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

by Brock Deskins

  He cleaved the man’s skull in twain that had foolishly engaged him before wheeling his mount to the right and pushing toward the front of his beleaguered flank. His footmen surged forward to fill the gap their commander left and continued to press the enemy infantry.

  Kayne thought he could hear the faint ringing of tiny bells as he cut another man from his saddle. Looking about for the source, he spied a large man in full plate armor wearing the cape and blue-plumed helmet of a senior officer. The man was fighting with a berserker’s fury and doing a great deal of damage against his men, not just in terms of killing and wounding, but providing a powerful symbol of resistance that bolstered the morale of his men and degraded that of Kayne’s own.

  Kayne struck several more North Haven horsemen down as he carved his way toward Captain Brague. When he slew this jingling leader, it would have a great demoralizing effect on his enemy. Kayne had been a soldier for a long time, and he knew how much difference one brave and determined man could make in the hearts of those who followed him.

  One man, no matter the strength of his arm or the skill of his blade could turn the outcome of a battle. However, if that symbol of bravery could inspire the men around him and demoralize his enemies, then even the most assured victor could suddenly find himself on the losing end of the battle.

  Captain Brague turned just in time to see the sword come slashing at his head in a vicious over-hand chop. He pulled his sword from the crook of a man’s shoulder and neck and parried the powerful blow. The stroke sent an arm-numbing vibration through his blade, but the Captain ignored it as he looked into the furious, dark eyes of the man who nearly succeeded in ending his career and life.

  Captain Brague took in the man with a glance. His gleaming, black scale armor rippled like the skin of a dragon, his cloak looked to have been dipped in the blood of his enemies, and the long scar that bisected his left eye socket, leaving a milky white orb in its place, gave him the look of something that crawled out of the pits of hell.

  The man quickly put Captain Brague on the defensive with a series of swift, skillful strikes from his cruel sword. Wide and serrated along its spine, the blade slashed and thrust at him with speed, skill, and power that belied the man’s small stature. He knew that his success thus far was based heavily upon his rage, but this scarred man was a natural killer, skill and instinct came as naturally to him as breathing came to other men, and Captain Brague knew he was in trouble.

  Kayne slashed at the enemy commander and knew with certainty that the man would fall beneath his blade within moments. He could always tell the likely outcome of a fight within the first few exchanges by appraising his opponent’s skill, strength, and technique.

  Often times, a man would try to fool his opponent by pretending to stumble or show less skill than he truly possessed to lure his foe into making a mistake, but it never worked on Kayne. He had an innate ability to see through such simple tricks.

  Kayne attacked Captain Brague’s right side, rendering his shield nearly useless. This also put him on the same side as his good eye, eliminating the minor inconvenience of his blind spot. The enemy commander fought well, and for a time managed to parry and dodge Kayne’s assault, but the man’s strength was flagging, his swings coming just a little bit slower, and his reactions just a bit delayed.

  Kayne smiled in triumph as he swung a hard cut toward the Captain’s midriff. Captain Brague swept his sword across to parry the blow, but at the last moment, Kayne twisted his wrist and brought his blade over the top of his opponent’s. The Captain’s eyes went wide as he recognized the feint, and the wicked blade came slicing unopposed for his head.

  Men nearest the battle between the two leaders seemed to pause as the sharp ring of steel echoed loudly across the battlefield. Interspersed looks of triumph and horror watched on as the blue plumed helm went sailing through the air. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl. It seemed to take several long seconds for the helm to hit the ground, staring face up from the muddy, hoof-churned battlefield.

  Captain Brague saw the cut aimed for his guts and brought his sword down to intercept the blow before it spilled his innards out onto the back of his horse’s neck and the ground below. He thought his counter was going to be successful until he saw the scarred man’s wrist turn and flick the blade upwards, just skimming over the top of his own and flashing up toward his head.

  In that brief instant, his entire life flashed before his eyes. The blade struck with a resounding clang against his helm, his vision went black, and his ears no longer heard the chaos of battle around him. A black void of peacefulness enveloped him like a cool, silk bed sheet.

  ***

  “We need to move closer to the battle!” Azerick shouted. “Ellyssa, Roger, stay close to me. Do not let anyone get behind us.”

  The walls of fire, icy mists, and other magical death-dealing barriers were falling as the limits of their existence expired. Azerick led his group to the northern edge of the battle figuring that if the enemy broke they would retreat south toward friendly lines, and he did not want his friends to be in the path of the retreating men desperately fleeing for their lives.

  They were all beginning to fatigue from the near constant summoning and releasing of magical power. Even Ellyssa and Roger were beginning to feel the mental stress of focusing on their wands and scrolls to ensure that they were used effectively and accurately. They pushed closer to the battle, trying to get within range to aid North Haven’s army.

  They watched helplessly as Kayne’s cavalry brutally slammed into the defenders’ flank, effectively dividing North Haven’s cavalry into several smaller groups where their greater numbers could more easily finish them off. Knowing the battle was far from won, the spellcasters pushed aside their fatigue and launched a devastating salvo of fireballs and ice storms against the tight groups of infantry fighting their way south against North Haven’s desperate soldiers.

  One piece of good fortune for the outnumbered and outclassed defenders was that with Kayne’s archers scattered and all but destroyed, their own archers atop the high walls were now able to add their supporting fire with near impunity. Despite the renewed support, the ram managed to crush the gates open with its rhythmic pounding, and North Haven’s reserve elements were now fighting desperately to keep the mass of mercenaries from flooding through and wreaking havoc inside the city walls.

  It seemed that no matter how hard they fought, the enemy continued to press slowly but inexorably through the gates. Only the hastily erected barricades kept the enemy forces from spreading out once they were through the sundered gates and running amok through the city streets. Civilians ran out of homes and inns wielding a variety of weapons from old swords and spears to pitchforks, broom handles, and butcher knives. Men, women, and children broke their nails tearing up the cobblestones and hurling them at the slowly advancing enemy.

  Seeing her lines faltering, Duchess Mellina ordered her personal guard forward to bolster the brave men and women desperately fighting a losing battle to hold the gates. The Duchess led her soldiers herself despite their protests, stilling their entreaties for her to stay back with an icy glare.

  Their foes were beyond the barricades now and beginning to spread out. The trained mercenaries made short work of the civilians trying to defend their homes and families, but for every man and woman they cut down, two more jumped in, fearlessly taking their place.

  Duchess Mellina’s long, slender blade darted in and out of the vulnerable joints and visor slits of the enemy like a snake’s tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. The Duchess was a true lady in every sense, setting the standards of propriety and decorum that every woman in the kingdom could only try to emulate.

  However, beneath that veneer of civility laid the ruthless heart of a woman of profound strength and ability. Her father and then her late husband had taught her how to fight. Both great men often said that a leader must be ready and capable of defending their people against any who sought to do them harm.


  Seeing a leader standing proudly beside them in the heat of battle gave soldiers the strength and courage to stand against twice the number of men whose leader cowered in his castle or far behind the lines of battle and sent runners to issue orders to those fighting and dying in his or her name.

  No cries of fury ever escaped the ice queen’s perfect lips. Only the cold look of purpose and determination showed on the Duchess’s face as she bloodied one enemy after another. From the corner of her eye, she saw a spear questing for her side deflected by a slight man in the armor of her personal guard. His armor bore the dents and scratches of numerous turned blows. A slight kick to his mount’s flanks brought the young man close enough to allow him to thrust his sword beneath the spearman’s helm and through his neck.

  Duchess Mellina nodded her appreciation to her guard then glared suspiciously when she saw the emerald eyes looking out from behind the enclosed helm and the long lock of auburn hair that fluttered in the late winter breeze.

  Before she could say anything, the soldier kicked his mount ahead to engage another foe. Mellina could not afford to pay the matter further heed as she blocked the swing of a gap-toothed, unshaven man’s sword. Bending low over her saddle, she thrust her blade right between his gap that looked so much like the hole left in the wall by her sundered gates.

  ***

  Sound flowed back into Captain Brague’s ears and light returned to his eyes just in time to see Kayne hauling his sword back to finish the lethal blow his helm had turned. The Captain was not about to give him the chance. Kayne’s follow up stroke turned into a parry as Captain Brague’s fury renewed itself with a vengeance. He hacked at the mercenary leader like a man chopping wood.

  With absolutely no attempt at skill or finesse, Captain Brague screamed in rage, swung his longsword over his head, and battered against Kayne’s raised blade repeatedly, giving the lethal man no chance to do anything but absorb the punishment his sword and arm were receiving under the Captain’s relentless assault.

  Kayne saw in the enemy commander’s eyes and the berserker fury in his blows that he knew he was outmatched as a warrior, and that the only hope he had of winning was through sheer brutality. Kayne knew the strategy, had even had it used against him on multiple occasions, but in the end, they all simply wore themselves out until Kayne was able to slip his sword into their bodies and kill them. Such a tactic would often work against lesser men, but not against him.

  Kayne accepted the punishing blows upon the serrated back of his blade, figuring to let the Valerian notch and dull his sword until either it or his arm wore itself out. His hand and arm thrummed under the constant battering vibrations, but it was nothing he could not handle.

  The mercenary leader saw that the Captain was getting desperate as he threw his shield to the ground and gripped his sword with both hands, bringing it crashing down with all of his might, and releasing a savage roar of anger and frustration. For a second time, the battle around the two leaders paused as the peal of over-stressed steel rang out in protest.

  Kayne stared at his shattered blade in uncomprehending confusion. His eyes crossed in an attempt to look at the berserker captain’s longsword that was now firmly buried in his skull to a point just above the bridge of his nose.

  Captain Brague wrenched his longsword free with a spray of bone fragments and brain matter and let the mercenary leader’s corpse topple from his saddle, landing with a dull thud and the squelch of hoof-churned mud, blood, and slush.

  As word quickly spread of the undefeatable Kayne’s death and the continued onslaught of magic killing scores of men at a time, the remaining mercenaries and Ulric’s soldiers began a retreat to the south that quickly became an undisciplined rout.

  The wizards gave a short chase to discourage any who might change their mind, hurling balls of fire and another terrifying meteor storm from Allister into the retreating ranks.

  Azerick pulled up short after chasing the fleeing men to the edge of the forest. “We need to get to the docks! Ellyssa and Roger, go find Wolf and the others and let them know they are safe now. You can put shackles or hobbles onto the men we captured and use them to help clear the keep of corpses. Everyone else, follow me. We are not finished yet.”

  With an exhausted sigh, the others chased after Azerick as he raced toward the east city gates while Captain Brague and his men chased after the retreating mercenaries, ensuring that they did not get the chance to regroup and pillage the countryside.

  Without the hundreds upon hundreds of men shoving forward through the shattered gates, the mercenaries that had won their way into the city were now being pushed back at a faster pace than that which they had gained the ground to begin with.

  Duchess Mellina, her guards, and the defenders upon the walls were about the only true soldiers left to drive the invaders back out of the city. The rest were stalwart citizens, sailors, innkeepers, blacksmiths, and just about anyone who had the courage to pick up a weapon, stick, or rock and use it to defend their city.

  Azerick and his friends raced for the gates. A few of the men guarding the eastern gate recognized Azerick as he approached and shouted for them to open the gates. Soldiers on the inside opened a smaller sally gate and let them into the city without question. The party raced through the streets of North Haven toward the docks.

  Azerick sent Horse sliding on his hooves to a stop just before one of the wooden piers. All five of Zeb’s ships occupied the space at the end of the docks just as Azerick had instructed.

  The sorcerer jumped from his saddle and began giving instructions. “Rusty, I want you on the Iron Shark while I take Dolphin’s Grace. Umair, Maira, and Joshua, I want you three to split up between Majestic and the other two ships. Allister, you can lend your support to any of the other four.

  “We are going to help Zeb and his men take out those ships outside the harbor, intact if possible. I think Ulric put most every man he had on the ground, so I don’t think they will have large crews. At least I hope not. As long as we can take out their sails and weapons, we should be able to capture them. I do not want to sacrifice lives to try and take them intact. If they prove too difficult or costly, sink them.”

  “For Solarian’s sake, Azerick,” Rusty complained, “we are all exhausted, and I know you are too. We cannot take on the whole bloody world in one day.”

  Azerick laid a hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “I know you are tired, Rusty, we all are, just like you said; but we need to finish this, and the only way we can guarantee that it gets finished is to crush Ulric’s ability to wage war. We have helped rout their soldiers, and now we need to take apart his navy. If we can capture some of these ships, then we can help North Haven build its own navy to repel any future threat. Besides, it is a good chance to increase the number of our own ships, and that is just good business,” Azerick said with a smile.

  “When did you get so wrapped up in the sailing business?”

  “It’s in my blood, Rusty, it’s in my blood. Now, everyone make sure you have what you need and let’s get going.”

  Azerick ran down the dock toward Dolphin’s Grace while the others rode or ran toward the other ships. Zeb sent his cabin boy to watch after the horses they left behind, not needing him for what they were about to do.

  “All right, lad, you got us all here, so what are we doing?” Zeb asked.

  The deck and rigging were swarming with men, and dozens more were in the hold, every one of them armed and ready to do battle.

  “We are going to capture those ships. Barring that, we will sink them.”

  “Jumpin’ seahorses, boy, those are warships! War galleons with thick hulls and twice as many cats and ballista mounted on her than we have, not to mention the five hundred men each one of them can pack aboard.”

  “I can neutralize the ship’s weapons, and I think we have already routed most of that five hundred on the battlefield.”

  “That sounds like a whole lotta thinkin’ and not a whole lotta knowin”, Zeb countered. />
  “Look, Zeb, those men had to get here somehow, and I bet they didn’t walk, or someone would have seen them and warned us. I am betting that nearly all those troops were loaded aboard those ships and dropped off a little ways south of here, and they did not have time to return to Southport to load up another full compliment and return. That means they are probably carrying a standard compliment of men at best, more likely a skeleton crew.”

  Zeb ground his teeth as he chewed over the idea. “You willin’ ta bet your life on it, lad?”

  “Since I will be on board, the answer to that seems rather obvious.”

  “Cast off, ya louts, hoist the sails, and put your backs to the oars. We’re goin’ shoppin’ for some new boats!” Zeb turned back to face Azerick. “I hope ya haven’t forgotten about the little detail of the chain stretched across the harbor, or this is gonna be a short trip.”

  He had forgotten. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Azerick turned and saw the other ships casting off as well once Zeb ran up the signaling flags ordering them to get underway. Azerick took up a position at the bow of the ship and watched as they neared the harbor mouth and the massive chain stretched across it. The harbor was divided into two by a small rock formation jutting above the surface some ten feet at low tide with a chain running to it from a gatehouse on each opposing shore.

  As Dolphin’s Grace approached the massive chain barricade, Azerick once more allowed Klaraxis to come to the fore enough that he could use his abyssal power of decay and corruption against the massive steel links. Several links near the southern gatehouse turned black and corroded with unnatural speed. The steel flaked and crumbled until it could no longer support its own incredible weight and shattered under the pressure, sending the chain to sink into the sand and silt on the ocean floor.