The Blood King’s Apprentice

by David Alastair Hayden

  “Oh.” He scratched his head. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  “She’ll come around.”

  “That’s what Lu Bei said.”

  “Oh, yuck. I don’t want to start agreeing with the fetch.”

  Turesobei chuckled. “I really am sorry for what happened.”

  “Don’t be. You did your best. And you’re doing what’s right.”

  “I hope so.”

  She smiled. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Turesobei. Anything. You risked bringing me here. You saved me from becoming a monster. I will always be in your debt. I would die for you if needed.”

  “Awasa…I….”

  “Don’t reply to that. Let it go.”

  He nodded.

  She ran a hand over her head. “I don’t have much hair left, do I?”

  He shook his head. “It should grow back, I think.”

  “I used to spend half an hour combing through it, every night. One hundred strokes down the middle and one hundred down each side. My mother made me. I hated it.”

  “I never comb mine more than a few strokes to a side.”

  “That’s obvious. Everyone can tell.”

  They both laughed.

  “I don’t care if it grows back,” she said. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “You’re going to want some of it to grow back so it evens out.”

  “That bad, huh?” She pointed toward her shelves. “Could you bring me the mirror?”

  “Er, sure.”

  He picked up the hand mirror and brought it over, keeping his eyes averted. As he neared, she propped her elbows on the edge of the tub and grinned, exposing her tiny fangs.

  Nervously, Turesobei shuffled up to the edge of the tub, keeping his eyes averted.

  Awasa surged up out of the water, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  She tasted like nutmeg and iron. Before he could pull away, she released him and sank back into the water, licking her lips. He stumbled back and sat down.

  “Awasa, I—”

  “Don’t worry.” She smiled. “I just wanted that one kiss to celebrate our victory.”

  “It—but—”

  “You know, Turesobei, I like you a lot. More now than ever. But I don’t think I’ve ever actually loved you.”

  He stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “You weren’t expecting that after a kiss, were you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “To be honest, I never loved you either. I liked you. And you were popular and very pretty. But—”

  “Am I still pretty?”

  He considered it a moment. She looked entirely different now: her tall, muscled frame, her paper-white skin, her violet eyes, the purple star on her forehead….

  “You’re strong, exotic and unique now. I think that makes you prettier.”

  A big smile warmed her face. “You’re still cute. And still clueless. Now that I’ve had my post-danger kiss from you, I’m ready to move on.”

  “Friends then?”

  “You think we could be good friends someday?”

  “I think we are good friends now. Especially after what we just went through together.”

  “That makes me happy,” she said. “Because I’ve realized something: I love you now, but only as a friend.” She curled her lips. “Romantically, you just don’t do anything for me. You’re too sweet and agreeable. I think I need someone who’s more of a challenge.”

  “You really are a new Awasa, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a better Awasa in some ways. But you have no idea how much effort it takes for me to maintain control.” She waved her hands at him. “Go get some rest. If you need help again, I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, Wasa.”

  “You’re welcome, Sobei.”

  * * *

  On the next night, he joined everyone, except Awasa who was still resting, for dinner in the Dining Hall. Kurine sat beside him, gave him a peck on the cheek and apologized. Iniru glared at them both. Zaiporo gave him a, “what can you do?” shrug. And Enashoma repeatedly shot a blend of concerned and scathing looks at him.

  He wanted to tell her that he had to work hard and fast. That there was no way they’d ever escape the Blood King if he didn’t take risks, and big ones at that. Because the odds were all stacked against them and in the end, he’d probably have to gamble everything to even have a chance of saving them. But he decided it was better to avoid another argument. Besides, maybe she simply wasn’t ready to face the truth.

  He ate quickly then announced, “I’ll be working all night.”

  “Don’t you need more rest?” Kurine asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Be safe then,” she said. “And do your best.”

  He stood and nodded firmly. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Sobei, you can’t trust Awasa,” Iniru said. “You know that, right?”

  “I trust Awasa. And while she may be unstable, she risked a lot to help all of us.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Niru. We’ve got to learn to trust each other. These missions are going to be so difficult that the Blood King thinks I will need all of your help to succeed. And that's with me casting spells and deploying the Storm Dragon. Think about that.”

  Before anyone else could speak, he rushed out into the Courtyard and used the scroll to teleport into the Workshop. This was the first time he’d done it from someplace other than his room. He was nauseated when he arrived, but it soon passed.

  Two new spell pouches lay on the worktable. Each bore a powerful mark of perpetual concealment.

  “A gift,” the emerald-eyed Blood King said as he strolled down the steps. “To acknowledge your accomplishment. I believe you had planned to do this for yourself, yes?”

  “Thank you,” Turesobei said with surprise. “I had been studying the marks for it.”

  “Now you will not have to waste your time on it. Hannya tells me your friends were unhappy with the risks you took. She was displeased as well. But that is because she is enjoying teaching Awasa and imagines her to be a protégé. She is trying to shape the girl into her image. A silly endeavor, if you ask me.”

  That was exactly what Turesobei feared. In her current state Awasa might be malleable and easily corrupted. Just because the Warlock wouldn’t be able to dominate her mind now didn’t mean she couldn’t be influenced in other ways, especially by someone as devious and likable as Hannya.

  “As for your friends, they do not understand what you and I understand: that great rewards require great risks. More importantly, achievement requires sacrifice. I told you that your weakness is your failure to understand the true power of sacrifice. But that, I think, is changing. You were willing to sacrifice Awasa, and she was willing to sacrifice herself for you.”

  “That’s not how I saw it.”

  “How you see it does not matter. Your instincts and willpower, her mudras, your blood and Fangthorn should not have been enough to do what you did. So how do you think you managed it?”

  “Sacrifice,” Turesobei answered dully.

  “Precisely. Her willingness to charge the dragon magnified the sacrifice you two had already made. And the two of you had a bond already. She sacrificed her life back home to follow you into the greater world, and you faced the yomon to bring her here. These things matter greatly. If not for sacrifice, I would not be who I am. This realm would not exist.”

  Turesobei nodded along to appease him. “What should I work on now, master?”

  The Blood King drew out a scroll from thin air. “I present to you the spell of evoking the Storm Dragon. It was frustratingly difficult to design. Doubly so because after much careful engineering, I realized I had to retool it so that one of your limited skill set could manage to cast it.”

  Gee, thanks for the compliment.

  “Spend the night studying and rehearsing the spell. Do not attempt a casting.”

  Turesobei d
id as he was told and pored over the phrases and multidimensional characters. The spell was similar to the teleportation spell, but some parts were missing and others added. The spell of compelling obedience had even been interlaced into the casting. This was more than a simple tweak of an existing spell. Turesobei never would’ve been able to create this spell on his own.

  When the Blood King returned after dawn, Turesobei knew the spell perfectly. Of course, knowing a spell and casting it were two different things.

  “Now you should test it,” the Blood King said. “Stay in your fetch form, Lu Bei. We need to see if his spell affects you in any way.”

  Turesobei did a slow-cast of the spell, taking his time to get it right. The first two attempts fizzled out. The Blood King made him rest an hour before attempting it again. Perfectly calibrated or not, if he messed the casting up too much, bad things, like popping into Wraithspace, could still happen.

  On his third attempt, sparks flew out from the Mark of the Storm Dragon and a condensed storm cloud poured from his chest. It billowed out into the form of the Storm Dragon. Turesobei grinned at his success, until a wave of nausea brought him to his knees. Despite vomiting, he managed to maintain the spell.

  The dragon landed and eyed him angrily as he wiped his mouth off. “I know I promised you enemies,” Turesobei said. “But we haven’t reached them yet. This was just a test.”

  The dragon turned and locked its eyes on the Blood King.

  “Yes, he’s technically my enemy, but I think you know there’s no point in attacking him.”

  In his dragon form, Lu Bei whizzed through the rafters.

  “Lu Bei! How do you feel?”

  The dragon fetch landed. “A little more myself and in control than usual. Oooh, and I can talk. Check that out!”

  “That’s good!”

  “I don’t think it will last long, though, master.”

  Using a wing, the Storm Dragon knocked Lu Bei aside and hissed at him.

  “Hey! Watch it, mister—missy—you!”

  The Storm Dragon growled at him.

  “You will leave Lu Bei alone,” Turesobei said sternly.

  The dragon again turned toward the Blood King and this time rushed him anyway. The Blood King didn’t even attempt to stop the dragon.

  “Halt!” Turesobei said.

  The Storm Dragon stopped a foot away from the Blood King and snorted sparks onto him. The Blood King’s only reaction was a shift in eye color from emerald to yellow.

  Turesobei pointed at the dragon. “Back away!”

  The Storm Dragon huffed and drifted to the other side of the Workshop.

  “Sleep,” Turesobei said.

  The Storm Dragon turned into a swirling cloud that spun into a ball the size of a fire globe. The ball streaked across the room and struck him in the chest. He was blasted backward and landed hard on the stone floor.

  He groaned. “That was worse than last time.”

  “The Storm Dragon does not like you,” the Blood King said, “nor does it appreciate being commanded.”

  In his normal fetch form, Lu Bei landed. “At least I changed back pleasantly.”

  “A few tweaks should get rid of your nausea at the spell’s completion,” the Blood King said, “along with practice, of course.”

  “Anything I can do about the return?”

  “I doubt it,” the Blood King said. “Be thankful that it cannot burn you to a crisp.”

  Once the spell had been tweaked, the Blood King had him practice it again. When he was done, Turesobei wiped the vomit from his mouth. “I didn’t feel as sick that time and it was a lot easier to cast.”

  “Continue practicing. Tomorrow morning, we will start work on the kenja subtypes.” The Blood King took a few steps, then paused. His eyes shifted, one to pale blue and the other to emerald. “Also, while my title, the Blood King, is useful for striking fear into my enemies, I do not enjoy hearing it. That title was not of my choosing and I have grown weary of hearing you refer to me that way.”

  “What would you rather be called, master?”

  His eyes shifted to the morose gray. “Lord Gyoroe. That is as true a name as I possess.”

  With that said, he departed.

  Once he was gone, Turesobei turned to Lu Bei. “Is that one of the names you can’t say?”

  Lu Bei shook his head. “I have never heard it before.”

  Turesobei shrugged. “Back to work, then.”

  “You do seem a bit tired, master. I think you need some rest.”

  “I don’t need sleep or food here.”

  “In pleasures, the mind recovers. And your internal kenja needs to replenish.”

  “I can’t afford to rest. You know that. But I’ll pace myself and take little naps as needed. You may bring me as many bowls of tea as you like.”

  “Some biscuits and fruit, too?”

  “Fine. Whatever keeps you off my back. But I’m not returning to my room until…until I’m ready to return.”

  “No matter what you do, master, you are going to have to face Iniru and Kurine again and deal with this love triangle you have fostered, however inadvertently. Endless spell work is just going to make things worse, and maybe drive you mad.”

  * * *

  Three straight days of spell work passed. He knew this only because Lu Bei pestered him about resting. During his breaks, he drank black tea, ate strawberries and cashews, and meditated. He practiced evoking the Storm Dragon a few more times, as much for controlling the dragon as for mastering the spell. And he made sure he prepared plenty of spell strips for summoning it. That was possible only because the Blood King…Lord Gyoroe…had simplified the spell for him.

  When he wasn’t working on that, he worked with Lord Gyoroe on the kenja subtypes, the notes that made up the chords he had always known. Once he mastered them, he would be able to customize his standard spells to make them more powerful and efficient. If he ever survived to pass down his knowledge, future generations of Chonda wizards would be far ahead of those from other clans.

  On the fourth morning, after demonstrating an effective evocation of the Storm Dragon and correctly identifying and using all fifteen kenja subtypes, the Blood King said, “Tomorrow you will begin to learn gate magic. You may spend the rest of this day however you wish.”

  “I’m going to continue with my studies,” Turesobei said as flatly as possible. Working with the gates meant Turesobei could start looking for a way to escape, but he didn’t want to show his excitement over the possibility.

  Hours later, while making yet another spell strip, Turesobei heard steps on the staircase down into the Workshop. “Lord Gyoroe, I’ll be finished with this in a few minutes.”

  “Who’s Gyoroe?” Awasa asked in her husky voice.

  Awasa had shaved away what remained of her hair. He had never seen a woman with a perfectly bald head before. It was a good look for her though.

  “Oh, hey. Give me a minute to finish.”

  He drained the last of the tea from his bowl and completed the spell. He stood and wobbled. Suddenly he was very sleepy. He frowned at his tea bowl. He had thought this new brew tasted funny.

  “Why have…you drugged…me?” he slurred.

  He slumped to the floor before getting an answer.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It was night when Turesobei woke, not in his room but one dimly lit by a single lantern and adorned with lily patterns in a range of reds, pinks and purples. Enashoma’s room. Why was he in his sister’s room? He pushed the blanket off and sat up awkwardly. His neck was stiff, as if he’d slept a long time without changing position. He wasn’t dizzy, though, so the drug must have worn off. He was still dressed in his clothes from before. He took a deep breath and cringed. He stank terribly. The result of days without bathing or changing his clothes.

  Dressed only in her inner robe of fine white silk, Enashoma knelt on a cushion, meditating, her fingers twisted into arcane mudras. Her eyes popped open and fixed on him.


  “You’re awake.”

  He rubbed his neck. “What happened?”

  “Lu Bei slipped something into your tea while you weren’t looking. Then Awasa brought you here. It was my idea.”

  “Shoma! Why would you do that?!”

  “You needed rest but wouldn’t get any. And we need to have a talk, all of us.”

  Anger bubbled up within him, then faded away with a sigh. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he would’ve expected. Perhaps because he had needed some rest.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he asked.

  She eyed him. “Not as much as I was. Mostly I’m concerned. But that has nothing to do with what I did.”

  “How long was I asleep? And why am I in your room?”

  “Twelves hours,” she said. “And we brought you here because I wanted Kurine and Iniru to think you were still in the Workshop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need rest.”

  “I’m sure they’d let me rest.”

  “I’m sure they’d mean to, but their competitiveness is running out of control now. They would’ve ended up disturbing you.”

  “Huh? I don’t get it.”

  “That’s the problem.” Enashoma slipped on her outer robe and belted it hastily. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do not go anywhere.”

  Turesobei called Lu Bei and drank some water. The fetch slinked into the room, chewed at his lip and avoided eye contact. “Yes, master?”

  “You drugged me.”

  “Um, yes, master. And I’m very sorry about it, but it was for your own good.”

  Turesobei gritted his teeth, mostly to be dramatic and let the fetch know he was displeased, then released his anger with a sigh. “I guess I was overdoing it.”

  “Quite so, master. I refused at first, but Lady Shoma was most insistent. And Lady Awasa said she’d punch me in the belly or hex me with a mudra if I didn’t help. So I helped. Again, I’m sorry, master.”

  “You just called Awasa a lady.”

  “Oh! Goodness me. I—well, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”

  Turesobei nearly smiled. “What about Lord Gyoroe? Did he—?”