The Third Apprentice (12 page)

For hours he sat in the darkness, listening for
any sound that might help him plan an escape. Voices came and went, but he
could not make out their words. No one came within sight of the prison.
Propping himself against the cold metal bars, he extended his legs in front of
him. Crossing his arms over his midsection, he closed his eyes and waited in
silence. Bouts of fitful sleep came over him, as his mind refused to fully
succumb to fatigue. He wondered where Taren might have found to rest and how
long it would be before he made it to the tomb. Would the mage find a new
companion? Would he succeed in finding the item his master so craved? With a
sigh, Zamna realized he would probably never find out.

T
aren awoke to
the sound of a horse’s whinny. Opening his eyes, he saw a hoof less than two
inches from his face. The horse dipped its head down to give the mage a good
sniff before losing interest and walking away. Rising from his bed, Taren
quickly changed back into his clean mage’s robe. The white clothing given to
him by the Sisters now reeked of the stables. After adding a few drops of
potion to clean it, he rolled it and stuffed it into his pack. Gathering his
belongings, he headed out into the city.

He and Zamna had agreed to meet at the southern
end, so Taren headed southward along the road, hoping to come across an eating
establishment. This might be his last chance for a hot meal, and he intended to
make the best of it. Unsure when Zamna would show himself, he decided to check
the area outside town once before settling in for his meal.

It was a long walk to the other side of Yilde. The
streets were crowded with citizens going about their morning routines. Taren
avoided the area near the bakery due to the large crowd out front. The scent of
freshly baked bread and pastries was tempting, and he found it hard to continue
on his way. With any luck, he would find Zamna quickly and then sit down to a
hot breakfast.

When he reached the southern end of the town, he
wondered where Zamna might be. There was no sign of him in the distance,
meaning he was not waiting outside the town. Taren paced along the row of
buildings facing the southernmost edge. There was no sign of the La’kertan. The
hour was still early, so Taren felt no urgency to find his companion. It was
likely he was still sleeping after his activities in the night.

Taren decided there was time to return to the bakery.
The smell of sweet breads had not left his nose, and he could bear the craving
no longer. His mouth watering, he joined the crowd outside the bakery,
anxiously awaiting his turn at the window. After several minutes, he found
himself next in line. He purchased a large chunk of cinnamon raisin bread as
well as a sweet roll glazed with sticky sugar. Heading back to the southern
border, he munched greedily at the pastries.

An hour passed and then another, Taren all the
while sitting and waiting. Zamna was still absent, and the mage was starting to
worry. What if he had got himself into trouble while trying to collect that
bounty? Perhaps he had been injured or jailed. Taren rose and began to pace.
There was no trace of the La’kertan. After a third hour, Taren decided to look
for him within the city.

Making his way back through the streets, Taren
stopped a few people to inquire whether they had laid eyes on the reptilian
man. Most of them looked at him as if he had gone mad, but others simply shook
their heads. Taren stopped by the inn where Zamna had discovered the bounty
poster. Stepping inside, he found the place nearly deserted. Only one woman
stood within, busily wiping at the common room tables.

Noticing she had a guest, she said, “Are you
looking to secure a room for later?”

“No,” Taren replied. “I’m looking for someone, and
I wonder if you’ve seen him. He’s a La’kertan, a scaly blue-green fellow.”

The woman smiled. “I haven’t seen anyone like
that,” she replied.

“Thank you,” Taren said, turning to leave. Next,
he would try the tavern where Zamna had gone after they departed, though he
doubted the La’kertan would stick around after killing a man.

Upon entering the tavern, he discovered several
men enjoying their drinks. He strode to the bar to inquire whether the
bartender had seen Zamna.

“I haven’t seen him since last night,” the man
declared. “Didn’t you leave together?”

“We did, but we parted again and planned to meet
this morning.”

The bartender shrugged. “Maybe he left without
you.”

Taren thanked the bartender for his unhelpful
suggestion. It was highly unlikely that Zamna would change his mind about
accompanying the mage to the tomb. It was more likely he had run into trouble
somewhere. The problem was figuring out where he had gone.

As he stepped outside, he noticed a bounty poster
tacked to the outside of the tavern. It bore the face of the same man Zamna had
gone to kill. Taren was sure the poster had not been there the night before.
Was it possible he failed? It appeared that the man still lived, and the bounty
had not been claimed.

Hurrying farther down the street, Taren caught the
eye of the apothecary, who was standing on his porch with a broom in his hands.
Taren approached the man to inquire about his missing companion.

“Have you seen a La’kertan around?” he asked.

“Seen?” the man replied. “No.” Scratching at his
beard, he added, “But I have heard.”

“What do you mean?” Taren asked anxiously.

“It seems there was some trouble in the night, and
the man you seek was involved.” He motioned for Taren to follow him as he
turned to enter the shop. Slowly, he shuffled across the room to take his place
on the stool behind the counter.

“You were saying?” Taren asked impatiently.

“What does this La’kertan mean to you?” he
wondered aloud.

“He is my traveling companion and my friend,”
Taren responded. “I would like to know what’s happened to him.” Why was this
old man stalling?

“You crafted three potions yesterday,” the man
said. “I will trade what I know for those potions.”

Was this man serious? Apparently he had been
watching more closely than Taren thought if he knew what kind of potions he had
crafted. “Why don’t you just craft your own potions? You have the skill.” He
hoped to convince the man to name another price. The potions were difficult to
craft and expensive to purchase. He might need them down the road.

“Yours are a superior quality to my own,” the man
explained. “I saw what you created, and they are far beyond my own skills. If
you want to find your friend, I suggest you give them to me.” The old man
grinned and crossed his arms.

Deciding that the potions were less important than
the safety of a friend, Taren retrieved the three vials from his bag and placed
them on the counter. “Talk,” he demanded.

“It seems your friend ran afoul of a gang of criminals,”
the man said. “He fell for their bounty scheme and was likely taken to the
caves as a laborer.” Scooping up the vials, he placed them underneath the
counter.

“Likely?” Taren did not like the uncertainty of
the word.

“It happens all the time,” the man said
dismissively. “You’ll find the caves to the southwest of the city about four or
five miles from here. They’re hard to miss.”

“How many criminals will I find there? Where can I
find men to come with me?” Raiding a criminal’s hideout alone would be foolish.
Taren was no fighter, but he had to do something.

The old man laughed. “You won’t find anyone
willing to go out there. One of those criminals is a mage, and the people here
are frightened of him. Had you come three months ago, when the market was
booming, you might have found some foreigners to go with you. No Yilde citizen
will help you. They would be risking their own place in the community.”

“You’re telling me these criminals are in charge
of the city?”

“Not officially,” the man replied. “But they do
hold a certain amount of sway.”

Taren had heard enough. “Thanks,” he said, turning
to leave. Not only would he have to face down these bandits on his own, he
would have to battle another mage. It was unlikely he would succeed, but he had
to make an attempt. Zamna would do the same for him.

Taren hurried to the southwest, passing scores of
citizens along the way. None of them looked up or wondered why he was in such a
hurry. This day was like any other for them, but for Taren, the day had brought
an immense challenge. Would he be able to face an unknown number of enemies and
come away successful? Was the apothecary even trustworthy? There were many
doubts in his mind as he continued along his way.

Eventually, a system of caves came into view.
There were three separate openings, and he did not know which to choose. Taking
up a position behind a small rock formation, he observed the caves closely.
After a while, two men came outside from the entrance on the right. They
fiddled with the storage crates stacked outside the central cave before
returning inside. If that was where they were going, then Taren would follow.
If he had to search all three caves, he would, assuming he lived long enough to
do so.

With his heart pounding in his ears, Taren crept
forward to the cave entrance. Pausing a moment to listen, he heard no voices
inside. Hoping the men had moved deeper inside, he entered the cave. There were
enough lamps around to let him see where he was going, but the abundant light
would make him too easy to see. Deciding that darkness was his friend, he
closed his eyes and tapped into his magical stores. Summoning a slight gust of
wind, he blew out the row of candles on the left-hand wall. There was no reaction
from the men, meaning they were far enough away not to notice what had
happened. He hoped his luck would hold.

A system of ramps and wooden bridges wound
throughout the cave. Not knowing where to go, Taren decided to follow the most
brightly lit pathways, as they were likely the most commonly used. Realizing
there could be traps around, Taren cast a second spell to reveal any magical
runes that might be present. That was the simplest trap a mage could set, and
Taren was quite familiar with them. Only a truly skilled mage could hide such a
trap from another mage. Taren smiled as the spell revealed a simple rune trap
in the distance. That meant the mage might not be above his own skill.

Taren knew the correct spell to disarm such a trap
and prepared it in his mind. It was still yards away, and there were more
lanterns he would have to extinguish along the way. As he crossed silently over
a rope bridge, a row of black iron bars caught his eye. In an adjacent room
there appeared to be a large cage. Could that be where they’d taken Zamna?
Altering his course, he crept toward the cage. Two figures sat inside unmoving.

Taren cast a second wind spell to blow out the
candles illuminating the area. There were only a few, but he could not risk the
light. As he approached, he could see the bars were covering a pit, and one of
the men had a spikey head. Taren was certain he had found Zamna. Hurrying to
the cage, he whispered, “Zamna?”

Zamna shot to his feet and approached the dark
figure that had come to the cage. “Taren?” he replied, making out the mage’s
shape in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you,” he said with a grin.

The second man came forward to observe the
exchange. “Who is that?” he asked.

“A friend of mine,” Zamna replied. Turning back to
Taren, he asked, “Can you open that lock? They took my tools from me.”

“I can try,” Taren replied. Moving off toward the
door, he lifted the heavy lock in his hands. “I’ll have to blast it,” he said.
“It’s going to make a lot of noise.”

“Wait,” the gray-skinned man said. “Can you use
this?” He produced a small tool from his back pocket. It had been shaved to a
fine point.

Zamna took the tool and nodded. “You should have
given me this sooner,” he said.

“How was I supposed to know you could pick a
lock?” the man replied.

Grabbing the lock in his hand, Zamna needed only a
few seconds before the lock clicked open. Smiling, he handed the tool back to
his cellmate.

The man stepped out first and looked around.
Without another word, he ran toward the cave’s exit, disappearing in the
darkness.

Zamna stepped outside the cell. “Are you up for a
fight?” he asked.

“We could just leave,” Taren suggested. The look
on the La’kertan’s face spoke volumes. He wanted revenge against his captors.
“Or I suppose we could bring justice to a group of criminals.”

With a grin, Zamna crept forward in the darkness.
“I’m not sure where they’re holed up in here,” he said. “We’ll have to find
them.”

“I already did,” Taren said. “They’ve laid a trap
to protect themselves. I can see the runes. With only one trap, it must be
positioned close to the men.”

“Can you disarm it?” Zamna asked.

Taren nodded that he could. His heart was racing,
but he was not frightened. He found this moment exhilarating, and he was ready
to test his skills against his magical opponent. What better way to prepare
himself for the tomb? It was likely he would have to fight his way in. This man
was no match for Taren, even if he was just an herbalist. He was also a master
wizard, or was soon to be one. With a lifetime of training behind him and his
friend at his side, he welcomed this opportunity to use his skills.

Taren led the way along the winding path,
extinguishing torches as he went. Finally, two men took notice of the darkness
and rose from the small wooden table where they had been seated. A third man
stayed behind.

“There are only three of them,” Taren whispered.
This might be easier than he thought.

The men turned their backs to Taren and Zamna who were
waiting patiently in the darkness. With a nod, Zamna sprang forward, landing
full force on one of the men. Taren threw an energy blast at the second,
sending his limp body flying down one of the corridors. As Taren prepared for
the third man to come forward, he glanced over at Zamna. In a single move, he
snapped the criminal’s neck, his body dropping lifelessly to the floor.

“You didn’t say we were killing them,” Taren said.
The mage had merely rendered the other man unconscious.

“These men collect prisoners and use them for
slave labor. Those slaves die in the mines. This is justice!”

As he finished his speech, the third man came
forward and cast a rune trap on the ground. This was no mage, Taren realized.
He had merely learned to set traps. Had he been able to cast a spell to attack
them, he would have been wise to use it. Using the same energy attack he had used
on the other man, Taren blasted the third criminal, knocking him into the water
beneath them. It was not deep, and the man had landed face up, leaving little
chance that he would drown. Taren knelt and waved his hand over the runes on
the ground. They disappeared, clearing the path ahead of them.