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

by Brock Deskins

  “I have permission, and I am sure he would not mind since you are learning something that will help you perform one of your duties better.”

  “I suppose I could do that then, as long as you are with me.”

  “Great, let’s go.” He donned a clean shirt before leading her down the stairs to the laboratory.

  Azerick winced from the pain caused by his hurried rush down the stairs, but he never lost the smile gracing his face. They came to the sturdy wooden door sealing off the underground chamber. It opened at his touch, and he ushered Delinda through the doorway and closed it behind him. Several of the glowing globes provided ample light that glinted off the numerous glass and copper tubes and vessels. A large bookshelf held rows of jars filled with dried ingredients, strange liquids, and preserved body parts.

  “You know how to use all of this?” Delinda asked as she looked at all the complex equipment.

  “Most of it. I brewed a draught to help speed healing once before with my own equipment. Before I came here that is.”

  “It looks quite complicated. Do you think I can really learn to use it?”

  “I’m sure you can, and I’ll teach you. It can come in very handy. There are stronger healing potions to heal even severe wounds almost instantly, but they take a lot of distilling and concentrating. I have never made one before, but I have always wanted to. We can try one of those another time if you want.”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Azerick’s heart nearly leapt into his throat at the way she looked up at him with her soft, brown eyes.

  “Ahem…ok, let’s get started then. First, we need to make sure we have all of the necessary ingredients,” he said quickly and hurried over to the shelf containing numerous jars of reagents.

  He told her everything they would need, and then set her to crushing and mixing the different plants. He then showed her how to work the oil burner and how much water to add to the flask before setting it over the flame to boil. Once the water came to a boil, he poured in the ground herbs and turned down the flame on the burner.

  “Now we just wait and let it simmer for a few hours then drink it down. It tastes terrible, but it speeds up healing a lot.”

  “How fast does it work?”

  “It will mend my cracked ribs in a few days; five at the most,” he answered.

  Delinda’s face brightened. “That’s incredible!”

  “So how did you come to be here?”

  Delinda morosely related her story to Azerick. “Some men rode into my village and killed many of our men. They captured a lot of the younger women and older children and put us into cages. They took us far from our village and put us on a boat. We floated several days downriver before reaching the sea. After two days at sea, we came to an island and were unloaded at a slave market. The slave master purchased several others and me. Lord Xornan then bought me from the slave master.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Four years I think. You start to lose time after a while. How did you come to be Lord Xornan’s favored pet?”

  “I am nobody’s pet!” Azerick exclaimed more vehemently than he intended. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to shout like that.”

  “That’s all right. I should not have called you a pet. That is all we are to him. All of us, we are nothing more than animals to him and his kind.”

  “I will change that one day. One day this pet is going to turn on his master and tear his throat out.”

  “No, you mustn’t say that! You must not even think it! He will punish you terribly for any thought of dissidence.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think he will do anything unless I actually manage to act against him, which so far seems highly unlikely.”

  “So how did you come to be here?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “I was on a ship, a huge storm came up and blew us off course, and when it cleared we were attacked by a minotaur ship. I killed one of them, but a psyling did something that rendered us unconscious. Then we were brought here and bought by Xornan.”

  Azerick then told her about his parents, Jon Locke, the Academy, and the death of Travis. He didn’t know why he told her so much. He was accustomed to holding everything in and keeping others out, but as he talked to Delinda everything just poured out of him and it made him feel almost relieved to share so much.

  She laughed a pleasant, light-hearted laugh at his tale of how he and the younger students beat Travis and his friends and the pranks they set on each other, but she became somber when he told her about his part in Travis’ death. He left out the fire at the guild house, the man who attacked him in the alley, the innkeeper, and the details of how he killed his mother’s murderer. Those things were too dark for him to share, and he feared it might make her afraid of him.

  “That must have been terrible for you,” she told him and laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “You must not blame yourself. You did what you had to do. They gave you no choice. Much of your life sounds just like the arena, only an arena of a different sort.”

  He greatly appreciated her understanding. The last thing he wanted was for this young woman to think he was a monster. He turned off the oil burner to allow the potion to cool while they continued to talk about their lives. Delinda told him about the psyling city, at least what she knew of it, and Azerick told her all about Southport. The potion was finally cool enough to drink and he downed the bitter concoction with a grimace.

  “Well, that should do it. Would you like to learn how to make a real healing potion with me some time?”

  “I would like that very much. Do you think I could practice making the fast heal draught? It would be very useful.”

  “Of course. How about tomorrow? I can take an inventory of all the ingredients down here to see if I need anything else for the healing potion,” he said, ecstatic at the thought of spending more time with her.

  “I must tend the garden tomorrow, but perhaps when I finish?”

  “That sounds fine.”

  As they stepped out of the stairwell and into the parlor, Lord Xornan stood in the center of the room with his hands tucked into his voluminous sleeves.

  “Lord Xornan, Azerick was teaching me how to brew a potion to aid in the healing of wounds,” Delinda explained nervously.

  “I thought it would be prudent, given her duties, master,” Azerick added.

  Of course, I knew this before you made the top of the stairs. Go about your duties, Delinda. Follow me, pet.

  Azerick did as he was told and followed Xornan up the winding stairs of the tower. He thought they were going to the library or perhaps his room for some sort of talk regarding his fight today. This notion was dispelled as they came to the floor where the library was located but continued ascending the stairs. Azerick had never been any higher in the tower than the library floor. The only rooms he knew of above the library were his master’s chambers. What could be there that required his presence?

  On this floor are my private chambers. You will not enter here. Our destination lies at the top of the tower, Lord Xornan informed his slave as they continued up the winding stairs.

  They reached the top of the stairs and stopped before a thick, oaken door. The psyling placed his long, delicate hand against a silver plate mounted on the wall near the door. At his touch, the door opened inward without a sound.

  Place your hand upon the plate.

  Azerick pressed his hand firmly against the cold, polished metal and felt a slight static-like prickling for a moment that quickly subsided.

  You now have access to this room so that you may carry out the duties I shall prescribe.

  Xornan glided into the chamber with Azerick in tow without further explanation. Azerick could not hold back a gasp as he looked about the room. The chamber appeared to be a vault of some kind in which a vast horde of precious objects and knowledge were stored. Gleaming weapons, staves, wands, and unknown objects lay almost carelessly strewn throughout the room. Some o
f the objects were intentionally displayed on shelves or mounted on the walls while others lay in seemingly haphazard piles around the chamber.

  Rolled up scrolls filled several cabinets whose shelves were divided into numerous small pigeonholes. Bookshelves filled with ancient tomes, some slowly disintegrating with age, lined the walls. Crystals, some as large as his own head, were lined up on a shelf sharing the same cabinet with stone and bone carvings. However, the thing that drew Azerick’s eye was a large, circular, stone arch atop a short set of marble steps. Carved runes gilded with a shining sliver metal covered the entire structure. Perfectly cut gems adorned one section on the right-hand side of the arch. The gems were laid out in a veritable rainbow of three concentric rings with a palm-sized diamond set in the center.

  Xornan’s intrusive mind speech broke Azerick’s enthrallment. In this chamber resides my collection of lore and objects of power. This is my vault for storing the things I collect during my travels. I travel to various worlds and planes by use of this archway. It creates a stable gateway to wherever I wish to go, but that is something in which you need not concern yourself. Your task is to research, catalog, and organize my acquisitions. You will not use or remove any object from this room nor attempt to activate the arch.

  This last statement was a magically reinforced command that hit him like a punch. Azerick staggered under the mentally intrusive assault, but he quickly composed himself as the pressure on his brain subsided.

  Azerick simply nodded in supplication as he regained his composure. It was not the first time the psyling had forced his compliance, but the experience always left him queasy and slightly disoriented.

  Satisfied his slave would obey his orders to the letter, he left Azerick alone to work on his task. He slowly walked through the cluttered chamber, navigated his way past several objects, picking up a few here and there when they caught his eye for a closer examination. He walked over to one of the bookshelves packed from floor to ceiling with dust-covered books and selected one at random. He carried it over to an equally dust-covered table and carefully opened the leather-bound cover. The pages were yellowed and slightly brittle but perfectly readable as long as he handled it with care.

  Azerick pulled out another book and flipped through a few of the pages before returning it back to the shelf. He decided the first thing to do was to create some sort of organization for the various objects, books, and scrolls before even contemplating any kind of actual research. Several tomes were stacked on the floor while wooden chests held even more books, scrolls, and various items. He would definitely need more shelves. For now, he would make do with what he had.

  The books on the floor were a travesty. He cleared several knick-knacks off a shelf that appeared to be little more than curiosities to make room for the books. Then he began browsing each book and listed its title, contents, and author in order to create a catalog and method of organization. It was extremely late by the time fatigue convinced him to call it a night. He had managed to catalog the contents of half a bookshelf by the time he retired for the evening and was moderately pleased with his achievement.

  The next day, with Lord Xornan’s permission, he had the materials for four more shelving units delivered to the vault room landing. Since he was the only one allowed in the room, he had to cart the lumber inside and construct the shelves himself. Azerick did not mind the manual labor. It actually felt good to work with his hands for once instead of simply burying his nose in a book. He made space against one wall where he stacked the boards that would eventually become bookshelves before diving back into cataloging the waiting books.

  Every few hours, he took a break from reading and organizing the books and put one of the shelving units together. Once constructed, he went back to the books for a time and repeated the process. It only took two days before he had put together all four bookshelves. He had also completely organized and cataloged one entire cabinet of books.

  He was midway through his cataloging of his second rack of books when Lord Xornan glided into the room with six humans and four minotaurs in tow.

  I may be gone for several days. Inform anyone wishing an audience with me that I will see them upon my return. Handle any other business that comes up as you see fit in accordance with my previous guidance. Continue your work here, but be prepared for another bout in The Games when I return.

  Without waiting for a reply, Lord Xornan strode onto the dais of the arch and touched several of the colorful crystals in sequence. After a short pause, the large diamond in the center glowed with a bright, white radiance. The psyling touched the illuminated gem, and the golden runes on the arch flared to life with an inner light.

  The inner area of the stone arch shimmered for a moment before resolving into inky blackness like the pupil of a giant eye. The Psyling raised a hand, and a glowing orb sprang to life. It hovered just over the party’s head and showed the cold, grey stone of a cavern wall.

  Azerick watched the small group walk several paces into the tunnel before the gate wavered once more and the mauve stone wall of the vault was once again the only thing visible beyond the arch.

  Azerick spent most of his days and evenings locked inside the vault, but he endeavored to spend at least lunch with Delinda and occasionally dinner. He had to force himself, with her urging, to take the time to make good on his promise to show her how to brew the healing draught. He spent a couple of hours each day talking and teaching her to brew the potions. Delinda was very bright and made a quick study. She was gifted in the use of plants and herbs and showed great promise as a master herbalist and healer.

  He stood over her shoulder while she ground several dried leaves into a fine powder. The smell of lavender from her hair mixing with the crushed herbs in the mortar drove him to distraction. His mind began to drift from the task of creating potions to what it would be like to hold Delinda in his arms and to feel her deft hands caress his skin.

  “Are these ground up fine enough?” She asked, looking up at him over her shoulder.

  It took all his resolve to keep from bending down and kissing her passionately right then as she smiled up at him.

  “Uh, yeah that’s fine,” he breathed out heavily; unaware he had been holding his breath until this moment.

  “So what’s next?”

  He looked over to where a glass flask sat over a flame, its contents steadily boiling. “You mix the other three components you ground previously and drop them into the boiling water. Let me turn the flame down while you mix them.”

  Delinda dumped the contents of the mortar into a ceramic bowl, poured the crushed contents of three other bowls into the first one, and then mixed them thoroughly while Azerick turned down the flame under the flask down so the water went from a rapid boil to a slow simmer. Once he declared the components properly mixed, she carefully poured them into the flask.

  “Now mix it with the glass rod until the powder dissolves as much as possible. You will have to keep stirring it every fifteen minutes for the next four hours.”

  She picked up the glass rod, inserted it into the neck of the flask, and stirred the contents until they were thoroughly mixed and mostly dissolved in the water. The flask’s contents quickly took on the color of a thick, black tea.

  “Now we wait. Just make sure you keep mixing it on schedule,” he reminded her and turned an hourglass over.

  “So, what do you want to talk about while we wait?” She sat against the table with the heels of her palms pressed against the edge.

  How about how bad I want to kiss you right now? “I don’t know. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Did you see Lord Xornan leave? Do you know where he went?”

  “Yes, he used a magical gate at the top of the tower. I don’t know where he went or what he was going to do though,” he told her, glad to have a topic of conversation. “He took ten guards with him; six human, four minotaur. They had some big packs on their backs. The minotaurs and humans did; not Xornan of course.”


  “He must be on one of his expeditions to add a new bauble to his collection. I have heard he travels to many places to add to his hoard of rare and magical items, but I have never been up there to see any of it myself. What do you do up there all day long?”

  “He has me organizing everything right now. For things that are so important to him, he does not seem to take very good care of them.”

  “For him I think it is the getting more than the having. Everything about him is all about prestige. He likes to tell others about the rare and valuable things he has. His ability to lord it over them is more valuable to him than their actual use or worth. It is the same for his slaves too. We are only useful or valuable so long as we serve a purpose or benefit his reputation.”

  “I thought it was the gold he won from betting on me,” Azerick said.

  “Gold is not that important to him, though he will kill anyone who steals from him or cheats him. Your winning brings the prestige he covets. He will punish you severely if you lose. It’s not because of the gold, but because your loss would appear to be a weakness. Any weakness you display he feels others presume it to be a weakness of his.”

  “I guess I better not lose then.”

  She scowled back at him. “No, you had best not. This is neither a joke nor a game of any kind. Most who lose in the arena do not survive. Even if your opponent allows you to live, you will be punished terribly afterwards. I would not like to see that at all.”

  “You need to stir your potion now,” he told her and turned the timer back over. “So what would you like to do with your life some day?”

  “What do you mean? I am a slave. I have no life nor hope for any other.”

  “You will not always be a slave. We will escape him one day. I cannot allow myself to believe this is all my life will ever come to. I have some unfinished tasks I will return to one day,” Azerick told her with certainty.

  “How will you get away? He binds us with something stronger than chains. We are secured by a lock that has no key and cannot be picked or forced open.”