The Third Apprentice (3 page)

“I don’t,” Zamna admitted. “A troubled young man
who keeps to himself in a roomful of merrymaking must have a lot on his mind.
Perhaps a task of some importance weighs heavily on you.”

Taren admired the reptile man’s ability to read
him. The idea of completing his mission alone was indeed troubling. Imrit had
intended for all three apprentices to work together to retrieve the symbol.
Alone, Taren stood little chance. But how could he trust an assassin? This man
probably intended to rob him and kill him once they were away from witnesses. “Why
would you offer me your assistance?” Taren asked. He crossed his arms and tried
his best to look intimidating.

“Money,” Zamna replied casually. “A wizard’s quest
no doubt involves treasure,” he added. “I’d be happy to have a share of it. You
are heading someplace dangerous and are in need of a little protection. I
happen to be quite handy with these daggers.” He pulled a shining silver dagger
from its sheath on his chest and a second from an unseen holster on his hip.
Twirling them once, he laid them on the table and grinned at the young mage. “I
have quite a reputation around here for fighting, but you’ll notice I have no
scars upon my scales. What do you say?”

Taren’s mind flashed back to the stone beast.
Could Zamna have defeated it? Swallowing hard, Taren came to a decision. He
would tell this man where he was heading and judge by his reaction whether he
was worth employing. After all, Imrit had not sworn any of them to secrecy.
Only a mage could claim the symbol. “I am heading to the tomb of the ancient
sorceress Ailwen.”

Zamna laughed again, this time tossing his head
back. Noticing that Taren had not cracked a smile, he stopped and asked,
“You’re serious?”

A single nod was Taren’s only reply.

“It lies far to the south, through forests,
deserts, and swamps,” Zamna stated. “That is no mission to undertake alone.”

“You know the way?” Taren asked, not revealing
that he had a map in his bag. He was certain he could find the way on his own,
but surviving to that point might prove difficult. After all, he was an
herbalist, not a battle mage. Had Tissa and Djo been free to perform magic, he
was certain they would have taken down the stone beast. Unfortunately, casting
magic in The Barrens could have summoned more beasts to overwhelm them. Now
alone, he had no one to provide protection from whatever he might encounter
along the way. Though he was far from defenseless, he was less than confident
in his fighting abilities.

“I’ve never been that far south,” Zamna admitted.
“But I do know the land south of here, and I’ve survived a desert before.”

“What payment are you demanding?” Taren asked.

“A portion of whatever’s in that tomb,” Zamna
replied. “I doubt anyone has disturbed it, seeing as it’s cursed.” He shrugged
as he said those last words, obviously unbothered by such a minor detail.

“We’ll leave at first light,” Taren declared,
hoping he had made the right decision. With an ally, he would be more likely to
survive the road ahead. At least now he stood a chance of success. If it became
necessary to defend himself against his own companion, he hoped his magic would
prove strong enough to best the reptilian man, or at least give him time to
escape.

Zamna re-sheathed his daggers and lifted his mug.
After taking a long swig, he reached forward to shake Taren’s hand. “Don’t
worry,” he said. “I never kill anyone who owes me money.” Grinning, he added,
“But I make no promises after I’m paid.”

T
he next
morning, Taren awoke with regrets. Holding his head in his hands, he sat up on
his bed, scolding himself. How could he have agreed to allow an assassin to
accompany him on the most important journey of his life? Master Imrit had
placed his trust in Taren, and now he had risked losing everything. This
reptile man could probably kill him faster than he could cast a defensive spell.

Gathering his
thoughts, he decided to tell Zamna there had been a change in plans. He would
admit that he hadn’t been thinking clearly since his ordeal earlier, and he had
made a mistake. Now that he’d had time to gather his thoughts, he knew this was
a journey he would have to undertake alone. But how could he tell a killer that
he’d changed his mind? This man was expecting payment in the form of treasure.
Taren couldn’t possibly provide that. He made up his mind to sneak out quietly,
avoiding the situation altogether. With luck, Zamna would not consider him
worth tracking down.

Taren rose from the
bed and quickly collected his few belongings. Opening the door quietly, he
tiptoed into the hallway and down the stairs. If only there were a back door to
the establishment, he wouldn’t have to pass through the common room. Zamna
might be sitting there waiting to leave. To Taren’s relief, only a few men sat
around eating breakfast. The reptilian man was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he
had changed his mind and decided against spending miserable days crossing a desert.
There was a good chance someone had plundered the tomb in ages past, so there
was no real reason for Zamna to come along. Except, of course, that he was
familiar with the area and might not be bad to have around in a fight. Taren
shook the thought away. No, he would travel alone and retrieve the symbol
unassisted.

Stepping out into
the sunlight, Taren breathed the fresh air deep into his lungs. He closed his
eyes and turned his face to the sun, momentarily basking in its warm embrace.
Out of nowhere, something crashed into his midsection. Opening his eyes, he
stood face to face with Zamna, who was once again hooded. Taren’s mouth dropped
open, but no sound came out.

“You’ll be needing
that bedroll,” Zamna said, still holding it against the mage’s torso. “The sand
will be uncomfortable if it gets between your scales,” he added, hissing with
laughter.

Taking the pack, Taren
slung it over his back. “Thanks,” he muttered. It would add weight to the
bundle he was already carrying, but it would provide more padding than the thin
blanket he had brought.

“We should get a
few more supplies,” Zamna said. “You’ll need more water than me, and we don’t
want to run low on food. We might need to pick up some medicine as well, just
in case.”

“I can handle that
myself,” Taren informed him. “I’m an herbalist.” Unlatching his shoulder bag,
he held it open for Zamna to look inside.

The assassin nodded
his approval. “Let’s get some food then.”

Stepping down from
the inn stairs, Taren said, “Look, this really is something I should do alone.
You don’t need to come along.” He couldn’t dare say what he was really
thinking. He did not trust this person, and he’d been an idiot to invite him
along.

Zamna narrowed his
eyes. “You’ll never make it alone,” he said. “The only reason you got away from
the stone beast was because the other two were slower than you.”

Taren stared at him
in disbelief. Had he revealed more than he meant to last night? His memory was
blurry, and he could not recollect when he had returned to bed. Perhaps he had
partaken of too much house ale, despite promising himself he would have no more
of it. The mage vaguely remembered the reptile man insisting they drink on
their agreement. What had he told this man about the symbol? Revealing too much
might put him in danger. This assassin could easily take it from him once he’d
retrieved it. It was possible he was a mage as well and was hiding it.

“Ailwen’s tomb is
rumored to be full of riches,” Zamna said, filling the silence. “Now that
you’ve put the idea in my head, I’m going, and I’ll need a mage to open the
door.”

“Why is that?”
Taren wondered.

“Because it’s
sealed with magic,” Zamna replied, shaking his head. “Do you know nothing of
the place you’re going?”

“I know a little,”
Taren replied, trying to hold his head high. In reality, little was known of
the tomb. Master Imrit had studied more than anyone else on the subject, and he
had little information to pass on. Once he had discovered its location, he had
mapped out the route that his apprentices should take and left it at that. How
to get inside and retrieve the symbol was up to the them. With the three of
them together, surely they could figure it out. Imrit had grown old and
impatient, and his apprentices were eager to please. They had convinced
themselves they could do anything. Never once had they imagined not making it
out of The Barrens.

The other
apprentices were gone, fallen at the hands of a monster. Taking in a deep
breath, Taren resolved to complete his quest, and return with the symbol or die
trying. What harm could there be in allowing Zamna to join him? Two heads were
better than one, weren’t they? Letting out the breath slowly, Taren said,
“Let’s get what we need and be on our way.” His chances of success seemed good,
as long as Zamna proved to be a man of his word. If he wasn’t, Taren would
probably find out sooner rather than later. After all, if he intended only to
rob him and kill him, he would probably do it as soon as they left town. Taren
decided he would take the risk. Alone in the wilderness, he would likely die
anyway.

Together they
walked down the narrow street leading into the main thoroughfare. Market stalls
lined each side of the wide road, and numerous vendors called out in loud
voices in hopes of attracting customers. Taren’s eye fell on a baker’s stall,
where sticky sweet rolls displayed themselves with pride, begging him to
indulge. Resisting the urge, he pressed on. This was not the time to satiate
his sweet tooth. Provisions needed to be kept light for the long journey ahead.
Walking all day with a heavy pastry in his stomach would only lead to problems.

Though Taren had
brought some rations from Imrit’s cottage, he had no idea how long the journey
would take. It couldn’t hurt to purchase more while he had the chance. The pair
stopped at a stall where nuts and dried fruit were stocked in abundance. A thin
man with a gaunt face smiled at them from behind the counter.

“What’ll ye have?”
he asked.

“Do you have any
dried meat?” Taren asked, hoping the local cuisine was not too different from
what he was used to.

“Aye,” the man
replied. “We got beef strips and crickers.”

Taren paused a
moment, wondering if he should ask what crickers were. “Two pounds of beef for
me,” he said, before looking over at Zamna.

“A pound of
crickers,” Zamna said. “We also need three pounds of dry fruit and four pounds
of nuts. You can mix a variety together.”

With a nod, the man
began filling thick paper pouches with the requested provisions.

“Do you think that
will be enough?” Taren asked.

“There will be more
along the way,” Zamna promised. “I know what’s edible out there.”

Taren nodded, glad
to have his companion’s knowledge of the area. The young apprentice had a good
knowledge of plants, so he doubted he would accidentally ingest anything
poisonous, but he wasn’t sure what he would find in this strange land. Of
course, what was poisonous to him might not be to someone of Zamna’s race.
Taren had no idea.

The merchant handed
over the bags to Zamna, who shoved them inside his pack. With his hand out, the
man stared at Taren. Rummaging in his sack, Taren pulled out a few copper
coins.

“Is this enough?”
he asked.

The man nodded.
“Good day to ye.”

“What are
crickers?” Taren asked as the pair headed back to the road.

“Dried crickets,”
Zamna replied. “Good source of protein.”

Taren felt himself
start to gag, but he swallowed hard to fight it. Zamna could keep the entire
bag of crickers for himself.

As they approached
the city gate, they stepped aside to allow a few farmers to enter with their
carts. The bright-blue fur of the mules hauling the wares into town caught
Taren’s eye. They were much more impressive than the brownish-red mules he was
used to seeing. They trotted along the road, bringing a splash of color to an
otherwise drab city.

“We’re leaving just
in time,” Zamna commented. “It’s market day.”

Taren wouldn’t mind
taking a look at the colorful wares in the cart, but he knew there was no time
to waste. The sooner he could get going, the sooner he could find the symbol
and return to his master. With a final look, he said goodbye to the city of
Rixville. He hoped to be passing this way again soon, when it was time to
return home.

Stepping outside
the gate, a system of well-worn roads spread out before them. Those running
east-west had seen the most travel, as evidenced by the deep ruts cut into
them. The road leading south was less worn, but it was clearly visible. The
landscape was dotted with houses and farms of varying size, but there was
little to be seen close to the road. The land was mostly flat and covered in
the spongy, bright-colored grass Taren had noticed before.

Choosing the
south-leading path, they marched side by side in silence while Taren took in
the sights of the area. Zamna kept his eyes forward, carefully watching the way
ahead. He moved in a businesslike manner, his head occasionally glancing to the
side. After a few miles, Taren could bear the silence no longer.

“How long do you
think it will take to reach the tomb?” he asked.

“Hard to say,”
Zamna replied. “A few weeks at least, assuming the land is traversable and we
don’t have to go out of our way.” He kept his gaze forward as he spoke.

“Are you originally
from Rixville?” Taren asked, in an effort to prolong the conversation.

“No,” he snorted,
shaking his head. Clearly he thought the question was daft.

“Then where are you
from?” Taren wondered aloud. Zamna was the first he had seen of a reptilian
race, and he’d never read about them in his studies.

Dropping his head,
Zamna sighed. He disliked being interrogated, and he had no intention of
sharing much with this young wizard. However, in order to satiate his
curiosity, Zamna was willing to answer this one question. “I come from a land
far across the sea. It is known as La’kerta.”

Taren raised his
eyebrows, hoping to find out more about the reptilian homeland. “So you’re La’kertan
then,” he said.

“Yes, Ky’sallan,”
Zamna snapped, clearly agitated.

Taren decided not
to press his companion any further. Perhaps as they traveled he would open up
more and allow Taren to know him better. For now, the mage pictured a land
crawling with reptiles, some of them on two legs, others on four. Did they
crawl out of the sea in some pre-larval stage like a salamander? Looking at his
companion’s scales, he decided he couldn’t be any type of amphibian. His skin
was too dry. Still, he wondered if he might have hatched from an egg. Keeping
his mouth tightly shut, he held back the question for a later time.

The road stretched
on as they continued their march away from the city. The walls grew farther
away until nothing could be seen of Rixville. Farms came and went, and Taren
finally got a better look at the animals he had seen from a distance. They were
indeed cattle, as he had suspected earlier, and they came in a wide assortment
of colors. Some of them were solid, but the majority were dappled with a
multitude of hues. One in particular stood out to him, as it had a bright-green
head and brown and white splotches on its back. It reminded him of the ducks
that used to inhabit the small pond outside his dormitory window. This land was
a far cry from the Mage’s College grounds.

One farm spread
wide enough that it nearly touched the road. Taren instantly recognized some of
the herbs growing in neat rows just behind a wooden fence. Straying from the
road, the mage dared to approach the fence.

“I wouldn’t do
that,” Zamna warned. “
Those go for a lot of money, and the farmer won’t
take kindly to a thief, even a magical one.”

Taren halted in his tracks. He had no wish to
antagonize anyone, but he regretted the scarcity of ingredients in this land.
“Why are there no wild plants in this region?”

“Nothing grows wild anymore,” Zamna replied. “It’s
been that way for centuries. Every tree, every plant, every bit of food comes from
those farms. Eventually we’ll reach the woods, and you’ll see all the plants
you could desire.” His tone sounded almost bored.

Stepping back onto the road, Taren resumed his
march. “I’ve brought quite a variety of potions, but it couldn’t hurt to
harvest more ingredients while I travel,” he stated. “You never know what we
might need.”

“So that’s what’s weighing you down,” Zamna
remarked, pointing at Taren’s shoulder bag. “You brought more than you needed.
The first rule of the road is to travel light.”

“There are a few more sewn into pockets in my
robe,” Taren said with a smile. Undoing a small toggle, he opened a flap on the
hip of his robe to reveal five small vials.