The Sorceress in Training: A Retelling of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Rune blinks at me, confused. But for me, it all falls into place. The swan—all the swans. They’re her. She’s them.

  Of course. Marcus himself said he’s a master of metamorphosis. How better to hide your kidnapped love than change her physical appearance so her elf rescuer can’t find her?

  “What do you mean a bird?” Rune demands.

  “He has a picture in his study, an oil painting. It’s of a swan on a lake, and she just happens to be wearing the necklace you described. He calls it, ‘The Duchess.’”

  Rune swears under his breath and turns from us as if he can’t quite process the news.

  “But why?” Gavin demands. “If Marcus is in love with her, as you claim, why would he curse her?”

  “If I were to guess,” Rune answers, turning back to us, “I would say it was because Eva didn’t cooperate.”

  “But we still don’t know where she is,” I say, exasperated. “Unless you think she’s actually stuck in the painting.”

  Rune shakes his head. “No. She’s in the faerie realm. The only way to find her is to follow him so we can learn the location of the gateway. Marcus warded off a good chunk of the woods, so it must be near the manor.”

  “Brynn can’t do this,” Gavin says, donning his impassive guard expression. “It’s not safe.”

  The elf turns to Gavin, a grim smile gracing his lips. “Aren’t you her guard? Why don’t you guard her?”

  Gavin looks like he’s going to argue, but then he shakes his head as if disgusted with this whole situation and turns to me. “Is this something you want to do?”

  No. I want to believe the best of Marcus, learn what I can from him, and leave his house as a full-ranking sorceress.

  But despite how much I want the freedom that an education in magic will afford me, I can’t commit myself fully to the sorcerer until I know the truth, especially now that Rune’s details are falling into place.

  “We’ll have to wait until Marcus leaves again,” I say with a sigh, earning an approving look from Rune and a less-than-approving one from Gavin. “But until then…I’ll continue studying.”

  24

  The bright white spring flower in front of me withers to brown and droops in my hand. Irritated, I toss it away.

  “I must be honest with you,” Marcus says from across the desk, too amused for his own good. “It’s a nice change to see you struggle with something.”

  Come to find out, I’m terrible at metamorphosis. No matter how many times I try to change the mountain daisies’ petals from white to yellow, all I manage to do is make them wilt.

  “Why am I struggling with this?” I demand, looking back at the spell in front of me. It seems simple enough, but it’s proving to be anything but.

  “Metamorphosis is an art,” Marcus reminds me with an easy shrug, sitting back in his seat across the desk, taking a sip of his coffee—which he said was excellent, thank you very much. He also happens to be wearing a wicked half-smile that makes me want to smack him.

  “You said that about magic in general,” I point out, sitting back as well, mimicking his cocky posture.

  “You’ve mastered the art of the words—the rhythm, the poetry—that’s true. But metamorphosis is more than that; it’s physical. You’re altering matter—you are a sculptor.”

  “I can make it glow,” I sulk, casting my hand through the air, making the faded flower glisten like diamonds.

  “A very useful trick,” Marcus says with a laugh.

  I discovered the novelty not long ago, when I was working a light spell. It is rather impressive if you ask me. However, I might be biased as I was the one to create the spell, and I’m rather proud of it.

  Four weeks have passed since Rune asked me to follow Marcus—four. We’re in the early days of summer, and I’m no closer to finding Eva than I was when I met Marcus by the side of the road. Every day, my doubt doubles.

  Marcus hasn’t left me in all this time, not once. He’s attentive and patient, yet he pushes me to strive for more, to reach what’s just out of my grasp. He’s a good teacher, and to be quite honest, I’m grateful to have him.

  “Try again,” he says.

  I growl under my breath as I reach for another doomed daisy.

  “Don’t just say the words and expect the color to change—imagine the change in your mind. Paint the magic on the petals and believe it will work.”

  We’ve been over this before, but this time, I try especially hard, imagining dipping an invisible brush into a pot of magic and then taking it over the petals one by one. And before my eyes, they change.

  “Very good!” Marcus exclaims, leaning forward, excited.

  I shake my head and set the flower next to the dozens of wilted ones. “But it’s blue, not yellow.”

  “We’ll fine-tune later,” the sorcerer promises. “I’m happy with this progress for today.”

  “Does that mean I’m dismissed?” I rub the back of my stiff neck. I’ve been sitting for far too long.

  “For now.”

  Marcus rises with me, like a gentleman, and comes around the desk, stepping closer than I expect. His gaze is oddly intent, and I become uncomfortable. Other girls might swoon—but other girls don’t have Gavin.

  “Don’t allow yourself to become discouraged,” he says. “You can’t be perfect at everything.”

  “Perhaps not, but I can try,” I say lightly, taking a subtle step back. We’ve been doing this dance for weeks, and he hasn’t backed me into a corner yet—but I feel it coming. I haven’t led the sorcerer on, but that doesn’t seem to matter. It appears Marcus is used to getting what he wants, even if patience is required to capture the prize.

  “Is your neck sore?” he asks, his eyes following my hand.

  Immediately, I lower my arm. “I’m just a little tired.”

  “I can soothe the muscles,” he promises, his tone light and conversational. His eyes, though, say something else.

  I put just a little more space between us. “It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re as skittish as a mouse. It won’t hurt.”

  “Surely you can understand my hesitance considering the last time a sorceress touched me, it was to give me my mark—which quite frankly hurt with a fury of a thousand forge fires.”

  Rolling his eyes, Marcus sets the palm of his hand on the back of my neck. I tense under his touch, wondering how I might escape without offending him.

  “Yes, but I’m not a sorceress,” he reminds me, bringing me out of my head and back to our conversation.

  Heat flows from his hand, into my aching muscles. Unable to help myself, I nearly sigh from the swift relief.

  I attempt to move away when the magic fades, but Marcus keeps his hand on me, gently holding me in place. I freeze like a deer, too nervous to move.

  “Better?” he asks, his voice deepening.

  “Yes.” I swallow back my nerves and do my best not to let my eyes wander to the door. “Thank you.”

  His thumb moves over my skin, making me desperate to run.

  “You’ve proven to be a very fine apprentice.”

  Because I don’t know what to say, I force a weak smile. Marcus frowns, but his eyes move lower, to my mouth, and I realize I’m going to have to put a stop to this.

  “Marcus,” I say, hoping to keep my tone even but direct. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” he asks, moving in closer.

  I hope I’m choosing the right way to deal with the proud sorcerer. He likes bold—he respects bold.

  Raising an eyebrow, I deadpan, “Don’t give me a reason to slap you.”

  He barks out an abrupt laugh and drops his hand. Relief hits me so swiftly; I feel like I might pass out. He gives me a smile that’s a hair away from wicked. “My apologies.”

  For a moment—one brief, guilt-inducing moment, my stomach flutters. Marcus is handsome; he’s accomplished. He’s someone my family would welcome with open arms.<
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  But I don’t love or trust him, and even if there were a smidgen of temptation, I know it’s more chemistry than affection, and I would never—will never—betray Gavin’s trust.

  “Tell me, Brynn. Are you scared to be touched? Is that why you were going to join the College on the Mount?”

  “I’m scared of distraction.” I turn toward the desk and collect the wilted flowers.

  Marcus makes an approving hum, and though I believe I’ve given him just the right answer, it’s done nothing to dull whatever it is he’s beginning to feel for me.

  “I’ll take those,” he offers, pulling the flowers from my hands. “I’ll throw these out and see if I can find a few more. Why don’t you prepare a pot of tea? Then we’ll meet again and see if you can work the enchantment correctly.”

  I glance at the darkening skylight. “It’s late. I thought we were finished.”

  “Do you have a pressing engagement in the morning?”

  Forcing a light laugh, I say, “No, I suppose I don’t.”

  Marcus flashes me another crooked smile, and then he carries the dead flowers up the stairs and out the door, leaving me alone in his study.

  Once he’s gone, I turn to the painting. I’ve been careful to avoid it—after all, I don’t want Marcus to catch me staring at it. I study it for a long while, waiting for it to do something…magical. It looks exactly as any other oil painting would up close—blotchy, with broad brush strokes. I gently press my fingertips against the canvas, just to assure myself its real.

  “It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?” Marcus says from the doorway, startling me.

  I whirl around, the picture of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I say immediately.

  “Don’t be.” He comes down the steps and stands next to me, his eyes on the canvas. “She’s all I ever wanted,” he murmurs.

  “The painting?” I ask, crossing my arms so I won’t fidget.

  He gives me a sideways look. “The swan.”

  My heart, which was already beating fast from the surprise, quickens its pace even more.

  “We played a game, she and I.” He shakes his head. “Neither of us won.”

  Tingles run up and down my skin. What’s he saying?

  Slowly, he turns from the painting as if dismissing it and faces me, his green eyes dark and intent. “I’m leaving tonight.”

  I blink, startled. Marcus hasn’t left for ages. What’s going on? Why now?

  “I thought we were…” I motion to the flowers in his hand.

  “I have something I must attend to.” He shifts closer. “But when I return, if all goes well, I will show you that distractions can be a very pleasant thing indeed.”

  Before I can respond, he turns on his heel and heads for the door.

  * * *

  I wrestle with indecision as I watch the sky darken. I’ll have to follow Marcus alone; I don’t have a choice. Mrs. Stone doesn’t seem to be going with him this time, which makes me think the trip will be a short one. I stand by the window, peeking through the drapes, watching the sorcerer prepare his horse.

  How will I keep up with him when he’s on horseback?

  Letting the drape fall, I step away from the window. I wasn’t supposed to do this by myself, but there’s no time to go to Gavin, and even if there were, I don’t know how I’d slip by Marcus without him seeing me.

  I reach for my cloak, reluctantly preparing myself. It’s going to be a dark trek through the woods again, which is a blessing and a curse. It will make it easier to sneak behind Marcus undetected, but once again, I risk running into trouble.

  Once dressed for my mission, I take another peek out the window. It looks like Marcus is finished and getting ready to leave. I watch him get on his horse and lose all my nerve. I can’t follow him. It’s impossible.

  I turn, shaking my head, and yelp in surprise. Porter sits on my headboard, watching me with strangely knowing eyes.

  “Why do you do that?” I demand, setting my hands on my hips as I take a calming breath.

  The owl adjusts himself, rolling his wings as if shrugging.

  I peer at him, narrowing my eyes. “You’re a bird. It’s not as if you can understand me.” I pause, now certain I’m losing my mind. “Can…you?”

  In response, Porter nods. Well, sort of—the head roll he does almost resembles a nod. Disconcerted, I take a step forward and peer closer at him before I demand, “You are a bird, aren’t you? Not a human Marcus turned into a bird? I’ve heard he does that.”

  The owl cocks his head to the side, looking at me like I’m a foolish human indeed.

  “All right then…”

  Maybe he’s just a smart bird. A very smart bird.

  I look out the window once more and curse under my breath when I see Marcus riding into the dusky woods. Behind me, Porter lets out a soft whoo. I turn back to look at the bird. Wryly, I say, “You could go after him, you know. Make yourself useful, show me where the gateway is so I don’t have to traipse through the woods by myself.”

  The last thing I expect is the bird to leap from the bedpost and fly from the room, disappearing from sight.

  “No,” I breathe, immediately turning to the window. A moment later, Porter swoops from the side yard, apparently escaping through a window Mrs. Stone must have left open. I stand here, transfixed, refusing to believe the bird understood me.

  Crossing my arms, I try to decide if I’m going to follow Marcus and Porter into the night.

  But I don’t think I will.

  As ridiculous as it seems, I’m going to trust Porter, just to satiate my own curiosity. But that doesn’t mean I can stay in for the night.

  I tighten my cloak around my shoulders, slip past Mrs. Stone while she fusses in the kitchen, and leave the manor, heading for Whiteshire.

  I pass into the village just before dark, and the regular guards greet me. I walk swiftly, on a mission, deciding I’m going to find Gavin first, and then we can look for Rune together. Fortunately, Gavin is still at his forge, working by torchlight.

  Tiny gnats swarm the flame. Gavin swats them away, irritated. You’d think the smoke from the fire would chase them off, but they seem drawn to the light.

  “Marcus has left again,” I say, not bothering with a greeting.

  Gavin looks up, surprised to see me. “When did he leave?”

  “An hour ago, maybe a little less. I would have come for you sooner, but he gave me no warning.”

  “Do you want to go after him?”

  I wrinkle my nose, preparing myself for his reaction. “I sent Porter.”

  Gavin sets his project aside and gives me a hard look. “Isn’t that the owl?”

  “He seemed to understand me.” I shrug, knowing I sound like I’ve gone stark raving mad. “I think there’s at least a remote chance he’ll track Marcus. Pigeons carry messages after all, so why can’t the owl track a sorcerer?”

  “I think you’re confusing him for a scent hound,” Gavin says wryly.

  I flash him a frustrated smile. “Are you done here?”

  Gavin glares at the gnats again. “Yes. If I linger, the pests might carry me away.”

  Laughing, I shake my head and wait for Gavin to put away his tools and extinguish the torch. Once he’s finished, we head for the inn together.

  The door to the general goods shop opens as we walk by. Kella spots us and freezes on the porch. Her eyes move from Gavin, to me, and then back to Gavin again.

  “Good evening, Kella,” Gavin says, giving her a courteous nod, though he doesn’t stop.

  “Evening,” she says softly. Her eyes land on me again, and she looks like she’s silently asking me why I would do this to her.

  I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say, especially with Gavin standing right here by my side.

  The girl adjusts her shawl, lowers her head, and walks away quickly as if she’s trying to escape.

  I groan under my breath, feeling horrible.

  “It’s not your fault,” Gavin says quietly.
“I’ve never had feelings for her, and I never will.”

  “Yes, but there is no pain like that of unrequited love.”

  If there’s anything I know, it’s that. I spent years pining over Gavin.

  “She’ll find someone,” he says quietly. “Someone who loves her back.”

  And that may be, but it doesn’t make me feel any better now.

  We arrive at the inn. For once, Rune isn’t waiting for us.

  “I’ll go inside and fetch him,” Gavin says.

  I cross my arms as I wait, feeling conspicuous alone on the street. Fortunately, it doesn’t take Gavin long to return with Rune in tow.

  I just catch the last of their quiet conversation as they walk through the door. “Apparently, she sent the owl after him, ” Gavin finishes.

  “You never mentioned you had an owl at your disposal,” Rune says when he spots me, looking delighted—and earning a skeptical look from Gavin.

  I roll my eyes. “Next time I meet someone, I will say, ‘Hello, I am Lady Brynn Decarra. I live with a cantankerous owl.’”

  Rune laughs. “See that you do.”

  Narrowing my eyes at the usually abrupt and aloof elf, I say, “You’re in an oddly jolly mood.”

  “We’re close to her. I can feel it.”

  “That may be, but even if we find the gateway, we still don’t have a tether.”

  The elf holds up a book that he’s carrying under his arm and taps the cover. “True. But I went to Heston last week, and I just so happened to find a book explaining how to create one.”

  “You found a book that speaks of the faerie realm?” I question.

  “No.” Rune frowns. “It’s speaking of tethers sorcerers use to travel between our worlds. But I believe the idea is the same.”

  Let us hope so.

  25

  “Are you sure this is safe?” Brynn asks as she peers into the dark trees.

  The wind makes the tall pines sway, and one in the distance sounds like a creaking door—admittedly not the most comforting sound in the dark of night.

  “Where else would you have us go?” Rune says absently, peering at the objects he’s spread on the ground in front of him.