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

by Brock Deskins

  Several of the plum-sized beetles pierced the wizards’ wards and sunk their mandibles into their pasty flesh, interrupting the lethal spells they were casting. Only their training and concentration saved them from even more grievous damage. The two archmages put the painful bites to the back of their minds long enough to cast another spell. The black scarabs that sought to burrow their way through the wizards’ flesh burst apart with small flashes of flame before the wizards bent their minds back toward blasting the upstart sorcerer to bits.

  Magus Bauer completed her spell with a sneer of contempt for the former academy student. A dozen luminous orbs flared into existence around her and streaked out at the sorcerer. Missile after missile slammed into the possessed sorcerer. He lost count of how many had gotten through his wards but it felt like the punishing barrage was never going to end as the bolts of energy pounded into his body, driving him to his knees.

  Azerick was barely able to keep himself from falling face first into the cold, sodden ground. His entire body ached as if he had been trampled by a herd of horses then thrown down several flights of stairs. His eyes could not even focus on the ground just an arm’s length from his face. His lungs battled to pull in some air before he lost consciousness but they seemed determined to disobey his mental commands.

  Klaraxis, if you want to live long enough to kill these people you had best do something quickly.

  You will have to give me more control, human. Let me off my leash and I will show these mortals the true meaning of pain!

  Azerick had already given the demon all the freedom he was comfortable with, far more actually, but he was going to die here if he did not let Klaraxis have his way. Azerick knew he was too beaten to defend himself on his own.

  He felt his senses sharpen and his body gain unimaginable strength as he slipped off the demon’s mental leash. Klaraxis rose to his feet with a laugh so loud, evil, and full of such dark hatred that the soldiers who were beginning to advance balked under his malevolent glare. Death radiated from his body like an icy cold wind.

  The soldiers charged at him once more but a dark red pulse of pure hate surrounded him and beat with the rhythm of his own heart. Several of the soldiers that stepped within its pulse dropped dead with a rictus of horror and pain frozen onto their faces. Those of stronger heart and constitution died upon the tip of Azerick’s staff or had their skulls pulped by a single powerful blow from his bare hand.

  Allister was suddenly standing near him with a look of concern and fear for his young friend and former pupil, but he could not afford to spare him much thought as the wizards prepared to unleash more powerful and lethal spells.

  The two tower wizards relied upon their Academy associate to deal with the young sorcerer and focused their attention on the old archmage. Twin beams of brilliant death lanced out and struck the wizard’s wards with incredible force. Allister was almost blinded from the flash of his own wards as they struggled to stave off the death-dealing beams of power.

  Showing remarkable agility for a man his age, Allister dove and rolled to his left away from the rays. He did not bother to attempt to stand, instead unleashing a powerful blast of lightning that forked to strike both opposing wizards, causing their own wards to flare brilliantly under the assault.

  The demon stretched his fist out and pointed it at Captain Crayhill. With a splaying of the demon’s fingers, the enemy commander’s body burst apart. The bone fragments and concussive explosion struck a dozen men and sent them sprawling to the ground all around the floating red mist that was all that was left of the captain’s body.

  Klaraxis’ glare blazed red behind Azerick’s once hazel eyes, fixing Magus Bauer in place with his malevolent stare, the words of her incantation freezing in her throat that suddenly went dry. The wizard’s chin quivered in terror as she felt the demonic presence destroy her will. In the very last agonizing moments of her life, she realized what she stood against and knew they had never stood a chance.

  Klaraxis raked his fingers through the air before him. Though he was still several yards from the magess, her flesh was shredded with every swipe of his hand as if an invisible lion were raking her with its claws. Her throat loosened enough that her piercing shriek of unimaginable pain cut through the din of battle even as far away as the keep itself.

  The demon lord tore strip after strip of flesh from the wizard as if he were pealing an orange, slowly and methodically savoring the pain and terror he could feel deep within his black soul. Soldiers began to turn and flee but the two dark wizards made one more attempt to destroy the two men against them.

  The tall, black-robed wizard stretched his hand out toward Allister to release arcane destruction upon the archmage, but just as he was about to utter the final word of command, an arrow sprouted from his thin neck. The wizard looked about dumbly, not quite comprehending what had just happened for several seconds before folding to the ground.

  The shorter, heavier archmage released his spell just before his companion toppled but was thrown off his aim when a streak of blackness struck him in the chest and clamped its jaws around his throat. Ghost tore the man’s throat out with a quick jerk of his head before sprinting after a fleeing soldier and taking him down from behind.

  Wolf gave chase along with Ghost, sending arrow after arrow streaking into the backs of the fleeing men faster than he drew breath. His packed quiver was nearly drained of the score of arrows it usually held in less than a minute, every one of the steel-headed shafts finding the flesh of the fleeing men.

  Allister sent fire and lightning after the soldiers that fled, leaving none of them alive to ever do harm or threaten another again. He turned to Azerick, his eardrums ringing with the shrieking of Magus Bauer’s agony. Her robes had been stripped from her body along with nearly every square inch of pale, white flesh. Her blood melted the crushed snow beneath her body and soaked the earth until it was as black as the demon’s heart, yet still she lived and still she screamed in an agony so great that the gods themselves must be cringing in their celestial palaces.

  “Azerick,” Allister cautiously addressed his young friend. “Azerick, listen to me. That is enough. Let her go, let her die. Azerick, I said that is enough!” The old archmage shouted, strode forward, and grabbed the sorcerer’s arm.

  The pulsing ring of evil and hate still surrounding Azerick caused the old mage to gasp and clutch his chest but he did not let go of Azerick’s arm. The screaming suddenly stopped and the magus’s body collapsed to the ground in a raw heap of flesh when the demon spun on Allister and struck him in the chest with the palm of his hand, sending the archmage sprawling in a heap several feet away. Klaraxis took two long strides forward and raised the spear-headed staff, poised to pin the foolish old man to ground.

  “Azerick, get control of yourself,” Allister told him calmly, looking up into the burning red eyes of the demon. “Do not let him control you, you are stronger than him. It is your body and your mind, not his. Do not let him take that from you.”

  Allister could sense the battle that was taking place behind the eyes of the young sorcerer. He knew that as long as Azerick could fight there was no force that could subjugate him for long, and he breathed a sigh of relief even before the internal battle was ended.

  All right demon, get back in your cage. You have done quite enough.

  That is where you are wrong, little sorcerer. It will never be enough. There is not enough blood in the world to slake my thirst, but it will suffice for now. It was a good fight.

  Azerick looked around and saw Wolf, Ghost, and Allister staring at him expectantly. He reached a hand down to help Allister to his feet, which the old wizard gratefully accepted.

  “I am sorry, Allister,” Azerick said abashed and frightened at his actions. “There are things I have neglected to tell you.”

  Allister embraced his friend and clapped him on the back. “We will speak of it later, son. Let’s go help our friends first.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The gate
s split asunder under the relentless pounding of the ram at almost the same moment Allister and Azerick gated behind the wizards and their guard element. One-half of the gate tumbled to the flagstones with a heavy thump, the other managed to cling tentatively by one hinge near the top.

  The ram crew pushed the ponderous siege engine back away from the breach to allow the waiting soldiers access into the fortified compound.

  The waiting cavalry pushed past their foot-bound brethren in hopes of gaining the honor of spilling the first blood. All of the side streets had barriers of wood and stone erected to prevent the enemy from running freely throughout the compound. The soldiers were unconcerned about it, trusting that their numbers were far too superior to allow any kind of successful ambush. The footmen chased after the swifter moving horses with battle cries of incoherent sounds and promises of death.

  The main boulevard was littered with wagons turned onto their sides, requiring the riders to steer around the obstacles, slowing the horses down but only slightly as they raced to the large open courtyard in front of the tower.

  The experienced soldiers expected rows of pikemen or archers to try and break their charge but the grounds seemed deserted. Many began to realize that they were preparing for the actions experienced soldiers would take and recalled that this was some sort of school or orphanage despite its apparent militancy.

  It was likely that everyone was hiding inside the tower, as if they could find safety there. They would probably entreat for surrender and mercy but they would get none. The mercenaries had no time for such niceties.

  The ram crew cleared away the shattered gates and forced the siege engine through the breach toward the sealed tower doors. The commander of the ram crew shouted for some of the infantrymen to clear a route through the wagons so the nearly non-maneuverable ram could get at the tower unimpeded.

  Men pushed and pulled at the wagons, righting them so they could wheel out of the way as the ram slowly rolled forward while the commander shouted for the footmen and horses to clear out of the way.

  The street was not much wider than the gates, which allowed little more than enough clearance for the ram to squeeze through. The mass of soldiers wanting blood actually hindered the progress of their own ram. Several men standing below the tower became impatient and began hacking at the doors with heavy axes.

  Inside the tower, the children and adults listened to the pounding of the axes on the door and many of the younger ones wailed in fright.

  Sandy looked at the mass of children she was with and tried to reassure them. “Don’t worry, little humans, any bad men that get through those doors I’m going to bite and scratch them real good! They will learn what it means to anger a sand dragon.”

  The ram had made it less than halfway to the tower when there was a screech of metal, a short rumbling, and a heavy thump behind them where the gates once stood. A few men in the open rear of the ram looked behind them at the sound and saw two massive stone blocks with what appeared to be a dozen steel wheels of a mining cart beneath them, roll together from the sides of the avenue, slamming together and completely sealing the opening.

  None of the enemy had paid any heed to the steel rails that were set flush with the flagstones running parallel to the gate, or that the street here had been built with a slight decline toward the center. The two massive stone blocks looked like nothing more than part of the wall until the retaining pins were knocked loose from a hidden corridor behind them. A chain with links the size of a large ship’s anchor chain was attached to the ends of each block. The chains ran through the sections of wall that was now revealed. It would take a team of draft horses to reset each block to reveal the blocked egress.

  The moment the blocks slid into place, defenders sprang up from the rooftops and began pelting the trapped army below them with arrows and large stones. From the crenellated rooftops and tower, a rain of arrows showered down upon the mercenaries who had shouldered their own bows and drawn their swords in anticipation of melee combat.

  Atop the tower, Aggie sent a bolt of lightning into a mass of riders that arced out between them, slaying half a score of them at once. Rusty sent bolts of fire into the ranks of men in a continuous barrage, this time with full effect, raking it across one enemy after another. Joshua and Umair unleashed their own formidable magic against the press of mercenaries that were quickly beginning to panic amidst the magical killing storm that came crashing down upon them.

  Maira, the former Black Tower adept, had a vengeful gleam in her eye as she directed more killing magic from another rooftop as she stood beside a half dozen younger boys wielding crossbows. The students knew that they could expect no mercy and none knew that better than the former Black Tower apprentices, so they had no qualms in not showing their enemies any in return.

  Despite the sheer volume of killing fire, electricity, and magical energy, there was still an enormous amount of enemy below them and they could not hope to kill them all in a single stroke although scores died by the minute. Some of the cavalrymen used their horses to kick and tear down some of the flimsier wooden barricades blocking the alleyways between the buildings and fled down them in search of a way to reach the defenders.

  The men on the ground found shelter where they could, darting behind the erected barricades, buildings, and sometimes kicking in a door or climbing through a window to escape the death being dealt from above.

  Some of the boys next to Maira spun about in time to see a couple of mercenaries clamoring onto the rooftop behind them. They turned and fired their crossbows into the faces of the first two that breached the top, then were forced to throw them down and draw their swords as more of the enemy tried to gain the roofs. The same scene was unfolding across the roofs of several other buildings where more of the young men and women fought to defend their school and their home.

  A huge mercenary wielding a massive double-headed axe finally chopped through the stout door leading into the tower. A few more swings and he had a hole large enough to stick through his large, helmed head.

  “I’m coming, little kiddies! I’m gonna eat the flesh from your bones!” he shouted through the breach and resumed hacking through the portal.

  Another minute and the ruined doors swung wide, allowing the tide of mercenaries another route to escape the slaughter that was happening in the courtyard. The large mercenary with the axe took his weapon to the inner doors that lay at the end of the foyer. These were an ornate set of carved doors and were not built to withstand any sort of attack. A few swings cleaved the bolt securing them and scores of frightened and furious killers swarmed into the reception hall.

  “I found ya, ya little vermin!” the burly mercenary shouted gleefully as he looked at the top of the stairs where Ellyssa, Sandy, and a few other of the younger magus students waited.

  “You have found only your death here, scum,” Ellyssa called down with only a trace of fear in her young voice.

  The apprentice raised a slim wand and spoke a word of command. A small ball of fire streaked from the end of the wooden rod then detonated amongst the leering man and the first group of his murderous band that came through the door behind him. The fireball sent men flying in all directions, filling the reception hall with the sickly scent of burnt flesh and hair, but scores more began pouring in like water from a breached dam.

  Roger and Missy raised their own wands and sent lightning bolts and darts of arcane energy tearing into the rushing tide of bodies but there was too many to be stopped. They were so close now that Ellyssa had to aim behind the men in the front-most ranks so as not to scorch her or her friends with the next fireball she unleashed.

  The children were forced to scramble back up the stairs to avoid the swing of a mercenary that managed to clamor up the steps just below them. Ellyssa jumped back but tripped and fell over the step behind her and watched in terror as the man loomed over her, ready to plunge his sword into her young body.

  A flash of glittering scales flew over her and struck the m
ercenary in the chest. Wings extended, Sandy sailed over the prone girl in a semi-controlled glide and sunk her four-inch long talons, the hardest and sharpest of almost any dragon species, deep into his chest. Her snake-like neck whipped down and took the mercenary in the throat, instantly ending his struggles.

  The furious little dragon felt a flash of pain as another mercenary stabbed at her with his sword. The blade skipped off her hard, shiny scales but still managed to bite through enough to raise a line of blood. Sandy hissed in anger and darted forward with the reflexes of a pouncing cat before the man could recover. The sand dragon reared on her hind legs and raked her razor-sharp fore-claws through the attacker’s chain throat guard. Blood sprayed into the eyes of the nearest mercenaries charging up the stairs behind him when he spun away and tumbled down the steps.

  “Sandy, get back here!” Ellyssa shouted from higher up the stairs, ready to retreat to the roof where Aggie and the others were still pouring death down onto the forces below the tower.

  Sandy took advantage of the mercenaries’ troubles as they slipped in the blood-coated stairs and bounded up to where her friends waited for her. Ellyssa looked down into the crowded reception hall and at the men swarming up the stairs and knew that they could never make it to safety. There were too many stairs to climb between them and the roof and only one flimsy door to slow them down. The men were simply too strong, too fast, and too many.

  Just as a wall of mercenaries closed within a few feet of where Ellyssa was holding the door for Sandy, a translucent form floated up through the solid wooden stairs, her shimmering robes and long spectral hair flowing about in a breeze that no one living could feel.