by A. R. Wilson
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies! I want progress!”
As his mouth widened to shout at her, she noticed a tooth missing at the back of his jaw. A tooth he had the last time he pulled in close to scream at her. Was The Master torturing him as punishment for her actions? No wonder why Jerricoh loathed helping her.
“I want to speak to him.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying.
“What?” He shook his head as though appalled by the question.
“I want to make a deal with him.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Please. I must ask him something.”
“Finish your studies, apprentice.”
“If I can finish this book by tomorrow, will you ask him to see me?”
His lip curled as he snorted a laugh. “You? Finish that?”
“If I can’t finish it by sunset tomorrow, I promise I won’t ask again.”
He pulled back, pursing his lips. “If you finish by sunset tomorrow, I will ask him to speak with you. If you do not reach the final page, then you start cleaning up your own messes.”
She glanced down at the two vases waiting for her next vomiting spree. “Deal.”
“You will clean without magic. Using your hands, as any other servant in the castle.”
“However you wish.”
His eyes hardened, the color of his eyes draining to a near white. Then, for some inexplicable reason, his eyebrows lifted and a hint of blue returned. “Convince me.”
Tascana adjusted her dress so she could sit cross-legged in the chair. Leaning onto her elbows, she poured back into the book. She wasn’t sure when he walked back to his seat. All she knew was the next time she threw up he sat across the room. A servant came to give her a glass of water, take the spent vase, and replace it with a fresh one.
Always two, in case I have a repeat before they can return.
Pushing herself to receive the list of spells swelled more painful than she anticipated. As the power forced its way into her, less and less room remained for her own soul. At one point her eyes blurred into a fuzzy haze of stars and she had to cast a spell of healing to be able to see again. And when Jerricoh announced dinner, she asked for the plate to be brought to her in the library. Though they usually ate together in the dining hall, tonight she was on a mission.
Sometime past midnight, her body gave out and she fell asleep. Thankfully, her nightmares woke her up before dawn, and she returned to her studies. When Jerricoh came in, she ignored him. She had to get to that last page by sunset. She had to! Both for her sake and for his. She had what The Master wanted. It only made sense he would be willing to give her at least a little of she wanted, if it would help her carry the thing inside of her.
Dozens of pages, and dozens of dry heaves later, she turned the last page.
Her cheeks cold from the nausea, she closed the back cover. “Done.”
Jerricoh walked over. No longer needing to stay propped over the pages, she allowed herself to slump over in the chair. A hand touched her forehead. Warmth spread through her face and chest, soothing the quivers in her joints.
“I am impressed. You truly can do whatever you put your mind to, apprentice.”
“When—” She gulped and fought to catch her breath. “When can I?”
“Soon. Let’s get you to bed first. You will need your strength if he is willing to meet with you.”
Darkness covered her eyes.
The next thing she knew, she was laying in her bed, snuggled deep under the blankets. It took a few swats to find open air. A lamp stood lit at the table by her bed and by the door. The one by the door also had two trays of food. Dinner and breakfast?
For the first time in weeks, she woke up ravenous. Barely a hint of nausea. She went to the trays and took her fill, which was far more than she had been able to eat since returning from Tretchin Valley. She could almost feel the food in her belly giving her strength. When she couldn’t eat another bite, she went to freshen herself up.
I wonder why Jerricoh isn’t here yet.
Guessing she had a new book to start studying, she headed for the library. No one there. Not Rothar, nor any servant who normally stood ready to help.
She went to the window. White dots stood against the hillside beyond the castle walls. Two of them had smaller dots standing close to them. One had to be the mare who spoke to her.
“He will see you now.”
Tascana almost jumped at the sound of Jerricoh’s voice. “Oh, thank you.”
“This way.”
She gave him a cursory glance and felt satisfied that his blank expression was not one of masked pain. He led her down the same series of halls and stairs as before, to the place with a single glass ball atop a pedestal. The small room they entered morphed to images of dying people as the black and purple threads of clouds scattered around them.
“Thank you, Jerricoh. You may leave now.” Tascana took a step away from him, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves.
“That isn’t an option.”
“My question for him is personal. I’d prefer it to be in private.”
“You live under the eye of The Master. No one under his gaze is allowed any measure of privacy.”
A hollow breathing sound, like a bear sleeping in a cave, filled the room. This time, cold prickling did not inch along her arms. A tall man, dressed in black with long blond hair, walked in from one of the corners.
“Make your words brief. I have much to attend to.” The Master stalked towards her with his hands behind his back. That same massive sword hung from his hip.
“Yes, my lord. I believe I have discovered the reason behind my illness — the reason why I am behind in my studies.”
He gave her an indifferent expression. Those emerald eyes pierced into her soul, causing the vine of dread to shoot forth more thorns.
Come on, make this believable. Don’t let Arnya’s death be wasted.
“I love him.” She used her chin to indicate Jerricoh, clamping her eyes shut. “I cannot bear the way you treat him.”
Tascana felt the burning of Jerricoh’s eyes upon her, but she had to do this. All she could think of was the look on Arnya’s face. All those hints and expressions leading up to her sudden death. The dallest believed a missing piece waited for Tascana somewhere. Keeping The Master distracted from her actual train of thought was the only way to prevent him from guessing on that missing piece.
A deep, dark laughter echoed off the metal reliefs. The Master planted his fists on his hips. After a minute or two, he stepped close and grabbed a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. “Your callous heart is incapable of love. I have seen it.”
The Master leaned in close enough for her to feel the moisture of his breath on her face. She clenched her hands against her chest to keep from resisting him. “You have watched my eyes! You know how often I gaze at him!”
Sir sucked out of her lungs. Clawing at her throat, she flashed her eyes up to him. He released his grip. As she hit the ground, air returned to her and she gasped in as much as she could.
“Yes, I have seen you watch him.”
“I want to be an apprentice of magic.” She gasped for the breath to keep her tone even. “I have wanted nothing more since finding those scrolls in Gaulden Forest.”
“Yes, I know! Get on with your point, and stop wasting my time.” He walked in a circle around her.
“Spare him from your hand, and my soul will be able to bear the burden you desire.”
The Master stopped pacing.
“Please, my lord. He suffers so much, and yet his loyalty never wavers. I have never seen such strength in a man. Not even in my own father.”
He knelt beside her. Taking her firmly by the chin, he pulled her face towards his. “Do you remember the punishment for lying in my kingdom?”
“I will prove my words.” She shook under his grip. “Spare him from your hand for
an allotted time. I’ll prove the potential you see in me.”
“And if you fail?”
He tightened the hold on her jaw. She screamed, digging her fingers in to his forearm. Slamming her into the ground, he released her jaw then grabbed the back of her head. He angled her face towards Jerricoh.
“You expect me to believe he is worth this to you?” His voice roared like the call of a dragon, raw and inhuman.
Her mouth throbbed. The strain of her hair pulling away from her scalp caused her vision to tunnel into a fuzzy gray. In the center of the haze stood a wide-eyed man with black hair.
“He is.” She struggled to choke out the simple phrase.
The tightness lessened and she fell to the ground. Cool stone pressed against her cheek and she relished the sensation for the full three second delay until The Master yanked her to her feet by her shoulder. He gripped her other arm and pulled her nose to nose with him.
His eyes traced the edges of her face. “If you’re lying to me, I will remove ever strand of that luscious hair by the roots.”
“I have never doubted your strength.”
Those piercing eyes bore into her, unblinking. “Only my intelligence, yes?”
She swallowed. “How could someone of your power lack wisdom?”
“You have thirty days.” He dropped her arms.
She stumbled backwards. “Thank you.”
“If for any reason you disappoint me, I will not hesitate to reprimand your failure. Regardless of time passed.”
“I understand.”
His eyes swept from her face to the floor and back. “That dress certainly suits you.”
“I am learning to appreciate it.”
He snarled his face into a grin. Looking past her, he spoke to Jerricoh. “Return her to her studies.”
A moment later, she felt Jerricoh’s hand under her arm. “This way.”
Tascana bowed a nod of respect to The Master. “I will prove myself to you.”
Jerricoh gave her the slightest tug as he guided her to the rear of the room. The black walls shrank into a space made of stone. He gave her another pull as they walked into the hall.
“What were you thinking?” His whisper barely pushed beyond the grinding of his teeth.
“Thank you for taking me to see him.” She kept her voice at normal volume, fully sensing The Master watching them. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. It was not my intention to embarrass you. But I did ask you to leave before he arrived.”
Under her arm, he clenched his hand into a fist before pulling it to his side. “That was some display you offered.”
Good, hopefully he knew it was in his best interest to play along.
“I never intended for you to hear any of that.” She fidgeted with her fingers to add to the effect. “I wanted it to be a private request.”
“Nothing in these walls is private.”
“I know that now.”
“So why the pretense?”
“I was afraid you might try to stop me.”
“It’s your consequences. Not mine.”
“Thank you, all the same.”
He continued walking in silence. After taking her back to the library, he pointed to her usual spot as he disappeared between rows of books. He returned a short while later, carrying a volume as thick and heavy as the one she finished.
“Here is your next level of study.”
“Will you sit with me?”
His eyes narrowed, turning almost white.
“I haven’t mastered healing myself.” She made it a point to avoid this gaze. “You are far more skilled at it. The less nausea I deal with, the more reading I can handle.”
Daring to believe in a glimmer of hope, she chanced a glance up at him. A few strands of color came back into his irises.
“Open the book and start reading. When your illness returns, I will teach you how to heal yourself.”
Nodding, she turned to the first page. As with the previous book, this one came with a voice reciting the words along with her in her head. That siren song pulling her to read one more line. Then, as soon as she read the full spell, that sensation of pressure came in. The power squeezing into her. Like a pillow crammed too full of feathers, she started to sense an overflow leaking out. Small fluffs of herself getting lost in the process. One of those lost feathers had caused her to want to kill Arnya within moments of finding her. Somehow, Tascana managed to pull back, but for how much longer? Would this book take her even further down that path?
By the time she reached the bottom of the first page, her cheeks started to prickle. The feeling of hot oil slithered down her throat. She paused to take a deep breath.
“Breathe deeper and hold it in.” He took her hand. “You need to feel it from here, drawing into yourself.”
She nodded, following his instructions. The feeling in her gut lessened only slightly. She took another breath and tried again. A cough quickly turned into a gag.
“What are you drawing from?” He tightened the hold on her hand.
“I’m just trying to hold it back.”
“That’s not enough. You must draw from the strength around you. This entire castle is bathed in the power of The Master. Draw from him.”
Tascana gagged. Not from the nausea, but from his words. He wanted her to imagine drawing that halfling into herself? With a growl of frustration, Jerricoh put a hand on the back of her head. The discomfort along her face and throat disappeared. She knew she needed to thank him, but now that she knew where the healing came from, she couldn’t.
“Continue reading.” Jerricoh settled back into his chair.
She nodded.
Again, by the end of the page, she needed help. And again, she needed him to do the healing for her. They repeated the cycle until Rothar came to announce dinner.
The following morning, Jerricoh’s eyes had returned to their usual deep blue. Tascana tried her best to follow his instructions on how to heal herself, but each attempt caused the feeling of slugs to worm along the vine. By mid afternoon, his temper flared.
“You’re not even trying!” Jerricoh tossed her hand aside and pressed his fingers into the back of her head. “There.”
“I’m reading faster than before. It hurts more than ever.” She put her palm to her forehead as a headache started to form. “At least I’m making progress.”
He gave a grunt of annoyance as he gripped the arms of his chair. “And how much of your progress is the result of my efforts?”
“You’re right. Thank you for helping. I couldn’t do this without you.” The plea for mercy in her voice surprised even herself.
“I would suggest getting you some air but that didn’t help much the last time.”
Was he giving her a choice again? Offering something beyond what was required of him? “The last time we went, I suffered from a broken spirit. I feel less broken now.”
The muscles in his neck stiffened, causing his jaw to grind. “As soon as you learn how to heal yourself, I will take you to see the unicorns.”
“I will do my best.”
He gave a curt nod then gestured to the book. Nodding, she turned the next page. She was running out of time to prove her word to The Master. Claiming Jerricoh’s torture as the source of her illness was a feeble attempt to trick the halfling. She had to learn how to calm her stomach. Had to learn how to want to choose to pull his power into herself.
She took a hard swallow and read the first line. There had to be a reason why Arnya believed in taking a risk for hope once more. Was there something in these books that caused her to hold so firmly to the idea that the Fates had left out a key piece? Moving on to the next line, Tascana’s mind tried to flash to home, to her parents, to that perfect hideaway in Gaulden Forest. Anything to remind her of something other than this miserable existence.
What if that’s it? What if the reason why she kept getting sick was because of how much she wanted to leave? After all, she wanted to be a master of magic before all
this insanity started. She wanted to get stronger. Her desire to master the craft helped her to push through difficult moments when spells went wrong.
Taking a deep breath, she chose to believe that the book sitting before was what she always wanted. The living conditions were a little different than what she imagined back in Gaulden Forest, but did that really matter? As long as she did what she was told, when she was told, neither Jerricoh nor The Master had any reason to discipline her.
I want this.
She read through the next three lines without a hint of discomfort.
I need this.
Line after line, she read straight through to the bottom of the page.
She reached to turn it. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
Jerricoh didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. As far as he was concerned, she had learned how to successfully heal herself. Which wasn’t true, and she wasn’t going to correct him. He didn’t need to know that she may have found a missing element in The Master’s plan. That halfling was so full of himself, so sure of his strength and power, it never occurred to him to imagine someone choosing to enjoy their imprisonment. And if she chose to enjoy it, then it might free her mind to find another missing piece in his plan.
CHAPTER 13
“So you’re telling me that snake thing was a griffin?” Arkose dumped a few trickles of water out of his boot.
Azredan scraped a line of mud off his pant leg. “Most likely it was mutated from the griffins, similar to how the hawk men were changed.”
Jurren listened to the two of them talk. Not that he really wanted to be part of the conversation, so much as he wanted to hear the answers Azredan gave. They had made it to the far side of the swamp. Another day of searching brought them to the hidden door in the stone wall leading into the corridors of the labyrinth. Now they were taking a much needed rest, trusting in the assurances of Azredan that the hawk men did not frequent this particular place.
However, the rest allowed Jurren the opportunity to relive some of the conversations from the past couple days. He was still angry.