The Sorceress's Apprentice

by Joshua Jackson

  “What were my orders?” Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing me.

  “I, uh, I,” I started to lift my head.

  “Did I say you could rise, apprentice?” she savagely cut me off.

  “Forgive me, Mistress,” I dropped my head back down, staring intently at the stone floor before the throne. My heart was beating out of my chest and I could feel the magic calling me, which of course would be suicide.

  “Now what were my orders?” she demanded with deadly calm.

  I knew that voice; I had heard it often enough growing up. People died when she spoke in that voice and now it was directed at me. My mind began racing, desperately trying to come up with a way to explain this growing catastrophe. The magic began whispering, telling me to destroy the Mistress as if that were possible.

  “To assist Aidan in any way he needed,” I answered, “and I did that. I followed your—”

  “Then explain to me why the Alkite princess is in your dungeon?” she thundered, rising from her chair.

  “I-I-I thought she is what you wanted,” I said.

  “If I wanted her kidnapped, I would have done it myself,” the Mistress retorted. “Were you trying to start a war?”

  “I thought that is what you wanted, Mistress,” I quavered.

  “Are you insane!?” she shouted. “Why would I want a war with a nation with ten times the manpower and resources we could never hope to match? There is no scenario where we defeat Alkilion head-on.”

  “But I thought if we forced them up the Finsternis Tal—”

  “You thought? You thought!?” the Mistress snarled, rising from the throne. “How dare you think! It is not your place to think; your place is only to obey.”

  “I thought it was a test,” I whimpered.

  “If it were a test of anything, it was of obedience, a test you failed,” she corrected harshly. “I value obedience over thinking and this is precisely why. Do you realize what your ‘thinking’ has done?”

  I was at a total loss. I couldn’t see her strategy; only that somehow I had messed everything up.

  “I do not understand, Mistress,” I pleaded. “I am stronger, smarter, and more powerful than Aidan. I would have made a far better agent than…” I trailed off. “Than…him.”

  As soon as I said the pronoun, everything clicked into place. My body began to shake uncontrollably as with horrifying clarity, I suddenly understood her plan. In that terrifying moment, I saw the true depth of my catastrophic error and I knew there was no going back. Twenty years of waiting and plotting her ultimate triumph over the one enemy that had beaten her and in my pride, I had utterly, irreparably wrecked it. The magic began begging me now.

  “You did not send him to abduct her,” I whispered.

  “I sent him there to seduce her,” the Mistress confirmed in a low voice. “As I said, Alkilion cannot be taken by force.”

  “But how? My potion would not have disguised him for long.”

  “Long enough to put the king and princess under a spell,” the Mistress said.

  “You taught him Bewusstseinskontrolle?” I was shocked. She had sworn never to teach us the mind-control spells.

  “I could trust him with such a spell because he follows orders, unlike you,” the Mistress coldly observed. “But thanks to you, it was for nothing. Your ‘thinking’ has thoroughly unmade years of careful planning and training. Even if Aidan could somehow seduce the princess in a prison cell, you have started a war with Alkilion that cannot be stopped, a war we will be lucky to survive. Not only have you kept Alkilion from my grasp, you may have given Alkilion us!”

  “I can fix this, Mistress, I promise,” I babbled helplessly. “I can teleport to Sennacheriv’s Palace. I could go there and kill him! Throw them into confusion!”

  “Assassinate Sennacheriv!? Do you wish to unite the whole world against us!?” The incredulity in the Mistress’s voice told me perhaps that wasn’t the best plan. “Your impetuousness, your independence, and your foolishness more than prove you cannot fix this.”

  “Mistress, please—” I begged.

  “No,” she cut me off sharply. “You have disobeyed my orders, sabotaged my design, and have put the entire Eisenberge at risk. No longer will you be my apprentice, Athala. Your title and magic will be stripped and soon, your life will be stripped as well.”

  Panic seized me as her words sunk in: the Mistress was going to kill me here and now if I didn’t do something. Desperately I looked about, hoping to find some avenue of escape, some ally. But all I saw were the stony faces of the mentally broken soldiers.

  The magic was screaming at me. I knew challenging the Mistress was futile but I was out of options. If she was going to kill me, she would have to work at it. Taking a deep breath, I embraced the magic.

  “BLITZE!” I shouted, rising to my feet instantly. Lightning arced from my hand towards the Mistress. All I need was one good shot and if I caught her by surprise…

  “Schwind.” The Mistress calmly raised her hand and the lightning dissipated into nothingness.

  I stared in horror at the Mistress, who wore a cruel smile. “Did you really think a simple lightning spell would be enough?” she sneered.

  It was the best spell I had, at least the best one I could cast in the moment and she’d tossed it aside like a dandelion tuft. I turned for the door and ran.

  “FEUER!” I shrieked, igniting the soldiers barring my retreat. Even with the soldiers providing most of the life force necessary, sparking that many fires took the last bit of magical energy I had.

  “Lösch,” the Mistress calmly called, extinguishing the flames, “Bring her to me.”

  I was too worn to resist as the burned soldiers slammed me to the ground and drug me back to the throne.

  “Little girl,” the Mistress clucked, “did you really think I would ever teach you and Aidan enough that you could ever challenge me? You are my tools, not my heirs. Now, you are neither.”

  I felt hands roughly grab my arms and cold, iron shackles get clamped over my wrists. Suddenly I felt myself cut off from the magic, as if someone had stopped up my ears or blindfolded me.

  A new surge of adrenaline coursed through me as I tried to struggle, but firm hands held me down. Desperately I tried to find the magic that moments before had been calling to me, guiding me. Nothing was there.

  “I had these cuffs made especially for you, in case you overstepped,” the Mistress explained from somewhere over head. “They are enchanted to block magic; so long as you wear them, you cannot use magic. It is over, Athala. You are finished. Now,” she turned to General Fulco, “have her sent to the Immer Pool and drown her. You are in command until I find someone to replace her. Serve me well and it could be you. Prepare the princess to go to the Eisenpalast.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Fulco couldn’t disguise the smug joy in his voice. How long had he been wanting my throne?

  It didn’t matter now, I resigned as I was hauled to my feet, still not fully comprehending what had just happened. Part of me wanted to fight, to try one last attempt at freedom but most of me had already given up. I had never stood a chance with magic; now that I had none, what was the point?

  Despondently I let my head droop as I was drug from her presence. The Mistress was right: I was finished.

  Chapter 11-Zimri

  No matter what waited for me in the Eisenberge, I was certain it could not possibly be worse than the horror of the Finsternis Tal. Valley of Utter Darkness is what the name meant, or so I was told, and if so, it was aptly named. I hadn’t seen the sun in the two days since entering the vale, between the impossibly thick trees and constant overcast. The Shachor was encased in a perpetual thick fog that often obscured the banks.

  The worst part was the silence. There few birds or small animals running around. Neither was there a breeze to rustle the leaves. Aside from the sound of the river, I traveled in total silence which constantly left me with an eerie feeling, like I was being watched. Stories of ghosts hauntin
g the valley crowded my mind, making the few sounds echo like thunderbolts in my imagination. Sleep was impossible and my nerves were totally shot.

  The silence and solitude gave me plenty of time to think. I kept replaying my escape from Schwarztor over and over and over. Hopefully Shala was okay but knowing Baasha, but I highly doubted it. She had fought my nemesis while I had run like a coward into the night. Thinking about Shala’s fate didn’t help my mood. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything else to do.

  Around me the fog suddenly began to lift and I found himself entering a lake. Around me, I saw the fog hugging the shoreline while thick evergreens ran up the perilously steep sides of the Eisenberge before vanishing again into the heavy clouds. Tendrils of mist floated off the water and ahead of me, a massive bank of fog obscured the northern side of the mountains. In the distance, I heard the dull roar of what must be the Black Falls.

  Leaning back in the kayak, I heaved a sigh of relief. The closeness of the Finsternis had been oppressive and now I felt free to breathe. For a few minutes, I lazily paddled north, allowing my muscles and mind a chance to relax.

  As I approached the north shore, jutting up from the mist was an immense cliff, at least 250 meters, probably closer to 300. That brought a frown. I recalled the kayak man saying that the pass to the mountains was at the Black Falls. Yet this cliff looked unpassable. Had the Sorceress destroyed the pass after the war? Or was it a small foot path I couldn’t see from the water?

  Icy cold mist began soaking my light linen shirt and wool cloak. With a shudder I hoped the mountains weren’t this cold. Something told me they were far colder, although how anyone could survive such cold was beyond him.

  I drifted east along the northern bank, studying the cliff. Visibility was poor, maybe a dozen meters and there was a large sandy beach between me and the cliff. Mostly the cliff was a massive silhouette with little definition. Soon I found myself running into the cascade that thundered off the east side of the cliff and began working my way back.

  Suddenly I tensed. Over the receding roar of the falls, I heard voices shouting. My gaze dropped from the cliff to the beach, searching for the origin. Picking up the pace, I drove the paddle deeper into the water.

  Then I saw them. Two large men, knights or soldiers I guessed, were trying to run down a smaller figure, a woman judging by the pitch of the voice. With the memory of my cowardice at Schwarztor fresh in my mind, I didn’t hesitate.

  Driving the kayak aground, I leapt out of the craft, pulling my sword free of its scabbard and grabbing my shield. I ignored the biting cold of the water seeping through my boots as I splashed ashore. Instead, I just sprinted towards them. It was colossally stupid but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let some poor, helpless woman get murdered on my behalf. Again.

  “STOP!” I yelled at the soldiers, skidding to a stop a few meters from them. “Fight someone who can actually fight back or are you cowards?”

  At my challenge, the closest soldier turned. Judging by the heavy armor, thick breastplate, helmet, spear, and large rectangular shield, he must have been a high-ranking knight of the Sorceress. That wasn’t cheap stuff. Either that, or her army was much better armed than I’d been led to believe. It didn’t matter, though; I wasn’t backing down from another fight.

  “I am Sir Zimri, son of Sir Amnon of House Lim, knight in the service of King Sennacheriv III of Alkilion,” I declared. “Who is my foe?”

  The opposing knight said nothing and advanced on my position.

  “I say again, who do I have the honor of fighting this day?” I repeated.

  The knight still said nothing and kept coming, now only a few paces from me. My opponent raised his shield, holding his spear against the right side.

  “I demand you—”

  “Are you going to fight or yell?” The woman yelled in a familiar voice. “Because if—” She cut off for a moment. “Because if you are going to fight, then you had better get one with it. Otherwise, you are not helping!”

  Irked at this man’s refusal to do me the honor with identifying himself, I charged. There were rules to duels but this so-called knight wasn’t respecting them. Well, if that’s how he wanted to play it, so be it.

  I wasn’t nearly as well armed as the knight, only my scale mail shirt and shield but I made up for it with speed. I deftly dodged the spear thrust, stepping inside the longer weapons reach. Slashing high, I aimed for the man’s helmet. I didn’t expect to knock it off or seriously harm the knight; just daze him a little.

  Instead I found my sword sparking off the massive shield. The thing was a meter in height and worked like a moveable wall. I had no clue how the knight was able to wield something that big and heavy. Surprised, I wasn’t ready for the counterblow. The knight drove his shield into my chest, sending me flying a meter.

  Dazed and the wind momentarily knocked out, I barely managed to roll out of the way as the knight stabbed. Attacking a downed opponent? Did these Eisenbergian savages have no honor at all? With a desperate swing, I whacked away the knight’s second attempt to run me through and scrambled back to my feet.

  Quickly I went back on the offensive. Again the knight drew up his shield, spear resting against the right side. I charged, dodging the spear thrust and jumping left. I saw an opening to the knight’s side and swung.

  My sword clanged off the knight’s thick armor, stinging my hand so badly I nearly dropped my blade.

  Again I wasn’t prepared for the counter blow. The knight whipped his spear shaft back, slamming it across my exposed right side.

  I dropped to my knees as pain flared across my ribcage. I was so stunned I almost didn’t see the spear point streaking towards me. At the last moment, I flopped left, bringing up my own shield just in time to block the thrust.

  As the knight pulled his spear free, I staggered back to my feet. I was in serious trouble. The knight’s armor was impenetrable and the fatigue of carrying the massive shield and heavy equipment didn’t seem to be faze him in the slightest. Meanwhile every move for me was pure agony; even breathing hurt. Plus, there were two of them and only one of me. Not good odds.

  “Go for the joints!” shouted the woman, who somehow had managed to stay out of her pursuer’s grasp. “That is where their armor is the weakest!”

  I nodded, glad for the assistance, even if it was from a woman. Steeling myself, I prepared for another attack. If I got put on the defensive, I would never win. Taking shallow breaths to minimize the pain, I leapt into action.

  This time, I angled right, instead of left. The knight shifted to match. Just as the knight thrust his spear, I planted hard on my right foot. Instead of dodging, I caught the spear on my shield, deflecting it up. Ducking under weapon, I pivoted a full 360 degrees, twisting around the knight and placing myself behind him. With vicious backstroke, I felt my blade sink satisfyingly deep into the meat of the man’s hamstring.

  Slowly I turned, expecting to see the knight on his knees, defeated. To my astonishment and horror, I saw the knight turning to face me again. That should have been a crippling blow. Yet this man raised his shield and came after me again, the only sign of injury is a slight drag in his right leg.

  “You must strike the tendons, you gebraten fool!” shouted the woman. “Or slash the throat!”

  For a long moment, I was too stunned to move. This…this was impossible. I recalled stories about the Eisenbergians feeling no pain but I’d never actually believed it.

  A strangled cry from behind jarred me back into action. The woman was finally caught so if I were to have any chance of saving her, I had to move fast.

  I repeated my tactic from the last charge, starting left before juking right. The knight again bit on the feint and I lunged forward. The knight’s right leg buckled ever so slight, slowing his recovery. That was all I needed. I brought my scimitar whistling down on the exposed neck, opening it up to the spine. Wordlessly the knight stumbled for three steps and then dropped face first to the ground.

  I ha
d no time to celebrate. Already the other knight was at the water’s edge, dragging the unconscious woman behind him with the intent of drowning her. Adrenaline and the rush of victory masking my aching ribs, I took off after them.

  “FACE ME, COWARD!” I shouted at the knight. He ignored me.

  Already the knight was up to his shins in water and just the woman’s head bobbed above the surface. I came splashing in behind them. Still the knight ignored me. Furious at the insult, I raised his scimitar with both hands and swung it down as if I were chopping wood. It struck home at the elbow joint and sliced through muscle, sinew, and bone, severing the limb.

  The helmeted knight glanced down at the wound with at most mild surprise. I had seen amputations before and they always involved excessive screaming. Yet this man bore it with no more fuss than a mosquito bite. He started to bring his heavy shield around but I leapt forward and slashed his neck. The knight teeter for a few seconds before falling.

  Sloshing to the woman, I pulled her back to the surface with a great deal of coughing and spluttering, the sudden dip having revived her. In astonishment, I studied the red hair plastered to her angular face, a long scar running along her left jaw marring what was otherwise a beautiful face. Then she opened her eyes.

  They were blue now, instead of red but there was no mistaking them. They possessed the same haughty glare, the same cold, calculating ruthlessness that had been seared into my memory.

  “It’s you!” I exclaimed with horror and dropped her back into the water.

  Chapter 12-Athala

  “Son of a spatz!” I spluttered resurfacing, only to face the tip of an Alkite scimitar pointed at my throat.

  “Don’t move!” the Alkite knight warned in a tight voice. “It’s you!”

  “Ya, Ya, I am me and you are you,” I sarcastically snorted.

  I started to stand up, only to have the point of the scimitar press against my throat.

  I flicked my eyes from the Alkite to the weapon and back to the Alkite and arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”