//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8: Crocker 
// Story: Souls Apart: The Apprentice 
// by GnollReader 
//------------------------------//

"Ten!" Crocker used his stone arms to embrace the imp in a bear hug. "It's been so long!" he continued to crush the air out of Ten.

"Can't breath!" Ten wheezed as he dangled in Crocker's embrace.

"Oh! Sorry," Crocker gave Ten an apologetic smile as he set him down again. "How have you been? Anything interesting happen-" he spotted Pipsqueak. "A pony!" his smile broadened as he turned back to Ten. "I got a lot of them these days," he chuckled. "They're fun!"

"Yes, yes," Ten mumbled as he rubbed his ribs. "But this one isn't here for the challenge. He's special."

"He is?" Crocker gave Pipsqueak an interested gaze. "He is smaller than the ones I usually get..."

"He's Aergad's new apprentice." Ten stated. "Kid, this is Crocker. Crocker, this is-"

"You're Aergrad's apprentice?!" Crocker interrupted the imp and rushed to Pipsqueak to grab one of his hooves and shake it wildly. "It is such an honor! I'm Crocker!"

"I'm Pipsqueak," the foal couldn't help but smile as Crocker continued to shake his hoof with an enthusiastic smile. At the same time though, he couldn't help but notice that even though Crocker was only as tall as himself; he had a grip like steel.

"Don't crush the kid's hoof," Ten sighed with a small smirk. "The boss wouldn't like that."

"This is so great!" Crocker let go of Pipsqueak's hoof and bounced up and down in front of the foal; each bounce making the ground tremble slightly. "He's never had an apprentice before!"

"He hasn't?" Pipsqueak asked with surprise and turned to Ten with a curious look. "Why not?"

"Things work a bit differently back where he is from," Ten sighed. "And the boss has never been very trustful of others. There were several aspiring mages that sought him out over the years, but he turned down every single one of them."

"Why?"

"Because they all had the wrong goals," Ten replied with a small shrug. "Not to mention that most of them tried to steal his knowledge rather than ask for it," he chuckled. "He never liked that one bit."

"I remember," Crocker nodded. "The tower always smelled like burnt hair afterwards... Do you remember the treasure hunter? What was her name again? Najira?"

"It was Nadjira," Ten corrected him with a frown. "And she wasn't a treasure hunter. She was a thief."

"Nadjira?" Pipsqueak tilted his head in confusion. "Why did she want to steal from him?"

"Never mind, kid." Ten shook his head with a small sigh. "And take my advice, don't mention her name around the boss. Now," the imp held out the small pebble and tossed it towards Crocker. "Show the kid what you do best."

Both Pipsqueak's and Xhergis' eyes followed the small pebble as it traveled though the air and towards Crocker, and they both felt their mouths drop the moment it made contact with his surface.

Instead of simply glancing off Crocker's stone skin, the pebble started to roll over his little figure, dancing over his arms and head as Crocker chuckled happily.

"You see," Ten started to speak with a smirk as Crocker retreated his arm and legs and started rolling over the clearing; the pebble and several other small rocks starting to follow him. "Stone trolls have a very deep understanding of rocks."

"An understanding of rocks?" Xhergis asked with wonder.

"What the boss wants you to understand is the following," Ten turned to Pipsqueak. "Rocks want to move."

"They do?" Pipsqueak tilted his head in confusion even as he watched Crocker cross the clearing with his collection of smaller rocks and stones.

"Of course," Ten replied. "Everything has an inner desire. Flowers wish to bloom, water wants to flow," he took a step backwards as Crocker passed with an ever-growing collection of rocks; a small avalanche passing between them accompanied by Crocker's happy laughter. "And rocks, want to move," Ten finished with a small shrug.

The imp returned his attention to the foal. "When you made that pebble move, you were probably imagining you were pushing it with your hoof. Weren't you?" Seeing Pipsqueak's only reply was a confused nod, the imp continued. "But instead of forcing it to move, why not get it to move by itself?"

Ten tossed the pebble towards Crocker as he made another pass, the little stone instantly joining the rest of the stones happily following his trail. "You see, Crocker isn't moving them by magic," Ten smiled as he watched the laughing stone troll continue his path. "He's simply sharing his wish with them to move. He's passing on his desire, and the rocks make it their own."

He picked up another pebble and held it out towards Pipsqueak. "So instead of trying to force it to move, try to have it move by itself. Understand the rocks, and make their desire to move your own." Ten chuckled. "You might be surprised by the results."





Aergad felt old. It was a feeling that had come to haunt him far too many times these days, and he despised it more than anything else.

The feeling of unrest, the strange sensation that there was something he needed to do but could not bring himself to rested heavily upon him. And in consequence, it had driven him to the one room of his tower he hated more than his own disability to change fate.

This room only contained one object, not tapestries, no magic; only this one thing. No ponies were brought here, and even the imps that served him knew well enough to avoid it. This room had always been his own challenge, his own punishment.

Inside the dimly lit room and shut off from the world, there stood a single, large mirror covered under a dusty, old cloth.

The Mirror of Disbelief, the imps called it. It was an old artifact he had long ago added to his collection, and only he knew its true name these days. And even though he despised its existence, he had never found himself capable to get rid of it. The reason was that he simply hoped that one day it would no longer have anything left to say to him. That one day, he would have nothing left to regret.

Aergad walked up to the covered mirror with quiet steps, his black robes swaying softly as he did. Almost hesitating, he reached out and pulled off the cover, gazing into the black glass that showed nothing.

"Mirror, mirror. Plight of my life," Aergad whispered with a heavy breath. "What do I regret?"

At first, the surface of the mirror remained motionless. Then, a soft ripple started to spread over the black surface and slowly, words started to form from the black depth of the mirror.

"Everything..." the toneless voice whispered to him. "You regret, everything."

"You don't say." Aergad sneered. "Be a little bit more precise, will you?"

The mirror was silent for a moment. "There are not enough words in this world to speak of the things you regret and the truths you reject..."

"What a waste of my time." Aergad shook his head and grabbed the cloak. "I don't even know why I took the time to-"

"But above all things else," the mirror continued to speak. "You regret your own cowardice."

Aergad did not answer, but only stood there with the cloak still in his hands; an empty expression on his face.

"What you regret most," the mirror continued to whisper. "Is that you cannot bring yourself to face her... and not having told her that you love her."

For a while, the necromancer merely stared at the mirror; silent and contemplating. Then, with a quick motion he covered the mirror again and left. He had heard what he had come to hear, and like always; it gave him no peace.





"Alright, let's see," Calindria rubbed her chin as she checked the map spread out in front of her. "How many are we up to?" she asked without turning to Buster.

"All seven of the major clans, my queen." Buster replied with a small bow. "Also about twenty of the smaller or negligible clans. I expect that those remaining will soon send their alphas to join your cause. We have already sent word to everyone of the gathering."

"Good," the paladin nodded. "Everything is coming together nicely," she turned to Buster. "How many do the risen count at this point?"

Buster quickly opened one of the many bags he was carrying these days; stuffed with maps, assorted documents and anything he thought she would need. After he had managed to persuade the last clan into following her order without a single incident of violence, she had decided to appoint him as her representative. The decision had been simple; he knew the alphas, he knew the area, and it was by far easier to send him to the different clans rather than appear there herself with her army and Tobie in tow.

"About five thousand," Buster replied after a quick check of one of the papers.

Unknown to her though, Buster, in an attempt to serve her as diligently as possible had also started to fill his bags with any item she discarded. Among old chicken and rabbit bones, he had already collected an old comb, a torn shirt, some stale bread, and small twig she had used to write words into the sand with a day earlier.

"Send word to the clan leaders," Calindria spoke after a moment of thought. "I will start training them immediately. They can then pass what they learned on to their pack members. You'll also be joining the lessons, Buster. How is your writing coming along?"

"Better every day, my queen." The paladin let out a small sigh at the title. She had tried to make them stop calling her by that title, but they seemed fixed upon it; so she had given up trying to change it. There was simply too much left to do anyway. "Will you give me another lesson tonight?" Buster wagged his tail in joyful anticipation.

"Yes, yes," Calindria nodded absent-mindedly as he returned to her maps. "We'll also be continuing with math," she didn't see Buster flinch at her words. "Tobie! Nips!" she called out. A moment later, the two undead entered the tent, both grinning and each making an ridiculous attempt at a salute.

"Hey, boy," Nips greeted Buster with a smirk. "You doing good at helpin' the queen?"

"Doing the best I can," Buster replied with a slightly nervous nod. The undead weren't as scary as they were before now that he had spent some time among them; he even took his free time to chat with them every now and then. The other dogs avoided their dead brethren, but he had been starting to feel even slightly comfortable around them; as long as he was close to the queen at least.

"Alright, listen up." Calindria beckoned the three over to the table where the map was laying upon. "See this place? Where the two rivers join in the delta?"

"Backshadow's meet," Nips nodded. "What about it?"

"This is the place," Calindria planted her finger on the spot with determination. "Both tactically and from the necessity of getting resources; this is the best point to start."

"Start what, my queen?" Buster asked as he watched the spot on the map in confusion.

Calindria reached to the side, taking a big scroll from the table and unrolling it over the map. Upon the parchment, countless lines and circles traveled over one another to form a mosaic unlike any they had seen before. It had taken her days of work to turn the plans into what she wanted, and countless corrections had been made to make sure everything was accounted for; but now it seemed everything was ready and waiting for her word to start.

"Is that..." Buster whispered in wonder.

"It is time to lay the first foundations of the new nation," Calindria nodded and turned to Nips. "Gather your brethren. We will start building immediately." She turned to Buster and handed him the plans. "Copy it and hand it out to the undead workers. Today, we will start building our capitol."