The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

  “Remember to call me Damon, lad. Calling me sir makes me feel old.”

  “But you are…” began Nûd.

  Damon stopped him with a raised finger.

  “You can tell us about the wyvern later. Let’s see what you found,” Damon continued.

  “Yes, sir—I mean, yes, Damon,” said Eynon.

  He removed his magestone from his pouch and carefully placed it on the table. The stone’s red glow washed across the wooden surface. Chee opened one eye and stared at it for a few seconds, then returned to napping. Damon leaned in to examine the magestone more closely.

  “It’s red,” said Nûd.

  “Your powers of observation astound me,” said Damon dryly.

  “Is that bad?” asked Eynon.

  “Not at all,” said Damon, “but it is unusual. As I’d told you, most wizards from Dâron resonate with blue stones, just as Tamloch’s wizards favor green.”

  “And wizards from the Eagle People use purple or black magestones?”

  “You were paying attention, lad,” said Damon. “Very good.”

  The older man shifted position so he could get a better look at the far side of Eynon’s magestone.

  “A red stone is uncommon?” asked Eynon.

  “A red stone is unprecedented,” Damon replied.

  “Maybe the Master knows about wizards with red stones?” offered Nûd.

  Damon looked at the big servant and raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe,” said the older man, shaking his head from side to side. “This one is half the size of a hen’s egg.”

  “Is that large for a magestone?” asked Eynon.

  “Yes,” said Damon. “It certainly is. Most magestones are no bigger than the last joint of your thumb. This one is four times that size, though it will be smaller when you cut and polish it.”

  “Cut it?” asked Eynon. He was reluctant to do anything that might damage the stone.

  “Don’t worry,” said Damon. “Your magestone will guide you through the process. Cutting and polishing makes it sparkle.”

  “It sparkles now,” said Nûd.

  “After cutting and polishing it will sparkle more,” said Damon.

  “Of course,” said Nûd. The big servant tilted his head to acknowledge Damon’s evident wisdom. Eynon watched him stick out his tongue at the older man when Damon couldn’t see him.

  “What do I need to do after cutting and polishing?” asked Eynon.

  “You’ll need to craft a setting for it,” said Damon. “A stone of this caliber will need an extra-fine gold setting.”

  “A magestone that big will require a lot of gold,” added Nûd.

  “I don’t have any money to buy gold for a setting,” said Eynon.

  He leaned his elbows on the table and stared at the pulsing red gem. He wanted his magestone to have a worthy setting, but had no idea how he’d pay for gold leaf, let alone a lump of gold.

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Damon. “Wizards find their magestones—and they also find the materials for their settings.”

  What? thought Eynon.

  “I knew a wizard who made her setting out of carved wood,” said Nûd. “She didn’t have any trouble finding what she needed.”

  Eynon remembered the unending miles of trees outside the castle. He was considering whether he would make his setting from hardwood or pine when Damon spoke up.

  “Nothing but gold will do for this stone.”

  “If you say so,” said Eynon. “Where’s the nearest gold mine?”

  “Hundreds of miles from here,” offered Nûd, “but don’t worry. You won’t have to mine it.”

  “You can pan for it in the river,” said Damon. “Nûd will show you.”

  “Thank you for volunteering me,” said Nûd.

  “I’m sure the Master would approve,” said Damon.

  “I’ll have words with the Master and confirm that later,” Nûd replied. “For now, though, I can show you how to get started.”

  “The sooner you have enough gold, the sooner you can craft your setting,” Damon added. “You should get moving while you still have plenty of daylight. It will take you a week or more to accumulate enough dust.”

  “I thought I needed gold, not dust,” said Eynon.

  “Mister Inscrutable is talking about gold dust, not household dust,” said Nûd.

  “If you needed household dust, I would have sent you upstairs,” said Damon. “Due to someone’s lack of attention, the third floor is covered in the stuff.”

  “I’ll clean the third floor when there’s good reason to,” said Nûd. “With so few students and wizards in residence, I have better things to do with my time than clean vacant rooms.”

  “As you say,” said Damon. “I’m surprised the Master tolerates such a lack of attention.”

  “I’m surprised you’re allowed to teach apprentices, old man.”

  “Excuse me,” Eynon inserted. “Where do I have to go to pan for gold, please?”

  “Just a few miles upriver from the falls,” said Damon.

  “Get your coat and snowshoes,” said Nûd. “I’ll take you to a good spot and show you how it’s done.”

  “Ummm,” said Eynon.

  “What?” asked Nûd.

  “The snowshoes you gave me are back at the hot springs.”

  “Oh. Well, that can’t be helped,” said Nûd. “I’m sure I can find another pair around somewhere—unless we’re traveling on wyvern-back.”

  “That could probably be arranged,” said Eynon with a smile.

  “This I’ve got to see,” said Damon. The corners of his mouth were turning up.

  “One thing first, though,” said Eynon.

  “What?” asked Nûd.

  “I want to start some bread for dinner.”

  “An excellent idea,” said Damon. “All in favor?”

  He raised his hand and so did Nûd and Eynon.

  “The ayes have it,” said Damon. “Now get cooking, and be quick about it. The sun sets early in Melyncárreg at this time of year.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Eynon.

  “Yes, Damon,” the older man corrected. “Call me when you’re ready to set out. I want to see your new pet.”

  * * * * *

  Six loaves of bread were proofing in a niche near the fire when Eynon and Nûd were ready to set out. Eynon had strapped his shard-sword on the back of his pack and hung his crossbow on his belt. Nûd had given Eynon two glazed ceramic dishes, like pie pans, and several small drawstring bags of tightly woven cloth. For the dust, Nûd had said. Chee was perched on top of Eynon’s fur hat, where he could properly supervise the humans’ activities.

  Nûd shouted up the stairs to the library. “We’re leaving, old man. Come down if you want to see Eynon’s wyvern.”

  “On my way,” came Damon’s voice in reply.

  The older man took his coat down from a peg and put it on. He followed Nûd and Eynon up to the castle’s side door. Eynon tried to push the door open, but couldn’t. Something was blocking it. Nûd added his strength and they were slowly able to push the obstacle out of the way. A dozen feet back from the door, the big black wyvern was sitting on its haunches, playing with the three balls of solidified sound.

  Nûd tugged on Eynon’s arm. He looked down and saw what had been blocking the door. It was the carcass of a large buck, with odd white markings and strange-looking antlers. From what Eynon could tell, the wyvern must have left it as an offering.

  “We haven’t had pronghorn in a few months,” said Nûd. “They’re good eating.”

  Eynon filed it away that the unusual deer were called pronghorns. Reexamining this one’s antlers, he thought the name was apt. And he was quite fond of venison.


  “Thank you,” said Eynon to the wyvern.

  The beast nodded and kicked the yellow ball to Eynon, who picked it up and tossed it back. Chee chattered at the wyvern from the safety of Eynon’s hat.

  “I didn’t know they were intelligent,” said Nûd.

  “Wyverns, or pronghorns?” asked Eynon.

  “Wyverns, of course,” answered Nûd.

  “Older dragons are wiser than most humans,” said Damon, “and wyverns are close cousins to dragons.”

  “Too bad humans don’t always grow wiser as they age,” teased Nûd.

  “I was born wise,” said Damon. “Unlike certain other individuals I might name.”

  “Of course, grandpa,” said Nûd, trying to give back as good as he got. “Your venerable self is a font of wisdom and I’m the base brute who makes the beds and takes out the trash.”

  “I believe I’ve just been insulted, Eynon,” said Damon.

  “Yes, sir,” said Eynon with a smile. “By ironic exaggeration.”

  “See,” said Damon to Nûd. “Even when he’s explaining your insults, he’s still polite.”

  Nûd laughed and turned the palms of his gloved hands up in defeat.

  “You win, Damon,” he said. “I’ll put in a good word for you with the Master the next time I see him.”

  “See that you do,” said Damon with a smile.

  “Would you like help with the pronghorn carcass?” asked Eynon. “I could carry it down to the cold storage pantry if you’d like.”

  “Not unless your muscles have muscles,” said Nûd. “It’s going to take at least two of us to get it inside. A big buck can weigh a hundred and fifty pounds and that’s one of the biggest I’ve seen. Looks like I’ll have to teach you how to pan for gold tomorrow, Eynon. We’ll have to dress the buck now and set out at first light.”

  “Nonsense,” said Damon. “Try to keep your wyvern amused, lad, and wait a few minutes.”

  The older man headed back inside, waving to them as he left. Eynon and Nûd exchanged glances, then moved apart and played three-way catch with the wyvern, using the blue ball this time. Nûd found a spot to stand down the hill.

  “That’s interesting,” said Nûd when he’d had a chance to observe the ground around him.

  “What’s interesting?” asked Eynon.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about your wyvern getting enough to eat,” Nûd replied.

  “Oh?”

  “There’s blood on the snow down here and a pronghorn’s severed head is sitting in a snowbank,” said Nûd. “Your beast must have caught two of them.”

  Eynon circled down to inspect what Nûd had found. He tossed the blue ball up a hundred feet to keep the wyvern busy. Blood didn’t bother him—he was raised on a farm, after all—and he was impressed by the neat cut from the wyvern’s teeth.

  “It makes sense,” said Eynon.

  “What does?”

  “Not wanting to eat the pronghorn’s head and horns. They’d probably be painful to swallow.”

  Nûd took another look at the pronghorn’s long, sharp antlers.

  “You’ve got a point,” Nûd confirmed. “What are you going to call the beast?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s your pet,” said Nûd. “You’ve got to name it.”

  As if on cue, the wyvern returned with the blue ball. Eynon tossed the green ball high in the air this time. The bat-winged black beast launched himself after the ball like a bolt from a crossbow.

  “Cheeeeee!” chirped Chee as he watched the wyvern climb skyward.

  “Chee named himself,” said Eynon. “Maybe I should wait for the wyvern to tell me his name, instead of giving him one.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Nûd. “But don’t wait too long, or his name will be Wyvern.”

  “That’s good advice.” Eynon rubbed his chin, considering alternatives.

  The wyvern returned with the green ball in his mouth, releasing it so it would roll down to Nûd and Eynon. Then he furled his wings and walked—like a chicken, Eynon thought—over to a tall, irregular pile of snow. Standing on one leg, the wyvern scratched at the snow pile, revealing a mound of irregularly shaped stones, ranging in size from Eynon’s fist to his head. The big beast opened his mouth and shoveled a quarter of the stones from the rocky mound inside.

  “He not only walks like a chicken, he eats grit like a chicken,” said Nûd.

  “I thought chickens ate pebbles to help digest their food,” said Eynon. “He’s got teeth to cut his meals up into smaller pieces, so I don’t see why he needs to eat rocks.”

  “Look at the blood on the ground,” said Nûd. “Do you think he cut the pronghorn into bite-sized pieces?”

  “There’s not enough red snow for that,” said Eynon, observing the scene. “Just enough to go along with cutting the buck’s head off. I think he got rid of the head, then swallowed the rest whole.”

  “Which would explain why he needs to eat rocks,” noted Nûd.

  “True,” said Eynon, “and now I have a name for him.”

  “Chicken?” asked Nûd.

  “No,” said Eynon. “Rocky.”

  “Good choice,” said Nûd as he watched the wyvern consume more of the pile of stones.

  “Cheee!” agreed Chee.

  Rocky swallowed a rounded stone even larger than Eynon’s head. It made a visible bulge as it slid down the beast’s neck.

  “Your name is Rocky,” said Eynon.

  The wyvern’s answering belch echoed off the castle’s walls.

  Chapter 22

  “The way it’s always been done isn’t necessarily best.”

  — Ealdamon’s Epigrams

  “Would you two please stop annoying the wyvern and help me with this buck?” asked Damon from the door to the kitchen.

  Eynon remembered a juggler who’d passed through the Coombe on a midsummer festival day a few years ago and tried moving the three balls in what the itinerant entertainer called a shower pattern. As the spheres circled in front of his eyes, Rocky seemed entranced and playfully reached out with one of his legs to try to capture a ball of solidified sound.

  Nûd and Eynon walked back to Damon. A strange-looking disk a yard wide was hovering an inch above the ground, close to Rocky’s pronghorn offering. The material the disk was made from reminded Eynon of the shards he’d found near the burning oak back in Applegarth.

  What could shatter a disk like that? Eynon wondered. He decided to save that question for later.

  “You take the head and I’ll take the feet,” said Nûd.

  “Right,” said Eynon, but before he could move, Rocky trotted over to them.

  Damon moved his hands in the pattern of a defensive spell, but it was unnecessary. The wyvern gently picked up the pronghorn buck in his mouth and transferred the carcass to Damon’s disk. Then Rocky leaned back and pranced from side to side.

  “Good boy,” said Eynon.

  He scratched Rocky’s chin with the end of his staff.

  “That was unexpected,” said Damon.

  “Rocky is a fast learner,” said Eynon.

  “Uh huh,” said Damon.

  “Do you need help getting the buck down to the kitchen?” asked Nûd.

  “No, I can do it,” said Damon. “If you hurry, you can still head upriver and teach Eynon how to pan for gold before it gets dark.”

  “If you say so,” said Nûd, who took a long look at the wyvern, then turned to Eynon.

  “What?” asked the younger man.

  “Are we walking or flying?”

  “Flying would be faster,” Eynon answered. “Let’s see if he’ll carry us both.”

  Eynon approached Rocky’s side and used scales on the wyvern’s leg
to climb onto its back. Rocky looked at Eynon curiously over his shoulder, but made no move to attack. Reluctantly, Nûd climbed on board as well. The two of them wrapped their hands around the ends of Eynon’s scarf, which was still anchored to the pair of knobs between Rocky’s wings. Chee scampered from Eynon’s hat to his refuge inside Eynon’s coat, anticipating a windy trip.

  Looking back, Rocky nodded his huge head as if to confirm his passengers were securely aboard, then faced forward. Eynon dispelled the three balls he’d created earlier and made a larger ball of solidified sound marked in alternating white and green segments. He gave the new ball a slight spin and set it hovering in front of Rocky’s wide muzzle. The wyvern licked it and generated rumbling noises deep in its chest.

  “Which way are we headed?” asked Eynon.

  “A bit south, then west along the river a few miles,” said Nûd. “There’s a spot where the current slows and gold dust collects.”

  “South, then west it is,” Eynon replied.

  He sent the spinning multicolored sphere in an arcing parabolic course toward the river. Rocky extended his wings and smoothly ascended to follow it. From his new, elevated vantage point, Eynon could see the churning water of the river cutting through the green, forested land like a game trail. To the west, Eynon saw fast-moving rapids, followed by a broad stretch of quieter water.

  “Put us down there,” shouted Nûd over the wind in their ears. The larger man indicated a flat beach strewn with pebbles on the south side of the quiet segment of the river.

  Eynon used the spinning ball to guide Rocky to Nûd’s recommended location. The pebbled beach featured four or five large driftwood logs close to the water. A recently-downed tree’s roots had caught on the logs. Its crown extended into the river. Nûd used a conveniently angled log to help him descend from Rocky’s back. Eynon slid down Rocky’s leg and joined Nûd. The wyvern moved back from the riverbank. He circled twice, with his nose chasing his tail, then curled up on a broad stretch of sun-warmed pebbles.