The Doormaster's Apprentice

By Zerelda's Children

Liam and his friends live in a magical world where wonder and danger exist side by side. Where magic has its own rules and stepping through a spell-linked door might take you anywhere. Young Liam has never been far from his sleepy little village of Three Oaks Dale, but his apprenticeship to the Doormaster is about to change all that. When he and his friend Mica set out to deliver the king's new magic door, they become entangled in a dark plot that threatens the entire kingdom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zerelda's Children
• Release date: Aug 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311544087

Book preview

The

Doormaster’s

Apprentice

Copyright 2014

by Zerelda’s Children

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this authors.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

Table of Contents

Start

Dedication

Thank You

Chapter 1

Liam finished mounting the heavy second door into the frame and carefully rolled it across the polished stone floor. The small wooden wheels squeaked softly, echoing off the stone walls, as he rolled the door into place alongside the first. Liam glanced over his shoulder. Even small sounds seemed loud to him in the Doormaster’s cavernous underground workshop. Taking a fire globe off the wall, he held it close; the bright light chased the shadows from the door. Reaching out, he brushed the wood with his fingertips, smiling at how the quality of the gnome workmanship shone through.

A smile spread over his face. Some day, he said, I will buy a door like this for my father’s vineyard.

The doors were not gilded with gold or gems. They were heavy working doors made from solid oaken planks. But the gnome’s skill had transformed them into works of art. Liam moved his hand and light from the globe danced along the heavy brass hinges. He marveled at how it flowed out across the studded surface forming fanciful arcs and wide swirls.

Brass nails of substantial size held the dark planks of the door together. Each head displayed the shape of a different animal. The nails had been carefully driven into place with unique punches. Repeated hammer blows against engraved punches forged the once round nail heads into animals. At the top they had placed the Doormaster’s trademark, a small artistically carved window, which allowed you to see who was standing on your step.

Mother would just love to have a door like this Liam thought. But first I will have to finish my apprenticeship. He leaned back from the door and sighed, and to do that I’ll have to finish my chores.

So Liam replaced the fire globe, picked up the sack and the list of ingredients the Doormaster had left on the table, and crossed the room to a battered old door tucked away beneath the stairs. At one time the old door may have boasted exquisite carvings, but the years had washed away all but a shadow of its past grandeur. It was arched at the top, shorter and wider than the other doors in the house. The wood was ancient and looked out of place in the modern frame. Liam knew the Doormaster must have brought it with him from somewhere else, and installed it under the stairway.

Even though it was old, the ancient door held its magic well. The bond to its matching door, wherever it might be, was still strong. Behind this door lay the potion room which might be located across town or many leagues away from the underground workshop where he now stood. He wondered if even the Doormaster knew its physical location. Distance didn’t matter though. Once Liam passed through the door he would be stepping into that mysterious room.

He paused before entering and checked his pockets. It could be fatal to take a magical item through the field formed by linked doors. If the object wasn’t pure gold or shielded with silver, the bond would be severed. The Doormaster had explained the unpredictable and often violent results of such carelessness. He then gave him a pouch lined with silver net for carrying small magical items through the doors.

Everything was fine. The only magical item he was carrying was a solid gold ring that linked him to the Doormaster.

With a small gold key he wore around his neck, Liam unlocked the door. Shivering slightly he turned the knob. Even after serving as the Doormaster’s apprentice for three years, he was not comfortable in the potion room. Bending slightly he ducked through the entrance.

From the way it looked no one else liked to spend much time here either. The rest of the Doormaster’s dwelling was clean and spotless but here clutter and dust ruled supreme. A mysterious glow lit the room. Shelves and mismatched cupboards reached from the dust covered floor to the ceiling beams where tattered cobwebs swayed ghostly in unfelt air currents. Strange items littered the room. They had been jammed into jars and jugs, piled in pokes and pockets, thrust into tins, bins, buckets, bottles and bags, and what wouldn’t fit was crammed into crocks, cans, containers and closets. Narrow aisles twisted through this jumble of ingredients.

Pushing his way in to the room he turned and locked the door. His hand rested on the knob as he stood with his back to the door and let his eyes adjust to the shadows. With a deep breath he let go of the doorknob and reached his hand behind the large gray sack sitting on the floor. His fingers groped for the ball of string he kept hidden there. After securely tying one end to the doorknob, he started to play out the string as he crept down the aisles opening cabinet doors and checking shelves. He tried not to make any noise, but sometimes the floor creaked or a cabinet door would squeak when he opened it. Liam was not sure what he was afraid of. He had never seen anyone else in the potion room, but sometimes he heard noises he couldn’t explain. The place made him feel like he was being watched.

He easily found the first few items on the list. This might not be so bad thought Liam. I’ll just get what I need and then I can leave this murk.

But as the list got shorter he found himself being drawn deeper into the room. Things had moved since the last time he was here, almost as if they didn’t want to be found.

Liam continued to play out his string as he made his way deeper into the twisting maze. On both sides of him tall over burdened shelves leaned in to cast deep shadows into the aisle. He peered into tins and squinted to read hand written labels on ancient sacks and jars. Cautiously, Liam shifted the items on the shelf as he tried to read the labels.

Even slight movements disturbed the dust, releasing bizarre and grotesque smells that assaulted his nose. His eyes watered. His nose burned. He pinched it hard to control the sneeze, but it erupted explosively. From behind came a loud creak and a soft thud. Liam spun around, tangling his feet in the string. Eyes wide, heart pumping madly, Liam stared down the aisle behind him. Nothing moved. He held his breath and listened. Silence…nothing…after several seconds he began to relax.

Something must have fallen over back there he thought. The way things are piled up around here it must happen a lot.

He untangled himself and continued his search for the last few items on his list. But he couldn’t convince himself that he was alone. Every little sound caused him to jump and glance over his shoulder.

Finally he spied a picture of an elderberry bush on a small tin. It was partly hidden behind a thick round jar with a black encrusted lid. When he pushed it aside, his fingers slid across something sticky and he sprang back in dismay.

Pox and Corruption! he swore. Without thinking he rubbed his tingling fingers on his robe. The jar lid wasn’t properly sealed and some of the contents had oozed down the side. He looked down at the dark smear his fingers had left on his robe. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave a stain or something worse.

Liam squinted at the label. In between the dark slimy goo he could just make out the words Essence of Red Wor… He shook his head. It could be just about anything in the potion room. He hoped he hadn’t just put his hand into something unbelievably gross.

His first time in the potion room he had picked up a small misshapen package wrapped in yellowed paper and tied with red string. The attached tag read Harpy's Hairball.

At first he thought it was somebody’s idea of a joke. Then the package started twitching in his hand. He jerked, dropping it to the floor. In panic he kicked it away. It wiggled under a low shelf, the tag dragging behind like a tail. He shivered. He never wanted anything like that in his hand again.

Being careful not to touch the goo a second time, Liam reached behind the jar and removed the tin marked Elderberry Pollen. After a quick peek inside he placed it in his sack.

Only one more thing on my list, he thought. Holding his robe close to keep from brushing against anything else, he continued his search through the precarious stacks.

The tall racks of potions and ingredients seemed to lean over the aisle even further, almost closing in near the top. In the dim light the looming shelves and musty smell of old ingredients made the room feel like a cave. The string felt thin and frail as it passed over his fingers. The ball was now the size of a hen’s egg. Only enough for another aisle or two, he thought. This was the farthest he had ever been into the potion room.

At the next intersection a tall red and yellow urn sat hissing and steaming upon a three-legged stool made of stone. There was no tag or label, but as he came closer he could feel heat radiating from it. He edged past it and turned left.

Halfway down the next aisle, a stack of nested pails made of silver paper leaned against a stately wardrobe. A thin layer of frost clouded the glass in the double doors. Liam gently pulled one of the decorative knobs. A drift of snow spilled out sprinkling the hem of his robe in purest white.

He stood transfixed at the view. The wardrobe door was linked to a land of snow, and he was looking down from the top of a rather high hill. Before him lay a wintry land of wonder. The landscape stretched away from his feet in a series of small rolling hills covered in white. Above, the sun shone impossibly bright from an intensely blue sky. Sunlight blazed off each individual snow crystal creating a blanket of gleaming diamonds across an untouched expanse of snow.

Liam had no idea what land lay before him. There were no hills like this near his village and the snows of winter had melted months ago. He looked at the stack of silver pails standing in the dim dusty aisle. It would be simple enough to reach in and scoop out the snow he needed, but it would be so exciting to step out of this murky cave of a room and explore the dazzling winter hillside. A gust of wind blew across his face stinging his skin with cold crystals, bringing with it the crisp clean sent of pine from some unseen grove. The chance to escape for just a few minutes pulled at him. Liam placed the ball of string on the floor and grabbed a pail. Without so much as a backward glance he stepped through the magic door into the snow-covered hillside.

The doorway was sheltered in a slight hollow on the southern slope of the hill. At first the snow wasn’t very deep, but in a few steps it drifted over the tops of his short boots. He retreated back to explore near the door.

The magical feel of a snowy day in the middle of summer was intoxicating. He glanced back at the door. It would only take a few minutes to see what lay beyond the shoulder of the hill. At the western edge of the sheltered spot, a rock ledge had been swept clean by the wind. A lone pine grew from the rock, its gnarled roots fracturing the stone. Lightening had split the top and left a blackened scar down the trunk. He stepped out along the ledge.

He left the shelter of the depression. The full force of the winter wind slashed him. Gritting his teeth he pushed on against the cold, but his summer robe did little to stop the wind from whipping around his bare legs and chilling him to the bone. A quick look to the west was enough. He turned away from the wind and ran back to the depression. With chattering teeth he climbed back in through the door stomping his feet to remove the snow.

It wasn’t until he started to close the door that he remembered the empty pail he still had in his hand. Leaning out to the side where the show was still undisturbed by his footprints, he scooped the fresh snow. Then he noticed what looked like a small boot print near the door.

Could that have been there when I went out he wondered. Squinting against the brightness, all he could see were his own boot prints crisscrossing the snow. The only small print was the one near the door. A chill ran down Liam’s back that had nothing to do with the cold.

Had someone used the door to enter the potion room? The floor where he was standing was covered with snow from his own boots, hiding any tracks that may have been there. Liam suddenly felt sick. There might be a stranger in the potion room. He might have been the one to let them in. If someone wanted to hide, this was the perfect place. Liam didn’t know what to do except to tell the Doormaster. His master had always been understanding and kind, but Liam had never done anything nearly as bad as this. He would surely be punished. Maybe even dismissed.

Liam picked up his sack and hooked the pail over his arm. Rolling up the string, he started following it back to the door. At the end of the aisle he stopped and peered around the corner. Nothing looked different…nothing was waiting to jump out at him. He released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

It was only a small boot print, he thought. Whoever made it would probably be scared of me.

Just the same he was careful to check at the end of each aisle. By the time he made it back to the door he was feeling much better. He hadn’t caught even a glimpse of anyone else. He had almost convinced himself that he had imagined the little boot print. Leaning down he stored his string behind the sack for the next time.

That boot print was probably just a trick of the wind or maybe made by some bird or animal, he thought as he wiped the last of the melted snow off his boots. Not really made by someone’s boot at all.

With one hand gripping the sack of ingredients, he fumbled at the key around his neck to unlock the door. The pail of snow swung on his arm and bumped against his chest as he ducked through the door, closing it behind him. Just as he managed to turn the key he heard a small but distinct clatter behind the door. Liam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He leaned forward pushing his ear against the door. He stood frozen…listening. No more sounds came through the door, but Liam made up his mind. When the Doormaster came down to spell the doors he would be sure to tell him about the boot print.

He set about preparing the spelling table. The familiar routine helped to take his mind off the possibility of someone hiding in the potion room. After washing his hands he opened the package of fresh white towels. He dipped the first one into the bucket of spring water and sloshed it over the table scrubbing the cracks and wiping down the surface. With a fresh towel he dried it. From a cabinet under the table he dragged out a plain silver caldron and heaved it onto the table. The only ornamentation on it was a green enamel stripe that circled the rim.

With a fresh towel, Liam cleaned first the inside and then the outside of the caldron. As he ran the cloth over the stripe, the heat from the friction changed the stripe to a lighter shade of green. He wrapped the towel around his hand like a glove and hung the caldron on the tripod at the end of the table. He smiled with satisfaction at his reflection. Not one fingerprint marred the shinning surface.

Without warning a loud voice squeaked up from behind him, jarring his nerves like fingernails on a writing slate. Taking the time to admire your pretty face?

Liam spun around with a jerk, knocking his elbow into the table. Not two feet away stood Hodekin. The short little man was dressed as always in a red vest and pants. His high top button down shoes a perfect match to his long sleeve shirt of deep blue. A rakish red hat with a turned up brim set cocked on his head like a crown.

And such a pretty face it is…though not half as pretty as mine. The little kobold’s wide grin showed his slightly pointed teeth.

Liam grimaced and rubbed his elbow. Just because you can change your shape doesn't mean you can just sneak up on people.

Hodekin placed a finger on top of his hat and danced in a small circle, clicking his heels loudly on the polished floor. Actually that is exactly what it means. He doffed his hat and made a small bow. And you make it so easy.

He reached inside his hat and pulled out a small silver flask. I was over by the wall pretending to be a stool, so you just overlooked me. Placing the hat back upon his head, he uncorked the flask and took a short pull. With a wink he replaced the cork. I was hoping to see the look on your face when you tried to sit down and found yourself flat on your backside, staring at the ceiling and flopping around like a freshly caught fish. Alas, it was not to be.

Liam watched Hodekin stumble sideways and place a hand against the wall to steady himself. A little early in the day to be drinking isn’t it? He knew the little kobold had a weakness for honeyed rum.

Just a little tired is all. Been busy cleaning all morning. Maybe a little nap is what I need. Before Liam could say another word, Hodekin turned on his heel and weaved towards the stairs.

Good riddance! said Liam as he rubbed his elbow. Go sleep it off you annoying little boil.

The kobold's squeaky laughter grated on Liam's ears followed by the clatter of his shoes stumbling up the stairs. Liam scowled.

Then a sudden inspiration passed through his mind. Could it have been Hodekin's footprint in the snow? But Liam knew only he and the Doormaster had keys. The little kobold was annoying and unnerving, but he was loyal in his service to the Doormaster. No one seemed to know why, but Liam suspected that Hodekin was paying off a debt. The Doormaster was the only one Hodekin showed the slightest bit of respect.

Liam tried to ignore the possibility he was being watched and laughed at. It was irritating. The kobold could be imitating anything in the room and Liam would never know.

He pushed the thought out of his mind. He still had work to do. His mother and father had paid good coin to give him the chance to learn the Doormaster’s trade, and no pint-sized kobold with an undersized hat was going to stand in his way.

From the cupboard he removed a set of silver balancing scales and weights. With a clean cloth he started polishing the scales, shoving the cloth across the silver surface with short angry jabs. As he rubbed away the tarnish, his thoughts kept slipping back to Hodekin. I need to find a way to tell when he is sneaking up on me, he thought. Then he won’t always be having the last laugh.

Liam continued to ponder the problem as he polished the weights but was no closer to a solution by the time he finished. He paused and looked over the preparations. Everything looked right, but had he forgotten anything? More light might be helpful. Crossing