The Sorceress's Apprentice

by Joshua Jackson

  “You are going to dribble the acid across the cuffs here and here, on both sides.” She indicated the inside and outside of her shackles. “The acid will hopefully eat away the iron and free me.”

  “Hopefully?”

  “If the Mistress enchanted the cuffs against acid, we could be in trouble.”

  I nodded and unstopped the vial, nearly vomiting as the smell of rotten eggs hit like a dragon. I was about to pour the acid on the cuffs when a horrifying thought struck me.

  “If this burns through iron, what does it do to flesh?” I asked.

  “I would strongly recommend you do not get it on your skin,” Athala responded.

  “What about you?” I pressed. “When this burns through the cuffs—”

  “I will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “I. Will. Be. Fine,” Athala’s tone was glacial. “Now do it; we do not have all night.”

  I swallowed and nodded. Carefully, I dribbled out the acid along the inline of the cuffs, trying to not get any on her skin. It hissed and bubbled, adding the acrid smell of charring metal to the air. Quickly it ate away at the metal, soon cutting it clean through.

  “Quickly, the other side,” Athala ordered.

  I repeated the procedure. Within moments, the acid had burned through the iron and I ripped off the top half, tossing it to the ground. Athala quickly pulled her left arm out and dunked it in the bucket.

  “Next one, now,” Athala ordered sharply.

  “Don’t you need a minute?”

  “NOW!”

  I sighed and repeated the process for Athala’s right arm. As soon as her arm was free, she plunged it into the water. For a brief moment, her irises flashed red and she took in a deep breath, as if she’d been holding it the whole time.

  “In the middle cupboard is a jar with a green gel and bandages. Bring them,” she ordered.

  I retrieved the items, worrying about what had just happened. Those red eyes were disconcerting. But by the time I got back, Athala’s eyes had returned to their normal blue.

  The sorceress withdrew her arms from the water and I nearly vomited again. Twin ugly red lines ran the length of each forearm, bubbling and blistering. Bits of dead skin and tissue dangled off her arms, which in some places were burned down to muscle. The pain must have been excruciating but Athala seemed indifferent. I noticed she was sweating but that was it; no cries of pain, not even a wince.

  “So magic back?” I asked.

  “Ya,” Athala nodded.

  “Excellent,” I, unsure if I meant it or not. “So do you voodoo, heal yourself, and let’s get out of here.”

  “It is not quite that simple,” Athala rolled her eyes. “For starters, I cannot simply heal myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are no healing spells.”

  I just stared at her for a moment. “What do you mean there are no healing spells?”

  “Just that,” Athala replied. “Magic can do many things but it cannot heal. Believe me, I have tried to crack the healing code but it simply cannot be done. Is that a problem?”

  “No, well, kind of,” I admitted. “I was kind of counting on you healing us if things ever got too bad.”

  “I am a skilled enough healer using more conventional arts.” Athala began applying the green gel to her burns.

  I was about to say something sarcastic but noted her scarred body. “Lots of practice” she had said when we met. She must have been patching herself up for years. No wonder she could take the acid burns without so much as flinching.

  “What did she do to you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Athala paused for a moment, locking cold, hard eyes on me. “What do you care Alkite?” she flatly demanded. “Stand guard or something.”

  “As you wish, sunshine.”

  Athala shot me a rather satisfying glare as I turned to the door.

  I stood idly by the door for several minutes while the sorceress finished up whatever it was she needed to do. I was about to see if she needed help with anything when a light moving at the far end of the hall caught my eye. Someone was coming.

  “Athala!” I hissed, slipping back into the lab, “someone is coming! And for the Trinity’s sake, put some clothes on!”

  “I do not have spare clothes lying around my lab.” Athala was still nude with a pack slung over one shoulder and white bandages covering her arms.

  “Put these on and quick.” I tossed her my spare clothes. Athala hastily changed and the clothes fit although loosely, much to my irritation. A woman should not be able to fit my clothes; neither should she be taller than me. Athala was both, albeit only by a couple centimeters.

  “I will freeze in this,” she muttered.

  “And in your skin?”

  “We will need to get proper clothes,” she remarked, glaring.

  “Worry about that later,” I retorted. I drew my scimitar and hefted the shield. My side still hurt terribly but I felt the adrenaline begin flowing as the rush of battle set in. Behind me, Athala drew the dagger.

  The door gently pushed open and someone stepped inside. I acted on instinct, leaping forward and slamming the intruder against the stone wall, eliciting a feminine yelp. I stayed my blade mere millimeters from a rather surprised young woman’s chest.

  “Please do not hurt me!” squeaked the young woman, about my age, terrified blue eyes pleading.

  “Elske!” Athala exclaimed from behind. “What are you doing here?”

  “General Fulco found the search party slain and has the castle looking for the intruders,” Elske explained hastily. “He has the whole garrison up.”

  “Fantastic,” I muttered but Athala waved me off.

  “I have a plan,” she said.

  She advanced on Elske, who shrank back from the sorceress. “Please mistress, no! I beg you, no!” she shrieked in terror. “Please, sir knight, save me!” Suddenly Elske was clinging to me like a shield.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her.

  “I am getting my power,” Athala answered. “Out of my way!”

  “How do you get your power?” I didn’t move. Something was very wrong.

  “How do you think, Alkite?” Athala demanded, boring into me with those intense sky-blue orbs. “Magic is powered by life force and spells require too much life force for the caster to use so we must take the life force of others to power our spells.”

  “But if you take—”

  “Then ya, they die.”

  “But that’s murder!”

  “Magic is murder,” Athala snarled. “If we want to get out of this alive, I need her life force to teleport us away.”

  I looked down at the cowering Elske. Was her life worth more than Ariadne’s? Saving Ari was why I was here, after all. Was a servant worth risking Ariadne?

  Shala’s image popped into my mind. She was just a servant too and she had risked her life for me, while I had left her alone like a coward. I wasn’t going to do that again.

  “No,” I told Athala. “We are not murdering people for your power.”

  Athala stared, dumbfounded. “Are you insane?” she demanded. “Without my magic, the Mistress will annihilate us!”

  “We’ll figure out another way,” I resolutely returned. “We are not murdering people and that is final!”

  “I do not take orders from you!” Athala moved to step around me.

  My sword was up in an instant, tip pressed against the sorceress’s neck. She glanced down at it, a derisive sneer touching her lips and irises turned blood red.

  “Are you seriously threatening me?” she challenged, looking almost amused. “With all my power restored?”

  Just because I spared your life once doesn’t mean I will a second time,” I warned, digging the tip into my throat.

  “I could destroy you with a word,” she retorted with a growl.

  “Hard to speak that word if I slit your throat,” I countered, matching my growl.

  For a tense moment,
we stared each other down. I hoped I didn’t look as scared as I felt. The scene of the Rabshakeh burning kept playing in my mind. A word and I was toast, literally, and that was assuming she needed to say anything! In truth, I had no knowledge of the extent of her power and if I had misjudged the sorceress…

  “You do not understand,” she tried to be more tactful. “If I do not take her power, it will take us weeks to reach the Eisenpalast, assuming we survive long enough to get there at all.”

  “Then it takes weeks,” I stubbornly refused.

  “You would sacrifice the princess for your morals?” she demanded incredulously.

  “Ari would never forgive me or herself if this was the price of her freedom,” I countered. “Some prices are too high.”

  “No price is too high for what,” she snarled angrily. “Her power is our only way out.”

  “We’ll find another,” I shook his head. “Stand down.”

  “You will risk everything for someone you have never met? A servant?” she sneered. “What is her life compared to yours? To mine? To your princess’s?”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I answered resolutely.

  “You are an idiot, gebraten.”

  “I’d rather be a righteous idiot,” I calmly replied, “than an amoral sage.”

  “You know you have doomed us,” she stated angrily.

  “Well, we’re not dead yet, sunshine,” I said with an optimistic grin.

  Of course, at that moment, heavy boots sounded in the stairs outside.

  “Give it a few minutes,” Athala glowered.

  Chapter 16-Athala

  If I didn’t need him alive, I would’ve killed him then and there. How dare that insolent, little Alkite threaten me? Did he not know what I could do to him? He’d risk his life, his princess, everything for a servant? What kind of idiot had I taken up with? Oh how I would enjoy the look of horror and betrayal on his face when I handed him over to the Mistress!

  Not that any of that mattered. Zimri didn’t wait for the soldiers to come to us. He bolted from the lab into the stairwell, me right behind him. Judging from the loose formation of the five soldiers, they weren’t expecting anyone. For all the Alkite’s qualities that infuriated me, he was a quick learner. Darting forward, he targeted the centermost soldier, deftly evading a spear thrust and batting away another from the left soldier. He squeezed between, getting behind them. Spinning 180 degrees, he swung his scimitar clean through the center soldier’s neck.

  “WAIT!” I shouted, an idea forming. “Do not kill them! Just disable them!”

  “ARE YOU INSANE?” he shot back, already turning to engage the two on the left. “They’re hard enough to simply kill!”

  “Go for the back of the knees! Cut the tendons!” I instructed. “I need them alive!”

  I heard him give a growl of irritation, but he didn’t go for their throats. Meanwhile, I decided to distract two on the right. I couldn’t engage them with only a knife, but I could keep them off Zimri’s back for the moment. Drawing the knife, I threw it at the nearest one.

  I am no knife thrower and the knife wasn’t designed for that. But it banged off the helmet, which did the trick. Both turned and started towards me.

  In the meantime, Zimri had managed disable one of them and was working on the second. He caught a spear thrust on his shield, pushed back, and pinned the weapon against the soldier’s shield. Taking advantage of the opening, he slashed open the soldier’s throat.

  “I said not to kill them!” I railed at him.

  “I’m too busy trying to stay alive!” he retorted, racing down to intercept the two soldiers bearing down on me. Perceiving him to be the more immediate threat, they turned and started up at him. “And keeping you alive too!” he added with snarl, slamming down his sword across the shaft of the nearest spear.

  I hopped back out of the way as the two soldiers turned to attack him. Zimri pranced to his left, going on the defensive for the first time. The soldiers followed him, away from me, as he started up the stairs, fending off the single working spear. Taking advantage of the opening he had provided, I raced forward and grabbed both bare necks.

  “TOD!” I cried, syphoning their life force.

  “Whoa!” Zimri scrambled back, a satisfyingly horrified look on his face.

  I ignored him and walked up to the downed soldier, who uselessly started to jab at me. Grabbing the spear, I wrenched it out of his hand, tossing it aside, wincing as the torque irritated my burns. Reaching past the shield, I wrapped my hand around his throat and said, “Tod.” Another rush of life force filled me.

  “What was that?” Zimri demanded.

  “The tod-spell,” I answered simply. “It is the most basic of killing spells, the one that is used to draw the life force from others and charge my magic. From these soldiers, it is not much and is not particularly clean but it is enough for now.”

  “Enough to teleport us to the Eisenpalast?”

  “Is that another attempt at humor?” I questioned archly. “You do not seem too bothered by me taking their life force.”

  “It’s as creepy as Adamah’s court,” he admitted, “But since I was planning on killing them anyway, I suppose their lives might as well go to fuel your magic. At least it’s humane.”

  “I suppose,” I said, another idea coming into my mind. “Get into their armor.”

  “What?”

  “Get into their armor. I know how we are going to get out of here,” I declared. “Also, put on their undergarments; you will need them to keep warm.”

  Zimri frowned but nodded. In a few minutes, we were armored.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Zimri grumbled. He had managed to get the breastplate over his mail coat but he more waddled than walked. If we had to fight, it was not going to end well. Both of us carried packs, which, along with his scimitar, would make us stand out.

  “It will work well enough,” I replied.

  “I can’t fight in this!”

  “The idea is that you do not have to fight,” I retorted. “Now, unless you have a better idea for sneaking past a thousand soldiers, let us go!”

  Just then I remembered Elske, who was watching us. Before Zimri could stop me, I whirled around and said, “Schlafe!” Instantly, the servant collapsed the floor.

  “What did you do?” Zimri thundered, leveling the spear at my throat.

  “Relax, it is just a sleeping spell,” I soothed. “She is alive, if you wish to check. I barely had enough power for that so she shall wake in a couple of hours.”

  Zimri looked over, noted the rise and fall of Elske’s chest, and relaxed. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t do that again.”

  “And you,” I shot back under my breath, “do not shout again, unless you wish to alert the whole castle we are down here. Now let us go.” Not waiting for him, I started immediately up the stairs.

  We made it to the top of the stairs before being stopped, running into another patrol guarding the entry hall to the Olympic Tower. I sensed Zimri tense beside me, hand starting to move to his sword. Covertly, I blocked his hand and we continued on as the soldiers ignored us.

  The courtyard was crowded. Clearly Fulco sensed something was seriously wrong and had practically the entire garrison searching for us. There were about a hundred soldiers marching around the courtyard, some going into the Olympic Tower, some coming from there, others going to and from the upper castle. We melted into the crowd.

  I knew the standard soldier would ignore us but an officer would not. Fervently I hoped there weren’t any here. Meanwhile, I could hear Zimri hyperventilating beside me and more than once, I had to quietly put a restraining hand on him to keep him from attacking. We made it across the courtyard and escaped into one of the connecting towers, which was thankfully empty.

  “How are you so calm?” Zimri burst out. “How did we get past them?”

  “Act like you belong and people will assume you do,” I answered with a great deal more calm than I actuall
y felt.

  “That works? Even though we are so obviously out of place?”

  “It is remarkable how often people miss the obvious,” I observed. “It helps they are conditioned not to think creatively.”

  “Conditioned?”

  “The Mistress breaks their minds completely to her will,” I explained. “All memory, identity, individuality, creative thought is gone replaced by absolute obedience to the Mistress’s commands and those to whom she gives authority.”

  Zimri shuddered at that. “So that’s why they don’t feel pain?”

  I had never thought of that before. “I do not know if they feel pain or not. But it would not matter if they did; their obedience to their orders would compel them to continue until they die.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “It is efficient,” I rebutted. “After all, thinking soldiers tend to give up too easily when facing difficulty and to rebel.”

  “Not if you treat them right,” Zimri shook his head. “Can the spell be reversed?”

  “No spell can be reversed that I know of,” I answered with a shrug. “Of course I have never tried. Why would I ever want to?”

  “The fact you can’t understand why something this…evil would need to be undone is disturbing.”

  “You will have to get over it,” I snorted. “The point is we should be safe unless we run into an officer. Now quiet.”

  We slipped into the upper castle, winding our way through soldiers and dilapidated buildings. I noted with irritation I had not been able to full restore the castle to her proper glory before the Mistress disowned me. While we had little use for the customs offices and many of the warehouses, I had had plans to transfer all the administrative functions of Gletcher here. Now, I would never get the opportunity.

  “There is the gate,” I pointed out to Zimri. It was just over a hundred meters away. We were practically home free and I started to relax, which is of course when everything went wrong.

  “You there, stop!” a voice stopped us in our tracks. “Where are you going?”

  “Lieutenant Anselm ordered us assist in guarding the gate,” I tried to bluff, using the flat, emotionless voice that broken soldiers spoke in.