Four searing rays shot into the sky, creating the luminous outline of a massive pyramid stabbing into the sky, and struck the weakened scar in the veil between worlds at a single point. Thousands of wallix took to the air with loud squawks and began circling the strange lights with uneasy, territorial aggression. The sky tore open like a sail in a storm. Azerick could feel the magic pouring in from the other side. He inhaled the ethereal power with his mind and body like a drowning man gasping in a lungful of air.
He leapt into the air and pushed himself skyward, shoving against the air with his wings. With a backward glance, he motioned to the tree trapping his foe. Abyssal magic happily answered his call, causing the wood to rot, crumble, and release its prisoner. The wallix swarmed after him the moment he breached the treetops. Azerick used his magic to coax more speed as the swarm behind him closed in, so massive it blotted out most the land below.
“Come on, you rabid vultures!” Azerick shouted as he raced for the pupil in the rift’s eye. “I’ve got a really big meal waiting for you if you’re so damned hungry.”
Azerick pushed through the rift, urging the ravenous, angry wallix to give chase. The alien world vanished as the sky swirled into the strange, twisting ether of the space between worlds. He emerged hundreds of feet above his tower and immediately spotted Ancalon’s colossal form curled around it, basking in the radiating energy of the Source pool. Azerick pulled in his wings and went into a steep dive. Rolling onto his back, he opened a massive portal directly behind him and in the path of the pursuing Wallix.
“Hey, Ancalon, I thought you might be bored, so I brought you some friends to play with!”
The Father of Dragons looked up just as the flock of wallix entered the portal. The gate’s exit point opened just over his head, and the swarm of ravenous creatures burst through like the snowflakes of a furious blizzard. Ancalon roared in outrage and indignity as thousands of beaks and talons dug under scales and sought out vulnerable areas to claw and bite. The creatures were little more than the irritating nuisance of bedbugs to the great dragon, but they stoked his rage and he lashed out. Fire rippled over his body like a wind-blown robe, incinerating the pests in their entirety.
The Father of Dragons searched the sky for his tormentor. “Sorcerer, I will take great pleasure in devouring you, body and soul!”
Azerick pulled in the power of the Source pool until he was certain taking in any more would consume him and leave not even dust to be carried away on the winds of this shadow world that looked so much like his home. He fed that energy into his staff until it thrummed with power demanding to be unleashed. He fell from the sky just as Ancalon looked up, shouted, and brought the arcanum ball down upon the dragon’s head with a mighty overhead chop.
Azerick’s comparatively diminutive size made the attack look almost comical, but there was nothing amusing about the power with which it struck. Ancalon’s world blacked out for a brief second, and his head swam as the blow shook him to his core and staggered him. A massive shockwave rolled through the air in a perfect ring, stripping and brutalizing every nearby tree that had managed to withstand their first battle. Azerick used his wings to arrest his fall, reeled back, and delivered a second, identical blow that drove the colossus to the ground. A cloud of dust billowed up around the dragon’s body substantial enough to make a small city vanish within its choking haze.
Azerick rode the dragon’s fall to the ground, stood on the back of his neck, and jabbed the now spear-tipped staff beneath Ancalon’s scales and into the base of his gigantic skull. Arcane energy crackled over the staff, waiting to deliver a jolt directly into the dragon’s brain.
“Enough!” Azerick shouted. “I am not your enemy, but I will be your executioner if you do not cease this childish tantrum immediately!”
Azerick felt Ancalon’s body tense beneath him before going limp with a hurricane-like sigh of surrender. “How pathetic a father am I that I have twice failed to protect my children?”
“I am not a threat to the dragons, Ancalon. The Scions use them, and I must protect my family and my people. It is the Scions who are the enemies of us both, so stop fighting me and help destroy them.”
“I cannot fight them,” Ancalon said morosely. “I tried the first time they invaded my realm and lost.”
“Why did they come here and leave you be if they were victorious?”
“Father of Dragons is far more literal than a mere title. My blood runs through the veins of every dragon in existence. Thousands of years ago, those creatures came and took some of my blood like leeches. Through it, they are able to bind my children to their will and use them to act as your overlords.”
“If you help me, we have a chance to break that link and free them,” Azerick urged.
“We cannot. Although I am the master of the spaces between worlds, I cannot go to any of them. You are obviously powerful, but you are not enough to be more than a nuisance to them.”
“I know that challenging gods sounds ridiculous, but we have done it before and triumphed.”
Ancalon snorted derisively. “Gods…”
“You do not believe them to be gods?”
“What is a god but a being with the power to control another?”
“Then help us. There is far more than just me to fight these creatures and their unholy minions. My son has the blood of dragons running through him. Does that not make him a child of yours as well, a child fighting your most hated enemy?”
“He is a Guardian?” Ancalon asked.
“He is, and he is brave and kind and wise beyond his years. He is fighting for what is right and is willing to die to save the peoples of our world. Will you be a coward and hide here, or will you fight for your children like a true father would no matter the cost?”
The Father of Dragons rumbled deep in his chest. “I am no coward. I would fight those false gods with the last drop of my blood, but I cannot leave this place, and they are not likely to willingly come here.”
“Then I will force them to come here with your help. I cannot easily open a gateway between worlds, but you can. Share your runic knowledge with me so I can lay a trap for them. Our gods’ presence in my world is limited by their nature and a higher power, but I suspect the same does not hold true here.”
Ancalon’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You are correct. Their power and presence would have no limitations here. I do not know if your gods’ strength is up to the task of posing a real challenge to the Scions. In your Great Revolution, it took them, the power of a dozen Guardians, and the host of the elven nation to bring them down. I felt the death of every Guardian and know there are no more with the exception of your son.”
“Fortunately, my son is exceptional,” Azerick responded. “There is also me and you. I do not know if we have the power to slay these creatures, but I know this is our best and only chance.”
“Very well, sorcerer. I can show you how to open a rift to this world with my help, but it will be up to you to force the Scions through it. Once through, we face another challenge in keeping them here. Their ability to cross dimensions is as great as mine.”
“Hopefully, their desire to kill me and our gods is great enough to make them stay. This will present them with the best opportunity to kill us all and be done with us. I have spent these past years positioning our pieces on this board as best I can, but I cannot guarantee the actions of the other players.”
“Indeed you cannot.” Ancalon drew a complex sigil in the ground with a single massive claw. The furrow created by the etching was deep enough to provide a proper grave and so large Azerick had to hover above it to get a proper view. “The Scions will not willingly leave their citadel until it is time for them to personally engage in battle with your gods. It is the seat of their power much like the Source pool within your tower. Place these markers in a position to surround their fortress and activate them when they are at their weakest. I will sense their power and add my own strength to it. Even so, the Scions will resist, and I
do not know if even our combined magic will be sufficient to bring them over without first having weakened them in some way.”
“How can we weaken them?”
“I do not know. It will be up to you to find a way.”
“Ancalon, I do not know what has happened since I have been gone. Do you know where my son is? Have the Scions started their invasion yet?”
The Father of Dragons closed his eyes and peered through the veils between worlds with his senses. “A number of my children gather near the cities you call Brelland and Brightridge. They are angry, and there is much magic being unleashed there.”
“Then we have already lost our coastal cities,” Azerick muttered to himself. “Can you send me to Brelland?”
“Easily.”
Ancalon pointed a talon at the sky and ripped open a hole in space. Azerick flew upward and dived into the swirling, multi-hued mists and auras. His heart raced with the fear of what tragedies might have befallen since he was away. Was Raijaun and Miranda all right? Were they able to evacuate the cities as planned? Did Sandy still hate him and abandoned them? He feared for Ellyssa, knowing she would put herself directly in the face of danger and never yield despite what wisdom might demand. He could not lose another family. Just the thought of it threatened to drive him into madness.
Azerick grabbed hold of his fury and clutched it to his heart like a mother cradling her babe. He reached behind him with his magic and pulled up a chunk of granite the size of North Haven’s castle. The miniature mountain streaked after him and followed its master into the rift like a well-heeled dog. Azerick and his mountain appeared several thousand feet over the city. Below, dozens of dragons wheeled about, spitting fire and hurling magic at the people within. Beyond the walls, ravagers covered the land like writhing, crimson snow, their bodies stacked against the walls in several places like deep drifts with the humans fighting furiously to shovel them away.
The rift spit his colossal boulder out like a cherry pit, and it began falling inexorably to the ground. Azerick fueled its descent with his magic, shattered it into hundreds of pieces, and enervated them with arcane power. The ravagers and at least half a dozen dragons found themselves pummeled by a meteor shower the likes of which had not been seen since the near world-shattering battles of the Great Revolution. Hundreds of fiery stones struck with enough force to shake the city and knock people from their feet. The meteors shattered the ravagers’ drive to the city and the ground upon which they stood.
***
“What new kind of hell is this?” Jarvin shouted as his war room shook, paintings fell from walls, and his recently uprighted battle figurines toppled atop the table once again.
The terrifying impacts continued, and all within were certain the entire castle would soon crumble around them. Candelabras and braziers toppled and men raced about on unsteady legs to ensure they did not set fire to the room. Raijaun lit the room with his magic and saw the pale, fearful looks of everyone in the room turned his direction.
“Raijaun, what is happening?” Jarvin asked urgently.
Raijaun raised a hand as if feeling for a draft. His concern vanished and a smile spread across his face. “Father has returned.”
“Thank the gods,” Jarvin murmured along with the others in the room.
After only a few minutes of tense silence, a bright, thin line split the air near where Raijaun had gated into the room earlier. The portal widened and Azerick stepped into the room wearing his more comfortable human guise. Jarvin’s hand unconsciously fell to the hilt of the sword resting at his hip.
“Father, it is good to see you well. We have been very worried since you did not return as expected. I suspect something went amiss?”
“You could certainly say that.”
“Let me guess,” General Brague interrupted, “you ran out of people to aggravate in this world so you found another to pick fights in.”
“Actually, it was two worlds.”
“Forgive me. Perhaps one day I will learn to stop underestimating you.”
“I pray we all live so long.”
“Azerick, I am heartened to see you back,” the King said.
“Are you?” Azerick turned back to his son. “How are Miranda and Ellyssa?”
“Miranda is seeing to the moving of refugees. Ellyssa has been battling at the gates but fairs well. Sandy has also returned and is providing a great deal of help distracting the dragons and pulling them away from the battle over the city.”
“I am relieved. I feared that I had driven her irrevocably away. Has she forgiven me?”
“She has come to understand why you did it and accepted its necessity. Father, there is an urgent matter we must attend to. We have lost two of the three gates. The ravagers managed to get beneath the city and struck where we least expected it despite having reinforced our guards there.”
“I must take much of the blame,” Jarvin said dejectedly. “Your son advised me to place a larger force to guard them, but I took some of them away and put them back on the walls. It seemed that was the more immediate threat at the time. If we die here, it is my fault.”
“Possibly, but I have no intention of us dying here. It goes against my plans, and that I cannot allow. Accompany me to the gates, Raijaun.”
Azerick opened another portal and stepped through. Raijaun immediately followed, and they both entered the plaza through a narrow alley. Masses of people packed the plaza beyond the alley trying to get through the single gate while soldiers and mages tried to keep them orderly. It was a battle they were quickly losing, and Azerick’s cataclysmic return had panicked them even further as they feared the Scions had finally appeared to destroy them once and for all. Ellyssa and Roger saw Azerick and Raijaun emerge from the narrow cleft between buildings and broke away from the crowd.
“Azerick, you made it back!” Ellyssa shouted and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, I tried to protect the gates but I failed.”
“You did not fail. You did your best, and I’m sure you are the reason we have any left at all.”
“Raijaun and Sandy are the ones who stopped them from coming into the city.”
“You all did your part, and I am proud you. Show me the ruined gates.”
It took some shouting, shoving, and even some magic to push through the mass of people, but most moved out of their way when they saw Raijaun towering over them.
“So, it was you making all that racket,” Roger noted as he shuffled beside them.
“It was. I do like a grand entrance.”
“Where did you go? What happened?”
Azerick stopped and looked at the shattered remains of the toppled pillar. “We don’t have time for that now.”
“Can you fix it?” Ellyssa asked. “The other one is even worse. An exploding goblin blew it up.”
“Goblin?”
“Whatever they’re called. They are dark blue and kind of look like Grick.”
“They can also ignore our wards and walk right through them,” Roger added.
“Is there any way to make another one?” Ellyssa asked.
“I can’t, but I know someone who may. Fortunately, I have not been idle while I was away and made a friend.”
“How big a fight was it before you became friends?”
Azerick grinned. “Pretty damn big.”
He reached into his pocket and retrieved the door handle made of arcanum. Jabbing the end of it between the stones of a nearby wall still standing despite the rest of the building lying in ruin, Azerick turned the handle and pulled. A section of the wall opened up as if it were a door on well-made hinges. The interior was dark except for the glowing silver pool in the middle of the chamber.
“What is that?” Raijaun asked, indicating the handle.
“It is a piece of the Source pool made solid. It allows me to return to the tower.”
“Could you not have used it to return home?”
“I had no connection to the pool from where I was so could not open
a doorway. It also only works one way, so do not let this door close behind me.”
Azerick walked into the chamber containing the Source pool and up the stairs to the living room. Exiting the outer doors of the foyer, he stepped back into Ancalon’s world and found himself staring into the dragon’s massive eyeball.
“You have returned.”
“I need your help.”
“So soon? I hope this is not a prelude to the level of give and take for our alliance.”
Azerick ignored the dragon’s barbed words. “I created a series of gates to allow my people to flee ahead of the Scions and their minions. Two of the three have been destroyed. With their loss, we cannot evacuate Brelland before they overrun us. Can you create a rift in my world to replace them?”
“I felt your gates when you activated them, though I did not know their true purpose. Primitive but effective devices. Yes, I can open the channel you require. Since I now know what they are, I can use your gates as markers to know where to create the entrance and exit points of an acceptable rift.”
“Thank you, Ancalon; we are all in your debt.”
“Only if you survive and we are triumphant. Remember our bargain. There must be no retaliation against my children when this is done.”
“I will do everything I can to ensure it.”
“Then there will be no debt between us.”
Azerick returned to his tower and the doorway that would return him to his world. Something impacted his face the moment he stepped through, leaving a stinging heat on his left cheek. He braced himself as Miranda began punching him in his chest and calmly waited until her fury subsided.
“I’m told you have returned only to catch your back as you vanish once again with no idea whether or not you are returning!” his wife railed and punched him again. “I thought you were dead! You cannot keep putting me through this. It’s not fair.”
Azerick held her close as she collapsed against his chest and wept. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to be so selfish, but I am back now, and I am not going anywhere.”
The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 31