Tallander's Apprentice is my first published novel. More?

Brian Phillips Online

TALLANDER'S APPRENTICE

CHAPTER ONE: THE MAGE'S SERVANT

Tobin wasn't the sort who longed to go on wild quests in strange lands. Thoughts of such adventures scared him. He would have been content to spend rest of his life just like this, standing in his master's kitchen, elbow deep in a sink filled to the brim with steaming suds, never having any adventures at all. Perhaps he wouldn't have been exactly happy, but at least he would have been content.

The plates and glasses all done, he picked up the first of the pots and wondered which tool he should use to scrape off the layer of encrusted gunk at the bottom. Scrubbing brush? Knife? Chisel? 

Before he could make up his mind, Tobin heard someone pounding on the front door. He put the pot back into the sink. Let it soak, he thought.

The pounding repeated before he got to the door, this time to the tune of a raspy voice swearing loudly. "By the gods of boils and backsides, open up!"

Had he been anywhere else, such blatant anger would have frightened him, but here, in his master's home, he felt safe. Instead of opening the door as swiftly as possible, he paused to listen.

The raspy voice continued to swear. "Son of a maggot!" it said. "Fungus and filth! Why do I waste my time?"

Tobin smiled, enjoying the colourful language, but eventually the tirade died down and the banging stopped.

He waited for a handful of heartbeats, heard a more distant, "Pox!" then swung the door wide.

A small man was striding away as if he meant to walk through the gate without opening it. The man wore what looked like oversized mage's robes -- except for the colour. Tobin's master, like every other mage in the land, wore blue. As far as Tobin knew, no one wore purple.

"Can I help you?" Tobin called.

The man whirled. He glared from beneath heavy brows and stomped back up to the door. Tobin wasn't tall for his age, but he only had to look up very slightly when the man came close. The stranger was broader though, and looked much more powerful.

The man thrust out his chin so his nose almost touched Tobin's face. "If you were my servant, I'd have you flogged for tardiness. Do you know how long I've been standing here beating my knuckles bloody against your door?"

Tobin stepped backwards, but he was still in his master's home. Still safe. "I-I'm sorry," he said. "Master Tallander's house is quite large. Some-sometimes guests can stand here all day and nobody will notice."

The lines of bitterness that creased the skin between the small man's brows remained. His mouth continued to curve downwards at the corners.

Nervous now, Tobin stepped further back and gestured the man inside. "Come-come in. Make yourself comfortable. If you'll give me your name, I'll tell my master you're here."

"That's more like it," the man said, shouldering his way past. He chose a seat and put his feet up on a stool. Despite the day's warmth, he pulled his robes tight.

Tobin waited.

The man noticed and levelled a glare that could have split a rock. "Well? Go and get your master!"

"And, um, when I find him, who should I say is calling?"

"Lord Gothar, that's who." He said it as if it were the most important name in the land, as if Tobin should have known it already. "Now go, before I lose my patience."

Tobin nodded, bowed politely and left.

He found his master in the small garden that separated the house from the forest behind it, but didn't approach immediately. Gothar had unsettled him. Tobin didn't like being intimidated, so he waited for a while in the shade, happy enough to ignore their visitor's demands for haste.

Tallander stood amid a cloud of longtailed butterbirds.

More than a dozen of them buzzed about on invisible wings, darting down to drink from the shallow dish that Tobin's master held cupped in his hands, occasionally alighting on his narrow shoulders or the thinning hair at the top of his head. One of the birds, hovering in mid-air, latched onto a single long hair from Tallander's beard -- pure white and fragile, like all the rest -- and flew backwards, trying to carry its prize away. The ageing mage smiled. When the hair refused to come free, the bird gave up. It flew back to the dish and drank again.

Tallander played with the birds for another few minutes, letting them do what they wanted and chuckling at their antics. Then he turned the dish over and said, "That's it for the moment, my pretty friends. Fly away now, and come back in a day or two when I'll have more nectar for you."

The birds took him at his word, but they didn't go far. Many reached only the nearest branch or rooftop before landing, fluffing out their feathers and beginning to preen.

Tallander's staff stood within the old man's reach, upright even though it had no visible means of support. As soon as the mage touched it, the jewel mounted at the tip glowed a cheerful red.

"Now," he said, finally acknowledging Tobin. "You've come to tell me that you've finished the dishes?" His voice was warm and resonant despite his age.

"Um, no. Not yet. I'll do it later. You've got a visitor."

"Oh? Who?"

"He called himself 'Lord Gothar.'"

"Hmmm. I'm not sure I know him. Is he a lord of the land or a mage?"

"Um, I don't think he's either. He wears mage’s robes, but they don't fit him properly, and they're purple, not blue. Kind of worn and faded --"

"Purple? Are you sure?"

Tobin nodded, and Tallander frowned. "Nobody's worn purple for ages. Is he really old? Older than me?"

"No, younger. Middle aged."

"Hmmm. Can't be him, then." He shook his head and brightened again. "No, it can't be him. Did he tell you what he wanted?"

"Just told me to fetch you. He wasn't very nice about it either."

"Wasn't he? Curious." The old man seemed thoughtful. Then he laughed and said, "Well, there isn't much point in staying out here, is there? Let's go in and find out what he wants."

But when they reached the sitting room, Gothar wasn't there. Tallander turned to his servant and raised an eyebrow. Tobin shrugged, privately pleased. "Maybe he didn't want to wait."

"Maybe."

Gothar chose that moment to stalk in from the direction of the study. He stopped beside the potted tree in the doorway and scowled at Tobin, completely failing to see the old man. "There you are. Didn't I tell you to make it quick?"

Tobin flinched, but Tallander answered for him. "I'm afraid it's my fault he took so long. I was busy when he came to fetch me."

Gothar whirled. "Who in the name of the God of Hell -- uh -- f-forgive me, my lord," he stuttered, "I didn't mean to imply.... I mean, I didn't realise.... Umm -- "

Tallander dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. "Think nothing of it. I'm sure you're a very busy man, so why don't you sit yourself down and tell me why you're here."

Gothar's face turned the colour of blood. He glared hard at Tobin and flopped onto the indicated couch. "Begone," he commanded Tobin, as if he had a right to do so. "Get out of my sight."

Tobin started to move.

"No, Tobin, stay where you are," said Tallander.

Tobin stopped.

"What I have to say does not concern the boy. I don't want him around."

"Tobin is my servant. He does what I say, and would never break my trust. He will stay until I ask him to leave."

"And if I will not speak until he's gone?"

"Then I wish you a very good day, and bid you farewell."

Gothar said nothing. He shifted his glare briefly to Tobin, then let it settle again on Tallander. "All right. You give me no choice," he snarled. "I want your help."

Tobin didn't know what to think. He didn't like Gothar. The man scared him. And yet he didn't want to be sent away. He glanced at Tallander, grateful that the old man had told him to stay.

"What sort of help do you want?" Tallander asked.

"Knowledge."

"There are many kinds of knowledge, and whilst my library is extensive, it isn't all-inclusive. What did you have in mind?"

Gothar didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked at Tobin again, sneered as if he loathed the sight of him, grasped the front of his robes and said, "I want to know how to use this!" He pulled open his robes and flooded the room with pale pink light.

Tobin had seen enough of the magical gemstones that he wasn't impressed. Tallander, though, leaned forward, peered into the glowing light and muttered, "The Jewel of Jaegeron," just loud enough for Tobin to hear.

He blinked. Had he heard right? The Jewel of Jaegeron? Now he was impressed. No, not impressed. Anxious. Scared. Everyone had heard of Jaegeron, the Demon Master. A generation of mothers had used the name to scare their children into doing what they were told: 'If you don't go to bed right now, I'll get Lord Jaegeron to summon a demon to eat you all up!'

"Where did you get it?" Tallander looked uncharacteristically fierce.

"What does that matter? It's mine." Gothar pulled his robe back over the jewel and held it closed. "Well? Are you going to help or not?"

Tallander regarded him for a long moment before he answered. Tobin could feel the tension in the air. "No, I am not."

"What? What do you mean? Why not?"

"Why not? Because you aren't just seeking knowledge. You're seeking the kind of knowledge that could destroy everything we know. You want to master Jaegeron's Jewel. You want to summon demons. Of course I will not help you. If I could, I would shatter the Jewel around your neck and nobody would be able to summon any sort of demon ever again. Do you understand?"

Gothar's eyes narrowed, his complexion reddened even more and the muscles of his jaw bunched and loosened as if he were grinding his teeth. Tobin thought the man would explode in a rage, but when Tallander finished speaking, Gothar just snarled, "I understand," in reply.

"Good. Now, if you find yourself in possession of a less dangerous stone, come back and I will help you as much as I can. As for now, you will have to excuse me. There are some roses that require my attention. Tobin will see you to the door."

Gothar, though, didn't wait. Before Tobin could move, the false mage lurched out of his chair. When he reached the door, though, he spun and raged, "Don't think you've seen the last of me! I'll be back! And when I return, you'll be sorry you ever treated me like this! You'll be sorry!" He turned, swept through the door and slammed it hard as he left.

Tobin's fear faded immediately.

"Well," said Tallander. "It would seem I have to agree: he wasn't very nice."

#

Later that night, something broke the silence and jerked Tobin awake. He lay in his bed and stared up in the darkness. The noise soon repeated; a muffled bang followed by a curse. Tobin sat up, his heart thumping in his chest. He fumbled in the gloom for his flint sparker. He used it to light the lantern beside his bed and blinked in the sudden brightness.

Nervously, hesitantly, he climbed into his breeches and headed to Tallander's room. Before he arrived, he heard more curses. He also heard his master's voice raised in anger.

Tobin didn't know what to do. Fear made him tremble where he stood. His master might be in trouble, he thought. Even so, he hesitated for long seconds. Finally marshalling his courage, he ran down the stairs and through the lounge, skidding to a halt at the entrance to the study.

He found his master, dressed in a nightshirt, cap and slippers, leaning on his glowing staff and sifting through a scattered pile of parchments. He acknowledged Tobin without turning around. "It's too late. The thief has already gone."

Tobin surveyed the mess. About half of the shelves were empty. Books lay strewn about, some damaged and torn. Broken glass lay on the desk. Smaller shards glittered in the carpet. One of the windows had been shattered. A man could climb through there, he thought, his heart still pounding fiercely. If the man was small enough. "Thief?" he asked. He couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to steal from his master.

Tallander stood. "Our friend Gothar. I heard the window break and came down to see what had happened. I found him with a lantern, halfway through the shelves. I haven't checked everything, but the most obvious lack is a treatise by Jaegeron on the summoning of demons."

"Is that bad?"

"It's bad enough. Fortunately, he didn't find Jaegeron's more advanced works. I keep those tucked away in my room."

Tobin nodded, then asked the question that had been bothering him all afternoon. "Why didn't you take the jewel away from him?"

"I would like to say that it's because I didn't want to judge him before he committed a crime. That would be like burning your neighbour's house to prevent him from doing the same to you. But I’d already judged him when I refused his request. No, the real reason is that Jaegeron's Jewel gives the wearer a kind of invulnerability. As soon as our friend put on the jewel, a powerful field wrapped him from head to foot, and that field keeps him from harm. I doubt that I could have removed it even if I'd tried."

"There's no way to get through the field?"

"None that I know of."

Again Tobin nodded. "S-so what will you do?"

"There's not much I can do. I'll tell the guards in town. They’ll arrest him if they find him. Other than that, we can hope his talents are ill-suited to demon sorcery, and we can warn the other magi to keep alert." The old man looked at the broken window and shrugged. "We can also make sure, if he returns, he won't gain entry so easily." So saying, he raised his staff and muttered a series of arcane words that raised both the hair on the back of Tobin's neck and the broken glass from the desk and floor.

The glass flew to the frame and fitted itself together so perfectly that it looked as if it had never been broken. Something about its reflection told Tobin that it wasn't really glass any more, but something much, much stronger. Gothar wouldn’t gain entry this way again.

Tallander stopped muttering, lowered his staff and nodded to himself. "I guess that's the best I can do. We can leave this mess until morning."

So ends Chapter One. To read Chapter Two, you’ll have to click on the cover and buy a copy from Double Dragon Books.

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I live and work in New Zealand, which is on the opposite side of the world from just about everywhere else. More?