The Renascent Apprentice

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The Renascent Apprentice

Avery was already breathing heavily as she stormed down the path, each footstep carrying her desperately along the laid cobblestone. Panicked, the young Initiate had overslept and was late on the worst possible day. She should have been there a half hour ago, preparing her mount for the final examination.

Quick as the wind she curved toward the village, finding the normally busy streets empty, though she wasn’t surprised at all. Examination Day always produced quite the spectacle. Still, Avery dodged past lonely stacked bags of grain and slipped between sorted barrels, charging through the alley she knew was a shortcut to the proving grounds. Finally, she reached the limits of the preserve and raced toward the massive stables, clearing the paired doors in a huff.

“You're late!” Stable Master Forlis declared. The other riders were already escorting their mounts through the egress on the far side.

“Sorry,” she replied between breaths, quickly grabbing her saddle and hefting it atop her shoulders.

“Avery, if you’re ever to be a Defender of Alveron you’re going to have to work on personal responsibility.”

The girl sighed. Of course, Forlis was right but she’d been up practicing too late…memorizing every turn, every obstacle, every hazard. “I know,” she lamented.

Master Forlis was not without empathy, however, and took the girl’s hand. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “You’re destined to be the greatest of all Defenders…a true Champion.” Thankfully, a kind smile was enough for her and he turned to join the students. “Now go out there and show them how it’s done,” he added as he strolled away.

“Gotcha,” Avery replied, truly appreciating the compliment and confidence from one of her favorite instructors. Dropping the saddle into the dust, she gripped the stall door with both hands and slid it wide to meet her best friend in the world, the Highland Glider she’d named Aileron. They were bonded years ago and the beast understood the girl better than any human ever would. “Hi, girl!” she exclaimed and Aileron stooped to nuzzle her warmly.

Unlike most other dragons, a Swiftpeak Drifter or Juggernaught Wraith for example, Aileron was slender and long in tail, built for speed and not necessarily combat. She had broad wings and a narrow sloping head that cut the wind like a knife. In a rush, Avery hefted her saddle atop the creature and escorted her outside.

It seemed the entire village had gathered, and well they should, for the Pinnacle Race was the ultimate derby…a final examination for the Defender Initiates. Streamers drifted on steady breezes that wafted up from steeply sloping chasms and through broadly cut canyons. The course was a challenge to be sure, with its lofty heights, sharp curves, blind turns, and other hidden perils. Final duty assignment was based not only on ranking but ability and Avery was determined to serve at the palace, defending the King. She just reached the line when Forlis called out from atop his own massive beast of a Harlequin Speckleback, “Riders at your ready!”

Dragons shifted anxiously then drew to attention with immediately keen focus on the course ahead. Silence gripped the crowd and Avery settled her mind, remembering every turn, every potential obstacle. Then, the Speckleback let out a mighty roar and they were off.

Soaring through the sky at lightening speed was a thrill for the girl. It seemed so natural and so right. Avery connected with Aileron in a way that was more than just the owner of a mere animal. The two were bound together, each reacting to each other and reading the course with uncanny instinct. Quickly, they cleared the first sharp turn and pulled away from the pack. The next obstacle was a tight glacial tunnel carved deep into the ice by a flowing river. The air immediately chilled as they breached the rim and shot through the azure tunnel, blasting into the sky on the far side.

Banking sideways, they cleared a narrow crevice in the canyon wall before drifting up over the ridge and into the valley on the far side. There, they were met by a sight she didn’t expect and couldn’t have predicted. A flock of terrifying, feral dragons, untamed and vicious in nature, had entered the course.

Instantly, the monsters tore into the riders and their proud mounts. As recruits, they were outmatched and sorely outnumbered. The beasts ripped and clawed and spit fire, a contest of raptors that scorched the heavens. Colossal serpents grappled and shredded each other, tumbling and soaring, then falling. Aileron did her best to evade, to keep her rider safe but, in the end, the racers were no match for the terrifying horde and she was tossed from her harness. As the young rider plummeted helplessly away, horror gripped her soul, but not from the fall. Aileron was dead and darkness suddenly consumed her.


II

She awoke from a terrifying nightmare she was convinced couldn’t be real. After all, how could her majestic and powerful dragon, her friend, possibly be defeated? How could she fall away? Still, the image in her brain was too convincing…too tangible. “Ah. You’re finally awake,” someone noted and she tried to sit up but was unable, her body frozen and wracked with pain.

Panicked, Avery asked, “Where am I?”

“The answer to your question is simple, my dear,” the voice replied. “You are here, of course!”

She tried to move again but found herself restrained by more than just the limitation of agonizing discomfort. Finally, her eyes were able to focus. She was in a small cottage, lying in a simple bed with the shutters drawn. Against the wall, a single figure rested back in his chair, smoking a long pipe and blowing rings into the air. “Who are you?” she asked. “And why can’t I move?”

“My name is Verilon and, as for your second question,” he answered, “You’ve sustained quite an injury, my dear. For all accounts, you should be dead.”

“Well I’m not,” she replied. “So, why am I bound? I can’t move.”

He suddenly became more sullen. “I’m sorry to say that you’re not bound at all. Your immobility is the result of your injuries, I’m afraid.”

“Injuries? What happened?”

“You fell,” he explained, solemnly. “From heights so great that you and I shouldn’t be talking right now.”

“I…I remember. The Ferals.”

“Yes,” he replied and took a long drag from his pipe. “What else do you remember?”

“We were ambushed. There were too many. I…I,” she replied then remembered, “Aileron!”

“I am sorry my dear.”

Avery began to weep and, in her desperation, found enough strength and determination in her left arm, despite the weakness and agony, to wipe the tears from her eyes. “She was my friend.”

“I know.”

“So, what now?” the girl asked between sobs. “What do you want of me?”

“Me?” he replied. “Nothing! It’s more about what I may be able to offer you.”

“Can you fix me? Can you take away the pain?”

“No,” he said plainly. “Sadly, your injuries are extensive. There’s just too much damage. It’s only a matter of time before you succumb to your internal wounds. Even the greatest healers can’t help you. Your spine is broken and I suspect that you have hidden bleeding that would even escape the trained eye.”

She groaned as terrible stabbing gripped her. Finally, she asked, “So, why bring me here?”

“Well, to put it simply, you’re a curious one.”

“Are you here to gawk at me?” she demanded. “Have you come to watch me die in agony?”

“Ha!” he responded and shook his head. “I’ve come to see if you’re worthy.”

“Worthy of what?”

“My dear, you shouldn’t have endured your fall. Moreover, you’re the only one to survive your meeting in the valley…and I mean the only one. Not a single rider or beast, feral or otherwise, survived. All were decimated in a furious, fiery blast…all except you. Still, I watched you drop from the sky and I found you. Broken and dying, I brought you here, to my humble home.”

“Why?”

“I suppose I should elaborate on my answer to your first question,” he explained. “You wondered who I am. Some in the land know me as the Mystic of the Mountains. To others, the Wandering Shadow. I prefer The Landsman, to be honest.”

“The wizard?” she doubted, for she'd heard the legends. “You don’t look much like one.”

“And what exactly is a wizard supposed to looked like?” he wondered.

“You know, a long gray beard…pointy hat,” she managed.

He ran his fingertips along his finely kept goatee. “Are you disappointed?”

She chuckled then flinched at the pain. “No. So, what do you want?”

“It’s been nearly a millennium since I’ve met another wielder,” he said.

“A magic user? Boy have you got the wrong girl!” she replied.

“It’s the only explanation for how you survived a fall from a thousand feet…of how the others were completely destroyed. Only a tremendously powerful wielder could defeat an entire dragon horde.”

“Impossible,” she rejected. “I’m just a rider…an Initiate. Well, I was.”

“I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have my own doubts,” Verilon explained. “It’s been so long, I’d almost given up hope.”

Avery sighed despondently. “I think you need to leave. Let me die in peace,” she requested.

“Aren’t you even curious?”

“Even if I was, what difference would it make? My body is broken and so is my heart. I’ve nothing to look forward to but a slow agonizing death,” she lamented.

“Maybe not,” he corrected. “If you are a sorceress of some sort, there may be hope.”

Feigning disinterest, she asked, “How?”

“A simple test...the Thunderbird Phylactery. Only a magic user dare touch it. It can heal the deepest wounds and restore vitality to the most broken of wielders.” He produced the treasure and held it in his covered palm. “You need only touch it.”

“What will happen?”

“If you’re a mere mortal, it will destroy you for sure.” She grimaced but he continued, “If you’re a magic user, however, you’ll be reborn.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Terribly. In both outcomes, I’m afraid,” Verilon admitted.

Considering her present circumstances, her body broken and wracked with paralysis and pain, it didn’t take her long to decide and she grasped for it weakly. Verilon brought it closer and she clumsily made contact. Immediately, her feet felt like they were on fire. Avery wailed in agony as the tips of her fingers and toes burst into flames and began smoldering away. Fire crept up her limbs and consumed her body. While the injuries sustained in her fall were horrible to be sure, it paled in comparison to being consumed by a fiery blaze, burned alive. She writhed and screamed before succumbing to death, her body turning to ash then dissolving cleanly away.

Verilon was left alone in the ancient cottage. “Interesting,” he said.


III

She took a deep, exasperated breath, lurching up from a soft bed of moss in a tranquil forest. Completely naked and exposed, Avery sat crouched with her knees drawn closely in. At least the pain was gone and she seemed largely intact once more. “Welcome to the Wellspring, my dear,” Verilon spoke from behind her.

“I’m alive?” she marveled. “How…how is this possible?”

“You passed the test, of course! There is magic in you, after all,” he explained proudly and draped a cloak around her.

“Your magic healed me?”

“Something like that,” he replied. “Like a phoenix is reborn from the flames, so too have you been renewed. Still, it will never heal the wound in your soul. That is your loss to bear. Draw strength from the death of your dragon friend and use it to help others.”

“So what now?”

“Now?” He smiled. “Now, you are much more than a Defender. You’ve been reborn. As a sorceress, you’ll have the universe at your command. Now, we begin your real training.”


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