The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

Turesobei took the next room to be near her, in case something happened. Enashoma, Zaiporo and Iniru took the rest. The massive rooms were even more luxurious than those in the Forbidden Library. Everything was plush, padded, gilded and ornate, yet not overwhelmingly so. A copper tub with a spigot was set into the floor in the far right corner of his room. A double-sized, extra-plush sleeping mat took up the near right corner.

  Between the sleeping platform and the tub was a writing desk with ink, paper and brushes neatly arranged in boxes along the back edge. An armoire, which currently held a single dressing gown, took up a large section of the opposite wall. The rest of that wall was covered by shelves large enough to hold books, shoes, gear, weapons…almost anything.

  The back wall consisted of a silk-paneled door, in his case adorned with lilies, that slid open to a small patio shielded from its neighbors by a bamboo fence to each side. The patios opened onto gardens as lush as those in the Courtyard. These gardens filled the space between their rooms and a high stone wall. The wall was curved, so Turesobei guessed the entire realm was circular.

  They took their gear to their rooms. Turesobei sorted out what he had left onto his shelves, placing the cold weather gear on the far end. There wasn’t much left from what he’d originally set out with a world and what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was so impossibly far from home. Awasa was warped into who knew what. Kurine might be irreparably damaged. The reitsu had murdered Narbenu and Kemsu as he foolishly pushed on to reach the Nexus. And now, if he wasn’t careful, the price would be far higher. Hundreds, thousands…maybe millions could die if the Blood King escaped. All Okoro could burn. Yet the alternative—his friends suffering eternally—was also unacceptable…for now, anyway.

  Turesobei took off his overboots, his coat and his second shirt. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them on the shelf. He could barely think. He could barely breathe. He started shaking all over and breathed in rapid, shallow breaths.

  Zap! An electric spark stung his arm.

  “Ow!” Turesobei leapt up and spun around to face Lu Bei. “What’d you do that for?”

  The fetch hovered up face-to-face with him. “To snap you out of your panic attack.”

  “Maybe I just need to—”

  “Have a meltdown?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Sorry, but you can’t. Lady Shoma needs you. Zaiporo needs you. Even Iniru needs you right now. Like it or not, you’re the leader of this little band of outlaws. You have to be strong for everyone. Cry yourself to sleep if you want. But for now, suck it up.”

  Turesobei nodded, wiped his face and took deep breaths to compose himself. “Did I make a mistake bringing us here?”

  Lu Bei shrugged. “In the grand scheme of things, we don’t know enough to answer that question. Early on, it seemed a mistake to go to the Lair of the Deadly Twelve, but by doing so you saved the Chonda Clan. Have hope, master. I hear the others in the back garden. Let’s join them.”

  Turesobei slid his back door open. The patio had cushions and a small table for tea. He stepped past those and walked out to join the others gathered near the far wall.

  “Lu Bei!” Enashoma said. “We’ve been wondering what was on the other side of the outer wall. Iniru was going to jump up to the top, but the gardener said it was a bad idea.”

  The gardener was trimming roses not far away.

  Lu Bei flew up high and peeked over the wall. His eyes widened and he fluttered back down. “It’s just more sky, exactly like what’s above us. It’s like we’re on an island floating in a sea of sky.”

  “Only it’s not a real sky, is it?” Zaiporo asked.

  “As real as the sun above us or this breeze,” Turesobei said.

  The constant breeze was just strong enough to lightly sound the chimes that hung from the rafters overhanging their patios.

  “Everything here is only as real as it needs to be,” Lu Bei said. “He constructed this place from…I’m not sure what, actually. But this isn’t a realm copied from another world.”

  “You recognized him,” Turesobei blurted out suddenly. “Or his nine kavaru anyway.” The thought had been hovering in his mind for so long that he wasn’t able to contain it any longer.

  “From long ago, master. It’s ancient history, from long before there was a Blood King. Not useful for us now, I’m afraid. If I could speak the names of those nine Kaiaru, that might prove useful. But I can’t.”

  “Chonda Lu knew the information the Blood King wants?”

  “He did, master. And he chose to forget. For good reasons, I’m sure.”

  “And you don’t have a record of that…”

  “Correct. And the Blood King knows I don’t. Otherwise he would have stripped my pages to find it.”

  “And Motekeru killed some of them?”

  Lu Bei shrugged. “Motekeru has killed a lot of people.”

  The fetch was being noticeably dodgy. Turesobei didn’t press the issue, since the Blood King might be listening. If the info was useful, and he suspected it actually was, he’d need to hear it in private…somehow.

  “Can we go to the Dining Hall anytime?” Zaiporo asked.

  Turesobei shrugged. “Hannya didn’t mention meal times, and I have no idea what time it is here anyway.”

  “I hope it’s not going to be noon all the time,” Enashoma said. “Not sure I can handle that.”

  “I don’t mind,” Iniru said absent-mindedly. “The light is…” She shrugged and didn’t say anything else.

  Turesobei frowned. He hoped some food and rest would help her recover from her death experience.

  “I noticed pull cords for summoning the servants to our rooms,” Enashoma said. “I bet we could use those to request food.”

  Zaiporo cringed. “I was hoping I’d never have to see one of those again. Awasa used to ring me awake every time she saw a spider or a strange shadow outside her window, which was nearly every night. Poor old Marumi had to wake up and escort me in. Then Awasa would berate us for….” His voice trailed off as he stared back toward the building, frowning.

  Enashoma took his hand. “What is it?”

  “I think she was just lonely. She was so annoying and mean that I never realized it.”

  “She didn’t have any friends,” Enashoma said. “And her family was terrible.”

  “You got that right!” Zaiporo said. “They were bad enough to me, but they were even worse to their own daughter. Her father ignored her. And her mother was always telling her how to act, how to talk, what to say, who to say it to.”

  “What about those girls that were always following her around?” Turesobei asked.

  “Oh, they hated her,” Zaiporo said.

  “Their parents told them they had to be friends with her to earn favor,” Enashoma said. “I avoided her except when Mom made me visit her.”

  “Well, now she’s the shadow and the spider,” Zaiporo said. “And I’m honestly afraid of her.”

  “Maybe the Blood King can fix her,” Turesobei said.

  “Even if he does,” Iniru said, “she won’t be the same. She’ll carry the scars of this forever.” She fell silent and stared absently at the high wall pinning them in. Her hand drifted up to touch her scarred belly.

  Chapter Eleven

  A servant met them outside the Dining Hall and escorted them in. They knelt at the table closest to the door. An array of spoons and bowls of various sizes lay spread before them. While that servant poured them bowls of water, two more brought out wine and kettles of hot tea.

  “Do we need to order our food?” Turesobei asked.

  The servants left without answering.

  Lu Bei tasted the tea and made a satisfactory nod. “It’s a simple blend…black with hints of cinnamon. The ingredients, however, are of the finest quality. I approve.”

  To Turesobei, it was an excellent black tea. He wasn’t even a fraction of the tea connoisseur that Lu Bei was. But he wasn’t an expert on anything not directly related to wizardry, except for
the history of the clan, and most of their knowledge only covered the four centuries since Chonda Lu’s death. A fire two centuries ago had wiped out their oldest records.

  After a spate of half-hearted chitchat and several emptied teakettles, the servants brought out platters of food: steamed tuna, fried squid, rice cakes dripping with honey, bowls of jasmine rice, heaping dishes of vegetables, stuffed mushrooms, spiced garlic bread and more. He hadn’t eaten this well with so much variety since the Midsummer Feast in Ekaran. He was stuffed full when the servants brought out bowls of cream and berries. He couldn’t resist having some, though. This was the finest food he’d ever tasted.

  Eyes drooping, he stifled a yawn. The food and wine had left him drowsy. If only he could go to sleep, but they still had Awasa to deal with.

  “So what’s the plan?” Enashoma asked.

  Zaiporo yawned. “Turesobei’s going to cast a location spell to find her.”

  “I didn’t mean for Awasa,” Enashoma said. “I meant for this whole situation we’re in.”

  “We rest first,” Turesobei said. “While we have the chance, that’s what we should do. Then while I’m studying, you…you should all learn whatever you can. Check the books in the Library. Exercise and practice your skills. Niru, could you work with the others on improving their combat techniques?”

  She flinched. “What? Oh, yeah, of course I can.”

  “Teach Shoma how to really fight and help Zaiporo improve. I’m sure you know a few tricks he doesn’t.”

  “I’d say a lot of tricks,” Zaiporo said.

  “That’s great and all,” Enashoma said, “but how does us learning to fight better help?”

  “It doesn’t help against the Blood King,” Lu Bei said. “But if we get past him, what comes next? Peaceful times? There’s another realm between us and home. And we’ll have to take the Spring or Autumn Gate to get there. We don’t know anything about those realms and we don’t know what part of Okoro they would drop us into. Although it would almost certainly somewhere remote.”

  Enashoma sighed. “Everything feels so pointless right now.”

  “We’ll need something to do, though,” Zaiporo said. “Once we’ve rested, we’re bound to get bored.”

  “I think I could rest a whole year,” Enashoma said. She’d led a less active life than the rest of them had.

  “I doubt it,” Lu Bei said. “You’ve gotten used to adventuring now. You’ll be craving excitement. It’s in your blood. You’re too much like Master Turesobei and your father.” Their father, Noboro, had been a treasure hunter. “And the Blood King did mention that some, or maybe all, of you would have to help with master.”

  Turesobei stood. “I guess I should cast my locating spell now. Might be a bit tricky given her altered nature, but nothing I can’t manage.”

  “No need for that,” Iniru said. “I have a good idea where she’ll be, and we won’t have to go far.”

  They retrieved their weapons and Enashoma switched places with Motekeru so he could help with Awasa. Turesobei ordered the hounds to stay with Enashoma, in case Awasa showed up there while they were away.

  Iniru led them to a small door not far from the Dining Hall. “Based on what I hear and smell, this leads to the kitchen.”

  “So?” Zaiporo asked.

  “So she’s going to be just as hungry as we were, and where else would she go to steal food?”

  Turesobei handed Fangthorn to Iniru and she strapped it to her back using a makeshift harness. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need weapons. Hopefully, the Blood King’s spell had made Awasa better.

  “What if she’s not here yet?” Zaiporo asked.

  “Then we can set a trap and wait,” Iniru said. “Or Turesobei can cast his spell.”

  Turesobei prepared a stunning spell and held it in mind. He eased open the door. The Kitchen was enormous and brightly lit. A wave of heat from the ovens hit them. A dozen servants worked throughout the room: cleaning dishes, chopping vegetables, baking bread and cooking rice. The servants paid them no attention. If Awasa was in here, they either didn’t know or didn’t care.

  Leading the way, Iniru crept into the room. Turesobei followed right behind her.

  Iniru glanced up and to her right. A shadow launched from atop a pile of crates stacked high beside the door. The shadow tackled Iniru, leapt off her and rolled up onto its feet. It was Awasa. And now she was wielding Fangthorn. Somehow while tackling Iniru, she’d managed to wrest the blade from Iniru’s back. It was the impressive sort of move that normally only Iniru could pull off.

  His hope of the restoring mists having fixed her vanished. The purple in her eyes, the protruding veins, the eight-pointed star, the fangs, the look of hatred on her face—it was all still there. If anything had changed, it wasn’t obvious.

  She snarled as Iniru circled her. Turesobei, Motekeru and Zaiporo entered the Kitchen and Awasa backed into the corner. She pointed the sword at them.

  “You will not take me prisoner again. You will pay for…”

  A halo of purple flame shot down Fangthorn’s blade.

  She stumbled. “You will…pay…for….”

  The runes on the sword glowed dimly.

  She staggered back into the wall. The sword point lowered.

  Iniru and Motekeru closed in. Lu Bei circled overhead.

  The star on Awasa’s forehead faded, and a bruise-colored glimmer appeared on the pommel in the empty space Hannya’s ruby kavaru had long inhabited, like a ghostly amethyst kavaru. Her veins lightened and her eyes faded from rich purple to violet.

  Lu Bei plunged downward. He was going to take her out with a dive like he’d done before.

  “Wait,” Turesobei said.

  Lu Bei beats his wings hard and pulled up. He missed Awasa by only a foot and soared across the other side of the kitchen. Awasa never even noticed him. The fetch shot Turesobei a nasty look. Iniru and Motekeru paused.

  Turesobei stepped forward. “Awasa?”

  “Turesobei?” she whispered. “What…what’s happening?” She looked down at her muscled frame barely covered in tattered clothes. “What—what’s happened to me?”

  Apparently, the sword was drawing the Warlock from her like it had drawn the orugukagi venom out of Kurine, only without wounding her. Turesobei eased forward with his hands spread out. He held onto the stunning spell, just in case.

  “It’s too much to explain right now, but you’re going to be okay.”

  As he neared, her eyes flared and she brandished the blade. “Get away or I will kill you…my love. I will….”

  Awasa’s eyes went out of focus and she collapsed.

  “Motekeru, let’s put her in one of the rooms,” Turesobei said.

  Awasa’s hand remained curled around the hilt of the blade. “Make sure the blade keeps touching her.” He sighed. “I know we just got free of them for a little while, but—”

  “You have to consult Hannya and the Blood King,” Lu Bei said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Turesobei took Fangthorn, then Motekeru laid Awasa on the sleeping mat in a room appropriately decorated in patterns of tangled roses. She was still unconscious. Enashoma straightened her out and placed a pillow under her head to make her comfortable. Turesobei set Fangthorn on her chest, wrapped her hands around the handle and stepped back. Her features had softened a little more. There was hope.

  The Blood King swept into the room. Hannya followed behind him. She spotted the sword and a worried frown creased her face. The Blood King hovered over Awasa, closed his emerald eyes and chanted.

  When he was done, he grunted. “Fascinating.”

  “Will she return to normal?” Turesobei asked.

  “I think the blade has done all it can do,” the Blood King said.

  “Maybe Lady Hannya could stab her and draw the corruption out like with she did with Kurine and the orugukagi venom,” Turesobei said. “If the sword could imprison Lady Hannya, then surely it could handle a portion of Barakaros the Warlock.


  “This is not a poison one can draw out. Had you gotten the sword into her hands within the first week, or if you had stabbed her with it inside of a month while reciting the spell, then maybe. But too much time has passed, and your Awasa has been altered at a fundamental level. Before he died, Barakaros tried to channel himself into her, to use her as a vessel.”

  “A loophole to get out the bargain that would require him to die,” Lu Bei said. “His original form would die but he would live on in Awasa.”

  The Blood King nodded. “Instincts, ingrained physical skills and emotions transfer first, so much of your Awasa was replaced. But Barakaros died before he could complete the transfer, so his memories and intellectual skills never made it across. So a new person was born, a melding of the two. The larger portion of Ninefold Awasa’s psyche was that of Barakaros, but with Fangthorn, and perhaps because of my renewal spell, more of her psyche belongs to your Awasa. It is still a melding, though, and the corruption will never leave her.”

  Turesobei sighed. “So the old Awasa is lost forever.”

  “I am sorry,” the Blood King said. “However, given time this new Awasa could become more like the old one, or a new individual of her own making. And it is not all for loss. This Awasa has power. Not as much as a Kaiaru, but more than some wizards.”

  “How exactly is the sword is helping?” Turesobei asked.

  “Hannya’s departure after so many years has left a vacuum within the blade, and that is reflexively drawing Barakaros’ power out while she remains in contact with it.” The Blood King picked up Fangthorn and handed it to Iniru. “Take this sword across the Courtyard. Wait a few minutes then come back.”

  By the time Iniru would have reached the other side, the faint star on Awasa’s forehead had darkened. Her breathing picked up and she stirred. Iniru returned and set the blade in Awasa’s hands. The star faded.

  “As I feared,” the Blood King said. “For her to be whatever she is now and not revert to Ninefold Awasa, she can never part with this sword again. It does not have to be touching her, but it must always be nearby.”