The Third Apprentice (21 page)

“I kept my eyes open for an exit while I was
running from that snake,” Zamna said, snapping Taren back to reality. “I didn’t
see one.”

Taren stared at the trinket in his hand. “Maybe
the symbol can help us find a way.”

“Do you know how to use it?” Zamna asked.

Taren shook his head. “I can’t say that I
know
,
but I feel like it wants to help me. I can hear its voice in my head, but I
don’t understand it.”

Zamna had never studied magic, but at times, his
matter-of-fact attitude could prove wise. “Maybe you don’t need to know how to
use it then. If it’s willing to help you, just tell it what you want.”

“I want nothing more than to return to my master,”
Taren said. “But you still haven’t found what you were looking for.”

Zamna shrugged. “There’s no helping that,” he
declared. “There were no riches here to find.”

Taren stood and squeezed the symbol tightly in his
hand. Focusing his mind, he found his thoughts to be full of images of the
interwoven metal strands. Every attempt to calm his mind failed. He could not
release his mind from the symbol. It occurred to him that perhaps that was how
the symbol worked. It would fill his mind and carry out his desires. Focusing
his mind to the symbol, he thought,
My friend and I wish to leave this place.

In a blinding flash of light, the two men were
teleported away from the Realm of the Dead to a room inside Ailwen’s tomb. It
was not one they had seen before. Taren observed the walls and realized there
was a door, and light was visible at its edges.

Zamna noticed something else. The ground was
littered with small bits of metal. Stooping to retrieve one, he brushed the
dust away before biting down on it. “Gold,” he said. “There are gold pieces on
the floor.” Frantically, he began to collect them. Taren smiled but did not
budge. “You can have a few,” the La’kertan said. “There are so many.” He
couldn’t believe his luck.

“You take them,” Taren insisted. He already had
what he came for. Rubbing his fingers over the symbol, he realized how
beautifully crafted it was. The surface was smooth and soft, but it held a
magical heat to it that felt soothing in his hand.

Zamna placed the gold pieces inside his pack and
searched the ground a second time to ensure he had found them all. Mages surely
had need of money, but if Taren did not want to take any for himself, then that
was his choice. The La’kertan was content to take his share of the tomb’s
treasure. Though it wouldn’t be enough to live a life of luxury, it was a considerable
sum.

Taren lifted the symbol toward the door, not
bothering to read the runes carved upon it. With this device, he would not need
to figure out another puzzle. The door slid aside, obeying the command of the
powerful object, and sunlight filled the room.

The two men stepped out into the strange land of
red-brown soil. A hazy red fog filled the sky, but the sun’s rays filtered
their way through it, brightening the otherwise dreary land. Behind them, the
stone door sealed itself, leaving no trace of where it had been. The pair found
themselves near one of the many corridors of the compound.

“I would never have guessed there was a door
here,” Zamna said.

“It was probably accessible only from inside,”
Taren replied. Looking at his friend, he asked, “Will you come with me to
Ky’sall?” After so much time spent together, he was in no hurry to part from
his friend. There were still many things he did not know about him, and he
hoped they would remain friends for many long years.

Zamna shook his head. “I have some things to
attend to, and then I think I’ll go home,” he said. “I’d like to see my family
again.”

Taren could respect that. “The symbol will likely take
me anywhere I tell it. Would you like to go to La’kerta now?”

Again, Zamna shook his head. “I have unfinished
business in Rixville. I can make my own way home after I’ve done what needs
doing.”

Taren hoped the business did not involve murder,
but he decided it was best not to ask. Without questioning his friend further,
he focused his energy to the symbol. With a flash of light, the men arrived
only feet from the wooden walls of Rixville.

A
few citizens
took notice of the travelers’ strange arrival. It wasn’t every day they
witnessed people appearing from thin air. They peered at the odd pair curiously
for a moment before returning to their own affairs. The guards eyed them suspiciously
but apparently recognized the La’kertan.

One of them nodded
in his direction. “Ye’ve got some interestin’ friends,” he said.

Zamna shrugged and
looked away. The guards returned to their difficult work of leaning against the
city walls.

Though Taren’s
stomach was begging for a hot meal, he was anxious to return home to his
master. Turning to face Zamna, he said, “I’m going to miss having you around.”
He meant those words. After weeks of traveling side by side, taking turns
rescuing each other, and sharing strange meals and stories, Taren would have to
readjust to life without his friend.

Zamna replied with
a smirk and a shake of his scaly head. Long goodbyes were not his style. Though
he considered Taren a friend, it was now time to part company. The life of an
assassin was constantly changing, and this was just another step along his
road. “Take care of yourself,” he said, slapping the young mage on his back.

“You too,” Taren
replied. He watched as the La’kertan walked away, eventually blending into the
crowd of Rixville’s citizens. He hoped he would see Zamna again someday, but
his own future was uncertain. There would be much to do once he returned home.
He might be studying the symbol with Imrit for many years to come. That would
leave little time for travel or visiting with friends. If he was lucky, Imrit
would have all the answers waiting for him when he returned home. Knowing the
old man, he had probably worked nonstop since sending the apprentices away.
Taren’s only regret was that he would have to deliver the bad news about Tissa
and Djo.

Taren turned his
back to the town and clutched the symbol tightly in his hand. Focusing his
mind, he thought,
I’m ready to go home.
Nothing happened. Wrinkling his
brow, Taren shrugged away the failure and tried again. Picturing Imrit’s
cottage in is mind, he concentrated on the symbol. It warmed in his hand but
didn’t take him from his current location.

Holding the metal
object close to his face, he turned it over to allow the light to fall on its
various strands. Another picture came into his mind. He could clearly see The
Barrens. A shudder ran through his body as he remembered the stone beast and
the death of his companions. Imrit had warned against the use of magic in the
ancient forest. Could that be why the symbol was not working? The Barrens was
an ancient land, and an unknown enchantment had been placed over it. Were the
two ancient magics at odds with each other? If Imrit’s studies were correct,
the symbol would be slightly younger than The Barrens. Either it had its
limitations, or Taren was not able to use it properly. Whichever scenario was
correct mattered not at this point. The mage would have to cross through the
forest on foot.

Shifting his pack
to a more comfortable position, he began to walk. The ground here was still
covered with vibrantly colored patches of mossy grass, and it felt soft and
familiar underfoot. If there were time, Taren would have liked to study the
region to determine what sort of magic was responsible for its strange appearance.
But that would have to wait. He must return the symbol to his master.

It wasn’t long
before his feet brought him to the edge of The Barrens. The towering trees
formed an almost impenetrable line, the yellow-brown soil starkly contrasting
against the vivid colors of the land beneath his feet. Taking a deep breath, he
peered between the trees, wondering if the stone beast was still waiting for
him. He tucked the symbol into his pocket, for fear its magic might attract the
creature. Without knowing how to use its power, he wasn’t sure if it would help
or hurt the situation should the beast appear. He swallowed hard, his heart
rate rising. He had outrun it once before, and he could do it again.
Unfortunately, if the beast appeared early, the distance back to the cottage
was much farther than he had to run the previous time.

With little choice,
he stepped between the trees, immersing himself in the poorly lit forest. He
spotted the path immediately and remembered to stay off it. Staying slightly
left of the path, he began the slow march back home. There were several
obstacles in the form of fallen branches, and his pace was moderate. He
desperately wished to clear the forest quickly, but walking faster resulted only
in his stumbling and nearly falling to the ground.

With sadness, Taren
wondered if he would come across the remains of his former companions. If so,
they deserved a proper burial, and he would take the time to give them one. Tissa
had fallen close to the exit, but there was no sign of her body. Taren paused
and carefully observed his surroundings, but nothing of the apprentice remained.
The young mage did not care to think what might have become of her at the hands
of the beast.

He trudged on,
finding no sign of Djo either. The two apprentices had shared the same fate,
and there was no trace of either of them. Was it at all possible they had
survived and returned to the cottage? Though unlikely, the thought gave Taren a
momentary feeling of hope. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that was
not the case. He had seen the stone beast slashing at his companions, and he
knew they would not survive. Had he been wrong to flee and leave them to their
fate? What could he have done to save them? The regret would always be with
him.

As the light began
to fade, a soft pink glow broke through the treetops. Taren felt a sudden surge
of fear, knowing he would have to spend the night alone in The Barrens. To his
surprise, the symbol warmed in his robe pocket. Taren’s heart began to pound.
Wrenching the item from his pocket, it glistened in the dim light. It was using
magic.

Taren stood frozen,
not knowing from which direction the beast would come. He could not run until
it showed itself, or he risked running straight into its waiting claws. Soon,
the stone beast appeared before him, its black eyes locking onto his.
Instinctively, Taren lifted the symbol over his head, his feet rooted firmly to
the ground. This time, he would not run. He would fight.

The beast had
something else in mind, however. After staring at Taren for a moment, it turned
its back and calmly walked away, disappearing among the trees. Taren lowered
the symbol and observed it. It flashed with a multitude of lights before fading
back to its original gold color. Whatever the symbol had done, it had saved him
from the beast. After returning it to his pocket, he continued his march.

Taren walked
through the night, not bothering to stop and rest. All his thoughts focused on
returning home, and he could not have slept, even if he had wanted to. The
symbol continued to put off heat as it rested in his pocket, refusing to cease
the magic it had started when he encountered the beast.

As morning broke
through the trees, Taren realized where he was. The area before him looked familiar.
This was the spot where he had paused to look back at his master’s cottage. The
trees formed a straight line just ahead of him. Somehow the symbol had
shortened the journey by days. He was home.

Pushing past the
trees, Taren’s eyes beheld the stone cottage that had been his home. A soft
plume of white smoke rose lazily from the chimney, disappearing into the blue
sky above. Near the well, Vita was drawing water. The mage smiled, his heart
full of gladness to be back where he belonged.

Lifting the heavy
water bucket, Vita heard someone approaching. Swiveling around, she recognized
Taren immediately. Dropping the bucket, she ran to him and hugged him tightly. “It’s
good to have you home,” she said, still squeezing him.

“It’s good to be
here,” he replied.

Vita backed away
and asked, “Where are Tissa and Djo?”

Taren looked at the
ground. “They didn’t make it,” he said, his tone somber.

Vita brought her
hands up to cover her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Choking back a sob,
she said, “I’m sorry to hear that.” With a deep breath, she said, “Come inside.
Master Imrit will be delighted to see you.”

The two walked
slowly into the cottage. Imrit was not sitting at his desk near the window as
Taren expected.

“Is he in the
laboratory?” he asked.

Vita shook her
head. “He hasn’t been well,” she informed him. “He’s taken to his bed.”

Taren felt like
he’d been struck with a hammer. “It’s that bad?” he asked. Imrit had never been
one to sit for long, let alone lay abed. A lump rose to Taren’s throat as he
realized his master was gravely ill.

Vita patted the
young mage on his shoulder. “His age is catching up with him, I think,” she
said with a weak smile. “Your presence will bring him cheer.”

The pair entered
Imrit’s bedchamber. Vita knocked at the doorframe to alert him of their
presence.

“Look who’s come
home,” she said, approaching the bed. Assisting the elderly wizard to sit up,
she added, “Taren is here.” Grabbing at the pillows that had been strewn about,
she propped him up, allowing him to sit comfortably without effort.

Taren slowly
approached the old man and knelt next to the bed. “I’ve got the symbol,
Master.”

Imrit reached out
his bony hands, placing them on either side of Taren’s face. He stared into the
young man’s eyes and smiled. “You’re home,” he said. Weakly he leaned forward
to embrace his student.

Taren hugged him
back, being careful not to squeeze too tightly. Then, he reached into his
pocket to retrieve the symbol. It radiated heat on his hand. Offering it to his
master, he watched as the old man’s eyes gleamed.

His fingers
caressing the metal, Imrit said, “Master Taren, you’ve done something
extraordinary.”

Taren beamed with
pride. “I did it for you, Master. You can use this to make yourself well. You
can live forever.” Taren desired nothing else. Imrit meant more to him than
anyone in the world, and he could not bear to think of his death.

Imrit closed his
eyes and shook his head slowly. “I no longer have the strength to use this,” he
said, handing the symbol back to his former apprentice. “You are a master wizard
now. You must unlock its potential on your own.”

“But, Master—”
Taren started to say.

Imrit held up a
hand to silence him. “I have made my peace with this world,” he began. “The
symbol is in capable hands. I’m ready to move on.”

Tears welled in
Taren’s eyes. He could no longer contain his grief. Everything he had gone
through was for Imrit. He did not desire the symbol for himself. How could he
possibly hope to understand its power without Imrit to guide him? “Master,” he
said, “I know so little of the symbol. I can’t possibly study it without you.”

Imrit laughed
softly. “You can, and you must,” he replied. Leaning back against his pillow,
he said, “
Ailwen tried to rule over the symbol and force it to her will.
That’s why it abandoned her.” He glanced at the mage with a slight grin on his
face.

Taren did not understand. How had the symbol
abandoned Ailwen? Is that why it did not protect her from Zamna’s attack? His
master’s words only created confusion in his mind.

Imrit continued to explain. “What needs to be done
is for a mage to become one with the symbol. The two must exist as equal parts
of a whole.” He leaned up on his arm to look at Taren. “When it knew you were
coming for it, it began imprinting itself on you. It grew tired of Ailwen’s
dominance, and it craved a new master: you. All that remains is for you to
claim it as your own.”

Now it made sense. All the images of the symbol
that had clouded his mind and every time he had sensed its presence. All of it
was real. The symbol wanted him to take it—to use it as his own. He looked down
at the symbol in his hands, its golden surface shining brightly. The image of
his own reflection came through clearly.
How can I claim it as my own when
it rightly belongs to him?

Imrit began to cough, and Vita rushed to his side.
Pressing a glass of water to his lips, she held his head as he took a sip. “He
should rest now,” she said quietly.

Taren nodded. Rising to his feet, he placed the
symbol on the nightstand next to his master’s bed. There it would remain until
Taren was prepared to claim it. That day was not today. There were potions he
could craft that would bring his master comfort, and that was far more
important to him.

Over the next
several days, Taren spent every waking moment at his master’s side. Along with
Vita, he tended to the ailing man’s every need. Imrit died peacefully,
clutching the hand of the young man he had raised as a son. Taren grieved for
him, but there was nothing he could do. No spell in his power could bring back
this man whom he had loved as a father. Imrit had accepted the ending of his
life, and Taren would have to as well. In time, the pain would lessen, but he
would carry his master in his heart always.

A few days after
Imrit breathed his last, Taren returned to the old man’s room to retrieve the
symbol. It sat where he had left it, patiently awaiting his return. There had
been no strange images invading his mind. Instead, the symbol had allowed him
peace while he mourned. Now it gleamed with a golden light, anxious to become
one with the wizard.