Magician’s Apprentice Chapter LV

Posted on May 15, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon is accompanying Court Magician Sarton to a royal audience, which is not going to go as planned. Now read on . . .

Lady Gwella is considered a rare beauty. She has skin that ranges from blue through purple to red, hair of sky blue, and golden eyes. She’s also short, something I appreciate. But I can’t say I’m all that attracted to her, certainly not the way I was when she bespelled me.

We’re sitting on opposite sides of the Royal Audience Chamber. I can see her steal a look at me every so often. She looks puzzled when she does so. I’m hoping that’s to my advantage.

The queen is looking very pregnant. I’m told her lady in waiting who was impregnated by the king looks similar, but she’s been banished from court. Rumor has it, correctly, that she’s staying at one of the king’s private residences.

There’s a quiet but anxious betting contest among the nobles here over who will give birth first, the queen or the lady. Put another way, will the queen’s child be the elder, or the king’s? And will they be boys or girls? Ultimately, the issue is the succession. It appears the eldest child of the Their Most Glorious Excellencies is going to be a bastard in fact, if not in law, either way. The civil war this marriage was supposed to prevent, it may end up causing.

I can see how Lady Gwella might use the child of mine she’s carrying in such an intrigue. People will presume it’s the earl’s, her husband’s. Lady Gwella could present it as next in line to the throne if the queen’s bastard becomes the next ruler, and its paternity were acknowledged.

The problem with that scenario is there is no reason for Lady Gwella to have me impregnate her, or to suppress my memory of the fact. There’s a dimension of this political intrigue I’m not seeing.

Sarton is called, and I get up with him to present ourselves to Their Fantabulous Splendors. As we approach, the herald announces, “The Marvelous Master Magician of Court and Kingdom, Sarton of Serez, and his associate, Lord of Tyznar Heights, Bollon.” I wince at the mistake as I drop to one knee and bow gracefully.

“Rise,” says the king, and we rise. The king says to Sarton, “You promote your apprentice quickly.”

“Your Excellency,” replies Sarton, “I sent him out to kill a dragon. He killed two. How could I not reward him?”

Sarton gestures, and I step forward with a small copper box which I offer to the king. “Your Excellency, out of respect for you and your fellow sovereign, I would like to give you some of the teeth from those dragons. The teeth of the mightiest of creatures belong in the custody of the greatest of our realm.” Always flatter royalty in ceremonies.

The king takes the box from me, looks at it, looks to me with a questioning look, and when I nod, opens the box. He removes a tooth, holds it up so everyone can see it, and places it back in the box, which he closes. “A worthy gift, Master Tollon.” (Somebody told him my correct name, I guess.) He turns to the queen. “Wouldn’t you say so, my dear?”

The queen has said little throughout the audience, pleading fatigue. She looks as if she’ll just nod in assent. But a change comes over her. She becomes more alert, sits up, looks intensely at me, and then offers me a sly smile. “You’re cute,” she says. “You want to plant the next one in me?”

A gasp goes around the room. The king looks to me, sees I’m horrified, and turns back to the queen. “My dear, you are overtired and confused.”

He may have meant to say more, but the queen interrupts him. “I am confused? I am confused?” She laughs hysterically. “You probably think this child,” and she pats her bulging abdomen, “is yours. But you’re not man enough to do it!” And she laughs hysterically again, and keeps laughing, on and on, until she falls off her throne, and lets out a scream as she does.

The king and the ladies in waiting gather about her. I hear moaning. It doesn’t take magic to know that the queen has gone into labor.

The audience is ended. Everyone is dismissed. Everyone, that is, except Sarton and me. We’re put under guard and taken to the Palace Prison.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter LIV

Posted on May 14, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Suspicious of Lady Gwella’s designs, Tollon is building alliances. It’s politically chancy. It’s turning out to be personally chancy as well. Now read on . . .

I think experiencing the god Mrokitar’s viewpoint somehow left me better able to see through people’s fronts into their true character. Take the woman climbing out of my bed just as dawn comes. She looks and acts the young innocent girl most of the time. But she’s really quite pragmatic and mature, even if only fourteen.

There’s a “Romeo and Juliet” quality to this scene. Not the best omen.

She tells me as she’s dressing, “Naturally, my father will give me an angry lecture.”

I nod. Her father is the member of the secret society that gave me sanctuary once at Mia’s behest. I found out who he is and where he lives from Zilla. He was shocked when I waltzed into his shop and began chatting up his daughter. And everywhere we go, outside of the palace, a member of the secret society is shadowing us.

Evana finishes dressing and comes over and sits on the side of my bed. I sit up. We exchange a kiss. She gives me a questioning look. “Who’s Mia?”

Her father must have mentioned Mia. I reply, “A friend, an ex-slave, a member of your father’s secret society, a fairy. Why?”

“You were talking about her in your sleep.”

My heart sinks.

Evana goes on. “Are you in love with her?”

Six months ago, I would simply have denied it. Now? “I don’t know, Evana. We have a complicated past. But she’s a fairy, and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see her again.”

Evana runs her finger down the ridge of my nose. “I think you’re still carrying a torch for her. I know you’re not in love with me. And I,” and she sighs, “am falling in love with you, even though I just intended this to be a casual relationship.” Before I can speak, she holds a finger to my mouth. “Now don’t ruin everything by trying to explain. Just give me a kiss, and I can go home.”

So we kiss, hard. And then Evana leaves.

My good mood is slaughtered. Paviara, Mia, and Evana: I don’t know what to do about any of them. I want to see the spell lifted off Paviara, but I honestly wonder if I want her back. My feelings for Mia are so mixed up I think it best if I never see her again, but I so want to.

And Evana? She’s mature beyond her years, or her scanty education. I made a play for her partly because she’s cute, and partly to force her father to deal with me. She understood that, but decided I was cute, and walked into her first sexual relationship with me without any illusions. Yet we’ve become fast friends. I can’t imagine falling in love with her, and I can’t imagine losing her.

Oh, I’m great at understanding how other people play roles in their lives. I’m doing a cruddy job of understanding how I play roles in my own life.

With a grunt, I get up, bathe my arms and head, and put on work clothes. I take out my new magician’s robe and bring it with me to the workshop. Sarton and I have some spells to prepare. And then we are going to a Royal Audience. It’s going to be my first chance to see Lady Gwella since our encounter in the dragon’s cave. And like everything else about myself, so it seems, I don’t know quite how I’m going to deal with that. She’s certainly Sarton’s enemy, probably mine, and she’s carrying my child, which I am not supposed to know, and probably won’t get a chance to prove unless Lady Gwella can turn it to her advantage.

I begin to feel nostalgic about fighting gods.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter LIII

Posted on May 13, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: After slaying two dragons and getting caught up in a fight between gods, Tollon has returned to the palace to find himself caught up in political intrigue again. But this time, he’s pushing back. Now read on . . .

I dig up one of my more disreputable clothing ensembles. It makes me look like a laborer. And then I strap on my Etralstan sword, which looks very out of place. That’s the point. I want the locals to realize that I’m telling them I’m not one of them, just passing for one of them. Because my destination is Gehulia. Gehulia, the roughest district in the city, where I was ambushed by Zilla once before. Only, this time, Zilla isn’t going to ambush me.

The residents of Gehulia would find Hogarth’s Gin Lane familiar.

I leave the palace, head toward Gehulia, and make for its main thoroughfare of bars. I turn into the disreputable one I visited last: Herkan’s Hangman, a combination tavern, inn, whorehouse, fencing operation, and drug dealership. I believe they contract out murders. I take my place at the bar, order the most expensive whiskey there (“Old Zombie Face”), and wait.

The bartender, a man who looks like he’d be at home in a torture chamber, keeps staring at me. When I finish my first drink, he comes over and asks, “Get you another, sir?”

“Yes, and a woman to go with it. I was here a few months ago. The woman I was with was disappointed with my performance. I don’t remember hers. She showed me the back way out when I told her I was a political criminal. Go find her. I want her here before I finish my next drink.”

He looks unhappy as he pours my drink and then goes to confer with someone at the other end of the bar. A few minutes later, a nondescript man carrying a knife in his hand sits down beside me. Without actually looking at me, he says, “This is a rough place, mate. You might just want to stroll along.”

Without looking at him, I say, “I killed the god who killed Katrina of Moss. Now, I haven’t drawn a weapon in here, yet. I’m looking for a woman. If she shows up, no one gets hurt, not even her.” And I ignore him and work on my drink.

He goes away. The next person to occupy that stool is a woman. It’s her. I look her in the eye. She is scared of me. Good. I tell her, “Thanks for the escape last time.” I pull out a silver regia piece, plunk it in front of her. “Your payment. Now, I’m going out to the Vaskivin Trough to sit a bit. Find me Zilla, and there’s another one of those in it for you.”

She eyes the coin. “I don’t know any Zilla,” she lies to me.

I shrug. “Then someone else will be the richer.” I get up and leave, ignoring her attempts to talk to me again. I travel over a few blocks to the Vaskivin Trough. It sits in the middle of a square, with a small park, and there are many benches in the square. It’s a popular spot.

I give Zilla two hours tops to show up. It’s the lesser part of an hour before she does. At least she does it in style. One moment there is no one sitting beside me. The next moment, there is.

I look at her. She cackles at me. “So, it’s Sarton’s whelp. You promised the whore money.”

“That I did,” I reply. I pull out another silver regia piece, place it in Zilla’s palm. “See that she gets it. And while we’re at it, I’m not Sarton’s whelp anymore, and don’t you get tired of that eccentric old witch routine?”

She cackles. And then, before my eyes, she transforms. Instead of a withered old woman, she actually becomes an attractive middle-aged woman. Her red skin loses its wrinkles, and her black hair actually shines. She asks me, “Did you really kill a god?”

“I was possessed by another god at the time, but, yes,” I tell her.

“That’s impressive enough. So, what do you want, Tollon of Velgard?”

“An alliance,” I tell her.

Her eyes twinkle. “Tell me more.”

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter LII

Posted on May 12, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon is now a full magician, but he’s still enmeshed in Lady Gwella’s scheming. He needs to find out what she’s up to. Now read on . . .

Sarton is attending Royal Council meetings regularly, trying to figure out the political intrigue in which Lady Gwella is involved. As his assistant magician (not apprentice magician), I’ve gotten my own apartment in the palace. I should be building up strong wards around it. Instead, I’m sitting in the Great Market, waiting for Paviara to appear.

After she came to see me off on my trip to slay a dragon, I figured she’d be eager to see me when I got back. She’s not come, she’s not sent a message, and confidentially, mutual friends, such few as I have left, tell me she abhors me.

The old me would go dashing off to find her and confront her. But I’m a full magician now. I have to act like one. And that means thinking ahead, not rushing off as I did to fight gods. So I do not go to see her, or even try. Instead, I sit in the Great Market, snacking on finger food, drinking weak ale. I’m waiting for her. It’s the third day I’ve spent my time in the market this way.

And here she comes. I avoid looking at her and look down into my beer. I follow her out of the corner of my eye. She sees me, and flinches. And then she walks out of her way to try to stay out of my view.

I wait until she’s past me, and abandon what’s left of my meal to follow her. I’m not going to accost her, no. I follow. I stay far enough behind that she’s unlikely to see me. Fortunately, she’s alone. I don’t have to worry about other eyes, unless we bump into some mutual acquaintance.

She stops by a booth to look at some cheeses. Appropriate conduct for someone who works in the Palace Kitchen. I slowly approach until I’m standing behind her, less than a foot away. After a minute, I leave, and head back to the palace.

That minute was enough to tell me what I wanted to know. Paviara is bespelled. I can’t tell exactly what the spell is, just from standing near her, but I can guess. And now some pieces are beginning to click into place.

The palace guards don’t hassle me anymore. They’ve been told I killed a god who slew the famed mercenary Katrina of Moss. It’s not exactly true, but they started giving me a second look, and decided not to try me.

I go to Sarton’s workshop, or, rather, Sarton’s and my workshop, for that is what it officially is now. I sit at my desk and review the facts.

Witch, n. – A beautiful young woman, in wickedness a league beyond the devil. – from “The Devil’s Dictionary” by Ambrose Bierce

Paviara is bespelled. That was almost certainly done by Lady Gwella after she caught Paviara trying to steal dragon’s teeth from Lady Gwella’s husband, Earl Haulloran. It’s the sort of punishment Lady Gwella would think appropriate: forcing Paviara to betray me and then making her hate me.

But Paviara came to me just before I left to kill a dragon. Which can mean only that Lady Gwella wanted her to. That is probably how Lady Gwella found out what I was going off to do. And why she was on hand so she could trap me after I killed the dragons.

It follows that her desire for me to impregnate her was no spur-of-the-moment decision, but part of a plan that she’d been working on for a while. Since I was a person of little account, presumably the plan was aimed at Sarton. But I doubt Lady Gwella means me any good will.

I’ll tell Sarton all this. But I can’t rely on him. That’s what I had to do as his apprentice. Now, I’m a proper magician. Lady Gwella may get the better of Sarton. I need to be prepared for that.

It is time to go find allies. And I know just where to start.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter LI

Posted on May 11, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton, was sent on a quest for dragon’s teeth, a quest that cost him the life of a friend and his favorite sister. If you haven’t been following the story, you can read all of it by going here. Now read on . . .

Sarton sits down in the library facing me. This is the first time he’s faced me since I’ve come back. He says to me, “Mia swung by and told me everything.”

I nod. It saves me the trouble. I don’t feel much like talking. I haven’t felt much like talking since I returned to this world. Telling my father and step-mother that Jallia was dead didn’t make me any more talkative. And that was a month ago.

“You’ve had a terrible initiation, my boy,” he goes on to say. “Worse than mine. So that’s the end of your apprenticeship.”

It takes me a few moments to realize what Sarton is saying. “I’m no longer your apprentice?”

“That is correct,” he replies. “You are now a full magician in your own right.”

For a moment, I’m elated. But then reality kicks in. “I don’t know half of what you do,” I point out.

“You don’t know a fifth of what I know,” Sarton corrects me. “But you contended with gods without losing your head, and a little bit of the gods has rubbed off on you. That’s master magician level of work. I’d be a fool not to acknowledge it.” Sarton looks around the library and then grins at me. “You have the ability, and you’ve proven it in the most dire way possible.

“So you don’t know as much as I do. You can learn. I can still teach you. And you will now teach me as well.”

I snort. “What can I teach you?”

“Well, for starters, what did you learn in your fight with the gods?” Sarton is genuinely interested.

I sigh. “That I’m not a hero, that being a hero is overrated.”

Sarton actually looks a bit disappointed. “That’s too bad. I always wanted to be one. You’re going to have to explain to me why that’s so.”

“I’m not sure I can.” I have to smile. The thought of me teaching Sarton why being a hero isn’t such a great idea!

“You’ll figure it out,” Sarton confidently replies. “In the meantime, we need to get you new quarters. Since you’re no longer an apprentice, moving back to the servant’s quarters is out of the question. You should have proper quarters here at the palace. I’ll speak to the chamberlain.”

“You’re serious,” I say with some wonder.

Sarton doesn’t reply. He just grins at me.

And then I remember just why I’ve been living in Sarton’s workshop. “What about Lady Gwella?”

Political intrigue at a court often involves family as well. Here we see Pope Paul III and two grandsons(!) he made cardinals

“Mia told me about the two of you. If she’s carrying your child, Tollon, I don’t think she’s going to kill you any time soon. In fact, I doubt she can,” Sarton adds.

“I’d still like to know why she wanted to carry my child but keep me ignorant of the fact.”

“As would I,” Sarton concurs. “As would I. But you’re a full magician now. Lady Gwella doesn’t know that, and if she hears about it, she won’t believe it. You are in an excellent position to catch her by surprise.” Sarton strokes his beard. “Aye, I think it time that you and I made Lady Gwella’s business our business.”

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter L

Posted on May 10, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: The gods have fought. Their fight is over and they are gone. Tollon stands amidst the wreckage. Now read on . . .

The last thing my sister saw was me, the person who had run her through with a sword. Mia’s neck was broken. Katrina was blown to pieces. It hardly matters that Honorable Strunstur’s eyes are gone. And for what?

“To save a world of people.”

Hands take me, arms take me, I’m enveloped in warmth as I cry uncontrollably. I see my sister dying before me. I’ve lost her twice, this time for good, and at my own hands. Oh, Mrokitar was in control, but Jallia will never know that.

“She did. I told her.”

I hear that repeated several times. It slowly sinks in. Not that it matters much.

I hear the same thing over and over again, and I finally sit up and look at who’s been holding me.

It’s Mia.

She answers my question before I can ask it. “You can’t kill a fairy by breaking our necks. We heal.”

“The others?” I ask.

Mia hesitates. I sternly call her by name.

She still hesitates, and then comes out with it. “Katrina’s dead. There’s nothing of her left. Alesca is alive, but unconscious. I don’t know what shape she’ll be in when she wakes up, if she wakes up. Honorable Strunstur . . . he tore his heart out with his bare hands as a sacrifice to Mrokitar while Katrina was engaging Ovedisca. I think it was his own idea. He’s dead.”

“We were going to fight a god,” I say.

Mia looks about. “Judging from the bodies and the wreckage, I’d say we did. We won. Isn’t that what matters, Tollon?”

“Is it?” I get up. I pull my sword out of Jallia’s body and sheath it without even bothering to wipe off the blood. I pick Jallia up and carry her corpse to the front, where I lay it on the altar. Mia brings a cloth from somewhere and drapes it over Jallia’s body.

I look behind the altar. Honorable Strunstur is there, a look of joy on his face, a blood-soaked hole in his chest.

In front of the altar, Honorable Alencar fell where she stood. I kneel down and take her pulse. She’s still living. I stand up and look at Mia. To her I say, “Is this what really matters, Mia?” I feel my anger rising. “We were pawns, nothing but helpless pawns, in a fight between gods.”

Even as I say it, I know it is a lie. Whatever Mrokitar did to me, it means I can understand some things as she would. It had to be us, we each played a role according to our natures. How and why that is so, I cannot explain. But it is so.

I’ve wanted to be a hero when I grew up. I’ve just become one. I’ve saved our world from devastation by Ovedisca’s vanishing sickness.

Whether they were heroes or not matters little to the dead

And I realize being a hero, some person who enjoys flashy successes he can brag about, is worthless. I didn’t really do much of anything. Mia can say we’ve succeeded, and we have, but in light of how it happened, it is a vain and empty claim to honor.

So what is the real honor here? I don’t know. But I do know one thing. We need to bury our dead. We need to help Honorable Alencar recover, whatever that takes. And then we need to go home. That’s what matters now. That’s the most honorable thing we can do. That’s the most honorable thing I can do.

And that is what we do. I dig graves. Mia cleans the corpses and helps Honorable Alencar when she wakes up. She wakes up sane, fortunately, though tired and horrified. The next day, in the rain, we stand by three graves, one of which is empty, to mourn our dead. And then I use a magical spell Honorable Alencar learned, when Mrokitar forced her to do research in the library, to take us back to our world.

END PART FIVE

(Yes, to be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XLIX

Posted on May 9, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon and his friends traveled to another sphere to prevent a god from devastating their world. But another god has taken possession of them and is using them for its own purposes. Now read on . . .

I had imagined the five of us using magic and cold steel to drive Ovedisca from our world. It was going to be our task, our achievement. Instead, we four survivors are pawns in a struggle between two gods.

Ovedisca walks into the temple in the form of my dead(?) sister Jallia. That’s what shocks me into remembering who I am. I’m not Mrokitar. But Mrokitar has possession of my body. I can do nothing but watch. So far as I can tell, all of my companions are just as helpless. I don’t even know if they still exist as separate persons anymore.

Ovedisca comes most of the way forward, until he’s only a few feet from Honorable Alencar, Katrina, and Mia. In my sister’s voice, he hails Mrokitar. “Ho, there! What is this you are doing, Mrokitar?”

Mrokitar uses my voice. “You have once again begun traveling between worlds without my permission, Ovedisca. This will cease.”

Ovedisca is mocking. “Or else?”

Mrokitar doesn’t bother to answer. Instead she draws my magical Etralstan sword. We step off Honorable Strunstur, come around the altar, and step down to the chamber floor.

Ovedisca raises his hand. “No further, Mrokitar.”

Mrokitar laughs, and launches her attack. But not the way Ovedisca might have expected.

Mia, under Mrokitar’s absolute control, unleashes a magical attack on Ovedisca that is frightening in its intensity. Sarton told me months ago that Mia could kill us all, and the magic she unleashed could do just that. It destroys the wall of the temple behind Ovedisca. I can even see it blow up the top of a mountain miles away.

Ovedisca isn’t even scratched. He steps forward, grabs Mia by the throat, and breaks her neck.

And then he falls back as Katrina attacks. A living weapon now, she advances on him, cutting and slicing any part of his body she touches.

Ovedisca falls back again and again, snarling, screaming. And then he strikes back. He blows a hole in Katrina’s left side. But Katrina isn’t properly human anymore; losing part of her body does not stop her. She keeps advancing, and Ovedisca loses a hand to her. But it comes back almost immediately, as he strikes another blow that takes her head off. She lunges at him, and catches him by the foot. He loses half a leg, falls back, and strikes again.

There’s less and less of Katrina left. But each time she touches Ovedisca, her steel body, all edges and points, cuts his body. He seems to take longer to recover each time. It looks like the contest is whether she can damage him enough before he destroys her.

Ovedisca is being forced back. He’s halfway to the door. But by now all that’s left of Katrina are one leg and both arms, which still pursue Ovedisca. Bellowing with rage, Ovedisca gathers his strength, and obliterates Katrina’s remaining body parts. Katrina is gone, completely. She has failed.

The Greek War between the Gods and Giants pitted Athena against Enceladus

As, I guess, she was meant to. For Mrokitar has been moving my body around the inside perimeter of the temple, until I am behind Ovedisca. As Ovesdisca catches his breath from destroying Katrina, Mrokitar and I run his body through with my magical Etralstan sword.

The sword flares as it enters Ovedisca’s body. The magic from it begins spreading through his body, attacking Ovedisca, expelling him from this world. Ovedisca turns and faces us. But he can’t see us, so consumed by agony is he.

And then Ovedisca is gone. The sword becomes just a sword. The body is just that of my sister Jallia. She sees me, manages to speak my name, and then falls to the floor, dead.

Mrokitar has what she wants. She is gone. All the eyes in the temple are closed once again. I fall to the floor, and cry on my sister’s corpse.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XLVIII

Posted on May 8, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon and his friends have cross into another world to fight a god. But there is more than one god in play, and Tollon ran afoul of one of them. Now read on . . .

I’m sitting on a mountain slope watching the sunset, when I realize I’ve been sitting here a while, but have no idea how I got here. I turn and see Mia sitting beside me. So I ask the obvious. “Where are we, Mia? And how did I get here?”

Mia smiles at me. “You’re Tollon, now, aren’t you?”

“Who else would I be?”

“Mrokitar,” she replies.

I remember. I talked with Mrokitar. I made the mistake of challenging Mrokitar. I think I became Mrokitar. “What have I been doing?”

“Setting up a battle, I’d say,” Mia tells me. “You sent all the Tebestora school people home, transformed Alesca, Katrina, and Strunstur, and brought us here.”

“Transformed?”

Mia’s smile fades. “You forced Alseca to spend an entire day doing research in the library, without any breaks for food, water, or even relieving herself. I had to plead with you to get you to remove your control. As for what you did to Katrina and Strunstur, you’ll see when you meet them. They’re up there.” And she gestures behind us.

I look up the slope. There is a temple on the top of the mountain.

I shake my head. “I remember none of this.”

“You were Mrokitar. Probably Mrokitar and Tollon, both. Alesca is not sure whether you have a distinct identity anymore.”

“I’m me,” I exclaim.

“That, no one doubts,” Mia replies. “But who ‘you’ embraces is the question.”

I get up. “I should talk to the learned lady.”

Mia gets up as well. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if she’s still frightened of you.”

There’s something appealing about a temple in the mountains
(Credit: Wikipedia/Martin Falbisoner)

We walk up the slope. I take a look at the architecture. It’s a temple. Its ornaments are geometrical figures, interspersed with two paired ovals. I ask, “Whose temple is this?”

Mia hesitates before answering, “Mrokitar’s. Apparently the only temple in existence dedicated to her.”

That explains the ovals. They are a pair of eyes, empty eyes.

Inside, in the main hall, I see three people sitting, talking among themselves. I’m shocked at what I see. Honorable Alencar has aged twenty years in appearance, looking positively withered. Katrina? If I didn’t know that’s who she is, I’d have trouble recognizing her. She’s now made of metal. Every point on her body is now a sharp edge, a sharp point. She is a weapon.

The three of them see us and fall silent. The third figure stands up and comes toward us. It’s Honorable Strunstur. He’s dressed in a robe suitable for a priest. And he’s torn his eyes out. He falls down in front of me. “O great Mrokitar, She Who Walks Through Worlds.”

Mrokitar’s priest. My priest. My temple. It’s time I used my temple. I stride forward to the altar, my priest trailing behind me. My priest falls down on the floor behind the altar, and I stand on him. The other three are compelled to come before the altar.

I look around the temple. Geometric designs, and eyes. But they are not empty eyes. No, they are closed eyes. I make them open. A thousand eyes open on every ceiling, wall, and column, every surface of my temple. Now my eyes are everywhere. Their power pervades the temple. The humans see the eyes look into them and become mine. Even the fairy can find no escape from my eyes. She barely cries out before she becomes one of my tools.

I am ready. Come, Ovedisca.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XLVII

Posted on May 7, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon is trying to stop a god from devastating his world. But the problem in dealing with gods is that they like to play with humans. Now read on . . .

I’m sitting in a chair in the middle of . . . nothing. The girl is sitting facing me. She has eyes and teeth, now. Not that it matters.

She says to me, in a voice appropriate for a girl of her age (maybe nine), “You didn’t flinch.”

I shrug. “I’m tired from digging up people. And after fighting dragons and seeing my sister get killed, I’m kind of running out of ways to be shocked. Besides, I have a good idea what you are.”

“And that is?”

The gods love to play tricks: here Odin appears as three kings to a mortal

“Mrokitar, She Who Walks Among Worlds, which is what you’ve been doing. But I don’t understand the game you’re playing,” I add.

“Game?” Her bewilderment appears genuine.

“Appearing as the highwayman. A strange way to give me a sword. Appearing now as a girl in a crystal coffin to enter our ranks unsuspected.”

“But that is how it must be done,” she replies, as if it were obvious.

“Why?”

Her puzzlement increases. “What do you mean?”

“Why? What reason do you have for this roundabout way to deal with me?”

“Reality is. It does not require reasons to justify its structure.” She delivers this as if it is obvious.

“But you have to decide what to do and why,” I reply.

She stares at me. She shakes her head. “You don’t understand me, do you?”

“I guess not,” I reply. “You’re a god.” And then I foolishly add, “You don’t understand me, do you?”

Do not challenge gods. DO NOT CHALLENGE GODS. By implying that the god’s power has limits, I am challenging the god. That is not my intention, but my intention is irrelevant. Only what the god thinks is relevant.

Looking very determined, the god says, “We will both understand each other.”

A god says you will understand her, you will understand her. Immediately, a slew of ideas pour into my brain. I see whole new ways of understanding the world around me. More and more come in, until I have the mind of a god.

Which is only natural. I am a god. I am Mrokitar. I was, am, and will be Mrokitar.

I notice I have a human body that I didn’t create. Yes, him, Tollon of Velgard. His nature is simple, easy to understand. He lacks the capabilities to be a god, so he cannot understand what a god is. Nevertheless, he has his uses, his place in reality. Return him to it. See he is in the condition he must be to be part of that reality.

And in the sphere of reality from which Tollon was taken, Honorable Alesca Alencar wakes up from a brief nap when she’s struck by Tollon’s flailing arms. To her dismay, he looks as if he is having an epileptic fit in his chair. But Alesca has been a school instructor for many years. She has dealt with all manner of ill students. She’s only struck about a half-dozen times more by Tollon as she shifts his body onto the floor, cushions his head so his jerks don’t give him a concussion, and jams his jaws apart so he cannot bite his tongue. Only then does she call for help.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XLVI

Posted on May 6, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: To prevent a god from ravaging their world, Tollon and his friends have come to another world, which has already tried to kill them. Now read on . . .

The gods are playing with us. Ovedisca took my sister as a sacrifice. But he’s got opposition.

We follow a path through the woods and come out at a replica of the Tebestora school. I catch a glimpse of my highwayman up ahead and head toward what feels like the inevitable goal: the graveyard.

(Credit: Wikipedia/Arantz)

The graveyard here is not quite the same as in our world. There is no chapel, none at all. Clearly a chapel for Thessar is not welcome here. And there are many, many fresh graves.

Katrina and I get shovels from the gravedigger’s shack and dig. Only one foot down, we hit something solid. It turns out to be a crystal coffin. And one of the students is in it. She looks as if she knew she was being sealed up when she was put in it. That’s a look of stark horror on her face.

Two more graves yield another student and an instructor. All looking as if the horror of what’s happening was the last thing they knew.

Katrina goes back to the first coffin and smashes the shovel into it as hard as she can. It has no effect. She tries the flat of the blade, the edge of the blade. Still no effect.

I have an inspiration. I stand on the other side of the coffin and draw my sword.

Katrina shakes her head, “You’ll just dull . . . hmmm, maybe not.”

I give her a tight smile. “Maybe not.” I don’t want to cut the girl in two, so I line up my stroke by bringing the tip of the sword down to touch the coffin. I mean to lift it, but it has other ideas. A cold white fire starts rising up the blade from the coffin. It flares, and I jerk away the sword.

There’s a girl screaming in the grave. She’s alive. And my sword now has a slight white glow along the edge, as well as a red one in the center.

§

We are five days unearthing coffins and freeing their occupants. They are all hysterical, with one exception, when they are freed. Quite a few still are. Honorable Alencar has been ministering to them, marshalling those that have recovered. Mia’s been helping her.

It is late in the fifth afternoon. I’m resting in the old school building, well, this duplicate of the old school building. It makes me feel comfortable, and I need that. My muscles are sore from days of digging. My sword can light up a room.

Honorable Alencar comes in. I start to greet her, and she barks out a short laugh. “After these many days, Tollon, I think you can call me Alesca.” She sits down beside me on the bench. “There’s one person missing, and one extra person.” She looks around to make sure she’s not being overheard. “Honorable Strunstur is not among the ones you’ve freed. And that girl who didn’t scream when you freed her? She’s not one of ours.”

“Who is she, then?”

“No one knows.” Alesca frowns. “She’s been helpful. Never talks, but she has a way with the hysterical ones. They calm down quite a bit with her around.” She bites her lip. “No one’s seen her eat. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t drink, she doesn’t sleep, and I’m beginning to think she doesn’t breathe. She’s too warm to be a reanimated corpse.” She shrugs. “I have no clue as to what she can be.” She yawns. “And I am so tired.” In a moment, her head drops down, and I can hear her softly snoring.

Without quite knowing how, I realize there is somebody sitting on the other side of me. I turn. It’s the girl. Dark yellow of skin, dark brown of hair, and as I look into her eyes, I see that there is nothing there. She opens her mouth. There are no teeth, no tongue, just emptiness. The mouth quickly opens wider and wider, until it’s big enough to swallow me whole. Which it does.

(To be continued . . . we hope!)

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