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

by Brock Deskins

  “Further resistance is unnecessary and futile,” the bandit, most likely the leader of the group, told the captain. “Put up your weapons and go home. You cannot keep us from taking the Lady.”

  Azerick had to strain his ears and was barely able to make out that the bandit leader had referred to a Lady.

  So what if some fat nobleman’s even fatter wife is kidnapped? He would pay a ransom and most likely get her back. That is how these kinds of things worked, Azerick thought to himself.

  Besides, it was no business of his. He was a sorcerer, not a paladin charging in to save every fool not able to save themselves.

  “I will die before I allow her to fall into the hands of the likes of you!” the Captain shouted at the bandits.

  “What of you, soldier? Are you willing to die for some rich Lady? You’re hardly more than a boy yourself. Are you willing to die needlessly before experiencing all that life has to offer?”

  Even at this distance, and with the soldier wearing a pot helm, Azerick could see that the young guard did not have to shave more than about once every couple of weeks so much was he still in his youth.

  “I stand with my captain and my Lady,” the lad responded nervously as he clutched his sword tightly in both hands.

  “So be it,” the bandit leader said as a bolt immediately pierced the young soldier’s armor and he fell to the ground to join the rest of his comrades in death.

  It was at that moment that Horse must have gotten a whiff of the blood that now colored a large patch of the highway around the coach and nickered in dislike of the scent. All eyes turned as everyone suddenly took notice of the young man on his horse just a few dozen yards away that had so far gone unnoticed.

  “Hey, boss, what we do about him?” one of the bandits asked, pointing his shortsword in Azerick’s direction.

  Azerick’s shoulders slumped in resignation as he slipped off Horse and stretched his sore legs. “This business is none of my affair. Do not waste any effort on me.”

  The bandit leader looked at Azerick before making up his mind. “Kill him, we don’t need no witnesses.”

  The guard captain put his back to the coach and raised his shield in preparation of the renewed attack. Half of the bandits broke away from the lone guard captain and charged the travel-worn stranger. Azerick sighed in annoyance and slapped Horse on his broad rump in an effort to get him clear of the fighting.

  Azerick leaned on his staff and called out to the dozen men advancing on him with their weapons drawn. “This is not my business, gentlemen. Please do not make it so.”

  Half the bandits fired their crossbows in reply at the young man that calmly stared death in the face while the others charged with swords and spears.

  Azerick let out his breath and shook his head as the bolts stopped an arm’s length from his heart and dropped harmlessly to the ground.

  “Bad choice,” Azerick spoke into the wide-eyed faces of the closest bandits who saw the quarrels stopped in midair and clatter to the cobblestones.

  Azerick slammed the butt of his staff onto the road with a shout of power. Arcane energy burst out around him, caught several of the bandits in its powerful blast, and sent them flying backwards through the air. Those few bandits that were several paces back felt as though they had been kicked in the stomach. Some stumbled but the others ignored the pain and renewed their charge.

  Azerick ducked under the blade of a bandit that tried to take his head off in one powerful but clumsy blow. The sorcerer bent a small amount of his focus into his staff and shaped the arcanum ball at the end into a long, wicked spear point. Azerick ducked under the thug’s awkward slash, lunged forward, and impaled one of his companions just behind him.

  The sorcerer immediately spun to his left, caught the first bandit just behind his right heel before he could recover from his failed attack, and flipped the rogue onto his back before stabbing him through the heart.

  Another quick word and a flick of the wrist sent five blazing daggers of magical energy streaking into the chest of a third brigand, killing him instantly. The guard captain wasted no time in taking advantage of the distraction that the sorcerer had created and lashed out with his longsword, felling two of the outlaws before they were able to turn their attention back to him.

  However, now that the captain had gained their attention, he was once again fighting for his life against over half a dozen armed bandits. He used the side of the ruined carriage to keep any brigands from slipping behind him. So far, that tactic was about the only thing keeping him alive.

  Three more bandits faced Azerick and spread out so the wizard could not target them all with one spell from his dark sorceries, or so they prayed. All of them were hesitant to be the first one to try to engage him directly and stayed back, pointing their weapons at Azerick, and looking between themselves and the sorcerer to see which of them would be the first to attack.

  Azerick took advantage of their vacillation and raked a blast of lightning through the bandit in front of him. The powerful electrical arc passed through and struck several of the crossbowmen that were taking aim once more several yards behind the doomed brigand as well. Azerick spun to his left figuring that the remaining two bandits behind him would make their move as soon as he cast a spell, and they did not disappoint.

  The sorcerer stabbed forward with his short spear, but the bandit managed to turn it to the side with his buckler. Azerick instantly realized that his attack had overextended him and left him extremely vulnerable to a counter attack. He watched as the second bandit raised his blade and prepared to bring it down on the back of Azerick’s exposed neck. Azerick tried to dive forward, using his momentum to roll under and beyond the attack, but he knew he was not going to make it. In the blink of an eye, a long, goose feather-fletched shaft sprouted from the bandit’s neck, felling him instantly.

  Azerick’s roll carried him beyond the bandit that had blocked his thrust. He nimbly rolled to his feet and spun about, ready to cross weapons once more with the outlaw. However, when he turned and brought his spear up into the defensive position, the bandit was already clutching at an arrow in his chest and falling to the ground.

  Azerick looked around as the guard captain felled the last bandit that faced him. The bandit leader and another of the rogues had just darted into the tree line where the thundering of hooves announced their retreat.

  The sorcerer looked for his hidden rescuer but failed to see any sign of him, although he had a good idea who it might have been. With a tip of his head, he acknowledged his thanks and went to get Horse who was about a hundred yards away busily chomping on tufts of green grass, oblivious to the mortal peril that his master had just been in.

  Azerick led Horse by the bridle towards the wrecked coach just as the driver was extricating himself from a dense, thorny shrubbery he had dove into out of terror and the carriage door began to open.

  “My Lady, stay in the coach,” the guard captain commanded and stalked towards Azerick with his bloody blade drawn and his face set in a mask of rage.

  “I should gut you where you stand, wizard!” the captain screamed.

  “The likelihood of your accomplishing such an act is about as probable as you holding the rear of that coach up the rest of the way to North Haven,” Azerick assured the angry soldier. “It it is also not a very nice thing to say to the man that just saved your life, as well as whoever is in that coach.”

  The guard stopped a little over an arm’s length from the sorcerer. “You could have intervened sooner! Those men are dead because of you!” he shouted and whipped his sword around to point at the fallen soldiers behind him which sent droplets of blood flying off the gore-covered blade.

  Azerick was in no mood to listen to the soldier’s verbal abuse and accusations. Where was he when his mother was murdered? Where were the guards to come to his rescue when Hugo and his thugs were chasing and beating him through the streets of Southport? Of course, only nobles warranted the protection of guards.

 
; “Let me remind you once more that it is also because of me that you and your passengers are not dead as well! It was none of my affair nor was I honor bound to risk my life in their defense. That was you and your men’s job; one at which I say you performed exceedingly poorly seeing as how were it not for me you would have failed utterly!”

  The Captain’s face went from red to a blotchy purple in fury. Spittle flew from his lips as he forced his words through strained vocal cords. “What do you know of duty or honor? That boy who died at my back had a greater sense of duty and honor in his hairless chin than you have in your entire useless body! You, sir, are nothing but a coward and a petty charlatan! I would run you through right now, but it would be an insult to my blade to sully it with your yellow blood!”

  Azerick was about to respond with a scathing comment of his own when the carriage door burst open and two women stepped out. One woman was taller, just a few inches shorter than Azerick was, with long, full, wavy, auburn hair. She wore a dress of expensive material in white and light blue. The woman that followed close on her heels was comely in a plain sort of way, wore her soft brown hair braided and coiled upon her head, and was dressed in an emerald green dress snug fitting in the body but flared out in softer green and billowing white lace at the legs and shoulders.

  The auburn-haired woman spoke as she quickly stepped towards the two men who were seconds from trading blows. “Stop this! Stop this right now! Captain Brague, you will put away your sword this instant and not say another harsh word to this man!”

  “My Lady, this—” he paused to find a word to describe the sorcerer, “person, did nothing to assist me and my men, nor did he come to your aid until his own miserable life was threatened,” Captain Brague tried to explain.

  “I understand your anger, Captain, and I grieve for the men who gave their lives in my defense. Their families will receive due reward and pension for their sacrifice. However, this man is not honor bound to risk his life in my defense even if he had been aware of who was in the coach, which I assume he did not.” She turned to face Azerick who stood silently by listening to the guard captain’s chastisement. “As much as I wish you had intervened sooner so that more lives may have been saved, I do offer my thanks on behalf of myself, my people, and my mother, Duchess Mellina of North Haven. I am Lady Miranda, this is my handmaiden and friend Sarah, and you met the good Captain Brague. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Lady Miranda extended her right hand, fingertips down for Azerick to give his due courtesy.

  “I am Azerick,” he replied simply as he clasped Miranda’s proffered hand between his thumb and forefinger and gave it an informal shake.

  Miranda stifled a giggle of amusement at the sorcerer’s awkward introduction. “Not exactly the gallant are you, Magus Azerick?”

  Azerick could not help but lose a small bit of his hostility at Miranda’s open and friendly smile. “I am afraid not. Truth be known, my etiquette teacher struck me more often than my weapons trainer.”

  Miranda stifled a laugh out of respect for her fallen soldiers. “I can well imagine, Magus Azerick.”

  “Just Azerick please, Lady. I do not know if I qualify for such an honorific.”

  “And I am Miranda to my friends.”

  Captain Brague decided to interrupt the friendly conversation before he threw up his lunch. “My Lady, I must attend to the men before we must depart with great haste. We do not know if this may be part of a larger bandit force. I did observe their leader and another escaping into the woods.”

  “Of course, Captain, please see to it. I am sure the good magus will stay to protect us, at least until we are ready to depart. Won’t you, Azerick?” she asked with her pleading green eyes.

  “Of course I will. It would be my pleasure,” Azerick responded.

  Even his hard heart was softened a bit by Miranda’s open and carefree sprit. Captain Brague doffed his heavy armor, grabbed a pickaxe and shovel from the toolbox at the back of the coach, and began breaking up the hard soil along with the coach driver.

  “I’m sure the good magus will protect us,” the soldier mockingly seethed as his anger fueled his heavy swings. “It would be my pleasure. Oh, are those bandits plunging their blades into you? Let me help you as soon as I’m finished with my lunch. It’s not my job to risk my life for my Lords and Ladies. No, that job goes to big, dumb soldiers who are actually stupid enough to believe in honor!”

  “Did you say something, Captain?” Miranda called over to him.

  Captain Brague ground his teeth until he was sure they were nothing more than white little nubs just poking above his gums. “No, My Lady.”

  Despite the early spring, the sun beat down upon the group. The heat was particularly merciless to Captain Brague and Otis as they continued to hammer away at the stubborn soil while Azerick kept the two women company.

  Miranda turned back to the sorcerer. “Azerick, is there anything you could do to help the good captain and our driver with the graves?”

  “Of course, let me go see what I can do.”

  Azerick excused himself from the women’s company and walked up to the captain and the driver who were both sweating profusely from the strenuous work. “Miranda beseeched me to offer you my assistance—again.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?” Captain Brague asked sardonically. “I thought you only offered help when the job is nearly finished. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get any dirt under your fingernails.”

  Azerick ignored the captain’s sarcasm. It was much more aggravating to be polite than to let himself be baited into another argument.

  “I assure you, Captain, I have no intention of dirtying my nails.”

  Reciting the words of an incantation, a large hole opened between the guard and the driver. Azerick repeated the spell three more times, creating enough grave space to burry all of the fallen soldiers. The bandits they simply threw off the side of the road.

  “Why couldn’t you have done that an hour ago?” Captain Brague demanded.

  Azerick put on the most disdainful and arrogant look he could muster; one fit for a noble. “Your efforts and struggles that I had found so amusing simply became tedious.”

  Captain Brague had never wanted to stab a man in the back as badly as he did the moment the sorcerer walked away. The guards’ horses were easy to recover, being trained not to spook easily at the sound of battle. They also found nine more horses saddled and picketed about a hundred yards from the ambush site that must have belonged to the bandits.

  “It looks as though we are going to have to ride the rest of the way to North Haven,” Miranda announced once the soldiers were buried and words of condolences and farewell were spoken. “Come, Sarah, we will have to change into something more appropriate for riding.”

  Azerick’s eyes followed the two women as they disappeared back into the coach to change clothes.

  “You had best watch your eyes, boy, or I’ll cut them out,” Brague promised. “It is my duty to protect Lady Miranda with my life, and I will do so from every threat.”

  “Given the level of competence you have displayed thus far I am surprised she is not already heavy with child from any number of men; myself included given that I have been under your watchful eye for the better part of an hour,” Azerick fired back.

  The captain reached for his sword as Azerick took a step back, smiling at his ability to provoke the soldier. Miranda and her maid stepped from the coach just as Brague unsheathed his weapon.

  “Captain, put away that blade this instant! Can I not turn my back for a moment without you two going at each other’s throats?”

  “My Lady, this scoundrel made some very obscene remarks. I was defending your honor!” Captain Brague said in his defense.

  “Actually it was your very act of turning your back that got him so concerned. It seems that the captain thinks that should he let his vigilance slip but for a moment, every man within eyesight will attempt to mount you as if you were a mar
e in heat,” Azerick told her.

  Captain Brague’s eyes bulged and his face turned violet once more. “Lies, I never said any such thing!”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Miranda pleaded and stepped between the two men. “I need both of you to respect each other, at least for the duration of the trip to North Haven. Assuming Azerick would be willing to accompany us and agree to assist us. Would you provide us such protection, Azerick? My mother will certainly wish to bestow her thanks to you for saving our lives.”

  “I was going to North Haven anyway, so I suppose I can play bodyguard for a while,” agreed Azerick.

  “Good, now no more fighting or bickering between you two. Let us mount up and be away from this dreadful place.”

  Azerick noticed that Miranda had changed into riding pants and wore a leather vest over a white silk shirt. She had exchanged her elegant shoes for tall riding boots that reached just below the knee. Her handmaiden had changed into a similar but more feminine and flowing garb. Captain Brague and the driver, Otis, tethered the horses behind their own. The riderless horses had a variety of packs, bundles, and chests strapped to their backs that constituted the majority of the coach’s salvaged contents as well as the shields, swords, and personal effects of the fallen soldiers so that they could be returned to their families.

  Captain Brague tried his best to keep him and his horse between the obnoxious mage and Lady Miranda without appearing to obvious about it. But every time he did, Miranda would work her way right back to Azerick’s side.

  “So tell me, Azerick, where are you coming from?” Miranda asked him.

  “East, but I used to live in Southport.”

  “Did you study at the Academy?”

  “For a while, but I left,” Azerick vaguely replied.

  “That must have been very exciting!”

  “It was—memorable,” Azerick conceded.