The Wizard's Apprentice (The Apprentice) (13 page)

They sat on a nearby log and nibbled on some nuts and dried fruit that Brock had stowed in his pocket.

Benjamin was the first to return. Seeing his prisoners unbound and Brock wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, obviously having just eaten, the man's jaw dropped open and his eyebrows shot up. "What?" he exclaimed.

Zebulon gave him a stern look and stood up so that he had the advantage of his greater height. "Your men didn't do as good a job at tying as they thought they had. However, you can see we
ha
ve not fled.
You have made the wrong assumptions and accused us of a crime we didn't commit. We will help you if we can, but we require that you treat us with the same respect we have given you."

The authority in Zebulon's voice gave Benjamin pause to think and he stood for a long moment rubbing his chin and staring at the two.

Finally he said, "Perhaps we were too hasty. If you are, as you say, innocent, then I apologise. We will give you the benefit of the doubt, but we will be watching you closely."

As he finished speaking, other men
arrived
and were equally surprised to see the captives free. They began grumbling and cursing until Benjamin held up his hand and advised them of the circumstances. Having had their breakfast, most were in a more reasonable frame of mind but some still growled. Fortunately Benjamin, through the power of his personality held sway over most of the men. Something in Zebulon's manner also held them in check. It didn't stop Gamble from making a fuss and wishing a curse on the whole community and their families for several generations.

The men made haste to gather up implements that would serve as weapons. No offer was made to give Zebulon or Brock any, or to offer them a meal. Two pretty young girls, feeling sorry for the wrongly accused, shyly offered them a platter on which were some large
chunks
of sourdough bread and cold meats, and some interesting looking fruit muffins.

Zebulon accepted the offered nourishment with a solemn nod of thanks, while Brock engaged in chatter about the muffins as more girls and young women joined the first two. Some of the men growled but they were ignored, the women and girls being far more inclined to see fairness.

Brock
’s
leisurely enjoyment was shortened as the wizard placed a hand on his neck and firmly encouraged him to move along.

Coming to the yard where the horses had been penned, it was easy to see where the fence had been cut. The men followed the clear tracks made by the robbers' horses and the stolen ones.

"It's no use," said Benjamin after they had tracked for hours. "They will have long gone."

The prints of the horses hoo
ves
had become indistinct as the surrounding ground became harder.

"The old elf, Morcion, lives in a shack near here, maybe he has seen something," suggested one of the men.

Shortly they came to a humble but well kept shack surrounded by gardens, as well as fruit and nut trees. The owner was obviously industrious. Brock's eye was travelling over the inviting feast of plum red tomatoes when suddenly Morcion raised himself up from behind a nearby shrub, small spade in his hand. Quickly he stooped and plucked one of the biggest tomatoes and with a broad grin, handed it to Brock.

"One can not deny a reward to someone so appreciative of fine foods." His shrewd eyes moved  quickly over the rest of the gathering, recognising the men from the village before coming to rest on Zebulon. "What are you doing here Zebulon?"

The men looked on in some confusion and embarrassment as the old elf lea
pt
forward and flung his arms around Zebulon. The wizard grabbed Morcion and lifted him off the ground as though he was a child. Brock watched with amusement.

"You don't look a day older than when I last saw you," said Zebulon.

"Not a day younger either! But you, you are still such a young one still" said Morcion as his feet touched solid ground once more.

Benjamin cleared his throat. He knew Morcion was an individual with keen awareness. If the robbers had passed by, he would know. "Morcion", he said with a certain deference towards the old elf, "did you see any men come past here with horses?"

"Early this morning, yes. They looked a nasty lot, though they pretended to treat me with respect. They wanted food and water."

"They stole our horses during the night."

"It seemed to me they were up to mischief. I overheard them say they were going on to Carsdale to sell some horses. They thought I was a bit deaf...don't know what gave them that idea." Morcion's eyes twinkled and crunched up at the corners.

It was agreed they turn back. Zebulon and Brock to collect their belongings and new supplies, and the men to plan a journey into Carsdale to see the law enforcement officer. Morcion disappeared into his small hut and came out with a package which he handed to Benjamin. "Here is the trinket for your daughter."

Benjamin unwrapped the package to reveal an exquisitely crafted bracelet. "Thank you, it is beautiful. She will love it. I will bring payment tomorrow."

"This village makes the best wine around these parts," Morcion explained to Zebulon and Brock, He smacked his lips in anticipation.

"That's why we need our horses so we can take the wine and other produce to sell in Carsdale," Benjamin told them.

"You'll return here to visit with me before continuing on?" Morcion asked Zebulon.

"The day will be well spent by the time we pass here again. Maybe we can spend the night."

Morcion rubbed his hands with pleasure. He enjoyed his solitude and did not encourage too many visits but he liked the villagers and he had pleasure in seeing Zebulon.

"I will expect you for dinner then."

Returning to the village, Zebulon quickly arranged the purchase of their supplies while Brock packed their belongings. They made their farewells on reasonable terms, many of the men apologising and even Gamble mumbled a shamefaced apology. The girls offered Brock sweet smiles and some of the ladies fluttered their eyelids at Zebulon. Benjamin's eldest son, Conner, was to join them at Morcion's hut in the morning and accompany them to Carsdale to see the law officer there.

Morcion had a delicious meal ready for them when they returned. The old elf, who had taken a fancy to Brock, particularly enjoyed watching him as he devoured the food with such obvious enjoyment.

"So how is my brother?" asked Morcion.

"He is content. You should go and visit him," replied Zebulon.

"It is many years. He should visit me. He is the one with the magic, he could blink himself here."

"He is old. I don't think he has the energy for that amount of effort."

"Well, maybe I'll ma
ke
a trip soon. Haven't left these parts for a long time. So what brings you here?"

"We are following the trail of Theron."

"Now there was a great wizard!"

"You knew him?" Brock asked in wonder.

Morcion threw back his head and laughed. "I may be old, but not that old!"

Brock was embarrassed and stammered an apology.

"No need to worry, young one. I'm not easily offended. After a moment of quiet reminiscing he continued. "My grandfather knew him when he was very old. My grandfather passed on many of the stories to Kareem and me. That is the reason Kareem became interested in learning magic. And I became interested in mining and making trinkets. Has Kareem still got Theron's pendant, Zebulon?"

"He passed it on to me."

"I trust you take good care of it."

"Of course." Zebulon was silent after that and it was left to Morcion and Brock to liven the evening. Brock asked ma
ny
questions and listened in rapture as Morcion told colourful stories of the "old days."

"After Theron found the ruby his beloved gave him a beautiful rich green stone."

"The peridot?"

"Yes. Have you seen it?"

"Zebulon has told me about it."

"It was after she gave the peridot to him that he decided to make the pendant. The pendant is very valuable and famous. I'm surprised that my brother has given it to someone as young and hot headed as Zebulon."

Brock found the Morcion's description of the great wizard very amusing. He looked across at Zebulon to see how he had reacted to it. The wizard sat back in the chair, is eyelids closed as in sleep, but a twitch played around the corners of his mouth so Brock knew he was enjoying the discourses of the old elf.

Conner must have left the village before dawn because he arrived at the hut as Zebulon and Brock had finished preparing the horses for the journey. Zebulon had distributed the baggage so that Conner could ride one of the horses. He was a pleasant young man, about Brock's height but was more heavily built owing to the day to day work on the farm.

The sun was disappearing behind the horizon, leaving the sky splashed with pinks and purple as the three rode into town. They headed straight for the major inn in the centre of Carsdale and after depositing their belongings in a rented room, arranged for the horses to be stabled, the
n
set out for the law office. Conner had wanted to question the people at the stables to see if there had been some strangers in town who had extra horses but Zebulon advised against it until they had spoken to the law officer.

They found Carsdale's law enforcer seated behind a cluttered desk. He was a big man, broad shouldered and with a no nonsense manner about him. He knew Conner, having seen him many times with Benjamin and also being a satisfied customer of the village's fine wine. This made it easier for them to explain their problem.

"Yes five men had come into town bringing with them six horses. They are right now arranging the sale of five horses to one of the farmers," stated the law man.

"They are ours, we have to stop them," said Conner.

As they approach the yards where the sale took place, they saw five men in the distance, riding with haste. Conner was perplexed, for the horses sold to the farmer were not his. It was quickly realised by the law officer that the cunning men had sold their own five horses, thereby being able to show proof of ownership, and had taken the six stolen horses.

Arrangements were quickly being made to follow after them, though it was doubted that they would catch them. Brock felt a sensation run through him and knew magic had been used. He glanced at Zebulon who
se
face was passive, but as everyone watched in amazement, the five horsemen with an extra horse on a lead, rode back into town. It may not have seemed so odd except the men were desperately trying to reign the horses in and head them back in the direction from whence they had been travelling. But the horses had their own agenda and would not be stilled until they stood in front of their happy owner.

The thieves tried to make a run for it but they stumbled and were quickly overpowered by the law officer and a few hearty farm hands. Having no idea of Zebulon's involvement in the easy return of the horses, Conner was pleased he would be returning to the village with them and bade a friendly farewell to Zebulon and Brock the following morning.

As the travellers set off on
the next leg of their trip, Brock was uneasy. He kept looking around expecting to see something unpleasant.

"Something bothering you?" asked Zebulon.

"No, nothing."

"Come now young lad, I thought we agreed there would not be any secrets?"

"There
aren’t any.
And anyway," Brock continued defensively, "You didn't
admit
to using magic to bring the horses back!"

"Why should I tell you what you already knew
?
And it was of no business to anyone else."

"Well it's nothing. Just thinking something silly."

Zebulon gave him a searching look. "You think you recognised two of the young villains
?
You are anxious now that Orville maybe somewhere around
?
"

Brock nodded.

"You are right," continued Zebulon. Two of them were with Orville when you were captured. But I don't think you have to worry about Orville being anywhere near here. He uses villains for hire but he doesn't continue to associate with them. I don't like him, but he is far too intelligent to befriend ones such as that lot,
or to be involved in stealing horses or anything else like that. He is finding his way back to M
u
stafa, I should think. You are wise though, to always be aware of who is around you."

The day grew hot but they pressed on with only short rest so they could make up for lost time. They had gone off their course to come into Carsdale. Zebulon was growing impatient to obtain the ruby and to commence the homeward journey.

They travelled for days on deserted tracks and finally began
climbing
more mountains. It was a slow tiring journey. Many times they needed to dismount and lead the horses. They passed through more tiny villages where people turned to stare before continuing with their chores. Women in rough plain clothes, dug vegetable patches or chopped huge logs of wood. The menfolk loaded wagons with a pungent substance to trundle off into the fields to fertilise the crops.

Once the villages were left behind the track became steeper, almost disappearing in some places. On the lower slopes the hillsides were green but above them trees began to crowd them out and the landscape became more rugged. The horses were reluctant to continue.

They found a small cave in the rocks, overlooking a stream, and rested there.

"Is that the Ruby River?" Brock asked hopefully.

The wizard gave a deep chuckle. "That would be most convenient."

Days turned into weeks and Brock lost track of time. His hands were blistered and covered in small cuts from climbing the steep tracks. Each night he had lain down with aching muscles and extra bruises and injuries. But he had become very fit and muscular so that his shirt could scarcely stretch over his broadening shoulders. He took a secret delight in his changing body, a thing not unnoticed by Zebulon who was amused at his young apprentice's vanity.

No matter how much they had worked to reach their camp for the night, Zebulon would always see that Brock spend time studying magic. Though his skill in that area was increasing, Brock wished he could make the same degree of advancement he was able to make with his physical capabilities. Always Zebulon would encourage him to be patient.

One morning they had set out early but were hampered by a fog which became thicker and thicker making progress slow and dangerous. They had only travelled a few hours when it was decided it be advisable to set up camp. Finally when the fog had cleared they travelled only a short distance before discovering they could look down on the Ruby River. It was like a blue ribbon winding through the hills. It was a beautiful sight.

Leaving the horses to graze on what little grass they could find, they abseiled from a small cliff, going down in well practised short leaps, before continuing to the edge of th
e
river via a rough track. The water looked inviting and Brock need
ed
no further encouragement to proceed to the next task. Zebulon instructed him in detail about what he was to do before casting a spell which would enable Brock to breathe underwater. Each one downed the potion which would help them to communicate so that Zebulon could guide Brock to where the ruby lay.

So eager was Brock that he felt Zebulon was trying to hold him back with all the extra instructions.

"It's good to be eager young lad, but the water is deep and we want to be sure you understand what is expected of you." Brock heard  Zebulon's words in his mind and he responded with his own mind.

As he dived into the water he felt the cool gather around him. It was exhilarating. Zebulon's voice could be heard in his mind: "Concentrate!" Brock looked up to where the wizard stood on the bank, gave a smile and wave before disappearing beneath the water.

He still expected to have to come up for air but he went further down with no problem. He really was breathing under water. Zebulon guided him where he should go, through words but also through images. The water flowed around him as he moved easily through it. It seemed as though he was part of the river. Some small fish swam nearby and treated him as one of the river creatures.

When Brock could clearly see the image of the ruby he was sure he must be close. He felt his pulse quicken with the expectancy of holding the precious gem in his hand. He could see it now in greater clarity. It was truly a majestic stone. Zebulon's words affirmed his nearness. As the image of the stone became more intense it began to change shape into the appearance of perfectly formed red lips.

Brock ceased his forward movement and became entranced. A face, a breathtakingly beautiful face, formed around the lips. Blue eyes, as blue as the river looked at him wistfully. The lips parted, and though he heard no voice he was sure she was imploring him to follow her. As the image disappeared into the ripple of the water, Brock cried desperately for her to wait. He was not sure if he had said it with his voice or his mind, but it mattered little because he felt he was communicating with her through his mind.

The beautiful creature reappeared and this time she extended her hand. Brock reached out for it but found it just out of his reach. Swimming towards her, all other thoughts were forgotten and he was ready to follow where she led. He heard a murmuring voice in his mind, beckoning him and he was ready to submit. But as soon as he reached this state he began to feel uneasy.

Suddenly Brock felt panic rising within him. He realised that he could no longer hear Zebulon's words or see any of the images the wizard and been projecting to him. Where had Zebulon gone? Was something wrong with him? Brock couldn't breathe:
T
he spell was broken. The image of the woman vanished. If he could reach the top before his breath ran out he might be safe but he didn't know which way was up, which way was down. He was completely lost. He felt his lungs burning and ready to burst. Everything went black and he was sure he was drowning. Cold fear stole into his heart. He was sure now that the alluring creature was some evil being there to lure him into his grave.

The woman reappeared, but Brock was past caring about her, he only wanted to live. In those agonising moments a thought came to him. He had practised the protection spell many times, maybe that would help him now. But he could not remember the words. He remembered some of Zebulon's instruction: Be calm, concentrate. He found he was still able to breathe unde
r
water. Once he stilled the turmoil in his brain, the words of the spell came to him and he recited them over and over. The woman's image became one of rage and her form became ugly.

Zebulon's voice, strong and reassuring came into Brock's mind. Once more the image of the ruby appeared and he could see where he was to go. The lady of the water had vanished and he felt she would not return. He swam easily to where the gem lay.

Brock surfaced in the water and as Zebulon pulled him from the river he fixed him with an intense gaze. Brock, pleased to be have accomplished his mission quickly opened his hand to reveal the ruby but Zebulon took no notice of it.

"What happened to you down there?" he demanded.

"What do you mean
?
You stopped communicating with me. I thought someone had killed you or something," said Brock in an injured voice.

"No something happened to you, and you broke connection with me. I felt intense fear and I was getting ready to blast you out of the water, but
then
I felt your spell and knew you were safe."

"You could tell I used the protection spell? It really does work!"

"Now tell me what happened."

Brock reluctantly related the story to Zebulon. Now on dry ground he felt embarrassed and stupid.

"Was she dangerous?" he asked when he had finished.

"She is a water sprite. They are very dangerous to men for they use their thoughts and desire against them."

"Why didn't you warn me?"

"I thought you would be safe...but obviously you are not an innocent child anymore."

"What do you mean?" As the answer to his own question came to him, Brock's face reddened right up to the roots of his spiky hair.

The tension both had felt was broken. Zebulon's lips curled in amusement. "Show me the prize."

He took the gem from Brock's outstretched hand and examined it with deep satisfaction. "Well done. Thank you."

Brock's complexion had returned to normal but his eyes shone with pleasure at Zebulon's praise.

For a long while they both gazed on the stone, marvelling at its deep intense colour. In its centre was a slight tinge of blue which added to its magnificence.

"A stone of love and passion," commented Zebulon in a reflective tone.

The day was coming to a close. Both travellers had no energy to make the steep climb back up the mountain so it was decided to camp by the river for the night. The horses would be safe for the night under Zebulon's spell. With what was left of the fading light, Zebulon worked to fit the ruby into its rightful place in the pendant while Brock prepared a welcome meal.

They journe
yed
back to Benjamin's village. They had stopped to see Morcion but were informed by some of the young villagers working in his garden that he had left several days ago to visit his brother.

Brock was disappointed. "Maybe we will overtake him on the way," he said hopefully.

The night was spent at the village, and both were made welcome with friendship. They were still puzzling as to why the robbers had brought the horses back but did not suspect Zebulon
had
achieved that.

After leaving the village they headed for Kotonia. Brock was looking forward to seeing their friends again. To his surprise, as they passed through the village, no one seemed to remember them.

"It's not that long ago, how come no one recognises us?"

"It is the spell I placed before we left to protect them if M
us
tafa should come calling. I left some false trails for him also, so that he would not easily follow us. We need to be more vigilant now that we are back here."

"Will Uri, Elvira and Minerva remember us?"

"Yes, Uri and his family knew how to be quiet if M
u
stafa came."

The little family was delighted to see their friends again. Elvira fussed over them and cooked delicious meals for them. They stayed to rest for a number of days, and to visit with their friends. Brock and Minerva fell into easy companionship and joined the other young villagers in the going entertainment of dance and games. Zebulon relaxed also in the company of his good friends although he still had time for silent reflection, a space in his own mind where no one was admitted.

Brock observed a pain which Zebulon kept to himself and despite the wizards own reminders to Brock about not keeping secrets, the elf knew better than to push these boundaries.

They discovered that M
u
stafa had come to the village with Orville in search of Zebulon but no one was able to give him any information. He questioned Uri but the wise elf knew how to handle himself with M
u
stafa. He kept his wife and daughter hidden for the time the unwelcome guest remained. He was unable to tell which way they had headed. Zebulon's main concern had been that M
u
stafa was not close enough to have felt him make use of magic.

As they continued on their journey, Zebulon instructed Brock with even more urgency for him to improve his magic skills.

"Shall we visit Brookfield farm?" asked Brock hopefully.

"It is too far out of our way, besides we may not be so welcome there because of our hurried unannounced departure." He smiled at Brock. "I'm sorry, you wanted to see a certain young lady?'

"She was a good friend. Yes, I would have liked to see her again," Brock replied soberly.

That time seemed another world away to Brock and so did his home. He wondered what it would be like to be back there again. He began to recognise some familiar country as they came nearer to home. A sadness came over him. Although he had left reluctantly and he was happy to see family and friends again, he knew that the experiences he
’d
had and the friendship he now had with Zebulon were treasures he would not forget. He did not feel quite ready to give up this part of his life.