Azerick did not bother to correct him. “I met some dwarves a couple of years back and stayed with them for a while. I picked up a few words while I worked with their rune carver, Duncan.”
“Well shave my beard and call me an elf, Duncan was rune carver of my old clan! How’d ya like the old hole in the ground?”
Azerick chilled everyone’s mugs. “I thought it was amazing, but after a few months I needed to be going. The surface was calling me back I suppose.”
“Yeah, it’ll do that, let me tell you.”
“So tell me what it is you are all after,” Azerick said, directing the conversation to his goal.
“I told you that we were working on behalf of the King. He needs us to find and return as many pieces of Dundalor’s Armor as we can. Are you familiar with the artifact?” Azerick nodded affirmatively. “We know his enemies have at least some of the pieces. We are trying to prevent them from obtaining the completed set.”
“Because once complete it becomes several orders of magnitude more powerful,” Azerick replied.
“Yeah, you could almost say godlike,” Maude agreed.
“Do you have any information on where any of the pieces are now?”
Maude’s face dropped at the sorcerer’s question. “No, we almost had the boots a few days ago, but we were ambushed by someone. That was when we lost Tarth.”
“It would seem our meeting was a small part of fate in the grand scheme of our destiny. It just so happens that I know where to find the helm. We may yet be able to break up the set,” Azerick proclaimed.
“You do? That’s great—so long as it’s not on the other side of the world or, worse yet, on the moon.”
Azerick smiled. “As an even greater sign of preordained good fortune, the helm is only a few days ride from here.”
“I knew this was far too good to be true,” Borik mumbled as he drained the third cup of cold beer.
Maude looked at the dwarf. “What do you mean? This is great news. No boats and we might even be finished with this by the end of the month!”
“Not the stupid armor, that all sounds great. I’m talking about this.” Borik grumbled twirling his cup in his hand. “I’m all out of cold beer!”
Azerick laughed, almost not recognizing the sound as coming from him, and filled Borik’s cup from the pitcher and dropped in another ice ball.
“One thing I have been meaning to ask you,” Maude said, leaning forward. “How did that sheepherder beat Butch?”
Azerick allowed himself a small triumphant smile. “I spiked his wine with a potion that gave him more confidence, improved his reflexes, made him a little stronger, a little faster, and basically let him fight a little better than his natural talent would normally allow.”
“So you did cheat!” Maude exclaimed, but the smile on her face showed that she did not find the thought offensive to her morals.
“Did I? Does a warrior cheat when he sharpens his sword? Does an archer cheat when he waxes his bowstring? I do not feel as though I cheated, I merely waxed my bowstring.”
The watch captain returned with his squad of watchmen and tromped up to Maude’s table, interrupting their conversation.
“Captain, I hope you are not here to arrest me again,” Azerick said wearily, not even bothering to face the man.
The Captain wagged his head. “I don’t know, I really don’t know! I have been with the watch since I was sixteen years old. I made captain at twenty-three. In all that time, I have never had to deal with the amount of carnage you have brought to this town in one night. Sure, we’ve had a few fights that ended up with some serious wounds, a few dead. In one hour, you not only kill a local citizen, with magic, you have apparently managed to kill yourself with what looks like a flaming arbalest bolt and left your own dead body in your room. What am I supposed to do! Can you tell me?”
“Captain, there are plots within plots raging throughout the kingdom, and the time is going to come when we will all have to choose a side. Greater powers than you and I are determined to clash. The ensuing calamity is going to devour small towns like this. If I were you, I would go home, kiss my wife and tell her I love her, pack up everything I own, and move to North Haven to get out of this awful heat. That is what I would do, Captain.”
The Captain ground his teeth, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the tavern.
“You killed yourself in your room?” Maude asked. “So are you a ghost or something?”
“Who cares, hey, spooky, pour me another cold one,” Borik slurred.
“I was attacked by what I am certain was a doppelganger in my room as soon as I left here earlier. It got kind of messy.”
“Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”
“You know, far more often than one would expect,” Azerick said and sipped his beer.
EPILOGUE
The flickering shadows of several robed men cast by large candles and torches danced upon the dull grey walls of the musty, ancient chamber where they sat around the rough-hewn stone table plotting the overthrow and death of King Jarvin, the lawful ruler of Valeria.
“Ulric’s man has betrayed him and now holds the armor for himself. One of the very concerns I raised previously has come to pass,” one of the hooded figures stated.
“Our associates within the black tower have assured me that they are still in contact with the General and are guiding him to the other pieces. Not only will they secure the entire set for us to present to whomever we support for the throne, but they have also assured me that the elimination of the King’s pet adventurers is only days from being accomplished,” the head of the cabal returned.
“Bah, I say it is bad business collaborating with that pack of vipers from the black tower. How can we trust them, given their heritage?”
“The wizards know they cannot succeed in their plans without our support. The people would tear down their towers just as they did those many decades ago when they sought to abuse their power. They have no one to don the armor and lead a force sufficient to take, much less hold, the throne.”
“What of the General? He commands loyalty and could gather the King’s opposition to him and take the throne for himself. That shrew, Duchess Paullina, would throw herself at any man she thought might get her closer to the throne.”
“The General is not widely known outside of Southport. Any attempt of his to raise an army sufficient to challenge Jarvin would take a great deal of time. Neither does he have the financial support to pay for an army the size needed to do so even if he did gain access to Paullina’s coffers. I would not worry. The black tower will retrieve the armor and turn it over to us in exchange for our support.”
“What of this mercenary rabble Ulric has hired? He has them sacking towns and raiding caravans within Valeria. His foolish actions will risk bringing Jarvin’s attention down upon us all! All that blasted Blackguard needs is one whiff of treachery, and they will run us all to ground like bloodhounds on a trail.”
“Ulric’s contingency plan is rather audacious and fraught with risks, I agree. However, with him and his trained dogs terrorizing the countryside, Jarvin’s attentions are completely deflected from anything happening right under his very roof. That makes our own contingencies that much easier to put in place and remain undetected. Fear not my brothers, Solarian shields us in his divine light, it will not reveal us.”
“Speaking of Solarian’s light, what of the undead problem?”
“Although the problem appears widespread, the church is doing well at returning the creatures to rest. I am certain they will keep the problem under control and will have no trouble eliminating it once we cleanse the tainted blood from the throne. Such foulness cannot survive the radiance of Solarian’s light for long.”
“Blessed is the light of Solarian,” chanted everyone around the table.
The End
Book 4
The Sorcerer’s Vengeance
CHAPTER 1
General Baneford stepped out of the blaz
ing sun and into his command tent, eager to get out of the fiery orb’s merciless glare. He and his men had been riding hard for several days, and he was exhausted. When he saw the black-robed wizard sitting in his chair once again, it failed to startle or even impress him. He had gotten used to the spell slinger’s sudden appearances.
He did take note of several large trunks that he was unfamiliar with stacked along the back of his tent. The wizard smiled under his hood, vacated the chair, and chose one nearby. The general pulled at the straps of his armor, let it fall to the floor, and removed his sweat-soaked helm, the only part of his armor that was not of the fabled artifact.
“You failed to eliminate Jarvin’s treasure hunters,” the wizard said without preamble.
General Baneford sat down heavily in his chair and poured the wizard and himself a glass of wine. “I hadn’t expected the elf to bring down half the blasted mountain on top of our heads, but we got their wizard. It should be a simple matter to get the rest of them with a similar trap.”
“That will not be necessary. I have an agent already within their ranks who will not only kill them for us but also hand deliver the remaining piece of your—my armor. Do you see the nice things I do for you? It is important that partners help each other when they can. I believe it builds trust, an essential element for any successful partnership.”
General Baneford was secretly relieved that the wizard was not upset at their partial victory, or complete failure, depending on one’s point of view. It could have led to a rather ugly confrontation. He had lost many good men thanks to that blasted wizard, and he was in no mood for a lecture or reprimand. His hands and fingernails still bore indications of the abuse they suffered digging their way out of tons of fallen rubble. Besides, he had put up with enough abuse from Ulric, and he would be damned if he was going to take any more. He was his own man now and would be subservient to no one.
The General allowed himself a small smile as he pictured Ulric swinging from the King’s gibbet in the middle of Rose Plaza. All it would take was one little letter from him telling the Jarvin all about Ulric’s attempted coup. Nevertheless, he had taken several oaths, and he would not betray them even now. Besides, he would likely swing right next to him.
General Baneford snapped out of his contemplations and fixed the wizard with a look. “Have you come to deliver the things promised in our bargain then?”
The wizard clapped his hands together. “Indeed I have, General, indeed I have.”
Krendall strode over to the trunks and popped lids open with a wave of his hand. General Baneford stood and leaned over the trunks, peering disinterestedly at the contents inside. He set his glass on a nearby shelf and pulled out a breastplate. The finish was exceptionally smooth, no blemishes caused by the smith’s hammer warped or marred its brilliant finish in any way. Elaborate designs were etched into the steel, but the surface remained as smooth as glass, leaving no imperfections that would allow an arrow or weapon to gain purchase.
The General had seen more than one wealthy young nobleman die from a lance, spear, or arrow because he wore armor with more ornament than function. The tip of the weapon had bit into the steel because of some stamped coat of arms where it would have skipped off harmlessly had the armor been plain and smooth. These magnificent pieces somehow managed to accomplish both.
He pulled out pieces at random from the different chests. All were of extraordinary craftsmanship even if they had not been enchanted, but that was what he had been promised.
“How am I to know that these bare any kind of beneficial enchantments?” the general asked the wizard.
“I can cast a spell that would make any item with magical properties glow with a faint aura, but you would have to trust me in that as well. I do know a spell that would make a perfectly mundane item appear to have a magical enchantment upon it. Unless you have a spellcaster amongst your men that you trust implicitly, you will have to take me at my word that these arms and armor are precisely what we agreed upon.”
“I will take your word for it.” General Baneford did actually believe the mage, something that surprised him.
“Excellent. Your personal equipment is in that trunk there. How you distribute the others is of course up to you.”
The wizard handed him a large, facetted black gem. “My agent will contact you through this. All you need to do is take it into your hand and concentrate your thoughts upon it. You will hear his voice through the gem and vice versa. You will know when he is trying to contact you because the gem will become warm and emit a tingling sensation so long as it is within a few feet of you.”
The General took the gem into his hand with trepidation. Magical swords and armor was one thing, strange speaking gems were another. As beneficial as this arrangement had been, not counting the losses of the last mission, he would be glad to excise his relationship with this enigmatic man.
“Now, I think we have covered everything here. I hope to see you again in the next week so you can fulfill your part of our agreement and conclude our most mutually beneficial business transaction. Good day, General,” the wizard said and stepped through the magical gate that sprang up behind him.
***
Captain John Cruthers watched the wizard and his companions ride out of town early the next night, wisely choosing to travel after dark when the heat of the day had sufficiently ebbed. He had met many hard and dangerous men in his tenure as an officer in Sandusk. It was a hard town, in a hard region, and it tended to draw hard men, but never had he been more relieved to see a man leave than the mage.
It still surprised him when he thought about it. He looked at the wizard’s face and saw a man several years his junior, just past the transition point of boy to man, but one look into his eyes, the slightest brush against that invisible aura of power, and he made him feel like a child looking upon his father—or at the dangerous end of a loaded crossbow. It was beyond unnerving.
It surprised him that he was actually considering the young man’s suggestion about leaving this town and its wildly swinging climate. This was the season of mild, even warm, nights, but in a few weeks the temperature would go from scorching hot to below freezing the moment the sun went down. He looked back at the town and thought this was certainly no place to raise a family.
Maude and her reformed company once more found themselves riding through the parched, scrubby wasteland with the obstinate and almost intelligently rude camel in tow. The wizard, Azerick, had actually purchased him outright because he feared they may not be coming back through Sandusk and did not want the man who rented him out to suffer the loss. That small act of selflessness did more to settle any concerns of trusting the stranger with such an important mission than anything else.
Maude missed Tarth terribly. She missed his peculiarity even if he did botch some spells as often as not. He was possibly the best friend she ever had, probably because he was so different. She felt just a little less peculiar herself when he was around. He was the only person other than her mother allowed to call her by her full name. Somehow, it just sounded natural coming from the elf’s mouth.
They ate surprisingly well thanks to the food Azerick endlessly pulled from his magical bag. Everyone agreed that they needed to get at least one for themselves and were disappointed when the spellcaster said it was the first one he had ever heard of much less seen.
She knew that Azerick probably was not going to stay on beyond delivering the helm to King Jarvin, if he even went that far. The wizard seemed completely indifferent to any form of reward that Maude mentioned, even hypothetically. She asked him if he could have anything in the world, what it would be, and he simply told her that the one thing he wanted could never be granted by another. He doubted even the gods could give him what he truly desired.
His apparent lack of greed did give her some misgivings. If he did not want gold, nobility, or power what was his motivation, and what made him suddenly change his mind about joining her group? The assassin had tried to kill him,
but he said he was not the first to try. She had gotten that much out of him. She asked what he did when he was not trekking through the desert, and he said he ran an orphanage in North Haven!
A thought occurred to her, and she could absolutely kick herself for not having caught it sooner. Not only had he been near the two artifacts when they met in Sandusk, he already knew the location of the helm! Was he trying to acquire it for himself? It would be near useless without the rest of the suit, and what would a wizard do with it?
Maude was certain that the men who had ambushed them were likely the same group that had killed the King’s special guard and recovered at least two of the pieces from them. She even saw the large man wearing that unnaturally black armor in the temple, which had to have been Dundalor’s armor.
If Azerick had been with those men, surely he would have made his presence known and stopped their retreat. She, Borik, and Malek had ridden hard straight back to Sandusk, and Azerick had shown up only a couple hours after they had returned. Then again, who knew how fast he could travel with his powers.
Damn it, Maude, you are going to think yourself into a state of paranoia if you keep this up! He changed his mind, that’s all. He has so far shown himself to be honest and honorable, even if he is reserved in talking about himself. You need him. If he tries to betray us, you will catch him and take off his head, or he will use his magic to fry us all dead.
She decided that she would talk to Malek about it later. He had magical powers of his own that may help quell her doubts or validate her concerns. She knew Borik would be no help. He lost his objectivity long before he reached the bottom of his first cold mug of beer. Azerick was the long lost brother for which he would gladly trade his mother. It did not help that Borik talked him into stuffing six small kegs of near-frozen ale into his magic sack.
She was starting to think Borik might be developing a drinking problem. He nearly wet himself giggling so hard when Azerick stuck a wooden stick into a mug of beer and froze it solid for him. He followed Azerick around like a puppy, licking the frozen beer treat in his hand. She should be grateful. This was about ten times longer than Borik had ever gone without complaining for as long as she could remember. The dwarf even complained in his sleep for the gods’ sake!
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 104