The Apprentice

Written for the Matthew Fromm High Fantasy Challenge (500-word limit). Win prizes!!! Find all the details here.

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He who possesses the Emerald Chalice shall inherit the elements...

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Alchemists are baffled by the cryptic Plaques of Wedowin. Made of Umblee scales, these archaic tablets have eluded every attempt to decipher their antiquated script.

Draden, a wayward apprentice, discovers a technique that grants him the first three words. When spoken, the sky bleeds green for a fraction of time. Five crucial words remain obscurant, without them his efforts are futile.

He paces the stone balcony dreaming of the latent powers he will claim. He looks to the sky and begins counting stars.

"What troubles you, my son?" Bralfir, an elder of the Tortian assembly asks as he slowly walks toward the engrossed young man.

"Nothing, sir. I was counting stars in the heavens."

"Never in fifty cycles can one map the sky. You best finish your chores. Tomorrow is but a click away."

Draden's mind is bubbling over. His perseverance reeks of selfish intentions.

"What if I told you, my lord... I have solved part of the script."

"What script do you speak of ...wait, the Emerald Chalice implores your attention. It ranks among the most difficult tasks for the likes of any conjurer. You best stick to your rudimentary lessons before graduating to such a daunting enterprise."

Draden is perturbed by the blatant underestimation.

“Lord Bralfir, I kid you not! The Chalice is real, it will be mine... Forgive me, it will be ours... Behold the unimaginable!”

Draden returns to the edge of the balcony overlooking the Umblee caves and shouts the words of the Chalice.

“Karthec lassim orotorix!”

A sonic boom thrashes the chasm, followed by a single cloud that quickly materializes above the tree line. It swirls and transforms from white to a glowing green. The makes of a large cyclone appears and then it’s all gone. Bralfir is astounded but gazes forth with contempt.

“Son! This is both miraculous and damning! We don’t harbor secrets amongst us!”

“My lord, this is no secret. I simply unriddled a task that no one could seem to fathom. The answer lies in the stars, the constellations. The Chalice is not the doing of powerful sorcerers. It was gifted to Callista's realm by master architects from another time and place. They’ve hidden clues in the constellations. Five more words are pivotal in breaking the code. Will you, alone, help me?”

“No... we must consult the assembly at once!”

Bralfir turns and walks toward the entrance. Draden swiftly walks up behind him.

“Sir, I can’t allow you to do that!”

He wraps a rope around the elder’s neck and begins to strangle him. Bralfir briefly struggles, then strikes his staff to the ground three times and vanishes. The rope falls to the polished stone. Draden hurdles the balcony’s ledge and uses rugged tever vines to climb down. He escapes into the Cinquet Forrest and can never return.

It’s imperative he solve the script before the collective efforts of the assembly. He never intended to share the chalice.

Part II - The Persistence of Causality

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