The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  “A hostelry,” I replied, and without bothering to elaborate, I leaped back onto my horse and took up the lead once again.

  The spruce and pine gave way to deciduous sycamore, oak, and ash trees, which were waiting, bereft of leaves, for the coming of the short summer. These trees pressed in upon us, dark and thick, their stark branches hooked like talons against the gray sky. It was strange to see such trees so far north.

  Soon there came a strange silence. The wind suddenly died away, and even the clop of hooves and the rattle of the cartwheels seemed muffled on the cinders.

  Bryony started to sob with cold. Before Nessa could ride closer to offer her words of comfort, I turned and hissed at her to ensure her silence, placing my finger vertically against my lips.

  After another few moments, I saw through the trees a faint purple light that blinked on and off like the opening and closing of a giant eye. Finally a building came into view.

  It was a dark tower, enclosed by a high circular wall complete with battlements and a portcullis that could only be reached by means of a drawbridge crossing a wide moat.

  “Is this what you call a hostelry?” Nessa demanded angrily. “I’d hoped for an inn with welcoming fires and clean rooms where we might take refuge from the blizzard and sleep in comfort. My sisters are half frozen to death. What is this forbidding tower? It seems to have been constructed by other than human hands.”

  The tower itself was about nine stories high and the size of three or more large farmhouses combined. It was built of a dark purple stone, and the whole structure gleamed as rivulets of water cascaded down its sides. For although snow was still falling heavily from the darkening sky, all around the tower the ground was completely clear. Both walls and ground were steaming, as if some huge fire burned deep within the earth. The fortress had been constructed over a hot spot, an underground geyser that heated the stones of the tower.

  I had spent a night in this tower almost forty years earlier, on my way to sell a slave and meet my legal obligations under the law of bindos. However, at that time it had been ruled by someone who was now dead, slain by Nunc, the high mage who was the tower’s present incumbent.

  I smiled at Nessa. “It is not a hostelry for your kind. But beggars can’t be choosers. This is a kulad, a fortress built by my people. Better stay close to me if you wish to survive the night.”

  As we moved forward, I heard gasps from the two younger sisters, and the portcullis began to rise. The sound of chain and ratchet could clearly be heard, but there was no gatekeeper, and nobody came out to either greet or challenge us.

  I guided the purrai across the circular inner courtyard toward stables with fresh straw for the horses and a lean-to under which the cart could be sheltered from the worst of the elements. Then I led them through a narrow door to a spiral staircase that rose widdershins up and up, into the dark inner tower. Every ten steps there were torches set within iron holders bolted to the wall. Their yellow flames danced and flickered, although the air was perfectly still, but they were never enough to dispel the shadows that gathered above them.

  “I don’t like this place,” Bryony whimpered. “I can feel eyes watching us. Horrible things hiding in the darkness!”

  “There’s nothing here to worry about,” Nessa told her. “It’s just your imagination.”

  “But there could be insects and mice,” Susan complained. Succulent she might be, but that purra’s voice was starting to irritate me.

  We began to climb the stairs. Wooden doors were spaced at intervals, but then we came to three set quite close together, so I chose these for the sisters. Each had a rusty iron lock into which was inserted a large steel key.

  “Here’s a warm bedroom for each of you,” I said, my tail rising in annoyance. “You’ll be safe enough in here if I lock the doors. Try to sleep. There’s no supper, but breakfast will be served soon after dawn.”

  “Why can’t we all just share a room?” demanded Nessa.

  “Too small,” I said, opening the first of the doors. “And each has only one bed. Young growing girls like you need your rest.”

  Nessa looked in, and I saw the dismay on her face. It was indeed small and cramped.

  “It’s dirty in there,” Susan complained with a pout.

  Bryony began to cry softly. “I want to stay with Nessa! I want to stay with Nessa!”

  “Please allow Bryony to share my room,” said Nessa, making one last desperate appeal. “She’s too young to be left alone in a place like this—”

  But I paid no heed and, twisting my face into a savage expression, pushed her roughly inside. Next I slammed the door behind her and twisted the key to lock her in. I quickly did the same for each of her sisters.

  But although cruelty is in my nature, it was not this that prompted my behavior now. I had done it for their own safety, confining each separately to mark them as three distinct items of my property, according to the customs of my people.

  I’d had no choice but to bring the three girls here—they would soon have died of exposure outside. We were now well beyond the last human habitation, and this was the only refuge that was available. It was a dangerous place, even for a haizda mage, and I could not be sure of a welcome. Now, as was customary, I had to ascend to the top of the tower to make obeisance to its lord, Nunc. He had a formidable reputation and ruled by fear.

  He was a high mage, the most powerful rank of Kobalos mage. As outsiders who dwell within our own individual territories far from Valkarky, we haizdas do not fit within that hierarchy of mages. I do not fear a high mage but would if necessary make obeisance to him. If I were forced to fight him, I was not sure what the outcome would be. Nevertheless, I was curious to meet Nunc in the flesh and see if he lived up to the stories told about him. It was said that, in a raid against a human kingdom, he had devoured the monarch’s seven sons in front of him before tearing off that unfortunate king’s head with his bare hands.

  As I climbed the spiral staircase, the air grew warmer and more humid and my discomfort grew. Such was the peculiarity of the high mages that they sometimes actively sought out a harsh environment in order to prove their hardiness.

  Even though I was now within sight of the top landing, no guards were visible. Yet my tail told me that many of Nunc’s servants were nearby, in the subterranean areas beneath the tower.

  There was only one door on the landing, and I pushed it open. I found myself in the anteroom. This was a bathhouse where Nunc’s servants and guests could cleanse their bodies before proceeding farther. However, I’d never seen one quite like this. In such rooms, the water was often uncomfortably warm, but the temperature here was extreme. The air was full of suffocating steam, and I immediately began to struggle for breath.

  The entire room, but for a perimeter strip of stone and a narrow arch that provided a bridge to the far side, was given over to a huge sunken bath filled with water so hot that it was generating steam as I watched.

  Nunc, the high mage, was immersed in the bath up to his armpits, but his knees were visible, and upon each he rested a huge hairy hand. His face was very full, and shaved according to the custom of Kobalos mages. The short stubble was black but for a long gray patch low on his forehead—a dueling scar of which he was very proud.

  Although Nunc was huge—half as big again as me—I felt not in the least threatened by his bulk. Size was relative, and as a haizda I could, in a moment, blow myself up to equal his.

  “Enter the water, guest,” Nunc boomed. “My house is your house. My purrai are your purrai.”

  Nunc had addressed me in Baelic, the ordinary informal tongue of the Kobalos people; it was years since I’d last heard it, and the language sounded strange, almost as if the time I’d spent near humans had made my own people now seem alien. Immediately it made me wary. I had never met Nunc before, and for a Kobalos to speak to a stranger in Baelic implied warmth and friendship, but, worryingly, it was frequently used before offering to trade. I had nothing I could barter.

/>   I bowed and, after removing my belt and saber, which I carefully positioned against the wall, undid the thirteen buttons of my coat and hung it on one of the hooks on the back of the door. It was somewhat heavier than usual, for the lining contained the three keys to the girls’ rooms. Next I removed the diagonal straps and scabbards with the two short blades and set them down next to the saber.

  Finally I tugged off my boots and prepared to enter the water. It would take great concentration and willpower for me to endure such a boiling temperature, but I had to immerse myself, if only for a short time, in order to comply with the customs of hospitality. I must not give Nunc an excuse to act against me in any way.

  The water was very uncomfortable, but I slid in, forcing myself to put up with it. However, other thoughts were already disturbing my concentration. I remembered Nunc’s greeting and was suddenly dismayed by his reference to purrai.

  Purrai are human females, usually bred within the skleech pens of Valkarky—sometimes for slavery but mostly to be eaten. The term can also apply to human females such as the three sisters. That Nunc should keep purrai in this tower was of little surprise, but to offer them so promptly to a guest showed disrespect. This, in conjunction with his use of Baelic, suggested that he did indeed wish to trade.

  Nunc’s next words immediately confirmed that I was right.

  “I offer you my three most prized purrai, but I require something of you in exchange—a trade. You must give your own purrai into my possession.”

  “With the utmost courtesy and respect, I must decline your generous offer,” I told him. “I am bound by a promise I made. I must deliver my three purrai to their relatives in Pwodente.”

  Nunc growled deep in his throat. “Any promise made to a human has no validity here. As high mage, I require your obedience in this matter. I need the youngest child this night at the feast of Talkus the Unborn. Such young tasty flesh will grace the occasion.”

  “Although I respect your position, lord,” I said, keeping my voice polite and deferential, “I owe you no personal allegiance. The purrai are my property, and I have the natural right under Kobalos law to dispose of them as I think fit. So I am sorry, but I must reject your offer to trade.”

  It was true that I had to respect Nunc as a high mage, but I was perfectly entitled to refuse his demand. There the matter should have ended, but no sooner had I spoken than I felt a sudden sharp pain in my left leg, close to the ankle. It was as if someone had pricked my flesh with the point of a blade and twisted.

  Instinctively, I reached down and touched something that eluded my grasp and undulated quickly away through the water.

  I cursed my own stupidity, realizing that I’d been bitten by some kind of water snake. The heat and the steam had dulled my senses; otherwise I would have become aware of the creature upon entering the anteroom. Had I raised my tail, I would have detected it for sure, but such an act was unthinkable; it would have been a serious breach of etiquette and a great insult to my host. I had never expected such treachery.

  Fearing for my life, I turned and tried to clamber out of the pool.

  But it was already too late. I slipped back into the water, aware that my body was rapidly becoming numb. It was already difficult to breathe, and my chest was growing even tighter.

  “You are dying,” said Nunc, his deep voice booming back from the walls. “You should have accepted my offer. Now your purrai are mine, and I need give you nothing in return.”

  Shuddering with pain, I fell into an intense darkness. I was not afraid to die, but I felt deep shame at having been bested so easily. I had made a mistake in underestimating Nunc. Skaiium had crept up on me almost without my noticing. I truly had grown soft. I was no longer fit to be a haizda mage.

  CHAPTER IV

  THE KOBALOS BEAST

  YOU must be brave, Nessa, I told myself. If ever you needed courage, you need it now—for your own sake, but most of all for your sisters!

  I had been locked in a small oblong room without a window. There was the stub of a candle impaled upon a rusty spike protruding from the wall, and by its flickering light I examined my surroundings.

  My heart sank in dismay for in truth this was nothing more than a cell. There was no furniture, just a heap of dirty straw in the far corner.

  I could see dark stains on the stone walls, as if some liquid had been splashed there, and I feared it might be blood. I shivered and looked more closely, and immediately felt heat radiating from the wall. At least I wouldn’t be cold. That was a small comfort.

  A hole in the floor with a rusty metal lid served to meet the needs of bodily functions, and there was a pitcher of water but no food.

  For a moment, as I took stock of my surroundings, I felt despair, but that was quickly replaced by anger.

  Why should my life be over before it had properly begun?

  The deep sorrow that I had experienced at the sudden death of my father had transformed itself into a permanent ache of loss. I loved him, but I was so angry. Had he not thought of my feelings? What had he said in his letter?

  “Had it ever proved necessary, I would have sacrificed myself for you. Now you must sacrifice yourself for your younger sisters.”

  How presumptuous of him to command me to sacrifice myself for my sisters! How easy it was for him to say that! That sacrifice had never been demanded of him. He was now dead and free of this awful world. My pain was only just starting. I would become a slave of these beasts. I would never have a family of my own—no husband and children for me.

  I checked the door, but there was no handle on the inside, and I’d heard the key turn in the lock. There was no way out of the cell. I began to cry softly, but it was not self-pity that replaced my anger. I wept for my sisters—poor Bryony would be terrified, confined in a cell like this alone.

  How quickly we’d fallen from relative happiness to this state of misery. Our mother had died giving birth to Bryony, but since that sad day Father had done his very best, providing for us and bravely trading with the Kobalos beast to keep it at bay. We’d had little contact with the nearby village and other farms, but enough to know of the beast’s reign of terror and to realize that we had been spared the fear and suffering that others in the neighborhood had endured.

  I thought I could hear Bryony crying in the next cell, but when I placed my ear to the wall, there was only silence.

  I called her name as loudly as I could, and then a second time. After each attempt I listened carefully with my ear against the wall. But there was no reply that I could hear.

  After a while my candle guttered out, plunging me into darkness, and again I thought of Bryony. No doubt her candle would do the same, and she’d be terrified. She had always been afraid of the dark.

  Eventually I fell asleep but was suddenly awakened by the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door groaned on its hinges and slowly opened, filling the cell with yellow light.

  I fully expected to see Slither, and I tensed, preparing myself for whatever happened next. However, it was a young woman, who was standing in the open doorway brandishing a torch and beckoning me with her other arm.

  She was the first human, apart from my sisters, that I had seen since leaving the farm. “Oh, thank you!” I cried. “My sisters—” But my smile of relief froze on my face when I saw the fierce expression in her eyes. She was not here as a friend.

  Her bare arms were covered in scars. Some were a livid red and quite recent. Four other women stood behind her; two of them had multiple scars on their cheeks. Why should that be? Did they fight among themselves? I wondered. Three were carrying cudgels; the fourth brandished a whip. They were all quite young, but their eyes were full of anger, and their faces were very pale, as if they’d never seen sunlight.

  I rose to my feet. The woman beckoned again and, when I hesitated, entered the cell, seized my forearm, and dragged me roughly toward the door. I screamed out and tried to resist, but she was too strong.

  Where were they taking me?
I couldn’t allow myself to be separated from my sisters. “Susan! Bryony!” I yelled.

  Outside, both arms were twisted behind my back and I was forced up the steep flight of stone steps until, right at the very top, we came to a doorway. The women thrust me through it violently, making me lose my balance and sprawl onto the floor, which was smooth and warm to the touch. It was clad with ornate tiles, each depicting some exotic creature that could only have come from the artist’s imagination. It was hot and humid within, the air full of steam, but ahead, as I got up onto my knees, I saw a huge bath sunk into the floor.

  Once they’d pushed me inside, the women retreated back down the steps, first locking the door behind them. I climbed to my feet and stood with trembling legs, wondering what was going to happen next. Why had I been brought here?

  Peering through the steam, I saw a narrow bridge leading over the bath to the foot of a great rusty iron door on the other side. Then I heard someone cry out in pain. That door filled me with foreboding. What lay beyond it?

  My trembling became more violent and my heart sank, for it had sounded like Susan. Surely it couldn’t be her? I hadn’t heard a thing from my room. But when the cry came again, I was certain. What was happening to her? Someone was hurting her. The women must have dragged her up here too.

  But why, when the beast had promised to protect us? Father had always claimed that he was a creature of his word, that he believed in what he called trade and always honored what he had promised. If that was so, how could he allow this to happen? Or could it be that he had lied—that he was the one inflicting the pain?

  I walked along the edge of the bath. Then I halted and, for the first time, noticed the black coat on the hook behind the door and, beneath it, resting against the wall, the belt and the saber that had once belonged to my father. Was Slither now on the other side of that door, hurting Susan?

  I had to do something. My eyes skittered hither and thither, along the length of the room, looking anywhere but at the door. All at once I saw something dark in the bath, close to the wall on my left. What was it? It looked like some dark furry animal floating facedown in the water.