admitted to setting loose a group of genocidal invaders, but from her expression she may as well have been speaking of donating to a needy orphanage. “How could I not? I needed their help. I needed to learn the things they could teach me. Your father, Demont—”

  “He is not my father,” Ivy hissed.

  Now her expression became sterner. “Do not deny it. I know his touch. You should be honored. I can see that the soul and body are not matched. Surely you offered yourself to complete this masterpiece.”

  “I did not offer it. It was taken…”

  Ivy’s voice was cold, and growing colder. Her eyes were as deeply violet as the scattered gems around them. Blackness now stained the fur around her eyes as well.

  “Taken? Ah. Still a matter of honor, to know that he found your soul valuable enough to be a piece of this glorious mosaic that he’s made of you. And I’m curious, what is it that is happening now? The darkness, and the eyes. I’m fascinated.”

  “Darkness…” Ivy recoiled and shut her eyes. “Not that, not now!”

  “These auras, they are emotion. That much is clear. I’ve seen some blue, which I imagine is fear, and I’ve seen red, which must be anger.
Black? Something negative, certainly. Hate perhaps? All of this tinkering with state of mind, it seems more in line with Epidime’s sensibilities…”

  Turiel continued to muse, but for the moment, Ivy didn’t have the mind to spare to listen to it. She’d kept her emotions under control ever since the final battle. It had been a point of pride for her that she’d not allowed herself to change. That part of her, that frail spirit at the mercy of her stormy mind, was supposed to be gone forever. But if ever she were to let the emotions take over again, it would not be hatred. Anger and fear, even joy and duty, were fleeting. But hate… she’d felt it only twice before, and it sank its teeth deep into her, threatening never to let go. That dark thing, that twisted, murderous monster was precisely what Demont would have wanted. She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t allow it.

  For too long it was a losing battle. The hate was too strong. Images of all the evil that had been done by the D’Karon and on their behalf stung at her mind. Then something happened. She could feel a warmth about her, a connection that soothed her anxiety. It was precisely what she’d needed, and without it, she might have easily slipped away.

  She opened her eyes, and for a long moment her mind seized. Turiel had wrapped her arms about Ivy, pulling her into a tight, nurturing embrace. She murmured under her breath, as if to a child who had fallen and scraped her knee. No magic was at work, it was merely an act of caring, of compassion.

  “Dear, sweet thing,” Turiel said. “I understand. It is too much. You weren’t ready. Give it time, dear. You’ll find the strength.”

  Ivy pushed Turiel away, more gently than she’d imagined she’d be able to do.

  “Do you feel better, dear?” Turiel asked.

  “Don’t… don’t touch me again.”

  “Of course not, Ivy. I apologize. But you needed something. You seemed so shaken. Can you tell me, what happened here?”

  “What… what happened here?” Ivy said, already threatening to lose her recently regained composure. “Ether destroyed these things.”

  “Ether,” Turiel said, stepping back, wringing her hands. “Ether… yes. Yes, she is one of the adversaries. I remember now. The adversaries…” Her eyes narrowed and she looked at the malthrope. “Ivy was one of the names that woman mentioned. A malthrope named Ivy. You are one of them. But how? He made you! How could you be corrupted in this way?” She seemed distraught, betrayed. “Why would you turn on your creators?”

  “Do you know what the D’Karon did?”

  “A war, yes… Yes I know that they were involved in a war. But to suggest they would do anything they didn’t need to do is nonsense.”

  “Nonsense? Nonsense? Look around you!” Ivy said. She snatched up the sheared-away claw from a fallen creature. “Look at what Demont made! Look at me! These things were made to kill. And he used them. The worst of them were set loose into the world. His creatures have been killing the people for so long. We had to end them before they could do any more damage.”

  “If… if that is so, then it can only be because it was necessary. The D’Karon… the D’Karon are strong and wise. What did you and the others do to them?”

  “Bagu is dead. And I killed Teht myself,” Ivy said, her gaze steely and her grip on her weapon firm. “The rest were cast away, and we shut the portal.”

  “Teht… you killed… Ivy you… I needed them. They had so much to offer this world. So much to teach me…” Tears were in her eyes.

  “They meant to control us, to take our world for their own.”

  “No… no, you don’t understand. How can I ever hope to be what I need to be if… how can I ever learn to avenge my sister if…” Turiel stepped forward and clutched her staff, Mott skittering to the ground. “You need to go.”

  “Turiel, if you brought the D’Karon here, then you need to face justice for what happened.”

  “I brought them here. And if you forced them away, then they must be brought back.”

  “I won’t let you do that,” Ivy said, raising her weapon.

  Turiel thrust her staff forward, its head burning and crackling violently. “I won’t let you stop me.” The very shadows began to shift and coil, creeping into the brilliant light as strings of inky blackness. “For turning on your creators you deserve so much worse… but you are the work of Demont. And in your eyes I can see that you are a child and you were not ready for the gift you were given.”

  The tendrils lashed out, coiling about Ivy’s club and tearing it from her hand. The malthrope rushed forward, but threads netted together and ensnared her, hurling her back.

  “Go, child. Your siblings are about to awaken, and they may not be as charitable as I have been.”

  Ivy looked desperately around her. The tendrils were piercing the remaining portions of the fallen creations, pulling them together. Jaws began to clack and snap even before the heads found their way to their bodies. More tendrils drove themselves between the cracks and wormed their way to the other floors. The shift and grind of motion rumbled all around her, stirring terrible memories of her other times spent in Demont’s workshops. She threw herself against the web of tendrils twice more, clawing at it in a vicious attempt to get to Turiel.

  “You can’t do this! They’ll kill people! You can’t control them!”

  Turiel turned and gazed at Ivy. “I don’t mean to control them, Ivy. They aren’t mine to control. I mean to understand them. Now please go, run. You are a fine piece of work, a masterpiece from the hands of the D’Karon who had the most to teach me. I don’t think I could bear seeing you destroyed.”

  Mott chittered and whined, looking back and forth between Ivy and Turiel. The creature was clearly distraught, like a loyal dog that doesn’t want to see a beloved master leave.

  “There, there, Mott,” Turiel said, running her fingers over the monster’s head. “Perhaps in time she will find her way.”

  Ivy cried out and flared with red as she tried and failed to force her way through the tendrils, but it was no use. Every blow was caught and slowed by the ribbons of black. The care taken not to hurt her, and to keep her from hurting herself, was evident. For the first time she could remember, Ivy found herself wishing she could push herself past the breaking point and give in to the fury that had seen her through so many battles before, but her mind wouldn’t allow it. The anger was tempered by fear. Fear of what would happen to her if she remained in this place, but more so fear of what would happen to the others if she wasn’t there to help defend them. She had to get out. And she had to do it now.

  She growled in frustration and turned for the stairs, quickening to a run. Behind her the tapping footsteps of Turiel slowly followed, conjuring more tendrils as she went, awakening more creatures. In four leaping strides, Ivy cleared the first stairwell and sprinted out onto the floor ahead. Mott had lit the way with his little gem on the way down. Without him the scattered slivers of crystal provided the only light, but Ivy’s sharp eyes didn’t need much. She could see black ribbons slipping out from between the stones of the floor, weaving themselves into the bodies of Demont’s broken toys. The lashing filaments of darkness coiled and clutched about blindly, constantly threatening to trip the charging hero. When their thrashing finally brought them into contact with a fallen beast, they coiled about it and dragged it together. Other conjured ribbons abandoned their fruitless searches and continued upward into the ceiling and the floors beyond.

  By the time she had reached the well-lit top floor, the shuffling and clawing of restored creatures was echoing all around her. Her boots slid and scraped across the icy crust of frozen sea spray as she ran, but she managed to stay on her feet. She squinted at the bright light of the outside when she finally reached the exit. Ahead, the carriage had been turned and the guards were standing with swords ready. The worrisome sounds had not gone unnoticed, even with the churning of the sea to dull them.

  “Go! Move! There are things coming,” Ivy called.

  “You heard the ambassador!” Celeste said, snapping into action.
“Ambassador Krettis, inside the carriage.”

  “What do you mean? What sort of things?” the ambassador asked as Ivy skidded to a stop before her and ushered her inside.

  “You’ll see them soon enough,” Ivy said breathlessly, rather roughly helping her Tresson counterpart into the carriage. “And you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  Once both Krettis and her aide were inside, Ivy stepped in but stood up and hung out the open door to face the fort behind them. Celeste did the same on the opposite side. They were barely rolling up to speed when the first monsters stepped into the light. It was a pair of stone wolves, stiff hair on their backs standing tall and sharp like porcupine quills. In three strides they had matched the ponderous pace of the carriage, and in two more they proved they could easily close the gap. Mounted guards turned their horses to face the foes, the three Alliance fighters then spread across the surface of the narrow island to block the way. They’d barely raised their swords when the wolves reached them.

  “No!” Ivy called out.

  She dove from the moving carriage and rolled once, landing on her feet and grinding to a stop before dashing for the soldiers. One wolf dove for a soldier and knocked him free of his horse, opening its jaws to snap at the man’s throat. Ivy plowed into the hulking beast, hitting it harder than a creature her size should have been able to. She and the wolf tumbled back toward the fort, sliding near the edge of the island. The wolf slashed and swiped with its claws, teeth gnashing hard enough to send chips of stone flaking free, but Ivy somehow managed to keep the worst of the blows from her flesh. When the rolling slide stopped, they were only a few feet from the edge of the island, and the wolf had her pinned.

  Acting on reflex more than anything else, Ivy coiled her legs and planted them on the belly of the monster. It was far heavier than a flesh beast would be, but desperation and fear are powerful things, particularly for Ivy. She cried out in effort and heaved with both legs, forcing the monster up onto its hind legs and back toward the edge. It roared and slashed at her, lacking the mind and instinct to preserve itself as her continued efforts pushed it farther up and farther back. The guard she had saved reached her and threw his weight behind a thrust of his sword. It struck the wolf square in the neck and drove it back just a few inches more. It was enough for the scrabbling hind claws of the beast to reach the edge. Icy stone crumbled away and the monster pitched off the side, clashing and clattering across the sheer stones and splashing into the frigid sea.