The Fool's Apprentice

Dragon Moon Press

The Fool’s

Apprentice

Kelly Hess

The Fool's Apprentice

Copyright ©2016 Kelly Hess

All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including but not limited to xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.

ebook ISBN 978-1-988256-07-8

www.dragonmoonpress.com

Dragon’s Launch

The land of Tirra, stretching between two mighty oceans, was divided into eleven kingdoms. As with any such landscape of guarded borders and protected territories, wars were fought and alliances formed. In the heart of Tirra, the kingdom of Dragon’s Launch stood as a crystal example of peaceful prosperity. Although not without its troubles, Dragon’s Launch had remained at peace with its neighbors for decades under the rule of the even-minded and gentle-hearted King Greggor.

But even in times of order, dark forces will inevitably emerge from the shadows to disrupt harmony for their own nefarious ends. At this time, in Dragon’s Launch, events were taking place that threatened the stable tranquility of the kingdom.

Chapter One

The Ceremony

Sir Roland, master-at-arms, stood sleepily in the crowded throne room. Every year, the Apprentice Ceremony dragged on tediously long as each young person in the district having reached the age of sixteen was apprenticed to a chosen craft. This year was no different. In the great chamber, a throng of onlookers surrounded the gathered hopefuls who sat together in the center. The flag of Dragon’s Launch hung prominently behind the dais—the white emblem of a great dragon, its wings spread wide, glowed against a field of the darkest blue. Looking tired and confused, King Greggor sat with his crown slipping forward on his forehead and read aloud each name from a parchment and assigned a master. Following each apprenticeship, the assembled watchers applauded wildly, hooting and hollering like a mob of peasants.

Roland heaved a sigh as he looked down at the parchment he had been given before the ceremony. Everyone had been informed of their apprentice assignments in advance. He stared at the twisting markings on the page, trying in vain to understand their meaning. No matter, he already knew what they said. But, looking about the chamber, he realized the person listed on the parchment was not in attendance.

Just to be certain, he stuffed the parchment into the hand of the uniformed man standing beside him. Voss, I need to pay attention to the ceremony, he told him. Read this and tell me what it says.

Voss glanced at the parchment momentarily and then rolled it back up neatly. It says that Denrikk Barbary will be your new squire.

Roland nodded. As I expected. He scanned the crowd once more. He’s not here, Voss. Go and find him, and quickly! he ordered. Voss disappeared in a flash and Roland returned his attention to the ceremony. How he hated all this unnecessary pomp. His eyes wandered about the chamber as Leonard, a young man who Roland knew had trained for combat, was unexpectedly apprenticed to the kitchen.

Sitting always to the right of the throne, Alendria, the king’s daughter, looked regal and beautiful, her raven hair circled with a silver band. To the left stood the rat-faced Gerald, the king’s arrogant son and heir to the throne.

Beside Gerald, keeping close watch over the king, stood Malifec, the royal advisor, his eyes narrow and his bearded chin thrust outward. Roland watched the gray-clad advisor with contempt, though he had no reason to dislike him. He knew little of the advisor other than the king valued his guidance. Valued it too much, Roland thought. Malifec’s position gave him powerful influence over the king’s decisions, a discomforting prospect, in Roland’s opinion.

Fumbles, the king’s fool, wrapped in his usual ridiculously colored garb, stood far to one side of the dais. Normally boisterous and obnoxious, the little man watched the ceremony with uncommon reserve.

The crowd erupted again in raucous applause as a slender girl was assigned under the tutelage of Mrs. Killgard, the palace gardener. The girl walked with excessive slowness to stand beside the caretaker, who smiled proudly. Roland rolled his eyes, wishing silently that something would cut the ceremony short—an earthquake, a war, anything.

The king waited until the crowd again fell silent before announcing the next name. Denrikk Blueberry.

Quiet laughter rippled across the hall.

Barbary, Father, Alendria corrected. His name is Barbary. The king squinted down at his parchment. Ah, so it is! Barbary.

Heads turned this way and that, but no one rose to the name. Roland held his breath and scanned the hall expectantly. Where the hell is he?

Well, as it appears that Mister Barbary is not in attendance, an alternate must be chosen, the king said. He looked in Roland’s direction. The lad was to be assigned to your service, Master-at-Arms, is that correct?

Roland cleared his throat. Indeed, Your Majesty, he said. Where is that boy?

The king ran a finger down the names on the parchment. Ah! he smiled. Ding McPortly. A husky boy sprang to his feet from a seat in the center of the hall, a wide smile on his face. It says here, the king continued, that Ding is to be assigned to the stables, but if there are no objections? His eyes scanned the room.

The old stable master spoke up from the back of the chamber. I have no objection, Your Majesty. He glanced at the three young men standing beside him. It will mean more work for these lads, but I’m certain they’re up for the challenge.

Very well. The king nodded. Ding-dong will, from here on, serve under our master at arms.

The hall erupted in laughter.

Father! Alendria admonished.

What did I say? the king asked. Unaffected by the slight, Ding strode proudly through the crowd to stand with Roland.

It was close to an hour later before the final names were called and the apprenticeships were completed. Only Fumbles, the king’s fool, remained without a novitiate.

I’m sorry my old friend, the king said to the colorfully dressed man. Yet again, there appears no one suited for the unique and special abilities necessary in your art.

Fumbles bowed grandiosely. No apology necessary, your greatness. For certain, it is a rare thing for a pupil with the required skills to enter these halls.

As if on cue, the great door to the chamber slammed opened with a thunderous boom. A young man with sopping brown hair and covered only in a shabby towel was ushered into the hall by the uniformed man Roland had sent. The man led the boy through the crowd of stunned onlookers and shoved him toward the dais. In comic-fashion, the boy’s wet feet slipped from beneath him as he attempted to steady himself. He twisted high into the air, his feet flying toward the ceiling, and landed face-down, his towel whipping up around his waist and exposing his bare backside directly to the king. The crowd broke their silence and laughter filled the hall.

Silence! the king bellowed. Alendria leaned across and spoke quietly to her father. At the same time, Malifec leaned in and also spoke into the king’s ear. The king shook his head and waved the advisor away.

So, the king addressed the crowd, Young Blueberry has at last decided to join us, and in such splendid fashion.

It’s Barbary, Father, Alendria corrected again.

The boy sat up and straightened his towel. He wiped the dripping hair from his forehead, awkwardly trying to smooth his disheveled appearance.

Well, Mister Blueberry, the king continued, "you will be relieved to learn that your actions today will not prevent you from taking a chosen apprenticeship."

The king turned and smiled at his vibrantly dressed fool who still watched from nearby. Fumbles, my old friend, I believe we’ve found you an apprentice.

Chapter Two

Disbelief

Denrikk stood in stunned confusion, oblivious to the milling crowd bustling around him. A fool’s apprentice? Was there even such a thing ? He’d worked so hard, practiced until his fingers bled, to one day become a knight in the king’s service. And now all of that was gone in one scorching moment. His father would be furious. He looked about frantically and smoothed a hand again over his sopping hair, igniting a stab of pain from a stinging lump at the back of his head. Where had that come from? But the thought died away as the urge boiled within him to chase after the king, to explain what had happened. But it was all a fog.

And then Roland was there, disappointment dripping from his face like morose ink.

Please, sir. Denrikk closed his eyes, embarrassed to look at him. It wasn’t my fault…

Don’t talk, the master at arms snapped. There’s nothing you can say. His harsh words cut like knives.

Denrikk opened his eyes, wet with tears, and felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. Don’t worry, Roland told him almost gently. Things will work themselves out. I’ll speak to the king.

Denrikk nodded weakly. There was hope! Thank you, sir. I just can’t be a … a fool.

You shall be whatever the king decides you shall be, he said, hardness returning to his voice. And if it comes to pass that you are to be a fool, then you’ll work hard and you’ll make it your passion to be the best damned fool this kingdom has ever known! Do you understand me?

Denrikk wiped at his face and nodded. Yes, sir.

Now, I must go speak with my new squire.

New squire? Denrikk whined. He’d hoped against hope that he would be Roland’s chosen squire this year.

Yes, Denrikk, Roland said. You were my first choice, but in your absence, the king selected Ding as squire.

Ding? Denrikk’s mind spun. How could this have happened?

Go and put some clothes on, Roland told him. We’ll talk more later."

Denrikk nodded, but as he turned to leave, he came face to face with Fumbles. The fool had an unreadable grin on his lips. Blueberry! I’m so pleased.

Denrikk nodded, trying to hide his disappointment.

Yes. The fool nodded curtly. Well then, you should go and gather your things immediately. I’ll expect you in my tower within the hour. Is that clear, Blueberry? He smiled broadly.

Denrikk nodded. My name is Barbary, sir. Denrikk Barbary, he said firmly. Not Blueberry.

Fumbles put a hand to his chin with an exaggerated expression of deep thought. Denrikk, Denrikk, he repeated as if trying out the name. Barbary. he sounded out, Bar-ba-ree.

Then he shook his head and wagged a finger in Denrikk’s face. No! he frowned. That simply won’t do.

Won’t do? Denrikk said, astonished. To his memory, no one had ever told him that his name was unsuitable.

The fool wore an expression of utmost seriousness. Your name, my young apprentice … is Blueberry! And with that, he turned with a flourish and walked away

Denrikk walked in a daze across the castle’s inner courtyard toward the gate, ignoring the stares of passersby who snickered at his disheveled appearance.

Denrikk, came a familiar voice rousing him from his bewilderment. He looked but did not stop. It was Alendria, walking hurriedly to catch him. I’m sorry, she said, falling into step beside him.

Denrikk shrugged.

What will you do? she asked.

What can I do? Aside from running, that is?

Don’t talk that way, she said. You can’t run away! Where would you go? The thought of running, of leaving the kingdom, had not actually occurred to him until he spoke the words. But the idea had its merits. Anything was better than being a clown.

He glanced at her. Should you even be talking to me? I don’t think it’s proper for a royal princess to be seen conversing with a fool.

She stopped and looked at him, open mouthed. I can’t believe you’d say that to me!

I only meant—

After all we’ve been through, you think I’d turn my back on you now? She was riled and Denrikk looked away, ashamed. How low you must think of me, she said.

No, Denrikk stammered. I don’t! I just meant … oh I don’t know what I meant. I’m just so confused.

What happened, Denrikk? The heat was gone from her voice. Why weren’t you there?

He shook his head. I can’t remember. I woke up on the bank of the lake, soaking wet. My clothes were missing and I had only this towel to cover myself. All I could remember was the ceremony so I ran as fast as I could. Then Voss found me and dragged me to the throne room.

You don’t remember anything else? she asked.

He shook his head. I must have blacked out. I have an awful bump where I hit my head. He pressed a hand again to the tender knot. Alendria reached out and touched her fingers to the back of his head. Oh my, she said. "That is a nasty bump."

Denrikk reluctantly pulled away from her touch. I have to go. I’m to meet Fumbles soon. I have to gather my things.

Very well. Meet me later? she asked, her eyes hopeful.

I’ll try, he said truthfully. But who knows what this day has in store.

***

As he approached the castle’s gate, Denrikk saw his father waiting under the portcullis archway. He steeled himself for the lecture he knew was coming.

What the hell happened to you? his father greeted him with a roar.

I don’t know, Denrikk answered, ashamed to look at him.

Don’t know? You just ruined what was probably the most important day of your entire life, and you don’t know? His face was red with anger. Everything we’ve worked for was a waste. Not only did you embarrass your family, but you’ve destroyed any chance of ever becoming a knight! And if that weren’t enough, you exposed your arse to the entire bloody kingdom! My God, what a fool you are! And then he struck a closed-fisted blow to the side of Denrikk’s head. Denrikk saw the attack coming and turned away to lessen the impact, but the wallop still sent him reeling to one side.

Denrikk stood and at last looked at his father defiantly. That’s right, Father! By royal decree, I’m a fool. His anger exploded—anger at his father for offering no compassion, but mostly at himself. For he knew, although crass and brutish as he might be, his father was right. He’d ruined everything. I’m an idiot, a buffoon, a fool! You might as well get used to it! He pushed past his father and stormed away toward home, never looking back.

Chapter Three

The Princess

It didn’t take long for Denrikk to gather his things for his possessions were few: a single drawer of clothes, his favorite book, and a knife. His eyes fell upon his bow, leaning against a corner of his bedroom, and he sighed. After countless hours of practice, Denrikk’s skill with the bow had become great, but what use was it to a fool? Still, he treasured the weapon. He and his father had constructed it last summer, a rare fond memory of their time spent together. Perhaps he could somehow use it in one of the foolish acts that he would undoubtedly have to perform. His stomach tightened at the thought, and his legs wobbled.

In a flood of anguish, his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto his bed sobbing. A fool! A ridiculous clown for others to laugh at! That’s what my life has become. It’s all a mistake. Why can’t they see it?

He sniffed. Perhaps escaping the kingdom wasn’t so bad an idea as he’d first thought. It wouldn’t be easy on his own, but he’d survive somehow. But even in the midst of these thoughts, he knew he couldn’t leave. Alendria. He couldn’t leave the princess behind.

It was remarkable that they’d ever met at all, a commoner and a princess. Denrikk’s father was a carpenter and a very good one at that. Years before, when Denrikk was but twelve years old, his father’s reputation led to him being commissioned to repair the king’s stables. Working inside the castle walls was a rare privilege, and his father allowed Denrikk to come along as assistant.

One day, as they worked to replace a stall door, an angry voice rang through the stable. Damn you, Sugar! Stand still. Several more uncomfortable minutes of cursing passed before a young girl, dressed in fine riding attire, stomped toward them, hands on her hips.

You there, she yelled. Stable boy. Come help me with my horse!

I’m not a stable boy, Denrikk replied.

I don’t care what you are. I need your help.

Denrikk looked at his father to rescue him. You’d better go, his father told him with a wink.

Denrikk did as he was told and helped the girl saddle her horse.

What’s your name? the girl asked as she mounted up for her ride.

Denrikk, he replied.

"Denrikk, Your Highness," she corrected him.

No, it’s just Denrikk.

The girl smiled. Very well. Thank you, Denrikk.

Do you know who that was? his father asked him after the girl had