Malik strained with both hands, pulling with all his might. The large bucket of mop water sloshed at the edges, spilling on to his shoes. Blast it, they were absolutely soaked. Malik dropped the bucket on the floor with a mighty thud. This wasn't what he signed up for.
Being a wizard's apprentice should be interesting and exciting, not dull drudgery with the lure of possibly learning powerful magic. Osibus the Great was traveling, impressing lords and wowing kings in a quest for sponsorship of his dark arts. This left general upkeep to Malik.
Gather the wood, stoke the fires, stir the pots in the prescribed manner (but don't look under the magic seals) and tidy the scroll room. Malik carried a long list of general chores that he had been gradually crossing out with a soot-blackened nail. Today, mere hours before his master was to arrive, was the last task before him.
Osibus had promised that upon completion of his tasks that he would be granted a whole hour in the library. It made his head swim just to think of it. Dusty tomes and chain-linked wards protected the wizard's collection of discovered potions and magical incantations.
A whole hour would give Malik the skills to be a full-fledged apprentice, learning the arts under his masters wing. But only if all of the chores got done. Today, it was "clean fully the flagstones in the casting room and equipment galleries, taking care not to disturb any active experiments or sealed energies."
Hence the bucket, the mop and a lot of perspiration.
Malik wasn't the strongest sort, but everything here was built for Osibus and his seven-foot tall frame. The chairs were oversized, and the locks. Everything was scaled to giant proportions, including the ornate bucket with dragons and knights inscribed into the dull grey metal.
Malik cursed as he dragged the bucket over the stone floor, guiding the vessel to the equipment room. Every muscle in his arms ached. He even had a few scrapes and cut from falling off of the side roof. He had been patching slate tiles and had slipped, sliding into the water trough for the horses.
He was damp and annoyed. The library better be worth it, or he was out of here come tomorrow.
Malik pulled the bucket to the center of the room, water sloshing at the rim. Dunking the mop, he began making wide arcs on the dusty stone. The water seemed to absorb some places, in others it skittered in small droplets to the margins. He wondered what fantastic powers had been harnessed in this room.
He was going to be famous one day. It had been a dream of his ever since he saw Osibus in his village, talking to the elders in concerned tones. All the townsfolk flocked to wherever the wizard went, like sheep on the hillside. Malik wanted that kind of respect. Maidens swooned and blushed when Osibus produced flowers from his sleeve, or whispered their true loves name into their waiting ears.
Malik smiled, thinking of all the beautiful maidens that would call and shout his name - "Malik the Wise!", "Malik the Mysterious!" or "Malik the Magnificent!". All of it was possible if he learned but a fraction of what Osibus knew. He grinned, swabbing the stone floor.
No more late-night excursions to get relics from the graveyard, standing watch over the horses as Osibus bartered with Lords and Ladies. He could call the shots, maybe even get an apprentice of his own to chop the wood and cook the meals. It would be glorious.
Malik stepped backward, getting into the rhythm of the work. The large octagonal chamber was one of many, each stuffed to the brim with racks of rare potions and experiments. He couldn't wait to be done with this busy work. Who cleaned stones once a day, anyway?
The clopping of horses echoed through the narrow slits in the wall. Oh no! Osibus was back early! Malik increased his speed, running roughshod over the floor. He had to be finished or there was no library, no fame, no maidens fair. Huffing with effort, he swung the mop in wide arcs across the bumpy stones.
CRASH
Malik halted, slowly turning his head.
Oh bother, it was one of Osibus' crystal spheres. Better dispose of it before he came looking for him. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Malik hastily swept the shards into the corner, hiding them with a loose piece of parchment. There, all better.
Malik rushed outdoors to help Osibus with the horses and luggage.
He ran to the wizard's side, hands ready to assist him with his bags. Osibus was standing, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He was staring at something. Malik scanned the sky, in the direction of the wizard's gaze. High up beyond the wisps of clouds, a dark fissure had formed.
"What is it, my master?"
Osibus didn't turn, he didn't even look in his direction. With a weary sigh, Osibus finally spoke.
"You broke the orb of creation, didn't you."
Malik stammered, trying to apologize.
Osibus motioned for silence, still staring at the heavens.
"All that is, is now undone. Look upon your work, and despair."
The fissure grew, spawning dark tendrils that swarmed the sky.
