The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

  He was sick of these exercises. They weren’t improving his stamina.

  Fire kenja eddied around Awasa, diverted by the mudras she held. Though she appeared calm, her internal kenja was a roiling, confused mess. He focused on these strange fluctuations in her energy field…then noticed something odd. A tiny stream of fire kenja danced along Fangthorn’s dark-steel blade. That stream was a burgundy color instead of crimson. All the other fire energy in the room, all the fire energy he’d ever seen, was crimson. Turesobei had never before observed such a phenomenon.

  His fire globe burned dimmer and dimmer, but he didn’t care. Using the mudra of concentration, he maximized his focus on the burgundy stream. The Fangthorn-kissed fire kenja entered the nearest column of flames, and on the other side, a minuscule stream of pink kenja trailed out. The column had used part of the burgundy kenja and released the rest. The pink current wound its way between the columns, meandered out into what he had thought was an energy vacuum around him, then spiraled into his fire globe. A thorough scan revealed a web of pink threads feeding into the fire globe. Aside from his internal kenja, those silk-thin strands were all that kept his spell going. But they were far from enough on their own.

  Each type of kenja was more than just a color. It was a smell, a taste, a number and a clear musical note. Synesthesia Grandfather Kahenan had called it, a talent of the senses that only wizards and Kaiaru possessed. Forest kenja was deep emerald, the number five, the third string on a zither played open and the smell and taste of pine branches stripped by a storm. “Where sight and sound fail, taste and smell will lead you true,” Kahenan had often said.

  He trailed a finger through the mysterious pink kenja then touched his fingertip to his tongue. He studied the taste of the pink energy until he deciphered a hint of cinnamon, thought of the number twelve and heard a deep resonant note from out of nowhere. The taste, the texture, the notes…it was similar to the fire kenja from which it had originated.

  He examined the flaming columns carefully and caught a few glimpses of a crimson shade interweaving with the burgundy color. He guessed the columns were only designed to use those two variations of fire kenja. While the third type wasn’t essential, it could be substituted in a pinch. But that wasn’t a problem here, where the other two types of fire kenja were plentiful. If the columns had to use that third type, they would be highly inefficient and would probably need a lot of it to compensate. His fire globe was like the columns. It was keyed to use the same two shades.

  His eyes ached and his vision swam. He lost sight of the burgundy and pink trails and couldn't find them again. He dropped the fire globe.

  “That was a pathetic effort,” the violet-eyed Blood King snarled. “Or have you decided to be insubordinate to impress one of your lovers?”

  “Wait, don’t dismiss the columns. I want to summon the fire globe again.”

  The Blood King raised an eyebrow and allowed him to continue.

  As he summoned a new fire globe, he harmonized the casting with the qualities he'd detected in the pink kenja. With a more complex spell, he would never have had a chance at altering the energy requirements, but with one this simple it just might work.

  This time, the pink energy streams didn’t get caught up in the fire columns and lazily swirl toward him. Instead they rushed straight into his fire globe.

  With his now efficient fire globe burning bright, he turned to the Blood King. “I can hold this spell all day.”

  The Blood King’s eyes shifted to emerald as he smiled. “And why is that?”

  Turesobei explained his discovery. “But I don’t understand why a simple fire globe would be made without taking advantage of all three subtypes of fire kenja.”

  “Because it was inefficiently designed or accidentally corrupted by a human wizard. Humans can only see the basic structure of energy. It is like hearing chords played on a zither without being able to ever distinguish the individual notes. Even if humans knew Kaiaru could see more, it would do them no good.”

  “And I can only detect the notes because of my special connection to Chonda Lu?”

  The Blood King nodded. “You can learn to see what a Kaiaru sees naturally. And now you can optimize your spells and learn how to make adjustments based on your location.”

  “Was that the point of these repeated tests?”

  “In a normal environment with so many types of kenja swirling around, you never would have noticed the subtypes. But in the Workshop I can control the flows, so I set up everything so that you could learn this.”

  “You could have told me the actual point of the tests.”

  “It is not a teacher’s responsibility to explain everything, but to give you techniques and opportunities so that you may teach yourself. This will always lead to better understanding, especially with high-level magical skills. I have taught thousands of students over the millennia. I know what I am doing.”

  “Lu Bei, why didn’t you tell me about the kenja subtypes?”

  Lu Bei turned into a fetch and bowed. “I do apologize, master, but I assumed you couldn’t see them since you’re not Kaiaru. And I don't think I could have shown you how to see them anyway, given that I can’t see them myself.”

  Turesobei turned to the Blood King. “So what now?”

  “Later, you will work on identifying the three elements that make up each type of kenja you are familiar with. After you have mastered your dragon. Now it is time for you to become the dragon again. The girl will stay in the room as before. I, however, will not.”

  The Blood King started up the steps. “Try not to kill her.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “This is hopeless.” Turesobei sighed. “If I turn into the dragon, I’ll lose control and I won’t be able to stop it.”

  “There has to be another way,” Awasa said. “Why else would he keep making you try?”

  “To torture me.”

  “He only does that when he’s angry. Just try something different this time.”

  “Like what? I’ve tried everything.”

  Awasa chewed at her lip as she paced in a circle around him. “Okay, so the ultimate point is not for you to control the dragon when you take its form, but for you to project it outward?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “And you’ve tried that?”

  “Of course. But nothing happens. Probably because I haven’t overcome my fear or learned well enough that the dragon isn’t part of me. Or because the only method I know of for projecting it outward is to think about it real hard.”

  Awasa touched the Mark of the Storm Dragon. “I think I have an idea.”

  “He’s all ears,” Lu Bei said. “Except for his nose and his eyes and his lips and…well, he has two ears anyway.”

  Awasa’s veins darkened, her jaw tightened. “You are such a pain.”

  “I do my best,” Lu Bei said.

  Turesobei touched her hand. “Your idea?”

  Awasa took a deep breath and her demeanor softened. “Right.” She stepped back and drew Fangthorn. “While you try your best to project the dragon outward, I will use Fangthorn like a magnet, along with the mudra of kenja gathering, to pull the dragon toward me.”

  “Master, if she pulls and you push…that might just work.”

  “Maybe. But she’d have to key the mudra to the storm dragon’s signature. Do you know how to do that yet?”

  “No. But I think I can manage.”

  “I don’t think instinct will be enough,” Turesobei said.

  Lu Bei shrugged. “The blade did hold a dragon for thousands of years. You can’t discount that much resonance.”

  Turesobei frowned. “Even so, I still don’t see how it could work. I haven’t been able to project the dragon a single inch out from me.”

  “You don’t think I have the strength to draw it out?” Awasa asked.

  He shook his head. “As long as I’m unable to separate the dragon’s essence from mine, I don’t think anything we try has a c
hance of succeeding.”

  “Ooh! Ooh!” Lu Bei flew a pirouette. “Master, the teleportation spell!”

  “What about it?” Turesobei asked.

  “You may not remember this clearly, but when you teleported into the Wraithspace, the Storm Dragon separated from you by accident. It didn’t become a part of you again until you returned to the Nexus.”

  The details of his time in the Wraithspace were more than hazy, but he remembered enough to get Lu Bei’s point. “I can’t risk teleporting there.”

  “You could use the principles of the spell. After all, you have experienced the dragon being separated from you once already.”

  Turesobei tapped at his chin. “I can try to conjure that feeling from my first teleport…imagine I’m Chonda Lu…use the spell of locating that which is hidden and key it to the Storm Dragon…then envision it located outside of myself, as if I had teleported the dragon a short distance away. With Awasa pulling at the dragon…it might just work.”

  “If it does, master, you’re going to have to compel the dragon to obedience immediately, or it will kill you both.”

  He’d forgotten all about that. He turned to Awasa. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I have faith in you. Besides, you don’t really have a choice, do you? And hey, if the dragon kills me, then maybe when the Blood King resurrects me I’ll be rid of the Warlock.”

  Lu Bei shook his head. “Not necessarily. You could end up worse.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  Turesobei gave her a kiss on the cheek for luck and she blushed violet. “Let’s do this.”

  Awasa closed her eyes and meditated a few moments. Then she surged forward and raked one of her claw-like fingernails across the storm mark.

  Turesobei raised his hands into a defensive posture. “Ow!”

  Lu Bei darted in between them. “Watch it, missy!”

  “Sorry.” Calmly, she dripped Turesobei’s blood onto Fangthorn. “I didn’t know any other way to key the dragon’s signature to my mudra and the blade.”

  “The storm energy’s inside me.” Using his sleeve, he wiped blood from his cheek. “The symbol is just the connection point, like the valve on our bathtubs.”

  “Lady Hannya says symbols matter and I know firsthand that blood matters.”

  “You could have warned me.”

  “Would you have approved of me using blood magic? Even for something so minor?”

  “Probably not.” He let his irritation slip away. It was just a scratch. And it was a good idea, even if using blood magic posed some risk. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

  Awasa braced herself and lifted Fangthorn. She formed the necessary mudra. His blood flowed down her fingertips. “I’m ready.”

  “Good luck, master. I’ll see you on the other side.” Lu Bei flew up to the top step and turned into a book.

  Turesobei tried to conjure his memories and feelings of the dragon being separate from him in the Wraithspace along with the sensation of teleporting. He imagined he was Chonda Lu attempting this. Then he unleashed the storm energy and channeled it as if he were using it to cast the spell of locating that which is hidden. He focused on imagining the dragon out in front of him.

  One breath…two breaths…three….

  A globe of roiling storm clouds emerged from his chest and stopped a foot away.

  The globe doubled in size. Then tripled. Turesobei stepped back. The globe remained in place. He stepped back again. His focus wavered. The globe surged toward him, closing most of the distance.

  Awasa pointed the sword at the globe then pulled it back, as if she were trying to draw a fish in with a pole. It moved a few inches toward her. They both stepped back. The globe stayed in between them. They stepped back again. And the tiny storm cloud started expanding.

  As the cloud grew, the dragon began to take shape. Without Turesobei as its heart. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He could still see through his own eyes and think his own thoughts. It was working!

  His excitement must have weakened his focus, because the half-formed dragon rolled back over him. The clouds swallowed him and instantly tripled in size. He was losing control. The wings and tail unfurled, lifting him up on his toes.

  “Storm Dragon, I bind thee!” Awasa shouted.

  The storm lurched toward her, pulling him along. Then it recoiled, angered by her attempt to bind it. Awasa knew she couldn’t bind the beast. She was just trying to distract it so he could free himself. It didn’t work. He rose off the ground into the body of the storm. His mind began to merge with the Storm Dragon’s.

  She leapt in and stabbed Fangthorn into the dragon’s snout. The beast roared and showered the room with fiery sparks. With her fingers twisted into a new mudra, Awasa stood firm. The sparks bounced off a hazy shield that now surrounded her.

  Enraged, the dragon locked its eyes on Awasa. Its muscles bunched to attack. But Turesobei still had enough awareness left to realize the danger Awasa was in. He couldn’t let the dragon hurt her. He had to stop it.

  With a surge of willpower, he separated his mind from the dragon’s.

  Then he repeated the procedure from before. He focused on remembering the sensation of teleporting and, using the spell of locating that which is hidden, he shoved the storm energies away from him.

  I’m not the dragon; I’m not the dragon; I’m not the—

  His knees struck the ground and he toppled forward. Before he planted his face, nose first, on the stone floor he caught himself. His body trembled and his mind reeled. The storm sigil on his cheek burned.

  Half-second flashes of the dragon dream assaulted him. One moment, he was the dragon, disoriented but furious nonetheless. The next he lay weak and shaking on the Workshop floor. His human body seemed to be having trouble getting enough air in its lungs while his Dragon form only grew stronger. Its passion was intoxicating.

  Awasa knelt across from him. She caught his fading gaze and refused to let go.

  He focused on her violet eyes. They were the tether anchoring him to himself. She nodded encouragingly. He sucked in a deep breath and fought with everything he had against the dragon dream.

  The physical manifestation of the Storm Dragon snapped free with a crack of thunder. The energy poured out from him. Turesobei looked up and gasped. Hovering above, its sparking baleful eyes glaring down at him, was the Storm Dragon. This was the first time he’d ever seen it as an outsider would. The dragon was beautiful…breathtaking…majestic. Though separate in form, they remained bound one to the other, their souls entwined. Panting, he started to smile.

  The dragon roared. Lightning flashed through its wings and body. A fury of sparks swirled through the Workshop and specks of hail rained down. Turesobei leaned against the gale and threw his hands up to protect his face. He didn’t have the strength to cast a shielding spell. Awasa’s force field held for a few more seconds then sputtered out. That calmed the dragon. The wind, sparks and hail ceased. Bruised and scratched, clothes torn, Turesobei dropped his hands and sighed with relief.

  Awasa wiped blood from a cut on her cheek then froze. With a look of terror on her face, she backed away. Turesobei felt the intent before the beast moved. Now that the Storm Dragon could act however it wanted, its first act as a semi-independent being was to lock its seething rage onto the person who’d twice struck it with a magic sword.

  The dragon spat electric fire at Awasa.

  “Look out!” he yelled.

  She dove aside. The fire branded a four-foot-wide scorch mark onto the far wall instead. Thunder boomed so loudly that Turesobei’s ear drums nearly burst. Turesobei ran toward Awasa, but the dragon’s tail swiped him across the belly and flung him backward. He crashed into the base of the stairs and could only watch as the dragon sped toward Awasa.

  She leapt to her feet, locked one hand into a warding mudra and struck the dragon with Fangthorn. The dragon recoiled away then surged forward and snapped its jaws onto the mudra-forming hand. Bone cracked and
flesh burned. Awasa cried out and slashed with Fangthorn. The sword bit into the dragon. It released her with a roar and then reared up above her.

  Turesobei stood shakily and winced. At least one rib was cracked, maybe several. The skin on his stomach was badly burned.

  The dragon crashed down onto Awasa. Its horns struck her on the forehead. Its claws raked deep into her flesh. Steaming blood spattered the ceiling. Flesh sizzled. The dragon pinned her against the wall. Glowing razor fangs bared, the dragon’s maw plunged toward Awasa’s head.

  Turesobei direct-cast the spell of compelling obedience and stumbled across the room. “Stop!”

  The Storm Dragon’s jaws clamped shut an inch in front of Awasa’s face. The beast flicked its tail of solidified storm at Turesobei. He ducked under the strike. It dug its fiery claws deeper into Awasa’s shoulders. She groaned and spat up blood. Her eyes rolled back and she sagged lifelessly, as limp a rag doll. Resisting the urge to cry out, Turesobei kept his focus on the spell.

  “Release her. Now!”

  Keeping its talons buried in Awasa, the Storm Dragon whipped its head around. Turesobei met its fiery eyes. His poorly cast command spell fizzled out.

  The dragon’s eyes flashed defiantly and it turned back to its prey. Electricity built up within the belly of the beast. The maw opened. It was going to blast her. He wasn’t sure the Blood King could bring her back if it mangled her too badly.

  Turesobei reached into his spell pouch. The strip for the spell of compelling obedience leapt into his fingertips. He cast the spell as fast as he could and again yelled, “Stop!”

  This time he unleashed a perfect casting. The dragon shivered and jerked away, as if it were a fish hooked by the mouth. The lightning build-up ceased.

  “Come to me,” Turesobei said.

  The Storm Dragon slithered up to him. Sparks showered from its horns and fiery whiskers. Its eyes burned with hatred. He could feel it straining to break free of his command. It wanted nothing more than that. But his will held firm.

  “You will obey me.”