The Magician's Apprentice (17 page)

Read The Magician's Apprentice Online

Authors: Trudi Canavan

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Romance, #Magic, #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Adventure, #Epic

BOOK: The Magician's Apprentice
13.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

On both sides of the stream people milled about, suggesting that the bridge had failed some time ago and plenty of travellers had arrived since to find their way blocked. Most were locals, Tessia guessed. All were staring at Dakon and Jayan, no doubt taking note of their expensive clothing. Several carts were lined up along the road – most on the opposite bank – piled high with goods of various kinds. There was even a small herd of reber, their woolly coats dripping and their bellies dark with mud.

Suddenly she felt a soft but insistent tapping on her shoulders and head. As cold moisture penetrated her dress she hastily created a shield to shelter herself, Tanner and Malia from the rain. Dakon and Jayan were striding towards the fallen bridge, taking their own shields with them.

Should she follow? There was nothing she could do that they weren’t more capable of handling. But it was possible someone had been hurt. Taking care to make sure Malia was still sheltered by a shield, Tessia began to climb out of the wagon.

“Oh, Apprentice Tessia, should you be leaving the wagon?” Malia asked anxiously. “What if someone tries to take something?”

Tessia paused, looked around and smiled. “What? While you and Tanner are on board? They wouldn’t dare.”

It wasn’t easy climbing off a wagon wearing a dress – at least with any kind of dignity. The hem caught on a protruding piece of wood, and she paused to tug it free.

“But it’s a mess,” Malia said anxiously.

“All the more reason to have a look,” Tessia replied, stretching a leg towards the ground. It didn’t quite reach, but she was close enough. She let herself drop.

And felt her foot sink deep into mud.

Looking down, she lifted her skirt enough to see that she had sunk well past the top of the dainty boots Malia had dug up from some store of feminine clothes in the Residence – possibly Dakon’s mother’s. They had been a compromise. Tessia had wanted sturdy boots for the journey, while Malia had wanted her to wear delicate shoes worthy of palace courtiers.

Holding on to the wagon for support, Tessia reached out with her other foot, seeking firmer ground. Fortunately she found it a mere step away. With one leg now on a solid base, she pulled her foot from the mud.

And it slid out of her dainty boot, leaving the mud free to slowly slump and cave in over the top. Malia sighed.

“See what I mean?” she said sadly. “Probably ruined them. Should I dig it out?”

Tessia looked up at Malia and felt a stab of guilt. The poor girl would have quite a job cleaning mud off clothes and shoes tonight. Then she looked at the shrinking hole. Muddy shoes shouldn’t put anyone off helping others. Still, there was no need to make Malia’s life any harder than necessary.

Ignoring the lingering headache from Dakon’s lessons, Tessia focused her mind on the ground and exerted her will. Mud now flowed away from the hole. As the edge of the leather appeared she concentrated on building a magical force down and around the shoe, cupping it and drawing it up. It came free with a sucking sound. She grabbed it and felt liquid sloshing around inside, tipped it upside down to let the water out, then slipped it back on her foot. Malia made a wordless protest.

Tessia looked up and shrugged. “If I walk around without a shoe I’m going to get my stockings just as dirty.”

Malia wrinkled her nose in reply.

Turning away, Tessia headed towards the bridge. A large horse stood tethered nearby, broken harness still hanging from flanks and neck. Jayan and Dakon were standing on one side of the bridge, hands on hips and, from the looks on their faces, arguing. She caught a few words as she approached.

“—me do it.”

“No, it’s too easy to break a rib or—”

As she rounded the remains of the bridge she saw what they were discussing. A man was clinging to one of the broken support columns, midstream. He wore the typical leather vest of a metal worker.
I can’t believe they’re arguing about this. He could fall in at any moment.

“How long has he been there?” she asked, moving quickly to Dakon’s side. “He looks tired.”

Jayan’s mouth closed with an audible snap and he looked away. Dakon glanced at her, than back at the stranded metal worker. His eyes narrowed.

The man’s eyes flew open as he began to move away from the column. He gave a shout and clawed at the beam; then, as he was drawn too far away to reach it, scrabbled at the air. Then he belatedly realised he was moving upward, not falling downward, and he went limp. It was a strange sight, this sodden, stunned man floating slowly through the air towards the bank of the stream.

When his feet met the ground his legs folded and he collapsed. Tessia moved to his side. He didn’t appear to have any wounds. His gaze was unfixed and he was breathing rapidly. She felt for his pulse and counted. His skin was cold. He needed warmth and dry clothing.

Looking up, she found a ring of people standing around her, their expressions full of curiosity and puzzlement. Dakon stood within the ring, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“He’s dazed,” she told him. “He needs drying out and warming up. Is there anyone here who knows him? A relative? Friend?”

“Boy was with him,” a man in the crowd said, stepping forward. “Washed up downriver. Drowned.”

A son? Or apprentice? She grimaced and looked down at the man, whose distant expression hadn’t changed. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. She hoped so. That was the last piece of information he needed right now.

“I’d take him home to his wife.” The speaker glanced at the bridge. “I’m headed that way, but . . .” He waved at the broken bridge.

Home is on the other side
, she guessed.

“I’ll deal with that,” Dakon said. “Stay here.” As he walked away the small crowd parted to let him through. Jayan hurried after. The pair approached the trees that grew on one side of the road, part of a forest maintained by the local lord, and disappeared in the undergrowth.

Tessia looked at the man who had spoken, then glanced down at the prone metal worker.

“You know him?”

The man shrugged. “I’ve bought wares from him. He lives in Little Smoketown, a way down past the stream.”

“Serves him right,” someone in the crowd said. “Took too much weight over the bridge.”

“Didn’t wait, either. Travellers aren’t supposed to cross more than one cart at a time,” someone else argued. “Lord Gilar said so.”

“How’re
we
supposed to know that?” another said. “If your lord knew the bridge might break, he should’ve fixed it.”

“Have to now,” the first speaker said quietly.

“Won’t,” said a short, stocky man who had come up to peer at the metal worker. “Too miserly. He’ll make us use the southern bridge.”

Groans came from several onlookers, and a few muttered curses. The crowd had crept forward, drawn by curiosity and the conversation.

“This road is the most direct route for Lord Dakon to take to the city,” Tessia told them. “If Lord Gilar is resistant to local voices, maybe my master’s need for a safe bridge will persuade him.”

The crowd fell silent and she guessed they were wondering whether she would repeat what they’d said to Lord Dakon. Expressions became wary. She could not help wondering if people living on Dakon’s land spoke as resentfully of him. Would he leave a dangerous bridge in place? But Lord Gilar had left instructions to prevent the bridge’s fall, and perhaps he was in the process of dealing with the problem. Perhaps he was waiting for materials or skilled workmen to arrive, or for safer weather to be working in.

A distant thud drew everyone’s attention to the forest. She felt it in the ground, through her soggy boots. People turned to stare expectantly. Small trees quivered as something disturbed them, each one closer to the road. Finally the undergrowth parted and a huge log slid forward onto the mud.

It was as thick as a man was tall, and longer than three wagons and their horses standing end to end. The bright pale fresh wood where branches had been cut away stood out from the darker, wet bark. Dakon and Jayan stepped out of the forest. They paused in discussion for a moment, then Dakon moved closer to the trunk. He stared at it intently.

A crack split the air, and the log fell into two halves, split down its length.

Tessia heard gasps from all around. Possibly from her own mouth as well.
Well, that
was
impressive
, she thought.

All watched as magician and apprentice slid the log halves forward, curved side down like the hulls of boats. They pushed them across the bloated stream to settle beside each other, making a flat platform with a small gap between. Dirt around the end of the logs swelled outward, allowing the new bridge to sink into the ground and raising the road surface to meet the flat top of the logs.

Jayan crossed the new bridge and balanced on the other end as he repeated the embedding process on the other side.

One day I’ll be able to do that
, Tessia thought.
Clearly they used their power to shift the log, but what sort of magic did they use to split it? Or cut it down in the first place?
The ends of the trunk hadn’t been split or burned. Clearly, she had a lot to learn. Suddenly the knowledge that she would one day be able to use magic in such impressive and useful ways was exciting and appealing.
It’s not all about fighting after all.

Jayan returned to Dakon’s side, then the pair turned to look at her. Dakon nodded towards the wagon meaningfully. She realised he intended to cross the new bridge first, to demonstrate that it was safe. People had begun to head for their carts, and soon a queue would form before either end of the bridge.

She looked down at the metal worker. With magic she could dry him out and warm him up, but in the state he was in it would only terrify him further. She looked up at the man who had volunteered to return him to his home.

“Have you got any blankets?”

The volunteer met her gaze, and nodded. “I had better get my cart.” Then he grimaced and looked at the river. “And I suppose I’d better fetch the boy, too,” he added.

She gave him a grim smile of thanks. “Do it quickly and I might be able to arrange for you to follow us across the bridge.”

He hurried away. Tessia headed for the wagon. Though she would have preferred to accompany the metal worker to his home and make sure he was treated properly, he appeared to be in good hands. She was not the local healer and the man had no serious injuries. Her father always knew when to insist and when to let people take care of themselves.

Still, if Dakon was willing to wait a little, the metal worker might get home sooner. And if his helper crossed the bridge after them, he would probably remain behind them until he turned off the road. If the sick man took a turn for the worse, she would be close by and still able to assist.

CHAPTER
12

The only objects Tessia could see were the sphere of light floating above them, the wagon, its occupants, the horses that pulled it, and a circle of constantly shifting ground below them. Nothing broke the darkness on either side, though occasionally a tiny pair of eyes flashed in and out of sight. If it weren’t for the endless flow of rutted road surface passing below them, she’d have wondered if they were moving at all, or simply bumping up and down on the spot.

Dakon’s games had ended hours ago. Much earlier they had said farewell to the metal worker’s helper, as he pulled up before a shop in a small village. The incident at the bridge might have happened days before, it felt so long ago.

Travelling was not as exciting as it ought to be, Tessia decided. It involved long stretches of discomfort and boredom. And hunger. The delay at the broken bridge meant travelling in darkness, well past their usual mealtime.

The evenings were usually much more pleasant. They’d stayed with a village master the first night. Every village and town had a master who oversaw the work of the locals, and the houses they lived in contained a few extra rooms for when their own or any passing lord visited. The next night they’d stayed with a town master of Lord Gilar’s, and tonight they would be staying with Lord Gilar himself.

Suddenly Jayan straightened in his seat. Moments before he had been snoring softly, in danger of slumping against Dakon – she had been half hoping he would, just to see his embarrassment, but also hoping he wouldn’t as it would embarrass Dakon. Now his eyes widened with hope.

“A light,” he said. “We’re nearly there – at last.”

Tessia turned to see a single, lonely light ahead of the wagon. It flickered in the misty air. As they drew near she saw it was a simple oil lamp hanging from a pole where another road intersected with the main thoroughfare. Tanner directed the horses onto the side road.

Watching the light shrink behind them, Tessia wondered whether they would have found the turn if it hadn’t been sign-posted so effectively. She figured their host must have sent a servant out to light it.

The new road was less rutted and bumpy. The horses slowed as the road slowly and steadily rose along the side of a hill. She was looking forward to reaching their host’s house, but was not looking forward to meeting the man himself. What if the bridge
had
failed out of neglect? She had been steeling herself these past few hours, expecting she would have to show a respect she didn’t feel, and resist the urge to speak her mind.

The wagon turned a sharp corner, leading them into a treed valley. Turning around, Tessia saw that, at the far end of this valley, a wide stone façade glowed with the light of many, many lamps.

It was bigger than the Residence. Bigger than any building she’d seen before. A high wall stretched between the two arms of the valley, broken by two towers. The only windows were tiny slots in the towers, high up. In the middle of the wall was a huge pair of wooden doors.

“Lord Gilar’s Residence,” Lord Dakon said. “It was built before the Sachakans conquered Kyralia, when there were few magicians and fortifications like this, which can only really repel non-magical attack, were worth the time and expense of construction.”

As the wagon approached the doors they began to swing open. They rolled through into a narrow courtyard. Another wall towered before them. They passed through a doorless entrance and into a covered, cobbled area.

Other books

Calamity Mom by Diana Palmer
It Began with Babbage by Dasgupta, Subrata
The Greatest Knight by Elizabeth Chadwick
The King’s Sister by Anne O’Brien
Superhero by Victor Methos
Game of Scones by Samantha Tonge