The Other Apprentice

0 | Prologue

Madrigal looked out upon the vast battlefield. Every soldier, archer, scout and creature stood frozen in time and place, posed to strike yet unable to move until the mage decided on his next course of action.

The army of the Dusklord had taken losses, though fearsome bands of tactically arranged assassins and darkhounds still dotted the geometric plains. Their mighty ashdrake loomed above them, smoky wings spread wide, menacing even in its stillness. One wrong decision from the wizard would lead to the doom of the brave men and women fighting under the Empire's banner.

It was an oft-fought battle, destined to be repeated following strict rules acknowledged by both sides. Though the battle had been re-fought for centuries, the strategy and the outcome routinely varied. The old mage was determined that his army would not suffer defeat this day.

"Your move, wizard."

The voice of his deadly opponent carrying from the other side brought Madrigal out of his reverie. He looked up from the polished game pieces' placement on the hexat board and grumbled. "Yes, yes, I'm thinking. Give me time!" He took a long draw from his mahogany pipe as he shot his opponent a dirty look, which Valryk ignored.

As he let the smoke curl out of the corner of his lips, Madrigal considered the soldier seated across the table from him in the small, cluttered parlor. Valryk wasn't smiling or gloating, his chiseled face betraying no more hint of emotion than it ever did. In the decades he had been watching the man's face across the game table, Madrigal was unconvinced that Valryk even had emotions. It frustrated the wizard. If there was a time to gloat or show a smug smirk, this was it. Valryk was always a formidable hexat player, but he had crafted a devious trap this time. Well, the match wasn't over yet. Madrigal reached across the board and took hold of the battlecaster figure.

"Against with the caster? Predictable." While varying pieces made up the composition of the two armies, each contained a single figure that granted its side the use of one of six powerful hexcards, only usable immediately after taking control of a nexus space. As usual, Valryk still had all six of his hexcards unused.

Madrigal slid the battlecaster along the board, nearly to the azure gem that marked the nearest nexus. "It is the most powerful piece in the game, old friend."

Much to Madrigal's amusement, this nearly brought a scowl to Valryk's lips. "Not so. The caster cheats the rules of the game, but it is still vulnerable." To emphasize his point, the soldier took hold of the mighty ashdrake and placed it firmly between the battlecaster and the gem. "And I serve as an'zai. I am not your friend."

Madrigal chuckled in response. "You are the closest I have known to a friend in over a century, Valryk. There are few remaining in this world that I can trust. You are the only one with whom I trust my life."

Valryk gave Madrigal a dark look as he unraveled the hidden meaning in the mage's words. "Wry, but truly spoken. I will never falter in my service, but if you mistake that for affinity, then you truly are a friendless wretch."

"A reputation I have earned as truly as I have earned anything in this life." Madrigal spoke softly. Valryk made no attempt at correcting the mage's self-assessment, nor did Madrigal expect him to. A long silence passed as both players studied the board. Blocked from taking control of the nexus by the ashdrake, the caster's only sensible act would be to retreat. If he stayed in place, the caster would find itself quickly overpowered, and its loss would prevent Madrigal use of his three remaining hexcards.

"You are stalling, wizard." Valryk said sternly. "The Caster soon meets his demise."

Madrigal chuckled even louder this time. "Are you referring to the hexat game, old friend? Or to me?"

Valryk furrowed his eyebrows. "Today? The game. And I am not your—" A small furry form scampering noisily up the trellis cut off the rest of the soldier's rebuke, launching itself through the open window into the study. The pudgy weasel-like creature landed clumsily before careening into a small pile of books and toppling them over. Nonplussed, the small creature turned itself 180 degrees and ran full-bore to the game table, before executing three quarters of a circle counterclockwise around Madrigal's chair and climbing the wizard's leg, chittering loudly.

"Stars above, Widdershanks! What has got you so excited?" Madrigal stroked the creature's long striped body attempting to calm him, yet Widdershanks squirmed free before leaping up on the side of the wizard's chair in order to perch on his shoulder, pressing his whiskered muzzle directly to his master's ear before chittering again.

"Oho! This is interesting news!" Madrigal exclaimed in response to the creature's counsel. "What do you think we should do, Widdershanks?" The curious creature chittered loudly in response, as his tail end began sliding awkwardly off of the wizard's shoulder, resulting in an awkward plop down into Madrigal's lap.

Madrigal reached into a pocket in his robe, extracting a small morsel of red cheese, holding it out to Widdershanks, who greedily devoured it. "I thank you for your wise counsel, as always, Widdershanks." The fat ferret ignored the compliment, focusing more on his tasty treat. Madrigal resumed stroking the creature's fur as he turned his attention to Valryk. "The annual coach from Lytgard has arrived this evening in Stillbrook."

Valryk arched an eyebrow. "And why should this alarm your pet so? Lytgard sends you a candidate for apprenticeship every harvest. Just as Seven Dales sends one every midsummer and Evenhuld sends one every thaw. And every thaw, midsummer and harvest you turn their best away. There is nothing unusual about this news."

"Ah, but it seems this time there is. Widdershanks says the coach has brought us not one candidate from Lytgard, but two."

The soldier gave a shrug of his shoulders, dismissing the news. "They seek to double their chances. Perhaps they show intelligence after all."

"Intelligence! Pah! Desperation, more likely!" Madrigal spat as he rose from his seat, depositing Widdershanks on the floor. The wizard paced the room. "They know my time grows short. I must name an apprentice soon, and the warmongers running that kingdom want to ensure its one of theirs. All they know is politics, and when politics enters the fray, intelligence flees for the hills. It's been over forty years since the last time any of the broken kingdoms sent me anyone who exhibited true intelligence, and you know firsthand how badly that ended! In the meantime, all they send me are useless Minah birds, trained to recite little tidbits of information and do pretty tricks. The day any of them sends me a candidate that can truly think for him or herself and not just regurgitate facts on command, I swear I will hike up my robes and dance a merry jig on the spot!" Finishing his tirade, the wizard returned to his chair and slammed down, fuming.

A long moment of silence passed between the two seated at the table until finally Valryk spoke. "Your move, wizard."

Alerted to the reality of the unfinished match, Madrigal once again took assessment of the board. "Ah yes. The hexat game. You were wrong, you know."

Valryk answered calmly, unperturbed. "About what was I wrong?" Madrigal silently wished for the umpteenth time that the soldier was easier to perturb.

"You were wrong about the caster. You think it's because he cheats the rules that I see him as the most powerful piece, but that's not the reason." Ignoring the threatened battlecaster, Madrigal instead moved the warmaiden from her position protecting the empress to the rose gemstone on the other side of the board, a move made possible only by the repositioning of the ashdrake. Claiming the nexus, Madrigal revealed one of his hexcards to be the rune of disguise. Swapping the positions of the warmaiden and the huntmaster left Valryk's Dusklord exposed to the superior range of the huntmaster's bow.

"The true power of the Caster," Madrigal continued, "is that everyone watches him to observe what will happen next." The wizard reached across the board and laid the Dusklord on his side, indicative of victory. "And in doing so, they often fail to notice when it happens."