The Third Apprentice (5 page)

Taren regretted his
words and wished he could take them back. His companion had clearly been
offended, and that was not his intention. For the last few days, he felt they
were becoming friends, and he hated the thought of losing that. “Forgive me,”
he said. “I didn’t mean to disparage you or your profession. And you’re right.
I have led a sheltered life. I know very little of things outside my books.”

“When I make a
promise to a man, I keep it,” Zamna said, the anger draining from his voice.
“Others might look down on me because of my profession, but I am an honorable
man.”

“I believe you,”
Taren stated. “I apologize.”

Zamna waved his
hand dismissively and leaned back against the tree. Hissing with laughter, he
said, “You probably thought I’d cut your throat and rob you once we were
outside town.”

Taren forced
himself to laugh as well, hoping it didn’t sound too contrived. He would never
admit how he had truly perceived his companion at first.

“Believe it or not,
you’re worth more to me alive,” Zamna said. “If that tomb holds riches, then
this journey will be worth the trouble a hundred times over.”

“Do you know
someone who has been there?” Taren asked.

“No,” Zamna
replied. “And that’s why it must hold treasure. If anyone in my circle had
plundered it, there would be tales spoken for generations. In my travels, I’ve
heard only that the tomb exists, and that it’s impossible to get inside if you can’t
perform great feats of magic. I guess that means a master of the arcane has to
open the door.” He grinned at his companion.

“I’m not a master,”
he reminded him.

“True,” Zamna
stated. “But you will be soon. Who knows? Maybe your master made up the part
about an item. Maybe your real test is to open the door.”

“If that’s the
case, we might be in trouble.”

“How so?” Zamna sat
forward once again.

“Well, my master
sent three of us to find the tomb. Maybe we need three mages who have mastered
different elements in order to get inside.” The prospect was daunting. How
would he ever find more mages along the way?

“Let’s hope that
isn’t the case,” Zamna hissed. “I’d hate to walk all that way for nothing.”

“Do you think we
will come across other mages?”

“No idea,” the
La’kertan replied. “I suppose anything is possible. We’ll just have to keep our
eyes open for them.” After a pause, he asked, “What element does an herbalist
master?”

“Earth,” Taren
replied. “Though there are different ways to go with earth magic. In truth,
there are different courses to pursue with all the elements. So even if we
found more mages, it would be impossible to know if they had the correct skills
to gain entrance to the tomb.”

“I suppose they’d
need the same skills as your former companions,” Zamna said. “I wonder if your
master knew only one of you would make it. I’ve never heard that a team of
wizards would be required to open the door. I’ve only been told that it takes a
master. I’ll put my faith in your skills.” As he finished speaking, he laid out
his bedroll and stretched himself onto it.

Taren remained
sitting, staring into the fire. Maybe Zamna was right, and his true test was to
open the door. Imrit would probably grant him the title of master if he
returned able to prove he’d been inside. The symbol had to exist, though.
Master Imrit had spoken of it with fire in his eyes. Taren was determined to
search every corner of that tomb until he found it, even if it took decades. He
would not return to his master empty-handed.

M
orning brought
a bright sky and soft white clouds drifting overhead. Both men were up early,
their energy restored by last night’s feast. Though Zamna seemed to have calmed
by the time he went to sleep, Taren worried there might still be contention
between them.

“I didn’t mean to
insult you last night,” he said as he slung his bedroll over his shoulder.

“Forget it,” Zamna
replied without looking up.

“No hard feelings?”
Taren pressed.

Zamna looked at him
quizzically. “Hard feelings?”

“It’s an
expression,” Taren explained.

Zamna grunted.
Rising to his feet, he said, “Let’s get moving.”

As far as Taren
could tell, that was Zamna’s way of saying he was forgiven. In the future, he
would be more guarded with his words. This man had so far proved a fine
companion, and he was willing to face whatever dangers might await them.

With the wind at
their backs, the pair set off to continue their journey south. As they pressed
on, the trees became more numerous, and the terrain became rougher. Rocks and
branches were strewn across the road, forcing them to watch each step they made
for fear of tripping. The path continued to show signs of neglect, until it
disappeared altogether. All that lay ahead was obscured by trees. From now on,
they would have to travel without a road to guide them.

As they approached
the forest, Taren asked, “Will we be able to keep our bearings in there? It
looks dense. We might not be able to see the sun at all times.”

Zamna looked
puzzled. “Is that the only way you navigate? By the rising and setting of the sun?”
He shook his head, hissing softly. “There are many ways to tell which direction
you’re headed. We’re going south, and the majority of branches on these trees
are pointing in that direction. Lichens prefer to face north, but thicker
vegetation will be on south-facing slopes. We can also determine direction by
shadows, and if it’s night, we follow the stars.”

“As long as
you
know where you’re going,” Taren replied with a shrug.

“You might take the
time to learn in case I’m eaten by a bear,” Zamna said with a hiss.

Taren’s eyes went
wide as he sucked in a breath. “There are bears in these woods?” He had never
encountered one, and he had no desire to do so.

“I’m not sure,”
Zamna said dismissively. “I’ve never actually traveled this far.”

Taren admired his
honesty but wished the La’kertan had lied instead. It would be more comforting
to think his companion was familiar with these woods.

Stepping inside the
trees, he looked around, half-expecting to see the stone beast. This seemed
like a perfect environment for him. Taren put the thought away. This forest was
far different from The Barrens. Many wild plants grew here, and the trees were
tall but less than half the height of the massive trees growing near his
master’s home. Here the land was wild and untamed. Vines grew long, wrapping
themselves around tree trunks as they ascended toward the sky. Wide ferns
littered the ground, pushing their way between massive root systems. The air
was still, due to densely packed trees blocking out the vast majority of the
wind.

Moving through the
thick brush, Taren’s eyes fell on many different species of plants that he
recognized. When he caught sight of ripe blackcurrant, he had to alter course
to gather some of its berries.

“Where are you
going?” Zamna asked as Taren darted off to the left.

“Blackcurrant,” he
replied, as if his companion should already know. Quickly, he plucked at the
plump, dark berries. He placed one in his mouth and sucked on it for a moment
before chewing. “Mmm,” he said, extending a handful to Zamna.

“We should be
moving on,” Zamna said, not taking the berries.

Taren shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” Opening his pack, he added them to the paper envelope that
still contained plenty of dried fruit. “I’ll pick enough for both of us, just
in case.” He continued to pluck berries from the bush. “You know these roots
make good medicine. Mostly for female ailments though.”

Zamna stood with
his hands on his hips, waiting for Taren to finish collecting the fruit. “Hurry
up,” he said. Though he knew they needed to collect edibles along the way, he
didn’t want to remain too long in the same place. This forest made him uneasy,
but he could not explain why. Perhaps it was simply that he hadn’t been here
before, and he wasn’t sure what creatures they might encounter. He found
himself glancing in all directions as he walked, trying to observe every bit of
his surroundings. With a little luck, nothing would take him by surprise.

“All done,” Taren
said, rubbing his hands together. The bush had been picked clean, and his lips
were stained with purple juice.

Rolling his eyes,
Zamna gestured for the mage to follow him. They continued slowly, avoiding the
thick underbrush. Taren occasionally wandered off to inspect the local flora.
Some of them he did not recognize, and he wished he had his books with him so
he could determine exactly what they were. Some of these might be hard-to-find
medicines, and he may never pass this way again after returning to Ky’sall.

Finally, night fell
over the forest, but the moon shone so brightly in the sky that they decided to
walk a little farther before calling it a night. Zamna hoped the forest
wouldn’t prove too expansive, but after three hours of walking in the evening,
he resigned himself to spending the night within the woods. Perhaps tomorrow
they would find their way out.

“We might as well
turn in,” Zamna said, throwing down his pack near a tree.

“Should we build a
fire?” Taren asked, already gathering fallen timber.

Zamna nodded and
crossed his arms. He stretched his back and stared up at the stars. They
twinkled silver against a deep-blue background, lending their light to the
ground below. A howl broke through the air, jolting him back to reality.

“Wolves?” Taren
asked.

“Probably,” Zamna
replied. “I guess we should take turns sleeping. The fire won’t keep them away,
and I’d hate to be eaten in my sleep.”

Taren nodded. “I’ll
take the first watch. I’m not tired at all.”

“That’s because
you’re full of sugar,” Zamna replied, lying down on his bed. Without another
word, he rolled over and fell asleep.

Taren peered into
the dark woods, wondering what other creatures might come awake at night. So
far, they had seen only a few squirrels, and the birds had made their presence
known through song. Briefly, Taren wondered if any elves might live nearby, but
he knew it was not the case. The elves who once inhabited this land had left
ages ago.

Nearly four hours
passed while Taren sat in the darkness. When he felt he could no longer keep
his eyes opened, he knelt next to Zamna to wake him. The moment he placed a
hand on the assassin’s shoulder, he regretted it. Zamna sat upright, his dagger
finding its way into his hand. Before Taren knew what was happening, the
La’kertan was on his feet prepared for a fight.

“Oh, it’s you,” he
said, putting his dagger away. “Next time, don’t touch me. Just make a noise or
say my name.” He slipped the dagger back into its sheath.

Taren nodded, his
mouth hanging open. Curling up on his bed, he forced himself to close his eyes.
Zamna could have killed him, or at least done him serious harm. He made a
mental note never to touch a sleeping assassin again. In that line of work, he
supposed it would be a reflex. Surely a killer would have to deal with people
seeking revenge, and what better time to do it than when the assassin was
sleeping.

After the fright Taren
just had, he didn’t feel much like sleeping, but he knew he had to try.
Tomorrow would bring another long day of walking through dense forest, and he
needed to get some rest. He sat up briefly to retrieve a potion from his pack.
Selecting a vial full of deep-amber liquid, he took a small sip and replaced
the stopper. That would be plenty for a few hours’ sleep.

Zamna sat near the
fire, his knees pulled close to his chest. He no longer heard the howling of
wolves. Instead, a single owl hooted a warning to an intruder, and the crickets
chirped so loudly, they were becoming obnoxious. Morning could not come soon
enough for him. He was anxious to be clear of the forest, even knowing a desert
awaited them.

This forest was not
nearly as thick as the jungles on his island home of La’kerta, but it brought
back more memories than he cared to have filling his thoughts. He found himself
preoccupied, which could prove dangerous in unfamiliar surroundings. Once they
were clear of the forest, his mind would be more at ease. At least then he
could focus on the task ahead without his mind bringing up images of his past.

Taren awoke to the
sound of Zamna calling his name. Though he hardly felt he had slept at all, the
sun was shining, and it was time to resume his long march. Slowly rising to his
feet, he pulled a strip of dried beef from his bag and chewed it. He offered
one to Zamna who reluctantly took it and placed it in his mouth.

Chewing with a
grimace, Zamna forced himself to swallow. Too bad he had eaten all the crickers
two days ago. They provided more protein with a better flavor. Today he was
determined to find some animal worth eating. If not, a squirrel would have to do.

Taren placed his
bag over his shoulder and paused, staring at the trunk of a tree. The slightest
movement of a leg revealed a fuzzy, gray-brown spider clinging to the bark. Its
body was nearly as large as Taren’s head, and its eight legs wrapped easily
around the circumference of the tree. It held its position steady, aware it was
being watched.

Noticing where his
companion was looking, Zamna said, “It doesn’t taste as good as it looks, I can
promise you that.” Taren paid him no heed, so he added, “It’s venomous, and I’d
recommend staying away from it.” Seeing his companion still had not budged, he said,
“It can jump three times its body length, and it will attack prey much larger
than itself.”

With a frown, Taren
backed away slowly. The spider’s many eyes glistened, and its pincers moved
ever so slightly. Though he thought himself too large a meal to be in danger,
he didn’t want to antagonize the arachnid.

Taren came to
Zamna’s side with a grin. “It wouldn’t really try to eat a human, would it?”

“Those spiders bite
you once to paralyze you. Then, they wrap you in a nice little cocoon while
you’re still very much alive. After that, you slowly begin turning to liquid,
until there’s nothing left but ooze. The spider can slurp at that to its heart’s
content, even if it takes months.” Zamna’s eyes betrayed no lie.

Taren took one last
look at the massive arachnid. Its venom might hold medicinal or magical
properties. He would need only a few drops to test it. Getting ahold of the
spider without getting bitten might be possible if he could hit it with his
paralysis spell. Missing from this short distance would be almost impossible.
He briefly considered running the idea by his companion but thought better of
it. Maybe he would try it on the way back.

Zamna heard a faint
sound in the distance and paused to sniff the air. “Did you hear that?” he
asked, turning to Taren.

“Hear what?” the
mage whispered. Both men stood perfectly still, listening to their
surroundings.

“Nothing,” Zamna
said. Shaking away his uneasiness, he led his companion southward through the
threes.

They walked on,
stopping only once near midday to enjoy some nuts and fruit from their packs.
Taren collected tubers each time they stopped, and he had gathered quite a
store. They were not his favorite, but they were filling and nutritious.

Zamna took a liking
to the new flavor. He crunched them by the handful and even started gathering
them to fill his own pack.

As they resumed
their course, Taren spotted a cluster of kudzu growing wild along the forest
floor. Without a word to Zamna, who was walking a few steps ahead, Taren veered
off to the left, making a beeline for the plants. He could already taste the
tea he would brew from the lush green leaves. Stooping to pick up a handful, he
hastily shoved it in his pack and continued to forage. There was far more here
than he would need, but he wanted to get a good supply. His own plants had
fallen prey to Master Imrit’s goat, and he hadn’t tasted kudzu tea in more than
a year.

As he bent down to pluck
a leaf, he was suddenly hoisted into the air. Crying out in surprise, he fell
onto his back. Flailing his arms, he found himself trapped within a tightly
woven net. Attempting to right himself, he managed only to turn himself
sideways. There was no chance of finding his footing in the net. His legs
dangled between the ropes, his hands clutching at the knots.

Zamna heard his
companion’s cry and stopped dead in his tracks. He growled low in his throat,
angry that Taren had once again wandered away without saying anything. Dropping
low to the ground, he crept in the direction of the scream, expecting to hear
an animal nearby. To his surprise, he heard voices instead. Female voices
speaking in hushed tones reached his ears as he continued to move through the
foliage. Had these women harmed the mage? There had been only one cry. Perhaps
the young man was too injured to utter a second one. Perhaps they had already
killed him.