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

by Brock Deskins

  The three former slaves looked at each other as the plump mayor walked out of the inn. Balor was the first to break the silence as Zeb sat back down with them.

  “He seems sincere. Do you still think there is danger here?” Balor asked Azerick.

  “I don’t know. I wish I did, but I just do not know,” Azerick replied shaking his head.

  “He is hiding something, keeping something from us, but I do not think he means us harm,” Toron said, adding his deep voice to the conversation for the first time.

  “What do you think he is hiding? We have nothing to steal or swindle.” Zeb said.

  “So what should we do?” Balor asked.

  Azerick stood up from the table. “I for one am going to take a warm bath and eat every bit of food they will give me.”

  “And drink all the ale!” Toron joined in enthusiastically.

  The three men, the minotaur, and Cook took advantage of the large communal bath while the rest of the men and women were shown to their rooms and cleaned up in the provided wash tubs. The communal bath was far nicer than any of them had expected. It was simply tiled, but it was six feet on each side and three feet deep. Wisps of steam rose above the water, promising a deeply relaxing soak.

  “Now this is what I needed,” Azerick sighed, feeling relaxed for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  The water rose to just under his chin as he sat on a small stone step running along the entire bottom of the bath. The heat soaked deep into his muscles, unraveling knots that had been tense for so long he thought the pain was a normal part of his existence.

  “It is grand,” Zeb agreed. “However, I’m afraid I’m going to end up with more hair on me than Toron by the time we’re done,” he remarked as he pinched a wad of coarse, reddish-brown fur between his fingers and flung it onto the floor.

  “You should be so lucky,” rumbled Toron, not even bothering to open his eyes.

  “I feel like a clam being boiled for supper. Mm, steamed clams,” Cook mumbled sleepily.

  Nearly an hour later, their skin as wrinkled as prunes, the men finally pried themselves away from the luxurious bath. Azerick noticed that the water never cooled, and the bottom seemed to radiate heat.

  “They must have pipes running just under the bottom tiles with heat fed by a furnace or the kitchen stoves. It is a clever idea whoever thought of it,” Azerick remarked.

  They started to put their old, filthy clothes back on when the innkeeper stepped in carrying a stuffed burlap sack. “The mayor organized a collection, and folks from the town donated a bunch of clothes. It’s nothing you would want to wear to a ball, but it’s clean and in decent shape. I would offer to get your own things washed, but I think they would all unravel if we tried.”

  Zeb took the bag from the innkeeper and thanked him for his and the townsfolk’s continued generosity. Belkin nodded in appreciation and left them to get dressed. Zeb dumped the bag out and picked through the various articles of clothes, sizing everyone up as best he could. There was plenty to choose from, so it was not hard to find something for everyone. They even found a large pair of overalls and a heavy sleeveless shirt that almost fit Toron.

  When they finally walked out of the bath chamber, they found most of their band seated at the tables drinking wine, beer, and ale. In front of them were plates laden with slabs of beef, cooked vegetables, and fried potatoes. Loaves of bread so fresh it was still warm filled baskets on the tables. Many of the men broke out in cheers and applause when Zeb and Azerick stepped into the common room.

  They took a seat at an empty table and were promptly served. Everyone’s mouth began watering even before the plates were set down. The food was as delicious as it was plentiful. It was slow going, but Azerick managed to finish his plate, even going so far as to wipe it clean with a chunk of bread. When he looked over at Toron, he was surprised to see the minotaur was only half finished with his meal. Then he noticed the two empty plates beneath the one from which he was eating.

  Azerick and Zeb were both leaning back in their chairs to take some of the pressure off their stomachs and sipping at ale when the mayor entered the common room. He gazed around the room until his eyes settled on Zeb and Azerick. He gave them a friendly wave, which only Zeb returned, and strode over to their table.

  “Gentlemen, I trust you and your people are feeling better after a good bath and a fine meal?” he asked cordially.

  “And clean clothes,” Zeb added with a smile. “We owe you and your townspeople a great deal for their generosity and kindness.”

  Azerick shot the captain a hard look of caution. “It would not be called generosity if one expected something in return; only payment.”

  “Please, think nothing of it, we are all glad to help,” Remkin replied, waving off Zeb’s feeling of indebtedness. “However, if you would like to return a kindness with a kindness I do have a small request. I have kept the locals away from here, at great difficulty I might add, so you and your friends could refresh yourselves and eat in peace, but soon Belkin will have to open his doors to his regular customers and likely a great deal of infrequent ones. Everyone in town is going to want to meet you all, buy you drinks, and hear of your arduous journey. If you would be kind enough to indulge a bit of their curiosity then please consider any debt you feel you may be beholden to paid in kind.”

  “I’m sure my people would be glad to entertain yours with tales of their adventures and travels. It’s the least we could do,” Zeb responded and gripped the mayor’s soft, meaty hand in his own, once again missing Azerick’s glare.

  “I have passed the word that we mustn’t pry too hard. If any of your folk feel as though anyone is overly nosy, please do not be afraid to politely tell them so.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be just fine, Mayor,” Zeb assured him.

  With a polite nod, Mayor Remkin excused himself and left. Within minutes, local townsfolk started filtering into the inn and ordering drinks and food. They slowly began striking up conversations and buying drinks for the newcomers, hoping to elicit a few stories from them. It was not hard to do. Most of the former sailors enjoyed spinning yarns and chatting with new faces.

  Three young women from the town surrounded young Derran. He regaled them with his daring exploit with the cave creature that roped him in and nearly made a meal of him. Except in his version, it was Azerick who had been caught, he who had jumped onto his back, and plunged his pick through the creature’s brain. The girls let out a squeak of shock then broke into fits of laughter when Derran told them of how he had reached into the creature’s cracked shell, plucked out a chunk of meat, and popped it into his mouth. Azerick did not mind the young man’s spin on the event since it left his sorcery unmentioned.

  After several rounds of drinks, people even gathered the courage to talk to the taciturn Toron. A loud, angry bellow and the sound of toppling chairs suddenly broke the congenial atmosphere and ended every conversation.

  Azerick looked toward the commotion and saw that Toron had a local man pressed against the wall with one huge hand wrapped around his throat and holding the man a foot above the floor so the angry minotaur could look him in the eyes. Azerick sprinted across the room and laid a hand on Toron’s muscular arm.

  “Toron, let him go! What’s the matter?”

  “This fool asked if my eating the beef tonight was something akin to cannibalism!” Toron growled. “Do I look like some grass-eating, cud-chewing, simple-minded bovine!” the minotaur roared.

  The terrified man tried to shake his head, but Toron’s powerful grip held it fast. The man’s face was turning purple, and Azerick knew he had to diffuse the situation quickly.

  “To be honest with you, Toron, there is a striking resemblance from the neck up. A most powerful and impressive bull to be sure, but the similarity is quite uncanny.” Azerick said with a grin. “Please, Toron, these are isolated people who know very little outside their own valley. I doubt many of them have ever even heard of your people and meant no o
ffense.”

  Toron looked at the terrified man he held then smiled widely, revealing his sharp, prominent teeth. “Forgive my abruptness and prickly nature. I have shown myself to be a poor guest.” Toron set the man gently back onto his feet and released his grip on the terrified man’s throat.

  “Think nothing of it, sir. I should have known better.” Toron clapped the man on the back amidst the strained laughter of the onlookers.

  Azerick took a seat in a shadowed corner of the common room and hoped he would be able to pass the rest of the night in peace. The drinks kept flowing and laughter and revelry grew louder as the night progressed. He spotted the mayor several times making rounds through the common room, stopping to visit each table. Mayor Remkin spotted the quiet young man in the corner, but the look on Azerick’s face convinced him he was in no mood for conversation or joining the festivities.

  “What is your game, Mayor? What is it you want from us, and when are you going to tell us what it is?” Azerick wondered aloud.

  Azerick soon tired of sulking in his dark corner and decided to go to his room and read a bit of the ancient tome he had escaped with before going to sleep. He glanced over once at Toron’s table before ascending the stairs to reassure himself that the big minotaur was not apt to cause any more trouble.

  Toron was currently arm wrestling a big farmer who must have been the one who donated the clothes that came close to fitting him. The minotaur put the farmer down easily. Azerick felt it safe to leave him alone as Toron squared off against two men at once and was seconds away from pressing both opponents’ hands to the tabletop.

  Zeb and the rest of the men Azerick currently shared accommodations with staggered into the room with the usual amount of excessive noise intoxicated men usually do at various hours of the early morning. He woke the final time just as the sun rose to the smell of alcohol fumes expelled by his friends’ loud snoring. He got dressed and quietly descended the stairs even though he could have ridden a horse down them without waking the occupants.

  The first thing Azerick saw when he came down the stairs was a large number of his men had not made it back to their rooms and lay scattered about the common room with an equal number of locals sleeping off the effects of their revelry in chairs, sprawled across tables, or lying under them. The second thing he noticed was the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. Azerick decided to poke his head through the swinging door and spotted the middle-aged woman named Sarah busily preparing the morning meals. She turned and found him looking through the door at her.

  “Good morning to you. I’m surprised to see anyone up this early,” Sarah greeted him warmly.

  “Sorry, I did not mean to distract you from your duties. I am sure I will be about the only one up for quite some time.”

  “It’s no bother. Would you like a bite of something to eat? I just pulled out some small loaves stuffed with cheese and sausage from the oven. It’s my personal specialty. You won’t find them anywhere else.”

  “If it’s no trouble it sounds like just the thing to accompany me. I thought I would walk around the town and enjoy the quiet, cool morning air.”

  “Here, take two then in case you work up an appetite while you’re out.” Sarah smiled and wrapped the small loaves in a clean linen towel.

  Azerick thanked her for her kindness and stepped out of the inn into the brisk early morning air. Fall was well upon the quiet valley. It would not be long until snow blanketed the entire vale and covered the mountains. He strode about the town, almost eerie in its stillness. The usual smells of city living were still evident but subdued. The odor of the tannery, horse stables, and emptied chamber pots would always carry on the air, but this early in the morning, it was more than tolerable.

  It did not take Azerick long to walk from one end of the town to other, and he decided to walk along the river for a while. He noticed the gates were closed and was disappointed at the thought he may not be able to get out until they were opened. A few guards walked the walls, and one stood next to the large, closed portal.

  “Good morn to ya! Out and about early I see,” the guard next to the gate hailed as he approached.

  “Good morning to you too. I was hoping to take a walk along the river before the sun rose overmuch,” Azerick replied as he drew next to the guard. “I see the gates are closed. Does this mean folks are not allowed to leave the town yet?”

  The guard gave a small laugh and shook his head. “Not at all. We keep the main gates closed for security is all.”

  “Do you see so much trouble out here to need such security?”

  The guard seemed to shuffle his feet and glance down at the ground. “No, not so much. We used to have an occasional raid by orcs or sneak thief goblins, but it has been quite some time since the last trouble arose.”

  He stepped over to a small postern gate Azerick had not noticed until now, lifted a heavy crossbeam out of its socket, and then opened it for him. “You’re more than free to come and go as you please.”

  “Ah, good, thank you.” Azerick stepped through the open door and wondered about the guard’s discomfort at his question.

  A low fog rolled over the ground as the rising sun slowly burned off the morning dew. He walked toward the river and followed along its bank, tossing rocks into the water, and letting his thoughts drift to nothing in particular. The sound of a rock turning under foot close behind him snapped him out of his reverie.

  He spun, tracing a sigil in the air as he pulled power from the Source, ready to unleash arcane energies against any threat. A young woman let out a squeal of surprise when Azerick faced her with dark intent evident in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry! I did not mean to startle you!” Anna said quickly.

  “Then you should not sneak up on people,” Azerick replied crossly and let the energy he gathered drain back into the ether.

  “I’m sorry. I was looking for plants and herbs along the ground. When I looked up you were right there. You looked distracted, and I thought I may startle you more if I called out.”

  Azerick grunted in reply and skipped another stone across the river’s dark surface. Anna warily stepped closer and stood a few feet to Azerick’s side. She was comely, perhaps a year or two younger than he was. She had soft brown hair plated in a typical rural fashion. She wore a simple, homespun linen dress with a light jacket and shawl to ward off the chill morning air. A canvas satchel was slung over her shoulder from which the green tops of various plants stuck out of the opening.

  “You are the herbalist the mayor mentioned, are you not? You fit his description; especially in the eyes.”

  “And what exactly did the good mayor say about my eyes that makes me so apparent?” Azerick asked sourly.

  “That they are distant, unfriendly, and seem to look right through you,” Anna boldly stated with a lift of her chin.

  “I guess the mayor has me figured out pretty well then.” Azerick skipped another rock across the water.

  “I do not think he does at all. I see a great deal of hurt in your eyes, and that your unfriendliness is deliberate to armor yourself against further pain.”

  Azerick turned and faced her once more. “What do you know of hurt and pain, living here in your nice, quiet, safe valley? Neither you nor your precious mayor know anything about me, or what I hide behind my eyes—or fail to obviously.”

  “I see you are in no mood for company. Forgive me for intruding. I shan’t bother you any longer,” Anna said and stalked away.

  With a grunt of anger and embarrassment, Azerick flung the stone he had in his hand out across the water as hard as he could. He needed an outlet, a way to let go of the anger, rage, and pain still boiling up within him. He almost wished he were back in the arena so he could unleash it all through his magic, hoping each lightning bolt or destructive spell would take away part of the fury and anguish seeming to infuse every part of his body.

  He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep breaths and letting himself sink into a tran
ce-like state. Once he felt reasonably calm, he continued his walk along the river, trying to burn off some of the excess energy running through him. The sun was approaching late morning, so he decided it was time to head back to the inn and see if Zeb and the others were up yet. The main gates were open now, and traffic milled about the streets. He spotted Zeb sitting at a table with the mayor as soon as he walked in. Zeb and the mayor both waved him over as soon as he entered.

  “Azerick my boy, I see you decided to wake early and go sightseeing. Tell me, what do you think of our fair town and countryside?” the mayor asked in his usual cheery voice.

  Azerick felt all the anger he had worked at suppressing come to a boil once more. He leaned onto the tabletop and glared at the fat man smiling up at him.

  “Enough of your pleasantries, Remkin! What is your game, and what do you want from us?”

  The morning crowd of guests and locals went dead silent at the young man’s outburst. All eyes in the room turned toward the source of the confrontation.

  Zeb watched the Mayor’s face go from fear to indignation at the young man’s effrontery. “Azerick, what are you doing? This man is our host and has been most gracious in accommodating us.”

  “He’s hiding something, and I damn well want to know what it is. People are not this selfless. Well, Mayor, what is it? Why are you trying to keep us here?”

  Mayor Remkin sighed and cut off Zeb’s continued apologies for Azerick’s rudeness. “The young man is right. I do want something from you. I was trying to delay your departure and hoped to convince you to stay a while longer.”

  “Why? Why would you go to so much effort to burden yourselves with a bunch of homeless refugees?” Zeb asked. “Most towns would be pushing us out as quickly as possible.”

  “It has become apparent that winter is going to come early this year, and it will be especially harsh. We do not have enough hands to bring in our late summer crops before the first frost comes. I was hoping I could convince your people to stay long enough to help us bring in the harvest before the frosts destroyed them in exchange for putting you all up in the interim. Several of the farmers have agreed to make room for you all to stay with them through the winter if you would agree to help.”