Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  "I'm good with a sword? That's the reason you want me at the tundra?" asked Azrael. He would never set foot in a place like that as long as he lived. But he was curious as to the Zalearr's motives.

  "A sword hardly helps when one does not have the passion to yield it. I see that you are easily affected by the events around you. You let them affect you but you also react to make them better. Besides, I can also see what your essence can become. There is a certain familiarity to it. In the war against Namoth you will reach your fullest potential..."

  "I'm flattered by your offer," lied Azrael, "but I am bound by my duty here. To my family and to my country. I can do much here to improve things..."

  "Ah," said Astorr. "You speak of the slaves kept in the city. The plight of their essence screams out to me as well."

  Azrael nodded.

  "You humans," continued Astorr. "You rarely see events on the scale that they are meant to be viewed. Your lifespans are so short, so you do not see the need to plan far into the future. Things closer to you by distance or time occupy your concerns more pressingly. While you manage to ignore certain events no matter how much of an impact they might have on you later. It is sometimes even comforting. My elders tell me it is because of your ability to forget that you can live in inaction."

  "I'm not sure what you're worried about. Namoth will fall, just like Naxannor did," said Azrael.

  "Ah. That is another one of your gifts. To be able to so conveniently lie to yourselves. When there is something you do not know, you would rather assume falsehood about it to comfort yourselves than to dig in and find the truth. And when you do find the truth, you can always make an excuse to not act on it."

  Azrael could only stare at the Zalearr. His years in the social circles of Aegis and the Military left little room for such brutal honesty.

  "I am sorry," replied Astorr, looking genuinely guilty. "I do not mean to offend you. There is still much I need to learn about humans. That is why I volunteered to come with the Eoran emissaries. My elders, too, thought it would be good for me."

  "You're going to meet Emperor Thyurin?" asked Azrael, wishing to change the topic. Hopefully the Zalearr was insightful enough to know that Azrael had no intention of a pointless journey to the tundra.

  "Yes. To ask for aid. The emissaries also wish to discuss many other matters with him. Pertaining to trade. How humans can carry on about their lives trading when an arch-demon like Namoth looms ahead of them is beyond me. Trader, noble, slave, emperor. All will fall just the same before Namoth."

  "How exactly is the campaign going?"

  Astorr laughed.

  "We cannot really judge that. There is only one goal in that war and that is the death of Namoth. Not his minions and certainly not wounding him. He will heal, and he will attain more minions. Every day that Namoth survives is a day that could mark the end of your kind."

  "Our kind? The Zalearr are the ones in the tundra."

  Astorr smiled. Azrael realized that it was somewhat condescending. But beyond the smile, when Azrael looked at the Zalearr's face, he was sure he could see the eyes glisten. Tears.

  "My people were not supposed to live this long. We had our chance ages past. We had our chance and we lost everything there was to lose. What remains is but the husk of my people. The only redemption for us who survive is to see that the same does not befall your kind."

  Azrael was confused. Nothing in the last statement made much sense to him. Turning his head towards the open wastes that were visible, Astorr spoke again.

  "I...am sorry. Your choices are your own. I fear I have ventured further into this matter than both of us would have liked."

  "No. Don't worry about it too much," said Azrael.

  "I will leave now, Azrael Llothran. I would be stopping here again in a few weeks' time. If you then wish to come to the tundra, I will be more than glad to have you accompany us," Astorr said, placing his hand on Azrael's shoulder. The touch was extremely delicate and precise. Might as well have been a feather. But it sent the same wind chill through his body.

  Before Azrael could reply in kind, the Zalearr turned and left. Leaving Azrael alone at the edge of the courtyard.

  Chapter 19

  Rennar's blood was boiling. When he first took command of Bren, there were rebellions every now and then. Rennar had literally beaten Bren into submission. The last big threat was Artemis. After he had chased him off to the north, Rennar lived peacefully and comfortably for many months. And suddenly in the last two days much was happening to unsettle him. He kept pacing inside his room. Where is that damned Kirrel? he thought to himself.

  "My lord...Gerzahn is here. He says you sent for him."

  Rennar turned to see his guard poking his head into the room.

  The same one that fetched him the bad news two days ago. He wasn't superstitious, but he would have to do something. Perhaps reassign him somewhere else. Even looking at the guard's face reminded him of that day. Rennar had never been more afraid in his life. It was the fact that he had been so afraid that disgusted him so much whenever he remembered it.

  And with that ass of an overseer rubbing it in his face.

  "Tell him to wait," said Rennar, yelling, "and fetch me Kirrel! I sent for him an hour ago. Who the hell does he think he is?"

  The guard scurried away quickly.

  He was becoming too soft. Emperor Thyurin had chosen him knowing full well that Rennar was a man of iron will. A man who could solve problems. His work in keeping the peace at Bren for the last few years had been commended in the royal court of Aegis. His wife had sent word that their family had received several honors in the form of government appointments reaching even to the furthest cousins. It was better to be a distant cousin of Rennar's family than to be a son of a lesser noble.

  He knew all of it depended on how well he took care of Bren. The iron output was phenomenal. So phenomenal that he could provide twice the asked quantity and still have plenty left over for his own deals.

  Unfortunately, Aegean law was very clear. The taxes could be set by the governor, but any and all iron that came out of the mines belonged to the Aegean treasury. But Rennar discovered that there was simply too much gold to be made from selling iron. Especially to the Eorans. Rennar's own coffers had been enriched sufficiently by several sales, all of which he had done discreetly without the treasurer back at Aegis knowing.

  He wished Khamis were with him now. The young man was like a son to him, and having him by his side reminded him of the numerous nomad forces that he could indirectly command through him.

  "You wished to speak to me, my lord?"

  Kirrel silently made his way into the room. Rennar resisted the urge to yell at him. He would have much need of his services in the coming days, so he decided to let this tardiness pass.

  "Yes. I hope your men covered the banquet well?"

  "Yes, my lord. What do you wish to know about it?"

  "What else, fool? Azrael Llothran. Our new overseer. I saw him talking to that prick Doyen. What were they speaking about?"

  Rennar had noticed Azrael slipping away from the crowd. He had been distressed to see Doyen join him. Doyen and his council were the last remnants of nobility at Bren. Rennar had stifled their growth completely. They were a disgruntled lot, and Rennar would have been better off if they had all been killed during the conquest. Yet the original terms of surrender were clear. They were set a little before Rennar took office, and they had been signed directly by Emperor Thyurin, who had decided to be merciful to Bren after the execution of King Kesseleth.

  Rumor had it that the Aegeans too suffered many losses, so Thyurin was glad to get it over with. Especially with Bren.

  Per the terms of surrender, they could be taxed heavily, but their families were not to be touched. Thyurin had his armies spread out on Ryga now, and he did not wish a rebellion on his hands. Rennar was here specifically to ensure that. The populace of Bren did not care much for the nobility, but ever since Rennar took office, they oft
en remembered how their lives were much better under Kesseleth. As such the nobles became heroic figures for them. Killing them would make them martyrs and sow seeds for rebellion.

  "They were speaking about Lorian, my lord. The apprentice who caused the disturbance at the marketplace."

  "That's all?" asked Rennar. He was slightly relieved. Everyone had been talking about that. Even the Eorans had heard about it and wished to know what happened. Rennar spent a few minutes grudgingly recounting the incident, although showing himself and his own actions in a much better light.

  "Well...that and Lord Doyen also told him a bit about the history of Bren."

  "All that is very well. I need to know if they spoke anything of import. Regarding his work at the mines?"

  "No, my lord. I trust Lord Doyen knew somebody was listening. He mentioned to the overseer that they would speak again."

  Damn him! thought Rennar. And damn Azrael Llothran.

  "Do you know where and when they plan to meet?"

  "Not yet my lord, but I have some contacts inside the Doyen household. This matter will receive my fullest attention."

  "Good. It's important that we know what he's planning."

  Rennar was wishing it would be something treasonous. Then he could get rid of them both with a single stroke once he had proof. The terms of surrender would be voided under charges of treason.

  "What of Artemis? I'm fed up with this assassin that the Ravens have set me up with. Let them—"

  Rennar noticed that Kirrel was eager to say something and paused himself.

  "I have news about that, my lord..."

  "Artemis is dead?" Rennar's heart skipped a beat. Finally, some good news.

  "Er...no, my lord..."

  Rennar felt his temper rise again. What was Kirrel playing at, getting his hopes up like that?

  "I meant to say that I have some news about the situation. There appears to have been much chaos in the city of Simea, my lord. A feud of sorts between two opposing factions, and suffice to say the Rhial Council is in shambles. I do not know the specifics, but there has been some violence between the feuding knights, and much of it appears to be focused around Artemis. It appears that some in the council wish that he leave the city. The assassin Garren Winters himself is involved in several of the events transpiring there now, and he assures me that the time of Artemis's death is at hand."

  "The council is divided on the matter of Artemis? Why?"

  It galled Rennar to think that they held him in esteem enough to even take sides about him. A worthless beggar with a name was all he was.

  "Garren did not specify the details yet, but he assures me that everything is happening exactly as he wishes."

  Not as good as him being dead right now, but still a bit of good news nonetheless. The Rhial Council was nearly three thousand years old, and if Garren could cause a rift between them, then he was formidable indeed. He made a mental note to talk with the man once this matter was done. Regarding permanent employment. He could easily pay more than what the Ravens offered him, and Rennar always needed good men. Especially with his ambitions set so high.

  "Leave now. And send in Gerzahn. He should be waiting outside."

  Rennar settled into his chair when the stocky foreman from the mines made his way in. Gerzahn was a reliable man. And he was Rennar's man. Back when that violent fool, Egrik, was still alive and overseer, it was Gerzahn who was really in control of things. He had a good mind for numbers and a skill to organize things.

  "You wished to speak with me, my lord?"

  "Yes. Regarding the third level. How goes the work?"

  The mines at Bren had two levels. Officially. The number of workers, the number of carts, and finally the amount of ore, were all submitted by the overseer to the treasurer. In the earlier days, Rennar just used to skim off the top. But now he had his own private mining operation within the mines. A good number of slaves working on a section of the mine that Rennar had taken completely for himself.

  "Not too well, my lord," said Gerzahn dropping his head.

  Rennar was stunned.

  "What do you mean not too well? Just two weeks ago, you said we were ahead of schedule."

  "Yes, my lord," said Gerzahn. He shuffled on his feet a bit.

  "Something to say? Out with it!"

  "The newer tunnels. Men have been disappearing within them."

  "Mining accidents? You need more men? Let me know how many you need and I shall have Khamis deliver them to you."

  Accidents were fairly common. Especially since Rennar had taken little care to ensure that the tunnels were well constructed. Khamis was always more than willing to sell slaves.

  "It's not just the ones who've disappeared, my lord. It has greatly upset the other miners as well. They...do not wish to go into the tunnels. They speak of curses and demons."

  "Then dig another tunnel. Heavens, the whole land is rich with iron!"

  "We did, my lord. We've abandoned three tunnels so far and dug a new one. It's the same there, as well. Each day more of them disappear."

  Rennar held his hand to his eyebrows. Savages. Them and their ridiculous beliefs.

  "Perhaps if we sent some guards with them..."

  "Guards? You want me to send Aegean soldiers into the mines to guard those filthy savages?"

  "I don't see another way—"

  "You tell those slaves that I'll have them flayed alive if they don't do as commanded!"

  "It's gone a little beyond threats. Some of them tell stories of creatures that attack them in the darkness. Demons."

  "I don't care. When will the level be finished? I need that iron. I have a new contract with the Eorans, a very large one at that. I can't have it go down the drain because they're scared to dig."

  Gerzahn was silent, with his head bowed. Soft. That's what Rennar had become. That was root of all his problems. Azrael would not leave Norvind, no matter how much he wanted to do his damned job. And those miners would dig all the way to depths of hell if he wanted them to. He could certainly spare the guards to escort the miners, but this was how trouble always began. You couldn't let these savages get a foothold.

  "I'll speak to Khamis. His men know how to get the slaves to work," said Rennar calmly.

  Gerzahn nodded.

  "Who is handling the slave purchase now?"

  "Captain Yvain, my lord."

  Rennar didn't like Yvain. He had been stationed at Norvind first. He was always slacking off, and never a man to trust with matters of import. Rennar knew he was also corrupt. He needed someone to take his place. Quickly.

  "There's another thing I wanted to ask you. Regarding the reports Egrik used to send the treasurer. Who is doing them now?"

  "I am, my lord."

  "The treasurer accepted my seal because of Egrik's death, but from the next report, he will be expecting the new overseer's seal on them. Send them to me as usual. I will get him to sign them."

  "Will...will he be visiting Marduk?"

  "Not if I can help it. But just in case he does, I want you to start separating the third level entirely from the rest of the mines. And all ore for our special operation should come only through the third level."

  "That would take considerable time, my lord..."

  "It will. But it needs to be done. You will have more men. These men should not show up in papers."

  "But my lord, the treasurer, he provides—"

  "Gold based on the numbers we show in the reports. Yes, Gerzahn, I am familiar with how the system works."

  "Then...it will have to come out of our...your purse..."

  Rennar gave a laugh.

  "It will not come out of anywhere. Split the current rations to accommodate the new ones as well."

  Rennar saw Gerzahn's lips quivering. He was scared. Rightfully so. Hunger could drive men to great desperation. Rennar reassured him.

  "Let them know this is only temporary. Rations will be increased once the third level is completed and fully operational."


  Rennar had no intention of doing it, and he didn't care if the slaves believed it or not.

  "As you wish, my lord."

  "You may leave now."

  Chapter 20

  Stupid Toskk, thought Riven as he ran through the sewers of Archon.

  Stupid, stupid.

  That egg was trouble and Toskk was not distancing himself from it. The fact that it was a dragon egg made things a hundred times worse.

  This wasn't about Daedalus. Riven knew that Toskk and Daed went back a long time and that Daed was somewhat trustworthy. This was about survival.

  He thought as he ran along the dark tunnels. He halted suddenly, almost tripping but then regaining his balance. A rat the size of a small puppy ran past his feet.

  The rats underneath his feet and the sludgy sewage did not bother him in the least. The rats in Archon's sewers were never lacking in food owing to fresh bodies dumped in every day, and Riven found that unless they were desperate they never went for live prey. In any case, he brought out his blade just to be on the safe side.

  He was the master of the sewers, he thought, smiling to himself as he continued. He was sure even the best of the Black Raven trackers would not know the routes through the sewers as well as him. The guild used the sewers, but only the cleanest, smallest and common routes. They never ventured deeper inside.

  He shook his head as the voice in his head reminded him of their predicament. It had been a long and uneventful week. Toskk mostly spent time inside the house, venturing outside only to meet Daedalus. Riven too had been shocked to learn the true value of the egg they had in their possession.

  It was then that something struck him.

  Two hundred gold.

  That was the bounty on Toskk's head. Spending many years on the streets and around the scum of Archon, Riven knew a thing or two about bounties. He knew where the mercenaries looked for bounties, where they turned them in. Three days ago, he had gone to one of the inns, disguised with the help of the potion that Daed had given Toskk. His goal had been to find out who, if anyone, was on his brother's trail. He was surprised to know that there was hardly anyone who even knew about the bounty.