Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  The flapping he was hearing for was gone. In their place, he heard the noise of loud and quick footsteps. They were coming from the direction of the large staircase that was at the center of the mansion's hall. Through the darkness he could make out a large shape that was bounding down the stairs. It was too large to be a man. The arms appeared too big. The footsteps were punctuated with animal grunts and snarls. The excitement he had been feeling earlier turned into primal fear.

  All thoughts about his father vanished, his senses paralyzed, his mind turned to survival. The door. Calar turned around quickly to open the door and saw that it wouldn't open. He felt his feet brush something.

  The winged creature! It hadn't gone anywhere! It had settled down at the door blocking his exit. One look at it, and Calar was overcome with disgust and stumbled back. The footsteps grew louder now.

  He turned around holding his blade. Gone was the finesse his trainer had taught him. Gone was the stance he was supposed to be in. The position Calar was in now was the same position he had been in when he was twelve years old and held a blade for the first time in his life. The only difference was that his entire body was shaking with fear this time.

  The larger creature was in the hall now and leapt toward him with its arms outstretched. Even in the darkness Calar saw that it had its mouth open and it was filled with razor-sharp teeth. Calar weakly pointed his blade towards the creature. It stopped right in front of him, unperturbed by its foe.

  A single swipe of its claw and Calar's expensive, masterwork sword flew into the darkness of the hall. Without pausing, the creature raised its other arm and swung it. Before Calar could duck, the claw met the side of his face and he was brutally knocked to the ground, his head crashing into the floor.

  He felt his consciousness drift away, but fear kept him awake.

  He lay on the ground motionless as he heard the hellish creature's snarling breath. Its head was close to his and it was smelling him, its drool falling on his face and stinging his cheeks. It was then that he realized the entire left side of his face had been mangled by the creature's strike. Calar was afraid to look at it and closed his eyes, wishing he were in some nightmare from which he would wake up.

  He waited for the creature to finish its gruesome task. But death never came.

  Calar felt a large claw grab his right foot and felt himself roughly yanked off the floor and dragged away towards the stairs. The initial shock gone, Calar had regained the use of his limbs. He began flailing them wildly, and when that had no effect he started screaming. All the while being dragged up the stairs. His passage on the stairs was interrupted by sudden bumps. He noticed that they were bodies. Bodies of his father's men. What was this creature? What had happened here? Where was his father?

  He was now being dragged across the first floor of the house. At the end of the corridor he saw that there was light coming from a room. It was too bright not to notice.

  A few meters from the door, he felt his leg nearly yanked out of its socket as the creature hurled him through the open doorway into the light. He heard a wooden crack as he crashed into a wardrobe. He felt a wave of intense pain in his head and his vision blurred for a few moments. As his vision cleared, the scene was frozen in his eyes.

  Gale, his father's right-hand man, a former Black Raven, who also served as Calar's mentor, had often told him that people were afraid of the dark because they never knew what was in it. People often let their imaginations run wild. A sound in the darkness was no longer just a sound—the mind built its own fanciful story about what caused the sound. The same went for your eyes. They too played tricks on you in the darkness. In the end, he said, things were never as bad as they always seemed to be in the darkness.

  Calar wished right now that he would be engulfed in the blackest of the black nights, and his imagination unleashed upon him to play all the tricks of the mind, to conjure up his darkest nightmares. Because nothing in the depths of his most insidious nightmares even came close to what he was seeing now.

  The entire floor was covered with blood and fresh carcasses; there were limbs without bodies and bodies without limbs, heads and torsos. But it was the blood! It was everywhere...on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

  The creature that that thrown him had now entered the room and was visible in the light. Dark-brown flesh, black in some places, with blood-red eyes. It looked like something between a large hairless ape and a werewolf with long, thin fingers that ended in razor-sharp nails. It appeared to be bleeding in several places as it walked; some of its bones, too, were visible from underneath the flesh. It looked as if it would fall apart, but the creature didn't seem the least bit bothered by it. Its mouth was covered with red blood and the teeth appeared to have bits of human remains hanging from them.

  Standing by the door were two more of the same creatures. In one corner to his right, another one was tearing into a large pile of bodies with a frenzy Calar had not seen at the worst of the dog fights.

  He slowly lolled his head to the side to see some of the bat like creatures that he had first encountered. They were black in color and appeared to have thin almost skeleton like bodies that ended in large furry wings. They were all perched on various objects in the room.

  Father! The word did not escape Calar's mouth.

  His father's normally elegant robes were torn, and he appeared to be severely wounded. Bleeding from one side. Standing above him was a man wearing a dark hooded robe. Overcome by anger, Calar tried to pick himself up to rush at the robed figure.

  Even before he could move, his stomach burst into pain and blood rushed into his mouth. The same creature that had assaulted him now had one of its large clawed feet pressed on his stomach, the nails digging into his soft flesh, its weight crushing him.

  "No... Please. I have already told you everything there is to tell. Do not—"

  His father's voice. The sentence ended in a scream. Through the haze of pain Calar saw his father roll on the ground as one of the winged creatures attacked him, biting at him.

  "Bring him to me," came a rasping voice.

  Every word spoken was clearly audible above the screeches and the feeding noises that filled the room.

  Calar found himself thrown at the feet of the robed man. This time, the creature's foot landed on his back, pinning him to the ground motionless. He tried to cough but the weight of the leg on him was too much.

  "No! No. Please don't hurt him. There is nothing more to tell. His name is Toskk, and I hired him through a man known as—"

  "Tom of the Black Ravens. Commonly known as Stinky Tom," completed the rasping voice. "You've been telling me that repeatedly. I believe you..."

  Calar saw his ragged father look expectantly at the robed figure.

  "This is your son?"

  His father didn't speak.

  "You need to understand something," continued the man. "I am not torturing you for information. I will find the thief even if every word you have spoken is a lie. I never needed your help."

  The creature's foot pressed down harder, knocking the breath out of Calar's lungs and sending blood and fluids into his mouth. The nails dug deeper in, drawing blood. The wound on his face had already festered in such a short time and was beginning to smell.

  "This is retribution."

  Calar felt the foot lifted off him and felt razor-sharp teeth close around his neck. The last thing he saw was the winged creatures tearing into his screaming father before his own world went black.

  Chapter 26

  Lorian stood waiting for Master Gawain in a large empty room. He could see several runes inscribed onto the walls and the floor.

  Today was the day.

  He would finally be taking his first steps to learning the Lumen. It took him longer than he had expected, but now he had a firm grasp of the Alekh.

  He still didn't see how it would be useful.

  In fact, it had been counter-productive, thought Lorian as he waited. Spellcasting came naturally to him. The wor
ds just felt right in his mouth, and his spells were always perfect.

  After learning the Alekh, however, he found that he was thinking a little too much. Just a few weeks ago, magic had been second nature to him. With the Alekh, he found that the veil that occluded the many difficulties plaguing magic users had been shattered. He was now pausing to notice a deeper significance and relation between the words of spells that he had never noticed before.

  He understood much more now, but he had become a little slower in his spellcasting.

  Perhaps that had been why it took so long he thought. His mind had been fighting against learning it because it was slowing down his casting. It took a while to overcome his instincts and press on to finish learning the Alekh.

  The speed would come again. With time and practice. Right now, he hungered for the Lumen.

  "Ah, my child. You are already here."

  Lorian had been deep in thought and didn't notice Master Gawain as he walked in. Seeing him now, Lorian gave him a polite smile and a nod.

  "Rhaen tells me you are ready for your next step. I trust she wasn't too hard on you."

  "Not at all, Master."

  He had been annoyed with Rhaen at first, but she had grown on him the past few weeks. Her advice had been invaluable in overcoming his barriers to the Alekh. Besides, Lorian was capable of recognizing talent. And Rhaen, undoubtedly, was an excellent mage. She had earned his respect.

  "Very well then. Are you ready? I'll try to make this as easy for you as possible..."

  Lorian nodded.

  "First. Are you familiar with Tarmach's variation of the sleep spell?"

  "The false sleep," replied Lorian.

  Sleep spells had hundreds of variations. The main purpose of the spell was, unsurprisingly, to induce sleep into a target. The problem was that no two minds were alike. Spells tailored for one person were not guaranteed to work on others. Some were weak willed and some had stronger minds that could fight the spell. A nightmare could break a sleep spell, just as any of the thousands of thoughts that ran through the mind when one was asleep. In all, they were the most useless in battle and by far the most complicated spells to learn. There were other spells for incapacitation that were easier to master. And more effective.

  One clever mage called Tarmach had solved the problem by cutting it off at its roots. His variation of the spell was a steel cage around the mind. It simply replicated the physical aspects of sleep by forcing the eyes to close and relaxing the body's many muscles, but inside the mind was locked in its own world and would beat against the cage.

  Lorian had been made to experience Tarmach's spell once. After it was cast, you would find yourself in complete blackness without any sense of space or time. It worked on everyone, with the difference that they would break out of it at different times. And it was different from regular sleep spells because a person always knew when Tarmach's spell was cast on them. A real sleep spell would make you think you dozed off on your own, and would even feel the same as normal sleep.

  "I want you to cast it on yourself," said Gawain.

  "What? That won't work. If I cast it, as soon as I'm inside, I'll break out of it. Within seconds."

  You couldn't fight your own mind. Lorian had never tried it, but he knew that was what would happen. A moment of blackness and then he would break out of the spell and find himself awake immediately.

  "You would if you were in any other place. This room is the simulacrum. It's designed to show you the Lumen. The runes inscribed will take over once you finish your spell, and you will be able to see through them. Tarmach's spell is only to let the room take control of you. A trigger to prepare your body and let the simulacrum know you are ready."

  Lorian looked around the room once and saw the runes pulsing. Very well he thought and began casting the spell. Within moments he felt his muscles give way. His eyes closed before he hit the ground.

  Lorian had expected the same blackness that he felt when he first experienced Tarmach's false sleep. Instead he found himself floating over an endless gray ocean.

  The sky was a blazing white bowl above his head with swirling gray clouds. He tried to look around himself and found that he could maneuver quite easily. His body took him wherever he wanted to go. It seemed the simulacrum had done whatever it was supposed to.

  "This way, child."

  Gawain materialized right next to him and began floating in a particular direction. Lorian followed.

  "I want you to keenly observe everything you see."

  Observe what? thought Lorian.

  There was just the sky above and an ocean beneath them. They floated, heading nowhere in particular, for a few minutes. Lorian tried to make sense of the sky. The clouds moved in chaotic swirls but beyond that, he didn't find anything of magical interest. Gawain broke the silence.

  "Let your ears guide you first."

  Lorian concentrated for a few moments.

  Whispers.

  Lorian wondered if it was the Alekh they were speaking in, but he didn't need to think that much. Some of the whispers were spoken in the common tongue. Some other tongues sounded familiar to him as well. He tried to see where it was coming from.

  The ocean beneath them.

  Without saying a word, Lorian dropped down, heading toward the ocean surface. He knew that Gawain was following him.

  He had been heading downward for some time before he could see the ocean surface clearly.

  The ocean surface was not as calm as it had appeared while he was floating high above.

  It seemed to be composed of some sort of liquid. The liquid formed into strands that shot up from the ocean like hair. Each strand seemed to move as it liked. Some were much larger than others and reached much greater heights.

  "What are they?" asked Lorian.

  Gawain smiled in response.

  "See for yourself."

  Lorian reached to one strand that was much larger than the others. It seemed much like a candle flame whipping about. There was nothing he could see that gave him any more information. He reached out his hand and grabbed it.

  As soon as he did, he felt his chest cave in and felt as if he were being pulled inside-out. The feeling didn't last for long. He felt his eyes close. His mind was filled with flashes. A great barbarian warlord stood surrounded by several men. They appeared to be attacking him. He was holding his own and yelling at them.

  Cowards! They would not challenge him to single combat. None of them. Instead they kept trying to wear him out by attacking from all sides. Lorian forced himself to let go of the strand.

  No. This couldn't be.

  He went closer to the ocean surface and grasped a relatively calm strand.

  The feeling wasn't as bad as the last time. He felt pleasant and the images that greeted him this time were those of a woman over a cooking pot. Two girls kept tugging at her clothes while she smiled to reassure them and told them that dinner would soon be ready. That they should go play outside. Letting go was easy for Lorian this time.

  He looked up to see Gawain floating a few feet above him.

  "Essences! This is the void you've brought me to. These are the essences of the dead!"

  Gawain nodded.

  Everything that died. Any creature. Its essence went to the depths of the largely unknown place called the void. Far beyond the planes of mortals and immortals. Even further beyond the planes of the gods.

  Lorian quickly felt fear.

  "Isn't this dangerous?" he asked.

  There were many mages, especially Summoners and those versed with planar magic, who tried to open gateways into the void to fetch the essences back into the living world. Unfortunately, the task wasn't as easy as it seemed. Once sucked into the void, there was no way out. Even immortals did not possess the strength to make it out of the void if they were pulled in. Besides, even finding what you wanted within the void was an impossibility.

  "No. This isn't really the true void. But rather a connection from Castle Norvind to the
void. The simulacrum. It was forged by the earliest mages of Norvind thousands of years ago. The Lumen did not still exist at that time. The first mages were the explorers of the void. You can think of it as a protective shell of magic around us that lets us explore parts of the void without being consumed by it."

  That was all very nice. It seemed to be an impressive feat, but Lorian did not understand what this had to do with the Lumen. He saw several more strands that were lashing around. Several of them tried to touch him, but squirmed away just before they could make contact.

  "I'm sorry, Master Gawain. But I don't understand the purpose of this exercise."

  "You will, child. Come up here next to me."

  Lorian flew up and stood in the air right next to Gawain.

  "Now, I am sure that in the past few days, you would have gained a deeper understanding of magic."

  Lorian wasn't sure how significant the gain was. But he agreed. He was curious to know where this was going.

  "Tell me your understanding of how elemental spells work."

  Lorian recollected his earliest teachings.

  "The elemental planes," he said, referring to the most readily accessible plane for humans. "The first phase is the connection. Phrases spoken in the Alekh let us channel raw elemental power from the plane and pull it into our body. The next phase uses the Alekh to mold them into the desired spell. We give the raw energy shape with the Alekh as well as with mental symbols. The third phase is the release of the finished spell. The final discharge."

  Lorian had known as much for a long time. Master Thaugmir had taught it to him the very first day he met him

  Elemental magic was the simplest and most widely used form of magic in all the known lands. The weakest and the most powerful mages all had an arsenal of elemental magic.

  The first phase was straightforward. There were only a few phrases to gain access to the elemental planes.

  The second phase was the most heavily researched. After the energies from that plane were gathered into the body. You could not play with the energy however you liked. If you made mistakes or tried something unrealistic, the energy would recede back into the plane from the body, and one would have to start over. That was the best you could hope for. At worst, Lorian had heard several sordid tales of experiments gone wrong. The main reason for comprehensive research in this phase was to shape and use the energy in different ways. Some variations allowed for speed while sacrificing form. Other phrases let you intricately shape the energy to suit your needs.