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

by Brock Deskins

  “To be honest with you, Toron, there is a striking resemblance from the neck up. A most powerful and impressive bull to be sure, but the similarity is quite uncanny.” Azerick informed him with a grin. “Please, Toron, these are isolated people who know very little outside their own valley. I doubt that many of them have ever even heard of your people and meant no offense.”

  Toron looked at the terrified man he held then smiled widely, revealing his sharp, prominent teeth and laughed loudly.

  “Forgive my abruptness and prickly nature. I have shown myself to be a poor guest,” Toron said as he set the man gently back onto his feet and released his grip on the terrified man’s throat.

  “Think nothing of it, sir. I should have known better,” the man squeaked, rubbing his neck and taking a seat before his quivering knees buckled.

  Toron clapped the man on the back amidst the strained laughter of the onlookers. Azerick took a seat in a shadowed corner of the common room and hoped he would be able to pass the rest of the night in peace.

  The drinks kept flowing and laughter and revelry grew louder as the night progressed. He spotted the mayor several times making rounds through the common room, stopping to visit each table. Mayor Remkin spotted the quiet young man in the corner, but the look on Azerick’s face convinced him that he was in no mood for conversation or joining the festivities.

  “What is your game, Mayor? What is it you want from us, and when are you going to tell us what it is?” Azerick wondered aloud.

  Azerick soon tired of sulking in his dark corner and decided to go to his room and read a bit of the ancient tome he had escaped with before going to sleep. He glanced over once at Toron’s table before ascending the stairs to reassure himself that the big minotaur was not apt to cause any more trouble.

  Toron was currently arm wrestling a big farmer who must have been the one that donated the clothes that came close to fitting him. The minotaur put the farmer down easily. Azerick felt it safe to leave him alone as Toron squared off against two men at once and was seconds away from pressing both opponents’ hands to the tabletop.

  Zeb and the rest of the men that Azerick currently shared accommodations with staggered into the room with the usual amount of excessive noise that intoxicated men usually do at various hours of the early morning. He woke the final time to the loud snores and smell of alcohol fumes that they expelled just as the sun rose. He got dressed and quietly descended the stairs even though he could have ridden a horse down them without waking the occupants.

  The first thing he noticed was that a large number of his men had not made it back to their rooms and lay scattered about the common room with an equal number of locals sleeping off the effects of their revelry in chairs, sprawled across the table, or lying under it. The second thing he noticed was the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. Azerick decided to poke his head through the swinging door and saw the middle-aged woman named Sarah busily preparing the morning meals. She turned and spotted him looking through the door at her.

  “Good morning to you. I’m surprised to see anyone up this early,” Sarah greeted him warmly.

  “Sorry, I did not mean to distract you from your duties. I am sure I will be about the only one up for quite some time,” Azerick replied.

  “It’s no bother. Would you like a bite of something to eat? I just pulled out some small loaves stuffed with cheese and sausage from the oven. It’s my personal specialty. You won’t find them anywhere else,” she said with pride.

  “If it is no trouble it sounds like just the thing to accompany me. I thought I would walk about the town and enjoy the quiet, cool morning air.”

  “Here, take two then in case you work up an appetite while you’re out,” Sarah smiled as she wrapped the small loaves in a clean linen towel.

  Azerick thanked her for her kindness and stepped out of the inn into the brisk early morning air. Fall was well upon the quiet valley. It would not be long until snow blanketed the entire vale and covered the mountains. He strode about the town, almost eerie in its stillness. The usual smells of city living were still evident but subdued. The odor of the tannery, horse stables, and emptied chamber pots would always carry on the air, but this early in the morning, it was more than tolerable.

  It did not take Azerick long to walk from one end of the town to other and decided that he would walk along the river for a while. He noticed that the gates were closed and was disappointed at the thought that he may not be able to get out until they were opened. A few guards walked the walls and one stood next to the large, closed portal.

  “Good morn to ya! Out and about early I see,” the guard next to the gate hailed as he approached.

  “Good morning to you too. I was hoping to take a walk along the river before the sun rose overmuch,” Azerick replied as he drew next to the guard. “I see the gates are closed. Does that mean folks are not allowed to leave the town yet?”

  The guard gave a small laugh and shook his head. “Not at all, we keep the main gates closed for security is all.”

  “Do you see so much trouble out here to need such security?”

  The guard seemed to shuffle his feet and glance down at the ground. “No, not so much. We used to have an occasional raid by orcs or sneak thief goblins, but it has been quite some time since the last trouble arose.”

  He stepped over to a small postern gate that Azerick had not noticed until now, lifted a heavy crossbeam out of its socket, and then opened it for him. “You’re more than free to come and go as you please.”

  “Ah, good, thank you,” Azerick said and stepped through the open door wondering about the guard’s discomfort at his question.

  A low fog rolled over the ground as the rising sun slowly burned off the morning dew. He walked towards the river then followed along its bank, tossing rocks into the water, and letting his thoughts drift to nothing in particular. The sound of a rock turning under foot close behind him snapped him out of his reverie.

  He spun around, tracing a sigil in the air as he pulled power from the Source, ready to unleash arcane energies against any threat. A young woman let out a squeal of surprise when Azerick spun on her with dark intent evident in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry! I did not mean to startle you!” Anna said quickly.

  “Then you should not sneak up on people,” Azerick replied crossly as he let the energy he gathered drain back into the ether.

  “I’m sorry. I was looking for plants and herbs along the ground. When I looked up you were right there. You looked distracted, and I thought I may startle you more if I suddenly called out,” she explained nervously.

  Azerick grunted in reply and skipped another stone across the river’s dark surface. Anna warily stepped closer and stood a few feet to Azerick’s side. She was comely, perhaps a year or two younger than he was. She had soft brown hair plated in a typical rural fashion. She wore a simple, homespun linen dress with a light jacket and shawl to ward off the chill morning air. A canvas satchel was slung over her shoulder from which the green tops of various plants stuck out of the opening.

  “You are the herbalist that the mayor mentioned, are you not? You fit his description; especially in the eyes.”

  “And what exactly did the good mayor say about my eyes that makes me so apparent?” Azerick asked sourly.

  “That they are distant, unfriendly, and seem to look right through you,” Anna lifted her chin and boldly stated.

  “I guess the mayor has me figured out pretty well then,” Azerick responded, skipping another rock across the water.

  “I do not think he does at all. I see a great deal of hurt in your eyes, and that your unfriendliness is deliberate to armor yourself against further pain.”

  Azerick turned and faced her once more. “What do you know of hurt and pain, living here in your nice, quiet, safe valley? Neither you nor your precious mayor know anything about me, or what I hide behind my eyes—or fail to obviously,” he retorted, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his own voi
ce.

  “I see you are in no mood for company. Forgive me for intruding. I shan’t bother you any longer,” Anna told him coldly and stalked off.

  With a grunt of anger and embarrassment, Azerick flung the stone he had in his hand out across the water as hard as he could. He needed an outlet, a way to let go of the anger, rage, and pain that was boiling up within him. He almost wished that he were back in the arena so he could unleash it all through his magic, hoping that each lightning bolt or destructive spell would take away part of the fury and anguish that seemed to infuse every part of his body.

  He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep breaths and letting himself sink into a trance-like state. Once he felt reasonably calm, he continued his walk along the river trying to burn off some of the excess energy that ran through him. The sun was approaching late morning, so he decided it was time to head back to the inn and see if Zeb and the others were up yet. The main gates were open now and traffic milled about the streets. He spotted Zeb sitting at a table with the mayor as soon as he walked in. Zeb and the mayor both waved him over as soon as he entered.

  “Azerick my boy, I see you decided to wake early and go sightseeing. Tell me, what do you think of our fair town and countryside?” the mayor asked in his usual cheery voice.

  Azerick felt all the anger he had worked at suppressing come to a boil once more. He leaned onto the tabletop and glared at the fat man that smiled up at him.

  “Enough of your pleasantries, Remkin! What is your game, and what do you want from us?” Azerick demanded.

  The morning crowd of guests and locals suddenly went dead silent at the young man’s outburst. All eyes in the room turned towards the source of the confrontation.

  Zeb watched the Mayor’s face go from fear to indignation at the young man’s effrontery. “Azerick, what are you doing? This man is our host and has been most gracious in accommodating us.”

  “He’s hiding something, and I damn well want to know what it is. People are not this selfless. Well, Mayor, what is it? Why are you trying to keep us here?”

  Mayor Remkin sighed and cut off Zeb’s continued apologies for Azerick’s rudeness. “The young man is right. I do want something from you. I was trying to delay your departure and hoped to convince you to stay a while longer.”

  “Why? Why would you go to so much effort to burden yourselves with a bunch of homeless refugees? Most towns would be pushing us out as quickly as possible,” Zeb asked.

  “It has become apparent that winter is going to come early this year, and it will be especially harsh. We do not have enough hands to bring in our summer crops before the first frost comes. I was hoping that I could convince your people to stay long enough to help us bring in the harvest before the frosts destroyed them in exchange for putting you all up in the interim. Several of the farmers have agreed to make room for you all to stay with them through the winter if you would agree to help.”

  The mayor’s answer confused Azerick. “Why did you not just come out and ask us? Why the charade to try and keep us here?”

  “It was not a charade, although I certainly laid it on a bit thick I suppose. We really are a good town, full of nice people, and good intentions. It is just that with your story about escaping your captivity, I thought you would be too eager to return to your homes and would decline my request for help. If I could have convinced you to stay here for another week, snows would likely have closed the pass out of the valley and you would have had no choice but to stay,” the mayor stated, looking abashed at his own duplicity. “I know it was wrong of me to attempt such a thing, but as the mayor it is my responsibility to ensure the continued success of my town. The harvest is very important to all of us, and it caused me to act with poor judgment. Please forgive me,” he asked contritely.

  “Are you saying we are stuck here, that we cannot get through the pass?” Azerick asked a bit more calmly.

  “I give you better than an even chance if you left within the next day or two. Another week at most and the upper pass will be blocked by snow. Even if it was not, the threat of avalanche is too great to risk. If it is not too presumptuous of me, I still have to ask if you would consider staying on and helping us.”

  Azerick allowed himself to relax and sat down at the table. “That’s it? That is what you were hiding from us? All you wanted was some manual labor in exchange for providing for us through the winter?”

  Mayor Remkin lifted his hands, palms up. “That is all. Would you do it, or at least talk it over with your men?” he pleaded.

  Azerick felt all his anger and suspicion drain from him. “Mayor Remkin, please forgive me. Any duplicity on your part pales in comparison to my rudeness and suspicion. I think a short stay in your town is exactly what we may need. I also have no desire to walk home in the dead of winter.”

  Zeb concurred and promised that he would talk it over with his people today. Mayor Remkin returned to his usual jolly self at Azerick and Zeb’s promise to discuss his proposal with the others. By the time lunch came around, Zeb had spoken to nearly everyone that had fled through the portal with him.

  When the mayor returned to the inn, Zeb was able to give him the answer he wanted. Although several people had families they eagerly wished to return to, they realized that the dangerous and harsh journey ahead made waiting after the cold season a wiser decision.

  Everyone supported the plan with varying levels of enthusiasm. That day, most of the men and women left to stay at the homes of outlying farms. A few lived in town to work at the silos and receive the crops that the farmers brought in.

  Azerick elected to stay at the inn and was introduced to the town’s healer, Margaret Thistledown. Margaret was an ancient woman, but she was still fiery and full of life. It appeared that even death respected her wishes and left her to decide on her own when her time was up.

  “Anna is out collecting roots and plants with medicinal properties. I know I have waited too long to take on an apprentice to take over for when I’m gone,” she admitted. “Now my eyes are bad and my hands are too stiffened with arthritis. I need someone with a good knowledge of herb lore to show Anna firsthand the kinds of plants and roots she needs to collect.”

  “I suppose I could do that. I doubt I have nearly the experience that you have accumulated, but I can take her out and find the plants you need,” Azerick assured the old woman.

  “I would have taken on an apprentice long before, but every girl that came to me was a bubble-headed little twit without the sense of a mentally deficient turkey,” she added grouchily.

  The wizened herbalist began quizzing Azerick extensively on his knowledge of plants, herbs, roots, and healing. After more than two hours of interrogation, she concluded that the young man was fit to assist her in educating her apprentice.

  Azerick was impressed with the old woman’s knowledge and was certain that she contained a great deal more within that wrinkled, thinly grey-haired head of hers. Anna walked in just as Margaret finished grilling the young sorcerer.

  “Anna, this is the young man that the mayor sent to assist me in your education,” Margaret said as her apprentice walked into the room.

  “Yes, we met briefly the other day,” Anna replied formally.

  “Please make us some tea before you hang your plants to dry,” the old healer told Anna and then turned back to Azerick as she left the room. “She did not sound pleased to meet you.”

  “I am afraid I was a bit abrupt with her yesterday.”

  Margaret let out a rough cackle. “Don’t let that bother you overmuch. The girl’s gotten a thick skin since she came to work for me. She’ll be fine.”

  Azerick noticed several books upon a shelf, pulled one out at random, and began flipping through the pages. It was a handwritten journal detailing the properties and uses of various plants and roots accompanied by detailed color drawings. He replaced it and pulled out another. This one was entirely about mushrooms and fungus. Drawings, the uses or toxicity, along with each variety’s s
pore count accompanied every entry.

  “Did you write all of these?” Azerick asked as he pulled a third book from the shelf.

  “Oh yes, back before my vision went. I wrote those over the last fifty or sixty years.”

  “They are spectacular. The drawings and descriptions are some of the best I have ever seen. Anna is fortunate to have such material at her disposal.”

  Margaret waved off the compliment with a snort. “There are many things that a person must learn that simply cannot be put in books. Healing takes as much intuition as education, and you can’t get intuition from a book. That is why she needs someone to go out with her and give her firsthand knowledge of such things. If healing and herb lore could be done out of a cookbook then everyone could do it.”

  “I had a teacher who told me very much the same thing,” Azerick replied quietly.

  Anna returned with three cups of tea and a small crock of honey to sweeten it. The conversation was light and subdued. When they finished with their tea, Margaret told Anna to go hang her gatherings in the drying room and recommended that Azerick go help her.

  He followed the young woman through a door and was surprised to find that the room beyond was even larger than the main room where they sat and drank tea. There was a large fireplace with a warm fire burning. Azerick knew that it was more to dry out the air than to provide comfort.

  Plants, roots, herbs, and fungus of all sorts hung from wires strung across the room. Anna went about using clothespins to clip the plants she had gathered that morning to the lines to dry. It did not take long for Azerick to decipher the organization that she used. Like plants hung with like and organized by their uses and properties.

  “Anna, I would like to apologize for my rudeness the other day. I have not been myself for quite some time,” he explained.

  Anna’s face softened at his words. “It’s all right. I imagine you are under quite a lot of stress from your ordeals. Margaret is not one to work for if your feelings are easily hurt.”

  “So she told me,” Azerick replied with a grin.