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

by Brock Deskins

  ***

  Azerick checked the arcanum-inlaid runes carved in his laboratory floor against those written in the Codex Arcana for perhaps the tenth time. Finally confident he had everything correct, he fed power into the design. The sigils flared brightly and the floor began to vibrate. The entire room began to thrum with the pulse of a giant beating heart.

  A crack appeared in the floor and quickly spider-webbed out from its center. A small section of the floor buckled upward as if something were burrowing out of the ground and into the room. A round object breached through the stone floor like a creature being birthed, rising as the ground expelled it from its earthen womb.

  The head-sized crystal sprouted from the floor on a stock of polished stone, waiting for its master to command it. Azerick placed his hands upon its glassy surface, closed his eyes in concentration, and fed power into the stone. Even through his closed eyelids, Azerick sensed the change in the light around him. The smells of his lab vanished and the moist, seaside air became dry and sterile.

  “The false Guardian returns. Have you come to plead for mercy?”

  Azerick ignored the Scions’ projected thoughts as he pressed his hands against the unending magical barrier in search of weaknesses. It did not take long to find the first one. He channeled power into the weave, fusing the many broken strands of magic like a fisherman mending a net.

  “It does not want to talk to us. How rude.”

  “It does not want its voice to betray its fear.”

  “How incredibly pointless. Its mind is awash in fear.”

  “At least it has the intelligence to be afraid.”

  Azerick continued to repair weaknesses in the barrier even as the Scions bombarded his mind with images of the horrors they were going to inflict upon the races. Despite his mental defenses, the gods extracted bits of his memories and used them in a collage of nightmares. Azerick finally finished his work and broke the connection to the Scions’ prison. He slumped down into his chair, physically and emotionally exhausted.

  Daebian sat on the floor of his room carefully arranging his tin soldiers into battle formation. He played alone, like usual, since his new brother was off with Father or practicing with Ellyssa, and he could not stand the banality of children his own apparent age. Most people would see a boy playing with toys, but anyone with respectable military training would see the perfect arrangement of soldiers.

  The smaller force stood poised behind barriers of wooden blocks and trenches drawn with chalk. Spearman, cavalry, and archers were all arrayed in perfect formation against the horde of beads and tokens used to identify the vastly superior enemy army. Five dolls towered over the battlefield, the five great generals of the enemy.

  Daebian commanded the two armies to clash but did not touch a single piece. In his head, a dozen different battles played out in a dozen different ways but all with the same conclusion. Even with the tactical advantage of the smaller army, the power of the five generals and their much larger army resulted in an enemy victory every time.

  You have an incredibly keen mind for battle.

  Daebian looked up from the floor and stared into the shadowy corner of his room. “Who is there?”

  Someone who cares about you.

  Daebian looked back at his soldiers. “Only my mother cares about me.”

  Your father cares about you.

  “No he doesn’t. He only cares about Raijaun and magic. He probably would not care about him either if he did not have magic.”

  What you say is true, but I meant your other father.

  “You mean the demon. He is not my father.”

  He is much more your father than Azerick. I am here while he avoids you in his laboratory, teaching and bonding with your brother.

  “You are not here either. Neither am I for that matter. I know the difference between a dream and reality.”

  What you say is true, you are dreaming, but we are both here all the same.

  “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

  I want to help you. I want to make you stronger as befits the son of a prince.

  “You are a demon and a liar.”

  I am, but I will not lie to you.

  Daebian’s lip quirked in amusement. “Yes you will, but you will not fool me. What do you want, and what is in it for me?”

  I want to make you powerful. Having a properly powerful son is my reward.

  “What can you do?”

  As I am, very little beyond talking to you in your dreams. I am completely imprisoned within your father, but there is a way for a small part of me to escape. Within your father’s vault is a black gem called a soul stone. A soul stone is able to trap the soul of a living creature within it. You can trap a small part of my essence within the stone. I will then be able to share a small amount my power with you.

  “What is to keep you from invading my mind and taking my body?”

  I will not be in your mind. I will be trapped within the stone and only a shadow copy at that. My true soul will still be trapped within your father.

  “Then why go through the trouble? Demons do nothing without personal gain.”

  It allows me to help you become as great as you deserve to be. It also provides something of a window to my otherwise boring prison. At least then I could look out and experience things beyond the inside of your father’s head.

  “I will think on it, demon. Now leave my dreams.”

  As you wish, my son.

  Azerick started awake, surprised more by the fact he fell asleep than the echoing of Klaraxis’ laughter inside his head.

  “What is so funny, demon?”

  Nothing you would appreciate.

  Azerick refused to engage the demon. There was too much to do to entertain him with dialog, certainly too much to do to waste time sleeping. He forced his weary body from the chair and opened the Codex. He thought back to the huge, rune-inscribed pillars that transported the psyling slave ship to their city.

  “Show me.”

  The pages of the Codex Arcana fluttered as if caught in strong draft and displayed the thing Azerick sought. The sorcerer read page after page of the complex spell and physical construction of the gateways.

  “This is certainly going to take some work,” he muttered aloud.

  Daebian picked at his breakfast and tuned out the droning of the adults sitting at the table. As usual, his father was not present and neither was Raijaun. That could only mean his brother was in the lab with Father. Daebian was just finishing his breakfast when Raijaun entered from the kitchen. His meals were almost entirely meat barely cooked, and he preferred to eat them away from the eyes of the others.

  “Ah, look who crawled out of his dungeon,” Daebian said as Raijaun entered.

  “Daebian, be nice,” Miranda said.

  Daebian ignored his mother. “What new and exciting things have you and Father been doing these past few nights?”

  “Father is teaching me about using my magic, the barrier, the Scions, and how to resist them when he takes me to their prison world.”

  “Wonderful, there’s a regular convention of monsters going on just below our feet.”

  “Daebian, enough!” Miranda ordered.

  Daebian smiled. “My little brother knows I am just playing. Don’t you, Raijaun?”

  “I should go see if Father needs me.”

  Miranda stopped Raijaun before he could escape out the door. “Raijaun, I was going into the city today. I thought perhaps you would like to come with me.”

  “What a wonderful idea, Mother. If we are entertaining ugly, perhaps I can take one of Peck’s horses to the Winterfest ball.”

  “Daebian, that is enough! Apologize to your brother this instant!”

  Raijaun had already fled through the door when Daebian shouted after him. “Raijaun, I’m sorry you’re ugly!”

  Miranda slammed her palm down on the tabletop. “What is wrong with you? Go to your room. You can spend the rest of the day there thinking of how y
ou can apologize to Raijaun and treat him better.”

  Daebian left the room singing:

  “There once were two brothers,

  One more handsome than the other.

  One had brains the other had power,

  And in desperate need of a long hot shower.

  Oh, how Mother hates the smart one’s sass,

  But better than looking like a troll’s ass.”

  Daebian ignored Miranda’s shouted rebuke as he darted out of the tower and crossed the grounds.

  “What is wrong with that boy?” Miranda asked.

  “A bit of sibling rivalry, I’d wager,” Allister replied. “Azerick has been preoccupied with his work, and Daebian feels excluded since he cannot help like Raijaun does.”

  “I will have to speak to my husband and get him to spend more time with Daebian. There is no reason he cannot take an hour or two out of his day for his son.”

  “I wish you luck. Azerick needs something to take his mind off these preparations. He is obsessed and needs some healthy diversion.”

  Daebian would go to his room, but he had several stops to make on the way. It could take him hours to finally reach his room. By then, the day would be almost gone and his punishment little more than an inconvenience. Hopefully Mother would not catch on to her poorly worded disciplinary action and be more explicit about how long it should take him to reach his room in the future.

  Daebian watched Simon enter the old tower and silently followed him down the stairs. The little accountant was as predictable as a clock when it came to doing his duties. Daebian had to wait only a few minutes for him to do the morning inventory of his father’s vault.

  He waited around the corner of the open door until Simon became totally engrossed in his counting. Daebian slipped into the room and scanned the shelves holding an assortment of items. His eyes fell almost immediately upon a small brass chest resting at his eye level, just as Klaraxis had shown him in his dream. He opened the lid of the box and saw four gems, each the size of a human eye. Daebian had no interest in any of the jewels except the black one.

  It had been fairly easy to find a nearly black piece of costume jewelry with which to replace the soul stone. Without hesitating, Daebian swapped the pieces, deftly palming the soul stone and slipping it into his pocket.

  “What are you doing in here, Daebian?” Simon demanded.

  Daebian did not so much as flinch and gave Simon an innocent smile. “Just looking at Father’s shiny things.”

  Simon looked at the gems resting in their padded box before snapping the lid shut. “This is not a place to play. There are some very dangerous things in here. Go along and play elsewhere.”

  “Okay, Simon.”

  Daebian waggled his fingers at Simon over his shoulder as he skipped out of the room and back up the stairs. His fake gem would not pass scrutiny, but Simon was no wizard to detect the lack of magic and Father was unlikely to ever use such an artifact. Daebian was not sure he would use it either. He did not trust the demon, but he did like the idea of power. He figured it was best to have the gem on hand in case he decided to use it.

  He had also best check on Mother’s whereabouts in case she decided to look in on him before she left for the city. Daebian snuck out of the old tower and skirted the nearest buildings. He was about to dart across the open ground between one of the classrooms and the new tower when Mother and Father appeared in the doorway and descended the steps.

  “Must you leave right away?” Miranda asked.

  “I do. Peck will have been several days on the road, and I want to engage the assembly before they have too much time to develop a proper strategy to resist me.”

  “I suppose you are right, but promise me that when you return you will spend some time with Daebian. He longs for a father and is acting out to get your attention.”

  “All right, when I get back I will take some time for him. Alex says he is an amazing swordsman. I would like to see him at practice.”

  Miranda embraced and kissed Azerick. “Good, and I will take Raijaun to the city and show him around the castle. Hopefully, your attention will alleviate some of Daebian’s jealousy.”

  Jealous? Hardly. However, he did not like to share. If boring old Father wanted to spend time with him, which he offered with great reluctance, he would allow it, but he was not about to share his mother with that freak.

  “I will make time when I get back,” Azerick promised and returned her kiss.

  Azerick crossed the compound and paused atop the wall. To the south, over a thousand warriors engaged in fierce training. Some groups practiced with weapons and movement drills while others ran in teams with logs on their shoulders and maneuvered past a series obstacles. Younger students not physically ready for frontline combat trained with weapons inside the walls and drilled in support duties.

  In the open field to the east, Ellyssa and the other cadre drilled students of all ages. The field was awash with fire, lightning, and brilliant orbs of arcane power as they smashed the illusionary enemy conjured by the instructors. Younger students wove wards around the older, learning how to draw power from the Source and maintain invisible barriers to slow and stop the enemy long enough for the stronger students to cut them down.

  The training was intense and Azerick saw more than one student falter under the relentless assault. Students waiting in reserve rushed forward, ushered the fatigued mage back, and took his or her place in the line, never allowing a break in the wall. As the mock battle intensified, the line began to waver. More students collapsed and the reserve was not filling in fast enough. The illusionary ravagers broke through the shields and vanished just before tearing into the beleaguered wizards. Azerick could not hear from this distance, but from Ellyssa’s furious gesticulations he surmised they were getting an earful.

  Azerick jumped down from the wall, easily managing the substantial drop. He set a course between the two training groups and walked briskly for the distant tree line. He made a brief study of the two sides as he walked. He hoped they would be ready for joint training within the year. He would have them ready for combined training within a year, Azerick amended.

  Azerick enjoyed the peacefulness and solitude of the forest. It was the first real peace he has had in years. The kiss of the wind against his face and the smell of the pine trees made him feel almost human, but the lonely tranquility did not last long.

  “If you are going to follow me, you may as well come out and help me find her.”

  Wolf appeared from behind a tree a few dozen yards away and Ghost crept out of the shadows nearby. Azerick was still surprised by the appearance of the nearly grown young man. In his mind, Wolf was still the wildling he met and seemingly adopted those years ago. Or, perhaps, it was Wolf who had adopted him.

  “Ghost still doesn’t like the way you smell.”

  “If he could get used to your stink, then he will get used to mine.”

  Wolf flashed his signature broad smile. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to find Sandy. I could use the help if you want to tag along.”

  “Why don’t you just make your face appear in the water like last time?” Wolf asked as he fell into step next to Azerick.

  “She told you about that?”

  “Of course, she tells me everything.”

  “I need to ask a favor and would rather do it in person. The two-way scrying feels a little obtrusive.”

  Wolf bobbed his head in understanding. “So, Raijaun is what exactly?”

  “He is my son,” Azerick replied flatly.

  Wolf mulled over his next words for almost a minute before asking, “What was his mother?”

  “She was complicated.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “She was a Guardian, a creature crafted by the elves by combining the essence of an elf and a dragon to help fight the Scions.”

  “I see. And you two…?”

  Azerick grinned and shook his head. “No. She created Raijaun much the sa
me way the elves created her.”

  “Oh, okay.” Wolf paused and thought a moment. “And the elf and dragon never…?”

  Azerick laughed so hard he had to stop walking and catch his breath. “Wolf, I think you need a girlfriend.”

  Wolf crossed his arms and looked defensive. “Maybe I already have one! I might have several. In a year or two, your school could be overrun with pointy-eared little wildlings.”

  “The gods help us if there is ever more than one of you.”

  “It would be the greatest blessing the gods ever bestowed upon mankind.”

  “The kitchens would never survive such an infestation.”

  “Infestation?” Wolf protested loudly. “My offspring is like the rain following a devastating drought!”

  “Which eventually drowns everyone.”

  Wolf scoffed. “Drown the rats maybe.”

  “Unfortunately, it is always the rats who find a way to cling to safety and survive.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? That’s why there’s people like you and me to kick them back into the water.”

  “Wolf, when the Scions come, they are going to swarm this valley. I have a plan to evacuate everyone to Brelland. You need to stay close when the fighting stops so you can join us.”

  Wolf’s boy-like humor vanished and Azerick saw the young man he had become emerge. “This is my home, Azerick. I spent a couple years wandering with Ghost, not having a home or a place I felt accepted and loved. I have fought invaders in these woods before, and I will fight them again.”

  “I do not think you understand the magnitude of what is coming. This is not some band of mercenaries or even undead monsters crawling from the earth. Their numbers will fill this valley for as far as the eye can see.”

  “That just means there will be more to kill.”

  “I have no doubt as to your courage or strength, but neither of those things can hope to defeat them. Only by fighting together can we hope to survive.”

  “I guess surviving isn’t enough for me. You know I have some rather lofty standards.”

  Azerick squeezed the half-elf’s shoulder. “Coming from you, they are not so lofty.”

  “I don’t need you to affirm my greatness—but thanks.”