The Sorcerer's Vengeance (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  When she opened her eyes, she felt more stable and turned just in time to catch Malek as he stepped through and almost tumbled over the edge. Arms frantically wind milling, Malek breathed a sigh of relief when Maude grabbed the end of his war hammer and pulled him up straight.

  Borik warily stared at the shimmering rip in the air before him, not at all trusting such a mode of travel. “Maybe you could all go back and make, I don’t know, a flying boat or something and come back to pick me up. Just leave me the beer. I can eat one of them sandworms if I get hungry.”

  “It is perfectly safe, Borik. Maude and Malek are both on the other side ready to catch you if you fall. I have used it several times. Trust me, it’s safe.”

  “What if it closes before I get all the way through and half my leg stays here and the rest of me is way over there?”

  Azerick reached into his bag and pulled out a wineskin. “Do you know what this is, Borik? This is the last of our beer,” Azerick said before the dwarf could answer and promptly threw it through the portal where it slapped onto the narrow stone bridge.

  “Hey, what’d ya go and do that for!” Borik shouted as he darted forward, reaching for the skin.

  “Welcome across,” Malek said as the dwarf stepped onto the path and scooped up the thrown wineskin. “How is your balance?”

  “Eh? Oh fine, I got a low center of gravity,” Borik replied and showed off by hopping from one foot to the other while draining the wineskin.

  Azerick stepped through with little problem, being somewhat used to the aftereffects. The portal snapped shut as soon as Azerick crossed and they all walked single file toward the far end of the path. Maude had to lead since there was no room for anyone to get past.

  Azerick repeated both spells once more. A couple of the more aggressive sandworms tried to snap at the adventurers as they stepped upon the bridge but, they were mostly out of their striking range. Two of them got some deep wounds for their efforts thanks to Maude’s sword and Borik’s axe. The wounded creatures were immediately attacked and devoured by their cannibalistic brethren.

  Before they were halfway to the safety of the rocks, Azerick could no longer cast his stone spike and dimensional gate spell and was forced to tap into the power stored in his staff. If he had not been wearing the ring that Xornan had given him to fight in the arena, he would never have been able to make it across even with his staff.

  Azerick stepped through the gate and onto the path about five hundred yards from the low ridge of stone.

  “We have a problem,” Azerick said as he stepped through. “I don’t think I can cast both a stone spike spell and a dimension gate, and neither will get us all the way to the rocks by itself.”

  “How short will we be?” Maude asked.

  “My gate will get us the farthest so, a hundred yards give or take.”

  “We’ll never make it. Those things are on us almost the second we step through,” Malek pointed out.

  “Our only hope is to draw them off and try to make the run before they turn around and can catch us,” Azerick told them.

  “Can you draw them off?” Maude asked.

  “I think so. I should be able to use the runes in the staff to create a racket and strike the ground with rather significant force. It should be sufficient to get their attention.”

  “I would like to once more draw everyone’s attention to my short legs,” Borik said. “Dwarves are many things but fleet of foot is not one of them.”

  Maude smiled wryly at the dwarf. “Don’t worry, Borik, Malek and I will make sure you keep up. Go ahead and cast your spells, Azerick.”

  Azerick pushed up his sleeves, faced the opposite direction from their route of travel, and triggered several runes on his staff. About three hundred yards away, the minute moisture in the air froze solid, creating balls of ice the size of melons which plummeted from the sky and slammed into the ground sending sprays of sand several feet into the air. By the suddenly shifting sands, the party could see that the sandworms were all racing toward the sound of the disturbance. Sharp cries of pain screeched from dozens, possibly scores of mouths as the creatures were pummeled by the strikes.

  Azerick turned toward the distant ridgeline and spent the last of his and the staff’s power casting a gate spell. Maude, Malek, and Borik sprinted through the instant the gate snapped open and Azerick followed closely behind. Having the hundred-foot-tall ridge suddenly appear three hundred yards closer in a fraction of a second was by far the most disorienting experience they had experienced thus far. Even Borik staggered as his short legs pumped up and down as fast as he could make them go.

  Maude and Malek each grabbed one of the dwarf’s thick wrists and half carried him across the sand suspended between them like a child holding the hands of its parents. Azerick glanced behind him just as the last of the ice strikes crashed down. The moment the frozen barrage ceased, the sandworms sped toward the fleeing humans with relentless abandon.

  “Pick up the pace, people!” Azerick shouted.

  Azerick pulled out a scroll, read it on the fly, and released a searing bolt of lightning directly into the path of the pursuing worms. The electrical bolt blasted into the leading ranks of monsters closest to the surface. Those behind immediately tore into the wounded, drawn by their thrashing and screeches of pain. Still more continued their dogged pursuit but suffered deep gashes from the shards of glass the lightning created when it struck the sand. The uninjured sandworms ripped into those that had the bad luck of being cut by the glass shards.

  The sandworms were right on his heels and struck with frightening speed. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him up onto the rocks at the same time he swung his staff at one of the lunging beast. The sorcerer turned around and found himself standing between Maude and Malek several feet up the side of the ridge that surrounded the ancient fortress.

  “We made it! I really was not sure we would. I half expected to get stuck out in the middle with no way back or forward!” Azerick exclaimed, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath.

  “You didn’t think we would make it and you tried it anyway?” Borik demanded. “What in the fiery plains of the abyss is wrong with you wizards? Are you all crazy?”

  “A little bit I suppose, to varying degrees,” Azerick agreed lightly.

  “Let’s go find the horses and make camp. I don’t know about you all, but I’m exhausted and I don’t feel like traveling very far right now,” Maude suggested.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Azerick agreed. “Let’s get a little ways away from here before we make camp.”

  There was no argument as they set off to find a good place to collapse and bleed off the exhaustion they were all feeling.

  CHAPTER 2

  Zeb sailed north on the Iron Shark with his most experienced crew and the biggest, strongest men he could find in the city. As usual, Iron Shark drew strange looks whenever she came in or left port. The ship rode lower in the water when empty than many did when carrying a moderate load of cargo. Her iron-capped prow was not unheard of amongst warships designed to ram enemy vessels but was never seen on a merchant freighter. Coupled with the four sturdy booms, one on each end and sides of the ship, from which swung an iron spear point that must have weighed well over a thousand pounds apiece, she was an odd vessel to be sure.

  Oars stuck out of her sides like the legs of a centipede and propelled the ship out of the harbor, hard going even with her two masts full of sails to help propel it along. The oars were another thing that distinguished the Shark from other ships. Its oars were higher up the hull than normal and canted downward where they struck the water rather close to the ship’s sides. Inside, the oar handles angled so that the rowers still enjoyed, if the word enjoy could be used in conjunction with the onerous task of rowing, a natural angle and rowing stroke.

  Despite her great weight, the wind was good and blew strongly northward as it usually did this time of year, pushing the ship toward the frozen wastelands. Two weeks into thei
r voyage, the air was freezing and ice coated the deck, sails, and rigging. Men climbed the treacherous rigging, wielding flat paddles with which they beat the ropes and sails to clear away the ice that enveloped them.

  Many of the sails and much of the rigging had been taken down and the rowers put to work propelling the ship to avoid the large icebergs that began populating the sea. This is precisely why Zeb brought only his most experienced and trustworthy sailors. The slightest mistake and even the Shark’s reinforced hull could be torn out from under her by one of the floating mountains of ice.

  Zeb kept the ship pointed toward the rising, snow-covered granite peaks in the distance. This was his second year and he knew where to find the bay they would set anchor in and begin their hunting. Part of the crew stayed near the ship and set out in longboats to hunt the white fur seals whose soft pelts brought a fortune on the open market. He and Toron took the smallest contingent onto the land to hunt arctic foxes, snow hares, and the great ice bears.

  There was also some very good fishing to be had near the mouth of a large river that fed into the bay. The salmon’s rich pink flesh was highly coveted by all of the southern people that could afford it. The northern lands were harsh and unforgivable but rich in the bounty that it offered. Even now, a large pod of wolf whales swam next to the big ship, curious as to who had invaded their undisputed territory. Their great black and white forms undulated in and out of the water, occasionally displaying their grace and power by launching their huge, multi-ton bodies high enough into the air that some of the sailors were afraid they might one day leap onto the deck of the ship and devour them.

  Such was never the case. Even when the men went out in the longboats the sea wolves never acted aggressively even though they could easily shatter the vessel into splinters. Zeb and his crew spent three days watching the creatures hunt and found their intelligence and use of group tactics even more amazing than their awesome size.

  He and his men once watched in awe when a large seal tried to take refuge on a sheet of ice. Up to a dozen of the wolf whales charged toward the floating haven at incredible speed, all as perfectly aligned as a charging group of elite cavalry lancers. They breached the surface and pushed their bodies onto the edge of the ice sending a wave of water flooding across its surface until finally the hapless seal was washed over the side into the maws of the rest of the pod waiting on the other side.

  Even aboard this sturdy ship, the sea wolves had nothing to fear from the humans. Although the sailors did take an occasional whale or two, their kind was safe from the human’s predation as they lacked the large oil sacks of their kin that was so coveted. The wolf whales escorted the Iron Shark all the way into the bay before growing bored with the strange giant fish that swam atop the water and went to go find something to eat.

  It was late afternoon bordering on evening, which came rather early this time of the year, when they finally dropped anchor just two hundred yards from shore. They would wait until morning before setting out in their separate directions for the hunt. The shoreline was lost from sight by the thickening fog that rolled in before the night was able to steal it away first.

  “Captain Zeb,” Balor called out, “you might want to take a look at this.”

  The Captain had been on his way to his quarters located at a deck level below the low stern castle and arms room. Zeb turned around at his first mate’s beckoning.

  “What is it, lad?”

  “Look out there, maybe a quarter mile inland,” Balor instructed, pointing a finger out past the fog-blanketed shoreline.

  Zeb squinted at the dark, murky landscape. His vision was not as good as it once was, and although the cold evening air pushed the fog down to a height of five or six feet, it was still difficult for him to make anything out beyond a slight contrast in the few shrubs and pathetic trees that managed to sprout up far enough to peek out over the miasma.

  The mists parted just slightly and Zeb was able to barely make out what had attracted his first mate’s attention. “Ah, I see it. You make it out to be a small fire?”

  “Most likely; it flickers too much to be a lamp and is a bit large for a torch.”

  The mists closed back in and swallowed the only bit of color not white in the entire landscape. “Not much to see is it? I’m impressed you spotted it in this soup.”

  “It was Derran who brought it to my attention, otherwise I doubt I would have seen it myself,” Balor replied.

  “That figures. What I wouldn’t give to have that boy’s eyes. I’d trade him ten years of my experience for them and ten years of his youth. Make that fifteen,” Zeb said with a smile.

  “Who would be this far north, the Thule maybe?” Balor asked, referencing the small, tan-skinned nomadic people that lived at least part of the year in the most northern extremes of the known land and beyond.

  Zeb shook his head. “From what I know of them, which like most people is very little, they should be further east and south chasing the caribou herds. The Eislanders should be much further south this time of year, but I only know a little more of those people than I do the Thule. I do know enough that between the two we had better hope it’s a Thule party.”

  Balor nodded his agreement. The small Thule were a strange and reclusive people, but friendly when they chose to approach the few Utgardr, or southern people, that managed to travel that far north. The Eislanders on the other hand were the exact opposite. Fair of skin and hair, they were a huge and aggressive people, rivaling Toron in size and strength. The only thing that distinguished them from the dark-haired barbarians further to the south and east was a fair sophistication in ship and weapon manufacturing.

  Eislanders originally hailed from a series of rocky and inhospitable islands to the far north and hundreds of miles west of Valeria. However, in the past hundred years or so they established a few large settlements four or five hundred miles to the south of where they were now, near the coastline.

  They made occasional raids to the south as far as North Haven in the past, but the city has grown too large and the southerners’ ships too advanced for their pirating to be profitable. Most of their raids these days were limited to their barbarian neighbors and northern island nations closer to their ancestral homelands. At least those that still plied the seas.

  A few large groups had moved further inland, which created tensions between them and the scattered Akkadian barbarian tribes. The name Akkadian was a term used by the elves as a reference for all of the human barbarians of the northern great forest since the Akkadians themselves have no name for their people other than that used for individual tribes.

  The Akkadians could be dealt with fairly so long as you were invited into their territory. The few people that made the long and arduous journey far enough north to trade steel for raw gold or the occasional gems often had to camp for days just outside the nearest tribe’s territory, awaiting one of the tribal representatives to examine their goods and decide if they were desirable enough to allow them further into their territory where a temporary trade camp would be established miles from the nearest Akkadian village.

  Zeb seriously doubted that any Akkadian band had ventured this far north, far from their bountiful home ranges, but it was only slightly more unlikely than it being Eislanders. The only thing that Zeb could think of was that perhaps an Eislander or Akkadian had learned the value of the pristine white furs of the far northern animals and had struck out to bring such rare treasures home.

  If that were the case, then there should be little cause for conflict. Neither party would claim this remote land as a personal hunting ground. Eislanders may choose to raid them if they thought they had the numbers and the spoils were worth the potential losses. Akkadians were not above using bows in both hunting or warfare but Eislanders used missile weapons purely for hunting, disdaining their use in combat as a coward’s weapon which gave the sailors a slight advantage if it came to blows.

  As the two sailors pondered the significance of the campfire, several p
airs of blue eyes watched the ship’s lanterns from the shoreline, their heavy white and grey furs rendering them nearly invisible to anyone more than a few feet away. Large, calloused hands twisted on the smooth wooden hafts of the wicked battleaxes they carried.

  “What do you make of the Utgardr ship, Magni?” one of the powerfully built Eislanders asked. “Do you think they are the ones responsible and followed us north to continue their evil black magics?”

  “”I do not know, Modi,” the other replied through his thick, blond, braided beard, “but if they have, we will find out soon enough. Then we will spill so much of their blood that the snows will melt and the rivers will run red. By Djev’s radiant axe, I swear it!”

  There were no further signs of human life for the rest of the night nor was there in the morning as the sailors loaded up their longboats with the gear each party would need for their hunting forays. Zeb and Toron’s party required the most equipment despite being one of the smaller groups. One longboat was sufficient to ferry every man in the party to shore but three more were required to haul their gear.

  Balor led two longboats carrying two score of men that would go in search of seals out on the ice flows and perhaps a few small whales. The long spiraled tusks of the unicorn whale were especially prized and the meat, blubber, and oil were all prized on the southern markets as well.

  Another group of men in two longboats dropped nets near the mouth of the river and spent much of their days fishing for prized salmon, ensuring that the ship did not run into any trouble, and providing a rescue force if either of the other groups did not return at their scheduled time.

  Derran was also part of Zeb and Toron’s crew, his sharp eyes invaluable when it came to spotting prey. They and the nine burly rowers set about unloading the longboats. Sleds were assembled before strapping their gear onto them to make for easier traveling and hauling back the results of their hunting.

  Two tents, each with a small iron stove and a sack of coal provided their shelter and heat when wood was unavailable. Foodstuffs went on next, as well as spare clothing, rope, and traveling gear. Half the men carried heavy crossbows while the other half carried lighter and less-cumbersome crossbows for smaller game such as foxes and hares, reserving the powerful heavy crossbows for ice bears—or Eislanders if it came to a fight.