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

by Brock Deskins

  Zeb’s crew saw the tall masts of three more large ships against the darkness similar to the big war galleons they had battled just a few days before, anchored just off the docks. Guards patrolling the decks gathered near the rail and manned the heavy deck weapons as the schooner sailed slowly by.

  Their vigilance quickly proved to be for naught. Azerick cast another gate spell, stepped onto the deck of the warship, and captured most of the crew with incapacitating spells before they could even respond. Zeb’s men were quickly able to take the ship nearly without a sound. Only the occasional ring of steel on steel or the heavy thump of a body hitting the deck broke the stillness of the night.

  The same tactic proved as equally successful on two other ships at anchor. After having seized the ships, Zeb pulled the schooner up next to the dock to allow Azerick to disembark.

  “Remember, Zeb; get out of here by the time the sun breaks with or without me. The last thing you want to do is have a relief force arrive and sound the alarm.”

  “I got it, lad. You just be careful and get yourself back here before we go,” Zeb replied.

  “I will do my best, Zeb, and thank you. You have been a reliable friend. I could not have done all this without you and your men.”

  “Yeah ya could have, but thanks. Me and more than a few of us owe you our lives. It’s the least we can do. Besides, you own a majority stake in these tubs anyway!” Zeb returned.

  Azerick shook his head. “Whatever you think you owe me has been paid in full, Zeb. That goes for all of the men. I would certainly count this as above and beyond the call of duty,” Azerick smiled.

  “That’s what friends are for, lad. Now get going before ya make yourself late for your meeting.”

  Azerick and Zeb clapped each other on the back before the sorcerer stepped onto the dock and disappeared into the night.

  So we’re going to go kill this duke worm then? Klaraxis asked in anticipation.

  Actually, we are not. I intend to leave him alive. I just wish to have a talk with him.

  Talk with him? I saw your thoughts, your memories! I know what he has done and you are going to let him live? I understand that you are a weak-willed human without a proper thirst for blood and vengeance, but I expected better from you.

  I have something else in mind, Azerick told the demon and let him in on his thoughts.

  Oh, that’s beautiful! You are more insidious than I thought. I truly underestimated the spine of your vengeance. Bravo, you have the makings of a demon in you yet!

  Azerick ignored the rest of the demon’s words as he made his way toward Ulric’s castle. Perhaps it was the self-assured way he carried himself, or perhaps the men that hid in the shadows looking for easy prey felt the shroud of death that wrapped the young man walking boldly down the poorly-lit streets. Whatever the case was, no one dared accost him as he strode fearlessly down the cobbled streets toward the castle.

  ***

  Duke Ulric awoke with a start, his body breaking out in a cold sweat with the feeling that someone was in the room with him, watching him. The duke turned up the wick on the oil lamp next to his bed and furtively cast his eyes about the room. His heart caught in his throat as he spied the dark-cloaked figure sitting in his plush chair watching him. For a brief moment, Ulric thought it was the Rook, but as his eyes adjusted to the light he was able to see the prematurely aged young face behind the hood of the cloak.

  “Who are you, how did you get in here?” the duke demanded as he quickly gained his composure.

  Azerick dropped the hood of his cloak and revealed his face. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you do not recognize me even though I have been told that I resemble my father a great deal. I doubt such a man as you remembers the faces of a fraction of the men you have had murdered.”

  Ulric narrowed his eyes at the intruder. “What are you talking about? I am certain I have never seen you before in my life.”

  “You met my father once though. Perhaps if you look closely you will recognize him in me. No? Let me refresh your memory. Several years ago, you had men in Lazuul recover an artifact, part of Dundalor’s armor. You had them convince or trick a ship captain by the name of Darius Giles into bringing it to Southport. When the king’s men discovered it and arrested the captain, you had him murdered by an unsavory character that goes by the name of the Rook.”

  “How do you know of him?” Ulric demanded.

  He was getting nervous as this young man began talking of things that he should not know, things that could get him in a great deal of trouble if they were proven. No, he was safe from the king’s justice. North Haven would soon fall and Jarvin did not have the men to bring him to justice even if enough evidence of his treachery was brought forward. However, it would not be good to have this young man spreading these tales to the peasants and nobles. He would listen for a moment then call his guards and have him killed on the spot.

  “I know the Rook because your stupid cousin sent him to kill me after I inadvertently killed his son, Travis. He failed, as you can see by the fact that I am here now to seek my retribution,” Azerick stated without emotion.

  Gods, he killed the Rook? Can that be possible?

  If so, this man is far more dangerous than Ulric cared to even contemplate. Sweat began beading on his brow as he slowly slipped a leg from under the thick blankets to touch the cool floor with his foot, ready to move at a second’s notice.

  “Guards, assassin in my chambers, guards!” Ulric shouted as he sprang from the bed, a dagger clutched in his hand.

  Ulric backed away from the man who still sat comfortably in his chair, watching him as he crept slowly toward the door of his chambers.

  “Guards!” the duke shouted once more. “What have you done to my guards? Where are they?”

  “I have done nothing to them. They stand just outside the door, as vigilant as ever,” Azerick coolly responded.

  Ulric reached behind him with his free hand, not taking his eyes off the intruder, and tugged on the door but it would not budge. He turned toward it and used both hands without releasing the dagger and pulled harder then began pounding on the sealed portal and shouting for his guards when still it would not open.

  “You may as well save your voice; they cannot hear you and you will need it soon. It would be a shame for you to strain yourself when you have such an important speech to make tomorrow.”

  Ulric spun back toward the man in his chair. “What are you talking about, what speech?”

  Now Azerick stood and stepped slowly toward the duke, his eyes suddenly burning red as the duke tried to push himself backwards through the door.

  “Relax, Ulric, drop the knife. I am not going to harm you,” Azerick said smoothly.

  The dagger clattered to the floor at the duke’s feet, his utter obedience compelled by the young man’s hypnotic, dual-toned voice. One voice, smooth and higher in pitch than the other, seemed to mix with another much deeper and foreboding voice as if two people were talking at precisely the same time, speaking the exact same words.

  “That is better. Are you relaxed now?”

  Ulric nodded his head with a sheepish smile. “Yes, I’m fine now. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Just nervous I suppose. It has been a very stressful time for me you know.”

  Azerick returned his smile. “I know, Ulric, but that is all over now. Your forces have failed at North Haven. The city still belongs to the duchess and your men have been routed, but that is not important now.”

  “That is disappointing, but you are right, it is not so important. What do I do now? The king will have me banished, possibly executed for what I have done. I have done some very bad things and a lot of people are going to be angry with me,” the duke frowned.

  “I am going to tell you what you are going to do and it will make it all better. You will not have to fear the king or anyone else,” Azerick and Klaraxis intoned.

  Ulric nodded as Azerick told him what he needed to do. “That sounds reasonable,
thank you,” the duke said after Azerick finished speaking.

  “Good, ensure that you have your criers sent throughout the city so everyone will come to see you and hear what you have to say. We want a nice big crowd. That is important.”

  “Of course. I will have my seneschal send them out first thing in the morning and announce it every hour on the hour. In fact, I will have the watch send people to the square. I will make it mandatory to attend!” Ulric said earnestly.

  “Good, that should work very well. Make sure you get a good night’s rest. You want to look your best for tomorrow’s event,” Azerick said and stepped through the portal he summoned and disappeared.

  Yes, I must look my best. It is important, Ulric said to himself as he opened the door to his chambers.

  “Is everything all right, Your Grace?” the guard asked as the duke stepped out into the hall.

  “Oh yes, very well. Please send for Lord Alton at once and have him attend me here.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the guard replied without comment to the hour, quickly flagged down a servant, and relayed the duke’s command.

  A few minutes later, a light rapping sounded outside Ulric’s door. “Alton? Come in, quickly now. We must attend to some very important things right away. I am going to address my people. First, I need you to lay out my finest garments of state. Nothing too thick and cumbersome however; white silk would be best. Then you must send out criers to every corner and announce to all that I will be commencing a speech of profound importance at exactly noon tomorrow in Rose Plaza. Instruct the guard to urge everyone they see on the streets to attend or face a fine.”

  The old chamberlain shook his head at the duke’s rather impulsive request, but Alton had been chamberlain for the previous two dukes of Southport and he was ingrained to follow orders promptly and without hesitation.

  “Yes, Your Grace. I will see to it at once.”

  “Excellent, Alton, I shall leave the details in your capable hands. I must get some rest now. I must look my best for tomorrow’s address.”

  Alton selected the garments that would satisfy the duke’s wishes as Ulric slipped back into his bed and fell straight to sleep. Once Alton was satisfied that the clothing was suitable, he shuffled out of the rooms to carry out the rest of his orders.

  ***

  Azerick found himself in a richly appointed study standing just behind a man sitting in front of a warm fire in a high-backed, thickly padded chair sipping a glass of brandy despite the late hour. The man nearly spilled the entire contents of his glass upon the red silk and velvet house robe he wore when the cool metal of the extended blade of Azerick’s staff touched him lightly on the neck.

  Azerick walked slowly around to the front of the man that now sat frozen in his seat with only the trembling of his glass to show that he was alive at all.

  “Lord Beaumonte, we have some things to discuss, you and I,” Azerick told the man as he removed the gleaming arcanum blade from his neck and leaned upon the deep burgundy staff.

  “Wh—who are you?” the man asked nervously.

  Azerick shook his head and flashed a humorless smile. “It must be something that runs in the family. You and your cousin, the duke, seem to have a talent for ordering the murders of others without even knowing or remembering their faces.”

  A look of comprehension came across Lord Beaumonte’s face. “You are the one that murdered my son!” he hissed past his own fear.

  “No! I did not kill Travis,” Azerick said more softly. “Travis was killed by his own petty selfishness and the belief that his social status allowed him to act as he pleased. He thought he had the right to extort younger students, rape a young woman, and kill me because of the values you instilled. You are as guilty of his death as I am.”

  “That is nonsense! I raised him to be a man of breeding and power, all those things necessary for a leader of men, but you killed him with your cowardly sabotage!”

  “You taught him how to be nothing but a two-bit tyrant with the wealth to hire enough muscle to intimidate people into doing whatever he wanted. That is not a leader, that is a bully. A leader is able to get men to follow him through the strength of his convictions, character, and purpose! But you would not know about that sort of thing,” Azerick charged.

  “So what will you do now, kill me? Go ahead, you will be dead soon enough. I hired the best assassin in the known world to pay you back for your treachery, though why the Rook has not finished you off yet is beyond me. I paid him quite enough to ensure that it was carried out with due diligence,” Lord Beaumonte snapped back.

  “Ah yes, the Rook. He was a very frightening fellow wasn’t he? Let me tell you something. If you thought he was scary then I ought to terrify you. He died trying to fulfill your contract,” Azerick informed the lord with a dark smile of triumph.

  “He is dead? You killed him?”

  “I have killed many men, more than I care to count or think about, enough that I am willing to give you just one chance to go on and live your life, for whatever it is worth. Your cousin is going to give a speech tomorrow that people will be talking about for a very long time. I strongly suggest you attend so that you might learn what becomes of men who give in to their selfish desires, who attain their lofty positions of power by climbing the bodies and swimming through the blood of the people they killed to attain it. Listen well, and learn from his example if you wish to continue to live.”

  With that dire warning, the sorcerer stepped through a tear in the very air behind him and disappeared, leaving the lord to ponder his words and decide for himself what to do, and to put the fate of his life into his own hands.

  Azerick returned to the docks two hours before the sun rose and boarded Dolphin’s Grace for the return home. Four ships sailed quietly off into the night, their captives pitched overboard, and a single longboat dropped as an act of mercy just after they passed beyond the mouth of the bay.

  Azerick shuddered and felt physically ill when he thought about the use of such compulsion on another person; even one as vile as Ulric. It reminded him far too much of what Xornan did to him and that instantly brought back memories of Delinda. He tried to reconcile the need of what he did with the awfulness of the act, but nothing made him feel any better about it. Whatever, it was done now and he would not change it if he could.

  ***

  Throughout the morning, pages and runners ran from inn to inn to announce the mandatory attendance of Duke Ulric’s speech. Criers stood at every major intersection in the city repeating the same announcement several times every hour on the hour. As noon approached, the city watch was out in force clearing out taverns, inns, places of business, and herding anyone they found on the streets toward Rose Plaza located within the castle grounds.

  The tumultuous cacophony of thousands of voices drifted up through the open doors that led to the grand balcony where Ulric would soon give his citywide address. Alton was by his side trying to calm his lord, wishing that the duke would tell him something of what this was all about, but Ulric insisted that it must be him alone to reveal his message and he would do so only to the people as a whole.

  “It is nearly time, Your Grace,” his chamberlain informed him quietly.

  “Very good, Alton, please leave me and join the crowd down below. Of course you will stand at the head of the other nobles of the city,” Ulric instructed.

  Alton’s aged hand trembled slightly as he raised it toward the duke. “I thought I might listen from here in case you needed me, Your Grace.”

  “No, my loyal chamberlain, you must join the others in the courtyard. I will be all right, I promise you.”

  Duke Ulric was left alone to gather his thoughts as he paced nervously within his rooms as the time grew near, then boldly stepped out onto the balcony. The chaotic noise of the populace turned into subdued murmuring then ceased altogether as Duke Ulric stepped out upon the balcony and raised his hands for silence. He looked down at Alton and the assembled nobles then spread his gaze o
ut over the sea of pressed bodies all eagerly awaiting his proclamation.

  “People of Southport and guests from throughout the land,” Duke Ulric called out in a loud but clear voice, his words carrying with perfect resonance thanks to the skillful engineering of those who had built the courtyard. “I come to you today to confess my sins and divulge the wrongs I have committed against my citizens, my neighbors, and the kingdom itself.”

  The stillness of the courtyard was drowned out in the frenzied questioning and murmurings of several thousand people. It took several minutes for the duke and the guards below to restore the peace enough for him to continue.

  “I have committed numerous and grievous crimes, far too many for me too list them all. It was I who ordered the poisoning of the late Duke of North Haven over ten years ago, arranged the assassination of Duke William of Brightridge, as well as our former king.”

  It took a full ten minutes to restore order after Duke Ulric’s confession. When the crowd was once again quiet and able to contain themselves, Ulric continued.

  “I tricked a local merchant named Darius Giles into smuggling an illegal artifact into the city with a set of forged documents supposedly from the King, then I had him murdered when he was discovered to ensure that no suspicion was cast my way. I sent my own soldiers to acquire the pieces of Dundalor’s armor so that I could challenge the King for the throne, going so far as to slaughtering his special guard and recover any pieces they had in their possession. I also paid men to try to kidnap Lady Miranda of North Haven so that I might force her into a marriage and one day eliminate the duchess and gain power over the northern city.

  “When that failed and the men I had sent after the armor turned against me, I hired mercenaries to pillage several smaller towns of the kingdom so that I could ride in and appear to drive them away in order to gain the favor of the populace. The battles were staged and nearly every casualty the invaders suffered was faked. I even sent them against Groveswood and allowed them to plunder the wealthy town full of some of our most esteemed nobles as payment for the services of the mercenaries as well as to add those noblemen’s influential voices to my group of supporters when I made my bid for the crown.