The Sorcerer's Torment (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  He started repairing lines and securing any items that had come loose during the storm. Azerick heard the captain shouting orders as he worked to help set the ship aright.

  “Balor, take a few men below and report back to me with an assessment of the damage,” Captain Zeb ordered before going to his cabin to consult his maps to try to determine where the storm had blown them. “Azerick, follow me if you please.”

  Azerick followed the Captain into his quarters. Zeb pulled a large map from a rack of deep pigeonholes, rolled it out on his table, and weighted down the corners to keep it flat.

  “Do you know where we are, Captain?” Azerick asked.

  “There’s no way to know precisely. I can only make an approximation by knowing what direction we were blown and estimating our rate of travel. It’s not that we’re lost. I can turn the ship due east and run into Valaria’s shoreline. I just don’t know how far north it blew us. If we see floating ice, then we went too far. Now tell me about that storm.”

  “There is not much I can tell you, sir. It was definitely formed by magic though. I could detect the emanations holding it together like wards used to trap doors and things. It would take someone far more powerful than me to conjure up and create a storm; especially one that size.”

  “If someone purposely made it, I have to wonder if it was meant for us, or did we just get caught in someone else’s trap?” Zeb asked rhetorically.

  “Ship off the starboard bow!” the lookout called from the crow’s nest.

  “That may be our answer right there, Captain,” Azerick answered.

  Both men went up on deck to find out what was happening now.

  “Is it our sister ship? What kind of sails is she flying?” the captain demanded.

  “It’s not flying any sails, but it’s moving towards us at a fast clip! I think it has oars, Captain!”

  “Oars? You can’t use oars alone this far out at sea!” Zeb exclaimed.

  “It’s definitely oars, Captain, and it’s moving fast—really fast!” the lookout called down.

  “Every man to the arms room! Boy, I hope you’re well rested, because whoever that is I’ll bet my right leg they’re the ones that set that storm on us.”

  Sailors ran and armed themselves, readied the heavy weapons, and took shelter behind the deck railing. The new ship flew neither sails nor flag to identify its origins, but at least fifty oars sprouted from the sides of it like the legs of a centipede. The deck sported no heavy weapons like their own ballista or catapult, but at least a dozen huge creatures crowded against the rails.

  They were massively muscled, humanoid in appearance in that they stood on two legs and had a pair of arms, but their heads looked like that of a bull. Huge horns topped the bovine head and fur covered their bodies. In their huge hands, they wielded massive battle-axes and swords that would take a normal man two hands to swing.

  “Minotaurs! Damn those creatures!” Zeb cursed.

  “Do you think they sent the storm?” Azerick asked.

  “Minotaurs despise magic, so I doubt it. They must be working with someone; as if they weren’t dangerous enough!”

  “Are they pirates then?”

  “Worse, they’re slavers. They’ll board our ship, take as many of us alive as they can, and use us or sell us as slaves. Look alive now, lad, because here they come.”

  Azerick heard the twanging and loud crack of the sailors aboard the Sea Star firing their crossbows and scorpios followed by the heavy whoosh and thwack of the catapult firing. The huge minotaurs aboard the oncoming ship simply ducked behind the rail of their ship and raised large, wood and iron shields over their heads. Stones and quarrels rained down with little effect. The brute strength of the massive, shaggy creatures was enough to ward off even the fist-sized stones flung from the catapult. Such an impact would have broken the arm of a normal man.

  The minotaur ship continued to bear down on the Sea Star with such a velocity that Azerick was sure they were going to ram them. Azerick let loose a stream of arcane missiles at the oncoming ship as it came near. One minotaur took all three bolts in the chest, but it appeared largely unfazed by the magical assault other than brandishing a sneer of contempt.

  Azerick sent a blast of lightning into several of the beasts crowding the bow of the enemy ship. The bolt hurled two of the huge creatures back while the one that had taken the three magical bolts let out a bellow and crumpled to the deck, his sharp-toothed sneer wiped permanently from his muzzle.

  The swift, oncoming ship suddenly reversed its oars in a rapid back-paddle, swinging its stern around to slam into the side of the Sea Star. The shaggy minotaurs threw grapnels over to lock the two ships together while men and beast met at the rails to do battle. The crew of the Sea Star outnumbered the fighters so far on the deck of the minotaur ship, but those odds would quickly turn if the rowers swarmed up from below.

  Even at the current odds, the brute strength of the minotaurs was more than a match for the human sailors, and Azerick knew at once that it would be up to him to swing the battle in their favor again. He leapt onto the rail and straddled his legs across both ships, letting loose another blast of lightning along the length of the battling, bull-like creatures. His bolt caught half a dozen of the beasts in its path and started a fire near the stern of the minotaur ship.

  Azerick thought that if he could set the minotaur ship aflame, the men could chop at the ropes and separate the two vessels that were lashed together and give them a chance. He was readying a fire burst when he spotted a horrific figure suddenly stroll onto the deck of the minotaur ship. It was nearly seven feet tall but extremely thin. Its head was a grey bulbous mass that looked like a large brain with no skull beneath the clammy, grey skin to protect it. Its thin, lipless mouth was set between large mandibles that sprouted out of its cheeks.

  Azerick completed his spell and sent a jet of flame towards the abomination. The smell of burning hair filled his nose as the fur of a minotaur in the path of the blast was singed across its huge torso. The sickly, grey-skinned creature screeched out in either rage or pain. The repulsive monster focused its gaze on the sorcerer and Azerick felt a massive weight press in on his head as if someone were reaching into his skull and squeezing his brain. He blocked out the tremendous pain and focused on his next spell. He knew if he could not get a lightning bolt off on the monster, all would be lost.

  Concentrating through the pain, he brought his hand up before him, ready to loose the powerful bolt when a massive, invisible wave of force swept over him. The spell he was about to release dissipated in his mind as he lost his hold on the Source. He felt himself falling and saw the wood planks of the deck rushing up to meet him. As he thudded boneless onto the deck, he was able to remain conscious just long enough to see every sailor in his field of view collapse in a similar fashion. That hideous abomination had them all. What it would do with them now, he did not want to contemplate. His eyes closed and the blackness took him deep into the embrace of unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 2

  Azerick woke to the gentle rocking of the ship. In an instant, he was aware that someone had bound his hands behind his back and tied a gag in his mouth. As his eyes cleared, he also realized that he was no longer on the Sea Star. Through the throbbing haze and pain in his head, he could make out the trussed up forms of Captain Zeb, Balor, and several other men from his ship. He shook his head from side to side in an effort to clear the fogginess, and immediately regretted the action as a wave of pain and nausea washed over him. It was only with the greatest effort of will that he kept from vomiting, an extremely unpleasant, not to mention dangerous, action considering the gag in his mouth.

  He turned his head with far more care and scanned the deck of the ship. As he surmised, he was on the deck of the minotaur ship that had attacked them. He saw several of the beasts wrapping up the one that Azerick had killed in the battle. Once they securely enfolded the beast in sailcloth, three of his comrades stood to each side and carried their dead burden
to the rail. The six bearers then heaved the body over the rail and into the sea.

  Having executed their duty, the funeral contingent walked towards the prone sorcerer. For a moment Azerick was sure he was going to receive a brutal beating in retribution for killing their comrade, but the creatures simply walked past without so much as a look down at him. He wondered where the hideous creature was that had so easily immobilized him and the entire crew. The silent appearance of the vile monster answered his unspoken question a moment later.

  The creature had grey, slick, sickly-looking flesh with a huge bulbous head that looked like a giant tick atop a pair of scrawny shoulders. Large, yellowed mandibles protruded from its lipless mouth. It looked at the immobilized humans as a spider would a fly caught in its web. Azerick had no idea how apt an analogy that was.

  The long, gossamer-robed creature glided up to one of the humans. Without a single word being uttered, at least not one that Azerick’s ears could detect, one of the hulking minotaurs lifted a sailor up to a standing position and held him firmly before the monstrous creature.

  The creature lowered his head towards the rigid form of the sailor almost like a lover soliciting a kiss. With a sickening suddenness, the mandibles of the hideous monster clamped down and pierced the doomed sailor’s head at the temples. A stomach-turning sucking sound filled Azerick’s ears as the horrible thing made large gulping motions, sucking in the man’s brain.

  After several minutes, the mandibles were withdrawn and Azerick could see that they had holes at the inside curve much like a viper’s fangs, but instead of injecting poison, these were used to suck out the brain of the victim. Azerick was near to vomiting as the minotaur carried the dead sailor to the rail of the ship and casually tossed his lifeless body overboard as if it were no more than common rubbish.

  He could only stare dumbly at the creature he would forever refer to as a brain sucker. Captain Zeb was not so easily shocked into silence.

  “You sick bastard! Let me loose and I’ll cut that ugly glob of fish guts you call a head right off your skinny shoulders!” the Captain screamed, threatening the creature that just murdered his helpless crewman.

  Azerick thought that one of the minotaurs would thrash the furious captain for hurling such insults at the apparent leader of this ship and crew. However, his ignorance of the situation was made apparent once again as the brain sucker simply turned towards the cursing human. Captain Zeb let out a piercing shriek of agony for several long seconds before falling silent, twitching slightly with a thin rivulet of blood running from his nose and ears.

  Azerick was shocked into motion at the sight of his captain being laid low and rolled over until he brought himself up next to Zed’s the quivering form. Now one of the minotaurs moved and landed several solid blows from its large feet; bruising ribs and forcing Azerick away from the injured captain. Injured, not dead Azerick had time to see before he was batted away.

  Fortunately, the brain sucker seemed to have satiated whatever hunger it had, or perhaps it simply wanted to put on a demonstration, because it did not return to the deck for several hours. The prisoners were not offered any food or water in that time, which was probably a good thing considering it did not appear that they would be untied to relieve themselves anyhow.

  For hours the hulking minotaurs rowed, propelling the boat at an impressive speed; a speed that Azerick had to assume was magically assisted. Even given the obvious strength of the shaggy creatures, he did not think they could move a boat this fast without the help of some other unseen force. Were his head not still spinning he could probably sense if there was magic in use.

  The deck rail was not a solid wall like the ones on the ships he was accustomed to seeing in Southport. It was more like the handrail of a flight of stairs or banister in which wooden columns spaced about a foot apart so supported a solid rail. Azerick was able to see the ocean ahead and a few points off to one side. He saw what first appeared to be several grey specks in the distance. Those quickly resolved themselves into a natural stone formation thrusting up out of the sea at least thirty feet above the rolling swells. The ship adjusted course slightly in order to pass between two of the granite pillars that could not have left more than a few feet of space to each side of the ship to pass through.

  Azerick briefly wondered why they were maneuvering between the columns of stone instead of simply going around them. The brain sucker returned to the deck of the ship and glided up to the forward deck as they neared the structure. The grotesque creature lifted its hands over its bulbous head and Azerick felt a sudden wave of magical energy wash over him as the air between the pillars erupted into a shimmering screen of glimmering light.

  Azerick saw the runes carved deep into the stone pillars just as the ship passed through the soap bubble-like screen and once again felt his stomach become queasy as the world twisted and distorted around him. For several seconds, he felt as if the world had dropped out from under him and he was falling in uncontrolled flight, his body plummeting into an eternal void.

  Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus, but when he opened his eyes, it was not a world he had ever before seen or even imagined. The sky around him was gloomy like on overcast day early in the morning just before the sun has peaked over the rim of the world. He looked beyond the rail and tried to make sense of the environment around him. All he could see was a dark grey, but whether it was the grey of clouds or distant stone, he could not tell. The scene felt gloomy, lifeless, and colorless.

  Ahead of the ship, he could see land of the same cold grayness growing closer as the ship rowed on towards an equally colorless city of tall towers and strangely shaped buildings. Minotaurs, brain suckers, humans, a few dwarves, and beings he had never seen before wandered the streets and worked the docks.

  Several minotaurs threw ropes out to the awaiting beings as the ship pulled up parallel to a large dock and secured the mooring lines. Minions extended a gangplank and the brain sucker lightly strode across, stepped onto the dock, and was greeted by another of its kin. They seemed to confer even though Azerick did not hear a single word and could not see either of the creatures’ mouths moving.

  More workers rolled several carts with large cages on them out onto the dock. Minotaurs carried Azerick and the other sailors across the gangplank and carelessly tossed them inside the cages. Azerick was glad to find he was sharing a cage with Captain Zeb and that his friend was conscious once again. Although he still looked pale and a little bewildered.

  “You all right, son?” Zeb asked in a slightly slurred voice.

  Azerick nodded, unable to speak due to the gag that was still in his mouth. The wagons lurched forward, pulled by humans wearing tattered clothes and blank, lifeless faces.

  “Here, let me see if I can get that gag out of your gob,” Zeb offered and used his teeth to pull the tightly wound strip of rough cloth off Azerick’s mouth and down around his neck. Azerick spit out the filthy wad of cloth someone had stuffed into his mouth then tried to work up some saliva to moisten his arid mouth and throat before trying to speak.

  “Thanks,” he was finally able to gasp out. “Are you all right?”

  “My head feels like it was used as a catapult stone and my stomach sent along for the ride, but I’ll live; for awhile at least,” the Captain replied darkly, looking around at his surroundings. “Think you can cast any spells to get us out of here?”

  “Not with my hands tied. I can’t form the weave that makes up the spell,” the young sorcerer regretfully explained.

  “I’ll take it that means no since I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zeb replied with a small grin.

  Azerick was heartened to see that the Captain was able to make at least a small joke and knew Zeb would be all right so long as no one decided to change their condition. A shudder coursed through Azerick’s body as the image of the desiccated sailor passed through his mind.

  The carts rolled down the cobbled streets pulled by the human slaves and guided
by the brain sucker from the ship. The workers, likely slaves from their appearance and bearing, pulled the captives through streets that thronged with the glazed, lifeless-eyed denizens of this strange place. The prisoners were rolled into a large, squat building. Barred cells holding prisoners of various races lined the walls of the interior. The ship’s crew was unloaded and herded into the vacant cages.

  They placed Azerick in a lone cell, separated from the rest of the crew with empty cells to each side, likely to prevent anyone from freeing his hands. A minotaur gestured for the sailors to turn around and put their hands between the bars. When the humans complied, the creature cut their bonds, freeing their hands. No one afforded the spell caster such freedom. His hands remained tightly secured behind his back.

  “What do you think they are going to do with us?” Balor asked, nervously massaging his wrists.

  “I don’t know. But I am sure that whatever it is, it does not bode well for us,” Zeb answered despondently. “It’s my guess we’ll be sold into slavery from the looks of it. It looks like this whole city is run by slaves.”

  “Why don’t the slaves revolt? There must be a hundred times more of them than those ugly monsters from what I saw,” one of the sailors asked.

  “They obviously have some way of controlling them. There are spells that can control a person’s mind or compel their actions. It is possible that they employ some such method, although I know of none that would work on such a scale as this,” Azerick supplied. “Even if that’s not the case, look how easily one of these things overwhelmed out entire crew. The body count of an open revolt would be horrendous.”

  Several human slaves walked in bearing trays with bowls of some sort of grey gruel. They passed them through the narrow bars to the prisoners, but they did not supply any utensils so the sailors were forced to eat with their hands. Azerick could not even manage that small dignity with his hands secured. He was forced to kneel down and lap up the bland, odorless, tasteless porridge like a dog. He decided to suffer this ignominy to maintain his strength. So long as he drew breath, he had a chance to escape his captors and free his friends.