Apprentice by Eric Guindon Page A

afraid of the pain that would surely come and, worse, afraid he would fail somehow and the magic would kill him. He trembled where he stood, unable to continue.
    “The first time will be the worst, but remember, this is all to one day be great and to strike down the wizard who took your family and life away from you,” the rat whispered in his ear.
    Determination filled Benen at the thought of one day being as powerful as the wizard and making him pay for what he had done to him — and to Orafin too. He brought to mind the Trickster stars and the facts he had memorized about them while remembering his intention for the spell and saying the incantation Orafin had taught him. This alone was quite a bit of mental gymnastics and hurt his brain, but the real hurt began when Orafin started letting his power flow into Benen, to fuel the spell. Only then did Benen burn.
    It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. He screamed and flailed. His breath scorched his lungs, throat, and mouth on its way out of him. Inhaling felt worse. He collapsed and lay there, feeling himself reduced to cinders over the course of minutes. Gratefully, he relinquished consciousness.
    He was woken, only seconds later, by a new, sharp, pain on his arm. Opening his eyes immediately felt like a mistake. Light stabbed at him through these new openings and pierced his brain. He screamed anew. The pain in his arm was repeated; Benen flailed that arm and felt it connect with something.
    “Wake up!” it was Orafin.
    Some part of Benen remembered life before the pain and tried to assert itself over the being he had become, a being totally consumed by the need to cope with an existence consisting only of pain.
    Orafin didn’t warn me it would be like this, Benen thought. So much pain!
    Forcing his eyes open again, Benen kept them open through the pain and tried to see. His head wanted to burst with the new agonizing sensations coming through his eyes.
    Everything is pain!
    He moved to the piece of wood from the loo, crawling every painful inch. Extending his arm, he tried to mold the wood, to mark it with the star pattern of the Parallels, but he couldn’t think. He couldn’t remember what it looked like through the agony he was feeling.
    Orafin helped.
    The rat guided his fingers to the right places and Benen hollowed out the spots he was directed to. The wood acted like soft clay under his fingers, some part of Benen was amazed by this, but it was drowned out by the animal part of him that was wanting the pain to stop, wanting to just sleep and hide from this agony.
    Eventually, the rat nodded and stopped giving Benen new places to mark on the piece of wood and the boy simply let go of consciousness then.
    The last thing he heard before oblivion claimed him was the rat saying, “Well done, boy.”
    He awoke, still on the floor, but no longer in burning agony, when Overseer came for him in the morning. Although the fire in his nerves was gone, Benen still felt like he had been beaten black and blue. He managed to stand.
    “I want to talk to the wizard,” he told Overseer. It pulsed brightly and zapped him. He took this to mean he should go with it. He brought the piece of wood with him to show the wizard. But Overseer did not bring Benen to the wizard. It took him on his usual cleaning rounds. Resigned, Benen did what he had to, he cleaned the places that needed cleaning as directed, thankful that the impossible stain was not on today’s schedule. Late in the day, he prepared the food for the wizard’s supper and his own — he was famished, he found — and resolved to accost the wizard during his meal.
    He brought out the roast chicken to the wizard, carrying the plate on his engraved loo plank. Benen served the plate, revealing the Parallels when he removed the plate from the plank. The wizard either did not notice or did not care. He ignored Benen altogether.
    Undeterred, Benen held out the plank for the wizard, but he did not look at him or