The Wizard's Apprentice (The Apprentice)

by Ayre, Janice

  The softer light of sunset filtered through the trees as they reached Karman's house. Brock was surprised that it was built into the side of the hill, so that very little of the house was visible from the outside, and from most directions would not be seen at all. There were many plants around the house and on the hillside. Brock guessed correctly that most of them would be some kind of herb.

  Inside the house was neat, welcoming and uncluttered. Without a word Karman moved to her kitchen and set some water to boil.

  "Some supper or some herbal tea?" she enquired of her guests.

  Zebulon accepted but Brock shook his head.

  "Maybe you would like to sleep, you look tired, young one," she said kindly.

  "Yes," replied Brock. He was happy to do anything to get further away from the wizard.

  Karman took him to a neat and cosy little bedroom. He didn't expect the room, or the rest of the house to be like this. Karman was such an elegant and aloof lady. But then he didn't really know what he expected it to be like.

  It wasn't until he lay down on the soft bed that he realised he was further away from the wizard than he had been able to move since he found he was bound to him. Once again he felt hopeful, but that feeling died as he touched his throat and felt the collar still there. It was strange though. As his mind grew dim with sleep his last thought was the idea that the spell was wearing off, allowing him to move further away.

  Sometime later he woke with a start, not remembering where he was at first. He rose quietly from the bed and walked carefully over to his door. On opening it he saw that there was a light coming from a distant room.

  He tiptoed along the passageway until he reached another room. In the dim light he could see the wizard stretched out on a bed. Brock hesitated for a moment and then as he listened to the slow deep breathing of the sleeper, he crept into the room. A plan had already formed in his mind and he went straight to the bed. He must find the silver cord and loosen it from the wizard's hand. But he couldn't see the cord. He felt the cord attached to his collar and followed it with his hand until he found where it rested in Zebulon's hand. Holding his breath and trying not to tremble, Brock gently and slowly began to lift the large hand from the cord. As he did so, Zebulon moved his hand and almost captured the boy's hand in his.

  Withdrawing from the room as quietly as he had come, Brock decided that it wasn't the best idea. It was time to explore the rest of the house and then another solution may come to him. He walked all over the house. Even though all the rooms were dim, they had a soft glowing light, and Brock could see they were richly furnished. There was no restraint to his wandering which gave him yet another idea. He made his way to the outside door. Before opening it, he glanced nervously around. There was no sign of the wizard. All he had to do was get outside and he would be free. Quickly and quietly he opened the door. As soon as he placed one foot outside he felt the collar pull tight. He looked back into the house to see if Zebulon had woken. There was no sign of him. Brock realised then that he could only travel as far away from the wizard as he would permit.

  After failing in the escape plan he decided to take a look in the room where Karman was working. She was sitting at a desk intently examining certain concoctions and writing something into a book. As Brock entered the room she looked up.

  "What do you want?" she asked impatiently.

  "I need your help," said Brock timidly.

  "Really, are you sick?" she responded.

  "No not really, I just need to be free of the wizard and get back to my home," he said.

  To this request Karman gave a soft laugh. "What do you think, that I'm a wizard? Anyway even if I could I wouldn't"

  "Why not, don't you think it is wrong to take me from my home?"

  "Well I think you had a part in this too. You could have been punished much more for what you did. And...I won't help you because I don't want Zebulon blowing the roof off my house in his temper."

  "But," said Brock, becoming very agitated and ignoring most of what Karman had said, "You made the potion so you should be able to undo it. He doesn't even need to know."

  Karman was becoming more impatient and a little cross. "The potion is combined with the wizard's magic and only he can end it when he is ready. Go, make the best of what you have and consider yourself fortunate to have such a rare opportunity."

  Brock could be very stubborn when he wanted something. Unfortunately what he wanted tended to only be something that he believed would benefit him. He hadn't learned to think of others. "If you won't help me," he said, getting angry himself, "Then I'll just have to go through all your herbs and potions to find a cure for myself!"

  "You silly boy," said Karman. "Taking my potions without knowing what they might do would be very dangerous. You may well find you have turned yourself into some creature far worse than what Zebulon had planned, or what you could dream up yourself. Now leave before I wake Zebulon and have him put a spell of silence on you."

  Karman bent her head once more to her work and took no more notice of the troubled boy, but a faint smile touched her lips.

  The boy did not see this. He left the room, his head bowed in rejection. It was going to be a long night. For what seemed like hours he lay awake. He thought he was thinking hard but at the end of it all he knew his thoughts were going around in circles. He gave one grim smile as the last thought hit him, if Zebulon was reading his thoughts, it would be driving him crazy. But the wizard slept soundly in the other room, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Yet he did have troubles, but for now he would keep them to himself.

  Brock finally fell asleep again and didn't wake until light and the sounds from in the house woke him once more to the reality of his fate. As Brock washed and dressed, the great smells coming from Karman's kitchen gave him some pleasure. He was hungry again and ready to enjoy some good food. A disturbing thought came to him, what if Zebulon wouldn't let him eat. This was followed by another thought which gave him a thrill. He couldn't travel without some clothes and other personal things, Zebulon would have to let him go home and fetch his belongings. As soon as he thought that he tried hard to think of something else so Zebulon wouldn't know his brilliant plan.

  Zebulon and Karman were already seated at the table when Brock entered the kitchen. It seemed such a comfortable and normal scene that Brock felt almost at ease. The food looked as good as it smelt. Brock was surprised that such a stately lady as Karman could cook. He sat tentatively on the edge of his chair but didn't reach for any food.

  "Come," said Karman encouragingly. "Eat up, because you'll need plenty of energy for your trip." She placed a cup of steaming hot herbal tea in front of him.

  The other two smiled at him. Brock was not used to this treatment when it came to food. Everyone was always telling him not to be greedy. As he served himself to ample helpings of the various foods, and the others looked on smiling, he began thinking about Karman's remark. He liked the invitation to "eat up" but he was not so sure about the "energy" and "trip" parts.

  " Do you like that, young lad?" asked Zebulon.

  "Mmmm...as," mumbled Brock through a large mouthful.

  "It's the herbs and spice Karman uses in her cooking," said Zebulon,

  Karman and Zebulon laughed as Brock threw down his fork and almost choked on his food at the mention of herbs.

  "Silly boy," said Karman, "they are not going to hurt you. They are good for you. We're eating them too, because they give health and strength."

  Despite his anxiety, Brock found himself laughing with the others. Mealtime was so pleasant that Brock quite forgot his problems until Zebulon reminded him that they needed to thank their gracious hostess and be on their way. They had a long way to go. Brock wanted to tell him he wouldn't go but instead of just telling him, his objections came out like excuses and whining. It was the same with the twins, if Chet or Chad wanted him to do something silly he would do it even if he didn't want to. It was a surprise to Brock to realise he did this. He had a
lways blamed others for being pushy.

  As they left Karman’s house, Brock remembered his plan. "I need to get my clothes and things from my house," he told Zebulon in a timid tone.

  "Not necessary," Zebulon reassured him. He pointed to a large bag he was carrying. "All you need is in here." He dug in his pocket and produced a small bottle. "Here, take this. You are going to need it."

  Brock was so accustomed to doing what other forceful characters told him to do that he swallowed it first and then asked questions afterwards.

  "What is it for?" Zebulon repeated Brock's question in his powerful voice. "Why it's so I can hear what you are thinking."

  Brock turned pale. "I thought you could do that already," he said in a thin doubtful voice.

  Zebulon laughed. "You thought I could read your mind? I wonder what gave you such a crazy idea? Now we need a horse because it is too far to walk. What's that you are thinking, we need two? No, one is all we need." Then Zebulon began to speak in a low strange voice.

  Brock hardly had time to think how awful it was that Zebulon knew what he thought, or that he couldn't understand him, when he began to feel very strange. His face felt all different and his body did too. His heart was racing in fear. What had this terrible wizard done to him now? He looked down at his feet but all he could see were horse's hooves. He tried to cry out, but the sound he heard was that of a horse's whinny.

  "Now you know why I need to hear your thoughts. For now you won't be able to talk. Hold still while I get on your back." In one swift movement, Zebulon was on Brock's back.

  Brock felt true panic as he felt the wizard’s knees press firmly into his sides with a command to go. He's turned me into a horse. A horse...and now he can read my mind! thought poor Brock.

  "No, I can't read your mind," said Zebulon, "Only the thoughts you want me to hear. I've got more to do with my time than listen to all your mind's ramblings." He gave a harsh laugh.

  Chapter Three

  The Journey Begins

  The countryside through which Brock and the wizard passed was different from any Brock had seen before. Brock had never been further from home than Forest Glen. At any other time he may have been excited, but instead he felt cheated, compelled to do something he didn't want. He trotted glumly on, quickening his pace only when he felt the reminding pressure from Zebulon's knees.

  It's not fair, he thought. I don't want to do this. He's turned me into a horse and is riding me. Brock's thoughts moved quickly from one subject to another and he once more began to think of a way to escape. Maybe now that he was a big strong horse he could break free of the collar. He couldn't feel it with his hands, but he could still feel it around his neck. When the wizard slept he could try to break free.

  Suddenly the wizard's voice interrupted Brock's thoughts. "Stop your whining. Even if you escaped you wouldn't know where to go because you aren't looking where you are. You are so full of self-pity you are missing all the interesting things along the way."

  Zebulon's words gave Brock such a shock that his mind went blank and he trotted mindlessly on for some time. The sudden quiet within his mind gave Brock the opportunity to begin to feel and see things he failed to before. He quickened his pace and he began to enjoy the feel of the wind on his face and the sensation of it playing through his mane. He could run fast without much effort. He felt free. He felt strong. It was a great feeling! He looked around. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. The country through which they were passing was changing yet again. The hills were less green and there were rocky outcrops here and there. There were fewer trees now, and what trees there were, had hardly any leaves. Brock found himself liking it. The different landscapes all had their own special attraction for him.

  Zebulon smiled to himself as he felt Brock's change of mood. As he sensed the willing mount beneath him he allowed himself time for his own thoughts. In his mind he could see the radiant beautiful face of Saniyah. He saw her face turn angry, no doubt mirroring his own anger. Then he saw her lovely face crumble with sadness. He could hardly bear it. She had been his life. He thought of the brilliant pendant he had given to her and how in his rage, he had destroyed it. Even now he could feel the great power he had exerted as he flung it from his neck. What was he without her? He had lost many of his powers. He was known as a powerful wizard! If only others knew, he could do little better than a young skilled apprentice.

  After several hours man and horse stopped to rest under a tree. Zebulon took out a small package of food but didn't offer any to Brock. Brock was so hungry. Zebulon ignored him even though Brock was thinking very hard about food. It was thoughtless of Zebulon not to share some food. In frustration he began to look around him. For some funny reason the grass looked very inviting. Brock rejected that idea, it was just too silly. Finally he couldn't resist any longer. A particular tuft of grass looked really good. Brock decided it wouldn't hurt to have a little taste. It was not long before he found himself contentedly grazing on the juicy grass and for a time he forgot his troubles.

  Once Brock had satisfied his hunger he wanted to lie down and sleep. The wizard lay on a small rug and seemed to be sleeping. Brock tried lying down but didn't feel comfortable so he got up and went and stood under a tree. As he drifted off to sleep his thoughts went to the strangeness of sleeping standing up.

  It didn't seem long before the wizard was patting Brock's neck and telling him it was time to be on their way. They trotted for hours before they came to a village. It was a strange little place. The houses were small but neat. There was a feeling of much activity. Children played in the streets while men and women were busy at their chores. They stopped beside a group of children and Zebulon asked if they knew the way to the Brookfield Farm. They didn't know but they were fascinated with the horse.

  "He's a beauty!" one little boy said. "Can I have a ride?"

  "No," said the wizard as he kicked his boots hard into Brock's sides. The sharpness of the jab sent Brock bounding forward, almost knocking the boy over. Brock whinnied by way of apology and the boy thought he was being fierce.

  "Wow," he cried in admiration.

  After many enquiries the wizard finally had directions to the Brookfield Farm. They still had to pass through two more villages. When they arrived at the next village it was late and the wizard pulled up at an inn. Leaving Brock tied up to a rail outside the inn, Zebulon disappeared inside.

  Brock wasn't happy being tied to a rail. He was hungry and lonely. Some people came by and looked at him. Brock thought it was rude that they would stare at him so openly. Some even patted his side. A young girl came up and rubbed his nose and called him cute. The villagers were poor and so most of the horses they saw were big heavy work horses. By comparison Brock looked beautifully sleek and would be the envy of those who desired a horse for themselves. Brock thought humans were strange to be so friendly with a horse they didn't know. Another girl gave him a lump of sugar. As he gently nibbled it from her hand, she giggled and commented to her friends how soft his lips were. Brock began to think this attention wasn't so bad after all.

  When the wizard returned he arranged with a lanky, freckled youth to house Brock in a stable for the night. He was given fresh water and sweet hay. Once again Brock was surprised that the hay tasted so good. When he had finished, he began thinking of Zebulon and how he would sleep in a cosy bed for the night while Brock was out in a stable. He began to feel jealous. He hoped Zebulon was reading his thoughts because then the wizard may see how mean and unfair he was. He hoped the wizard would have a bad night so he would choose to listen to him.

  Brock's thoughts were concentrating on his hard life when he noticed the only other horse in the stable. A pretty filly was in the next stall. She was looking at him and he fancied she was battering her eyes at him. He felt flattered and began to move over to her, but stopped short. What was he doing trying to make friends with another horse? He turned and hid his head in the corner and stayed there all night.

  Next morning B
rock and the wizard continued their journey. Brock felt grumpy because of the treatment the wizard had given him. Zebulon also seemed to be in a bad mood. They travelled all day in silence, each entertained by his own dark thoughts.

  Brock hoped some of his thoughts would reach Zebulon and trouble him, but if he did read any of Brock's thoughts, he gave no indication that he had. He forced Brock to a gallop for much of the way because he wanted to arrive at the next village before nightfall. Brock believed it was because he wanted to make sure he had a good meal and a warm comfortable bed for the night.

  The day was coming to a close and the village was still not in sight. Brock was so tired. He felt so angry with Zebulon. Brock was doing all the work while Zebulon didn't have to walk but sit back and do nothing. Brock had a quick thought. He was bigger and stronger than the wizard, he didn't have to put up with this. As quick as the thought flashed into his mind, he bucked and threw the surprised Zebulon off his back.

  Brock turned and looked at the wizard sitting on the ground. If horses could laugh, Brock would have done so now. But then one look at the indignant wizard's face robbed Brock of any mirth or satisfaction. As Zebulon rose from the ground, Brock saw his eyes. They had turned from grey to almost black. He was in a towering rage. Brock felt more frightened than he had ever felt before and could understand why the wizard had such a fearsome reputation.

  Zebulon began saying some strange words in his deep powerful voice and Brock found himself raised off the ground, his four legs hanging uselessly. Next, Zebulon gave a flick of his hand, creating a whirl wind. Brock was swung around and around. He felt giddy and strange and just wanted the whirling to stop. In his head he was crying out stop, stop. Then he heard his own voice yell stop and he landed hard on the ground. It hurt but he didn't think of the pain straight away because his head was still spinning, making him feel sick.