The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

  He walked out onto the plank, took deep breaths and focused his mind.

  Keep a steady pace but don’t rush the first time through. You’re better off completing each part slowly but successfully than going too fast and getting stuck.

  Gyoroe tapped the rod. It rang out and the first symbol lit. “Begin!”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Turesobei climbed down the rope and dropped the last five feet onto the sandy floor. A wash of magical energy rushed over him as the course realigned. With Enashoma and Kurine shouting encouragement, he took off.

  He sprinted the first section and turned the sharp corner.

  Ahead of him stood a series of three-foot-high stone blocks spanning the width of the passage. Hurdles, ten of them. He reached the first and cautiously climbed over it. The hurdle was only a few inches thick and he felt pretty confident he could jump over it if he was running. If he couldn’t, he’d need to learn to fast. They were among the easier obstacles he’d seen in the maze. It was important that he master them, or he'd never get his time under the Blood King’s limit.

  He sprinted ahead and jumped the next hurdle, trusting that he could clear it. He couldn’t. His toes clipped the far edge. He stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees, scraping his knuckles. Otherwise, he was okay. Picking himself up, he quickly scrambled over the other hurdles and turned the corner.

  The next passage held a series of five-foot high walls. Each one was a couple of feet thick and had a small archway cut into the bottom. He could either crawl through the arch or leap on top of the wall.

  He chose the latter option but as he got closer he noticed the sparkling, razor-sharp rocks lining the top edge. Going too fast to stop, he slid and aimed for the arch. His feet went under but his forearms collided with the stone.

  He cried out and wiggled the rest of the way through. Tears welled in his eyes. Cradling his arms against his body, he rocked back and forth a few moments. The bruises went bone deep. He might even have a few hairline fractures. Clenching his hands into fists hurt like Torment, but everything still worked. He had to keep going.

  If only he could cast a healing spell….

  Lu Bei swept overhead. “Go, master! Go, go!”

  Turesobei crawled under the other arches, wincing each time he put weight on his arms, then raced to the end of the passage. Rounding the corner, he slammed into a wall that reached almost to the catwalks.

  He staggered back, wincing in pain at the new bruises on his hands and arms.

  Lesson learned. Slow down at each turn.

  Handholds were cut into the rock wall. He spotted a route he liked and climbed. On a normal day, he would've reached the top in no time. But with his hands banged up and his forearms aching, it took him twice as long as it should have. By the time he reached the top, tears streaked down his cheeks. Knowing how much of the course remained, he wanted badly to stop. But he couldn’t. Quitting would infuriate the Blood King and his eyes were already orange. That version of the Blood King would torture everyone for his failure and then still expect them to run the course.

  Turesobei climbed down into another hallway. A ten-foot-long section of the floor was missing. He walked to the edge, peered down, and gasped. Below lay a pit filled with dark water from which tentacles thrashed. Bales of hay lined the floor on the other side, obviously to cushion a landing.

  This course sucked demon balls. How was he going to finish it twice every day? He walked back to the climbing wall with a sigh. Then he sprinted to the edge of the pit and leapt. As long as he didn't break any major bones landing, all that mattered was avoiding that pit and the monster inside it. He did hope he wouldn’t land hands-first, though. His poor arms couldn't take much more abuse.

  The pit whizzed past underneath, and he bellyflopped into the hay. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs but he could live with that. Thankfully, the hay was thick enough to cushion even his crude landing.

  Lu Bei swooped overhead. “Good going, master! Now get up and go, go, go!”

  He cursed Lu Bei's enthusiasm and, gasping for breath, staggered out of the hay. Then he jogged—the best he could do—to the corner and stepped cautiously into the next passage.

  This entire section wasn't a hallway. It was a round tunnel. A large, circular stone like a giant marble blocked the entrance. He pushed on the stone ball. It rolled upward at a slight incline. Clearly he had to push the ball up the tunnel ramp to reach the next passage. He groaned. This would stink at the best of times but, with his arms hurting, it was going to be torture. After the first several steps, he was certain that hairline fractures were spider-webbing their way through the bones of his arms. He paused to rest them, using his shoulder to prop the boulder in place.

  An idea suddenly struck him. He turned his back to the stone ball and walked it, step by agonizing step, backwards up the tunnel. When he reached the top, the ball rolled into a hole in the floor and out of his way. He rounded the corner and frowned.

  After a simple drop to the floor—the tunnel had risen halfway up to the catwalk—there was nothing between him and the next corner except a section of empty passage. Lungs burning, he paused to catch his breath.

  A straight sprint this far in? It was a trap. It had to be a trap. But there was nothing he could do but run, and see what happened. So he ran.

  A sandbag the size of a sack of flour shot out at him from the top of the right hand wall. He leapt forward and the weight swung past behind him. The break in his stride sent him stumbling. So when a second bag swept down at him from the left, it crashed into his shoulder. He hit the ground and rolled awkwardly to his feet. The sandbag continued on as if nothing had happened. He hadn't even slowed it down. It hung from a rope that was attached to a metal pole hovering magically over the passage. The whole thing must have been invisible until the first bag had swung down.

  The sandbag hit the top of its arc and zoomed back toward him. He dropped flat against the ground and it whizzed harmlessly overhead. The entire passage was filled with sandbags swinging back and forth like pendulums. They all moved at exactly the same speed—regardless of obstacles, apparently—and were evenly spaced along the hallway.

  Lu Bei screeched at him. “Stop wasting time!”

  Turesobei took a few seconds to analyze the pattern, then took off. He raced by the next sandbag just as it cleared his path. The next he reached too soon, and he barely dodged around behind it. That made him slow down enough that he reached the last two at the perfect time. He made it to the corner without getting hit again.

  He turned and found himself facing a pool of dark, still water. It stretched the length of the section. Not a single ripple disturbed the surface. If there was danger, it wasn't obvious.

  Resisting the urge to call on his kenja-sight, Turesobei hopped in. He assumed the pool was no more that chest deep and that he could wade the first few steps, to make sure it was safe, before swimming the rest of the way. He was wrong. The icy water closed over his head. He sank deeper and deeper into the black pool. Panicked, he started swimming before his feet touched the bottom, if there was one.

  As soon as his head broke the surface, he gasped for breath. The frigid water seemed to steal the air from his lungs and he was already shivering. If he didn't get out of this pool soon, he’d freeze to death before he drowned. He swam as fast as his numb body would let him. It took several attempts to get his fingers to grip the edge of the pool, but he finally managed to climbed out on the other side. He lay on the ground shivering a few moments before squeezing the water out of his hair and clothes. Then he rubbed the feeling back into his arms and legs before rounding the corner.

  The next section began with another climbing wall. He climbed painfully to the top and looked across. His jaw dropped. Below the wall was…nothing. As far as he could see, it was an endless drop. A rope stretched from this wall to another wall at the end of the section. He carefully lowered himself onto the rope. Pain lanced through his hands and down into the bones of hi
s forearms.

  He gritted his teeth and pulled himself along. Halfway across, his hands went numb and he lost his grip. If not for his knees clenching tight around the rope as his fingers loosened, he would have fallen. Instead he dangled, upside down over the endless drop, until the feeling came back into his hands.

  By the time he reached the other side, his hands were no longer cold. They were blistered. Another lesson learned. Next time he would wear gloves.

  The next several passages held another set of hurdles, a hall full of mud where balls of muck shot out of the walls at him, and another chasm. This time, the maze provided him with a plank to walk across instead of a rope. Then there was a hill that wouldn't let him climb it unless he was also carrying the heavy sack that lay at the bottom. That was followed by a series of monster pits that he had to swing over and a passage that was basically one big climbing wall. It was like the other chasm sections in that there was no floor, just an endless drop. But where the others had some sort of bridge to cross, this passage was lined in climbing walls. He had to climb his way across.

  After that, he reached another tunnel, but the entrance was blocked by a stone door. The hinges connected at the top. So he grabbed the handle at the bottom and lifted. The door had to weigh more than Motekeru. Arms aching, he heaved upward. As soon as it was halfway open, he ducked under and darted inside. It smacked shut behind him.

  The tunnel was pitch dark. He started cautiously forward, hands probing the space ahead, and ran into a thin rope stretched across the middle of the passage. He slid under it and collided with another rope. He went over that one, then under another. He squeezed between two ropes, then three. It was like crawling through a spider’s web completely blind.

  The end was blocked by another heavy stone door. He found the handle, heaved it up, darted under and froze. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw the edge of another seemingly bottomless chasm lying inches away. Round stepping stones, each about four feet in diameter, floated at different heights and distances across the gap. They were spaced so you that could jump from one to another with relative ease. The problem was that they were unstable and bobbed in the air like planks of wood in water.

  Turesobei took a deep breath and hopped out onto the first stone. It sank gently under his weight but didn't wobble as badly as he’d feared.

  The next three stones were close together and all the same height. He walked across them easily. The fourth, though, was several feet higher. He leapt up and landed neatly in the center of the stone. But it bounced badly, forcing him to wait several moments for it to settle before he could move on. The next two were each a little lower than the last. And again, he had to pause on each before continuing.

  After that, the stones climbed slowly upward in a zigzag pattern. Once they reached almost to the height of the catwalk, the next stone dropped halfway down again.

  Turesobei misjudged both the distance and the angle. He landed hard and slightly off-center. The stone tottered dangerously. He threw his arms out and shifted his weight, trying to keep his balance. He almost fell twice but managed stay on. Finally, it steadied enough that he could make the jump to the last stone.

  It floated several feet below the floor of the passage. Another long drop. And he’d have to leap back up again to finish this section.

  He readied himself, aimed and jumped. Exhaustion made him overcompensate and he struck it even harder than last time. His feet slid to the edge.

  The stone tipped one way and then the other.

  Off balance, he splayed his arms wide and bent forward. That only made things worse. He felt the stone start to flip and launched himself at the edge.

  He hit much higher than he’d expected to. His chest slammed into the ledge, knocking the wind from his lungs, and his arms flopped onto the floor of the passage. The impact stunned him and he lay gasping. He started sliding back into the abyss before he even realized that he needed to pull himself the rest of the way up.

  Part of him wanted to let go. He was too tired and hurt to keep going. Gyoroe wouldn’t let him die, not like this. He needed Turesobei to retrieve the heart stones.

  “Come on, Master! You're almost there!” Lu Bei swooped past, cheering him on.

  When he listened, Turesobei could hear his friends yelling encouragement, as well. The thought of the Blood King turning those cruel, orange eyes on them when he had to be rescued made him scramble to find purchase on the stone floor.

  His fingers caught the seam between two blocks, stopping his slide. It took a ridiculous amount of effort, and some banged elbows and shins, but he managed to haul himself up over the edge. He crawled a safe distance away and lay panting in the corner on the floor of the passage.

  As he struggled to catch his breath, a man made of straw loomed over him. He rolled violently to the side, but the creature’s bamboo baton caught him in the ribs. A bone cracked and he cried out.

  He swept his leg out and tripped the straw warrior.

  Grasping his side, he leaped to his feet and shouldered into a second straw warrior, knocking it down. He ducked under the baton swings of the third and elbowed it on the chin. The blow dented in the lower half of the warrior’s face and made it stumble back awkwardly.

  He looked up. Zaiporo and Iniru pumped their fist in the air at Turesobei’s success. Enashoma and Kurine both looked worried sick but were still cheering. Awasa clapped with them. Seeing them gave him a much-needed boost of energy.

  Two of the warriors climbed to their feet and lumbered toward him. Turesobei staggered over to the stand with the weapons and fumbled for a sword. With his ribs cracked and both shoulders badly bruised, he wasn’t sure if he could even swing it. When he gripped the hilt, waves of pain crashed down the bones in his forearm. He turned around, nearly dropping the sword.

  The straw warrior had closed in on him. It swung its baton at his head.

  He raised the sword to block and dodged aside. He wasn’t fast enough. The club struck him in the face. His jaw popped. A bloody tooth went flying. His head snapped backward.

  The world spun around him, then went dark.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  He woke on the viewing platform, gasping for air and wincing as each inhalation brought a stabbing pain to his ribs and lungs. A dull ache was crushing the bones in his forearms and jaw. He must be covered by a single, giant bruise because everything hurt.

  The Blood King loomed above, his eyes a fiery mix of scarlet and orange.

  “You failed to complete the course.”

  Turesobei tried to speak but his jaw refused to open. He didn’t have the breath for anything more than a guttural whisper anyway.

  “I expect better from an apprentice of mine. Therefore, I am adding an extra week to the training requirement. K’chasan, you are up!”

  The Blood King glared at Turesobei a moment longer then stepped away.

  Hannya bent down and reached out a small white object. “Take this and hold it in place.”

  He focused his blurred vision on the object. It was a tooth. Why was she giving him a tooth and where was he supposed to hold it?

  Kurine knelt beside him and took the tooth. “I’ll do it for him.”

  “Is that mine?” he mumbled.

  He flinched when she touched his face. She pried at his jaw but couldn’t open it wide enough. Tears streamed from his eyes.

  Enashoma bent down and helped her. When they got his jaw open wide enough, he cried out and tried to wrench away.

  “Be still, my love,” Kurine said. “Just a moment longer.”

  He held as still as he could and Kurine pushed the tooth into place. Hannya cast a healing spell. A golden cloud descended onto him. Kenja as cold as well water seeped into his skin. The tooth rooted back into place. His bones mended. His bruises vanished. The fatigue left his muscles. He sucked in a deep breath without the pain or burning he’d felt before.

  “Thank you,” he muttered.

  “You should have let
him suffer longer,” Gyoroe said.

  Hannya made no reply. He was lucky Gyoroe hadn’t kept Hannya from healing him.

  Kurine kissed him on the cheek. “Are you okay now?”

  “I just need a good night of sleep.”

  “I hope Iniru will be okay,” Enashoma said.

  “She’ll be fine,” Zaiporo said. “She has lots more experience with this kind of thing than any of us do.”

  Gingerly, as his body wasn't fully recovered yet, Turesobei sat up and watched Iniru run the course. The whole maze had rearranged itself as soon as her feet touched the floor. Despite the fact that the obstacles were all in a different order now, she raced through the course. Obstacles he’d struggled with look like nothing more than child’s play when she did them.

  “I feel stupid now,” Turesobei muttered.

  “Because she’s better at it than you?” Awasa asked. “Did you expect otherwise?”

  He sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Master’s just bitter because he failed,” Lu Bei said.

  “Do we really have to do this twice each day?” Kurine asked.

  Gyoroe’s eyes turned solid scarlet and he glared at them. Turesobei held his breath, afraid he would punish them for the comment. But Hannya touched his arm and he restrained himself.

  “Only once tomorrow,” Hannya said, glancing cautiously at Gyoroe. “It would not be wise to overdo your training at the start.”

  “They will run the course twice tomorrow,” Gyoroe said.

  Hannya frowned but said nothing. She did, however, give Gyoroe a meaningful look.

  His eyes dimmed and shifted to purple, then bright blue. His jaw tightened. “They can skip the mock battle tomorrow.” He turned to observe Iniru. “I will grant no concessions beyond that.”

  “Are we fighting nakija-kagi in the mock battles?” Turesobei asked.

  Hannya shook her head. “Straw warriors like the ones you just faced.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Zaiporo said.