The Sorcerer's Return (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  “Much of the immediate preparation is on my shoulders. I must meet with the heads of the kingdom, Academy, and even the other races. We cannot stand alone on this, and their existence is in as much peril as ours. Miranda, I must speak with your mother as soon as possible, and I will need you to urge her to support what I propose.”

  “Of course.”

  “Simon.”

  The nervous little steward visibly jumped. “Yes, uh, Lord Giles?”

  “You are going to hate this, but I must open my treasury. I will need to hire every man or woman capable of forging metal or shaping timbers. We are going to need weapons and armor on a scale you cannot imagine. The mountains behind us are full of iron. Anyone not conscripted into military service will be part of its support. That means blacksmiths, wainwrights, leather workers, miners, cooks, carpenters, coopers, and every profession you think an army needs to survive.”

  Azerick scanned the assembled crowd. “Peck, I need you to establish a communication line between the four primary cities of the kingdom. I have an idea for quick travel between the cities, but it will be up to you and your team to warn the towns in between. Argoth is too far for horses, and I am counting on The Academy to communicate with The Hall of Inquisition to warn of the invasion. The first thing I need is for you to carry a letter to King Jarvin. Miranda, can the Duchess issue Peck an order giving him permission to use the Black Guards’ way stations?”

  Miranda nodded. “For matters of urgent concern, regional rulers can issue such writs.”

  “Peck will need that today. Peck, I want you to pick your own team. Find a dozen of the best riders we have. I will give you a more detailed explanation of your duties later.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Peck exclaimed and saluted smartly.

  “I will have the new training guidelines to the rest of you tomorrow. I cannot express enough the importance of working together. Many of you are going to think my training barbaric and unnecessarily brutal, but you must all understand why it must be so. Our enemy is going to be twice as intense and brutal as anything we can physically and mentally prepare for. We must push ourselves to our limits to have any chance at victory.”

  “All right, son. We’re with you,” Allister assured him.

  Azerick smiled and shook his head ruefully. “You are today. Let us see what tomorrow brings. I must go and prepare a great many things. It is wonderful to see you all again.”

  “Azerick,” Allister butted in, “you just returned. Take a day for your wife and son.”

  “Allister, as much as I want to, I have a hundred things to do today and just as many tomorrow.”

  “Then do two hundred things tomorrow. Today you have but one thing that must be done. See to your family.”

  Azerick looked into Miranda’s pleading eyes and smiled. “You are right, Allister. Thank you.”

  “And thank you for not making me put you over my knee.”

  Everyone appreciated the break in the tension and chuckled as they dispersed. It took only a few moments of scraping chair legs and the stomping of retreating feet before Azerick found himself alone with Miranda. He felt like a boy again, nervous and unsure of what to do. The rare instance of not being totally certain of what he was doing and in control of the situation was so unnerving he almost felt normal.

  Miranda broke the awkward silence. “I never stopped thinking of you. I missed you so much, but I went on knowing that somehow we were not done. Not yet and not you. In my heart I knew you would return. Did you think of me?”

  “I tried not to,” Azerick answered honestly. “I spent every moment trying to find a way out to get back to you. I could not afford the grief thinking about you and Daebian caused me. When I was unable to distract myself from your memory, it was devastating.”

  Miranda held Azerick tightly. “You are back now, and we are together. That is all that matters.”

  Azerick gently pushed Miranda to arm’s length. “Miranda, I need you to understand the gravity of what we are facing and my role in it. I must have your total support. Many people are going to resist me, deny what is coming. Denial will doom us before the first enemy reaches our shores. Can I count you?”

  “You have to ask? Of course you can count on me. You can always count on me no matter what.”

  Azerick smiled, but his eyes left her face and stared into the distance. He knew Miranda meant what she said, but her answer was based on things she could not understand, and he knew those things would stretch her love and understanding to the breaking point. He just prayed not beyond.

  “We should check on the boys.”

  Miranda and Azerick spent much of the day turning one of Daebian’s rooms into a bedroom for Raijaun. Azerick expected some resistance, as any child would object to someone encroaching on their territory, but Daebian surprised them both. The boys spent most of the day moving things out of the play room to make room for Raijaun.

  The dinner meal was served with a heavy amount of questions, most of which Azerick evaded. There would be answers and more questions, along with objections, when he gave them his training guide. His friends obliged him his reluctance and let him steer the conversation to the more mundane.

  After dinner, Miranda and his closest friends spent the evening telling him about everything that had happened while he was gone. The school continued to flourish until The Academy practically halted magical training. His trading company continued to grow, absorbing several smaller outfits until it dwarfed its nearest rival. North Haven’s economy was the best it had been in generations, thanks to the tax revenues generated by Azerick’s company and the employment it provided.

  The evening seemed to drag on for an eternity. Azerick felt as if he might jump out of his skin if he did not get to his lab. He had so much to do and scarcely knew where to begin, much less how he would get it done. He felt a surge of relief when everyone began retiring to their rooms.

  “I suppose we should seek our bed as well,” Miranda said once they were alone.

  “Miranda, I have so much to do. I have lost so much time today already.” Azerick inwardly winced when his brain shouted ‘wasted’.

  “Azerick, please, give me this night,” Miranda begged. “You said you would give us a day. Please, start your day on the morrow.”

  Azerick smiled at his wife. “Of course. Forgive me. I am preoccupied with a thousand things.”

  Azerick laid next to Miranda, staring up at the ceiling darkness could not hide from his demonic eyes. He listened to Miranda’s soft breathing as his emotions waged a pitched battle within his heart. He knew he was not the man Miranda needed. He felt like a liar every time he held her. Azerick slipped his legs over the side of the bed and stealthily made his way down to his laboratory.

  Unable to sleep, Miranda felt Azerick leave. He looked and sounded like her husband, but there was something missing in the way he touched her. It felt strained, almost like a stranger. The love was still there in his touch, but the passion it once conveyed was gone. She promised to support him and she would. She would do her duty as a proper wife. Duty, like she felt in Azerick’s touch. She flipped her pillow over to the side not sodden with her silent tears and willed herself to sleep.

  It was an easy task for Azerick to use the Codex Arcana and a stack of blank books to create copies of his training manual. In less than an hour, he had two dozen books detailing what he knew of the Scions and their forces and the grueling training he hoped would allow them to battle such a terrifying enemy.

  His next task was far more complicated. Azerick stood in front of a polished silver mirror hanging on the wall. As he drew in the Source, he pictured a face in his mind, imagining every strand of hair, wrinkle, and pore. He imagined his voice and the particulars of his individual spirit.

  The mirror remained dark for several minutes. A yellow glow began to shine from within and grew brighter. A face appeared in the mirror, Illuminated by a floating orb of soft yellow. Although Azerick stared into a mirror, the face looking back was n
ot his own.

  “Azerick, is that you, boy?” the elder sorcerer asked in astonishment.

  “Yes, Master Devlin.”

  Devlin grinned at his former apprentice. “I told you before, you’ve no business calling me master, now more than ever. Interesting spell you have here. Is it from the Codex?”

  “It is,” Azerick replied. “I have had need to use a great deal of information from the book.”

  “I am glad to see you back. I heard of your return, and of your attacking The Hall of Inquisition.”

  “It was hardly an attack. They had things belonging to me. I merely asked for them back.”

  “Your wayward apprentice and the Codex Arcana,” Devlin said with a nod. “Still, I hear there was a battle.”

  “There was some foolishness,” Azerick admitted ruefully. “I hope I have resolved the disagreement well enough to prevent any more such hostilities. Our kingdom, yours and mine, can ill afford it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you heard of the Scions?”

  Devlin mentally tore through the pages of his impressive store of knowledge. “I am afraid I do not recall any such beings.”

  Azerick explained what he knew of the Scions and their hatred of the races. “They have gone to great length to make us forget they ever existed, but that is soon to change. When they break free, they will eradicate anyone capable of wielding magic and their entire bloodline. I am speaking of a purge of the races beyond imagining.”

  “This is very difficult to digest. What is it you wish of me?”

  “Are you in Sumara now?”

  “I am,” Devlin affirmed. “I am afraid I wore out my welcome a while back, and The Academy made a formal request to my brother to recall his ambassador. I am not terribly upset. You Valerians’ cuisine leaves much to be desired.”

  “I am glad you are home. I will send you a copy of a book I wrote detailing everything I know of the Scions and the tactics I am ordering adopted to fight them.”

  “I see. What would you have of me?”

  “I need you to convince your brother to begin conscripting the largest army he can. I am going to convince King Jarvin to assist you by sending additional food south. My standards are going to seem excessive and many will resist employing them, but you must follow them. The old ways of doing battle will not suffice, especially concerning the wizards.”

  Devlin looked serious as he thought. “I think I understand. I will do what I can.”

  “There is one more thing, and you are not going to like it. In fact, everyone other than me is going to hate it.”

  “What is it?” the Sumaran asked.

  “When the Scions come, your army must ride with all haste to Valeria and fight alongside us.”

  “Azerick, you are powerful and you have faced challenges I cannot imagine, but you know nothing of politics. Even if we could ride to your aide, it would be impossible to do so without it looking like an invasion. Even if we were able to enter into some sort of treaty, your nobles would suspect treachery and underhandedness and never agree to such a thing. Beyond that, you would ask us to abandon our homeland to save yours in the face of the most terrible enemy imaginable, if you are correct in your assessment. Such a request is beyond ridiculous.”

  “If it were any other enemy, I would agree, Devlin. You must understand your kingdom is not in immediate peril.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because they are all coming for me. I replaced the Guardian and am now the one slowing their escape. I also annihilated the closest thing they had to children. Devlin, I committed genocide upon their favored creations, and they will stop at nothing to make me pay for it. If Valeria falls, and without you it will, they will then turn south and destroy you just as easily.”

  “It is lucky for you my brother is the king, and I am such a skilled orator.”

  “Nothing leading up to this has been luck or chance. Our gods have carefully crafted every event that put us together. Will you try to do everything I have asked, or do I need to come down there and make the request in person?”

  Devlin chuckled. “I would rather face these Scions and their minions in battle than face your request.” Devlin released a deep sigh. “I cannot imagine leaving our homeland with an enemy invading our neighbors.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course. This appears to be the night for suggestions.”

  “Part of my plan calls for putting weapons in the hands of every man, woman, and child able to wield them. Obviously, not everyone will be able to travel to Valeria. Pull all your villages and tribes into your major cities. This will provide a large garrison behind fortified walls to deal with any minor incursions the Scions may send. It would not be unreasonable for them to send some of their army into your lands to sow fear and draw your people home. Whatever happens, we must not let them divide us or we will all perish. Devlin, you must believe me in this, and you must make your brother believe it as well.”

  “I believe you, and if it takes my dying breath, I will make my brother believe as well.”

  “If he has doubts, take him to Bruneford’s Mill. Little more than two hundred of the Scions basic troops slaughtered nearly fifteen times their own number, and I was there to help.”

  Devlin visibly blanched. “I read the report my people intercepted. I had thought it a gross exaggeration of events, or the panicked tales of peasants.”

  “It was little more than a scouting party, and it would have decimated the town had my apprentice and I not been there.”

  “I give you my word; I will not fail in my task.”

  “Thank you, Devlin. I wish I was foolish enough to hope my own people will be so cooperative.”

  Azerick ended the spell and the mirror showed him his own face once again. Convincing Devlin was one of his most important tasks, but the one in which he felt the most confident of gaining support. He needed to make several more contacts in hopes of gaining the alliances to fight the Scions, but how those would go he could not begin to speculate.

  He decided to contact the least likely of his potential allies next, or attempt to anyway. He met her only once, but she nearly killed him, and such a thing tends to leave a rather indelible mark on one’s psyche. Azerick pictured Teraneshala’s perfect alabaster face and hair so silver it looked as though the Source was cascading down her head. He recalled the flow of her magic and its unique signature.

  Staring into the mirror, he called out her name. “Teraneshala. Teraneshala.”

  The abyssal elf’s face filled the mirror with its haunting, ethereal beauty. “Little sorcerer, what an amazing surprise. Have you sought me out for a rematch?”

  Azerick smiled at her and shook his head. “I have not.”

  “That is good to hear. I have a feeling it would not go well for me a second time,” she said as she let the gathered Source slip away. “I sense you have grown a great deal since we last met, though into what I cannot say.”

  “It is a long story, and I have little time. None of us have much time, I am afraid.”

  “You sound so ominous. What has you so worried you would contact the likes of me?”

  “I am contacting many people. Do you know of the Scions?”

  The elf’s face lost its amused look and turned serious. “My people will never forget those creatures. They are what forced us to abandon our surface homes and cousins and seek the solitude of the deep. What do you know of them?”

  “The Guardians are all dead, and my son and I stand in their stead. The Scions are coming, and I cannot prevent their escape. I am certain they will concentrate most of their power on destroying me before subjugating the few they allow to live.”

  “Why should they focus on you when they could divide their power between the major races and conquer them all at once?”

  “Several reasons. Our knowledge of magic has spread far beyond what it was during the Great Revolution as has our populations. I am the last to be named Guardian, and
they have a particular hatred of me. Do you know of the destruction I wrought in the psyling city?”

  “I sensed your hand in it. Whatever calamity you invoked was the reason I was able to escape in the split-second their control slipped.”

  “The destruction I caused was total. It destroyed the city and every living creature within it. The psylings were the favored creations of the Scions, their children almost. The Scions are rather angry about a mere human destroying something they spent a lot of time and effort creating.”

  Teraneshala thought back to her captivity. “Yes, I see the connection. It is so obvious in retrospect. What is you wish of me?”

  “Given your power, I assume you have some standing amongst your people.” The abyssal elf nodded. “I need you to convince them to arm for war and join the surface races to fight the Scions.”

  “Why would my people do that? Many will argue to stay hidden or dig even deeper into the heart of our world.”

  “You know there is no hole deep enough in which to hide that the Scions will not dig you out. They have not forgotten your part in their defeat and will not rest until they crush everyone beneath their boot.”

  “What you say is true, human, but some will still argue. Have you received the pledge of our surface cousins?”

  “It is on my to-do list. How likely do you think they are to join us against the Scions?”

  “Just mentioning those horrible creatures will have them swarming like bees. They will prepare, but whether or not they will shelve their arrogance and deign to fight with you is another question.”

  “I will cross that bridge when it comes. What of you? Will you argue my case to your people?”

  “I will, if for no other reason than to see you in true battle. When the time comes, we will be there.”

  “Thank you, Teraneshala.”

  “Thank you for freeing me from those vile creatures. Fortunately for you, I think so highly of myself that I consider helping you save the world nearly an even payment for my life.”

  The abyssal elf severed Azerick’s modified scrying spell and vanished from view. Azerick breathed an enormous sigh of relief. He was unsure if he would be able to speak to Teraneshala, much less convince her of helping him. The gods must truly be on his side. This type of two-way scrying was complicated and fatiguing, but he had one more person he desperately needed to contact before resting.