The Seeker’s Apprentice (Chapter 7): Greenhorn

“He that can have patience, can have what he will.” -Benjamin Franklin

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

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Previously on The Seeker’s Apprentice:

After a restless first night, Nadira finally gets the chance to meet some of the other seekers over breakfast. Seeing Jorund in his element, she can’t help but feel a bit of envy, a difficult reminder of her desire to belong beginning to seep in. Not to mention, there is that little matter of their still unspoken attraction. Which seems to be growing more and more distracting by the day.

But all that must be pushed aside. Today, her training begins.

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Chapter 7: Greenhorn

Stepping out of the hall, Nadira was met with a full and brilliant ray of sunshine. The clouds had abated and the hour had stretched late enough for it to stuff itself into every nook and cranny of the basin.

Looking ahead at Jorund, he seemed to take in every beam, not idling by, but not rushing either. He walked with a sort of determined reverence, hands clasped behind his back, feet crunching on the small branches and grass underneath.

His hair was as dark as a raven’s wing but in the light, there were new shades scattered about the strands Nadira had not noticed before, as though fire lay woven within them as well.

Suddenly, their silence was broken, only this time, it was not her voice, it was his. “You’re staring again, I can feel it. Is there some question you would like to ask?”

She could feel her cheeks flush as they kept walking, Jorund slowing his stride in order for her to catch up.

“How long have you been an Ex-the–”

“An Ekzeteo?” He chuckled.

“You really ought to come up with a different term.”

“Yes, well, try breaking someone like Mack out of thousands of years of tradition.”

“Perhaps someone should.”

“Oh, really? Would you like to do the honors, then?”

She smiled, nudging him playfully with her elbow as they broke into the tree line, Jorund taking a small step ahead to lead the way.

“I was twelve when Mack brought me here–”

“Here?”

“Yes. Harstover Castle has been my home for just over three decades now.”

“Three decades? Wait. How old are you exactly?”

He thought for a moment, “I suppose I would be about forty-seven in your years.”

“Forty-seven?”

“You seem surprised. I’m half elf, remember? Long lives and such. How much exactly do you know about elves?”

“Not much apparently.”

“Ah, here we are,” He said, stopping short just beyond the tree line by the lake.

The shoreline spread wide before her, the tan colored sand spanning at least fifteen feet or so from the edge of the water to the forest.

The water wasn’t at all what Nadira expected from her brief view last night. In the night it only appeared as a dark hole, ready to swallow up whatever may stray into its path. In the light, however, the sunshine spooning into every cerulean ripple, it stood an ethereal plane unlike anything she had ever seen before.

As she came closer to the water line, mesmerized by the magical dance before her, boots plodding into the sand the further she went, Jorund stopped her short, an arm across her belly. Gentle, but firm. Protective.

“I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

Jolted out of her trance, she stumbled a bit. As she opened her mouth to ask the question now burning into her mind, an odd noise startled the serene atmosphere. Not a shriek, but a song.

One voice at first, echoing faintly with the wind. Soon it was joined by many more, a harmony of music ladling in through her ears so softly she found herself holding her breath just to listen.

“Beautiful,” she muttered.

The sound flowed out all around them, as though woven through the air like strands of silk, the quiet lull of the water a perfect accompaniment. She began to feel a strange stirring within her, a strong desire she couldn’t explain, pushing her toward the shore. Still, Jorund’s block held.

“Enticing, is it not?”

“What is it?”

“The song of the Caela.”

“The what?”

Just then, there was the briefest of disturbances on the water’s surface, a glint of light reflecting off something iridescent. It disappeared too fast for her to see it clearly enough, although, if it were a fish, it would dwarf even a shark in size. She was sure of it.

“The Caela are masterful hunters, singing their songs as a lure, their eyes a trap.”

Nadira turned to him, “A siren?”

“Yes, some might call them that.”

“Well that’s simple, don’t listen to their song,” she scoffed.

“Ah, but it is not always that easy. Come too close to their sight, and they will snare you with their magic, compelling you to join them under the waves. There, they will feast on your flesh, until only the bones are left, licked clean by their barbed tongues.”

She made a face, “Well, that’s an image.”

“Even more frightening in person, I assure you. Here, put these on.”

Reaching into a small side pocket on his jacket, he produced two pairs of very peculiar glasses, each with lenses coated a light shade of violet. Nadira looked them over with her usual bold skepticism.

“What are these for?”

“They protect your eyes from their spells. Go ahead, put them on.”

“I thought the point was not to provoke them.”

“Yes, well, under normal circumstances, no.”

“Then what do we need these for? Jorund, what exactly are we doing?”

“Not we,” he said, retreating to the edge of the tree line and making himself comfortable in the sand, leaning back against a nearby palm. “You. You are going to try and catch one. Consider it your first official assignment as my apprentice.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard,” he said, grinning as he interlaced his fingers behind his head.

“You just said they will devour me if they pull me under.”

“Then don’t let them pull you under.”

“Wait. Why are we going through the hassle of capturing them? Why not just kill them?”

“You can’t.”

“What?”

“Their powers of regeneration are too swift and far too strong.”

“So, what, they're immortal?”

“Something like that.”

“And just how exactly am I supposed to catch one?”

“Here, you will need these as well.” He handed her a thick pair of oversized riding gloves. “Their tails have razor sharp fins all down their spine. Try not to get sliced in half.” He couldn’t even say it with a straight face. Nadira was not amused.

“And what exactly do I do with it once I catch it?”

“Throw it back before it guts you with its talons.”

“I’m sorry, throw it back?”

“That’s what I said. We have no use for it.”

“Then why do any of this in the first place?”

“It’s a test.”

“There must be an easier way to test my abilities.”

“Who said anything about testing your abilities?”

“Is that not why I’m here?”

He sat up, bending a knee, a sigh upon his lips, “Nadira, the life of an Ekzeteo isn’t easy. You will need more than just your abilities with a blade. First and foremost, you will need strength. And I don’t speak purely of the physical type either. Battling a beast can be taxing on your body and your mind, sometimes requiring the utmost of patience and diligence.”

“Are you saying I’m not patient?”

He laughed, “Not in the least. That’s why we practice.”

She sighed heavily, “Fine. How exactly do I catch one, oh mighty mentor?” She snarked. His lips flattened, giving her a look.

“First, you wade out into the water. No more than knee deep or your sound footing will be lost. Shuffle your feet until they sink up to your calves into the sand. This will give you the firm ground you need. They will try and yank on your legs, but with the water that shallow, they will have a hard time doing so. As long as you keep your stance wide, knees bent, you should be fine.”

“Then what?”

“Bend over, keeping your hands just above the water’s surface. This next part will test your patience. You must wait for just the right time. Too soon, and you won’t be able to hold. Too late, and they will slip through your fingers.

As they glide past, get a firm grip on the end of their tail where the main muscle branches out into their fin. It should be thin enough to wrap both hands around. And you will need both hands for this.

As soon as you get your grip tight, you pull as hard as you can. The smaller ones are fairly light so, provided you can catch one, you should be able to get it out of the water with ease.”

“And what do I do with it then?”

“It can not survive outside of the water. At least, not for long. Eventually, it will go limp, but not without putting up one hell of a fight before hand. Keep your grip strong around it's tail until it does. Then, very carefully run your hand along the length of it’s tail to gain your prize.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“A scale. They shed scales like birds do feathers.”

“If that’s what we’re after then—“

“If you’re thinking of cheating by looking for a scale already shed, you won’t find it. They’re too good a feast for the other creatures in the lake. When you've got the scale, let go and it will worm it's way back into the water. Be certain to give it a wide berth, otherwise you might get wholloped.”

He leaned himself back against the tree. “Hop to it now. We haven’t got all day. They’ll start to get hungry and believe me, you do not want to be anywhere near the water during a hunger frenzy.”

“Why don’t you help me then? Speed this along?”

“Now that would be cheating. Each one of us had to do it, Nadira. It’s tradition. Besides, there’s only been one death that I can recall. You’re quite all right.”

“Thanks,” she snided.

“What? Look, I have complete faith in your abilities. Maybe not your patience, but we shall see. And I promise you if you are in real danger, I will not just let you die. Wouldn’t look very good on me anyway.”

Taking another heavy breath, she turned her attention toward the water line, “I’m sure,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

With the newly formed silence between them, the haunting music soon returned, sliding with ease through her ears, that same strange compulsion growing within her once more.

She gave her gloves a tug, strengthened her posture, and took her first steps into the water.

Continued in Chapter 8 (Coming soon!)

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