The Seeker’s Apprentice (Chapter 5): Unfamiliar Ground
“Man is still an ape in that he forgets what is not ever before his eyes.” - Robert E. Howard
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Previously on The Seeker’s Apprentice:
As their journey continues, Nadira presses Jorund too hard about his past, igniting a fury and pain she didn’t expect. And though they repair the fault, Nadira can’t help but see him in a different light.
Finally reaching the training center, the warmth is all too soon pushed aside as a new threat looms. And she gets her first glimpse into the life she has chosen.
Chapter 5: Unfamiliar Ground
The screeching tore through the basin, without precision, a glaring rip into whatever peace may have settled there.
Nadira’s ears were ringing with the sound, angry, a beastly yell. Jorund’s eyes darted around the darkness, his free hand coming up to unsheath his sword, still tugging on her hand, bringing her around the wall in a hurry. The iron gate was already ajar, an older man standing at its side, the hint of a grin on his face, a broadsword in his grasp as well.
“Cutting it a little close, my friend,” the man said, ushering them inside before pushing the gate closed again.
Just then, a swoosh came overhead, the rush of wind underneath wing thrust down upon them. Jorund didn’t stop to contemplate it, merely continued his hurried pace through the large wooden doors of the castle, not even halting his steps until they were inside and the door was shut.
Only then did he end his race and breathe. Nadira felt in such a tizzy, hurried along with his force, she nearly fell over when he stopped.
Unlike him, her breath had been quickened so much she had to bend to catch it again.
“What exactly was that?”
“Shhh,” Jorund hissed.
All of their eyes stayed drawn to the noise outside, the intensity holding steady, swords erect. Once she was able to come upright, Nadira unseated her daggers, her heart racing.
The shrieking continued, growing louder, though muffled slightly through the stone walls. All had gone still in the hall, waiting, every breath measured. After a few tense moments, it began to fade, the weight in the air lessening.
Jorund finally lowered his blade, returning it to its sleeve and relaxing his stance. Everyone else followed suit, an ease finally cresting upon them.
The old man laughed, “Well, my friend, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” he said, each entangling their arms in a hearty greeting.
He was taller than Jorund, more broad and muscular, despite his more aged appearance. His long black hair and beard were streaked with wide swaths of grey, his hair kept tightly bound together behind his back. His tan tunic sat tucked neatly in his umber trousers, orderly. His sleeves rolled almost to his elbows, she could see deep scars etched across each of his arms.
Looking past Jorund to Nadira, his eyes lightened, his smile widening, reseating his sword on his hip.
“Well, well,” he began, approaching her in a carefully controlled step, lifting her hand to his lips, “Who might this fair maiden be?”
Nadira snagged her hand back, making him chuckle. “Fiesty.”
“Nadira,” Jorund chided.
“No, it’s all right,” the man replied, not taking his eyes off her.
“Macinal Trelon. But you may call me Mack.”
“Macinal?”
“Aye. My mother’s idea, God rest her soul. Said the name came to her in a dream. My father didn’t have the heart to change it after she died.”
“So you are Jorund’s new apprentice.” He straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode in a wide circle around her. “Well, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I never expected this.”
“What? A human,” she sneered, mocking.
“A woman,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
“What, a bit short on women seekers, then?”
His expression hardened some, “Women don’t often hear the call. Too much noise going on in that head of yours.”
“She’s good, Mack,” Jorund chimed, “I’ve seen her. She heard a Lalpat living in the caves.”
“A Lalpat, eh? Now that’s promising. How are you with a blade, girl?”
In one motion, she pulled her dagger coming at him with such ferocity, she forced him back against a table, her blade nicking his lip.
He took a finger to his lip, smoothing out the fresh coat of blood between his fingers. “Impressive.”
Before she could revel in her victory, however, he took hold of her hand, twisting it around until he had her by the arm, dagger clattering to the stone floor. She writhed heavily against his stronghold, his voice at her ear.
“Your blade may do fair work, but your ego will be your downfall. You have much to learn, girl. A place here isn’t given freely. It must be earned. Earned by blood. Do you understand what that means?”
“Let me go,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“I asked you a question. Do you really believe you have what it takes to be one of us? To live the life of a monster seeker?”
“Jorund seems to think so.”
“Does he? Well, I didn’t ask what Jorund thinks. I wish to know what you believe.”
“Yes,” she muttered.
“What was that?” He wrenched her arm further and she bent up, her face wincing in pain.
“Mack, please,” Jorund pleaded.
“Yes!”
“There it is.”
Mack released his hold, throwing her balance off enough she collapsed to the floor. He walked past her toward a corridor off to the side of the room. “You start tomorrow. Jorund, I expect you’ll have her ready for the trials?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.”
As Mack left them alone, Jorund tried to help her up but she sloughed him off again, pushing herself to her feet, rubbing her arm.
“He’s charming.”
“He is the best of us. You’ll never meet a finer trainer. He knows this life better than most. Come on, we have a long day ahead. You need your rest.”
“Hang on. You still haven’t told me what the hell those things were out there.”
“A Tyvilern.”
“A what?”
“Tyvilern. Wings made of flesh, they live deep within the mountain, swarming out of their cavern only when the night has fallen and the moon has veiled itself from the world. Their grey skin is slimy, like that of a frog. While they have no eyes to speak of, their hearing would far outmatch any of us. Even my elf ears are no comparison. The bigger ones are no larger than a wolf but they are fierce, they are fast, and very dangerous.”
“Hmm, they don’t sound that dangerous.”
“They have an entire mouth full of razor sharp teeth that would say otherwise. I’ve seen them tear a beast three times their size to pieces, raining down flesh upon the land until the grass was soaked with blood. Their veracity never ceases. And they outnumber us a hundred to one.”
“Oh.”
He chuckled, “Do not worry. We are safe within these walls. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”
“You mean I won’t be staying with you? Hmm, pity,” she smirked, replacing her blade and strolling past him to the hallway entrance.
He grinned, shaking his head before taking a place next to her. As the two made their way down the corridor, Nadira took note of the castle interior. It seemed smaller on the inside, less foreboding and prominent. The floor was lined with a bright red carpet, frayed around the edges, some of the fabric thinning and color dulled with time.
Every few paces sat a torch against the wall, enough to give the corridor plenty of firelight. The smell would be something to get used to, her nose turned up by it.
“The swamp water,” Jorund commented when he noticed her expression.
Nadira wasn’t entirely convinced. She had long since smelled swamp water, making a trek almost weekly through the bogs back home. This was far fouler. Of rotting flesh and death. But she didn’t press it. She could sense Jorund was keeping it from her, but she didn’t have the strength nor the will to fight that battle right now.
“How many of you are there?”
“Here? Twelve in all. Thirteen counting yourself. Mack is an elder. Only four of our kind hold that title. Entrusted only to the wisest and most noble of seekers. Our entire training center is under his commission. Something you would do well to remember.”
“Yes well, I am not used to following orders.”
“Look, Mack is the one that trained me. When I say he’s the best, I mean it. Here we are.”
He had stopped his pace just outside an unassuming wooden door, leaning himself against an outstretched arm, a warm grin on his face. Turning the metal handle over, the door opened and Nadira walked inside.
The room was small, only a single bed, a side table and chair to speak of. The warmth of the fireplace radiated through her, a gentle reminder she still wore his jacket.
“Oh,” she began, removing herself from the sleeves to hold it out for him, “Thank you.”
He smiled, his hand brushing hers ever so slightly when he grasped the neck. Enough for Nadira to get the feeling it wasn’t by mistake.
He perked up, tossing her an apple, “Get some rest, training begins bright and early.”
“Wait, you haven’t told me what time.”
“Trust me,” he said, stooping to take a small bite out of the apple in her hand, his expression playful, “you will know.”
Mouth agape is how he left her, striding around the corner before she could raise any more objections.
Though her body was weary, her mind had filled with so much over the course of the day, it wouldn’t let her rest. With the last bit of the apple gone, she stretched out over the bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the flickering flames as they danced their delicate choreography of light and shadow. The screeching still echoed in the distance, barely heard over the crackling fire. Still, it was enough to remind her of an uncomfortable thought. She did indeed have much to learn.
The story continues…
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