The Wizard's Apprentice (The Apprentice) (16 page)

At the castle door, a servant met them. "He is holding Lady Saniyah in the art studio."

"I will go there. Brock, stay close to me, but not too close. The spell placed around you will render you undetected by Mustafa if  you are careful, but it can be penetrated by one such as he.  Keep the pendant hidden in the pouch until I signal you, otherwise he will feel its energy and he will discover you too soon."

The rooms of the castle were magnificent. Polished wooden floors gleamed from the lighting placed around the rooms and soft thick carpets bade visitors welcome. Brock gazed about the rooms in wonder, forgetting briefly the terrible reason they were here. A large dark polished table commanded attention in the centre of the dining room. High-backed chairs with rich red cushions were placed about it. What glorious feasts could be had there thought Brock. In an instant he was brought back to his reality by the firm grip of Zebulon's hand on the back of his neck, directing him to go behind a couch in the next room.

As he crept to his hiding place he had just enough time to see a tall man standing waiting on the far side of the room. His resemblance to the image he had seen in his dream at the old mine, sent unpleasant tingling sensations up and down his spine. From his place of concealment he could easily watch Zebulon and see the others in the room.

“At last you come Zebulon,” said Mustafa. “You come alone?” He raised his eyebrows in mock amusement.

Orville stood to one side of Mustafa, a self-satisfied smirk on his face and on the other side Saniyah stood as if bound, yet no rope was visible. She looked too slender and her creamy skin too pale. Her eyes were large, deep and fearful. Her shapely mouth, trembled and seemed to be silently pleading. Even in this state of despair she was very beautiful.

Brock was sure Zebulon saw her, but gave no indication that he was aware of her, his entire focus was on M
u
stafa. However, Saniyah did not take her eyes off him from the moment he entered the room.

“Did you think I would bring Kareem so you could toy with him?” Zebulon's voice was strong. He would not be intimidated by
Mustafa
.

“I have had amusement enough with your lady. Now, you know why I'm here. Let us make it easy. You give me the pendant which is rightfully mine, and I let your lady go. Look at her, see how distressed she is. There is no reason she should suffer further.”

“Do not let yourself sink to such depths, the pendant can never be yours, it would destroy you and be lost.”

Mustafa gave a hard bitter laugh.“You would know about these things! Because you could not keep it yourself you think I
can
not. It would not destroy me. I would put it to better use than you. And where is it now? I don't perceive you have it with you. That is a mistake.”

“It is not with me.”

“With Kareem then. Should I take the lady and go after Kareem?”

“Let the lady go, and we will discuss this. If you harm her further then there is nothing to protect you from me.”

“You have always thought yourself better than me. I'll take my chances. Can you afford the same chances with the lady you love?”

Mustafa extended his hand towards Saniyah and she grasped at her throat as if an invisible hand was slowly strangling her. Zebulon stood as if made of stone. Brock had gained a position where he could see Saniyah more easily. He saw her distress as she gasped for air, and expected an immediate signal from Zebulon. His heart was pounding so hard it felt as though it would break the bounds of his chest.

Watching the agony of Saniyah was too much for Brock. Time had become distorted for him and where seconds passed he believed it to be minutes. He was sure he must have missed Zebulon's signal, for he would not leave her to suffer so long.

Removing the pendant from the pouch, he stood up and in one fluid movement cast the protection spell which would release Saniyah from that terrible grasp. Brock had no idea how this action would drain all his strength for the magic he was up against was stronger than he had ever encountered. Exhausted he fell to the floor, the pendant slipping from his limp hand.

In that same instant Mustafa, realising the intrusion on his containment spell, blast
ed
Brock with a deadly bolt rendering him unconscious. Saniyah, now free, rushed to Brock's side.

Saniyah gathered up the pendant so that she and Brock
would
be protected from further attack. She cradled Brock's head on her lap and held the pendant to his chest. She ha
d
never seen this young elf before but he had rescued her and she was full of compassion for this sweet young life. He had looked at her as she placed his head on her lap. His eyes were wide and dark, full of pain. She did not know if he really saw her for then his mind took over and rendered him unconscious because what he suffered was too great.

Zebulon, on seeing his fallen apprentice, began to send out bolts of energy at Mustafa so he ha
d
no time to follow up any evil destruction on Brock or Saniyah. The room crackled with the sound of energy strikes and a blaze as intense blue light flashed between them.

The angry sneer on Mustafa's face at the challenge to his power from such a lowly being as a young elf was quickly replaced with one of fear as he realised he had underestimated Zebulon's might.

While the battle raged on between the wizards, Saniyah hung her thick hair like a curtain between the fight and the pro
ne
youth. She studied his features with growing wonder. His face was white and motionless, giving it a look of marble. Within his features were traces of the child still, but then the firm jaw, the leanness of his face, which she could imagine were once chubby cheeks, the sensitive shape of his mouth, all formed a beautiful face. She stroked his high, intelligent forehead lightly with trembling fingers and in her fear and agitation she weaved them into his thick dark hair. A tear rolled down her cheek as she watched him struggle for every small breath. Waves of pain flowed through Brock's body. If in consciousness he had wished for death, it was in unconsciousness he found sweet relief.

Orville s
a
nk against the wall to be out of the way of the blue lightning issuing from Zebulon. He had tasted his force before but as he watched the magnificent wizard he knew that without a doubt it had only been a weak representation of the damage he was capable of inflicting. He knew to be struck would bring certain death. He had no trust in M
u
stafa either. So intent was he in his desire to destroy Zebulon, that he would not be concerned for Orville's well being. As the fight continued in all fury, he edged his way around to where Saniyah and Brock were. He could see M
u
stafa was weakening against the might of Zebulon, so he needed to act now. He would collect the pendant and escape with it. He didn't understand its magic but he was sure its value without magic would be immense.

He was quite close to Saniyah now, and so engaged was she in comforting the young elf, she was oblivious to his presence. He was sure he could overpower her. As he saw the prone elf and did not know whether he was alive or dead, a wave of remorse swept over him. Then the young woman raised dark eyes to his and held his gaze. The fire in her eyes seemed to reflect the red tints from her chestnut hair. So taken aback with the contrast of fearful submission he had expected, that he hesitated and took a step backward. One glance at the fight that raged nearby and he realised he must carry forth his aim, for his master would soon lose to the stronger wizard. If he was not to leave this place empty handed, he must break her hold over him and focused his attention once more on the prize for which he had come.

He noticed she held the pendant lightly and quickly he made his move to snatch it. As he touched the pendant a short but powerful shock passed through him and he was thrown off balance, landing hard upon the floor.

Dark blue eyes glared back at him. "Do you think the pendant will let such unworthiness take possession of it? If you have any sense whatsoever, you will make haste to leave here."

Burning pain shot up his arm and his fingers tingled. His arm lay limp at his side. As he raised himself from the floor and backed away he could see that Mustafa was already defeated. Holding his injured arm, he began to sneak around behind Zebulon all the while holding his pain
ful
arm.

A final blow from Zebulon collapsed Mustafa to the floor where he lay as his enemy advanced on him. Zebulon stood over his crumpled form ready to make the final retribution.

“The pendant is mine,” whimpered Mustafa.

“The pendant can never belong to one person,
and can never be possessed by one with such evil in his heart.”

Zebulon began to chant words over and over as Mustafa lay prone upon the floor. Gradually any defiance which may had remained was replaced with a look almost of stupor.

“I cannot take all your magic but I have wiped your memory of the spells you have learned. It will be a long time before you even realise that you had something that you lost.”

Having said that, Zebulon began building a whirlwind and sent Mustafa flying through a large doorway.

Orville who had been struck with horror at the defeat of his master, decided it was time to remove himself. Swiftly and silently he made his way to an opposite door while Zebulon was thus occupied, but before he made it to safety he was stopped in his tracks.

Zebulon pinned him to the wall while he strode across the room to where his victim was held."Should I treat you the same way?"

He increased the intensity of his power so that Orville began to
shake
in pain and cried out for him to stop.

"I want you t
o remember
what happens when you cause harm to those dear to me."

“Please,
I beg of you..
. I didn't know it would be like this. I just want to leave and I
will
never trouble you again,” Orville pleaded.

“Then let me help you on your way.” He gave a further twist and then suddenly blasted Orville through the nearest doorway. He had sent the perpetrators a long way off, but in different directions. He hoped that Orville would have the good sense not to seek Mustafa out, but even if he did, it would take him considerable time, and then he would discover it wasn't worth the effort. Once he had
dealt with Orville
, he hurried with grave concern to where Saniyah sat with Brock.

“We will take him to your room. It is closest. Send a messenger to fetch Karm
e
n immediately.”

Saniyah pulled on a cord to summon one of her servants. Zebulon, himself greatly weakened by the use of his power could hardly lift Brock's limp body. Brock opened his eyes. He felt he was being lifted into the clouds. He vaguely saw Zebulon and Saniyah above him. It was so nice they were in the clouds with him he thought, before intense pain racked his body and he knew no more.

They lay him on a large bed. Saniyah saw that his head
lay
gentl
y
on the pillow and then she covered him with a soft blanket. Zebulon collapsed to his knees and buried his head in his hands. But then he knew the urgency of what he must do and immediately forgot his own fatigue and sorrow. He raised himself up and began administering a healing spell.

Putting the pendant into the elf's limp hand, Zebulon repeated the healing spell, holding his hands above Brock so that energy flowed down to him. The servant entered and Saniyah sent him on his way once she explained what was to be communicated to Karm
e
n.

Zebulon sat by the bedside. He was as still as a statue other than at times when the young elf would moan and toss around. Then he would grasp Brock's hands and speak soothingly to him until the spasm had passed. Saniyah, ever hovering nearby would move swiftly to the bed and administer to the elf by wiping the sweat from his feverish brow with a soft cloth.

Neither Zebulon or Saniyah had given recognition to the other's presence except the few exchanges regarding the ill patient. Zebulon, despite his occupation with Brock, had observed Saniyah in every detail. It pained him to see that she was thinner than when he had last seen her. Her complexion, usually creamy with a healthy tinge of pink on her cheeks, was now sallow, an effect not just brought about by the day's mischief. Her anguished eyes were like two large dark pools in her thin face. Her beautiful lips, usually of full colour, were pale, and they trembled. Inwardly he groaned at the damage he had caused.

As the night wore on they realised that there was little either could do other than offer comfort when needed. Their hearts weary and full of pain, they sat in silence, each reflecting on their own feelings. Saniyah watched the wizard from the shadows across the room. She wished she could know what his thoughts were, but he was as a closed book to her.

As the first soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, Saniyah walked to where Zebulon sat.

“When do you think Karm
e
n will arrive?” she asked softly.

“Not until later in the morning, for she would be unable to travel at night. But I know she will make haste.”

“Will he get better?”

“I am not a healer. I do not know. But he is young and strong and Kareem set upon him a protection spell. And he has the power from the pendant. I know without these things he would have been killed.”

“Why did you place him at such risk? He is so young.” As soon as these words were uttered, Saniyah regretted it. She noticed a muscle working in the wizards strong jaw, and his mouth formed a hard line. He remained silent for some minutes. She wished to reach out and touch him, but held back for fear of rejection.

“It was not meant to happen like that,” he said finally.

To her questioning look he added. “I should have realised his tender heart would not let him wait any longer for my signal, which he was supposed to do. The sign of your distress caused him to act prematurely.”

Saniyah wanted to ask him if he was touched by her pain, but she felt it wise to say no more and moved back to her position at the further end of the room. After all, he had come. She moved to the window and let the gentle breeze caress her face.

Zebulon watched as she moved away. He was pleased she had left, for her nearness drove him to distraction and his words seemed to stick in his throat, choking him. He drew his gaze from her and let it move around the once familiar room. On the wall opposite the bed, a large portrait of him, which she had painted in happier days, hung on the wall. At least she had left it there. But he observed grimly, the features could not be seen, for the image had turned so that only the back could be viewed. Saniyah had a particular magic which was part of her artistic skills. Her emotions affected how  her art was portrayed. It reflected her joy, sadness, or confusion. Her paintings remained always connected to her and mirrored her moods.

In her hands the colours became living things and some individuals could actually smell the fragrances from the flowers she painted. Brock would be able to smell the scents mused Zebulon. With the thought of the elf, he looked once more at the still form. Brock lay as if in death, his breath barely perceptible. He looked so young that the wizard felt pangs of guilt at the thought of what he had asked, really demanded of him. He had been a faithful little apprentice. He should have treated him better.

The couple's separate musing w
as
interrupted by the entrance of a servant announcing the arrival of Karm
e
n. She appeared immediately behind him, her bag in hand, and went directly to the elf's bedside.

Zebulon and Saniyah hovered beside her until she instructed them to move away. Another person entered the room and Zebulon was surprised to see Kareem there.

“How did you get here so quickly? I didn't expect you for hours.”

“Karm
e
n gave me one of her wonderful concoctions and I was able to transport us here. I believe I am in better shape than you.”

After completing her examination, Karm
e
n set about mixing a tincture. Having done that she placed a few drops of it under Brock's tongue.

“Is it bitter?” Zebulon asked.

“Yes, but I think that is the least of his worries for now.” She stood, medicine in hand, watching for a change in the elf's condition. The others gathered around to see. After some minutes had passed, a slight tinge of colour came into Brock's cheeks and his breathing became a little deeper. “I'll administer more in one hour.”

Karm
e
n now turned her attention to Zebulon. “You look terrible. I will mix you some tea and you can rest. There is nothing you need do for now.”

“No, I don't want any of your confounded teas,” Zebulon said testily. “They will make me sleep and I don't w
ish
to sleep.”

“I will give you one that will relax and refresh you.”

“Very well then!” He was too exhausted to really resist her.

While he drank the tea Karm
e
n went to Saniyah and wrapping comforting arms around her, led her to another room to sleep. “You will have some tea too?” she asked as they left.

When Karm
e
n returned after tending to Saniyah she found that Kareem had requested a servant bring light refreshments for them and that Zebulon was fast asleep in the big comfortable chair.

“I thought you said the tea wouldn't make him sleep.” Kareem smiled knowingly at her. “You tricked him.”

“I told him that it would relax him and refresh him. If sleep is what he needed to be refreshed then
so be it!
My tea simply facilitated
t
he inevitable. He'd be a really nice person if he wasn't so stubborn.”

Brock was in a dark pit. He felt a presence beside him and without seeing he knew it was M
u
stafa. The wizard said nothing but began pricking him all over his body. He felt fire burn at the site of the pricks and he felt a terrible fear. He thrashed about and his breathing became rapid. Strong arms held him and a vile potion was forced into his mouth. He thought he was being poisoned and he fought bravely.
A
voice he didn't recognise came into his mind.

“What's happening to him
? Wi
ll he die?” It was Saniyah who had just entered the room and saw the frightening drama.

“His body is fighting M
u
stafa's poison.” Karm
e
n had just finished giving him a dose of the bitter herbs.

Zebulon slowly relaxed his grip as he felt the young elf grow limp as the medicine took its healing effect.

Most of Karm
e
n's efforts and attention were taken up with caring for Brock but she fretted for Saniyah as the young woman seemed to be fading away in her private grief. She was concerned for Zebulon also for he appeared in another world, distant from everyone. Even Kareem was unable to penetrate the wall he had buil
t
around himself. Karm
e
n could not understand why he would not go to Saniyah and end both their doubts and agony of spirit. Kareem, who understood better, comforted her and explained that Zebulon was in the grip of a terrible remorse that would destroy or rebuild him. “The process he will go through must be done alone, for so is his temperament that he will not share his private agony with anyone. When he is ready he will seek relief from his torment and once more communicate with us.”

There were times when Brock's life was held in the balance, but gradually the shivering, the tremors and the pain began to subside. Karm
e
n had set him on a new course of treatment. This time it was a pleasant liquid that travelled down his throat and spread its soothing powers to every place that hurt, bringing him a sense of peace and safety. The dreams of M
u
stafa had gone and in their place he saw gardens with bright flowers and he could smell heavenly perfumes. Karm
e
n had encouraged Saniyah to bring flowers, which were known for their healing aromas, to the room. Knowing Brock, she reasoned that these would be particularly effective for him.

Over the following days, the two wom
e
n took walks in the garden and spoke of many things. Until now they had not known each other very well,  but their relationship quickly developed into one of deep friendship. Saniyah expressed her uncertainty about Zebulon to Kar
men
, and she, having known him most of her life was able to give Saniyah a greater understanding of the perplexities of his character, at least as far as one could express in words. Karm
e
n was pleased to see that these walks were bringing a healthier blush to the young woman's cheeks.

The gardens gave Saniyah some peace and she drank deeply of the visual beauty surrounding her. Karm
e
n's strong, compassionate character was the company she most needed at this time. Never had she felt so comfortable with another person.

“ I love Zebulon so much and yet I am unable to speak to him of how I feel. There seems to be a barrier that is too thick for either of us to penetrate.
Perhaps
we don't love each other enough. What should I do?”

Karm
e
n was silent for a time, then she said, “You need to be patient. Many strong emotions surround you. The terrifying experience with that evil Mustafa, the near death of our dear young elf, and the meeting of the two of you after so long. Zebulon is very passionate
and
he has a true and strong character. He will hold himself responsible for everything that has gone wrong. He will not give himself forgiveness easily.”

“But I forgave hi
m
long ago, I just want to tell him so. I want to comfort him, but always something stays my hand.”

“Give a little more time. Zebulon's temper is terrible but his love is stronger.”

“I could not live through this without your friendship. I am so thankful for that.”

Karm
e
n smiled and put her arm around Saniyah's shoulders, giving her a gentle hug.

Zebulon and Kareem took turns in watching over Brock while the ladies walked. The servants were good but not one of the four felt inclined to leave him to their charge, even for a short duration. Sometimes the two wizards would sit together and although there was little conversation,  Zebulon could feel the calm and the care
emitting
from Kareem, and he was grateful.

The day came when the friends could know with certainty that Brock would live. When he first opened his eyes to the consciousness of his surroundings he saw Saniyah and smiled.

“You are safe,” he whispered.

He remembered nothing of what had happened after he had freed her
,
other than nightmares and terrible pain, but gradually with the help of the others he began piecing some of the events together.

“I'm sorry,” he told Zebulon.

“What have you to be sorry for? You saved Saniyah's life.”

“I didn't wait for your signal.”

“It was a hard thing I asked of you. Be still now, and do not let these things concern you.”

With Brock out of danger,  Zebulon began taking long walks alone while the days took on a more relaxed and comfortable rhythm for the others. They were nevertheless distressed by Zebulon's lack of communication. Saniyah was distracted by his apparent lack of interest but the company of Kareem and Karm
e
n sustained her through the lonely hours. Karm
e
n suspected that at night many a tear dampened Saniyah's pillow but she said nothing other than to encourage Saniyah to return to her art and other occupations which gave her pleasure. Zebulon still spent time with Brock but the elf found the wizard's attentions too serious and lacking the humour he would have expected from him.

Zebulon, with the recovery of Brock, now allowed himself to answer to the inner burden of recrimination which had
been
growing stronger with each passing day. As he walked alone, his thoughts focused inward and he saw only blackness ahead. The wondrous surroundings did nothing to dispel the inner gloom and loneliness, and darkness engulfed him. 

After many days he began to feel he could bare the weight no longer. As he made his customary walk one evening he looked for a source which could ease his pain. He had come to a small stream and chose to settle beside it, hoping the sound of the water bouncing over the rocks would make soothing music for his troubled soul. It did not. The endless bubbling water simply seemed to mock him, to incite him to rage. He placed his hands over his ears to block out the sounds both of the water and his thoughts and fled from the spot. Saniyah was safe, but so sad. How could he hope to ever make her happy again
?
Brock would gain health and strength, not because of him, but rather owing his recovery to the goodness of others. All he had done was endanger the young life in his keeping. He had won victory over Mustafa but this only underlined the futility of his endeavours. In his torment he released cry after cry from the depths of his being. The sound came back to him as the anguished  bellows of a wounded beast. Dropping to his knees, he beat his fist upon the ground, causing sparks of brilliant white flames to leap from them. He felt as if his very soul was being dragged from him. Small creatures, in fear, ran from this fearsome encounter. Kareem, sitting in quiet meditation, felt the power and dared to hope that a victory was being won. Brock, lying in his bed, felt the disturbed energy, shivered with the memory of the battle with Mustafa, and thought it only the imaginings of his befuddled mind.