Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  The roar would be heard throughout Archon, engraving terror into the hearts and memories of every living creature on the island. They would all remember, for many years to come, one of the rarest sounds in the known lands- the tormented screams of a red dragon in pain.

  *

  Lorian opened his eyes. He could see, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even move his eyes. What he saw was whatever his head was facing. And right now, his head was tossing from side to side as he was being carried away.

  He couldn't clearly see who it was, but the movement was making him nauseous. Was it the Black Ravens? Unable to protest and unable to close his eyelids, he let the nausea overcome him as he vomited blood and bile. He didn't care who it was, but he just wanted them to stop.

  He felt fear overcome him as he realized that he knew this sensation. He had first felt it when Mog'rath had overcome his body completely. The lifeless feeling of being trapped inside a body that wasn't his. He vomited once more, and, thankfully, the force was enough to make his eyes close once again.

  Chapter 79

  "Did they just kill it?" asked a shocked Gale.

  "No. It's still alive," replied Illazehra.

  "Then is it safe for us to be standing here watching?"

  Illazehra didn't say anything. She seemed completely transfixed by the dragon.

  They were standing atop a building a few streets away from the guild-hall. Nearly all the thieves had deserted the hall when the dragon appeared. Everyone had forgotten about the guild war. The only thing on their minds was survival.

  Almost half of them, including three of the lieutenants, had been roasted alive by the dragon's breath. Some more had died under the debris of the collapsing building. Miraculously, Illazehra had managed to protect herself and Gale with magical shields as they made their way out. He had known something was wrong the moment the mage appeared. Or at least they thought he was a mage. Until he transformed into a damned dragon.

  "Did you know?" she asked, still looking at the dragon lying on its side.

  "Did I know what?"

  "That the egg was that of a dragon."

  Embarrassment overcame him. He was still thinking of a good excuse when she replied.

  "It matters not. I never imagined, in all my years as a mage, that I would see a dragon. In Archon, of all the places. Beautiful, isn't it?"

  Gale had to disagree. If anything, he thought it was terrifying. And that roar just moments ago—something he never wanted to hear again.

  "Is it really safe for us here?" he asked again, a little worried. He was getting fidgety. He could see guards arriving at the scene. These were elite Aegean military, not the washed-out corrupt drunks who usually patrolled Archon.

  "It would seem so. The dragon isn't really a threat anymore. It's still alive, but severely wounded."

  "Who wounded it? The Summoners?" asked Gale.

  Illazehra shook her head.

  "No. It was Lorian. I could...feel him. He was the one who hurt it."

  She had been right from the beginning. There really was something different about Lorian. Having seen the boy's spellcasting, Gale had been sure nothing he did could surprise him. But this...

  "You really shouldn't be standing here."

  Gale spun around, his hand dropping to his blade. Illazehra seemed unconcerned, still looking at the dragon.

  "Ceívar," said Gale, with some relief.

  The man had his shirt off. Some of his old wounds seemed to have reopened, but his movements indicated that he was still very much able.

  "We really should get going. There's a councilmember down there, from what I've heard. And the military is arresting anyone who looks suspicious."

  That seemed enough to tear Illazehra's eyes away from the dragon.

  "A councilmember?" she asked, shocked. "Which one?"

  "Fabian, from what I hear. Those are his troops. I thought I saw one of them holding his banner."

  Fabian. Thankfully, it hadn't been Tiberius. Fabian was one of the generals of the Aegean military who sat on the Council of Three. A warrior of legendary martial prowess. Neither wealth nor noble birth got you a seat on the Council of Three. It was sheer strength. Be it arms or magic, only the truly exceptional were ever offered a place on it.

  Although a general in title, Fabian was really like a king. As were all the councilmembers. Simply put, they were completely above the law. Not even the chief justiciar, the highest authority in the Aegean government for internal affairs, could hold them accountable.

  What the hell was he doing in Archon? Was it the dragon that lured him here? And how had he mobilized his troops so quickly?

  "What are we waiting for, then?" asked Gale. It wasn't a good idea to be anywhere near a councilmember.

  Illazehra nodded. Good, thought Gale. Not even the rare sight of a dragon was worth being caught by a councilmember.

  "Where's Renal?" asked Gale. Several questions were burning inside him, but that had been the foremost.

  "He's alive. He was still fighting Darius when the dragon started going crazy."

  Darius. Next to Lorian, he had been the greatest surprise. Gale had never known any man on par with Renal in combat. Perhaps Gilligan or maybe a swordsman like Prince Elben would be better, but a Raven better than Renal with the longsword and dagger?

  "Who won?" asked Gale. A day ago, he wouldn't have even considered asking that question. But after seeing Darius fight...

  "Neither, really, but I would say Renal came out on top. Darius was wounded pretty badly when they had to break apart."

  "So we have the...um...guild-hall?" asked Gale, suddenly realizing that there was no guild-hall left.

  Ceívar laughed.

  "I guess. But Renal's too weak now. Most of his lieutenants are dead. And after this mess, the Ravenlord will have to intervene. Not sure what'll happen."

  The Ravenlord, thought Gale, shivering at the mention of the name.

  "Where are we going now?" asked Gale. They had left the building and were moving away from the wreckage of the guild-hall.

  "Survivors were told to gather in Hayden's guild-hall."

  One of the guild-masters who had supported Renal. Good choice, thought Gale. It was a guild-hall on the other side of the Archon. It would probably take half a day to get there. But it would be safe. Far away from this mess. Far away from the shadow of Fabian Matel.

  "Me as well?" asked Gale.

  "You, especially. There are some things Renal wants to talk to you about. Concerning...matters that we spoke about."

  The Twilight Circle. Gale had questions for Renal about that. But before that, he had a final question for Ceívar.

  "Do you know where Lorian is?"

  Ceívar shrugged as he walked.

  "Surely you don't want to leave him there?" asked Gale.

  "You think I didn't try looking? He was my responsibility. I went back and tried searching for him. He was nowhere to be found. Neither him nor the Summoners."

  *

  Riven ran towards the docks.

  Toskk was dead.

  He needed to somehow find a way out of Archon. There was a man there. Clad in shining silver armor. All the well-dressed soldiers were bowing to him. He was ordering them to arrest people. To take them away. Riven didn't recognize him, but the voice told him to run immediately. The man would hurt him, the voice said.

  Toskk was dead. Riven had killed him.

  He slipped and fell once again, for probably the tenth time that night. He had to get away from the guild-hall, but his legs felt weak.

  Where could he go? Perhaps he needed to head to one of their hideouts and fetch some gold. He would need it.

  No! screamed the voice. There's no time! Run! The man knows you're here. He searches for you! You're the one he's looking for!

  Riven knew the voice was right. Whatever else the voice was, it only knew what he knew. And he knew the man was searching for him. But why?

  He had gotten out of the crumbling building just
in time to witness the dragon come crashing down on it. Wrapped in green glowing snakes.

  And then it screamed. How it screamed! Riven had to shut his ears and curl up on the floor because he had been so close to it. And then the heat! Riven thought he would burn as well. It looked like the sun itself. A blazing ball of red flame.

  Once the dragon had given up struggling, a crowd had begun to gather. Riven thought he could wait in the crowd and watch. But then the man had come. When his eyes scanned the crowd, an alarm rang inside Riven's head. He had to run. There was no other choice.

  Toskk would know what to do, thought Riven, cursing once again as he thought about his dead brother.

  Toskk was dead.

  He had never needed his brother's advice before. Why was he thinking that he did now? What was it that Toskk wanted? He mentioned a place. Culltown. In Ryga. Riven wasn't sure, but he thought Ryga was to the west of the islands.

  That's why he needed Toskk! Riven didn't know these things! But Toskk was dead…

  Shaking his head, he continued running, trying to stop thinking. Thinking hurt right now. The voice kept babbling about how dangerous the armored man was. It wasn't letting him think in peace.

  He came to a sudden stop as he realized he was at the edge of a pier.

  When had he reached the pier? And how long had he been running?

  Doesn't matter, he thought as he ran towards one of the ships. He barely had any gold left to buy passage, but he knew he couldn't remain in Archon a second longer. Someone or something was looking for him.

  He held on to the mooring rope and climbed onto one of the ships. He could barely make out the name of the ship on the side. The Teardrop. There were some people on the ship. But they were all distracted. They were huddled to one side looking at the smoke rising from Archon. He landed with a soft thud on the ship's deck and ran until he found a trapdoor. Opening it, he started climbing down the ladder. Missing a step, he fell to the floor.

  Toskk was dead.

  We're safe now, said the voice, but Riven continued to run. He ran to a corner where there was a pile of cloth on the floor. He climbed underneath it and breathed. His breath came in gasps.

  He hadn't realized it, but he had been holding his breath for some time now while running.

  Finally, safe inside the hold of the ship, huddled into a ball under a pile of smelly and damp cloth, Riven's voice stopped speaking. His head was clear of all thoughts.

  He was tired, he realized. He needed to sleep. Where would this ship take him? I don't care, he thought. Anywhere but Archon.

  Archon, where his brother, Toskk, had died.

  Toskk was dead. And Riven had killed him.

  Chapter 80

  Lorian woke up with a start.

  His body! He tried moving his hands and legs. Relief took over as he realized he could move once again. He had control of his limbs.

  "Easy," said Orcus's familiar voice.

  "Where am I?" he asked, looking around. This certainly looked familiar. He was in the living quarters of a ship. The steady rocking seemed to confirm it.

  "We're sailing," replied Orcus.

  "Sailing?" asked Lorian, shocked. "Sailing where? And with whom?"

  Before Orcus could say anything, Lorian spoke again, realizing something.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, a little concerned.

  "Yes. I managed to get away right before you...went crazy."

  That was a relief. He had to find some way to protect Orcus. His robes were probably not the safest place to be during a battle. Especially not if he could burst into a torrent of hellfire.

  "A bird!" he said suddenly.

  "What?"

  "Not a cat. A bird! That would be the perfect form for you. You could eat mice as well. You could fly away when I start a battle. And then—"

  "I'm flattered that my safety is of such importance to you. But I believe you need to be concerned about other things for now. And yes, I've considered a bird as well, but we'll get to that later."

  "Right. Where are we sailing, and with whom?"

  "I don't know where we're sailing, but we're with the Summoners. Dahl ordered his men to take hold of you once you fainted."

  The Summoners. Lorian crashed back into the bed.

  He held up one hand and tried casting. Absolutely nothing.

  He had expended every last bit of magical power he had with his last spell. And his body ached. Everywhere. Although the Summoners were sure to be spent as well, he knew he was in worse condition.

  "We're in trouble now, aren't we?" asked Lorian.

  "I wouldn't think so. The other two wanted to leave you there, but Dahl wouldn't hear of it. He commanded that you were to be carried."

  Interesting. But he knew Dahl's motivations were far from selfless. Even from their short encounter, it became clear that Dahl was interested in his demonic essence. He tried getting up, but his body still hurt too much.

  "Awake, I see," said a voice.

  Dahl. Lorian hadn't heard him walking in. At this point, he wasn't sure how to even address Dahl.

  "We've departed Archon," said Dahl.

  "What is this ship? Where are we going?" Lorian asked. "And why am I with you? Am I your prisoner?"

  Lorian appeared a little defensive.

  "The Queen of Sorrow. A ship my men chartered to take us to northern Ryga. To a port named Asnicar."

  Back to Ryga, thought Lorian. But then again, the northern half of Ryga was an entirely different place from the southern portion. And Asnicar. Lorian had never heard of it.

  "We were supposed to leave two months ago. Archon was meant to be a day's stop at the most. I have a house there. Little did I know that a fool would dare to rob me of my prize and plunge me into this meaningless guild war."

  "Your prize?"

  From inside his robes, Dahl took out a pouch. He opened it to show a golden egg. It was severely fragmented, its shell looking as if it might break. Lorian recognized it immediately. The dragon egg.

  "What do you need it for?"

  "As I have said before. All in good time. But you need to rest now."

  Rest be damned, thought Lorian. He didn't like this.

  "You still didn't answer my last question," he said, addressing Dahl as the man walked away.

  "No. You are not a prisoner. But then again, it would not be in your best interests to leave, either."

  "What do you mean? You intend to stop me?"

  "What I meant was that you will die without my help."

  "Die?"

  "You have absolutely no knowledge of the essence you contain inside you. The only spells you are capable of are those that you have stumbled upon by chance. The spell you cast today was not just wasteful, but it was extremely dangerous. Hellfire is created by burning demonic essence. You weren't sleeping. You were dead. Life force binds essence to flesh, but it's a delicate balance. Without sufficient essence, your life force withdraws and you die. It is only a miracle that you yet live."

  Died? That seemed farfetched, but he knew Dahl wasn't lying. It did feel as if the life had left his body entirely.

  "I suspected you to be a demon spawn. But I know now that you are not. A demon spawn wouldn't have been able to cast a spell like that. Only true demons, or demon spawn that have completely unlocked the strength of their heritage, would have been able to do what you did. Then again, a true demon wouldn't have died under the weight of its own spell. Your body is unique. I have some suspicions as to what you are..."

  Dahl appeared deep in thought. Lorian was once again in awe of Dahl's insight.

  "Such a process has only been mentioned before in books. I know there were attempts at Lasrim to…create you. But I know for a fact that none of them succeeded."

  Create him? Did Dahl mean the merging of a human and demonic essence?

  "I have to ask you," continued Dahl. "How long do you think you have before you let the weight of your own spells, and the lack of understanding you have of yourself, dest
roy you?"

  Lorian had no answer. Learning more about his unique condition had been his main goal in leaving Norvind. And unlocking the power that Mog'rath's essence could offer him.

  "I do not claim to have seen one such as you before, nor do I fully know what you are. Yet I can claim with certainty that I know much more about you than you do. And I would be able to teach you how to use your gift."

  Lorian started thinking.

  "Take the time to think. Many outsiders revile Summoners and fear them. For good reason. There are many among my kind who have had their minds twisted and warped by the demonic essences they try to contain. Nadia, the one you slew, was one of them. Most of us, however, are mages who have been persecuted for the pursuit of knowledge. You have my word, that if you choose to leave, no harm shall befall you. Anguila, the northernmost Aegean island, is our final stop before we set course for Port Asnicar. We can part ways there if you do not wish to continue with us."

  "What's in Asnicar?" asked Lorian out of curiosity.

  "We don't care as much about Asnicar as we do about what lies beyond it."

  Beyond Asnicar? Lorian hadn't the faintest clue where Asnicar itself was, let alone what lay beyond it. Northern Ryga, Dahl had said. Half of it was occupied by the free cities. But the other half...

  "Holt? The jungles of Holt? You mean to go there?"

  Dahl spoke.

  "I can tell you nothing more until I have your answer. Take your time. Think carefully. It is not a decision to be made lightly. Allegiance to Lord Izul comes at a great cost. And once you swear it, you would not be free to leave."

  With that, Dahl departed, leaving Lorian with a flood of questions.

  Holt! They were traveling to Holt! The vast and uncharted jungle in northern Ryga. A place containing scores of fantastic creatures and even more that were yet undiscovered. Ancient ruins and civilizations. Holt was an ecosystem unlike any in the known lands.

  He fell back onto the bed and started thinking. A week ago, he would never have even imagined joining the Summoners. Everyone in Ryga blamed them for Naxannor's war. The arch-demon had done unspeakable things and changed the course of Ryga's history forever. He had been brought up to hate the Summoners and everything they stood for.