The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

  “Is she going to be okay?” Enashoma asked. “Physically, I mean.”

  The Blood King nodded. “Fatigue and the shock of the transition simply overwhelmed her. How much of her old personality will return, I cannot say. Remind her of who she was. That might help. I will put a sleep spell on her. Three days should provide plenty of rest and aid any further transitions that might occur.”

  The Blood King cast a sleep spell and departed. Hannya hesitated a few moments and stared at Awasa with a strange expression. Then she left as well.

  “Having Fangthorn on you all the time seems a small price to pay for one’s sanity,” Lu Bei said.

  “We’ll just have to remind her of who she was and hope for the best,” Turesobei said.

  “I could do without the spoiled brat part,” Zaiporo said.

  Enashoma nodded along with him.

  Motekeru shook his head. “If she doesn’t remember, you must help her recall the good and the bad. That’s who she was.”

  “That make sense,” Turesobei said.

  “Do you want me to stay here and guard her in case she wakes, master?” Motekeru asked.

  “Stay with Kurine while we get some sleep,” Turesobei said. “Starting tomorrow you can guard Awasa. I’ll leave the hounds in here until then. They will alert us if she wakes prematurely.”

  “It’s turning dark outside,” Iniru said, her voice faint and disappointed.

  She was right. The light was steadily dimming. They went outside and discovered the orb wasn’t setting. It was merely fading from orange and sun-like into a pale moon.

  Lu Bei yawned. “No better time for sleep than now.” The fetch didn’t have to sleep unless he was injured, but he seemed to enjoy it sometimes.

  They shuffled off to their rooms. New clothes awaited them. Not suitable daytime outfits but nightclothes: soft silk pants and shirts. Turesobei turned on the spigot and his bathtub filled with steaming water. He slipped in with a sigh.

  A tear rolled down his cheek. “This day….”

  Lu Bei sat on the edge and dipped his toes in. “It’s going to take a while for you to process all of this, master. The week the Blood King gave you to rest, it won’t be enough. But you’ll pull through. You always do.”

  “What if I don’t this time?”

  Lu Bei shrugged. “Then you don’t. All things come to an end, master. Make the journey worthwhile and meet your end bravely. That is all any of us can do.”

  Turesobei finished washing up then soaked until he relaxed enough to be sleepy instead of just bone-weary tired. He stretched then laid Sumada beside the sleeping mat. He put on the pants and crawled under the single thin blanket. Lu Bei turned out the lanterns, crawled onto a high shelf and transformed into a book.

  Turesobei closed his eyes and started to drift off….

  Soft footfalls outside woke him. A shadow eased back the sliding door that led outside and crept into his room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Turesobei reached for Sumada and prepared a casting of the spell of the fire globe. If he threw it in front of the intruder’s face, it would blind them for a few moments.

  As soon as he gripped the sword’s handle, a voice whispered, “It’s just me, idiot.”

  Turesobei sat up for a better look. Moonlight silhouetted a slender but muscled frame. Iniru. Of course.

  Lu Bei, who was always recording, would’ve known if there was an intruder that posed a threat and would’ve woken up. And Awasa was the only one who might try to sneak in and kill him, but she was under the sleep spell.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed as she padded barefoot across the room. “And mind your business, fetch.”

  “Don’t record, Lu Bei,” Turesobei whispered.

  Iniru knelt at the edge of the sleeping mat. She had new nightclothes as well, only her shirt was sleeveless and only came down to the bottom of her ribcage, exposing her midriff. As he looked more closely, he realized hers had been designed the same as his; she’d just used a knife to modify it.

  “Is it okay if I sleep here with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Of…of course. Though if you need to talk about…stuff…you might be better off going to Shoma’s room.”

  Iniru sighed wearily. “I’m not in the mood for you to be stupid.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What do you say if a pretty girl asks, ‘Can I stay here the night?’”

  “I say no. Unless it’s you.”

  She chuckled, leaned in and gave him a big kiss. “You’re learning. At this rate, you’re bound to stop getting engaged in the next year or two.”

  “I’ll try, but apparently it’s hard not to.”

  He reached for the now-tattered ribbon he used to keep his hair tied in a queue. The ribbon was a gray-green, and it used to match his robes and travel clothes, but those were long gone.

  “Leave, it,” she said. “I haven’t seen your hair untied in ages. Unless you count the times when you’ve been laid up injured.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. “It’s gotten long.”

  His hair used to fall to his shoulder blades, but now it reached his lower back. Adventuring and fighting had taught him that even that was too much. Baojendari fashion didn’t matter to him anymore.

  “I’m thinking I should cut it short. This is too long.”

  “Nah, I like your length.”

  She climbed under the blanket. He could barely make out her features, but he thought he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight. “Will you hold me?”

  He wanted nothing more. He crawled onto the sleeping mat behind her. She snuggled up to him and he wrapped his right arm across her ribs. Her musky scent filled his nostrils. His chest went warm and tingly inside. Her body wasn’t soft against him like he’d expected, though. It was tense like a coiled spring. He dug his fingertips through the soft fur on her belly. She interlaced her fingers with his. Even after a few minutes, she was still tense.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shrugged in his arms. “I’m alright.”

  “That means no.”

  “What? How would you know?”

  “When Shoma was little, she would sneak into my room whenever she was upset and cuddle up with me. If I asked if she was okay, she’d reply with a soft, ‘I’m alright’ like you just did.”

  “How cute.”

  “Shut up. So is it…is it because you died?”

  He felt her nod. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be alive. I feel…like I don’t belong…like death was real and this is a dream.”

  “You’ll be okay after you get some rest.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. The worst stuff happens to you…battling ancient evils…turning into dragons…but you keep going.”

  He decided not to mention his breakdown earlier or that he was certain they were doomed, because there was no way he could luck his way past the Blood King.

  “I’ve never died, though.”

  “I guess not,” she said. “Sobei, I’m not as strong as you think I am.”

  He knew it was hard for her to admit weakness. “Do you remember being dead? Did you experience anything?”

  “I was in the Shadowland. And Hannya’s right. The dead go far deeper than we went during our escape from the Forbidden Library. I saw things there. Terrible things and…” she sobbed, “…I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t remember how I had died, but I remembered fighting the Blood King. I wanted to come back, not because I was needed, but because I was so afraid of the Shadowland. I didn’t know what would happen to me there because…because Paradise didn’t call to me.”

  “Torment?” he asked, though he couldn’t believe that was possible.

  She shook her head. “Nothing called to me. So I guess I would’ve been trapped there until I found Oblivion or it found me, right?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “I saw de
mons and I saw…I saw someone filled with the most incredible and terrifying passion, battling demons to return to the one they loved.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Their love was so strong it scared me. Can you imagine that?”

  “I don’t see how love could ever be frightening.”

  “You’d understand if you had seen this person.” She turned to look at him. “But then maybe you’re capable of something I’m not. I should be strong enough to fight death itself to get back to you. But I’m not. Apparently I don’t have that much passion.”

  Turesobei frowned. Iniru was more than rattled. “You can’t trust anything you see in the Shadowland,” he said. “And fighting death itself is pointless, no matter who you’re fighting for. You were probably smart enough to realize that. And I have no doubt about the strength of your love.”

  “You’re sweet,” she said distantly.

  She didn’t believe him. “You’re alive now. That’s all that matters.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to be alive. It’s just that place and what I saw…I can’t get it out of my mind. I can’t shake the fear.”

  Turesobei leaned up on his left elbow and stroked her brow. “Even a short journey into the Shadowland’s lowest layer is intense. I was twelve the first time I went there. Grandfather Kahenan took me into the first layer. He had spent weeks preparing me for what I’d face. It was still terrifying. When we came out, my dad was there waiting for us with tea and cookies. It was the first time I’d seen him in almost a year. Grandfather Kahenan had timed the distraction perfectly.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Mostly, until my dad left three days later. After that I had nightmares for weeks.”

  “How long were you in the Shadowland?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “Oh. That’s less time than we spent there when we fled the Forbidden Library.”

  “Over the next three years, we worked up to an hour and it did get easier. Then, before my fifteenth birthday, we went to the second layer. The call of death was much stronger there, and I was terrified all over again.”

  “When I died, what level do you think I went to?”

  “Eight is as deep as the living can go, according to the Book of the Illicit Amethyst, and Hannya told me it was accurate before she went nuts on us. The Ninth Level hosts Paradise and Torment. No human wizard can venture past the Third Level except through astral projection, and few are powerful enough for that. I’m sure Kaiaru can go farther, but I have no idea how far.”

  “And you were rattled after going to the second level?”

  “I was only there for a few minutes and I had nightmares for a month. I could barely eat or sleep for a week. Niru, it’s going to take time, but you will get over this. I promise.”

  She was silent for a while and he let her gather her thoughts. “Sobei, what would happen to someone who came back, after they had been trapped in the Shadowland for days…weeks, maybe?”

  “I can’t imagine such a person would be sane, not for a while at least. And I doubt they’d ever really be the same again.” Why had she asked that? Who could be stuck in the—oh. “By someone, do you mean Kurine?”

  She nodded.

  “Kurine was asleep in stasis, oblivious to her surroundings, neither dead nor alive. She wasn’t in the Shadowland. I’m sure of it.”

  Iniru fell silent. She remained a coiled spring in his arms. He waited patiently. If she didn’t want to talk anymore, he wouldn’t press her.

  As he drifted off into sleep, she spoke again. He flinched awake. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “What the Blood King said about the Sacred Codex…do you think he was lying?”

  “I don’t know. If the book didn’t work, your people wouldn’t follow it, would they?”

  “Your people don’t follow Notasami’s teachings. The zaboko don’t. Even most k’chasans don’t. And there’s a good reason for that.”

  “Because it’s difficult?”

  “Well, yes. But it’s more than that. It’s because they can’t see the results. The Sacred Codex promises a golden future, but when will we ever see it? And what about making life better here and now? We rarely get to see how our actions are bringing about a greater future. Sometimes it’s obvious, like when my brothers destroyed a religious cult that was terrorizing a score of villages. But too often we don’t have a clue what we’re trying to achieve. We just take it on faith that we’re doing the right thing.”

  “You know it’s accurate, though. The book brought us together…twice.”

  “That sort of stuff always pans out. Meet a boy on a bridge in the rainforest and help him on his quest, for instance. It’s the why and to what end that I have a problem with. And don’t forget that the second time it brought us together, it had ordered me to kill an innocent child.”

  “What you did triggered me coming for you and that helped us save the world. So maybe the Sacred Codex meant for you to fail. That's possible, right?”

  “I don’t see how. You must complete the mission to the letter or receive a black strike for having rejected the mission. Failing is a red strike and it happens. A black strike carries disgrace. Two black strikes and you’re no longer a qengai.” Iniru sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. If we ever get back, I’m quitting. I’m not going to steal and spy, and I’m especially not going to kill because a book told me to, all for some long-promised golden age. I saw the future of our world in the Ancient Cold and Deep. There was no golden age.”

  “That was a possible future. And there could’ve been a golden age before the sun faded. That place is fifteen thousand years ahead of us.”

  “Maybe, but look at the Keepers. Their strategy is not so different from that of Notasami’s. Yet with all that power, did they seem any closer to the future they wanted?”

  “No. And the Keeper of Destiny….” He had never meant to tell her this, but given her current thoughts he didn’t think it was fair to keep it from her. “He basically said the same thing about the Sacred Codex. Not that it wasn’t true, but that it was childish. But like you said, given their failure to build their own golden age, I don’t know that I would consider him an expert.”

  “See, it’s not worth it. I died and wasn’t called to Paradise. If I lead the life of a qengai, I will have to do terrible, unspeakable things, again and again. I will become hard and uncaring like my relatives. And then when I die—again—and return to the Shadowland, where will I go? What if I’m called to Torment? I had a taste of what that might be like today.”

  She shuddered and so did he. He had been trying hard not to think about the torture.

  “You know I’ll support any decision you make.”

  “What would you do if you were me? Be honest.”

  “I…I can’t really say. I wasn’t raised to be a qengai.”

  “That’s why I’m asking you.”

  Because her first mission had been to rescue him, he often forgot that Iniru had trained to be an assassin, as well as a thief and a spy. And since she hadn’t been able to kill the Winter Child, it was doubly hard to imagine her assassinating anyone. In fact, he felt certain she couldn’t.

  “I wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever I must to protect my family and my people, no matter how much I detest the idea of fighting and killing. But I could never do what a qengai is asked to do.”

  She rolled over and stared into his eyes. “That’s because you’re a good person.” She kissed him briefly on the lips then rolled back over.

  “Niru, if we get home without releasing the Blood King, I think we’ll have done more than enough to make the world a better place. We could retire and be proud of what we accomplished.”

  “Silly, your great destiny hasn’t even begun, remember? You’ll never get to retire.”

  He groaned. “Then I’m going to need you to stick by me. You can stop being an assassin and become my—”

  “Bodyguard?”

  “I was going to say champion.”

 
She murmured a grunt of contentment and snuggled in close, finally relaxed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Iniru was gone when Turesobei woke up. He took another long bath, steeping himself to perfection like a good cup of tea, as Lu Bei would put it. He dodged the fetch’s questions about Iniru’s visit, though he was tempted to ask Lu Bei’s opinion of the Sacred Codex. But he had a feeling he knew what the fetch thought about it already. It was probably one of the reasons Lu Bei hadn’t liked Iniru when they met.

  A servant brought Turesobei four sets of clothing. Clearly, the servants had been up all night sewing. Unless the clothes had been magically created, which wouldn’t be surprising. After all, where did the cloth and materials come from? Surely the Blood King didn’t have a massive storage of materials put aside for any occasion. A better question was, how had they known his measurements?

  The first two outfits matched the ones he wore at home. The pants and shirts were made of linen. One pair of pants was black, the other gray. One shirt was white, the other cream. The new ribbons for his hair matched the shirts. One of his outer robes was a deep burgundy, like Zangaiden red wine, and the other was a pale green. He also had new sandals and a new belt to match. He tried them on. They fit perfectly and the fabric was beyond compare. He had never worn anything so comfortable before.

  The other two outfits, intended for traveling and fighting, were tight-fitting and made of a thick cotton weave with patches reinforcing the fabric at the knees and elbows and along the hems. The outer robes that went with these were short, falling just short of the knees, and made of several layers of fabric. They were also loose, because they were designed to fit over light armor. One adventuring outfit was black and gray, and the other was burgundy and cream.

  They also brought him new thigh, shin and arm guards made of lacquered leather, along with reinforced boots. The new pieces matched his demon-warded breastplate, which was in desperate need of cleaning and repair.

  Turesobei put on the burgundy and cream outfit and joined the others for a long but quiet lunch. After that, he checked on Awasa and then sat with Kurine until dinner. And again afterward, until midnight. It was only fair. Kurine had sat with him all through the night when he was recovering from his injuries. For the next week, he planned on spending most of his waking time by her side, meditating.