The Third Apprentice (9 page)

Zamna sat cross-legged, leaning his head against
his hand. “A demonstration would be nice,” he said.

Taren saw no harm in casting a small spell, but he
couldn’t decide which one to perform. There could be creatures around, and he
didn’t want to disturb them. Zamna’s face grew bored, so Taren settled on
casting a lightning spell. He focused his attention on a rock about ten feet
away. Extending the fingers of his right hand, he drew energy from the sky.
With a flash of silver in his eyes, he projected the magic forward, causing the
rock to leap several feet into the air, bursting into dust. With a proud smile,
he looked over at Zamna.

Zamna nodded. “Impressive,” he said. “Let’s hope
you don’t miss your target if we find ourselves in need of that spell.”

Taren shrugged, remembering his failure to stun
the spiny hog they had encountered earlier in their travels. He hadn’t had
adequate time to prepare, and the paralysis spell was more difficult to master
than the lightning, at least for him. Next to earth magic, air magic seemed to
come more easily to him. “So what about you?” Taren asked.

“What about me?” Zamna replied.

“You know quite a bit about me,” he said. “But I
know so little of you or your people. I hadn’t even heard of La’kerta before I
met you.”

“Maybe you should look at a map once in a while,”
Zamna said.

“Tell me about your tail,” Taren said boldly.
Maybe if he asked a specific question, his friend would open up and talk.

“My tail?” Zamna asked, laughing. “You like it?”
He stood and turned so Taren could have a better look.

“I’m sure it’s quite nice,” Taren replied. “Why is
it so short? It looks like part of it is missing.” At least the La’kertan was
laughing. That should take some of the rudeness out of the question.

Zamna hissed with laughter and took a seat on his
bedroll. “It’s not much of a story, really,” he began. “I wasn’t much more than
a hatchling when an eagle decided he wanted to see what I tasted like. He
snatched me up, but his sharp talons cut straight through my tail, and I fell
back to the soft nest I was born in. He got away with the end of my tail, but I
avoided being eaten. Not a bad day, really.”

Taren gaped open-mouthed at his companion. Was he
serious? Not only had he offered up an explanation for his nub of a tail, he
had also answered one of Taren’s earlier questions. His species was in fact
hatched from eggs. Assuming he was telling the truth, that is. “Are you making
that up?” he asked. “I’ve never heard anything so outlandish!”

Zamna hissed with laughter, doubling over and
holding his sides. “You humans have no idea about the people around you,” he
managed to say between laughs. Once he had composed himself, he held his hand
over his heart. “I swear that every word I have spoken is true.”

Taren shook his head in disbelief. “Incredible,”
he said. “That has to be the best story I’ve ever heard.” With Zamna’s pledge
that the story was true, Taren no longer doubted him. What an amazing place
La’kerta must be. Taren found himself eager to know more about the land and his
unique companion. “Why did you leave La’kerta?” he wondered. “Is your family
still there?”

The humor drained for Zamna’s face, and he stared
off into the distance. “We should probably get some rest,” he said. With those
words, he rolled over on his side, facing away from Taren.

With the lighthearted conversation at an end,
Taren stretched himself out on his bed. Maybe Zamna would be willing to say
more another day. For now, he would leave his friend in peace and not press him
for information. The La’kertan was obviously a private man, and Taren didn’t
mean to pry. He wished he had brought along some books to keep him company when
his companion didn’t wish to talk. Instead, he resigned himself to the silence
and looked out at the stars until his fatigue finally caught up with him.

M
orning in the
Red Desert brought a vicious sandstorm tearing its way through the land. The
pair could only stay low in their mud-brick shelter and wait it out. Nibbling
at rations for breakfast, Taren stared out at the raging storm. There was no
visibility beyond the opening to the hut. All was shrouded in darkness, the
sound of the sand swirling and scraping against the walls filled the silence
between the two companions.

Zamna ate more
cactus, wondering how long the storm would last. He was anxious to get moving,
though leaving this shelter behind was regrettable. They had no choice but to
press on, but it was unlikely they would find such a perfect place to sleep in
the days to come. Leaning back against the wall of the hut, he closed his eyes
and let the sound of the wind lull him back to sleep. It was impossible to move
forward, so they might as well rest.

The storm ended in
late morning, allowing the pair to pack up and resume their march. Taren had drunk
only one waterskin so far. Zamna had not had a sip of water since leaving the Sisters.

Taking a small sip
of water, Taren asked, “Would you like some?”

Zamna shook his
head. “When I get to that point, I’ll let you know.”

“I hope we find
water soon,” Taren said, putting the water away.

Zamna looked ahead
and saw only a flat, barren wasteland. He doubted they would come across any
water this day. He kept that thought to himself.

The heat that day
proved brutal. It felt like
the sun had reached out a hand to suffocate
them as they forced themselves to continue on their way, trudging on for hours.
Finally, drenched with sweat, Taren could go no farther.

“We have to stop,” Taren said. “I need rest.” His
face was reddened, and his mouth was parched. Every muscle of his body ached.

Zamna helped his companion to a cluster of
boulders, leading him to the side facing away from the afternoon sun. Reaching
into the mage’s bag, he retrieved the green robe that had been neatly folded
inside. Shaking it loose, he laid it over the tops of the boulders, creating
enough shade to help the mage cool down. “You must drink more,” he said. “And
take whichever potion helps with dehydration.”

Taren nodded, pulling a half-full waterskin from
his bag. Drinking every last drop, he set it aside and searched for the correct
potion. Finding it, he took two sips before putting it away. “That should
help,” he said.

“You can’t keep drinking so little,” Zamna said.
“It might be necessary to ration, but rationing to the point of passing out
won’t help. I can’t carry you through the desert.”

Taren scooted to one side, trying to make room for
the La’kertan. “You should sit in the shade too,” he said. The sun’s heat was
still intense, and his companion was exposed to its rays.

Zamna shook his head and squinted toward the sun.
Before Taren’s eyes, the La’kertan prostrated himself on the sand and vibrated.
Fearing the La’kertan was having a seizure, Taren jumped to his feet. To his
amazement, the reptilian man sank into the sand, burying himself to his eyes.

Seeing the shock displayed on his companion’s
face, Zamna raised his head and said, “The sand is much cooler only a few
inches down.” With those words, he lowered his head back down in the sand.

Taren sat back, shaking his head. An amazing race
of people the La’kertans were. They were well adapted for many climates, much
more so than humans. If he survived this journey, he hoped to one day visit the
land of La’kerta and learn more about its inhabitants.

Retrieving another waterskin from his bag, he took
a few sips to quench his ever-present thirst. The sun finally surrendered its
place in the sky, allowing the cool night air to take over. The desert itself
seemed to sigh with relief as the heat began to dissipate. Zamna finally came
out of the ground, shaking himself to remove the tiny grains of sand that clung
to his scales and clothing.

“I think it’s best if we move only at night,” he
suggested. “We can move faster in the cool air.”

“You think there will be more places to spend the
day?” Taren asked. “I’m not sure I can bury myself in the sand like that.”

“I’ll bury you if I have to,” the La’kertan
replied with a laugh. “Let’s get moving.”

Taren put his robe away, grateful for the shade it
had provided. He took a few more sips of water to keep himself hydrated enough
to walk. For two more days, they continued this pattern: walking at night to
avoid the heat, and staying low during the day, shaded by boulders or tall
cactuses. Taren was quickly running out of water.

“You see that rock wall in the distance?” Zamna
asked, pointing to the south west. “There could be water there. We should head
that way.”

Without argument, Taren followed his companion. He
had only half a waterskin left, and there was plenty more desert ahead.

As they approached the wall, Zamna could see a
dark streak running along the rocks. The sand beneath it was pooled with dark,
damp sand. Smiling, he announced, “I think we’ve found water.”

To their great relief, a small stream trickled
between two segments of the massive red-rock wall. Removing his pack, Taren
retrieved all of the empty waterskins and held them beneath the water. It took
hours to fill them all, and dawn was upon them before he had finished.

“We’ll have to stay
here until sundown,” Zamna said. “There’s no sense in leaving the water behind.
Drink all you can, and make sure your skins are full when it’s time to leave.”

Taren couldn’t be
more grateful for this welcome relief. Though the water was not abundant here,
there was enough to raise his spirits and give him the strength to continue.
Pressing his face against the wet rock, he basked in its cool embrace. They
would have to move to the dry side of the wall in the afternoon, but for now,
he enjoyed the company of the water. Even Zamna took a moment to drink and
splash water over his scales.

With the sun moving
low in the sky, the duo once again took to their feet. They walked in silence
until well past midnight, when Zamna suddenly reached out a hand and halted the
mage from going any farther. Kneeling down, he gestured for his companion to do
the same. Taren appeared confused, so Zamna had to point at the trouble ahead
of them.

In the distance, a
tall, lurking figure moved with a massive stride. It had long, apelike arms,
its hulking frame covered in thick white fur. Taren could hardly believe his
eyes. “A snow beast?” he whispered.

With a shrug, Zamna
said, “I’ve never seen one before.”

“I have,” said
Taren, “but I can’t imagine what such a creature is doing here. They
occasionally come down from the mountains when food becomes scarce in winter.”

“We should lay
low,” Zamna suggested. “Maybe it won’t see us.”

Taren agreed, and
the pair moved off to take cover near the rolling dunes. After waiting half an
hour, Taren could no longer resist the urge to take a look at the creature’s
whereabouts. Unfortunately, it had moved closer. Ducking down behind the dune,
he informed his companion. “I think it’s heading this way,” he said. “Do you
think we can outrun it?”

“No,” Zamna
replied. “Its stride is twice ours. Unless it’s injured, it will be on us
within a few steps.”

“Can you sneak up
and kill it?” Taren had no desire to harm the creature unless it was necessary
to preserve their own lives. However, missing the opportunity to be rid of it
before it could turn on them would be unwise.

“It’s harder to
remain hidden from an animal than a man,” Zamna explained. “Animals rely on
many different senses, one of them being scent. With this warm air, it’s going
to be difficult to avoid detection.”

“I’ll have to use
magic, then,” Taren decided. “If it gets any closer, I’ll do my best to subdue
it.” Peering over the dune, he kept a close eye on the creature, hoping it
would turn away.

Zamna scanned the
area for a better place to hide. He had yet to witness Taren’s abilities in a
fight, and he could not put his faith in the mage’s skills. A few yards east
stood another rock wall, though not as massive as the one they found earlier.
It appeared to have a crevice at its center, and the pair might be able to
squeeze inside. With any luck, the snow beast would not be able to fit. Tapping
Taren on the shoulder, he whispered, “We should try to make it to that
formation.”

Taren nodded and
stayed low. They ran as quickly as they could in their crouched position,
making their way to the wall. The snow beast caught their scent on the night
air and sniffed at the breeze with interest. A flash of white caught his eyes,
and he observed it closely. To his delight, he beheld a man in a white robe,
along with a second figure moving across the sand.

With a deafening
cry, the beast pounded its chest before pursuing the travelers. The sound of
the beast urged them on, and they ran with all speed toward the wall. Zamna
squeezed inside the crevice easily, flattening himself between the massive
rocks. Grabbing Taren’s arm, he pulled the mage into the narrow opening just as
the snow beast’s massive paw came crashing down. His claws struck the wall
causing it to rain sand and debris.

Angered that his
prey was out of reach, the snow beast cried out again, his fury piercing
through the night. Savagely, he clawed at each side of the crevice, peeling
away the time-hardened layers. The pair had greatly underestimated the massive
creature’s strength.

“He’s going to dig
until he’s collapsed the entire wall!” Taren called out. “We’ll be crushed!”

Zamna looked deeper
inside the crevice but saw only darkness. There was no escape out the back. The
only way out was through the creature. Flattened against the wall, there was no
chance of drawing his daggers. Not that it would matter much against a creature
of such ferocity. His fighting experience was limited to humanoid creatures,
and he had never hunted an animal without stealth on his side. “Do something!”
he shouted at Taren. “You’re a master wizard! Do something!”

The wall began to
crack as more and more debris came crashing to the ground before them. With the
wall becoming unstable, Taren knew it was time to act. If he did not, they
would surely be killed. Though he had never had need to destroy a snow beast,
he had learned that they were highly susceptible to fire magic. Mustering all
his energy, he spoke the words to produce flames. Raising his hand to the level
of his shoulder, he blasted a heated beam of red light at the beast. It roared
in anger but was otherwise unharmed. Trying a second time, Taren closed his
eyes to concentrate. A second beam, this time more intense, flew from his
fingers, hitting the beast directly in its chest. It took a few steps back but
quickly shook off the blow.

“It’s not working!”
Taren cried.

“Try something
else!” Zamna called back.

The wall continued
to crack, and debris was now falling from directly above them. Approaching with
renewed vigor, the snow beast pounded its massive fists against the opening,
shrieking with anger.

Taren searched his
mind to come up with a better fire spell. He could find none. All that came to
mind were frost spells, and the beast was sure to be immune. His magic reserves
were running too low for a paralysis spell to be effective. Such spells required
far too much energy for Taren to cast after such an expenditure. There was no
time to drink a restorative potion, and his pack was wedged too tightly to fit
his hand inside.

“Now, Taren!” Zamna
cried, his voice carrying over the crashing sound of rocks.

Without hope of
success, Taren mustered every ounce of magic within himself and focused his mind
to the snow beast. Turning all of his will to frost, he shouted the words to
the strongest spell he could cast. A beam of white energy erupted from his
fingertips, blasting the massive beast away from the opening. It flew nearly
twenty yards through the air before landing with a massive thud, spraying sand
in all directions. Taren steeled himself for another attack, but the creature
did not move.

From behind, Zamna
nudged the mage forward. “Run!” he shouted.

Without hesitation,
Taren forced himself forward and broke into a run. Behind them, the massive
wall crumbled from the top, a huge section of rock tumbling to the earth. The
crevice was completely blocked. Had they stayed in their hiding place, they
would have been trapped.

Zamna leaned
forward, his hands against his thighs, and coughed. Looking over at the snow
beast, he asked, “What did you do to him?”

“Frost,” Taren
replied, still in shock that the spell had worked. Standing up straight, he
felt lightheaded and drew in a deep breath. His magical stores were empty, as
was his physical strength. Swinging his bag around, he reached in to find a
restorative potion. Chugging down the entire vial, he wiped his mouth with his
sleeve and dared to approach the unmoving form of the beast. Embedded in its
chest was a row of small, silver spikes. Blood was still seeping from the
wounds as well as the creature’s mouth. Its eyes stared lifelessly at the
stars.

Zamna came to his
side to observe the beast. “Icicles?” he asked, touching one of the spikes.
“It’s cold.”

Taren nodded,
surprised by his own success. All of his offensive spells had been learned in
books. He had cast only a few at targets, and none had proved so potent.