The Lone Apprentice

by I K Spencer

  "We will have plenty of water soon. Go ahead and wash with as much as you need," Cidrl called out as he returned with an armful of wood.

  Still unable to see much, Anthen made his way back over to his mount and felt around his pack for a cloth and soap to wash himself. The thought of being in the foul water made his skin crawl and he scrubbed furiously, relishing for once, the rough, gritty soap. By the time he finished scouring his entire body, his vision seemed better even though his eyes still burned. He put on clean clothes after pulling away a few leeches and other disgusting creatures he could not even identify. He then suspended the contaminated clothing from branches near the fire, using a stick to handle the reeking garments.

  "We will reach fresh water tomorrow and you can wash them properly," Cidrl commented. He had a decent fire banked, as good as could be expected with deadwood for fuel. "Are you feeling better? Let me take a look at those eyes."

  "I can see better. I feel as weak as child, though, and I doubt any food would be tolerable."

  "Aye, they are red and swollen," Cidrl commented as he peered into the apprentice's puffy eyes. "I have never known anyone to ever come back up out of one of those sink holes so I do not know what you are in for. I suggest you take some brandy in case you swallowed anything."

  Cidrl went to his pack and pulled out a strange-looking bottle, unlike anything Anthen had ever seen. It was a crude-looking vessel, made of thick, uneven glass. The suspicious apprentice watched closely as Cidrl pulled the cork and took a long swallow. The older guardsman grimaced as he put the cork back on. He then walked over and handed the bottle to Anthen.

  "Strange decanter is it not?" Cidrl queried, seeing Anthen peering suspiciously at the container.

  "What is it?" Anthen asked as he scrutinized the strange markings on the face of the heavy bottle.

  "It is a Dolonarian concoction. Basically it is a brandy but they lace it with herbs and spices, some for their flavor and some for their healing qualities. It has a strong flavor; the Dolonaries like their food heavily spiced and seem to have the same preference in their drink. I have grown a taste for it."

  Anthen breathed in the pungent scent of the liquid and took a small sip, swishing the liquid around in his mouth.

  "Do not drink it too freely though, young friend," Cidrl warned, "It is potent."

  Something in the older man's voice made Anthen glance up suddenly. Just for an instant, he saw a look on the man's face that chilled him to the bone. The usual warm, easy grin was contorted into a maniacal grimace and he saw an unearthly glimmer to the man's eyes. He stared again and the disturbing image disappeared, replaced once again by the friendly smile of the charismatic guardsman. Was it just his imagination?

  In the moment of shock, though, Anthen had swallowed the strange drink. He felt it sting his throat and doubted it would stay down but to his surprise, the foreign brandy settled his stomach almost immediately. Weak and exhausted, he sat and watched Cidrl prepare a meal. The older guardsman placed some of the dried meat strips in a pot over the fire with some water. He then mixed some corn meal and water and fried the batter into flat cornbread cakes. He fried several slices of the pan bread, then thickened and salted the softened meat and water mixture into gravy.

  Though Anthen's stomach felt better, he just nibbled on a slice of the cornbread while sipping the Dolonarian brandy, which also seemed to have soothed his throbbing head. Cidrl came over to Anthen to fill his own cup with the spicy liquor, then took a seat across the fire to happily consume the rest of the food he had prepared. The large man used the flat cornbread to scoop up the meat and gravy.

  "Welcome to Dolonar," Cidrl said between mouthfuls. "We are still a good distance from any inhabited area but we are on Dolonary soil."

  Anthen nodded. He was exhausted and the pleasing effects of the foreign spirit rendered him uninterested in conversation. Cidrl smiled and, seemingly sensitive to Anthen's weariness, launched into a series of tales about Dolonar.

  Anthen reclined against his saddle and listened attentively to the stories. As the young man expected, the charismatic guardsman was a master storyteller, using his strong voice and expressive face to bring the narratives to life. In time, he closed his eyes and let his mind fill with the scenes and images the storyteller's rich tales evoked. He pictured the thick forests and majestic waterfalls as the comforting voice described them and could feel the excitement as Cidrl depicted a time when he was surprised by a Dolonarian cavalry unit and forced to take flight.

  Perhaps inevitably, the hypnotic voice combined with the potent drink and weariness lured the young guardsman to sleep. Just before the conscious images were replaced by dreams though, a sensation of apprehension passed through Anthen. From somewhere deep inside a small, barely audible voice tried to rouse him but at the same instant, the master guardsman's mesmerizing voice seemed to grow louder and drown out the voice of warning in his subconscious.

  Anthen dreamed, his unconscious visions so vivid he could feel the wind in his face and smell the trees as they raced from the pursuing Dolonarians. He was riding along a narrow, twisting road surrounded by dark jungle on both sides. Anthen looked over his shoulder at the band of Dolonarian riders in hot pursuit. He could see their angry, red faces and he ducked an arrow launched at his head. Looking forward again, he saw Cidrl motioning him to turn left at a junction they were fast approaching.

  Both riders pulled to the left onto a wider, straight road. Anthen pulled his bow up and swiveled around. The flat, straight path gave him a clear target and he quickly felled four of the riders. Cidrl called out to him and he turned to see riders coming at them from the front. Cidrl pointed at an opening in the thick forest and the guardsmen raced for it.

  As they entered the opening, darkness engulfed Anthen. He followed Cidrl, dodging trees and ducking branches. When he glanced back looking for their pursuers, the opening was no longer there, only dark forest. When he looked ahead again the older guardsman also was gone. He halted and looked around in all directions, seeing only dark, thick forest. He listened but could hear only the trees rustling in a slight breeze. He turned and rode a short distance back in the direction from which they had come but found no opening, only more forest.

  He turned again and rode back to the point where he had halted, in order to trail the older guardsman. He dismounted and searched for Cidrl's trail but could find nothing. In fact, the only tracks he found anywhere belonged to Rorc. Bewildered, he saw no other course of action except to continue on in the same direction that they had been headed when he lost the older guardsman.

  The puzzled guardsman rode as fast as the dense woodland allowed. Though he could not see even an inch of sky above, the deepening gray light warned him that nightfall was fast approaching. As the light faded, he rode more cautiously and slowed Rorc to a walk when he could only see a few feet ahead.

  He was making his way carefully around a tree when he misjudged a limb. The stout branch caught him on the forehead and somehow, even though he was barely moving, the blow sent him tumbling from the saddle as though he had hit the branch at a full gallop. The stunned warrior landed on his back, his head spinning, confused by the sharpness of the impact when he’d been barely moving. He shut his eyes against the pain and attempted to clear his aching head.

  Anthen felt heat washing over him and when he opened his eyes in alarm, he saw that he was lying next to a campfire. The blaze was bright and banked high and he shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness. He smelled the familiar stench of the burning deadwood limbs but the fire seemed much too high for the poor fuel.

  A shadow fell across him and he looked up with a start. He recognized the shape of the older guardsman. Cidrl stood over him but gone was the warm, charismatic face he had grown accustomed to. Instead, Anthen recognized with horror the inhuman face he had witnessed earlier and chalked up to his active imagination. The man's once-friendly eyes bulged with intensity and were illuminated somehow, though his face was in shadow. Like before,
Cidrl's mouth was twisted into a huge grin, so wide it looked as though it must be painful.

  "Rise!" Cidrl commanded in a strange voice that seemed to come at Anthen from all directions instead of from the figure looming above him.

  Anthen jumped to his feet. He started to draw his sword but could not make his hand reach for the handle. It must be a dream!

  "Just a dream," echoed the ethereal voice, mocking his thought. "Lamentably for you, one may easily be bound by a dream." The apparition's leering mouth somehow widened farther and began to laugh, though there was no hint of mirth in the eyes.

  "Kneel." The voice boomed in Anthen's ears and he fell to his knees without the slightest hesitation.

  Cidrl drew his sword but it was not the weapon the apprentice had sparred against on a daily basis. The unearthly weapon was alive with blue fire—tiny specks of blue that danced all along the gleaming blade. The traitor held the sword up to the heavens. Anthen watched in awe as his own hand, seemingly with a will of its own, reached and withdrew his sword. Instead of striking the monster down, however, the hand drove the blade into the earth in front of him. He bowed and rested both hands on the grip of the sword without a verbal command from Cidrl.

  Cidrl began to speak in a tongue unfamiliar to Anthen and to his astonishment, he joined the chant, his mouth forming the strange words in unison with the dark lord's booming voice. He felt his mouth move but the sound of his voice was strange, seeming to come from outside his body.

  To his horror, his detached voice continued on alone and in his native tongue. "I stand against Jamen and his realm. I withdraw my oath of loyalty and renounce Jamen, the Guard and the entire kingdom of Isaencarl. All guardsmen are my sworn enemies." He tried with all his strength to pull his hands back to cover his traitorous mouth but his effort had no effect. It must be a dream! "You are my master. I place myself in your hands for the greater good." His vision started to fade as he uttered the oath. The terrible realization finally came to him that this was no dream. He was about to step into the abyss of endless darkness. The traitor had won and he had failed. He would take his own life at that very instant if he could. "I give myself unto your command. I pledge my life, my soul, my body, and my will to you," the detached voice said in monotone, belying the young guardsman's inner despair.

  Anthen's vision dimmed to blackness. The last thing the beaten young man saw was the blue fire from the wicked blade as it touched his shoulder. He felt the searing pain as it leapt from the evil weapon to his body. An image of Urvena fluttered momentarily before him, then he saw and felt no more.

  Cidrl lifted his face and arms to the dark sky and howled with laughter. His latest initiate stared toward the fire unblinking.

  "You are a fool Jamen!" the traitor screamed to the heavens in triumph. "You send an apprentice to face me? You think he could resist my power? His suspicions only made him more vulnerable and he, like the others, did not have a chance!" The former guardsman howled with mad laughter. "You will pay dearly for such a foolish mistake. Perhaps I will have him cut out your heart before your very eyes. But first you will bow down before me as I take your crown. Your time is near. Nothing stands in my way now! Jamen do you hear me!? Nothing!"

  Chapter 23

  Exhausted, Garrick slumped against a tree, barely conscious. The aging warrior's face was covered with dried mud, which did little to cover the large, painful welts resulting from numerous giant insect stings. He hadn't understood Anthen's message regarding the odorous repellent until after an attack, which had left him feverish and weak through most of the day.

  He hadn't fared as well as the other two and was still in the midst of the swamps. Though he couldn't see the moon, he guessed it to be well past midnight. He sat with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He had lost count of the number of times the vile creatures had attacked him since sundown.

  At first he had thought he was doomed due to the sheer number of serpents. In the first attack, they had caught him by surprise; one had his leg and another was encircling his panic-stricken horse as several others slithered forward. He had kept fighting though, and when he finally had managed to behead the one wrapped about his leg, several of the other giant snakes fell upon the corpse. While the others were distracted, he had been able to cleave the viper on Lance in two. In the ensuing attacks he had advanced and slain one of the creatures as quickly as he could, then had finished off those that fell upon their brother.

  Lance stood nervously above him, tied to the trunk on which he leaned. This hellish place was bad enough during the light of day. At night, it became a nightmare of chilling sounds and eerie, flickering light. Even a mount as well-trained as Lance couldn't be trusted not to take flight in such horrific conditions. He guessed that it had been nearly an hour since the last attack and hoped that the unclean beasts were through for the night. Though his head nodded forward and his eyes were shut, his ears listened closely to the countless noises emanating from the surrounding swamp, straining to hear any advancing serpents before they were on top of him.

  Suddenly, the slumped guardsman sat bolt upright and uttered a cry as a sharp pain passed through his breast. He rolled to the side, groping at his chest for the arrow or spear he guessed would be there. He quickly scanned the perimeter to locate the attacker but could see or hear nothing. Frowning, and finding neither a wound nor any reason for the sharp pain, the confused guardsman warily pushed himself back up to a sitting position.

  The initial pain had eased but there remained a dull throb in his chest and he felt light-headed. It was then he noticed how heavy the elven stone felt around his neck. He hurriedly pulled the amulet from inside his tunic and stared at it, eyes widening in alarm. The gem was completely dark and that meant one of three things; Anthen was either no longer wearing the amulet, no longer lived, or had succumbed to the traitor’s sorcery.

  He felt an overpowering urge to remove the necklace, which made him suspect the third option as the most likely and thus the amulet had begun to steal his life force to battle the spell. That knowledge only strengthened the urge; the once-soothing stone now felt repulsive. The fact that the necklace seemed to dig into his neck might be only in his mind but he knew the throb in his chest was not imaginary. Though immensely difficult, knowing the amulet was slowly taking his life, he dropped the dark stone back beneath his tunic and slumped forward to wait out the rest of the night.

  ********

  Cidrl rose shortly after dawn. His latest lieutenant lay unmoving in a coma-like sleep, oblivious to everything save his master's voice.

  "Wake," Cidrl commanded and Anthen's eyes opened instantly, though he did not move otherwise.

  "Rise and break camp," the master said absently as he rose from his own bedroll. Anthen rose immediately and rolled up his bedroll. He then moved about the camp mechanically, doing the things he would normally do. His face was devoid of expression and his eyes never wavered from his task. He moved slowly but without hesitation. When ready to leave, he simply stood frozen beside Rorc, eyes staring blankly forward as though he were blind. Cidrl ordered his new slave to do a couple of his own chores, then mounted up and told Anthen to follow.

  The pair continued east throughout the day. The terrain changed subtly throughout the day and by late afternoon, they were far from the last vestiges of the marshes and deadwood trees. The land remained relatively flat as they rode into thickening, lush rain forests. The explosion of vegetation was a stark contrast to the wasteland they had passed through. Tall, heavily vined trees filled the jungles and leafy shrubs limited visibility to just a few feet from the narrow trail the pair followed. Several warm showers fell upon them in the course of the day.

  Cidrl's demeanor changed as well. He no longer smiled or kept up his cheerful banter. He behaved like a man traveling alone. He completely ignored Anthen except for an occasional command.

  Near dusk, they halted at a clearing. Within a few seconds, a small envoy of soldiers stepped into the clearing, encircling the
m. Most of the men were armed with spears or pikes and a couple carried longbows, which were slung over their shoulders. Unalarmed, Cidrl waited for the leader to approach. They exchanged a formal greeting and after a quick exchange, the pair continued on with the Dolonarian foot soldiers as escort.

  The strange party followed a narrow trail. A few of the soldiers ranged ahead of the main group, deftly widening the trail with their swords. The group moved until the last of the daylight was spent, then the soldiers quickly cut back the jungle on either side enough to make a suitable camp. Soldiers were dispatched to make fires and bring water and soon the air was filled with the smell of roasting meat. Anthen set up their camp at Cidrl's command, then stood immobile.

  The soldiers were typical Dolonarians in appearance. They were short and stout; the tallest probably came only to Anthen's chest. They had large hands and feet and wide faces. Their skin glowed with a bright orange hue, which gave the appearance that they were endlessly excited or angry. In his right mind, Anthen would have noticed their eyes, dark and suspicious as they watched the strangers but soft and twinkling as they laughed with one another.

  A pair of soldiers brought food over to Cidrl and Anthen. Cidrl happened to be turned away and did not see them draw near so they approached Anthen. While acting on one of his master's commands, the spellbound guardsman seemed normal from a distance, so the soldiers were unsuspecting. They greeted him with a wary smile and extended a bowl of food. They tried a second time, then grew alarmed and angry with his perceived indifference.