The Sorceress's Apprentice

by Joshua Jackson

  “Sit down,” I waved her down, “Tell me your story. As a noble, I can command you to do that, right?”

  The maid had a suspicious look on her face but nodded, taking a seat next to me. “I can’t stay long,” she told me.

  I sighed. “I’m not going to ask you to my bed or anything like that. I’m kind of promised to someone else.”

  “Oh?” That piqued her interest.

  “Yeah, I’m kind of promised to the princess.”

  The maid’s eyes went wide. “You’re engaged to the princess? Your highness, forgive me for my disrespect!”

  “Shhh, keep it down,” I hissed, not interested in getting an audience. “I said I’m kind of promised, not formally engaged.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that if I rescue the princess the Sorceress then I will marry her,” I explained.

  “Ah, so you’re one of the adventurers seeking the crown?”

  “More or less,” I admitted. “It is a rare opportunity for my family. But I wonder how many of the others were specifically asked by the king to go.”

  “You know the king?” The maid was staring at awe in him.

  “I’ve met him a few times,” I nodded. “But Ari, I mean Princess Ariadne is a good friend of mine. That’s another reason I’m going. So what’s your name?”

  “Shala,” she answered. “I’m just a barmaid here; certainly not worthy of a lord’s attention.”

  “I’m no lord; just a knight,” I corrected, “And a pretty new one at that.”

  “How do you know the king?”

  “The short version of a very, very long story is my grandfather was an orphan who joined the Rabshakeh under the previous king. He worked his way up and was knighted as a commander after a battle with the desert nomads. My father joined the Rabshakeh as well and saved King Sennacheriv’s life during the Sorceress War and was rewarded with a small sheep farm, as well as being knighted himself. In keeping with the tradition, I was sent to train with the Rabshakeh when I was ten and have spent most of the last six years at Castle Zahav,” I explained. “It’s hard not to bump into the king or the princess every once and a while.”

  Shala’s dark eyes were glittering with excitement. “So you’re going off to the Eisenberge to rescue your beloved princess from the wicked Sorceress? How romantic!”

  “I suppose,” I shrugged.

  “Is that your friend?” Shala gestured to someone behind me.

  I turned and froze solid. It was definitely Adam and with him was Nasi Baasha, talking and laughing like old friends.

  “That’s him although I’m not so sure about him being my friend,” I confirmed. “But Nasi Baasha is definitely not my friend.”

  “You know him?”

  I nodded. “Last time we saw he each other, he threatened to kill me.”

  “Definitely not friends,” Shala agreed. “He’s not my favorite person either. He comes in here from time to time when he’s home, yelling at everyone, threating to destroy the place because the food and drink isn’t up to palace standards and then takes the prettiest girl home with him, even if she’s someone else’s wife!”

  I blood boiled at that. Gripping my sword, I started to get up.

  “What are you doing?” Shala hissed, grabbing his arm. “Uh, sir.”

  “I’m ending this.” My voice was tight with rage. “He’s bad enough of a bully at the castle but to treat you like his personal toys is unforgivable. He wanted to kill me, well now is his chance.”

  Shala instantly materialized between Baasha and I. “Are you insane, sir?” she demanded. “You will die.”

  “I’m a better fighter than I look,” I responded with a dry smile.

  “Not my point,” she shook her head. “If you manage to kill him, then what? Nasi Ishvi will have you executed before morning! What will that accomplish?”

  “You want me to run from a fight?”

  “I want you to save the princess, sir,” Shala answered, gently but firmly easing me back into his seat. “You can’t do that if you’re dead.”

  “I never run from a fight; I’m no coward.”

  Shala gave me a warm, sad smile. “You are going into the Eisenberge to face the Sorceress. I would never think you a coward; I would prefer not to think of you as a fool.”

  I chewed my lip in frustration. This peasant girl was right; there was no scenario where I came out on top. Either I died fighting him or I turned tail and ran like a coward. I was in a no-win situation.

  “Fine,” I assented sullenly. “How do I get out of here without Baasha seeing me?”

  Shala visibly looked relieved. “There’s a back exit through the kitchens,” she informed him. “I’ll keep Nasi Baasha busy in the meantime.”

  Before I could protest, she grabbed a cup of ale from a passing maid and headed towards Adam and Baasha. Just as she reached them, the barmaid intentionally caught her own feet, tumbling into the Nasi’s heir, dumping ale all over him.

  “Adamah’s breath woman, what is wrong with you?” bellowed Baasha.

  “I am so sorry my lord,” Shala fell at his feet.

  “‘Lord?’” Baasha demanded. “I am your Nasi!”

  I was so stunned by her insane courage, I nearly forgot to move. From her kneeling position, Shala managed to shoot me a warning glance. Go, you idiot! With a quick nod of thanks, I slung my shield over my shoulder and quickly slipped into the kitchen. The cooks gave me a dark look as I raced through, bursting out the back door and into the night. I ran through the streets towards the Schwarztor gate.

  Chapter 9-Athala

  “Blitze!”

  Lightning arced from my fingertips, striking the twin copper rods sitting in the alkaline solution. The rods sparked for a moment and then stilled.

  “Touch it,” I ordered Elske. Miserably, my servant complied, receiving a violent shock. She yelped in pain and her blond hair stood on end.

  “Good.” I jotted a few notes down and looked at the rods in the cup. It held a charge for at least a couple of minutes. This was my fifth mixture in trying to come up with a way to preserve electricity and it seemed to be working. Unfortunately, I had no I clue as to how I could use this solution practically; I could hardly carry a cup full of acid around.

  A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. With jerk of my hand, I motioned for Elske to let in whoever was at the door. Still dazed from her shock, my servant stumbled and fumbled with the door, finally pulling it open with her off-arm.

  “My lady,” General Fulco entered, bowing before me.

  “What is it?” I asked tersely, annoyed at the interruption.

  “We have caught another one.”

  I sighed heavily. “That is the third one in the last two days, correct?” I questioned my military commander.

  “Ya, lady,” Fulco confirmed.

  “Tell me you took this one alive, at least,” I requested.

  “We did,” Fulco allowed a small smile. “He is in the dungeon with the princess as we speak.”

  “Excellent,” I felt my spirits rise. Finally getting I might be getting somewhere. “Before we interrogate the prisoner, grab that rod,” I indicated the electrified apparatus.

  Giving me a suspicious look, the general went over and grabbed both rods. Gratifyingly, he spasmed violently for a several seconds before wrenching himself away, shaking uncontrollably. Stumbling around like a drunk for a moment, he collapsed on the floor.

  “I cannot…seem…to…move my limbs,” he gasped out, clearly in a great deal of pain.

  “It will wear off in an hour or two,” I commented blithely. “Join me in the dungeon when you can move.” At least I knew the battery held its charge; now I just had to make it portable.

  I considered the problem all the way to the dungeon and failed to reach a solution. Reaching the doors of the dungeon, I took a deep breath and switched gears to focus on my more immediate and mundane problem of Alkilion.

  I found the princess tending to the r
ather sad looking prisoner. To my surprise, the interloper had pale skin, instead of olive.

  “You are not an Alkite,” I rather stupidly stated. Not how I wanted to begin the interrogation.

  Both prisoners jerked their attention to me and scrambled apart. It always amused me how prisoners in the same cell always tried to pretend they weren’t working together on something, as if we cared about that. If we did, we would’ve put them in different cells.

  “I’m Ashkenazi,” the trespasser proudly responded through swollen lips. “My name is Jean-Luc, third son of Prince Henri, brother to King Anselm.”

  After a moment of mental gymnastics, I worked out his status. “Someone with nothing to lose then,” I surmised. “Perhaps you thought to prove yourself to King Sennacheriv as an advanced scout? Is Ashkenazi allying itself with Alkilion? You are worth more than I thought, princess,” I remarked with far more confidence than I felt. I was fairly we confident we could handle Alkilion in the Finsternis Tal but a whole coalition would be too much.

  “I am here to rescue the princess,” Jean-Luc declared.

  “Uh-huh.” I fought to maintain a straight face. “Think if you manage to save the princess by yourself, Sennacheriv will reward you?”

  “With the princess’s hand,” Jean-Luc affirmed. With an inward smile, I noted Ariadne’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

  “Really? That is a rather bold demand.”

  “I’m not demanding it,” Jean-Luc shook his head. “The king offered his daughter’s hand as the reward for rescuing her from you.” He turned a defiant, accusing glare at me.

  “I care little for your delusions of grandeur.” I had a growing pit in my stomach. “Tell me of Sennacheriv’s army: how big is it? Where is it? Is just Ashkenazi in the coalition or are there other nations?”

  “You don’t understand, do you? No army is coming.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “King Sennacheriv isn’t marshalling his forces,” Jean-Luc explained. “He is sending any knight who volunteers into the Eisenberge to rescue the princess. He feels stealth has a better chance of success than brute force.”

  Anger and fear coursed through me as his words sunk home. “Komm her!” I commanded, letting the magic flood me.

  The Ashkenazi flew towards my outstretched hand, slamming into the bars. “You lie,” I snarled. “You are lying to cover Sennacheriv’s true movements. Tell me what his army is doing!”

  “I swear I am speaking the truth!” Terror was etched across his bruised and battered face.

  “Zerschmettere die Beine!” I enchanted in rage.

  The Ashkenazi’s legs shattered with a loud crack and his screams of agony echoed in the stone dungeon.

  “What is Sennacheriv doing with his army?” I demanded again angrily.

  “Nothing!” Jean-Luc repeated desperately.

  “Brenn die Fingern!” I called on the magic.

  My captive shrieked as his fingers burned like candles. Desperately he tried to pull away from the cell’s door but my spell held him fast.

  “Sennacheriv’s army!” I shouted at him.

  “I don’t know!” he wailed. “There is no army, I swear.”

  “You are lying!”

  “I’m not!”

  “STOP!” Ariadne shouted, materializing next to Jean-Luc, fervently trying to pull him away. Using her the remnants of her dress, she futilely tried to pat out the Ashkenazi’s burning fingers..

  “STOP!” she yelled again, glaring defiantly at me.

  “I will when he tells me what I want to know,” I retorted.

  “Can’t you see he’s telling the truth? My father’s army isn’t coming,” she countered.

  I looked at my victim and ground my teeth. Either he was the most committed liar in history or he was telling the truth. Unfortunately, the latter was more likely. There was a reason I didn’t like to torture people: it was a terrible method of getting information. Push people far enough and they start telling you what you want to hear, instead of what is actually true and he was at that point. Besides, he was barely conscious at this point anyway.

  “You wish me to give him rest?” I asked through gritted teeth, seething with rage.

  “Yes!” Ariadne exclaimed desperately.

  “As you wish,” I snarled, sticking my hand through the bars and gripping the Ashkenazi’s head. “Explodiert!”

  His head shuddered for a moment before bursting like a grape, showering the princess and I with blood, brains, and skull fragments. The headless corpse dropped to the floor of the cell, the bloody stump draining out.

  Ariadne stared at where Jean-Luc had been a moment before, frozen in horrified shock. It was probably the first time she’d seen someone die, it occurred to me. Well, it would unlikely be the last. My work done, I turned to leave to work off my rage and figure out how to fix this set back.

  “Why did you do that?” Ariadne whispered hoarsely, stopping me at the door.

  “I had no further use for him and he told me all I needed to know,” I replied, struggling to maintain a grip on my anger and frustration.

  “You didn’t have to murder him,” she replied.

  “I executed him,” I corrected. “He was a trespasser in my province, after all.”

  “But you blew him apart! Was that necessary?”

  No, probably not, I confessed to myself. “What does it matter?” I retorted sharply. “An execution is an execution.”

  Again, I started to the door. “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “Why did you kill him? Why did you kill the Rabshakeh? Why did you take me?”

  “It is nothing personal, princess,” I answered shortly. “I want Alkilion and you are the key.”

  “You really expect my father to just hand you the throne?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Of course not,” I acidly retorted. “I expect him to raise an army and march on us.”

  “You want that?”

  “What I want is the grand Alkite army trapped in the Finsternis where we can grind them to pieces.”

  The princess considered that for a moment. “I see,” she said. “You’re using me as bait to draw my father’s army onto your field of choice. Once you sufficiently weakened the Alkite forces, you can take us at your leisure.”

  “So you are more than just a pretty face,” I mocked.

  “But if I can figure out your plan, don’t you think my father and Lord Omri who have decades of military experience will figure it out too?” Ariadne questioned.

  I crossed my arms and glared at her, right foot beginning to tap. “Your point?”

  “That’s why you’re so angry and why you murdered Jean-Luc,” she continued to analyze. “My father isn’t taking the bait, is he?”

  “The Ashkenazi could be lying,” I lamely retorted, foot tapping more furiously.

  “You don’t believe that,” Ariadne surmised. “So what will you do now that he hasn’t taken the bait?”

  “I will keep executing the knights he sends his way until he does take the bait!” I snapped, letting my guard slip slightly.

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “You had better pray he does, princess,” I snarled, coming back to the cell and grabbing her. “Because that is the only thing keeping you alive.”

  “There is no scenario where I come out of this alive, unless one those knights breakthrough,” Ariadne calmly observed.

  I stared at her, feeling my rage and disdain for her grow by the second. She stared back with a serene intensity. There was no hatred or revulsion or even fear; just a desire to understand and an acceptance of her lot. With disgust, I realized she had never been afraid of me. She had feared for Jean-Luc but not been afraid of me. Instead of fear was a quiet, dignified resolve.

  It galled me. I was Athala, the apprentice of the sorceress and lady of the Gletcher province and I ruled with an iron fist. I was fear and hatred. People cowed before me. How dare she, covered in blood and dressed in a torn dress, stand
there so calm and so regal? It was insulting.

  “I can make your last days a living hell so you had better fear me,” I warned in a low voice.

  Ariadne shook her head. “I don’t fear you; just pity you,” she answered. “I wonder how the Sorceress will take your failure.”

  The magic called to me, asking me to let it take over and kill the smug, self-righteous princess in the most painful way imaginable. I didn’t need her alive; just enough of an illusion for Sennacheriv to send his army. Or perhaps if I sent her body back to Sennacheriv, it would provide the necessary incentive.

  I was just about unleash hell on her when Elske arrived.

  “M-m-m-my lady,” she interrupted, voice shaking.

  “What?” I shouted, not taking my eyes off the prisoner.

  “The-the-the Mistress, she is here!” my servant squeaked out.

  “WHAT?” I spun around as cold fear doused my anger. “She is here? But she sent no word! What does she want?”

  “I do not know,” Elske looked utterly forlorn.

  Neither did I and that’s what terrified me. Surprise visits never went well and with how events were going, I had nothing but disaster to show.

  “What do I do?” Elske plaintively asked.

  “She will want to see me,” I muttered to myself. “Stall her in the throne room until I get cleaned up.”

  “Yes, lady,” she bowed and ran off.

  “Problem?” Ariadne questioned with an arched eyebrow.

  “You may not be afraid of me,” I turned and faced her with a snarl, “But you will be terrified of her.”

  Chapter 10-Athala

  Half an hour later, I entered what used to be my throne room shaking with terror. Her arriving without warning was not a good thing. The last time she had…well, I had a new set of scars not too long afterwards.

  I found her sitting on the throne, coolly regarding me. The Mistress was short, barely 160 centimeters but anyone who felt her ice cold blue glare would never dare to underestimate her. Those insane enough to do so never lived to learn. I wasn’t that insane.

  “Mistress,” I hurried forward, bowing down before her. “I have—”