The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4

by Brock Deskins

  Rusty was still asleep when he returned to his room with the bundle of food. He decided to wait to eat until Rusty woke so they could eat together, maybe for the last time. He busied himself with brewing up some potions. It would take most of the day to make what he wanted, but there were no classes today so he had time. It would also help keep his mind occupied. He knew Travis would not fight alone, that his friends would jump in as soon as he looked to be losing.

  Azerick was not confident he could beat all four of them without using his strongest spells, and that ran the real risk of killing someone. He had no apprehension of killing a man if he deserved it like those men in the thieves’ guild who killed Jon and his family, but these were just school bullies. Travis probably deserved to die for what he had attempted with Loranna, but it was not his place to be the judge and executioner for every crime committed in the city.

  Rusty was finally beginning to stir and mumbled out Colleen’s name once with a smile on his face while still half asleep before regaining full consciousness.

  “Hey, lover boy, are you hungry?”

  “I’m starved. Dancing works up an appetite.”

  “Almost as much as the after dancing activities do, I would wager.”

  “How did you know about that?” Rusty asked guiltily as his cheeks flushed a bright red.

  “You just told me,” Azerick answered laughingly.

  “What are you cooking up?” Rusty asked, looking at the liquids brewing in the alchemic set and helping himself to some of the food Azerick laid out.

  “Just something I may need later. So how was your night with Colleen?”

  “It was fine, great I mean, you know…” Rusty replied stumbling over his words as his face attained an even brighter shade of red than normal.

  “Rusty, I just want you to know you have been a good friend, the best friend I ever had. If I have to leave sometime and not come back, I want you to have the alchemic set.”

  “What are you talking about? Where are you going? I can help if you are in trouble!”

  “There is just something I have to do, and it may take me away for a while, that’s all. I don’t want you to get involved.”

  “But you are my friend, and friends help each other,” Rusty insisted.

  “Not with this, this is personal. You need to stay here and finish your training, marry Colleen, and raise a family.”

  “How did you know we were talking about getting married?”

  “You just told me—again. Man, Rusty, you are terrible at keeping secrets.”

  “You won’t tell me what is going on, will you?”

  “No, I can’t. This is something I need to deal with on my own.”

  “Just be careful, okay. Whenever you finish what you need to do, I’ll be here for you if you need anything,” Rusty promised.

  The two friends clasped wrists and finished eating. Azerick went back to work on his potions while Rusty busied himself studying his spell book. Later in the day, Rusty took his leave to go meet with Colleen. Azerick finished his potions and poured the contents into shiny, steel vials, six in all, which he stoppered with a cork and sealed with wax. These he slipped into special pockets he had sewn inside his cloak.

  Once outfitted, he left the main hall and crossed the commons, stopping by the training yard to borrow a staff from the weapons rack. Fortunately, they did not bother to lock up the staves like they did the bladed weapons. He then threaded his way through the wooded area of the huge maneuver training field, pausing at the top of the hill to prepare his defensive spells before walking down to meet whatever fate awaited him.

  “I’m surprised you actually showed up, peasant,” Travis sneered.

  “And I’m not the least bit surprised to see you brought your friends to help save your miserable skin,” Azerick replied, looking at the three other young wizards standing with him.

  “Don’t worry about them; they are just here to congratulate me when you fall.”

  “Let’s do this then.”

  Travis motioned his friends to back away and give them room. The three fell back about fifty feet and off to the side of the clearing that made up the dueling ground. Travis immediately began drawing in the Source, forming a weave with the strands of energy, and muttering the words to a spell.

  Azerick reacted instantly, drawing in his own power to form his attack at the same time. Travis must have prepared his defenses ahead of time as well Azerick surmised as he realized his opponent was forming an offensive spell.

  Azerick completed his spell first and launched three dagger-shaped, brilliant bolts at Travis. A spellcaster could shape the visual appearance of many of their spells as a method to personalize their castings. All three bolts should have struck Travis in the chest, but an invisible shield harmlessly dissipated them.

  Such total protection from his spell should not have been possible given Travis’ skill level. His ward could protect him from some of the damage, but only a wizard of much higher power could negate it entirely. This unexpected revelation caused Azerick a great deal of concern.

  Travis released his own stream of bolts that looked like small, glowing skulls. Both bolts pierced Azerick’s shield, which bled off some but not all of their power, and struck him in the chest. The blow burned like mad, but Azerick maintained his focus and launched another, stronger spell at his nemesis. A green, arrow-shaped bolt sprang forth from his outstretched hand, but whatever force was protecting his target turned his spell aside once again.

  Travis completed his next spell, laughing at Azerick’s seemingly impotent casting. Travis hurled a large ball sparking with electricity. Azerick tried to dodge the crackling orb but was caught a glancing blow on his shoulder as it sailed past. Even with the minor protection of his shield, agonizing pain lanced through his body.

  Azerick now realized that Travis was wearing some kind of enchanted device protecting him from the spells he had thrown at him thus far. Blinking the sweat and pain-induced tears from his eyes, Azerick prepared his most powerful spell, hoping it would be strong enough to pierce whatever protection he had bought.

  It was the most complex spell Azerick knew, and the time it took to cast was such that Travis was able to launch another pair of skull-shaped bolts at him before he completed it. Once again, the young sorcerer ground his teeth in pain and concentration, willing himself to focus on his casting.

  Azerick thrust his hand out and shouted the arcane command to release the gathered power. The clap of thunder set his ears ringing as the smell of ozone produced by the lightning bolt filled the air. Travis was hurled back and sent sprawling as his ward failed to fully protect him from the spell’s deadly force.

  The young sorcerer spun around to face Travis’ friends, knowing they would interfere now that their leader was down. They were already casting when Azerick turned to face them, and he knew he could not complete his spell before all three struck. He doubted he would be able to withstand the barrage of all three students’ spells.

  Azerick was forming his attack even though he knew it was probably futile when a gout of flame sprang from the tree line a few yards to the side of Travis’ three friends. The flaming lance of fire stretched from Rusty’s hands and shot between the young mages, burning all three. They dove and rolled in the dirt trying to smother the flames from their burning robes.

  “What are you doing here, Rusty?” Azerick shouted in surprise and relief.

  “Saving your butt from the looks of it.”

  Rusty covered the three young men on the ground as Azerick turned back to face Travis. Travis had recovered from what should have been a mortal blow, holding his wand out before him.

  “Put the wand away, Travis, and admit defeat,” Azerick demanded.

  “No, I have you now. You’ll never be able to get a spell off before I kill you.”

  “Don’t do it, Travis, or you will be sorry. I promise you.”

  “You lost, peasant, and I’m going to blast your friend too, right after I kill you
,” Travis swore as he uttered the command to unleash the wand’s power.

  Azerick dropped to the ground as Travis triggered his wand. A massive explosion ripped through the air as the wand exploded, releasing all its stored energy in one mighty blast due to the sundering spell Azerick had cast on it previously to weaken its structure. The force of the uncontrolled discharge crashed over everyone in the clearing, blasting leaves from the surrounding trees and sending Rusty and the three other students flying through the air. The concussive wave washed over the prone sorcerer, rolling him away from the epicenter of the explosion.

  When the dust cleared, the young men climbed unsteadily back to their feet, ears ringing, and looked around in shock at the damage the exploding wand had caused. All of the trees immediately surrounding the clearing had been stripped of their leaves. At the source of the blast, the ground had been laid bare of all grass leaving nothing but dirt, blood, and Travis’ ruined, unmoving body. All five students slowly walked up to the corpse and knew immediately he would never move again. The arm that had been holding the wand was simply gone, and his face and chest were shredded and blackened from the blast.

  “You did this, you knew what would happen! I heard what you said and saw you drop to the ground just before his wand blew up!” one of Travis’ friends shouted accusingly.

  “I didn’t know it would be so powerful. I thought it would just break,” Azerick tried to explain.

  “You killed him! It was murder, and I’ll see you hang for it!” another shouted.

  “I would be very careful with who you threaten right now. Do you think this is the first man I have killed?” Azerick asked his eyes full of menace.

  The three wizards decided to run instead of challenging the dangerous sorcerer.

  “How did you know I was here, Rusty?”

  “I knew you were going to do something that would probably get you killed, so I waited for you to leave then followed you here.”

  “I wish you hadn’t gotten caught up in this, but thanks for your help.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I have to leave. I knew that before I came out here,” Azerick replied as he walked over and pulled his packsack and staff out from behind a tree.

  “They are going to ask me what happened, you know. What do you want me to tell them?”

  “Tell them the truth.”

  “Did you know that was going to happen when you sabotaged his wand?” Rusty asked looking at the corpse.

  “No,” Azerick replied, shaking his head. “I really did not know that would happen. At least not nearly that bad, but I am not sorry for it. He was going to rape a girl last night, but I stopped him. He would have cheated in order to kill me tonight as well, so he got what he deserved. I probably saved a lot of people from his predations.”

  “But you were already packed, ready to leave,” Rusty pursued, his doubt creeping into his voice.

  “I knew I would not be returning to The Academy no matter what happened here tonight. There are other things going on I cannot talk about.”

  “All right, Azerick, you are my friend and I trust you. Keep yourself safe. You know I am here if you ever need anything,” Rusty promised as he embraced his friend.

  They parted ways there in the clearing. Rusty went back toward The Academy, and Azerick headed off in a different direction. Both wondering if they would see the other ever again.

  Rusty moved at a sedate pace, his mind feeling as though it were in a fog as he desperately tried to come to terms with what had happened and what to do about it. A troupe of Academy cadre, led by the recently deceased Travis’ friends, intercepted Rusty as he walked slowly back to the school.

  “There he is, Headmaster, he saw that street rat kill Travis!”

  Rusty started at the unexpected shout and saw Travis’ trio of friends leading Headmaster Dondrian, Magus Allister, Magus Florent, and Magus Bauer toward him at a rapid pace. Magus Bauer looked furious and ready to flay the skin from someone, Magus Florent and Allister looked concerned, while the Headmaster just looked confused.

  “Franklin, what has happened? Where is Azerick?” the Headmaster asked, winded from the swift walk.

  “I don’t know where he is. As to what happened, that’s a long story, but Travis is dead and they were part of it,” Rusty said, pointing at the three who had brought the teachers.

  “Take us to Travis and where it all happened,” Magus Allister told Rusty.

  Rusty led the group back the way he had come and into the small clearing. Nothing had changed in the last half hour. The massive blast had scorched the ground clean of grass and shrubs, the nearest trees were bereft of much of their foliage, and Travis lay strewn about a large are in so many pieces it would take days to recover most of the bits for burial.

  “By the gods,” Allister rumbled, looking on in disbelief. “I think we had best get back to your office, Dondrian, and discuss this further. We will need to contact the boy’s father.”

  “As well as the magistrate,” Magus Bauer added in her own shrewish voice.

  “Indeed,” the Headmaster replied, heaving a heavy sigh. “This is a most distressing situation with little chance of coming out well for anyone involved.”

  EPILOGUE

  Several dark-robed figures sat around a large stone table in high-backed chairs of ancient design. The light was poor, barely illuminating the grey, featureless walls of the dusty, stale chamber.

  “Ulric is taking too long to secure the armor, and with it, the throne,” one of the figures said.

  “The length of time is not unexpected. Dundalor’s armor was scattered throughout the known world a millennium ago. We knew it would take time to recover.”

  “But what of the delay to our own plans for the King and the kingdom?”

  “We are not ready to move right now anyway. The King still commands forces that are loyal to him. If Ulric ultimately fails, we want enough of our own people in place to make the coup as bloodless as possible, at least to the citizens. Jarvin and his ilk are another matter.”

  “How much longer shall we allow Ulric to ready himself to make his bid for the crown before we must write him off as a failure and move in ourselves?”

  “Not long, another year, perhaps two will give us enough time to judge Ulric’s chances of success or failure and shore up our own position in the interim.”

  “What of the recent reports of the dead rising?”

  “Fanciful tales from peasants most likely, but we can use it to our gain regardless of their veracity. Casually spread the word that it is the result of having a bastard sit the throne. After all, the King represents the land, and if his blood is impure, it surely taints the land as well."

  “Very well, gentlemen, all glory to the sun god.

  “All hail Solarian,” the dark cabal intoned in unison.

  The End

  Book 2

  The Sorcerer’s Torment

  CHAPTER 1

  Once again, it seemed the fates conspired against the young sorcerer; taking away his home, his friends, and anything that brought him happiness. Azerick already lost his father, home, and the future he had planned because of someone’s greed and thirst for power. He lost his mother, his friends, and his second family to evil men with nothing but avarice in their hearts. Just when he thought his life was back on the proper path at The Academy, he had to leave his home, education, and friends behind.

  Had he meant to kill Travis? Azerick certainly felt he had reason and possibly justification, but in his heart, he knew it was an accident. He would not mourn Travis’ death. Azerick took every loss and every hurt inflicted upon him like a hot sword under the hammer of a blacksmith. Every ringing blow tempered him, made him stronger, harder, and more lethal to those who sought to harm him.

  Azerick crossed the night-shrouded city and went straight to the docks where a handful of ships stood moored. He had to make several inquiries before he finally found one leaving this night. Most outbound ships ha
d set sail with the coming of the tide, but the Sea Star had been delayed when the large cargo hoist had to be repaired after snapping its boom. The crew was hastily loading the rest of the cargo so the ship could set sail the instant the tides became favorable. Azerick approached one of the sailors assisting with the loading of the last few crates needing stowed.

  “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find the Captain of this vessel?” Azerick inquired.

  “He be checking the storing of the cargo below decks. Best you wait until he is done a’fore pesterin’ him, boy,” the sailor responded.

  Azerick waited patiently, constantly casting looks over his shoulder as he half-expected the Watch to run him down as the sailors hoisted the last cargo net full of crates over to the open hatch of the ship. Several minutes passed after the last load was stored in the ship’s belly before a man swung over on the returning boom clutching onto the limp cargo netting. When the arm swung over the dock, he released his grip and dropped lightly to the wood planking.

  “One of my mates says you want to see the Captain,” the man stated.

  The ship’s captain looked to be in his mid-fifties and sported a thick, but well-groomed beard going from blond to mostly grey. He wore oiled, knee-high leather boots with the tops rolled down below the knee. His face showed the harshness of years of abuse from the sun and saltwater, but he was surprisingly fit and agile.

  “Yes, sir, my name is Azerick, and I would like to request passage on your vessel.”

  “This isn’t a passenger ship, boy. It’s a merchant ship—my merchant ship.”

  “I’ve sailed before, Captain, and I will work as hard as any man on board.”

  “I’ve got a full crew and need no more hands, and more importantly, no more bellies needing filled for this trip.”