The Third Apprentice Page 5

  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.

  Rounding a wide cluster of trees, he moved with silent speed. Staying low, he peered into the distance. Ahead of him, he spied Taren dangling within a net that was affixed to a tree branch. He did not appear to be injured. Zamna shook his head, realizing that the foolish mage must have wandered into a trap while collecting some plant. Two tall women with broad shoulders stood near him, clutching spears in their hands. Zamna readied his daggers and kept quiet. If Taren managed to survive this, he would have to have a serious talk with him about watching where he was going.

  Taren squirmed as the women approached, their weapons at the ready. He could tell by the surprised looks on their faces that they hadn’t intended to catch a person. The trap must have been laid for some animal, but Taren had stepped inside it like a fool. With all his attention focused on the kudzu, he had failed to notice his surroundings. Now the question was, what would these women do with him?

  They stepped closer to the net, allowing Taren a better view. They were large women, taller and more muscular than any he had ever seen. They were dressed in leather clothing with fur trim. Their faces were decorated with stripes and swirls of brownish paint, their short-cropped hair sticking out in all directions.

  “Greetings,” Taren called out, hoping not to make enemies. “I seem to have stumbled upon some trouble.” He tried to hide the nervousness from his voice. Rather than assume these women meant to do him harm, he would act as if they were any other passersby.

  The two women looked at each other and lowered their spears. “What are you doing here?” one of them asked. “No one travels through this forest but our own kind.”

  From his position, Zamna could hear every word. He hoped Taren would not reveal too much information to these strangers.

  “I was just passing through,” Taren replied. “Would you be so kind as to cut me loose?” The only spell he could think of to release himself from the ropes involved fire, and he had no desire to light the forest ablaze. Also, performing magic with these two as witnesses could be dangerous. He had no idea how they might react to a wizard. For now, at least, he would keep his profession a secret.

  “Do you have a weapon?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Taren responded truthfully. His magic didn’t truly qualify as a weapon. He’d never been in a fight, and he’d already proved himself a subpar hunter.

  The woman who had spoken looked to her companion for approval before drawing out a long, serrated knife. Zamna tensed as he saw the blade but remained hidden in the underbrush. Observing her movements, he could tell she meant Taren no harm. She reached high above him, cutting the rope which held the net to the branch. Taren plopped to the ground with a thud.

  “Thanks,” he said, rubbing a hand against his backside. Untangling himself from the ropes, he worked himself free while the women watched, their faces displaying curiosity. Climbing to his feet, he extended a hand toward them.

  The two looked at each other once again and did not return the gesture. A handshake was not part of their vocabulary. “You come with us,” the second woman said. “You can explain to the Matriarch why you’re intruding in our land.”

  “Certainly,” Taren replied, glancing over his shoulder. He saw no sign of Zamna, who was still crouched in the thick brush. The women waited for him to walk between them where they could keep him in their sights. With their spears at the ready, they led him eastward.

  Zamna followed close behind, maintaining a silent distance from the women. As long as they were unaware of his presence, he would have the advantage should he need to rescue his companion.

  Chapter 6

  The village lay only a few miles away to the east. The women moved with ease through the thick forest, their pace much faster than Taren could manage. He found himself constantly tripping over the many obst
acles littering the forest floor. Several times, the women stopped and waited for him to regain his footing before proceeding.

  Zamna moved in silence, easily able to match the speed of the women. He kept a low profile, intending to remain hidden until some necessity forced him to reveal himself.

  As they reached a clearing, Taren could see the small village situated just ahead. It was completely surrounded by trees, shielding it from the prying eyes of any who might pass by. The women led him between two carved wooden poles featuring dozens of different faces, each painted with bright colors and wearing a grim expression. The bulging eyes and protruding teeth usually meant one thing: death.

  The village was filled with small, round huts crafted from native wood. Each hut was covered by a thatched roof, and the doorways were concealed by animal skins. Taren observed the women as they stopped in their chores to turn and stare at him. No men could be seen among them, and Taren wondered if they’d seen a male before. He stood at least a head shorter than all of these women, which further added to the spectacle.

  The women paused outside the largest hut in the village. It stood at the easternmost edge, and two more carved poles stood on either side of it. The door opening was traced with intricate swirling patterns painted in blue. Most of the symbols were unknown to him, but he could clearly make out the moon and stars among them. Likely a priestess lived inside.

  One of the women placed a strong hand on Taren’s shoulder to hold him in place, while the second went inside the hut. After a short wait, the flap opened, and the woman stepped back outside.

  “The Matriarch will see you,” she announced. Holding open the door flap, she waited for Taren and the other woman to step inside before entering herself.

  A woman in a tall headdress fashioned out of twigs and leaves sat cross-legged before a central pyre. The smoke rose to a single round opening in the roof, leaving behind a soft woody scent. The dirt floors were covered with a variety of animal skins, creating a soft cushion underfoot. The walls were adorned with wreaths, crafted from materials similar to the Matriarch’s headdress. Some of them featured colorful berries, and at least one contained an assortment of feathers. Ritual items, no doubt. Taren hoped he might be welcome in this village, where he might learn more about his destination. These women obviously lived in peace with their surroundings, and they might have knowledge they were willing to share.