An Unexpected Apprentice

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “It is a marvel,” Serafina said at last.

  “What comes next?” Captain Teryn asked, as they continued downhill toward the next chamber. The light was brighter at the foot of the path.

  “A series of lower chambers,” Edynn said, “many domiciles, and beyond them the entrance to the dwarfhollow in the Oros river valley, a lovely place.”

  Tildi pulled the collar of her tunic up around her neck and shivered. As was her custom, Teryn trotted ahead of them. They saw her halt, then hastily pull her horse to back up several steps. She threw up her hand.

  “It has changed, honorable,” the captain said over her shoulder, in her emotionless voice. Edynn and the others dismounted. “Leave the horses if you want a look. I don’t think the ground’s stable.”

  Rin kept Tildi on her back as she followed the others through the thick barrier. There were no lower chambers beyond the curtain of translucent white stone, nor domiciles or corridors. Tildi found herself overlooking a valley, but one that had been gouged coarsely, almost clawed, out of the earth. Whole glades of trees, some of them hundreds of years old, by their girth, lay tumbled like heaps of pins on the claystained slopes. At the north end, a huge cataract poured into the gorge, forming a murky, irregular pool at the bottom. Wind gusted through the gorge, whipping up the water’s surface. At the south end, a broad swath of mud winding off into the distance indicated a riverbed, recently drained. Silver fish lay dead on the dark surface in between lank heaps of river weed. Edynn looked aghast; Lakanta stricken.

  “It looks like a massive landslide happened here,” Serafina said. “All those earth tremors resulted in massive avalanches. It’s changed the course of this river.”

  “It couldn’t be,” Lakanta pointed out. “There’s no fallen stone. It looks more like someone simply scooped up half a mountain and carried it away.”

  “Could the book do this?” Rin asked, her deep green eyes wide.

  “Yes,” Tildi and Edynn said at once. “And it seems,” Edynn continued, “that it has. But why? Why destroy part of the dwarfhollow? What reason has he for tearing up this area? It can have no significance for him.”

  Behind them, the red lights winked out. The dwarves had led them to the end of their domain. Tildi found she was trembling, and not just from cold. Though autumn had come to this part of the world while she had been beneath the earth, there was more. The edge of the book’s influence touched her. She felt wild happiness erupt within her. The longing was stronger than love or common sense. Edynn met her eyes, her expression kind but firm. Tildi deliberately stamped down the joyful sensation. It was not good for her, she kept telling herself.

  “The book is not far away,” she confirmed.

  “But not close enough to cast runes all around us,” Serafina asked. “Where is he?”

  “Why did he come here?” Teryn asked. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I have been in this place before,” Edynn said. “In my dreams, perhaps, or in the distant past? Sometimes it blends together in my memory.” Serafina looked nervous. “No, daughter, don’t be concerned. It is real. Teryn, let me see the map.”

  “There are no villages or towns marked near here,” the captain said, presenting the parchment for her perusal.

  “Not now,” Edynn said. “But once, there was the greatest city in the world, city of the first kings, Oron. From here, humanity spread to the five continents, but this was the first stronghold. Oron Castle is here.” She touched the map where the gold dot lay. “It is, or was, north of here, in this pocket in between two mountain ranges, along this river. This is, or was, the River Oros.” Tildi shuddered as she surveyed the horror of the valley.

  “You believe that he is in the castle?” Teryn asked.

  “In its ruins,” Edynn said. “It’s been uninhabited as long as I can recall, but there was quite a bit of the shell left. It is a logical place for him to have gone.”

  “Do we fly?” asked Rin.

  “I do not want to risk the thraik. We must make our way along the ground. It is not that far.”

  “The map shows what roads are here,” Teryn said, “but how will we know which way to turn?”

  “Need you ask?” Edynn said, pointing off toward the north. Lightning exploded in the distance. No rain fell on them, but the sky was gray only a few miles to the east.

  “The Madcloud,” Tildi said, shivering. Knowing the destruction it could wreak, she feared to go where it was.

  “Indeed,” Edynn said. “And it isn’t moving. It is attracted only to strong magic, and there is none stronger than the book. He is there.”

  Tildi breathed deeply, enjoying the essence that filled the air around her. “So is the book.”

  “There, girl, almost there. Almost there.” Magpie patted Tessera’s neck. Both of them were covered with sweat. His body was battered and exhausted, and he hadn’t even been the one doing all the running. He felt terrible for his poor mare. She had galloped full-out for more than three days, never complaining. She was so high of heart that she had willingly run herself into exhaustion and started out fresh the next day, as if she knew how vital the mission was that he was upon.

  No more spumes of stone dust led him, but he did not need them to guide him. He knew where he was going now. The Maker must be in the ancient Oron Castle. It had been built in the earliest days of the kingdom. Some said that a band of powerful wizards had created it for the first kings, and some had lived there for a while. While none were mentioned in the legends by name, Magpie was certain that it must have been the Shining Ones.

  Wouldn’t it make sense that he’s gone to ground here? It hadn’t been occupied by anything except bats and spiders for centuries. If Magpie was a ten-thousand-year-old wizard, he would find it the perfect place to set up a new kingdom. But why now? Why now?

  Lightning lanced through the sky ahead. The clouds didn’t look natural. They were slashed with strange colors and hovering in one place, instead of flowing along. It must be another one of the Shining One’s displays of power. Magpie tied his hood tightly around his chin as Tessera carried him ahead into the light rain. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there, but he must do something!

  The horror behind him also set spurs to his back. The devastation was startling and completely unexpected. Land had been torn away like pieces ripped out of a loaf of bread. Villages and towns, he feared to think how many, had been wiped out of existence. The people, terrified and uncomprehending, streamed past him with their few goods on their backs, heading south toward the capital to ask for the king’s help, but what could Soliandur do against one of the Makers?

  The most terrifying thing that he had seen was when the Oros stopped flowing. He had seen it happen himself late the previous day as he rode through a village on the banks. The water, normally several feet deep, dropped lower and lower, until the riverbed was empty. People in the village ran into the sucking mud, chasing the receding water southward, begging for it to come back. They had been insane, but he would have been insane, too, if he had just seen his village’s lifeblood ebb away. Fish flopped helplessly, boats and ships heeling over in the mud. What magic had the thief wrought to divert an entire river? And why had he chosen to experiment upon poor Orontae? Had it not had a difficult enough time in recent years? And where had the water gone?

  He pulled up shortly to the answer to his last question as he crossed over the pass in between the Old Man’s Shoulders. The valley ahead of him had been destroyed, dug out to the very roots of the mountains. He could see the two halves of the Oros on either side of the chasm. A new lake was forming. He was relieved that the Shining One had not stopped the river altogether. That problem would solve itself as soon as the water level rose to the top of the gap. The river road was gone, but that was a minor consideration. Magpie and his brothers had ridden that way in past years and knew all the passes. He turned Tessera away from the stinking, roaring gap, and headed toward a side road, more used by deer and wolf than human being
s.

  A thraik screamed overhead. Small wonder, for strong magic was afoot. It paid him no attention, for which he was grateful, and vanished into the air like a candle flame being snuffed out. He hoped that he could catch up with Edynn and the others. He would warn them … of what could he warn them that they would not have observed already? He hoped he was not too late. He hated to think of what could have happened to poor little Tildi.

  Three days’ ride had given him plenty of time to think about the folly of his action. He was no magician, but if one more sword or set of wits could help Edynn to defeat the enemy and take back the precious book, then he would give his all.

  He heard the sound of hoofbeats, and pulled Tessera back behind a tree as wide as she was long. It sounded like women’s voices! He urged her forward onto the path and hailed them.

  Before he knew it, he was on his back with a soldier in full armor sitting on his chest, and another pointing a spear at his throat. Captain Teryn, her face sunburned and windburned, ripped back his hood. Rain poured onto his face. He sputtered.

  “Prince Eremilandur, what do you here?” Edynn asked, from under her white hood. She looked amused. Probably she had had some mystical signal he was here, one she hadn’t bothered to share with the Rabantavian guards.

  “Prince?” Tildi asked, her little face puzzled. “I thought he was a troubadour.”

  “A useful disguise,” Edynn said. “He has been traveling the countryside on behalf of Olen and the rest of us of the council. I believe he even followed you once, to Olen’s very door, but he is a prince of this land we are currently traversing. Get up, please.”

  “Thank Mother and Father you’re safe,” he croaked. The wizardess signed to the captain, who got off him and helped him to his feet with one strong pull. “I rode to warn you.” He brushed water off the front and back of his cloak.

  “Of what, young man?” She beckoned him forward. The male guard had hold of Tessera’s bridle.

  “The mountains have been moving,” Magpie blurted out. “I could see them all the way from the temple, two hundred miles from here. I sent a message to Olen, but who knows how long it will take before someone comes.” His sense of humor stuck a finger in his ribs and made him confess to the ridiculous. “I galloped here in hopes of intercepting you before you went looking for some ancient, all-powerful wizard reclaiming his own. I believe I know where he is.”

  “And where is that?” Serafina asked. She, too, looked refined down to the essence within her, brave, determined, but still of a sharp, impatient nature. The journey must have been hard. He was most shocked by the changes in little Tildi. She was preoccupied, not sunny and optimistic as she had been in Silvertree. Well, neither would he be, if truth were told, with a multicolor rainstorm pouring down on him and the greatest enemy in the world behind the castle doors.

  “Oron Castle. It’s a ruin, but a big one. A man could live there almost comfortably, even in weather like this.”

  “So we had already surmised,” Edynn said. “There’s little other shelter in this area. We have been making our way there since this morning. The roads are difficult.”

  “I can guide you through here. I have been there many times. I want to help. You would be horrified by what he has been doing to the land. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people have disappeared. I fear they are all dead.” In as few words as possible, he described the catastrophic destruction that he had left behind him. Tildi looked sick.

  “How could the one who went to the trouble to describe each of the forests and valleys in such loving detail crush them out of existence so casually?” she asked.

  “He is destroying things at random,” Edynn said, with a grim face. “He must have gone insane. Thank you for offering your service, highness. We will be glad of your help, though I do not know what any of us can do now. We must try.”

  Magpie hoped that the Shining One’s whims would be stayed until after they had reached the castle. The rains made it difficult to see far ahead, but he was on his own ground. The top of the castle was already coming into view, the flagpole on the top of the derelict tower at the fore, acting as a guide to him. Something about the tower was different, though it was hard to tell in the driving rain. Magpie took a turning that led to a side path, which eventually let out into the yard for what in ancient days he thought were the kitchens. It wound upward and upward, until they were above the level of the trees. He could see not only the new lake into which the Oros was flowing, but some of the damage beyond the Old Man’s Shoulders.

  “Look!” he shouted through the rain. The centaur carrying Tildi twisted her lithe body around, and let out an audible gasp. Edynn and Serafina looked aghast. At this height the ruin of the valley was entirely visible, even through the rain. Mountains had been sundered, leaving a raw wound of exposed layers of rock. Smoke rose from the forests that had fallen. Birds of prey circled and called, looking for any dead that lay hidden in the wreckage of Mother Nature’s beauty. They turned away. Magpie thought he could see tears on their faces. He led them upward toward the castle.

  The side path was still largely intact, though sharp-bladed yellow grass grew up through the gigantic flagstones in the wide, walled pathway. He changed direction frequently, avoiding holes and stones too tilted for safe passage. Rin stayed at his side. The others followed close behind him.

  “Remember,” Edynn said, holding her staff aloft, “we are vulnerable now, but we are even more vulnerable when the runes appear. He must know we are coming. Take care. I expect a first strike at any moment.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Nemeth sat in his throne with the book before him, surveying the rune that indicated the castle itself. He had been preparing to choose his next target of destruction, until he felt that she had arrived. He was frightened. The pursuers had defeated every one of his efforts to deter or dispose of them. They had won through, and now they were here, outside, preparing to enter. He studied the runes and let them guide his intuition.

  At last the fog that had hidden the company of pursuers from view lifted. There, in his mind’s eye, was his threat! Not the tall wizardess with white hair, who looked familiar to him, nor the strong warrior in the armor of Orontae’s enemy, Rabantae. No, it was the little creature in the woolen cloak, sitting like a flea on the back of the long-haired centaur: a female smallfolk. She was the bearer of a fragment? How could she be? It should have burned her to her bones. Yet his sight never lied. She was the one to whom he was tied. She wanted the book. He knew in the depths of his soul that she had come to take it away from him. His nerves were already sorely tried by the Madcloud, hovering overhead like an uneasy conscience. He had tried several times to destroy it, but the rune eluded his efforts. Some wizard in past times had so altered it that no matter what he did to it, it only seemed to increase its power. He was forced to leave it alone, though it shook the castle towers with its thunder and threatened to drown him in an endless deluge. The coming of an intruder with as great a claim to the book as his upset him. Should he flee?

  No, he thought, straightening his back in the high white throne, this is my kingdom now. Every rock, every tree answered to his call. They would come to his aid if he chose. He needed guardians of his own. They must not be human at all; his army of trees had failed miserably, and he deplored the death of innocent creatures. They must not have any vital organs to thrust a sword into, or to feel mercy toward an opponent. Only magic would suffice, unemotional and absolutely obedient to his will. He unrolled the book slightly to find the nearest source of materials. There was his serried force, lying in graduated ranks. They would surprise the intruders. He began changing the rune to suit his purpose. The harsh sound that erupted from the level below was loud enough that he could hear it in the throne room.

  “What was that?” Rin demanded, as they bounded from stone to stone in the last loop of the switchbacks beneath the castle walls.

  “A grinding noise,” Magpie said. “I don’t know what is causing it. The drawbr
idge engine fell apart centuries ago.”

  “It might be back together by now,” Lakanta said, “seeing as he has repaired nearly everything else.”

  “I feel magic stirring,” Edynn said, holding up a hand for silence. She and Serafina readied their staffs. Teryn and Morag urged their horses to the head of the party, swords at the ready. Tildi drew her knife, but she stayed close against Rin’s back. Lakanta had her club, but she had also gathered a large sack of stones.

  Teryn called for the others to halt as the road widened out. She rode ahead, leaving Morag to guard the company behind the last stretch of wall, then spurred back almost at once. Silently, she beckoned to them, patting the air so that they understood they should make their way slowly. Rin nodded. They crept ahead, emerging into the castle’s side yard.

  The rain was so heavy Tildi felt as if she would drown when she gazed upward, but she couldn’t stop looking. The first things she noticed were the runes. The book was so near that everything was illuminated with its own name, blazing in brilliant gold. She looked down. She wore hers, too, over her heart like a badge. She had not seen it so since she was a small girl, when the leaf first came into the Summerbee household. At the time she had accepted its appearance without question, as all small children do to strange things that come without explanation, and thought it was pretty. Now she thought it sinister. Anyone, at that moment, could change or kill her, and she could do little to stop them except retaliate in kind if she was faster. The thought made her shiver.

  Forcing herself to think beyond her fears, she could not help but admire the castle itself. It was beautiful, all made of smooth white stone, and huge, bigger than many of the towns through which they had passed, a city in itself. Outbuildings, like those around Silvertree, huddled within the high, thick walls, servants ready to respond to the will of their master, the great keep. It reached straight up over their heads, a massive rectangle ending in four turrets from which strange banners of white and gold flew. In the rain she could not see their device. One fork of lightning after another illuminated the castle walls in a series of bright bursts.