The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

  “Is the lake…” began Eynon.

  “…warmed by the cuddio tân?” responded Damon. “It is. The heat varies from place to place. There’s one spot near the shore where you can enjoy a pleasant hot bath and another that will boil the meat off your bones.”

  “I’ll stick to the hot bath,” said Eynon, “and will save the boiled meat for our stew pot.”

  “A wise choice,” said Damon. “Now it’s time to teach you how to cast fireballs. Throw them at the center of the lake where the steam is thickest. You can’t hurt anything there.”

  “Not even fish?” asked Eynon with a smile.

  “Any fish straying near the center will be precooked,” said Damon, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Let your magestone know what you want. Allow your setting to moderate the extremes of your will and let fly.”

  Eynon felt his magestone and his mind fit into a comfortable matrix. He rubbed his hands together until his palms were warm, then he cupped his hands, envisioned a fireball forming between them, and cast it like a falling star at the surface of the lake.

  The water boiled and hissed. An even larger plume of steam rose up where the fireball struck, but Eynon’s flaming missile hadn’t done anything to hurt the lake’s waters.

  “Very good,” said Damon. “You’re showing restraint. That was a medium-sized fireball. See how small you can make one.”

  Eynon nodded and clenched his teeth, then relaxed his jaw. He didn’t want to make a habit out of tensing up to work wizardry. He imagined a gentle rain of fiery spheres, each no larger than a dewdrop. With a wave of his hand they materialized, falling to the lake’s warm waters with a ssssssttt sound that reminded him of water drowning a campfire. Eynon turned his head to face Damon, hoping for feedback.

  “I’m impressed,” said the older man. “Most apprentices can’t make fireballs smaller than apricots.”

  “You asked me to make them as small as I could.”

  “I did,” said Damon. “I hesitate to ask how large you can make one.”

  “I’m worried about that, too,” said Eynon. “I don’t want to vaporize the entire lake by accident.”

  “I don’t think even your magic can do that, lad,” said Damon. “Though you can take comfort in knowing any release of energy powerful enough to blast away half the lake would undoubtedly kill us both in the process.”

  “That’s not very comforting,” said Eynon.

  “Then exercise restraint,” said the older man. “Make a somewhat larger fireball, but not a large fireball.”

  “I’ll try,” said Eynon.

  “Try hard,” said Damon.

  He shifted his flying disk until he was behind Eynon, not beside him.

  Eynon looked over his shoulder and saw Damon nod. He turned back and reached out to his magestone, feeling its power shaped by the flowers and flowing vines of its cast-gold setting. Eynon called for power to build, then cut it off before it grew too strong by closing his hand into a fist. He pulled his arm back and brought it forward, opening his hand and sending a ball of orange fire the size of a pumpkin toward the surface of the lake.

  Before the fireball could hit, Damon was beside him throwing a bubble of solidified sound around them both. Their protective bubble was thrown backward on a wave of superheated steam. Damon’s hand on Eynon’s arm kept them both upright and on their flying disks as the bubble tossed and bobbed like an acorn in floodwaters. After half a minute of continued erratic motion, the bubble stabilized.

  Eynon stared down at the lake, improbably expecting to see a hole in the water leading all the way to the bottom. Instead, there was a hole in the water, but it marked the center of a whirlpool fifty feet across, spinning in a hypnotic pattern that captured Eynon’s gaze and held it tight until Chee began to chitter excitedly in Eynon’s ear.

  “Sorry,” said Eynon. “I may have made that one a bit too big.”

  “A bit,” affirmed Damon. “I think that red magestone of yours has a special affinity for fire. I’ve never seen a fireball that size packed with so much energy. You’ll need to be very careful casting fireball spells in the future. You could do more damage to your own side than the enemy.”

  “I hope I never have to use wizardry in battle,” said Eynon.

  “You may not have a choice in the matter, lad,” said Damon, overlapping his flying disk so he could put his arm around Eynon’s shoulders. “We can leave that problem for the future. For now, I think we’d best call it a day.”

  “Good idea,” said Eynon. He was shaking as he realized the full extent of the destruction caused by his spell.

  “Come along,” said Damon. “A bowl of stew will set you right.”

  “Chi-chi-chi-chee!” said Chee from Eynon’s shoulder.

  “And an Applegarth apple for you, little one!”

  Eynon followed Damon back to the castle with the whirlpool still churning in the lake behind them.

  Merry

  “Well done,” said Fercha. “You have good control of all the major offensive spells—fireballs, lightning, sound blasts, tight light, and cold.”

  “Thank you,” said Merry. “I’ve stored them with triggers in my magestone’s setting so I can retrieve them quickly.”

  “Very good,” said the wizard in blue. “I’ve watched you practicing and was quite impressed with the way you made a boulder shatter by applying intense heat to one side and intense cold to the other.”

  “I remembered what happened when my mother took a ceramic crock directly from hot ashes and put it in a basin of water to cool,” said Merry. “She only did that once.”

  “Another good lesson,” said Fercha. “Learn from your mistakes and don’t make them a second time.”

  “Which is only useful when your first mistake doesn’t kill you,” said Merry with a grin.

  “Not making mistakes that kill you is the beginning of wisdom,” Fercha replied with an answering smile. “It’s probably best to avoid mistakes that make you wish you were dead as well.”

  “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” said Merry. “I can see that practicing wizardry can be dangerous, especially when other wizards are trying to kill you.”

  “I am speaking from experience,” said Fercha. “Painful experience. But my biggest mistakes weren’t with wizardry.”

  “Not with wizardry?” echoed Merry.

  “No,” said Fercha. “With wizards.”

  Merry was ready to ask more questions, but Fercha changed the subject.

  “I heard from Doethan last night,” she said. “He said he has important news from Brendinas and is heading this way. He said he will stop at the tower this evening.”

  “Doethan’s coming here?” asked Merry.

  “That’s what I said. I think he’ll be very pleased to see your progress.”

  “I think I’ll be very pleased to see him,” Merry exclaimed. “What sort of important news? Do you think it’s about the war?”

  “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t,” Fercha replied. “I told him about dueling Verro after I caught him snooping around west of here.”

  “What do you think Verro was looking for?”

  “I don’t know, and that bothers me,” said Fercha. “It sounds like it bothers Doethan, too.”

  “Doethan’s not a hedge wizard, is he?”

  “You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Merry. “I supposed I always have. He lives like a hedge wizard, but doesn’t feel like a hedge wizard. From time to time, my father would say things about Doethan that made me sure he was more than he pretends to be.”

  “And that’s one of the reasons you apprenticed yourself to him?” asked Fercha.

  “Yes,” said Merry. “My da also said I should talk to Doethan if I
was curious about wizardry.”

  Fercha laughed.

  “I’ll wager he didn’t say that in your mother’s hearing.”

  “No,” said Merry. “We were on a trip to Tyford together. My da introduced me to Doethan when we stopped at his tower.”

  “Your father and Doethan were both important advisers to the old king,” said Fercha. “It’s not my place to tell their stories, but you may want to ask Doethan about his time in the old king’s service. When you get back to Applegarth, you can ask your father the same question, though I don’t guarantee you’ll hear the same stories from both of them.”

  “My father was an adviser to the old king?”

  “He was on the royal council. So was Doethan.”

  “Neither of them ever said anything about it.”

  “Think,” said Fercha. “Why would Derry settle in the far west of the kingdom? Why would Doethan play the part of a humble hedge wizard not far from Derry’s baronial lands?”

  “Why does my da never travel closer to Brendinas than Tyford?” mused Merry.

  “Good,” said Fercha. “You’re considering possibilities.”

  “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head by a plow horse.”

  “I felt the same way when I was a girl and realized my parents must have…”

  “I understand,” said Merry as Fercha’s voice trailed off. “It’s strange when you realize your parents must have had sex.”

  “No, it’s not that,” said Fercha, “but no matter. It’s just ancient history.”

  “Since you bring it up,” said Merry, “do you have any history books in the tower? Ones that cover the relevant years?”

  “I do,” said Fercha. “I rescued one of them from the flames, but that’s another story you don’t need to hear. There’s no accounting for the foolishness of princes.”

  “There’s no shortage of foolishness,” said Merry, thinking of Gruffyd. “Do you think that’s why we’re at war?”

  “I would, if I hadn’t spotted Verro scouting the lands west of the Rhuthro valley,” said Fercha. “I pushed him back to the river…”

  “And dueled and lost your magestone?” asked Merry.

  “Correct,” said Fercha. “Though I’m not proud of it. Verro was looking for something, but I don’t know what.”

  “I have a friend who knows the lands to the west quite well,” said Merry.

  “Your lover from the Coombe? The one who found my artifact?”

  “Uh huh,” said Merry.

  “He won’t do us much good, unfortunately. If he’s where I think he is after taking the gate in the base of the tower, he might as well be across the sea.”

  “I know how to get in touch with him,” said Merry.

  Fercha looked at Merry and raised an eyebrow.

  “Doethan has an enchanted ring and gave Eynon a matching one,” said Merry quickly. “He can talk to Eynon whenever he wants.”

  “I know the spell he must have used,” said Fercha after brief pause. “It’s a limited gate that’s only good for sight and sound. It’s tricky to get the rings’ bands to expand, but not too hard once you’ve done it a few times.”

  “Could you make a ring like that now, or show me how to enchant one?”

  “I could,” said Fercha, “but it wouldn’t do much good. Rings like that have to be tuned to each other and we don’t know anything about the ring Doethan gave Eynon. It’s easier to wait until he gets here tonight. Then I can read the tuning on Doethan’s ring and make you a copy of it, or teach you how to make one.”

  Merry grasped Fercha’s hands, then did a small, excited dance.

  “Could you?” she said. “That would be wonderful!”

  “I’m glad you’re so easily delighted,” said Fercha. “This young man must be quite special.”

  “He’s sweet and smart and charming and clueless and very brave and the best cook and…”

  “Yes, yes,” said Fercha. “I’m sure he’s an amazing individual. That’s all well and good—but now you need to focus on learning defensive magic so you can stay alive long enough to see him again.”

  Chapter 26

  “Testing reveals the tester as much as the tested.”

  — Ealdamon’s Epigrams

  “Did Rocky catch a deer?” asked Eynon from the battlements.

  “I called a big one to the castle,” said Damon, leaning on his staff at Eynon’s right. “What your scaly pet chose to do with it is his business.”

  “I’m sorry I was late and didn’t see it,” said Eynon. “I had to put tonight’s rolls by the fire to proof.”

  Damon nodded, as if any cooking-related excuse would be accepted without objection. Off to the west, Eynon heard faint grinding sounds, like a giant mortar and pestle in operation.

  “There he is,” said Eynon, pointing in that direction. “Under those trees. That sound must be from all the rocks he swallowed.”

  “That wyvern of yours has a healthy appetite,” Nûd added from the other side of Eynon. “I’m glad he’s eating over there, so I don’t lose my appetite.”

  From what Eynon could see at this distance, the big deer’s head had already been removed from its body. Eynon noticed that Nûd was holding a loaded crossbow and aiming it out toward the woods where the grinding sounds were coming from. He had a quiver full of bolts slung over his shoulder and at the ready. Eynon hoped the weapon wasn’t intended as protection against Rocky.

  “He’s a good wyvern,” said Eynon.

  “So long as he keeps his distance,” said Nûd. He winked at Eynon and pointed his crossbow down. Eynon wasn’t sure if he was being teased, but figured the odds were good. He shifted his attention back to Damon.

  “How do you call animals?” Eynon asked the older man.

  “That’s advanced wizardry,” said Damon.

  “He put out a salt lick,” said Nûd.

  “Quiet, you,” said Damon, dismissing Nûd’s comment with a wave before putting his free hand on Eynon’s shoulder.

  “You’re going to learn advanced forms of shield work today, lad,” Damon continued.

  “Like the bubble of solidified sound you created to protect us from my fireball at the lake yesterday?”

  “Yes,” said Damon. “A bubble is one kind of shield. You’ll practice creating those, and other types of shields as well.”

  “What other types?” asked Eynon.

  “We’ll get there in a minute,” said Damon. He looked Eynon up and down, as if trying to determine the extent of his previous education from his physical appearance. “I know you’ve studied Euclid and have a basic familiarity with plane geometry, but have you read Apollonius of Perga’s Treatise on Cones and Spheres?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t,” said Eynon. “My teacher back in the Coombe never mentioned him.”

  “Apollonius isn’t useful for military engineers, but his writings are quite valuable for wizards.”

  Damon used the head of his staff to sketch out a three-dimensional cone and sphere in the air in front of Eynon. The figures were drawn in glowing dark blue lines. Eynon stepped back to the inner edge of the path along the top of the battlement to get a better look.

  “The sphere is like the bubble you created yesterday,” observed Eynon.

  “Correct,” said Damon. “Now follow along.”

  The older man formed a third figure—a shimmering rectangle the size of a page of parchment in a book. Instead of being outlined, the rectangle was filled with a luminous shade of sky blue.

  Slowly, Damon moved the rectangle through the sphere.

  “What do you see?” asked Damon.

  “New shapes,” said Eynon. “Some are familiar, some not.”

  “Yes, but consider defensive magic. What do you
see?”

  “I see many ways to make a shield,” said Eynon. “A dished circle or oval would protect against an attacker if you kept it turned toward them.”

  Damon raised one eyebrow and nodded his approval.

  “Enough theory,” said Nûd. “When are you going to let him generate a complex shield for himself?”

  “Soon,” said Damon, frowning. “At this stage, it’s important for the lad to understand the theoretical basis of defensive wizardry, not just the practice.”

  Eynon kept quiet about his experience using the blue oval magestone to defend himself from Rocky’s initial ‘attacks.’ What Nûd and Damon didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. They already knew he could make sophisticated constructs of solidified sound for boiling water, melting gold, and escaping basilisks. Damon shifted the flat rectangle from the sphere to the cone.

  “What do you see now?” asked the older man.

  “Flat circles and ellipses,” said Eynon. “And arches with rounded tops.”

  “Parabolas,” said Damon.

  “How are they useful?” asked Eynon. “Why wouldn’t I always want to use a sphere to protect me from all directions?”

  “Because you can’t fight back effectively through a sphere,” Nûd answered.

  “At last, you’ve said something helpful,” said Damon.