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

by Brock Deskins

  “I will kill him someday, and I will not waste half my life before I do. I will play his game for now, as I must, but one day my chance will come and I will take it.”

  “No, you cannot even think such a thing! He knows what we think, and if he so much as thinks you can hurt him, he will punish you or kill you. I have tried to defy his orders, but every time I try my mind refuses to do anything except what he says.”

  “He knows I want to kill him. My defiance amuses him. I do not know how I will do it, but he will make a mistake, or I will figure something out. Time to stir your potion again.”

  Delinda turned back to the table and mixed the simmering potion once again then turned back toward Azerick. “I do not see how you can hope to oppose him when you are even afraid of me,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  “What do you mean? I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Then why don’t you kiss me?”

  Azerick’s eyes went wide and his heart started pounding in his chest like a drum. “Um, what makes you think I want to kiss you?”

  “I think you try very hard to hide your emotions, but in this regard, you are terrible at it. I don’t need to have Lord Xornan’s mind reading ability to see something that obvious.”

  “What makes you think you can read me so well?”

  “When you are helpless against those around you, you learn to read them so you know who you can trust and who to avoid. I have been a slave for a while now. It has not been an easy life,” she said, trying to hide the pain behind her eyes.

  “You mean Lord Xornan—” Azerick hesitantly asked.

  Delinda followed his line of reasoning and gave a small laugh. “No, I do not think his likes are to the female persuasion.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Oh by the gods, you don’t think he—?”

  This time she burst out in uncontrollable laughter. “No, I do not think he has any interest in humans of any sort. I am sorry for what has happened to me, but I have never been kissed by anyone I actually wanted to kiss me. Please understand.”

  Azerick cut off her words by taking her into his arms and kissing her ardently for several long moments, moments he never wanted to end, except they both needed to breathe eventually.

  “Well, perhaps you are not such a coward after all,” she said playfully.

  “I’m afraid I have burned up most of my fear a long time ago. At least I thought I had until today. Now that that is taken care of, I cannot imagine what else is left to be afraid of.”

  “You could die in The Games.”

  “Death does not frighten me. The only remorse I would have is that I could not be with you.”

  “You would not have to wait long. If you were to die, I am certain I would quickly follow you to the afterlife,” she promised as she looked deep into his eyes.

  Azerick held her even closer and kissed her once again. They nearly ruined their potion when the timer ran out while they were preoccupied. Fortunately, Delinda remembered before it was too late and stirred the black liquid on time for the duration of its cooking cycle.

  Once the potion was finished simmering, Azerick showed her how to strain it through several cloth filters of increasing fineness then instructed her to allow it to cure for seven days in a sealed and completely opaque bottle. Once it was sealed and stored away from any light source, they stumbled up the stairs in each other’s arms and into Azerick’s chambers.

  CHAPTER 4

  Azerick awoke early the next morning. A weight across his chest startled him, but he smiled when he realized it was just Delinda’s arm. He was elated to find her next to him. He was afraid last night was just a dream. If it was only a dream, he hoped it never ended. Delinda’s eyes opened and she smiled back at him and held him tighter.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him warmly, smiled, and closed her eyes again.

  “And a great night.”

  “Men,” she sighed and dug her knuckles into his ribs. “Come on, get up. We both have work to do. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  “But it is cold out there and so warm in here,” Azerick groaned as he tried half heartedly to fend off her tickling.

  “Get up, lazy bones, before Lord Xornan comes back.”

  “He just left yesterday. I’m sure he won’t be back this soon.”

  Delinda rolled out of bed. “Fine, stay in bed all day, but you can lie here by yourself,” she told him as she slipped her dress on over her head.

  “Fine, I’m coming.”

  He shivered as his bare feet touched the cold floor and quickly stepped onto the thick rug next to the bed where his discarded clothes lay in a pile.

  “I’m going to go brush my hair and wash up in my room. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She kissed him once then bounced out of the room and went downstairs.

  Azerick refreshed himself in the cold water of the washbasin sitting on a small table before dressing. He descended the stairs a few minutes later and made his way to the kitchen. Cook was already up, and the kitchen was invitingly warm. The smell of cinnamon-spiced oats, bacon, and fried eggs filled the air.

  “Good morning, Cook. Has Delinda been in here this morning?” he asked the former ship’s cook who now prepared the meals for Lord Xornan’s household.

  “No, Azerick, can’t say as I’ve seen her since yesterday. What’s got you grinning like a fox in a henhouse? Ah, I think I see,” he said as Delinda walked into the kitchen and hugged Azerick’s arm.

  “Good morning, Cook. Do you mind if we help ourselves to a plate?” she asked in a chipper voice.

  “Good morn to you, lass. Of course not, help yourselves.”

  Azerick and Delinda each filled a bowl with oatmeal while Cook fried a couple eggs on the stove. He slid them onto plates, piled on several strips of bacon, and served the young couple with a flourishing bow. Azerick and his new love, first love actually, sat at a plain wooden table set against the far wall of the kitchen. Cook gave Azerick a wink then found something he had to do somewhere else.

  “So what are you going to do today?” Azerick asked as he poured honey onto his oats then did the same for Delinda.

  “Tend the garden as usual. The cold is making many of the plants lose their leaves, and Lord Xornan gets very angry if he sees them on the ground. I also need to tend the spices in the hot house. Will you be going back to the vault?”

  “I suppose I had better. I don’t know how long Xornan expects me to take, but I had best show measurable progress, or he may find me something less enjoyable to do.”

  “I cannot imagine there are too many less enjoyable tasks than organizing a bunch of dusty books, scrolls, and trinkets,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “I actually enjoy it. Not the organizing so much, although it’s not so bad, but I also get to research the artifacts and scrolls. Most of it can be rather dull I will agree, but you can also find some useful knowledge in some of those books and scrolls.”

  “I guess I would think differently if I were a powerful wizard. Let me know if you find anything that rakes the leaves or waters the plants.”

  “I’m a sorcerer, not a wizard, and I am not that powerful,” Azerick corrected her.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the difference. Enlighten me, oh-not-so powerful sorcerer.”

  “An invisible energy exists that wizards and sorcerers tap into and shape to create their spells. They call it the Source. It is the source of all arcane magic. If you could see it, it would look like a river of liquid silver,” he explained.

  “If it is invisible, how do you know what it would look like if you could see it?”

  “I saw it once when I first tapped the Source as a sorcerer. It was kind of an accident. Another student at the school I was at said some things that got me really angry. I accidentally connected to the Source, drew too much power, and I passed out. I was very lucky I did not kill myself and everyone around me.”

  He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “A wizard must follow very specific weaves to make a c
onnection to the source by shaping the energy with gestures and words of magic. Their spells are mostly predefined, sort of like keys to gain access to the Source. A sorcerer is said to have a natural connection with the source. We can touch it and harness its power with weaves solely of our own creation. Once a wizard figures out a weave to connect with the source and shape it into a spell, he can write it down for other wizards to copy and learn. But their spell is very specific, and the shape of the weave must be precise or it will unravel. That is why you always find wizards with their noses in their spell books. They have to get the spell exactly right and cast it the exact same way each time. It cannot vary in the slightest. Sorcerers must create their spells on their own through their own study. How we shape our spells is unique to each of us. We do not have to write down and make sure we cast it the exact same way because we can make it work for us even if it is a little different each time. Since we cannot look at someone else’s spell and learn it like wizards can, it takes longer to create new spells, but we can harness more power more efficiently since we have a natural connection to the Source.”

  she grasped his hand in hers. “What did the other student say to you to make you so angry? Did it have something to do with the pain you try to hide behind your eyes?”

  Azerick looked away. “What you mean?”

  “I see it sometimes, when you think no one is looking. I feel it when you tense up for no reason, like you are trying so hard to hold something back.”

  Azerick took another deep breath and debated whether to tell her everything. Would she think he was a monster? A murderer? He warred with these thoughts for only a moment before deciding he would keep nothing from her. She had a right to know everything about him. He told her what Travis had said about his mother and what had happened to her. He told her about his father and his revenge on the thieves’ guild and the man who killed his mother.

  She had tears in her eyes as she got up from the table. For a brief moment, he was terrified she was going to run out the door, but she came around the table and held him tightly.

  “I’m so sorry for you, for what you have gone through, and what you have lost. And now you are here, forced to serve this vile creature and risk your life fighting in The Games.”

  He held her tightly and whispered into her ear. “It’s all right. As long as I have you here, I am happy. I learn more every day, and every battle I fight I get stronger. One day, I will be strong enough to get us away from here, I promise. I will take you away, and we will be happy. We can put all this fighting and death behind us. For you, I will even let go of my mourning and forget about this vengeance in my heart.”

  “I love you, Azerick.”

  “And I love you, Delinda,” he swore and kissed her passionately.

  She finally pushed him gently away. “It is getting late, and we need to see to our tasks.”

  “I suppose you are right. I fear I may not be able to focus on my work with you occupying my mind.”

  “You better pay attention to your work and make sure Lord Xornan is pleased!” she commanded and thumped his chest smartly with her small fist.

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised and kissed her once more before they parted and sought out their duties.

  Azerick stepped into the main hall on his way back to the tower stairway. Zeb, and nearly the entire crew of the Sea Star, were enthusiastically polishing the marble and silver planters. They all looked up as Azerick entered the large chamber and Zeb shot him a thumbs up and a wink as he crossed the room.

  He now realized where Cook had gone in such a hurry. The former sailors gave him a loud whoop and cheer as he mounted the stairs. Azerick’s face burned with embarrassment, but his comrades’ good cheer put a smile on his face nonetheless.

  Azerick pressed his hand to the silver plate and entered the vault once more. He began skimming through the stacks of books, setting aside those dealing directly with magic and spell casting. These he would read in detail whenever he decided to take a break from sorting the others.

  Azerick and Delinda were able to spend four more nights together before the master of the tower returned. Azerick was arranging the last of the books when the gate flared to life early one evening. A worn-looking Lord Xornan, two humans, and two beaten and battered minotaurs stepped from the barren world on the other side of the gate and into the vault. The gateway snapped shut as soon as the last guard crossed through.

  Here is another item for you to attend to, the psyling stated and thrust a black, rune-engraved staff into his hands.

  Without another word, Lord Xornan and his guards exited the chamber and filed down the stairs. Azerick looked at the dark rod and threw it into the corner of the room. He could feel the malevolence of the awful power it contained, and he wanted nothing to do with it. That particular item would be the last one he studied—if ever.

  He stayed in the vault late that night to avoid the master of the tower and toiled away at his duties. By the time he decided to quit for the night, or early morning, he had most of the books arranged in a logical order, indexed, and cross-referenced in a catalog he created. The dozen or so books he had left would require further study to determine the subject matter and author. He retired to his room exhausted and alone. He already missed Delinda’s warm body next to his. With a sigh of longing, he crawled into bed and quickly fell asleep.

  Azerick awoke all too early as the weak morning sunlight oozed through his narrow window. He was still tired. His night’s sleep had been far too short, but he decided he had better get up and get back to it. Maybe he could find something out about what had happened to Lord Xornan and his guards. He hoped he would see Delinda before he went back to the vault.

  Azerick stepped into the warm, fragrant kitchen a few minutes later and was overjoyed to see Delinda already sitting at the small table talking to Cook.

  “Good morning, lad,” Cook greeted him. “Let me get out of your way and fix you a plate.”

  Cook got up, grabbed his plate, dropped it in the sink, and started fixing the young sorcerer some breakfast. Azerick walked over to the table, leaned down, and kissed Delinda good morning before taking a seat across from her.

  “It looks like your night was as late as mine was,” Delinda surmised by the tired look mirrored in his eyes.

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to bump into Lord spider-face, so I worked late. What about you?”

  Delinda smiled at him. “You should not say such things, or even think them.” Azerick waved off her admonishment with a flick of his hand. “I had to tend to Lord Xornan and his guards until just a few hours ago. I have to go see to him again soon. I was waiting here for you or else I would have already seen to him.”

  “What happened? He had ten guards when he left.”

  “I guess whoever owned the thing he wanted was reluctant to part with it. It happens sometimes,” she answered with a shrug. “So what did he bring back that was so important?”

  “A staff with a very evil feel to it. I do not like it. I hope I can avoid having to deal with it, at least for a while.”

  “Please be careful. I don’t know much about magic, but I know some of it can be very dangerous.”

  “I will, love, I promise.”

  Cook set a plate of food in front of him and a hot cup of strong tea then he busied himself with the few dishes in the sink.

  “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. I need to go check on Lord Xornan before he starts calling for me. He does not handle pain well and can be quite difficult when he is convalescent.” She got up and kissed Azerick before leaving him to his meal.

  Cook took advantage of the recently vacated chair and sat down with his cup of tea. “How are you holding up, Azerick?”

  “I’m doing all right I guess.”

  “From the looks of it you’re doing a bit better than all right,” Cook said with a glance at the door Delinda had exited and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. She is really great.”

&nb
sp; “She’s a good catch. Best hold onto her, kid. I heard you are going to be fighting again soon.”

  “So I heard.”

  “You be careful out there, do you hear me? You got a lot of friends here, and none of us want to see you get hurt.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll be careful, I always am.”

  Cook laughed. “You, careful? Hardly, son. We know you better than that!”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Now that I’m more inclined to believe.”

  Azerick finished eating and went back to the vault. He started working on sorting the scrolls next. There were a lot of them, and he quickly realized they were not going to be as easy to identify and catalog as the books had been. It took him two days to figure out a method of organization. Once he was able to determine that, the work went a bit faster. Several scrolls had been penned by wizards or sorcerers in ages past and contained significant power. These he separated as he did the spell books and other tomes directly relating to magic.

  It was on the third day after the master’s return that Lord Xornan came to see him in the vault chamber. Azerick was studiously reading over several scrolls and noting their context and author, when available, and adding them into his indexing journal when the psyling glided through the door.

  I see you have been making satisfactory progress in your task. I was afraid Delinda might have been an unfavorable distraction on you. I am pleased that is not the case. I value her work and would dislike being forced to dispose of her.

  Azerick flushed at the mention of Delinda then his face burned with rage at the master’s mention of disposing of her. “I am doing my work as best I can. Delinda is not interfering in the least.”

  It took all his effort not to shout and issue impudent threats at the vile creature for daring to hint that he would send away or harm her.

  Do not be overly concerned, my pet. She shall remain safe so long as you do as I instruct. You will be fighting in The Games in three days. I hope you are prepared.

  “I am always prepared,” Azerick replied with restrained hostility.