Chapter 49: The Wizard’s Ill-Fated Apprentice

“The Wizard’s Ill-Fated Apprentice” was the opening story in the saga of the Great Flood, or as it was sometimes called, “The War between the Land and the Sea.”

While the name of the title character was either lost or else had been intentionally expunged from the extant versions of the Great Flood, his description as the half-mortal son of a high though unnamed goddess and a golden-voiced minstrel seemed uncomfortably close to how an only partially informed narrator might describe Caelym in some distant time in the future.

Like Caelym, the wizard’s ill-fated apprentice was an unusually capable and gifted student in the ancient day when the three high fields of wisdom were still combined into one and were imbued with magical skills long since lost. There were passages that depicted him as performing amazing feats at an early age and several lines saying he was predicted to be the greatest wizard of his time, even outshining the brilliance and renown of his own master, the great Alhwradd. Without intending to, Herrwn slipped into a silent recitation of the story’s opening lines, and once he did, the rest of the ill-fated apprentice’s tragic tale ran on despite his efforts to think of something else.

… defying Alhwradd’s warning not to venture into realms reserved to the highest divinities, the apprentice persisted in these dangerous incantations until he began to think he was so powerful he could command the sea. Early one morning, while the elder wizard was still asleep, the ill-fated apprentice donned his master’s robes, took his master’s sacred implements, and went to a cliff overlooking the sea, where he began an invocation commanding the seas to rise and come to him. It was a dangerous thing to do, and it awakened a force best left undisturbed—the long-smoldering dispute between the Earth-Goddess and her eldest daughter, the Sea-Goddess. As the sea below the cliff began to heave and swell, the apprentice was pleased with his apparent triumph. His conceit turned to terror as the waters gathered into an immense wave that rose up high over his head and came crashing down, followed by others that swept over the land, drowning everything that lay in their path.

By the time Alhwradd awoke and realized what was happening, it was too late to do a counterspell. He was, however, able to give warning so that the king had time to gather his most valuable subjects and take refuge in the highest mountains in the world.

The remainder of the epic told how the survivors managed to overcome the effects of the spell gone wrong and were eventually able to return the sea to its proper shores. The apprentice himself was never mentioned again and was presumed to have been the first victim of his own folly.

In the time he’d been ruminating, Herrwn had finished his breakfast. Now, pushing his empty bowl aside, he wiped his mouth before addressing Olyrrwd with a careful balance between authority and conciliation.

“I am pleased to hear that things are going well for our most excellent cook’s ailing toe and have no doubt its improvement is a tribute to your skilled craft. Knowing how vital it is that Caelym resume his instruction in that very artistry, I will go at once and see that he returns to do so as soon as possible.”

Half-expecting Olyrrwd to demand to come along (or go instead), he was relieved when his cousin merely wiped his hands on his robe and said, “You do that. And tell Caelie I will be there just as soon as I’ve checked with our cook to see how her toe fares today.”

It was like Olyrrwd that he always found time to minister to the needs of a servant’s ailments in spite of his private grumbling that for all her complaining, Iddwrna’s toe was not as swollen and painful as his own knees.

“Why do you go to treat her so often?” Herrwn asked, but again it was like his cousin to cover over his own tender compassion by grunting, “How else would I know what’s really going on around here?”

Once Olyrrwd was safely out of sight, Herrwn made his way through the thick and choking fog to the Sacred Grove, only to find it empty except for the remains of a disemboweled baby goat. This was worrisome in itself, as it was incumbent on an apprentice to clean up after himself if there was no servant in attendance.

Now gravely concerned, Herrwn made his way back through the fog. As he was starting down the hall in the direction of the oracle’s tower, he saw Ossiam striding briskly toward him.

“Ossiam, what’s happened? Where’s Caelym?”

Ossiam stopped midstride. Ignoring Herrwn’s admittedly brusque questions, he raised his staff and called out, “Oh, Herrwn, I was just coming to find you.”

“Caelym’s rite is finished?”

“It is.”

“And you have released him?”

“I have.”

“And the fog is only a coincidence, and not …” Suddenly feeling quite foolish, Herrwn fumbled to close his sentence, not wanting to admit to what he now realized were groundless fears.

Still, he was relieved when Ossiam said, “The fog—as all forces of nature—is the province of the Goddess and the highest of her divine consorts!”

Readily agreeing, “Indeed, it is!” Herrwn reached forward to pat Ossiam on the arm. “Well then, I will go to the healing chamber to see that he and Olyrrwd know that I’ll want him to come to the classroom to prepare for his part in tonight’s recitation as soon as possible.”

Herrwn was, in fact, quite determined to have Caelym back in the classroom in time to rehearse his role in that night’s recitation and in particular wanted his backup in playing the dissonant chords depicting the raging storm that would first buffet and then swamp and sink the hero’s ship.

He was turning to deliver exactly that message directly to Olyrrwd when Ossiam snapped, “Wait!”

The sharpness of Ossiam’s tone seemed to startle the oracle as much as it did Herrwn, because he softened it immediately as he went on, “Wait, Herrwn, my dearest cousin, before you rush off. As I have the morning free, I was hoping you might want to go play a round of Stones.”

Herrwn wavered. The part he had planned for Caelym in the night’s recitation was not a speaking role but simply strumming rising and falling arpeggios in the background. And in view of how anxious Olyrrwd had been over Caelym’s welfare, it would be a generous act to give the two of them some uninterrupted hours together, as well as a gracious one to accept Ossiam’s conciliatory overture. Swayed by these considerations—and overtaken by a sudden yearning to take his beloved game board down from its place on the classroom shelf—Herrwn cleared his throat and said, “Well, if you are sure you are willing to risk being beaten, I suppose I could make time for one game.”