The Third Apprentice Read online

  “This is a forest I could get used to,” Taren commented.

  “Too bad we still have a long way to go,” Zamna replied, continuing his southward march.

  Taren felt rejuvenated as they camped for the night beneath the bright stars. The day’s walk had almost been relaxing. There was no trudging on, climbing over fallen trees, or tripping on tightly woven brambles. Except for the day he had spent with the Sisters, this was the best day he’d had since leaving his master. He felt hopeful now. Hope that he might actually succeed in this quest, despite being the only apprentice to survive to this point.

  Imrit had expected the trio to work together, but that didn’t mean the mission couldn’t be accomplished solo. Though, Taren wasn’t exactly alone. Zamna had proved himself a loyal companion, and he was happy to have his friendship. From now on, he would consider this man a friend. After all, he had been willing to come to his aid when he thought his life was in danger. That had to count for something. He wondered what it would take for Zamna to consider him a friend. The La’kertan had seemed a bit more agreeable since leaving the Sisters’ village. His manner was not as uptight, and Taren was sure he was coming around. Maybe soon he would be willing to share a bit of information about himself. Taren would like to know his companion better.

  The night passed without incident, and a bright morning arrived to replace the darkness. Birds heralded the sun’s arrival, and the air smelled crisp and clean. Taren looked around at the deep-green foliage. This was a place of beauty. Had he the choice, he would live in a land such as this. Imrit had the right idea living far from town. This place was an inspiration to magic.

  “Time to go,” Zamna said, snapping Taren out of his reverie.

  Taren sighed. “I suppose so,” he agreed reluctantly. Lifting his heavy pack, he hoisted it onto his back. As they pressed on through the forest, the trees thinned more and more until there were few to be seen. The sparse grass beneath their feet turned to sand, and they paused to take a last look back at the fine green land.

  Before them lay a desert of red sand, stretching as far as the eye could see. The sky grew dark, and the wind cut through them as it ripped its way across the dunes.

  “A sandstorm to welcome us?” Taren asked.

  Zamna bowed his head and said, “It seems so. We should stay near the trees until it’s over. I don’t think we’ll find much cover out there.”

  Taren agreed, and the pair paced back a few yards to take shelter behind a wide tree. Zamna retrieved the cloth hat the Sisters had given him and placed it on his head. This was no time to worry about fashion. The veiled hat would help keep the sand out of his eyes and allow him to keep watching the route ahead. His last trip through a desert was excruciating. He had learned to take advantage of any opportunity the barren land offered. This time, he was determined to travel more wisely.

  The storm finally died out, allowing the pair to attempt entering the desert once again. Zamna bent down and removed his boots, revealing five long fingerlike toes. Taren couldn’t help but stare at such strange feet.

  “It beats getting sand in your boots,” Zamna said with a shrug. He placed the soft leather boots inside his pack and stretched his toes, digging them into the sand. It was a pleasant, familiar sensation. In La’kerta, his people rarely wore shoes.

  Taren briefly considered going barefoot as well, but the soft skin of his feet would probably be rubbed raw by the red sand. Before this journey, his life consisted of little walking and plenty of time sitting in a laboratory or library. He was by no means pampered, but his skin wasn’t nearly as tough as that of his reptilian friend. Kneeling down, he placed a hand on the sand to check the heat. It was not terribly hot, but the sun was low in the sky. At midday, it might be scorching. Keeping his shoes on seemed like the best option.

  They trudged forward into the sand, and Taren found it more difficult to maneuver through than the thick forest. With each step he sank, forcing him to lift his feet higher than normal to continue moving forward. The physical exertion was exhausting, and he doubted he would make it far at this pace. Zamna seemed to have no trouble. His feet were shaped nicely for navigating through sand.

  After a few hours, Taren was begging to stop for a rest. “I need a few minutes,” he said. “This sand is horrible.” Not only had it climbed inside his boots, it had also made its way inside his clothes, scratching at his neck, chest, and thighs.

  They paused to take in their surroundings. Zamna pointed to a spot a few yards to their left. “There’s a boulder there that might block wind for a time. Maybe the sand isn’t as thick over there.” He didn’t sound too hopeful about the latter.

  As they reached the red boulder, Taren tossed his bag to the ground and plopped himself on the sand. It was just as deep here as anywhere else. With a sigh, he removed his boots and dumped the sand that had piled inside. His feet were raw with blisters that ached more when exposed to the air.

  Zamna grimaced upon seeing his companion’s feet. “Scales really are the way to go,” he joked with a hiss.

  Digging through his shoulder bag, Taren produced a small vial of orange liquid. Pulling out the stopper, he wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor of the liniment inside. Giving the bottom of the bottle a whack, he poured the thick liquid into his palm and rubbed his hands together. When applied to his feet, the potion removed all traces of redness from his skin. The relief was instant, the burning sensation being completely obliterated by the potion’s healing effects.

  “Not bad,” Zamna commented. “Will it prevent future blisters?”

  “It will provide something of a protective barrier,” Taren replied. “But it can do only so much.”

  Zamna reached into his pack and pulled out the robe the Sisters had given him. “I don’t plan to wear this,” he said. “Maybe if you wrap your feet with it, they won’t get so sore.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Taren said. “Thank you.” He gladly took the robe and began tearing the bottom of it into small strips. Wrapping them around his feet, he tested to be sure his foot could still flex before shoving it back inside his boot.

  Zamna stood to investigate the area behind the boulder. To his surprise, a few small cactuses were blooming with yellow flowers. Pulling out a dagger, he sliced off a segment and tasted it. The taste was palatable, so he cut off a few more and returned to his companion.

  Taren took a piece and inspected it. “This is poisonous,” he declared. “You can tell by the milky liquid inside it.”

  Zamna took another bite and chewed it. “Poisonous to humans maybe.” He took the slice back from Taren. “It suits me just fine. You’re welcome to my share of the rations.”

  Taren snacked on pieces of dried fruit and took a few sips of water. With luck, they would come by an oasis in a day or two. He had yet to experience the ravages of the desert sun, and he didn’t wish to drink too much of his water in case it became scarce.

  Storing the extra cactuses in his bag, Zamna asked, “Are we ready to move on.”

  “Might as well,” Taren replied. For now, at least, his feet were in walking condition.

  They trudged on for hours, not stopping again until well after nightfall. The coolness of the night air was a welcome relief, and Taren dreaded the thought of tomorrow’s journey. They would be spending their first full day in the desert sand, and it might be difficult to find shelter from the blazing sun.

  Before them in the distance lay the remnants of an abandoned city. Rows of square houses constructed of dried mud bricks rose high into the sky, some of them collapsing in on themselves. There was no sign of movement within, their inhabitants having long since vanished from this land.

  “Looks like we’ve found a place for the night,” Zamna said, leading the way into the ruined village.

  The sand was not as deep as they reached what had been the center of the ancient town. At one time, this had been a hub of activity. Now, it lay dormant and uncared for in the middle of a wasteland.

  “I w
onder who lived here,” Taren said. “Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know,” Zamna replied, ducking his head into one of the houses. Glancing around, he added, “This one looks sturdy enough to sleep in.”

  “I suppose there’s no need for a fire in this heat,” Taren said, setting down his gear.

  “It might keep the scorpions away,” Zamna hissed with a grin.

  Taren grimaced. He hadn’t thought what sort of crawling things might live in this sand. Waking up to a scorpion on his face wasn’t at the top of his to-do list.

  “Don’t worry,” Zamna said. “I’ll eat it if it comes near us.”

  Taren wasn’t sure whether his friend was joking. The building they had chosen featured a small circular window facing out upon the desert. The stars twinkled above, providing a nice view of a desolate land. From this angle, it appeared almost serene. The light of the stars reflected off the sand, giving it an unearthly glow.

  “If the sun proves too hot, we might want to move at night,” Zamna said, unrolling his bed. “So long as the sky stays clear.”

  “That will help with the heat but not the sand,” Taren said, removing his boots to find new blisters had formed on his feet. “I wonder if I should go barefoot too,” he said. “The sand seems to be finding its way inside my shoes regardless.”

  “As long as you keep them wrapped to protect you from the heat, it might help,” Zamna replied. “It might also allow sand into your wrappings, and then you’re back where you started.”

  Taren groaned, not sure what was the best course of action. He rubbed at his calves, which were also aching from the day’s exertion. In the thick sand, he had used muscles he didn’t even know he had in order to keep his balance.

  “Don’t you have a spell for that?” Zamna asked. “You’re supposed to be some sort of healer, aren’t you?”

  “In some situations I am,” he replied. “In others, I’m just the person you buy your potions from.”

  “You do know a few useful spells, don’t you?” Zamna was beginning to wonder what the point of his magic was if he only crafted potions.

  “Of course I do,” Taren replied defensively. “I just haven’t had need of them yet.” Though he had not mastered all the elements, he considered himself proficient with a variety of different spells. He could cast at least one spell from each school of magic, and he could cast several involving earth magic. His main focus had been on potions, but Master Imrit had made sure he learned a sufficient number of spells to protect himself. This journey was Imrit’s idea, and he had trained his apprentices for whatever they might encounter along the way. Taren hoped it was enough. He didn’t feel particularly powerful, and Tissa and Djo would have been much better with offensive magic. So far there had been no need for such spells, and Taren was grateful.

  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.

  Chapter 9

  Morning 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.