Apprentice Swordceror

by Chris Hollaway

  The three other Mages did not seem surprised at Kevon’s presence, and Pholos introduced him to each in turn before they sat at another table.

  The first was an older, somewhat overweight fellow, sitting reading a text, oblivious to what went on around him. Pholos had to wave his hand in front of the book before the Mage took any notice of them.

  “Shofud ’ap Geppe,” Pholos said as the seated Mage lowered his book, “This is Kalron ’ap Holten.”

  “… Pleasure.” Shofud grudgingly released his book with one hand to shake Kevon’s hand. He gave a halfhearted smile, and seemed annoyed until Pholos moved on.

  “Rettun and Pætub ’ap Liffid. Brothers, as you might guess,” Pholos continued, gesturing to the other two Magi.

  The brothers sat silently at their table, looking at a small game board. The lone piece in the center of the elongated board was quivering, seemingly at random. As Kevon approached the table, he could feel the separate Movement runes each pushing against each other.

  Pholos stood by quietly until the game piece flew suddenly toward the end of the board nearest the larger brother, caroming off the raised edge. Huffing, the defeated brother snatched the piece out of the air as it flew by.

  The younger brother laughed. “Keep trying, Pæt.”

  Pætub glared and placed the piece in the center of the board before folding it up and latching it closed. Pholos continued the introduction, but Kevon’s attention was focused on how dangerous these two would be when the time came to deal with Gurlin. Kevon did note, however, that even the sulking Pætub was more interested in meeting him than Shofud had been.

  Kevon quietly processed all the information he was gathering, constantly revising his plans for the coming attack. The brothers were dangerous, in some ways more dangerous than a skilled Elementalist. Attacks with the more volatile elements, Fire and Air, were easily disrupted by iron and steel. Water and Earth were not usually effective or practical for a quick assault. Normal objects propelled by magic, however, did not dissipate when intercepted by the forbidden metals; momentum was momentum. Rettun and Pætub had most likely been practicing against each other for years. Perhaps they played their game often and Kevon could time his attack to take advantage of the brief period when they would be weakened.

  Kevon hoped the opportunity presented itself quickly. The longer he stayed here, the greater the chance that he would slip up and give himself away. Worse, if Holten happened to show up. Kevon would be as good as dead.

  Kevon and Pholos had just seated themselves when everyone else in the room stood. Looking toward the door, Pholos retook his feet as well, and Kevon followed.

  “Good evening,” the stooped figure at the door rasped.

  “Good evening,” murmured the crowded servants and Magi.

  The tap-tapping of the old man’s cane against the hardwood floor, loud in the hushed room, ended abruptly as his gaze fixed on Kevon.

  “Who is he?” Gurlin hissed.

  “A student of your longtime friend,” Pholos said, stepping forward. “A friend who sends his greetings. This is Kalron ’ap Holten.”

  “My master has often spoken highly of you,” Kevon offered quickly. “I look forward to hearing your side of some of the… adventures… you had as Apprentices.”

  Gurlin chuckled, a hoarse gurgle that led into a short fit of coughing. “Spoken often of me, eh? Did he ever mention the money he owes me?”

  “He did. And your book, as well.” Kevon nodded, and pulled both the book and the letter from his pockets.

  A tug of Movement followed by a gust of Wind tore the parchment from Kevon’s grasp, carrying it across the room to Gurlin. The Master’s bony hand shot out to snatch the letter as it reached him.

  Still clutching his cane in one hand, the old man held the edge of the scroll in the other. The wax of the seal writhed for a moment like a living thing before dropping to the ground, motionless. The letter uncurled, flattening out as Gurlin looked it over. After a few moments, the Mage flicked it casually aside as it flared to a blinding brilliance and was reduced to powder-fine ash in an instant.

  Each display of magical prowess made Kevon’s stomach twist uneasily. Kevon had known coming here would be dangerous, but this Wizard was effortlessly performing feats of combat-oriented magic without pause for concentration. How was Kevon supposed to get the advantage of surprise he’d been counting on when Gurlin could set him ablaze the moment he touched the knife hidden under his cloak? There was no way anyone would miss the discharge of magic when Kevon pulled the blade.

  “I trust Brother Holten sent all twenty gold with you,” Gurlin half-asked, eyes gleaming.

  “No,” Kevon answered, shaking his head. “Master Holten bade me give you thirty, for your time, and your trouble.” He paused. “Would you like it now?”

  “Now is not the time for business long overdue,” Gurlin said, lips curled back in a disturbing grin. “Now is a time for celebration, as we prepare for the advancement of one student, and the brotherhood of another!”

  As Gurlin’s voice rose and began cracking toward the end of his last sentence, the servants who were not already moving to finish preparations for the meal sprang into action. It took only moments for the clutter on the smaller tables to be trundled into the kitchen. No sooner had the last servant entered the kitchen than they began pouring out again. Loaded serving platters and brimming pitchers of drink soon filled the center of the long table in the middle of the room. Gurlin shuffled to the head of the table, and addressed the staff, who stood in a semicircle at the opposite end of the table.

  “Thank you, my friends. This looks wonderful,” he began. “Tomorrow is a different matter. We shall have three visiting Masters to attend Mirsa’s promotion test.” He looked over the lineup of servants for a few more moments. “Spare no expense. Refuse no request. There will be additional Magi accompanying them, along with some of their servants. If we treat them well, they may decide to study here, and in doing so, ensure the continued safety of this valley.”

  The servants stood silently until Gurlin dismissed them with a smile and a nod. They filed out through the front door without so much as a word.

  “Kalron?” Gurlin asked as the last serving maid exited the building.

  “Yes, Master?” Kevon answered, smiling and fighting the disgust that made the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.

  “Would you do me the honor of sitting at my right hand?”” Gurlin rasped.

  “Of course,” Kevon responded, walking over and around behind the old man to his appointed place. His hand flexed involuntarily as he passed behind the Wizard, it was all he could do to keep from reaching through the slit in his robe pocket for the knife in at his back.

  Pholos followed Kevon around and sat to his right. Shofud sat at Gurlin’s left, across from Kevon, and the brothers filled in the two remaining chairs on that side.

  As soon as everyone was seated, platters and plates began making their way around the table, everyone helping to serve each other. Kevon thought it reminded him of an evening meal at any farmhouse he’d ever visited. The evil seething under the surface that had been so apparent only minutes before was now nowhere to be seen.

  Pholos chattered all throughout the meal about the other Magi that would be attending the Test tomorrow. Kevon began to feel sorry for the young Mage as he saw the rolled eyes and knowing glances the other Magi exchanged when Pholos was not looking.

  Kevon silently decided that if there was any way he could spare Pholos, convince the young Mage that Gurlin was evil, he would make every effort. Since he dared not try anything with additional Magi around, there would be time to see if he could open Pholos’s eyes and turn the young Mage to his cause.

  The meal drew to a close, and Gurlin began asking questions about Holten, and about how Kevon’s former Master had been doing. Kevon saw no reason to lie about anything other than the letter, or his true intentions here, and so spoke openly about his training. Gurlin frowned when Ke
von mentioned Illusion, but Pholos broke in, telling of the spell Kevon had worked the first night they’d met.

  Gurlin listened quietly, and after Pholos had finished the tale, spoke softly. “You may be closer to attaining full Mage status than you know, Kalron. I’ll not try you for promotion tomorrow, having only heard of your skills. You’ve been Journeyman for less than two seasons, and full Mages are rarely promoted as soon as two years.” He laughed with a rasping cough. “Holten always did push his students harder than anyone else, though. The brothers should be ready to Test in two seasons. Perhaps you will be, too.”

  The news earned Kevon a beaming smile from Pholos, and silent stares from the rest of the table.

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Gurlin continued. “A Journeyman student of mine, advancing to Full Mage in less than a year?”

  Dull murmurs of affirmation from the other side of the table contrasted with Pholos’s enthusiastic shaking of Kevon’s left shoulder. Kevon was unsure if Gurlin had intended the friction from the comments he’d just made. Competition and pride about the strength of one’s Arts, or different learning speeds had never been mentioned. Competition and animosity could be the tools of a teacher trying to get the best from his students, but Kevon chose to believe the old man was just being cruel.

  Hoping to draw even more anger from the other students, Kevon’s lips twisted into a grin that mirrored Pholos’s. “Nothing would please me more, Master,” he said, inclining his head toward Gurlin.

  Pholos continued picking at his food and talking. A few minutes later, he leaned back in his chair and set his utensils down. The other three Magi appeared relieved as Gurlin told them they were dismissed.

  “Kalron, please stay a while,” Gurlin rasped as Kevon stood to leave with the others.

  Kevon nodded and sat back down.

  After the others had left, Gurlin spoke again. “Shofud did not seem as upset as the brothers at my evaluation of your potential… Any other time and I would have said that Mirsa would be the one to be… concerned about.”

  Kevon nodded. “Pholos briefed me on her temperament after we met her on the way in.”

  “Pholos… has a degree of potential.” Gurlin shook his head sadly. “It is possible his best use is as a pawn, rather than one of us. If he were made an example of by you…”

  “The others would fear me properly?” Kevon asked. “This is the first time I’ve studied with more than one other Apprentice, and that one, sadly, had an accident when he asked Master Holten too many questions.” Kevon tilted his head and smiled. “When shall our naïve friend have an accident?”

  “Sometime after tomorrow,” Gurlin said, gesturing for Kevon to be patient. “Even amongst sympathetic Masters, such things are… unpleasant to explain. Pholos’s patron, Tarska, is one of the Masters that is attending tomorrow. He would ask too many questions, and that could destroy all we have worked to achieve.”

  Kevon’s heart leapt. Pholos’s previous Master was not in league with Gurlin and Holten! Maybe there was a way…

  Kevon’s thoughts hardened. He had no proof. If Tarska confronted Gurlin, the tower grounds could erupt into a battlefield, and Kevon would most likely lose a potentially powerful ally. His best option was still to get Pholos to realize how the others saw him, treated him. If he could get Pholos to see that power need not be painful, but joyful to use instead, he might turn him back to the right path, away from the evil he was unwittingly doing. That possibility could save a friend, begin his revenge, and open the door to the aid of Pholos’s patron, Tarska.

  Kevon shrugged. “Whenever you think is best.”

  Gurlin grinned widely. “I think Shofud has the most to fear from you. I had thought to make him my successor, he seemed the most driven. But his is a thirst for knowledge, where yours is a hunger for power.”

  Kevon leaned in closer to the old Wizard. “I’ll only take as much as I deserve.”

  Gurlin’s laughter started a coughing fit worse than any Kevon had yet seen. After a minute, the Master calmed enough to take a few swigs of some kind of potion that seemed to ease his discomfort. “Enjoy the festivities tomorrow,” Gurlin said, finally. “Your training begins the day after.”

  “Thank you, Master. Is there anything you need before I retire?” Kevon asked.

  Gurlin shook his head. “Rest up for tomorrow,” he suggested. “Sometimes the festivities can be… taxing.”

  Kevon rose and excused himself. He exited the dining hall and walked across the torch-lit compound to the central tower building, all the way to the back staircases. Instead of turning to go to the rooms, he took the other stairwell and headed up to the library side of the second floor.

  The first room he passed was a laboratory. He only glanced long enough to know there were potions in progress; he did not want to tamper with potions he was not familiar with. He continued on past another laboratory room which did not appear to be in use. Kevon wandered through it, marveling at the variety of herbs, at least five times as many as Holten had accumulated with Kevon’s help. Deciding to wait until later to inspect the laboratories, Kevon moved on.

  At last Kevon found a library room. With a gentle flick of power, he lit an ensconced torch and began reading book titles. The first that caught his attention was a small black leather volume simply titled ‘Enchantment’. He pocketed the book and moved on.

  Many of the volumes appeared to be studies of specific things that Kevon had no time at present to be interested in. He kept looking until he spotted a faded, tattered book lying on top of one of the bookcases. The words ‘Advanced Elemental Combat’ were barely legible on the binding. Kevon smiled and pocketed that book as well.

  Done looking for books, Kevon looked around at the other things in the library. Several wooden staves were set on holding pegs in one case. Kevon felt the magic as he neared the case, not as strongly as he had felt the spell on the street in Navlia, but similar. He reached out to take the top staff, noticing that one end of it was much darker than the rest of the wood. Touching the staff brought instant awareness. The symbol for Fire formed in his head and would not go away, though it did not fill with power. Kevon examined the darkened end, and saw the rune carved in the end of the staff. A staff Enchanted for focusing Fire magic? Kevon wondered to himself as he placed it back on the pegs.

  Leaving the other staves on their pegs, Kevon picked up a small wooden sphere that was lying on a shelf. The symbol for Light entered his mind, and Kevon found it drawn on the flat bottom of the almost spherical object. As soon as he saw the rune, the sphere flared brilliantly, not even the surprise of the sudden light caused the symbol to waver for a moment. Wary of the excess light, Kevon put the sphere back on its shelf and moved on.

  The next shelf held bottles of ink. Kevon looked at all of the colors, took two of the three bottles of red ink, and shuffled the other colors around so that the red would not be missed.

  Satisfied with his newly acquired supplies, Kevon extinguished the torch on his way out of the library. He hurriedly retraced his steps back down the hallway, and went down the rounded stairway to the first floor. After listening for a few seconds and hearing nothing, Kevon walked quietly up the stairs and down the hallway to his room.

  Chapter 30

  Kevon startled awake in the complete darkness of his room. He reflexively brought his Illusion of light into being, throwing sharp shadows against the stone walls. Nothing appeared out of place, and after a few seconds of silence, Kevon released his Illusion in favor of the torch he lit on the wall.

  The three fire scrolls he’d hastily scribed before going to sleep were dried on the desk near the bed. Kevon grimaced as he re-checked the imperfectly drawn runes. He’d hoped they would turn out better, but as long as they worked half as well as the one he’d scribed before, they would suit his purposes. He turned to walk to the washbasin, and took two steps before he realized that he could feel the scrolls.

  Kevon stopped and turned back around. There was not as much det
ail in his mind as he’d seen when sensing magic being, or about to be cast. The scrolls were more of a flicker at the periphery of his mind’s eye, but they were there. The other scrolls in his saddlebags were gently poking into his awareness, also.

  Great, Kevon thought, as the ramifications of this new discovery bloomed in his mind, giving him an instant headache. I’ve only been around scrolls and Enchantments for a short while, and if I can sense them, I have to assume everyone else can. He wondered what Pholos and Mirsa had been thinking about the scrolls he’d been packing around when he met them. At least my first Fire scroll didn’t make it this far, that could have wrecked everything, he thought grimly.

  Kevon spent the next few minutes using up the Fire scrolls. He picked up the first scroll, and the crudely drawn rune sprang instantly to mind. Kevon felt the power stored in the scroll, like a stoppered flask waiting to be opened. With just the slightest mental nudge, the scroll activated. Under the focused attention of a trained Mage, the magic released as intended, and a jet of flame lanced from Kevon’s palm, playing harmlessly over the bare stone of the wall he had aimed at. The outline of the inked rune on the parchment glowed red, then the parchment puffed to ash in his fingers.

  Curious, Kevon rolled the second scroll up as if for storage. The imperfect rune kept its shape in his mind’s eye, and Kevon whirled around to point the scroll like a wand toward the same spot on the wall. The released jet of flame erupted from the end of the curled-up scroll, making a soft whooshing noise with its passage from the confined space. The rolled parchment turned to ashes in the same manner as the first.

  Kevon rolled the last parchment up and sat for a minute, thinking. He stared at the space on the wall where his previous attacks had only smudged the stone faintly. Upset by the waste of time and magic invested in the now-useless scrolls, Kevon hurled the scroll at the wall, activating it just before he released it.

  The scroll sailed toward the wall, flames licking out both ends of the roll, curling around to lap hungrily at the unlit outside surface. When the scroll impacted the wall, the rune inside fractured prematurely, releasing the rest of its stored energy at once. The remainder of the magic erupted with a loud bang, amplified by the bare stone that comprised most of the room. Several rock chips skittered across the floor, blasted from a small indentation where the scroll hit. The porcelain pitcher by the washbasin rocked back and forth, kept upright only by the water still left in the bottom half of the vessel.