The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Deskins, Brock

  The Headmaster kept her head down as she bustled through the gateway. She fought the wave of vertigo and nausea associated with gate travel as she stumbled through to the other side. She tried to imagine the chaos of tens of thousands of people using the gates with the threat of slaughter stampeding them through. Maureen shuddered as she thought of the death rapidly approaching the kingdom. A second tremble shook her body knowing she was planning the execution of the man seemingly doing his damnedest to save them.

  Brightridge showed every level of militancy as Southport did. Patrols roamed the streets in numbers nearly equal to civilians, and not a man or woman walked unarmed. Massive ballistae were mounted and manned on nearly every roof that could support them. Borrowing a tactic from North Haven’s ships, thick chains and ropes were strung between roofs to impeded dragons from landing and rampaging through the streets. Only the stoutest buildings could hope to stop one of the powerful creatures, but anything that could slow or hinder them was worth the effort. Wells, buckets, and huge cisterns of water sat at nearly every intersection, ready to be used to put out the inevitable flames. Like Southport, every building not occupied had been razed, its timbers carted off to limit combustibles or used in the construction of barriers or weaponry.

  The people traveled with the cautious and furtive movements of a city already under siege. When they moved, they stuck close to the buildings and watched others traversing the streets with looks of support as well as suspicion. Almost no one stood idle. Teams of men and women looked over fortifications and continually sought ways to improve them. Anyone not gainfully employed stayed indoors unless they had urgent business elsewhere.

  Headmaster Florent likewise stuck to the shadows cast by the buildings as she made her way toward the Temple of the Sun, avoiding eye contact with the few other pedestrians. She had only visited the great religious center twice before, but finding it was a simple affair despite Brightridge’s vastness. Only Castle Brightridge exceeded it in size within the city, and no structure or complex in all of Valeria came close to matching it in splendor. The polished gold dome of the central structure shined like a second sun setting in the heart of the city. On a clear day, it was impossible to gaze directly at it without fear of being struck blind by the brilliance.

  “Headmaster,” a voice called out, breaking her out of her rather singular focus.

  Maureen gasped and instinctively drew in the Source as a man stepped away from a darkened alcove. She started to chastise herself for her carelessness, but she quickly deduced that this man was far more adept at this sort of game than she was. He was not large, perhaps a couple inches shorter than she was, and sported a lean build. Although he wore the unadorned robes of a priest, Maureen knew his skills and duties did not involve preaching or tending to the less fortunate.

  “Forgive me for startling you, Headmaster. My name is Brother Sweet, Anthony Sweet. Bishop Howarth informed me of your impending arrival and requested I escort you to him.”

  The Headmaster stiffened her composure as if his unexpected presence had not bothered her in the least. “Proceed, Brother Sweet.”

  The priest took a position to her right nearest the street. Although he led, the man was never more than a half step ahead of the formidable wizard. Maureen doubted it was out of any distrust of her but of years of training never to put his back to anyone. The man moved with the graceful economy of a skilled fighter, but his lean stature suggested he was not a typical holy warrior.

  “Brother Sweet, how familiar are you with the nature of my meeting with Bishop Howarth?”

  “Intimately, Headmaster, but do not be concerned. Only the Bishop and I know of the existence of this meeting or its details. I have the Bishop’s full confidence, and I hope to have yours as well. Not even Jarvin, who approached the Bishop with his problem, is aware of my role.”

  “And that role is…?”

  “The subtle if brutal execution of the fell spawn Azerick Giles.”

  Brother Sweet’s calm assuredness in carrying out his task convinced the Headmaster he had done this sort of thing before, although she was certain never against such a powerful foe. Bishop Howarth must have had more success in discovering a way to kill the sorcerer than she had, hence his request for the meeting and Brother Sweet’s involvement.

  Maureen had little else to ask the man, and Brother Sweet volunteered no further information or conversation whatsoever. They soon came to the outer boundaries of the Temple of the Sun. The walls surrounding the entire mini city were thick bars of wrought iron twelve feet tall and supported by pillars of white marble every twenty feet. The entire complex was designed so that nothing could cast a substantial shadow anywhere on the grounds. The polished main dome and numerous smaller domed minarets reflected the sun onto the surrounding buildings in such a way as to destroy most forms of daytime darkness. To combat the summer heat, fountains dotted the courtyards, gardens, and larger gathering places inside and around the temple complex.

  Brother Sweet led his charge around the outside of the central temple and entered a small garden area near the southeast corner. He directed the Headmaster to follow him down a very narrow opening between two building wings. The passage made an abrupt right and ended at a solid iron door. It was the only place on the grounds she had seen where anything less than total daylight was allowed to exist.

  The priest produced a large cruciform key with the symbol of the sun stamped in its handle. The door opened with remarkable ease and silence despite its stout construction. Brother Sweet made a sweeping gesture to usher the wizard in ahead him. Headmaster Florent was not surprised when the man would not negotiate the narrow stairs leading beneath the heart of the temple with her at his back.

  She stepped past the unusual priest and descended the stairs. The air was noticeably cool and stale. Headmaster Florent spied the flickering light of a lamp or torch at the base of the stairs some twenty feet down. Given the angle of the construction, she could not see into the chamber below until she reached the bottom. Maureen found herself in the outer foyer of what was almost certainly a vast crypt. A stone table surrounded by oak chairs occupied the center of the room. Upon the table lay a folded cloth obviously concealing something beneath. The only figure in the room was Bishop Howarth.

  “Welcome, Headmaster Florent. I trust Brother Sweet has made a favorable impression?”

  “He seems very capable, Bishop. Congratulations on your appointment. I apologize for my late tidings. It has been a rather hectic time.”

  “It certainly has, and I appreciate you coming so quickly.”

  The Headmaster crossed to the large table and ran a finger through the dust accumulated on the back of one of the chairs. “You certainly chose an apt location for this meeting.”

  “I believe this is where Bishop Caalendor held many of his meetings during the usurpation. It seems to do well in holding onto the secrets discussed within.”

  “You believe he made his plans here?” Maureen asked, arching an eyebrow at the head priest.

  The Bishop smiled at her veiled accusation. “I was never a part of his schemes. The former Bishop knew me for a staunch moderate and never included me in his plans.”

  “I shall take your word on it,” Maureen replied. “Jarvin trusts you. If that trust is misplaced then let be on his head. I am hoping you called me here because you have had more luck finding a solution to our mutual dilemma than I have.”

  “Are you saying nothing in the great stores of artifacts horded by The Academy is capable of killing this creature Lord Giles has become?”

  “I am not saying that, but let us be clear. This is an assassination, not a battle to the death, which neither of us could be assured of winning. His death must be instantaneous. To try and fail to kill him is to court disaster. The Academy has the power to scour a city clean off the face of the world, but so does he. That sort of battle is the last thing we need or might be capable of winning after we fight these false gods.”

  “If you expec
t him act in such a cataclysmic way if he learns of our intent, perhaps we should reconsider this plan in its entirety. I like to think well enough of you that you find this sort of action undesirable.”

  “The only thing I am certain of is his total unpredictability. He might just shake his finger at us and paddle us like errant children, or he may send a mountain crashing down upon our Academy and temple. No, personal feelings aside, Azerick is too great a threat to the kingdom to be allowed to roam free. Gods, he murdered a notable lord in the King’s hall with no more feeling than squashing a fly.”

  Bishop Howarth nodded. “I understand Lord Atwater’s actions were treasonous and warranted execution.”

  “Not without at least a semblance of a trial. Even if Jarvin secretly applauded Azerick’s solution, publicly he cannot support such ruthless, dictatorial actions. So this is where we stand. Do you have what we need to accomplish it within that bundle on the table?”

  “I believe so.” The priest pulled back the cloth to reveal three swords lying beneath.

  “Swords?”

  “Not just any swords, the Swords of the Saints. Do you know of the elves’ disastrous attempt to leave this world and take their entire physical nation with them?”

  “Vaguely. They tore open some kind of rift and nearly destroyed themselves.”

  “The rift they opened allowed numerous demons to escape the abyss. This was before the creation of Solarian’s Light. The church had no holy warriors with which to battle undead or demonic scourges at the time, so we prayed to Solarian to aid us. His answer came in the form of four swords, blessed by him for the specific purpose of destroying demons.”

  “I only see three,” Maureen pointed out.

  “Brother Sweet carries one.”

  “Assassins within the church? You surprise me, Bishop.”

  “Sometimes in order to bring the light, one must strike from the shadows. I am sure you have a few people of such skills within the Hall of Inquisition?”

  Maureen nodded. “We do.”

  “You know Lord Giles better than I. Do you think this will be effective against him?”

  “From what I understand, he was originally possessed by a demon but later died. His soul then travelled to the body of the demon that possessed him, thus becoming the possessor. My sources tell me his son, Daebian, stabbed him with a very special sword that pulled the demon’s spirit from his body. So we have a human soul in a demonic body. Whether that is sufficient to make him especially vulnerable to these blades I cannot say. Such a thing is more within your expertise.”

  “Quite right. A demon’s soul is much like a bloodstain. Once it defiles your clothing, it will always leave a trace no matter how much you scrub. So there is an element of the demon’s essence still within Lord Giles who possesses its physical form despite what he likes to show the rest of us. I am certain the Swords of the Saints are capable of killing him swiftly. There exists but one other conundrum we must recognize.”

  “What is that?”

  “His son.”

  “Which one, the pirate or the monstrosity? It is a tossup as to which is the more dangerous.”

  “If Daebian tried to kill his father, I doubt he will pose much objection for anyone who might finish the job. What can you tell me of his other son? How might he react if we execute his father?”

  The Headmaster pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. What had been a distasteful but necessary action was quickly spilling over into talks of massacring a family line.

  “I know how horrible this sounds,” Bishop Howarth said softly, “but we must consider all the possible consequences of our actions.”

  “Raijaun is very powerful, possibly a match even for his father if he ever truly embraces his gift. But he is also kind and steady. He came to The Academy to help us create the gates. I am certain he overheard many unkind words regarding his existence, but he never showed any anger or aggression. He rather reminded me of his father when he first came to The Academy, only much more mature and less volatile. I cannot say how he will react. No one can be more fearsome than a peaceful man pushed to fight.”

  “But could we destroy him with the swords as well if it became necessary?”

  “He was created with the physical and spiritual essences of Azerick, so he too should be as vulnerable as his father. If we are considering killing him because of a potentiality, where do we draw the line? Do you think Lady Miranda, Duchess Mellina, or the people of North Haven will simply turn a blind eye to his execution? Azerick Giles is practically worshipped in that city.”

  “Insurrection is a problem for the King. Mine is dealing with unholy abominations threatening our world and way of life. First and foremost are these Scions and their horde. A very close second is Azerick Giles. If his son remains peaceful, I have no problem leaving him be. But if he decides to threaten our people like his father has done, then I will spend my last breath putting him down as well. Are you willing to stand and do the same?”

  The Headmaster ran her hand lightly over the hilt of one of the swords and stared blankly for several moments. “I am.”

  “I thought as much. I suggest you take the swords to His Majesty as quickly as you can. I suspect you shall keep a blade for one of your special officers?”

  “It is my intent.”

  “Good. Jarvin will then have the other two to dole out as he sees fit. This will allow us to strike from multiple angles. If one of our agents cannot reach him, our odds are greatly increased that someone else can. When would you like to depart?”

  Maureen rolled the swords into a bundle and tied them with a length of cord. “The sooner we set this in motion the better. My sources tell me we have very little time.”

  “What transpires in North Haven?”

  “The idiot created a Source pool then tried to shift it to another plane just as the elves attempted to do with their entire nation.”

  The holy man’s face paled. “Dear god of light, what happened?”

  “The fool apparently succeeded, only no one has seen him in two days.”

  “What about the barrier?”

  “I’m not sure, but it is bad. The son says he can no longer do anything to maintain it. Whatever is going to happen is going to unfold very soon.”

  “Weeks, months?”

  “I am betting more likely it is days. Did you know dragons have been spotted flying in the skies?”

  “I had heard some gossiping but have seen nothing myself.”

  “The ones we have seen appear to be mostly younger dragons and are staying away from the large cities. The garrison still in Argoth managed to bring one down a few days ago when it got too overzealous. I must assume it was not prepared to face the wizards left behind.”

  “Why do you think only the younger drakes are mucking about?”

  “I can only theorize, but my guess is whatever power the Scions have over them is not strong enough to dominate the elder dragons—yet.”

  Bishop Howarth looked hopeful. “Perhaps they never will.”

  “Unlikely. The Scions had complete dominion over the dragons during The Great Revolution. I imagine that will return when they are completely free of their prison.”

  “It sounds like you should probably hurry. Brother Sweet will see you back to the gate.”

  The Academy’s Headmaster clutched the bundle of swords beneath her robes and climbed the stairs with Brother Sweet trailing just behind her. The man was so unobtrusive that Maureen had forgotten he was even in the room until it was time for her to leave. The priest led her back toward the gates by a different route from which they came with the same quiet professionalism he had displayed throughout the entire meeting.

  “Brother Sweet, how many men have you killed during the course of your duties?”

  “Five, Headmaster.”

  “Five? Forgive me, but that does not seem like many given what I assume are your duties.”

  “One should not keep score to give testament to their abilities. It c
heapens the lives of those we must take. I was brought to the seminary when I was four years old. By the time I was seven, the Brothers recognized a natural affinity for many of the skills I now employ. I have been training for a moment like this nearly all my life. When the moment comes, you can almost be certain it will be I who thrusts the first blade.”

  “Just know this, Brother Sweet; Azerick Giles is not a man. He has not been one for many years. Underestimate him and you will likely doom us all.”

  “I would never commit such a sin, Headmaster.”

  “Good luck to you, Brother Sweet.”

  “May Solarian’s light shield you from the darkness.”

  The gate snapped to life and Headmaster Florent stepped through the threshold and back into Southport. Brightridge’s gates only allowed travel to Southport and the valley where Azerick planned to make their final stand. Fortunately, Maureen’s people had found the small gate the sorcerer had created to infiltrate The Academy Grounds and were able to duplicate it without his or his son’s assistance. She had hoped to make it back to her office unseen, but such was difficult if not impossible given the heightened state of activity.

  “Headmaster!” someone called out as she entered the hall leading to the stairs to her office and the private gate to Brelland.

  Maureen turned and dropped her hood since her disguise was obviously of no use here. “What is it, Luca?”

  “Headmaster, I have received several reports today of dragon sightings and multiple incursions by these so-called ravagers. I also have the latest expenditure and personnel reports.”

  “Tell me of the ravagers and dragons.”

  “The dragons have been feeding on the livestock but have yet to do more than make brief sorties against a few of our smaller towns. Fortunately, most of those citizens have relocated to one of the primary cities with the evacuation gates. The ravager attacks have been more brutal. Although their numbers are few, they have been creating terror in some of our less populated regions. Any town with the resources has sent out soldiers to put them down, but their speed makes it almost impossible to catch them.”