The Third Apprentice Page 11

  “Stand to the back!” one of the guards yelled at the man inside. He obeyed, moving himself to the back of the cage. The guard placed a key in the sizable lock affixed by a chain to the cage door. Swinging the door open, he shoved Zamna inside before securing the lock. They walked away, their footsteps growing fainter in the distance.

  Zamna observed the man who sat at the back of the cage. He was broad-shouldered and shirtless with the ash-gray skin of the locals. His feet were also bare, but he wore a pair of tattered black pants. His dark hair fell in tangles upon his shoulders.

  “Sit,” the man said, patting the ground next to him. “It’s not like you have anywhere to go.”

  Zamna took a seat next to the man and asked, “Who are these men?”

  “Drug runners,” the man replied. “They’ll be happy to have you. It’s hard to keep workers around here.”

  “Workers?” Zamna wondered. Apparently these men had a job in mind for him.

  “Mining,” the man replied. “There’s a rare mineral in these caves, but you have to search deep inside to find it. The walls can become unstable in a second and come crashing down. We lost five yesterday.”

  Zamna shook his head. He had no plans to work for these men. As soon as his bonds were untied, he would kill every man in his path. A fight to the death was better than life as a slave.

  “Don’t think you’re going to fight your way out of here either,” the man added.

  “Why not?”

  “One of those men is a mage,” he explained. “He draws traps on the ground that are invisible.”

  Zamna nodded slowly, realizing that was what had happened to him. Those men had been sleeping when he entered, and none of them had sat up to cast a spell. He must have stepped on their trap, causing it to flash and wake everyone inside. A careless mistake may have cost him everything.

  “The men usually surround themselves with those traps so you can’t get to them,” the man continued. “We killed a few of them, but they always manage to round us up and get us back in here.”

  “How long have you been here?” Zamna asked.

  “At least five months now,” he replied with a shrug.

  “What brought you here?” Zamna wondered, fearing he already knew the truth.

  “Same as you,” the man said. “I wanted the bounty. Fifty gold would have changed my life.”

  Zamna stared off into the darkness. The bounty had been a scam all along. Knowing he was constantly protected by a mage, the man had placed a bounty on his own head, setting the price too high for an average criminal to resist. Their “interrogation” had just been for show. Zamna could not believe his stupidity in falling for such a ruse. Here he was trapped in a pit, thanks to his own greed.

  His mind filled with regret as he sat in the darkness wishing he had followed Taren’s advice. Ailwen’s tomb probably held riches beyond his wildest dreams. Now he might never see it. Taren would expect to meet him in the morning, but how long would he wait? Zamna had no way of knowing when he would be presented with the chance to escape this place. There was no guarantee he would succeed either. With invisible traps hidden throughout the cave, he might kill the men only to kill himself on the way out.

  Zamna sat back in the darkness searching his mind for a solution. His best bet was to play along at first, until he was familiar with his surroundings. Perhaps he could find a way of detecting the traps. Taren would surely be long gone before Zamna found the way out, but maybe he would make it to the tomb on his own. Once the door had been opened, it might still be possible for Zamna to get inside. He hated the thought of coming so far only to fail now. Closing his eyes, the sight of treasure piled high in the tomb invaded his mind. For a chance at fifty gold pieces he had thrown away the opportunity to find an immense fortune. He chided himself, wishing he had taken the sensible route for once.

  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.

  Chapter 12

  Taren 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 toge
ther?”

  “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.