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

by Brock Deskins

“Whatever you are going to do, make it quick, lad,” Zeb cautioned.

  “I will wait here and guard you,” Toron insisted.

  Azerick was going to argue, but the look in the minotaur’s eyes made it obvious that it was a statement and not a request. He jogged down the tunnel with Toron close on his heels. A minute later he stopped, handed Toron his light stone, and unrolled one of the scrolls. He read the spidery runes of magic, each one flaring out of existence with a tiny flash of flame as soon as he read them aloud. When he came to the end of the scroll and the last rune flared out of existence, Azerick let the charred velum drop to the ground.

  “I do not see any effect,” Toron stated.

  “Not yet, but the gnomes will. Let’s go. We are not done yet.”

  The pair ran back up the tunnel toward the magical doorway and stopped about halfway back. Azerick unrolled the second scroll and cast the spell it contained with similar invisible effects.

  “That takes care of that. I’ll follow you through the doorway,” Azerick told Toron.

  “I do not care much for a wizard’s chicanery. I hope you appreciate the level of trust I show you by stepping through such a thing.”

  “Your trust in me is greatly appreciated. Now get your big, hairy butt through the portal.”

  Azerick dropped his light stone before he followed Toron through. The magical gate snapped shut as soon as Azerick stepped through the doorway. He walked to the ledge and cast his gate spell on the far side of the chasm. The portal’s exit he placed several feet away from the distant wall over a hundred feet above the chasm floor. He then unrolled a third scroll and prepared his last surprise and waited for the enemy’s arrival.

  The two earth elementals lumbered into the rune field Azerick had cast from the first scroll with the gnomes following close behind them. The elementals strode through the field without triggering the magical traps, their stone forms lacking the flesh and blood the spell required to trigger its effect. The unfortunate cavern gnomes had no such protection.

  Several gnomes made it nearly halfway across before the first trap erupted in a bright burst of energy, searing the flesh of the individual who stepped on it. Several more bursts followed as more of the gnomes marched into the trapped field.

  The elementals continued their pursuit of the fleeing humans, oblivious to the attacks on the gnomes. Less than a minute later, the lead elemental reached Azerick’s second trap. A sphere of pent up energy floated invisibly over the center of the passageway, waiting for anyone or anything to pass near it.

  When the first stone behemoth came within a few feet of it, it became visible and exploded. The force of the blast shattered the lead elemental’s entire upper torso. It took two more steps then fell forward and lay still. The remaining elemental lost its left hand, and a web of cracks ran through its chest. The gnomes had wisely chosen not to follow quite so close behind their summoned creatures, but flying bits of stone still caused several deep lacerations in those closest.

  The stone caller was furious at the destruction of another of his creatures and shouted in rage at the remaining elemental’s back. He was familiar with the chasm ahead, and he knew the humans could not be far unless they could fly. He urged the earth elemental onward, desperate to destroy these interlopers once and for all.

  The stone caller saw a pale light ahead and knew the humans must be just around the bend. The remaining earth elemental rounded the corner, took three more steps, and unwittingly stepped through the dimensional gate, which instantly deposited it a hundred feet over the great black abyss of the chasm. It fell soundlessly until its hulking body shattered on the stones below.

  The spell expired just as the stone caller rounded the bend. He glared at the sorcerer who had somehow managed to get his people across the deep gorge.

  Azerick called across the chasm as more gnomes appeared on the other side. “I will tell you one more time. We have no interest in fighting you or encroaching on your territory. We are merely refugees trying to get home, but we will defend ourselves. How many more of you are willing to sacrifice your lives in this pointless pursuit? Cut your losses, and allow us to leave unmolested.”

  “Human, I am named the stone caller. All around you is stone, and I am its master. You and your people are doomed. Your petty tricks are no match for the power within the rock!” he shouted and raised his gem once more.

  It felt as though the entire world began shaking beneath Azerick’s feet. Stalactites began falling from the cavern ceiling all around him. The gorge echoed with the sharp crack of rock splitting apart.

  “You have made a very poor decision, stone caller,” Azerick yelled and read the last word remaining on the scroll he held in his hands.

  The instant the remaining rune burned away from the paper, a massive fireball erupted behind the ranks of cavern gnomes standing on the far side of the gorge. The blast sent a dozen of the short figures hurling out over the black abyss as if flung from a catapult. Another half dozen or more of the gnomes gathered near its epicenter perished under the intense heat of the inferno. Those who were able raced back in the direction from which they came, deciding that these humans were not worth more of their lives.

  The earth shaking subsided when Azerick’s spell blasted the stone caller through the air, along with many of his kin, and dashed them upon the rocks below. Azerick turned from the needless destruction and walked back to his people.

  “I do not think they will be bothering us any longer,” Azerick told Zeb when he returned to the front of the group.

  “I would think not.” Zeb recognized the despondent look on Azerick’s face. “Don’t let it get you down, son. Life is hard all by itself, but some people insist on making it harder than it needs to be. Don’t let it make you hard on yourself.”

  “You’re right, Zeb. I know. I’m just getting so tired of all the death that seems to happen around me. Just once I would like to be an agent for good—for life.”

  The old captain scowled at the young man. “Look around you, boy! That is exactly what you are to these people! If it weren’t for you, they would be living and dying as slaves right now. They know you are good, and they know you have given them a chance at a real future. You have made good things happen, and you have the power and character to make a lot more good things happen for a lot of people. I see the greatness in you, lad, and so do they.”

  Azerick looked into the faces of the dirty, exhausted people around him. Several men nodded and the women smiled as he looked at them.

  “Thanks, Zeb, I’ll do my best to remember that. Let’s find a place to rest a while. I’m beat.”

  The tattered and weary company plodded on for another hour before finding a suitably large yet defensible cavern in which to rest. Azerick channeled much of his remaining energy into a large stalagmite, heating it until it glowed bright orange and started to crack under the intense heat. The spire put off enough heat to keep the group of humans warm for several hours as they rested. Toron woke him some time later. Azerick saw that most everyone was up and preparing to move once more.

  “Toron, I completely forgot about your injury. How are you doing?” Azerick asked the big minotaur.

  “I will survive, though it does pain me a small amount,” Toron replied.

  Azerick knew that for Toron to admit to any pain it must be quite severe. “Let me take a look at it before we move out. I may be able to make a compress to dull the pain and quicken the healing.”

  “If you think it is necessary I will supplicate myself to your ministrations,” Toron acquiesced, secretly grateful for any help in relieving the discomfort. His pride insisted it was only because it might hinder his fighting ability.

  Azerick held a light up close and gently smoothed the coarse hair away from the wound to see it better. Even this gentle touch made the stout creature flinch. The damage was evident, and Azerick was amazed that even a hardy creature like Toron was able to endure such injury without complaint for so long. An area the size of a smal
l dinner plate was swollen and purple. He could feel the sharp edges of at least three fractured ribs that must have been grinding together and causing an extreme amount of pain.

  Azerick winced internally at the sight of the injury. “I need to bandage these ribs immediately. That should help keep them from moving about as much. I can also make a poultice to numb the tissue and take down the swelling.”

  Toron simply nodded while Azerick used the last of his water to make a paste out of some of the herbs he carried. He then tore several shirts, almost the last of the spare clothing any of them possessed, into long strips. He applied the paste in a thick glob over the injury then wrapped the linen strips tightly over it and around the minotaur’s broad chest.

  Azerick paused tying off the bandage as his breath caught. His mind recalled the time he had met Delinda after his first fight and how she had treated a similar injury of his. With great effort, Azerick pushed this memory down where he collected and stored the other traumatic experiences of his life. The young sorcerer still had a duty to perform. His mourning would have to wait a bit longer.

  “I wish I could do more for you, but that’s the best I can do for now,” Azerick told him.

  “I thank you for your help. It feels better already.”

  “Just try to avoid any fighting for a few weeks,” Azerick advised sarcastically.

  “Only if fighting avoids us,” Toron rumbled without a hint of mirth.

  Azerick walked next to Zeb as they negotiated their way through the underground labyrinth of tunnels. His people were exhausted, scared, and their rations were almost gone. Everyone was looking to him for all the answers, but he did not have any.

  “I had to use the last of my water making a poultice for Toron. How is everyone else doing?”

  “Not good. Even drinking sparingly, this will be the last day any of us will have so much as a drop to drink.”

  Toron’s deep voice came from behind them. “As we near the surface we should find water as it seeps through the ground above and feeds the natural aquifers below. Every stalagmite and stalactite you see was formed by dripping water and minerals.”

  Azerick added, “All we can do is keep going and hope we find an underground spring or pool.”

  At the next short rest break Azerick, Zeb, and Balor collected every skin and jug containing any amount of water, consolidated it before passing it around, and gave an equal amount to each person. When the last person drank their mouthful, the last of the water was completely depleted. Unless they found water soon, their exodus may well come to an ignoble end.

  The small company marched until the weakest among them became too exhausted to continue before stopping for another long rest. Everyone’s throat was parched, and people were becoming irritable and despondent, but their common cause helped keep them together. Another obstacle presented itself about three hours into the day’s march when the tunnel they were following came to an abrupt end.

  “Damn all the dark luck to the abyss!” Zeb cursed. “The last time the tunnel branched was where we started this morning!”

  A young man by the name of Derran stepped toward the wall, craning his neck up to try and glimpse the top of the cavern hidden in darkness. At a lad of only sixteen, Derran was the youngest sailor and former slave amongst them. He was known for his keen eyesight and was often put on watch duty in the crow’s nest when they were at sea.

  “I think the tunnel might continue up there. It looks a little darker toward the top than the surrounding rock,” he said. “This wall don’t look too hard to climb. I’ll scramble up there and take a closer look.”

  Derran found some suitable handgrips and hiked one leg up, pushing off with it as soon as he found a secure foothold. He brought his other leg up and began to scale the rough rock face. The young sailor let out a yelp of surprise and appeared to levitate up the wall.

  Without hesitating to think, Azerick ran forward, leapt as high as he could, grabbed ahold of the belt strapped around Derran’s waist, and pulled himself up, climbing the lad’s back like it was cargo netting. Whatever had ahold of Derran was reeling both young men up the side of the wall like an angler landing a fish.

  “When we get to the top, grab the ledge as tightly as you can,” Azerick spoke into his ear as he climbed higher up Derran’s back.

  The two humans were nearly twenty feet above the cave floor when they reached the edge of the tunnel high above the humans gathered at the base of the wall. Azerick’s head appeared over the ledge first, and he stared into the black, bulbous eyes of some strange chitin-covered creature.

  A long, black, ropey, tongue-like appendage extended between two large mandibles had attached itself to Derran and was reeling them both in. Not wanting to wait until they came within reach of the pair of massive claws the creature wielded, Azerick let loose a powerful blast of lightning right at the creature’s open mouth. Both humans dropped as the creature released its hold on its prey with a loud screech of pain. Fortunately, Derran had the presence of mind to grasp the ledge before they both fell painfully to the floor below.

  “Do you have a good grip?” Azerick asked the struggling young man under him.

  “Not good enough if you don’t get off my back in the next few seconds,” he grunted.

  Azerick grabbed at the rough floor of the cave and pushed off Derran’s shoulders until he was able to get his center of gravity over the ledge and safely onto the cave floor. He spun around on his stomach, grabbed Derran’s wrists, and helped pull him up over the ledge. The two young men sat on the ledge a moment to catch their breath.

  “Hey, you two all right up there?” Zeb called up from below.

  Azerick poked his head over the edge and answered. “Yeah, we’re fine. Derran was right. The passage continues up here.”

  “Well if you’re done foolin’ around with the local wildlife, maybe you can help get the rest of us up.”

  Azerick could see Zeb’s teeth shining in the light he carried and knew the old coot was teasing him. He would get everyone else up in a moment, but first he wanted to make sure there were no more surprises waiting for them up here. Derran drew one of the gnome picks from his belt as Azerick stepped toward the creature now lying dead on its back.

  “Oh, man, that thing stinks,” Derran complained, drawing his arm over his nose.

  He looked it over as Azerick conjured up another light to get a better look at what lay behind it. The tunnel continued for as far as the sorcerer’s light could illuminate. Azerick turned around and walked back toward the edge with the intention of bringing everyone else up. He saw Derran digging his fingers into a large crack his lightning bolt had rent in the creature’s hard carapace. Before Azerick could say anything, the lad drew out a large piece of white flesh cooked by the intense heat of his lightning bolt, and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “Hey, it tastes kind of like crab! Needs butter though.”

  “Great, if you don’t die from poisoning we can eat some fresh meat tonight.”

  He stopped chewing. “You think it’s poisonous,” his words muffled by the meat stuffed in his cheeks.

  Azerick grinned. “Probably not, but I think the rest of us will wait a bit before joining you for dinner.”

  Derran shrugged his shoulders and began chewing again, figuring if the meat was poisonous it was too late to spit it out now. At least he would die with a full stomach. Azerick stepped near the edge of the cave and cast his magical doorway to get the rest of the group up to the top.

  Further exploration revealed a small pool of water about a hundred feet farther back down the tunnel. It was more of a puddle than a pool. Dripping water had formed a bowl in the floor of the cave about three feet across and three inches deep. By the time everyone drank their fill and refilled everything that could hold water, the basin was nearly dry. The water had a strong taste of minerals, but it was cool and refreshing, and no one was about to complain. Derran did not yet feel any ill effects from eating the cave creature, so Azerick used his
magic to cook the meat the sailors and women cut from the carcass.

  They had only been marching a few hours today, but they decided this would be a good place to rest and recuperate from their long ordeal before continuing their journey. Since there was no night or day in this subterranean abyss, the group did not need to wait for the sun to rise before marching on. After several hours of rest, they were ready to resume their quest to the surface.

  Mile after mile the group trudged through the cold, dank cavern, wondering if they would ever find their way out. All Azerick could do was encourage them to push on and try to ease the fearful mutterings of those who were rapidly losing all hope.

  Near the end of the next day, excited whispering began to circulate among the refugees as a faint draft became evident within the tunnel. The whispers broke into wild cheering when one of the lead men shouted back that there was light up ahead. Azerick, Zeb, Toron, and the rest of the weary, runaway slaves raced toward the orange glow and fresh air streaming into the tunnel from a large cleft partway up the side of a mountain range.

  The sun was just setting, so they decided to spend one last night sheltered in the confines of the cave, but with jubilation not felt since they had escaped their captors. Azerick sat with his back to the fire burning brightly, made from wood foraged from the forest below, and stared out at the clear, star-filled night.

  Zeb took a seat next to the young sorcerer. “You did it, lad. You gave these people hope, and you gave them their freedom.”

  “Maybe there is something else waiting for me other than a life of anger and vengeance. What are you going to do now, Zeb?”

  “Find a port and a ship I guess. That’s all I really know. I imagine some of the other lads will follow me. Some may be done with sailing; not as I could blame them.”

  “I guess we will see soon enough.”

  “Yep.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Everyone woke early to watch what they all considered to be the most glorious sunrise of their lives. Men, women, and minotaur stared at the glowing horizon and watched in hushed anticipation as the ultimate symbol of freedom crested over the distant hills. Some wept, some hugged those next to them, and all felt their spirits brighten as the soft, golden rays of the great fiery orb burned away the darkness and destroyed the oppressive bleakness from their souls.