“Every time I think you cannot surprise me with more impossible proclamations, you prove me wrong,” Allister grumbled.
“What is a Source pool?” Rusty asked.
Aggie answered, “As most of you know, the power we tap into to fuel our magic is the residual energy seeping into nearly everything in our world from what we call the Source. The true Source exists on a plane of reality far removed from our own. When we harness it for our magic, it is sort of like filling a glass by sticking your arm out of the window when it rains. It works, but it’s not efficient. A Source pool is much like it sounds. It is a direct well from where the Source springs directly into our world. It is the greatest dream of any practitioner of magic and nothing more than a theory wrapped in myth.”
“It is more than a theory or myth. I have seen one. It is what Lissandra used to extract me from the abyss. Unfortunately, it died with her. I think she may have exhausted it in her final repair of the barrier. Whatever the case, we must create another one.”
“You truly saw a Source pool?” Allister asked in awe.
“I traveled through it. It is—indescribable.”
“Even so, no one knows how to go about creating one. Not to mention, the amount of power it would take to bring one forth is beyond imaginable,” Aggie said.
“Raijaun and I, along with most of you, can do it…I think.”
“Do you still have the power with the demon purged from you?” Allister asked hesitantly. “Are you still able to tap into the power of the abyss? From what I understand, that was a significant factor in the strength of your magic.”
“I can still feel my connection with the abyss. I think because Klaraxis’ body is a construct of the abyss, it still maintains a link to that dark power. In fact, without his constant vying for dominance, I can exert myself further without fear of losing control.”
“Ah, yes, I always forget that little detail.”
Rusty’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying you are even more powerful than you were before?”
Azerick nodded. “In a sense. Technically, my power is the same, only now I can tap it to its full potential.”
“The gods preserve us,” Rusty mumbled under his breath.
“I assume you have an idea of how to accomplish this feat?” Aggie asked.
“I will have to consult the Codex more and, since this involves a great deal of transdimensional magic, I will need your help, Aggie.”
“Of Course, I wouldn’t want you to feel totally responsible for blowing us all up.”
“Could it really blow us up?” Ellyssa asked.
“There is an enormous amount of power involved, and anytime you are trying to harness that much volatile energy you run the risk of losing control,” Azerick admitted.
“How much energy are we talking about, how much damage?”
“Enough that the Scions and their minions might not have much to do when they get here.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
Aggie asked, “When are you wanting to make this attempt?”
“I need a few days to study the Codex Arcana and recover my strength. Just getting out of bed and eating proper food has made me feel better.”
“All right, then. We have a lot to do, and the Scions aren’t going to give us any more time than they have to,” Allister declared as he stood.
The others stood as well and filed out of the dining room to attend to their various duties. Azerick started to follow Raijaun to the lab until Miranda gently took him by the elbow.
“How are you feeling, you know, inside,” she asked.
Azerick smiled reassuringly and hugged her tightly. “Much better. I cannot promise I will be any less distracted, but my soul is more at ease. Hopefully, it will make everyone a little more comfortable. I’m sorry I cannot spend more time with you right now, but I need to talk with Raijaun about the barrier and creating the Source pool.”
“I understand. It’s going to happen soon, isn’t it?”
“I think so. What will you be doing today?”
“I’ve been training with the martial students.”
Azerick leaned away and arched his eyebrows. “Since when?”
“For more than a month. Maybe if you crawled out of your lab more than once a season you would have noticed,” she teased.
“You’re right, and I am sorry.”
“It’s mostly been one on one training with Alex, but recently I have been in the field with them so I can learn more of their troop formations and tactics. It’s not as though anyone is going to let me stand on the frontlines.”
“We absolutely would not. When this is over, the people are going to need good, strong leaders. You must be there to fill that role.”
“I know, but from what you have described, it is unlikely anyone will walk away with a clean blade, and I need to be as capable a fighter as anyone. Besides, it helps me take my mind away from Daebian.” Azerick made a sour face and grunted in reply. “Azerick, please try not to hate him,” Miranda begged.
“I do not understand him enough to hate him or even be angry with him. I think I understand the Scions better than I do him.”
“He’s angry and jealous. So much happened so fast, I think it was just hard for him to adjust.”
“No, acting out in jealously or anger is capricious, and Daebian does nothing without knowing exactly what he is doing and why. I have a feeling Klaraxis has been influencing him for some time, but how much of his actions were due to the demon and how much was his own devious mind is anyone’s guess. I just hope that whatever he has found to do with himself keeps him entertained.”
“I just hope he’s safe. Well, you have your things to do, and I have mine. See you tonight?”
“I will try.”
Miranda tried to put on a brave face despite the pain she felt from the rift still separating her from her husband. She understood what was at stake, and she accepted the fact the world needed her husband as much as she did, but such logic did little to ease her torment. Miranda kissed Azerick and sought out the drill grounds. Some vigorous swordplay would take her mind off her marriage and leave her too exhausted to dwell much on it later.
Azerick felt the divide between them and knew it would only grow wider despite the excision of his demonic passenger. There was just too much to do and too many things requiring his personal attention. He had lost valuable days of work recovering from the wound Daebian had inflicted. Azerick pushed his mortal concerns to the back of his mind as he descended the stairs to his laboratory, the only place he felt at home.
“Tell me of the barrier’s condition,” Azerick said as he entered the lab.
“It does not look good. There are numerous fractures and flaws throughout the expanse. It is all I can do to repair the most severe amongst them.”
“How long before they are able to create a major breach do you think?”
Raijaun sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. They could create one now for all I know. Given what I deduced from the remnants of their previous breaches, it would not surprise me if they could cause irreparable damage. I have no idea what they are waiting for.”
Azerick looked pensive. “They are setting the board, placing their pieces before making their final gambit. Come; let us go see if we can buy any time.”
Azerick focused his will on the huge gem in the center of the chamber. The light faded and the walls shimmered until there was nothing but the blackness of the transdimensional void. The darkness quickly lightened, and the shimmering screen of the world-enveloping barrier wavered into view.
“False guardian, you have returned. You are different. You seem to have shed your demonic parasite, yet it was no doing of yours. Betrayal enshrouds you like a voluminous robe.”
Azerick ignored the Scions’ taunting and sent his consciousness throughout the vast expanse of the barrier. What he saw shocked him despite Raijaun’s warning. Huge sections of the barrier looked like continent-sized stained glass mosaics created by webs of
fracture lines the size of rivers. The sorcerer had no doubt that the fallen gods could tear a hole through one large enough to send tens of thousands of ravagers pouring into the kingdom if they so desired.
“What are you playing at?” Azerick demanded. “Why do you hesitate to unleash your horde upon us?”
“You are not yet prepared. We desire you to experience the full terror and futility of resistance.”
Azerick accepted the Scions’ answer as a partial truth. He held to his theory that the Scions were not going to leave anything to chance and were preparing the board to their advantage. Azerick and Raijaun toiled for an immeasurable amount of time, sealing fractures and walling off lesser breaches until exhaustion finally forced them to leave the Scions’ prison realm. Azerick was unsure of the hour when their consciousness finally returned to his laboratory, but he was certain it was late.
“Raijaun, why don’t you go get something to eat and rest.”
“Do you not need to rest as well, Father?”
“I do, but I cannot. I need to search the Codex for information on creating a Source pool. Lissandra did it, so it must be in there somewhere. Raijaun, I am going to need your help with it. Your full help,” Azerick emphasized.
Raijaun nodded grimly knowing the kind of pain he would endure by wielding all three forms of his magic in concert. “I will do what I must, Father.”
Azerick smiled and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I know. You always do.”
Raijaun left to get some much-needed rest and food while Azerick opened the Codex Arcana and spread its pages out before him. “I must create a Source pool. Show me.”
The pages fanned and words crawled across the sheets faster than the eye could read, but Azerick’s mind absorbed every word and deciphered their complex and convoluted meaning almost without conscious thought. The Codex held nearly all the answers to every conceivable question regarding magic, but it did not give up its truths easily for it did not think with a mortal mind. Its answers often appeared as riddles to the reader, and the more complex the question the more indecipherable the answer.
It took days for Azerick to compile a coherent method for creating the Source pool, days not eating or sleeping, his only breaks were the times he spent with Raijaun to make repairs to the barrier in a desperate hope of staving off the inevitable invasion by just another day. It was with heavy footsteps that he finally emerged from his studies and joined his friends and family at the dining table.
“I presume your emergence means you have met with some success,” Allister said in welcome as Azerick sat down.
“I have.”
“From what Raijaun has been telling us of the barrier, I understand your grim demeanor, but I suppose there is more bad news at hand.”
“A challenge to be certain. In order to create the Source pool, we need a lot of arcanum to act as a catalyst.”
“How much arcanum?” Aggie asked.
“A thousand pounds.”
“A thousand pounds!” Allister exclaimed. “There likely isn’t a thousand pounds in the entire world!”
Allister’s claim was not far from the truth. The amount of arcanum that went into the construction of Azerick’s staff likely represented a year of mining and refining, assuming the dwarves had found a rich source. Arcanum was not found in thick veins like gold or silver, but scattered specks as if sprinkled by the gods in tiny pinches spread across the whole of the world.
“I discovered a source capable of providing what I require.”
“Where in the world can you possibly find that much arcanum?” Rusty asked.
“The heart of our world is a molten mass of arcanum.”
“No one has ever traveled to the center of the world. It is not possible,” Allister insisted.
“A few have, but only Lissandra and her guardians ever returned. I have discovered the method they used to travel there and can duplicate it.”
“It cannot be as easy as you make it sound.”
“It is not. Something lives at the heart of our world and jealously guards its hoard.”
“What could possibly live down there?” Ellyssa asked.
“I do not know. Not even the Codex was able to share that information.”
Miranda wore a look of worry on her face. “It sounds dangerous.”
“There are elemental forces at work down there that I will have to counter. I expect that to be my biggest challenge.”
“Do you really?”
Azerick slunk a bit into himself. “No, not really.”
“Father, you should let me come with you.”
“No, I need you to stay here and guard the barrier. You will have a great deal to do when I get back. Then it will be my turn to babysit the Scions while you recover.”
“Azerick, are you sure this is a good idea?” Miranda asked beseechingly.
“No, I’m certain it is a terrible idea, but like all my terrible ideas, it is the only one I see.”
Miranda stood. “I can’t do this anymore,” she declared and fled the room, struggling to hold back her tears.
“Miranda…,” Azerick called after her.
Colleen stood and laid a hand on Azerick’s arm. “Stay here. I’ll go after her.” Colleen found Miranda sitting on the sofa, weeping into her hands.
Miranda looked up when Colleen sat next to her. “It’s never going to be okay, is it?”
“Azerick will be fine. He’ll do this and come back.”
“It doesn’t matter. There will always be something else. Even if we survive this invasion, we will never be the way we were. Nothing will.”
Colleen wanted to tell Miranda things would return to normal, that Azerick would settle down and be her husband again once it was all over, but her mouth refused to voice the lie.
***
Azerick held perfectly still as Raijaun carefully painted the silver runes he described onto his body. The arcanum dust tinting the paint was worth a king’s ransom, but it was crucial to allow him to withstand the elemental forces at play at the world’s core. The sigils Raijaun marked him with were largely draconic in origin, and each one had to be perfect and painstakingly drawn. It took hours to complete them all, probably far longer than Azerick would be gone if everything went right.
Azerick had wanted to go to Miranda, but there was nothing he could say or do. He had to do this, just as he had to do so much more. He could promise things would be better afterward, but neither of them believed it. Chances were, there wouldn’t even be an afterward. If he did not do everything he could, it was a certainty.
“I think that is the last of them, Father,” Raijaun announced and corked the small jar containing the last tiny bit of arcanum paint.
Azerick carefully examined himself in the full length mirror and declared Raijaun’s work perfect.
“Are you certain I cannot accompany you?” Raijaun asked, not for the first time.
“You cannot. I need you here.”
Azerick summoned his staff and walked as naked as the day he was born to the chamber he had prepared for the transport, careful not to mar any of the sigils on his body. Clothing would not last long in the hostile environment, and he saw no need in preparing any that could. It was much easier to protect his body which, thanks to Klaraxis’ natural resilience, made the task even simpler.
The sorcerer stepped carefully into the ring of sigils painted onto the floor with the same paint used on his skin. Azerick focused his mind and drew in the Source before feeding it into the runes decorating the floor as well as those on his body. Flesh and stone began to glow with a sliver, eldritch light, and the summoning chamber began to phase out of existence. His stomach leapt into his throat as he experienced the sensation of falling, made even more disconcerting in that it felt so much like his first trip to the abyss.
When the world came back into focus, Azerick found himself in an open plain of solid, rough stone. Rivers of molten magma erupted from the ground and snaked across the rocky landscape before burrowi
ng back into the rock and disappearing. Azerick could sense the titanic pressure and its desire to crush him like the insect he was, as well as the intense heat threatening to immolate him. His staff thrummed in his hand as it too resisted the colossal forces acting upon it.
Azerick sent his thoughts into his staff, urging the arcanum sphere at its top to seek out its own kind. The staff pulsed in response, guiding its wielder along a path between molten geysers and pools of liquid stone. Azerick walked through the twisting labyrinth of the underground world, often backtracking and finding an alternate route in order to bypass an obstacle he could not gate past. Rarely did the roof of the cavern dip low enough for him to see it. He continually inspected his protective sigils despite them being far more indelible than any simple paint.
His staff pulsed stronger, and Azerick soon spied a glow more silver than red. As he drew near, Azerick looked in wonder at the massive pool of liquid arcanum continually being fed by a geyser spewing the priceless metal more than fifty feet into the air. As he approached the arcanum lake, several globs began to form near the shore and rose out of its mirror-like surface. The globs took on a featureless but humanoid form. Some were only slightly larger than he was, but others towered ten feet over his head. One of the silver creatures, one nearer his human size and vaguely feminine in form, approached closer than the rest.
“You trespass and seek to steal what is not yours,” the creature said.
Azerick bowed slightly at the waist. “Forgive me. I was not aware this place and its materials belonged to another. My name is—.”
“We know what you are called, and we know what you desire.” The being pointed a finger at Azerick’s staff. “Like speaks to like.”
“You are made of arcanum?”
“We are arcanians. What you call arcanum is made of us. The bits you scavenge from the lifeless rock is the dust we leave behind when we ascend to our higher form and leave this shell of stone behind as we spread ourselves throughout the cosmos, seeding other worlds.”
“Then I would ask you a boon. I am in desperate need of arcanum.”
“We know what you need and why, and it is not our concern,” the arcanian answered bluntly.
The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 2