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

by Brock Deskins

  With little other choice, Azerick followed Klaraxis through a doorway that was more than large enough to allow the enormous demon to pass through without fear of even coming close to scraping the wing joints that peaked over his shoulders and head. They descended a long flight of stairs and stopped before an ornate door that looked to be made of solid bronze.

  The door swung open at a touch from the demon and Azerick followed him into a room that looked much like Azerick’s own vault chamber.

  “Here is where I keep all of my most precious artifacts. Since you will be residing as a shade here for, oh, about an eternity, I thought you might like to amuse yourself by looking at them and studying them. Of course as a shade you will not be able to interact with them, but I think it is a fair trade in exchange for what you are giving me. Would you not agree? No? Well I suppose I might feel I was getting the short end of the deal if I were in your place, but since I am not I feel quite good about it,” Klaraxis chuckled.

  The demon began pointing out some of the more significant artifacts in the room, where he had gotten them, and whom he had to kill to get them. He pointed to a black-bladed shortsword that hung on the wall.

  “This is by far my most prized possession,” Klaraxis told Azerick. “With that sword I can trap the soul of any creature, even a god. I hope to put it to use one day, preferably against that damnable Solarian.”

  He retrieved a clear glass or crystal sphere from a velvet-padded box sitting on a shelf.

  “I suppose it is time for the show to come to an end,” the demon said as heavy black chains suddenly erupted from the wall and wrapped themselves around Azerick’s wrists and ankles.

  Azerick backed away as the demon walked toward him until his back struck the wall a couple feet behind him. He knew he was only going to have one chance at what he planned, so he waited until Klaraxis stood just before him and pressed the crystal orb lightly against his forehead.

  Azerick reached out with his power, using a spell similar to the one that he had used to hurl the stones at the cambion, but this time he pulled rather than pushed. Since the distance between him and the object was greater it took more effort to achieve the effect, but the sinister black shortsword suddenly flew from the wall and into his outstretched palm. Azerick thrust the blade forward without hesitating. The demon’s eyes widened in surprise as the blade sunk deep into his bare flesh just above where a human, or most any another creature born of a mother, would have had a naval.

  Azerick felt a burning in his hand and tried to drop the sword but his fingers would not release their grip. Either that or the sword would not release his hand. The sorcerer felt an evil intelligence emanating from the blade and held his body immobile. Klaraxis’s knees finally bent and he fell kneeling onto the floor in front of Azerick, still looming over him when the room filled with a deep, gratified laugh. The demon prince toppled to the side but the laughter continued and it took several moments before Azerick realized it was coming from his own mouth.

  He tried to scream but could only continue laughing as he felt himself being forced from his own body. Blackness once again overcame him as he could no longer see out of his own eyes.

  Klaraxis looked at his fallen body through his new eyes as the chains uncoiled from around his wrists and ankles. Far above on another plain, five wizards watched as the five braziers’ flared black flames for several seconds before returning to their normal orange glow.

  CHAPTER 15

  Joshua paced the long, gloomy hall outside the summoning room just in case his mistress needed him to perform some task. His conscience warred with his inability to do anything regardless of how he felt about the situation. He heard the sorcerer shriek a long and frightful scream but he had heard nothing more for many minutes now. Not even the droning chant of the archmages slipped under the crack of the thick door.

  Unable to stand it any longer, he stalked down the hall and into the library where he saw Aggie behind her desk as usual though looking a bit fretful.

  “Ah, Jonathan, I’m glad you stopped by,” the senile old librarian said as he walked into the room.

  “It’s Joshua, Aggie,” the apprentice reminded her as he had so many times.

  It was funny how she would always get his name wrong but could tell you where every book was within the library and what it contained.

  “Joshua Aggie! Why you have the same last name as my first name,” she cackled.

  “No, Aggie, it’s just Joshua.”

  “Well, whatever you want to call yourself, I am glad you’re here. I seem to have lost the key to my desk drawer and I could use a good spell caster to get it open for me. I used to know a nice little spell that would do the trick but I’ve forgotten it over the years.”

  “I’m sorry, Agatha, but I don’t have that one prepared at the moment,” Joshua informed her.

  Aggie waves a gnarly old hand dismissively. “No need to fret, this is a library for heaven’s sake,” she said and began sifting through sheets of velum and paper scattered across her desktop. “I have a scroll around here that should do the trick.”

  She picked up one of the scrolls and pressed it nearly against her nose before shoving in Joshua’s face. “What does this one say at the top?”

  Joshua told her and she waved her hand once more as if she were shooing away a fly. “No, no, that one would unlock everything from shackles to a dimensional portal. This is just a desk, not a wizard’s ward,” she dismissed and began picking through the scrolls once more. “Ah, I think this is the one! Tell me what this one says.”

  Joshua took the scroll from her and read its title.

  “That’s the one! Be a dear and use it to unlock my desk for me,” Agatha asked.

  Joshua read the scroll, its scribbled runes flaring away to nothingness as he recited the magical words. He was familiar with this particular spell and had no trouble using the scroll to unlock the desk drawer. He heard the click of the locking mechanism release the instant he read the last word on the scroll.

  The old librarian opened her desk drawer with a little shout of triumph. “Well there’s my key, right in the drawer. Now how did I manage to lock that in there without having the key?” she asked herself distractedly. “Oh well, such mysteries can wait to be solved until after my lunch,” she said as she pulled out a large salami and cheese sandwich and took a full bite.

  “You want a taste?” she offered Joshua, pointing the end of her sandwich at him.

  “No thanks, Aggie,” he replied and walked out of the door.

  Joshua resumed his pacing glancing down at the scroll he still held in his hand every few steps.

  ***

  “Skunk!” Klaraxis shouted. “Skunk, get your worthless hide down here, do you hear me?”

  “Of course I hear you, everybody between here and the third circle of the abyss can hear you,” Skulk muttered as he flew down the stairs and through the hall. “Skulk would have to be deaf not to hear you. Hm, not a bad idea. Maybe Skulk can jab his eardrums out so he does not have to listen to big-mouthed, cow-headed demon lord.”

  Skulk fluttered through the huge bronze door that still stood open. “Yes, oh magnificent lord of the under—balls of fire he’s dead! Puny human done killed da big horn-headed blattazuu’s rump! Oh joyous days, Skulk’s dreams have come true!” Skulk cried joyously and began dancing a jig on the demon lord’s chest.

  “Skunk, get off my chest,” Klaraxis told the demog who was busy shaking his posterior in the face of the demon prince’s body, making flatulent noises with his tongue.

  Skulk bit off his raspberries with a squeak and looked at the sorcerer with his black tongue sticking out between his pressed lips. Skulk looked between the human and the seemingly dead Klaraxis, which he was still squatting over, in confusion. The demog flapped up and peered intently into each of Azerick’s eyes then rapped on his forehead with his knuckles.

  “You in there, oh prince of darkness whom Skulk serves with utmost loya—ack!” Skulk’s words were q
uickly cut off by Klaraxis’s new hand being wrapped around his scrawny throat.

  “I should tear your wings off, followed by your arms, legs, and finally your brainless little head for that display,” Klaraxis threatened with a low growl. “But I have a more important use for you. First, you will go and summon two of my tar’raun’atu to heft my body onto that stone slab. Then you will be responsible for ensuring that no one disturbs me or my possessions for the next one hundred years while I bring about a reign of torture and misery for the feeble inhabitants of the mortal world.”

  “Yes, great demon lord. Prince Klaraxis is wise to know that Skulk is his most loyal and adoring subject with which to trust such an important honor,” Skulk croaked past the demon prince’s crushing grasp.

  “Trust?” Klaraxis laughed. “Hardly, you little dung pile with wings. I know that you are too much a coward and too feeble to attempt to destroy my body and usurp my throne while I am away.”

  “Dat too, your benevolent wickedness.”

  “Now go get my porters to lift me off this floor,” Klaraxis commanded and slung Skulk through the doorway to smack heavily into the wall before he could arrest his uncontrolled flight.

  “Stupid, pasty-faced, human skin-wearing, demon squatter. Bad enough he think Skulk is scouring maid, stupid human think Skulk is doorman, now he supposed to be some kind’a mortician to take care of his stinkin’ body. He thinks he can just throw Skulk against da wall like he is stupid little puppy, and den I’m supposed ta just sit around and watch his stinkin’ corpse collect dust? Just you wait, Skulk gonna get his revenge, make him regret ever throwing Skulk around.”

  Skulk returned with the two hulking tar’raun’atu. The tar’raun’atu were massively muscled, wingless demons who were nearly as wide as their eight-foot frames were tall. They had long ringed horns like a gazelle jutting slightly backwards from their bristly, black-haired heads. Their ridiculously muscled arms were so long that their knuckles literally dragged the ground. Their enormous strength was only equaled by their stupidity.

  “Pick up my body and lay it gently upon the slab,” Klaraxis instructed the two brutes.

  If the demonic duo was surprised to find the body of their prince lying seemingly dead upon the floor with his voice coming out of the mouth of a human they gave no sign of it. They simply bent down and lifted the thousand plus pound demon prince up as if he were a sleeping child and placed him on the black stone table as they were instructed.

  “Face up, you imbeciles!” Klaraxis growled irritably.

  The two tar’raun’atu righted the lifeless body of their liege then stared at him expectantly.

  “You may go now,” he told them with forced patience then turned to Skulk. “You will guard my body with your life, Skunk,” he repeated.

  “Oh joy of joys! Skulk is most happy to sit on the cold corpse of the Lord of lies, the Duke of degeneracy, the Emir of immorality, the—.”

  “Shut up, Skunk, and if you so much as touch my body I will tear one of your wings off and laugh as I watch you fly in circles!”

  Klaraxis turned to leave but spun back around as soon as he stepped through the door and narrowly missed catching Skulk shoving one of his fingers up his body’s nostril and sticking his tongue out at him as he walked away. The prince of demons glared at the innocently hovering demog and returned to his throne.

  Klaraxis sat back on his throne of bones, waved a hand over an upturned skull in the arm of the throne, and saw Shakrill’s expectant face in its reflection.

  “It is complete and I am ready.”

  “Excellent, my demonic prince, we are prepared to bring you to your new home,” Shakrill replied excitedly.

  “He is ready,” Shakrill informed the other wizards and led the chanting of the complex spell that would bring the soul back from the abyss and return it to the vessel.

  Klaraxis felt a moment of disorientation before his new body seemed to leap from the throne and fly upwards at an incredible rate. He looked down and saw his mighty fortress dwindle to a black speck amidst a rosy field before disappearing entirely. Before he was able to comprehend the sensation fully, he found himself staring up at a black ceiling just above the heads of the five humans looking down at him.

  “Welcome, Klaraxis, we have all been eagerly awaiting your arrival so that you may lead us to our rightful place of domination, my beloved demon lord,” Shakrill crooned.

  Klaraxis looked at his wrists and down at his ankles, giving the chains a test tug. Had he been in his demon body he could have snapped the feeble restraints with ease, but stuck in this form some of his powers, most notably his physical prowess, were greatly diminished. But not his innate magical power, as these foolish wizards were about to learn.

  Klaraxis called upon his demonic source of power only to find it beyond his grasp. His mouth opened in mute surprise at the sudden understanding that he was helpless and realized that these were no ordinary chains. Somehow, they managed to block his ability to reach back to the abyss, the source of his infernal magic. He tried to access the sorcerer’s Source and found that it too was beyond his grasp.

  “What have you done, Shakrill? How am I too aid you in your ascension when you have bound me and my power?” the demon asked, trying to control the rage he desperately wanted to unleash on these fools.

  “Calm yourself, my prince. It is but a temporary measure until we come to a full understanding of one another,” the wizard said then bent down next to his ear and whispered, “or should I say Dur’ar’ang’sen.”

  Every muscle in the demon’s new body went into spasm at the sound of his soulname.

  “How do you know that, you traitorous bitch?” Klaraxis grunted through the pain.

  “How is not important. It is only important that you know that I am the only one who knows it, for now,” Shakrill told the demon with a wry smile.

  Well, she was the only one until she just told me, Azerick’s voice suddenly sounded through his own mind.

  What, how? I destroyed you! I replaced your soul! How are you still here? Klaraxis demanded.

  I made a vow that no one would ever control my mind and body ever again, demon, now take a seat while I get us out of here.

  Like hell I will! I am in control of this body, it is mine, and I will never give it up!

  You were never in control, you disgusting boisterous braggart, now shut up while I think! Azerick commanded the demon.

  Klaraxis shrieked in impudent rage as Azerick forced his essence to the far reaches of his mind. Azerick quickly found that his connection to the Source was indeed severed so long as these shackles remained. He decided he would simply have to wait until an opportunity presented itself, which it did as Joshua came bursting through the door, reading from a scroll he held in his shaking hands.

  “Joshua, what do you think you are doing? I did not summon you!” Shakrill screamed at her apprentice.

  Just then, the magical bonds that held him to the floor and blocked his access to the Source slipped off as the metal shackles fell to the floor with a clank.

  “What have you done, you stupid little fool?” Shakrill asked hoarsely, fury lacing every syllable.

  With a great smile of triumph, Azerick leapt impossibly fast to his feet from his fully reclined position and brought Klaraxis out of the darkness to which he had banished him.

  All right, demon, do you want to make these people pay? Then let’s do it and do not try to fight me.

  The smile on the sorcerer’s face took on an even more menacing cast as Azerick’s hazel green eyes suddenly glared with a red, evil glint.

  Azerick called his staff to hand and felt its reassuring power slap into his palm. He raised the weapon high and struck its gleaming shaft onto the floor. A burst of power exploded out from around him with such force that the wizards were sent sprawling and the braziers were extinguished in a cloud of sparks. Even Joshua, who was further from the heart of the blast, was sent flying back through the open door and landed heavily against th
e wall.

  Azerick shouted a word of command and called forth every ward he knew, instantly shielding his body with a series of spells strung together to be brought up at once. Several illusory duplicates sprang up around him and his body was invigorated with a sudden burst of energy that increased his reflexes even beyond the unnatural speeds that Klaraxis’s possession instilled in him. Such a casting would normally be exhausting, but the demonic possession seemed to give Azerick an immense well of power from which to draw upon.

  The sorcerer stretched out a hand and sent his electrical beam into the chest of the master of the Black Tower, instantly searing a massive hole through him before he even got halfway through the spell he was trying to cast. An intensely hot jet of flame splashed harmlessly against Azerick’s demonic-reinforced wards. The demon Klaraxis stretched out a hand and a black ray lanced through the wizard’s body, turning it into a desiccated husk.

  Another wizard tried to cast a binding but his efforts were futile against the dual spirits that now resided within one body. Azerick imitated the previous wizard’s attack and sent a hellish stream of liquid fire into the archmage’s torso, incinerating his body and melting the black stone behind him.

  Another archmage tried to grab the sorcerer with hands that were wreathed in a black flame. Klaraxis dodged the grapple, grabbed the foolish wizard by the wrist, and slammed him repeatedly against the stone wall until he slumped down, leaving behind a bloody streak.

  Azerick stood over the cowering form of Shakrill, holding up her arm that had appeared to have grown a second elbow. “Klaraxis, please,” the wizard pleaded. “I never meant to betray you, I swear! Together we can conquer the world; no one can stand against us! I only learned and used your soulname so that you would not betray me,” she whimpered, wondering why the use of the demon’s soulname failed to control him.

  “And for that I am truly grateful, Shakrill. It makes controlling the demon much easier,” Azerick replied with a grim smile.