The Wizard's Apprentice

by Janice Ayre

  ***

  Zebulon backtracked his route in search of Brock. He checked in around the dry river beds and looked for places where the elf could have accidentally strayed. He consulted the map. He called his name. He used spells to reveal Brock's whereabouts. All attempts failed. As he arrived back at the cottage he hoped he would find Brock there. The place was deserted, with no sign of Brock or his horse. Zebulon knew he would not be able to see well enough in the dark to make the journey back to the village because there was no defined track. There was nothing to do but wait until morning. He had instructed Uri before leaving to look for the elf and make some enquiries as to whether anyone had seen him.

  As the two riders reached Brock he recognised them as the two young men he had seen at the park when he first met Orville in the village. His fears were not calmed when Orville swung his horse around to face the newcomers.

  “I told you to stay out of sight until later,” he said to them.

  One of the young men shrugged. “We thought now that you have the elf it didn't matter,” he said.

  Realising that he had been foolish and allowed himself to be tricked, Brock tried to manoeuvre his horse past the riders.

  “Get him!” Orville yelled.

  As the man lunged for the horse it became frightened and rearing up, threw Brock off its back. The horse made good its escape but Brock was left to the mercy of the three ruffians. Brock tried to run but was knocked to the ground again.

  “You fools, now we have lost his horse!” yelled Orville. “Here put him up with me.”

  Brock was no match for the young men but he did not intend to go easily. He kicked and fought while the others cursed him and all his family. Orville finally produced some rope and Brock was bound and placed on Orville's horse. Being in such close proximity to Orville led Brock to wonder how he could ever have regarded this man as his friend.

  They rode on through the day making as much haste as possible. It was the most uncomfortable journey Brock had ever experienced. He wanted it to end and yet he feared that once they had reached their destination, Zebulon would have no hope of finding him. He trembled also as he imagined what Mustafa would be like.

  By nightfall they had reached a small dwelling built into the side of the mountain. It was not the type of place Brock would have thought a great wizard would have lived.

  “Is Mustafa here?” asked one of the men.

  “Not yet, he told me to wait for him here. He will come as soon as he can. The main thing is, we have the elf,” said Orville as he dismounted and dragged Brock off the horse.

  He untied Brock and then shoved him through the doorway. Inside was dirty and messy.

  “You pig!” exclaimed the young man who had not spoken so far. He didn't seem as wild as Orville and his companion. Brock had a fleeting thought that he might ask him for help.

  Orville grunted in displeasure at the criticism and said, “As if you live any better!”

  They all stood in the middle of the small room. Brock decided to appeal to Orville's better character, because they had exchanged confidences and Brock believed it couldn't have all been a pretence.

  “What do you want with me? I'm sure the wizard would have no use for me,” said Brock.

  All the men laughed. “You are right,” said Orville bringing his face so close to Brock's that the stench of his breath caused the elf to almost puke. “Mustafa has no use for you, and neither do we.” He jabbed his finger hard into Brock's chest and the three men laughed. “Do you know how it sickened me to pretend to be your friend? If I could have just dragged you out of the village it would have been much better. But the village is such a happy little place that any yelling and screaming would have been a problem. Don't raise any suspicions Mustafa said.”

  “Zebulon will find you and rescue me,” Brock said defiantly.

  “We want him to find us,” said one of the men.

  “You stupid little elf. We have set a trap for Zebulon and you are the bait!” Orville laughed and grabbed Brock by his shirt and began pushing him towards the corner of the room.

  “Zebulon won't be tricked!” Brock shouted and he tried to fight against Orville.

  The show of temper was all the others needed to join in the entertainment of 'teaching' the elf a lesson. They mindlessly punched him until his nose was bleeding and his eyes were so swollen he could hardly see. In pain he fell to the floor where the others left him. Tired of their game and satisfied the elf would give them no more trouble, they sat at the table to eat, drink and play cards. They did not offer Brock any food, nor could he have eaten anything had it be given to him. He was in pain from the beating the three had given him, but the greater pain was the betrayal and the knowledge of his own stupidity.

  Brock did not give up plans to look for a means to escape. All through the night, he woke from fitful sleep to see if the others were sleeping, but they always had someone sitting guard. In the morning they threw a bowl of some horrid food matter before him. It reminded Brock of the slops he used to feed the pigs on the farm. He was not going to have any, but he had not eaten since the previous morning, so he decided it would be better for him to keep his strength up. His greatest hope was that Zebulon would arrive and defeat his abductors.

  Orville had been the last one to sit guard during the night so he came out from one of the inner rooms later in the morning yawning and stretching. “I hope Mustafa gets here soon. I want to get away from here. So elf, do you think your wizard will find you today? It’s going to be a thrill to see what Mustafa does to the wizard. Zebulon won't be in any state to rescue you then.” He turned to the other two. “Wonder what Mustafa will do with the elf? Hope he doesn't just snuff out his life. What fun would that be...”

  The discussion of how terrible the punishment would be for Zebulon and Brock continued throughout the day at intervals when the three men were not sleeping, eating or drinking. The injuries Brock had sustained, the threats they continued to frighten him with, were not as terrible as the feeling Brock had that Zebulon had abandoned him. He believed that if he was going to rescue him he would have come by now. If Mustafa was truly stronger than Zebulon then maybe he preferred to sacrifice Brock to save himself. As the hours dragged on Brock became more convinced this was the reason Zebulon would not come.