The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “In what way?”

  “Very studious. I was certain she would grow to be a teacher as Lucia was.”

  “She sort of did,” Ivy said. “She taught me a lot. And she still does.” She stared for a moment. “When she was young, when you’d come home after a long mission, how did she act?”

  Celeste gripped the mug tightly in his fingers to warm them. “She was always so happy. The look on her face could light up a room. Once, when she saw me through the window, she ran out into the snow in her bare feet to greet me. She was such a sweet little girl.”

  Ivy placed a hand on his shoulder. “That feeling doesn’t go away, Mr. Celeste. Did you remember many of the other children back in Kenvard? The ones your wife taught.”

  “Some. I was not home as often as I would like.”

  “There was a little girl about Myranda’s age. A gifted artist and musician. Her name was Aneriana. That was me… or at least who I was.”

  “I do believe I’ve heard stories of a child who was something of a painter and a musician. She played the flute.”

  Ivy nodded. “They say the flute was my instrument.” She grinned and gave a hollow laugh. “I’ve tried. I have a flute back in New Kenvard. It feels right when I try to play, but it isn’t. These lips aren’t really made for the flute. It is funny. When you’re a natural at something, it’s hard to learn a new way to do it. I imagine I’ll get it eventually. But that’s not the point. The point is, I have barely anything left from that time. When the D’Karon took me during the massacre, they didn’t want Aneriana. They didn’t have any use for her. The body was worthless to them, and the mind even more so. They tried for years to wipe it all out, worked as hard as they could to blank the slate and leave me a clean canvas to craft their own weapon. They came very close. Most of my memories are from my time in their clutches, and even then just the last few months of it. But sometimes at night, if I shut the world out and close my eyes, I can feel the shape of the memories I lost. I get a flash of something. The smell of my mother’s bread. A glimpse of my father’s face… they are the most precious moments I have. Sometimes, I know I shouldn’t, but I feel so envious of Myranda. That she has you. So don’t you dare think that she doesn’t have a place for you anymore.”

  The malthrope released a shaky breath and wiped her glistening eyes. For a moment she and Celeste simply turned to the fort to resume their vigil. The light was dimming quickly. Within the hour it would be night again. By now Celeste’s eyes likely couldn’t pick out the dark forms of the monsters on the island. Before much longer, even Ivy’s sharp vision wouldn’t be sufficient.

  “Are we certain the sorceress is still there?” Celeste asked. Ivy wondered if his question was born of genuine concern or simply a desire to shift the subject away from the sensitive direction it had taken. “There was little indication of her arrival. She may have departed just as silently.”

  “No… I can feel that she’s still there. I can’t describe it exactly. But I’m certain she’s still there.” Ivy’s ear twitched, and she glanced to her pack. “Oh! I think that’s Deacon’s pad!”

  She pulled open the flap and quickly found the fold of leather and parchment. When it was free, the shuddering stylus jumped to life and began to scrawl out a message on the page.

  “It’s Myranda’s writing,” she said, releasing a sigh of relief. “I was getting worried about her.”

  “What does it say?” he asked. “My eyes aren’t what they once were.”

  “She says, ‘We have reached a small stronghold. The woman, Turiel, was here. Possibly for some time. A commander here may have kept her in secret. We hope to have that answer soon. Lives have been lost by Turiel’s hand. The stronghold was damaged and now is destroyed. We were briefly taken prisoner, now free. If Turiel hopes to restore the D’Karon, she will have started to open a keyhole. Her work must be reversed, and with great care. Therefore it must be found. We will search, but the surest way is to get the information from Turiel herself. If at all possible, Turiel must be kept alive until we can find and eliminate the keyhole. If she dies and we have not found it, we can never be sure if we’ll be able to keep it from opening and allowing the D’Karon to return.’”

  With that, the stylus fell still again, the message complete.

  “Goodness…” Ivy said, staring at the dire message on the page. She looked back to the fort. “We need to do something.”

  “What can be done?” Celeste asked. “You’ve said yourself that you cannot face her alone. And there is no way to know what she has been doing in the fort. She may be even more formidable now.”

  “Maybe… maybe if I let myself change. I’ve beaten magical things before when I was changed. I know I could defeat her if I was angry.”

  He shook his head. “Even if you could depend upon yourself to change, which as I understand it you cannot be certain of, do you think you could hold yourself back? Could you keep yourself from killing her?”

  “I… I’m not sure I could…”

  “Then better not to risk your life and hers.”

  “But we’re the only ones near her. Something has to be done, and we’re the ones to do it.”

  “Sometimes the wisest thing is to keep vigil until reinforcements arrive.”

  “You said it yourself, a few soldiers won’t make a difference against her. And what if she leaves before someone who can help us arrives? We’d have to find her again, and who knows what sort of damage she could do before then? There’s got to be a way…” She clutched her fingers and looked nervously to the fort. “You’re smarter than me, Mr. Celeste. You must have some idea. If you can think of anything, anything at all, tell me.”

  Celeste gazed into the fire briefly. When he spoke, it was not with the tone of one who had a moment of inspiration, but as one who simply had taken the next step down a line of reasoning. “Perhaps it is wise to remember that you are not only a Guardian, but an ambassador.”

  “What do you… oh… you mean I should try to talk to her again?”

  “I don’t think you should try it at all. But if something must be done, and quickly, it may be a solution. You said she was kind. That she comforted you.”

  “We had a little bit of a falling out at the end of it,” she said with a weak grin. “But… maybe… maybe it is worth a try. I got away from her once. If something goes wrong, I’m sure I could get away again.”

  “Then we shall need to find a way for you to reach her.”

  Ivy looked to the charred remnants of the bridge. In the fading light she could see that some of the supports and dangling ropes still smoldered. She paced carefully to the near bridge, the one that was still intact, and peered down. The waves were choppy and rough below. Despite the salty seawater, the cold had left a sort of slush across the surface.

  “If you are considering climbing down and swimming, forget such foolishness,” Celeste said. “The water will numb you in moments. Even if you could survive the swim, numb fingers attempting to cling to an icy cliff side are a recipe for death.”

  She looked to the fort again. After a moment of thought, she pulled her cloak a bit tighter and began to march toward it.

  “What are you doing?” Celeste asked, walking briskly after her.

  “I don’t know. But sometimes when I’m neck deep in a problem, that’s when I figure a way out of it. I’m hoping that happens now. Go back to the fire. Watch the equipment and keep an eye on me.”

  “Ivy, I can barely see in this light. In a few minutes I won’t be able to see at all.”

  “I promise you, if something happens between me and Turiel, you’ll be able to see it.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” he said.

  “We need someone to stay back and spread the word of what happened, if something happens.” She glanced ahead again, a flicker of doubt in her gaze. “You and I both know if something happens to me, you’re better suited to figure out how to handle it than the other way around. Don’t worry about me. I’ve faced wor
se than this before.” She shrugged and smiled. “Hey. Probably I won’t get any farther than the bridge, right?” She looked about briefly. “I suppose I should bring a weapon…”

  “No,” he said. “If you are going as an ambassador, then it would send the wrong message to do so armed.”

  “Right… Right, that makes sense. See? The two of us are a great team.” She gave her cloak one final tug and huffed a breath. “I’ll be careful. It’ll be fine.”

  With a stiff nod, she set off toward the burnt bridge, hoping it wasn’t terribly obvious how much her final statement was intended to bolster her own confidence rather than his. Once she was on her way, she did her best not to look back to Mr. Celeste. As worried as she was about what could happen, she was more worried about what he must think of her for going out with such a malformed and, frankly, foolish idea. In very short order Mr. Celeste had become an important person in her life. She couldn’t decide if she was venturing off to do this in an attempt to impress him or hesitant about doing it out of fear of disappointing him.

  Each step toward the ruined bridge gave her a clearer look at the remaining creatures. Most lay in unnatural, limp positions. They looked for all the world like puppets with strings that had been cut. Others, like the bridge itself, still smoldered with a weak glow, mostly between joints and in the hollows of their eye-less sockets. None of them offered so much as a twitch of motion at her approach. This, at least, set her mind a bit more at ease. In Ivy and Celeste’s vigil, they’d not seen anything scale the cliff and venture off toward any potentially undefended innocents, but they weren’t certain they hadn’t missed anything. If these monsters, so near their creator, had fallen still after only hours, there was little concern that any others might have survived the waves, the cliffs, and the journey to even the nearest town.

  Ivy stopped just short of the charred wooden planks of the bridge they’d destroyed. With little else to do, she took a deep breath and called out.

  “Turiel!” she cried. “I need to speak with you!”

  The fort was still quite a distance away, and Ivy’s voice had the wailing wind and chopping waves to compete with, so she had little hope that she’d actually been heard. She placed two fingers into her mouth and curled her tongue, conjuring a piercing whistle that she’d only a few weeks prior learned to do from one of the hunters in Kenvard. Doing it wasn’t quite as simple for her as it had been for him thanks to their anatomical differences, but with a little adaptation she’d been able to get the hang of it.

  She gave three more powerful trills with no apparent response from the distant fortress and was about to turn and return to the shore when a dark form flitted out from the doorway and flapped awkwardly through the air. As it got closer, the thing lilting through the air like an old rag caught in a gale turned out to be the mixed-up concoction of a creature that faithfully served Turiel.

  It dropped heavily to the ground, knocking one of the smaller unmoving creatures aside, and glared at Ivy across the gap. Despite its primarily canine head, it did a remarkably good job of communicating a look of disappointment.

  “Um… Hello… Mott, was it?” Ivy said.

  Mott threw his head up in a decidedly theatrical manner, looking away from her and uttering a disdainful chitter.

  “I, uh… I’m sorry about before,” Ivy offered.

  The creature skittered its many legs and turned its back to her, flapping its undersized wings. It was as near a physical interpretation of the word “harrumph” as the beast was able to deliver.

  “Listen. I know you only want to make Turiel happy and to do what she says. Just… just tell her Ivy wants to talk. No fighting, I just want to talk.”

  It curled its serpentine neck back, glancing at her with one eye.

  “Look,” Ivy said, turning slowly and holding her hands out. “I didn’t bring any weapons. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I just want to talk. Just ask her. Please?”

  Mott skittered back around again and crouched low, waggling its body and fluttering its wings. For a nonverbal creature, it did a remarkably good job of making its intentions clear.

  “No! Don’t try to jump! You won’t—” Ivy called out.

  Predictably the creature didn’t pay any attention to her, springing out over the water and working its poorly suited wings with the wind. The flailing and flapping did extend its leap quite a bit, but not nearly enough. It dropped like a stone as soon as it was below the top of the cliff and the wind was no longer aiding its trip. With a meaty thud it struck the icy cliff just below and to the side of the ruined bridge on Ivy’s side.

  Acting more out of instinct than logic, Ivy raced to the edge and held tight to the sturdiest remaining bridge support. As soon as she looked over the edge, she could feel the world begin to spin. Though she’d been working hard to overcome her many weaknesses, one flaw she’d not been able to correct was the fear of heights. Nevertheless, and out of a concern far more genuine that she would have expected for the familiar of a woman who might be actively seeking the slow demise of her own world, Ivy felt the need to help Mott. His spiderlike legs scrabbled and scraped at the cliff face, but he was so far managing only to barely keep from sliding farther down, and then only just.

  She looked around quickly and found a short length of support rope on the second strut that had been largely spared the worst of the flames. She hauled it up and pulled it over, dumping its slack down to Mott. He clamped on to it with his jaws, but the buffeting of the swirling breeze combined with the ice-encrusted stone caused the dangling beast to bash painfully against the cliff. Ivy pulled slowly and steadily at the rope to avoid dislodging Mott, and before long he was scrabbling his way up onto relatively solid ground.

  Mott swung quickly around behind Ivy and then chomped his jaws on to the hem of her cloak, urgently pulling her back as well. When they were both safely away from the edge, the creature wrapped himself around her legs. From tail to head, he was able to manage several full coils, embracing her tightly with his head resting on her chest. He churred affectionately and licked at her chin once before uncoiling himself.

  “Okay… friends then?” Ivy said, reaching down to pat the scraggly and scaly head.

  He chittered and wrapped his tail around her leg again, flipping his head entirely upside down so that her fingers instead were patting his chin. Ivy took the hint and started scratching it.

  When the beast decided he’d had enough, a decision that came rather suddenly, he flipped his head around and chomped lightly on to her hand. He didn’t bite hard enough to cause any pain, just in the sort of playful way that a not overly well-behaved dog might. Then he pulled back.

  “So what are we going to do now? You’re definitely not going to be able to make the jump back,” Ivy said.

  Mott “sat,” which was a far more complex and curvy motion for a creature with eight legs and a serpentine spine, and raised his head high. The sound that croaked forth couldn’t have possibly cut through the wind and waves to reach the fort, but even to Ivy’s untrained senses there was something more to it than what she was hearing. As quickly as it had begun, the croaking ended. Mott then wrapped a few more coils around one of Ivy’s legs. From the chill of his body as it touched her, even through her clothes, Ivy reasoned he was after some warmth. She managed to kneel beside him, shuddering a bit as his coiled tail squirmed before sliding free, and then threw her cloak around him. Clearly appreciative, he released another low, contented churr that made Ivy feel oddly pleased with herself.

  The pair waited and watched for a time, but within a few minutes, Mott’s head perked up and his alert green eyes locked on to a slow moving form approaching along the rocky island between them and the fort. As the form drew nearer, Mott became incrementally more excited.

  The form, moving a bit unsteadily, revealed itself to be Turiel, though despite the mere hours that had passed since their clash, the sorceress looked years older. Her single streak of gray hair had thickened to pepper most of her head. L
ines cut deep into her face, and her movements were stiff and uncomfortable. As she passed the lifeless creatures, they stirred briefly, mechanically shuffling out of her way before dropping down again.

  Turiel stopped at the opposite side of the bridge and gazed across at Ivy. She looked weary, both physically and emotionally. Rather than the anger or distrust Ivy would have expected, her eyes were twisted with distant, helpless sorrow.

  “So you’ve returned,” she said.

  Though the woman made no attempt to raise her voice, it reached Ivy effortlessly. The sound of the waves and the gusts seemed to part around it, allowing it to reach her ears with crystal clarity.

  “Listen. I think… I think the two of us need to discuss some things. We may have had a misunderstanding before. I need to know for certain what you’ve done and why. Would you be willing to answer some questions?”

  “You’re curious. Of course you would be. Seeing what I’ve seen of these creatures, it stands to reason you would be. Come…”

  She tipped her staff forward. Swirling ribbons of black poured forth, as if dumped from a bowl that had been balanced upon the staff’s end. The ribbons arched and coiled through the air, driving themselves into the ground at Ivy’s feet. They split and splintered, expanding out into a dense ebony net that eventually rose at the edges to form a handrail.

  Mott scampered out onto the new bridge, barely a quarter the width of the old one, then turned and ran back to Ivy to again chomp on to her cloak and tug her forward. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind, including her doubts about the strength of the conjured bridge, her even greater doubts about the trustworthiness of the woman who’d conjured it, and her doubts about how much success this mission could possibly have. None of them mattered, because Mott turned out to be a good deal stronger than he looked, and a few well-timed yanks were all it took to get her to stumble onto the bridge.

  She shut her eyes tight and allowed Mott to lead her forward, because though the bridge appeared to be strong, it was by no means steady. Each gust caused it to sway, and it dipped worryingly beneath her step. Still, it supported her as she stepped gingerly across, and when she finally felt stone beneath her feet again, she felt a hand take hers and guide her a few steps farther.