The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

  Motekeru shook his head.

  Lu Bei stamped his feet in midair. “You made us forget!”

  “I made everyone forget,” the Blood King said.

  Lu Bei’s eyes turned to saucers. “That’s impossible!”

  “I was not boasting when I named myself the world’s greatest sorcerer.” The Blood King’s voice was calm, but his eyes still simmered and the veins still throbbed. Lu Bei and Motekeru knew things no one else alive knew. Turesobei had a bad feeling they would pay for that.

  “If you are the greatest,” Lu Bei said, “it’s only because you’re cheating.”

  The Blood King shrugged.

  Lu Bei harrumphed. “Well, at least I know what you want.”

  “I have never made that a secret.”

  “No one should have the knowledge you seek.”

  “Your master and I had this argument long ago, fetch. I will not have it again with you, especially since you have no better idea than I do why Chonda Lu felt the knowledge should remain lost.”

  The Blood King’s eyes moved to Turesobei then slid past him.

  Turesobei’s jaw clenched. His pulse quickened. He’s toying with me. An enemy of Chonda Lu would’ve recognized my kavaru immediately. And he can clearly see the storm sigil on my cheek. He knows who that represents and he has to be curious about it.

  The Blood King’s eyes shifted back to yellow and he turned his attention to Zaiporo. “A teenage zaboko boy. He looks sturdy, but I see no particular value in him whatsoever.”

  Zaiporo’s shoulders slumped. No, on the surface there wasn’t anything special about Zaiporo. He couldn’t cast spells like Turesobei or fight with Iniru’s qengai abilities. Even Enashoma, Turesobei’s little sister, had a special ability. She could animate origami creatures with a special writing brush handed down through the women in their family. She was also the only member of the group everyone else liked. Zaiporo’s claim to fame was being forced at an unusually young age to be the personal guard of someone as important, and difficult, as Kobarai Awasa, Turesobei’s first fiancée. Back home, Zaiporo was little more than just another sturdy, gray-skinned zaboko servant.

  Turesobei knew Zaiporo felt inferior to the others but he and the Blood King were both missing the point. What made Zaiporo special was that he had faced all the same dangers as the others but without special powers, items or abilities. And someday Zaiporo would get his chance to shine.

  “Let us see what else we have. Ah, now she is a curiosity. Hannya, my sweet betrayer, I see our prisoners have a prisoner of their own.”

  Awasa lay bound on the floor. Awake now, she snarled at the Blood King and thrashed in a futile attempt to break free from her bonds.

  “You appear to be a common baojendari girl tainted by a dark magic,” the Blood King. “What are you, girl?”

  Awasa hissed a spate of curses at him.

  “Fetch?” the Blood King asked.

  “My name’s Lu Bei,” he said.

  “My apologies.” The Blood King smiled wryly. “What befell this girl?”

  “She absorbed power from Barakaros the Warlock when Master Turesobei defeated the Twelve Who Are Three and One. Until about ten minutes ago, she had his duplication amulet and was even more twisted than this.”

  The Blood King raised an eyebrow and sat back. His eyes shifted to emerald and his voice grew calm and curious. “Now that is quite interesting.”

  Awasa did look a little more like her old self and little less demonic. Before the battle at the Winter Gate, she had been a dainty baojendari girl of fifteen with soft features and bright blue eyes. Now she was tall and muscular with an angular face webbed with protruding violet veins. Her eyes simmered a deep purple. Delicate fangs protruded down onto her bottom lip. And most noticeable of all: a bruise-colored, eight-pointed star on her forehead stood out against her exceedingly pale skin.

  “I will destroy you all!” she shouted. “I am Ninefold Awasa! You cannot stop me!”

  Turesobei sighed. Her ending up like this was his fault. She had only come along with them out of jealousy, to keep Turesobei from leaving Ekaran to go rescue Iniru, his…well, he thought of her as a girlfriend. As Ninefold Awasa, she had led the demonic yomon and pursued Turesobei across the Ancient Cold and Deep.

  “She obviously did not inherit the cold, calculating manner of Barakaros,” the Blood King said. “Though I could siphon off a wisp of kenja from her, I cannot see how she would be of any other use to me.”

  The Blood King eyed Kurine, whom Motekeru had carefully placed on the floor behind him. “The not-quite-dead girl is goronku, so I know which realm you just came from.” He winked a violet eye and almost chuckled. “Of course, your clothing was something of a clue. The spell preserving her is crude but well done. What happened to her?”

  “Orugukagi venom,” Lu Bei said.

  “Unfortunate.” The Blood King’s eyes changed to pale blue. “Even I cannot draw the venom from her once it has reached this stage.”

  Turesobei’s heart sank. Kurine—pretty, flirty, strong-willed Kurine—was his other fiancée. She was fun and energetic, had a great sense of humor, and was the only person who could get the best of Lu Bei. He liked Kurine an awful lot, but their engagement was purely by accident on his part. But because of it, he’d been unable to leave her behind on his quest to return to his world, so she had traveled along with him. His hope of getting an annulment upon reaching Okoro now seemed pointless.

  Just like with Awasa, following him had only doomed her. While his friends had helped him save the Chonda Clan—maybe even their entire world—he seemed unable to save them. Instead, he led them into danger again and again. Kemsu and Narbenu, the other two goronku who had traveled with them, had already lost their lives. And now Kurine….

  He’d have to hold on to a sliver of hope that maybe he could yet find some way to save her.

  The Blood King turned his attention to Enashoma. “And here we have another pretty baojendari girl. I sense a bit of power in her, potential mostly and…something secret.” He narrowed his golden cat eyes at her. “You are hiding something.”

  Enashoma shook her head. “My name is Chonda Enashoma. And I…” she cowered, “…I don’t have any secrets.”

  Turesobei really looked at his little sister for the first time since they had left home. Enashoma was almost two years younger than Turesobei. Her heart-shaped face was pinched and gaunt after all their adventures. Her full lips were parched from the cold. But her eyes remained fierce and vibrant. She wasn’t supposed to be caught up in all of this either. Seeing the Blood King look at her like that made Turesobei wish, more than ever, that he hadn't given in and let her run away with him—and Zaiporo—to escape the prospect of an arranged marriage.

  The Blood King stared at her, his eyes cycling through various colors. Turesobei had no doubt Enashoma possessed power. She was of a royal baojendari bloodline and a direct descendent of Chonda Lu just like he was. And Enashoma did have a magic item that only the women in their family could use: the brush she used to draw the special characters that could animate origami creatures. Was that what the Blood King sensed?

  The Blood King shrugged. “I suppose you are of little worth after all.”

  He looked back at Turesobei and after a long while sighed. “And last of all, we have a lanky baojendari boy. Of what he is capable, I have no idea.”

  Their eyes met. He was daring Turesobei to say or do something. But Turesobei wasn’t going to take the bait. He would act on his own terms, when he thought the time was right. Turesobei held the stare for several minutes.

  The Blood King gave up. “Hannya, this boy is a most unusual and unexpected combination. Plus, he has a level head and an even temperament.”

  “I thought you would be able to use him, master.”

  “Tell me, boy—”

  “My name is Turesobei.”

  “Tell me, Turesobei—” the violet-eyed Blood King said his name as if it were amusing “—how did Chonda Lu
die?”

  “The Deadly Twelve killed him. But you already knew that. You’ve been to the future.”

  “I have seen several possible futures, but I paid their histories little attention. What might happen is of little interest to me. So you killed the Deadly Twelve?”

  “With help from my friends.”

  “Remarkable. So how is it that you are still you and not him?”

  Huh? That didn’t make a bit of sense. The Blood King was supposed to be mad. Was it starting to show?

  “Turesobei does not know what he is,” Hannya said. “A spell prevents him from knowing, just as it prevents his ascension.”

  Of course, Turesobei should have known: his special, secret destiny. As he began to consider what Hannya had said about an ascension, the word vanished from his mind. He frowned as he tried to recall what she had said.

  “What purpose does this spell serve, fetch?”

  “My name is Lu Bei!” The fetch batted his wings in frustration. “And I don't know the purpose. I wasn’t privy to all of Master’s plans and secrets.”

  While that might be true, Turesobei was willing to bet that Lu Bei knew everything about Turesobei’s special destiny. That was why he had reappeared, after all. The Blood King at least pretended to accept that explanation.

  “No matter. He is actually only useful to me in his current form.”

  “If you’re going to try to steal my power,” Turesobei said, “that may prove difficult.”

  The Blood King was supposed to be nearly unbeatable, but he had been imprisoned here for a long time. Maybe his powers had faded. And if necessary, Turesobei could transform into the Storm Dragon.

  The Blood King chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. “Take your power? Even with Hannya’s strength and every scrap of kenja I could drain from your companions, that would be insufficient.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to become my apprentice.”

  Chapter Three

  “Your apprentice?!” Turesobei laughed. “That’s absurd.”

  The Blood King’s eyes shifted to emerald. “Is it? You have talent and, more importantly, the ability to do things Hannya cannot. I need an assistant, and I cannot imagine a more perfect candidate finding their way here.”

  “Why would I even consider it? It’s ridiculous.”

  “I should think any wizard would jump at the opportunity to study under me. I know more about magic and its true nature than anyone else ever has or ever will.”

  “I doubt you have a burning desire to pass on your knowledge. So what do you get out of having an apprentice?”

  The Blood King smiled broadly. “First, you must understand my goal. If I complete my research, I will be able to unlock the forgotten origin of the Kaiaru. Then I can return to Okoro, restore our race and create for us a new golden age. But to do that I need an agent who can travel to the eight realms and retrieve the powerful artifacts I need—something neither Hannya nor I can do, thanks to the Shogakami. To that end, I will teach you all the skills you will need to accomplish this task and when you return home, you will be the most powerful human wizard Okoro has seen in many generations.”

  “You want me to fetch you the things you need to free yourself?” Turesobei gripped the hilt of Sumada, the white-steel shortsword he had inherited from his father and began to envision a quick-casting of the spell of heaven’s wrath. It was one of the few Kaiaru spells he could manage, and he could do so only because he could draw on energy from the Mark of the Storm Dragon. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” the blue-eyed Blood King asked politely. “I am your only hope of returning home.”

  “Then—” Turesobei took a deep breath “—then we won’t go home.”

  Coming here had been pointless. They would’ve been better off staying in the Ancient Cold and Deep. Refusing the Keepers’ offer to comfortably live out their lives confined within the Forbidden Library had led to the deaths of Kemsu and Narbenu, and now it might get them all killed.

  “You wish to stay here with me instead, forever?” the Blood King asked. His eyes flickered vermillion. “And I do mean forever. You see, this realm is eternal. Here, you will not age, and food and drink are unnecessary pleasures.”

  “Forever,” Hannya echoed, gazing adoringly at the Blood King like a lovesick girl.

  Turesobei tried to communicate with her telepathically, as they had done when she still resided in Fangthorn, hoping her actions since they had arrived here were some kind of ruse. If she heard him, she didn’t respond. He had to assume she was their enemy now. Maybe being freed from the sword had damaged her mind.

  “I am not the villain you think,” the Blood King said. “If freed from here, I am not going to tear cities apart nor slaughter innocents. What purpose would that serve? And there are no more battles for me to fight. Once I uncover the origins of the Kaiaru, you will free me and I will begin the rebuilding of my race. I do not see how that could be wrong.”

  “I’ve seen you in the past through Hannya’s eyes,” Turesobei said. “I know what you are, and I will not let you loose on the world—not for any reason.”

  He glanced at his friends. Iniru squared her shoulders and gave him a tiny nod. There were worse things he could imagine than being trapped here with all the people he loved most in the world, all except Grandfather Kahenan.

  The Blood King frowned. His eyes ignited into orange flames highlighted with gold. “I do have the patience to wait you out. I suspect a few hundred years of boredom here would make you change your mind. However, your special nature concerns me. The long game may not be in my best interests. So, I must persuade you.”

  “Persuasion won’t work,” Turesobei said.

  “You think not?” The Blood King sighed, rolled his neck and flexed his hands. “You will become my apprentice, or you and your friends—”

  “Will die?” Turesobei asked. “I’ve heard that one before. I made a mistake coming here, but I won’t make another. I’d rather die than free you.”

  “You think I would kill you?” the Blood King said. “Why would I do that? It would not further my aims in any way. This realm is eternal. I can easily torture you until you do as I wish. Days…months…years…you will give in eventually. If not to stop your pain, then to stop the pain your sister and your friends will suffer.”

  “Become his apprentice,” Hannya pleaded. “Help him complete his great work.”

  Turesobei had heard enough. This had to end. If they could defeat the Blood King, they could live out their lives here peacefully. It might be a boring paradise, but Turesobei had Chonda Lu’s grimoire. With years of study, he might one day figure out on his own how to work the gates. Or maybe his special destiny would kick in and provide the knowledge he needed.

  He steeled his courage and adjusted his grip on Sumada. He could feel through his kavaru that Motekeru, the hounds and Lu Bei were ready for a fight. It was now or never. He drew the white-steel blade and cast the spell.

  “Get him!” he shouted.

  Chapter Four

  Turesobei unleashed the spell of heaven’s wrath. A crackling lightning bolt discharged from his outthrust left hand. The bolt streaked up the steep staircase, struck the Blood King in the chest and knocked him back into his throne. But the Blood King stood right back up, laughing. His robes didn’t even have scorch marks.

  Turesobei staggered back, gasping for air and trying to keep his focus on the world around him. The Kaiaru storm spells were difficult when cast under perfect conditions. To quick-cast one pushed him to his limits. They also required precision. If he opened the channel to the storm mark too much, the energy flooding into him would trigger a transformation into the Storm Dragon. The last time he had done that, he’d barely managed to transform back. Another transformation would probably leave him stuck in the dragon form permanently. Often when he used the storm spells, he would fall into a dream of being the dragon—a
dream he feared would become reality if he remained in it too long. He managed to fight off the dream this time, experiencing only a single flash of clouds and sky around him.

  Hannya scurried up the side of the staircase. Turesobei cursed. With her, they might have a chance. But if she aided the Blood King, this would become even more difficult.

  Lu Bei zipped up and sparked the Blood King in the face. The sparks could hardly hurt anything, but they could distract the Blood King while the others charged up the steps. The Blood King swatted at Lu Bei but missed and the fetch zoomed away. With the hounds by his side, Turesobei followed Iniru and Motekeru up the stairs. Enashoma and Zaiporo grabbed Kurine and rushed her away from the fighting. Seething curses, Awasa remained bound where they’d left her. Hopefully she wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

  Iniru reached the dais first. With Fangthorn, she had a good chance of hurting the Blood King. Fangthorn was the only known instance of dark iron being forged into steel. Where white-steel could cut through energy fields and magic, dark-steel could absorb and bind energies. Using her k’chasan speed and qengai training, Iniru lunged at the Blood King. Few people had the natural speed or training to avoid such an attack.

  What happened next, Turesobei had no idea. He blinked and suddenly Iniru was tumbling through the air overhead and the Blood King held Fangthorn in his hands. Iniru struck the floor of the chamber with a dull thud. Turesobei could only hope she was okay as he kept charging forward.

  Motekeru, his footsteps booming, reached the dais next. He slashed downward with both sets of claws. The Blood King deflected one set with Fangthorn and with his free hand caught Motekeru’s other arm. The Blood King lifted the heavy machine man off his feet and, as Turesobei reached the top, slung Motekeru away one-handed. Turesobei slid down onto his knees. Motekeru passed over him and soared out into the chamber. Motekeru landed with a clattering crash as if a wagonload of shields and weapons had tumbled out onto the floor.