The Sorcerer’s Torment
Book two of the Sorcerer’s Path
By
Brock E. Deskins
Published by Brock E. Deskins
ISBN: 978-1-4659-5298-1
Cover Illustration Copyright © 2011
Copyright ©2011 Brock E. Deskins
Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
To my readers: Like a car without wheels, no matter how grand the vehicle, I can go nowhere without you.
The Sorcerer’s Saga
The Sorcerer’s Ascension
The Sorcerer’s Torment
The Sorcerer’s Legacy
The Sorcerer’s Vengeance
The Sorcerer’s Scourge
The Sorcerer’s Abyss (Coming Soon)
OTHER BOOKS BY BROCK E. DESKINS
Shrouds of Darkness
The Portal
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Deleted Scenes
From the Author
CHAPTER 1
Once again, it seemed that the fates conspired against the young sorcerer; taking his home, his friends, and anything that brought him happiness. Azerick already lost his father, home, and the future he had planned because of someone’s greed and thirst for power. He lost his mother, his friends, and his second family to evil men with nothing but avarice in their hearts. Just when he thought his life was back on the proper path at The Academy, he had to leave his home, education, and friends behind.
Had he meant to kill Travis? Azerick certainly felt he had reason and possibly justification, but in his heart, he knew it was an accident. He would not mourn Travis’s death. Azerick took every loss and every hurt inflicted upon him like a hot sword under the hammer of a blacksmith. Every ringing blow tempered him, made him stronger, harder, and more lethal to those that sought to harm him.
Azerick crossed the night-shrouded city and went straight to the docks where several ships stood moored. He had to make several inquiries before he finally found a ship that was leaving that night. Most outbound ships had set sail with the coming of the tide, but the Sea Star had been delayed when the large cargo hoist had to be repaired after snapping its boom. The crew was hastily loading the rest of the cargo so the ship could set sail the instant that the tides became favorable. Azerick approached one of the sailors assisting with the loading of the last few crates that needed stowing.
“Excuse me. Do you know where I can find the captain of this vessel?” Azerick inquired.
“He be checking the storing of the cargo below decks. Best you wait until he is done a’fore pesterin’ him, boy,” the sailor responded.
Azerick waited patiently, casting constant looks over his shoulder as he half-expected the watch to run him down, as the sailors hoisted the last cargo net full of crates over to the open hatch of the ship. Several minutes passed after the last load was stored in the ship’s belly before a man swung over on the returning boom clutching onto the limp cargo netting. As the arm swung over the dock, he released his grip and dropped lightly to the wood planking.
“One of my mates says you want to see the captain,” the man stated.
The ship’s captain looked to be in his mid fifties perhaps sporting a thick, but well-groomed beard going from blond to mostly grey. He wore oiled, knee-high leather boots with the tops rolled down below the knee. His face showed the harshness of years of abuse from the sun and saltwater, but he was surprisingly fit and agile.
“Yes, sir. My name is Azerick and I would like to request passage on your vessel.”
“This isn’t a passenger ship, boy. It’s a merchant ship—my merchant ship.”
“I’ve sailed before, Captain, and I will work as hard as any man on board,” Azerick promised.
“I’ve got a full crew and need no more hands and, more importantly, no more bellies needing filled for this trip.”
“Sir, it is very important that I leave tonight on your ship. You can put me on half rations. I brought a lot of my own food and can catch fish if I run out,” the young sorcerer said persistently.
“Sounds like you’re running to me, lad. You wanted by the watch, is that it?” the captain asked, a hard frown deeply creasing his face.
“No, sir,” Azerick answered honestly, despite his paranoia, since the watch probably was not looking for him yet. “I just have urgent business I must attend to.”
“And where might that urgent business be?”
“Where are you sailing?”
“North Haven, after a roundabout loop through the Black Sand Isles,” the captain answered.
“Perfect, that is where I have business.”
“I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, boy, but I don’t need it on my ship and I want no part of it,” the captain said with finality, turning to retire to his ship.
“Peg knows me well and will vouch for me, Captain!” Azerick called at the departing sailor’s back.
“You say you know old Peg do you?” the captain asked, turning back and eying the young man standing before him and trying to see if a lie hid behind the youth’s eyes.
“Yes, Captain, I do. He sailed with my father.”
“Wait here and I’ll go have a word with old Peg. If you are lying to me, boy, you had best not be here when I get back. I don’t much appreciate having my time wasted, particularly when I’m already behind schedule.”
Leaving his warning hanging in the air, the old sailor walked towards the row of shops and buildings that faced the docks and the open ocean. Azerick prayed that Peg would vouch for him. The old sea dog had already done him so many favors, and for nothing in return. It was a stretch claiming he knew Peg, but the man said he had sailed with his father. Nearly thirty minutes passed before Azerick spied the captain appearing out of the darkness.
“You might have saved me some time by telling me straight away who your father was, lad,” the captain grumbled. “Although, if my brain wasn’t so full of seawater I suppose I would have picked up on the name. Darius talked about you all the time. He was a good captain and a good friend. Grab your bag. I’ll show you where you can store yourself and your gear. The name’s Captain Zeb, by the way.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Azerick said as he shook the boat captain’s calloused hand.
“You will still work, make no mistake. I don’t allow no freeloaders, no matter who their father was.”
“Yes, sir! It will be my pleasure to work on your ship,” pledged Azerick.
“If you think it’ll be a pleasure then you haven’t spent much time on a boat; especially mine,” Zeb said with a grin that promised hard work in the days to come.
The captain gave Azerick a footlocker and showed him to a bunk in a tiny room under the forecastle. He was forced to live in the cramped space since all other bunks on the ship were accounted for, but he did not mind. The space ha
d no porthole for fresh air but he enjoyed the privacy. He could conjure a light that would allow him to study the few books he had brought with him.
As soon as he stored his gear, Azerick was ushered back onto the deck and instructed to help pull in and stow the mooring lines. Once the thick ropes were secured and the ship underway, Captain Zeb assigned a sailor to teach him everything he could.
He recalled how Peg had been teaching Bran about knot tying, which apparently was a vital skill for any sailor working aboard ship as it was the first thing a sailor named Balor showed him. Perhaps if the night’s events had not frayed his nerves so much he would have recognized the captain’s name as the same man that Bran had shipped with on his quest to rescue Andrea.
Azerick enjoyed the salty air and the wind in his face. Memories of sailing with his father flooded his mind and brought a rare smile to his face until he remembered that he would never again sail with his father.
*****
Rusty stood before the headmaster, the entire teaching cadre, the Chief Inspector, and Travis’s father.
“Now, Franklin, tell us everything you can about what happened last night if you would, please,” Headmaster Dondrian instructed.
Rusty took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. “I talked to Azerick earlier that day. He said that if anything should happen to him that he wanted me to have his alchemic set. It was an odd thing to say and it is a very expensive set, so I asked him if anything was wrong. He said that he had to leave to take care of some things and that he might be gone for a while.”
“Did he say where he was going or what he had to do?” Chief Inspector Lazlo asked.
“No, sir. I asked, but he said he didn’t want to get me involved, and then he changed the subject.”
“Tell us more of what happened last night in the clearing,” the headmaster directed the young student.
“I knew something was wrong, so I waited until he left and followed him out to the clearing. Azerick and Travis faced each other in mutual duel. Azerick’s spells were completely absorbed by some kind of shield that Travis had. He must have been wearing an enchanted item because no spell he knew could protect him that effectively.”
“I object to that statement, sir. This student could not know what kind of power Travis could weave into his casting. He is a Beaumonte. Unlike others, the blood in our family has run pure for generations,” Lord Beaumonte insisted.
Magus Allister’s gruff voice filled the room as he interrupted the nobleman. “No, Franklin could not, Lord Beaumonte, but as one of your son’s teacher’s I can assure you that a spell shield with that kind of power was far beyond the ability of all but the most experienced students here. Travis was only a mediocre wizard at best, despite the purity of his blood,” Magus Allister clarified.
Lord Beaumonte shouted as he jumped to his feet. “I will not stand by and have my son’s memory slandered, sir!”
“Truth is not slander, my lord. It is obvious, that given the testimonies of Franklin and your son’s friends that Travis did indeed use a scroll or item that granted an unfair advantage in accordance with the proper rules of dueling,” Magus Florent said in support of Magus Allister. “Go on, Franklin, what happened next?”
“Azerick must have realized that none of his lesser spells were able to touch him, and having been struck several times by Travis’s magic, he used a more powerful spell. He cast a lightning bolt and knocked Travis to the ground. He then turned to face those three over there,” he said pointing at Travis’s friends. “He knew they would shoot him in the back if he got the upper hand on Travis.”
Several shouts of protest erupted from the accused student wizards but the headmaster quickly hushed them.
“I was watching from the cover of the trees, and when I saw all three preparing spells I cast a flame jet and disrupted them.”
“He set our shirts on fire and burned me!” one of the boys protested.
“Be still, Ronald,” the headmaster ordered. “I will deal with you three in a moment.”
Rusty continued. “Azerick turned back to Travis who was back on his feet and pointing his wand at him. Azerick told him to put the wand away and admit defeat. Travis told him that he was going to kill him and then me. Again, Azerick warned him not to use his wand or he would be sorry. Travis did not listen and triggered his wand. When he did, it blew up, killed him, and did all the damage you saw in the clearing.”
“It sounds like Azerick knew that the wand was going to malfunction. Is that true, Franklin?” The headmaster asked.
“Yes, Headmaster. Azerick cast a spell on it one day after Travis and his friends beat him up in the halls, but he didn’t know it would react so violently. He told me he thought it would just break.”
“Do you know why Azerick met Travis in the clearing last night?”
“He told me that he had stopped Travis from raping a girl the night of the ball and Travis challenged him,” Rusty replied coldly as the room burst into shocked mutterings.
“Objection, Headmaster, that is hearsay! Three other witnesses have discounted that accusation and the girl refuses to speak of it!” Lord Beaumonte defended his dead son.
“Lord Beaumont is correct. Without another actual witness, anything Azerick allegedly said must be discounted until he appears to give his own testimony,” Chief Inspector Lazlo affirmed.
“Do you know where he went after the incident, Franklin?”
“No, Headmaster, he refused to tell me or even hint as to where he was going or what he was going to do.”
“Would you tell us if he had told you?”
“No, Headmaster, not even under the threat of torture,” Rusty swore, meaning every word of it.
“Well, let us just see about that, young man!” Lord Beaumonte snarled; his voice thick with malice.
Magus Allister rose from his chair once again, his anger evident on his wrinkled face. “Threaten one of my students again, Lord Beaumonte, and any relation or protection you may enjoy from the duke will not be sufficient to protect you!” Magus Allister promised with a rare show of true anger.
Travis’s father hastily backed away, pointing a quaking finger at the old wizard. “My son is murdered in your academy, and now one of your own instructors dares to threaten me! This is intolerable! I demand he be arrested at once!”
The chief inspector looked from the Duke’s cousin to the very formidable and supremely angry archmage and decided it would be best to handle the situation diplomatically.
“My Lord, I’m sure we are all terribly upset at everything that has happened. Tempers are of course running high, but I am certain the Magus does not truly wish to cause harm to anyone. Let us just calm ourselves as best we can and see that justice is served,” Lazlo said nervously, tying to smooth over the ruffled feathers of the powerful men in attendance. “Given all the testimony we have heard, I feel it is best to hand this case over to the magistrate for further review. We can do nothing right now until the accused is located anyhow.”
“There may be nothing you can do, but I assure you that my resources do not lack your magistrate’s limitations!” Lord Beaumonte shouted as he left the meeting, slamming the door behind him.
“What is going to happen now, sir?” Rusty asked.
“It is in the hands of the magistrate’s office now, Franklin. At this time, you are considered nothing more than a witness. Any punishment that would normally be incurred from casting offensive spells with intent to cause harm to another student or citizen will be dismissed given the mitigating circumstances,” Headmaster Dondrian assured him. “Let it be known however, that any aggression between you four young men will not be tolerated and will be grounds for immediate dismissal from the Academy. Is that understood?”
The young wizards all swore that it was and Rusty shuffled out of the headmaster’s office with his head down and returned to his room. Rusty was awash in emotional turmoil, fearing for his friend trying to process what had happened last night. He had never see
n anyone killed before nor magic used in a way that caused so much harm. He had never really taken his studies that seriously, but seeing the awesome, destructive force that it was, he vowed to change that. About an hour later, Magus Allister came and let himself in after knocking.
“How are you, Franklin?” the Magus asked.
“I don’t know. I’m scared and I’m worried about Azerick.”
“I’ll be honest with you; of all the young men I have ever met in my very long life, Azerick is the last person I would worry about. If anyone can come out of this on top, it will be him. Did he ever tell you of how I met our young friend?”
Rusty and the old wizard laughed themselves to tears as the Magus detailed the accounts of their first few encounters. Both young wizard and old were holding their stomachs, afraid they were about to burst open by the time Magus Allister decided to leave his student in peace.
“By the way, don’t you dare repeat what I said,” he said with a wink.
Rusty promised that his secret was safe with him and went back to thinking of his friend, but with a bit more hope for his success than he previously had.
*****
Azerick was now several days out to sea. His new friend, Balor, had refreshed his memory on everything his father had taught him about sailing and several things in addition. He was quickly gaining the acceptance of the crew and was busy checking sail lines and ensuring everything was secured to the deck when a call sounded from the crow’s nest.
“Sails, four points off the starboard bow!” shouted the warning from the observer.
Azerick scanned the horizon and finally made out the white sails against the blue sky.
“Unknown vessel on a definite intercept course! Make that two ships!” cried the lookout.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” the captain said as he came up behind his new crewmember.
The Sorcerer's Torment (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 1