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

by Brock Deskins

  “So, do you know where Sandy is?”

  “Of course. She’s been sticking closer to the school since you came back. We can probably reach her before nightfall.”

  Wolf was true to his word. Just before nightfall, they found Sandy relaxing in a clearing largely devoid of the destruction caused by her training.

  “Sandy, guess who’s here,” Wolf called out as they entered her grove.

  “Azerick.”

  “It was rhetorical,” Wolf said, cross at her ruining his surprise.

  “Hello, Azerick. What brings you walking all the way out here?”

  “I need to ask a favor.”

  “Why not put your face in the water again and save yourself the time?”

  “That’s what I asked!” Wolf exclaimed. “He said it was rude or something.”

  “I said it was obtrusive.”

  The sand dragon snorted with a blast of heated air. “More obtrusive than walking into someone’s home without notice?”

  “Right? Who can understand humans? They’re all weird,” Wolf agreed.

  “I certainly gave up trying,” she replied. “What did you come to see me about?”

  “I need to ask a favor.”

  “Of course you do. Only Wolf comes to visit for purely social reasons. Although, I do always end up feeding him, so his motivation may not be entirely altruistic either.”

  “Hey, I pay for my meals with the pleasure of my company,” Wolf protested.

  Sandy ignored him. “What do you need?”

  “I need to get to Brelland as quickly as possible. I was hoping you would suffer taking me.”

  “Of course. Anytime anyone around here is in a hurry they think they can just strap a saddle on Sandy as if she was some old riding horse,” Sandy said bitterly. “Their convenience is far more important than my dignity.”

  “Sandy, I am very sorry and I would not ask if it were not important. Will you take me?”

  “Of course, but you don’t think I am going to make it easy on you, do you?”

  Azerick could only smile and shake his head. Some things never changed, and for that he was grateful.

  Wolf scratched his head, either in thought or due to fleas. “Ellyssa said you could turn into some big demon thing with wings. Why not fly there yourself?”

  “I do not care to care to take the demon’s form. It makes it harder for me to contain him, and it is uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable? Try strapping a saddle to your back and flying someone halfway, or all the way in Wolf’s case, across the kingdom sometime,” Sandy complained halfheartedly.

  “I am not unaccustomed to flight and can spare you the discomfort of a saddle.”

  “You’re all heart, always thinking of others’ comfort.” Azerick sighed as Wolf burst out in laughter, enjoying the taunting. “Are you ready to go now?”

  “Sooner is much better than later.”

  Sandy crouched low and Azerick climbed onto her broad back. “You’re a lot heavier than you look!”

  “Can you manage it?”

  Sandy snorted. “Of course I can. Sand dragons can do anything they put their mind too.”

  “Except diet!” Wolf said, slapping his knee and laughing uproariously.

  Sandy glared and flicked her tail, catching Wolf in his rump as he bent over laughing and sent him tumbling. “Ow! I think I broke my funny bone. Sandy, what does that feel like? You must have broken yours at one time, if you ever had one.”

  Sandy thrust up with her legs with all her might and began beating her huge wings. The force of the wind she created knocked Wolf down once more just as he was getting back to his feet. Sandy released a fierce roar as she strained to break gravity’s hold. Every beat of her wings lifted her and Azerick a few feet higher until they cleared the towering treetops.

  Once Sandy gained some appreciable altitude, her struggles lessened and she fell into a comfortable rhythm. Azerick knew the feeling of flight and was not as awed as Ellyssa and Wolf had been by the experience, but feeling the awesome power of dragon beneath him was impressive. Despite Azerick’s formidable burden, Sandy made the week-long journey to the capital before sunrise. Azerick pointed to patch of open ground amidst a huge tract of maple trees perhaps an hour’s walk from the city.

  “Will you need me to ferry you back as well?”

  “If you are at all amenable, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  “I will stay in the area a few days.”

  Azerick stroked the brilliant scales on her foreleg. “Thank you. You are a very good friend. More than that, you are family.”

  “Do not thank me just yet. You may be getting a rather large bill from local ranchers depending upon how long I must wait and the availability of local game.”

  Azerick chuckled, patted her side, and began walking toward what would likely be the toughest meeting he would face. So much depended on Jarvin. He hoped the King still had a tight leash on his nobles and had not lost any of the resolve he gained after his return to the throne. He would need every bit of it to help Azerick badger the nobles into supporting his cause, or rather their cause. Azerick gave a humorless laugh as he thought of how hard he would have to work to convince the fools to save their own lives.

  CHAPTER 8

  Azerick stood surrounded by nobles and people of influence like the recently appointed head of church, Archbishop Howarth, and Headmaster Florent from The Academy. King Jarvin sat at floor level with everyone else instead of seated on his throne upon the dais. Most everyone had expected to have several days to prepare their arguments before Azerick arrived, and they spent the first hour complaining about the suddenness of the meeting.

  “Lord Giles, this tale of gods before gods comes off even more spectacular than your apparent return from the dead,” Lord Malcolm of Brightridge said. “You say you want us to open our coffers to fund a massive preparation for war against these alleged gods who wish to destroy us.”

  “That is precisely what I am saying,” Azerick responded.

  Lord Watkins of Argoth stood. “Why are we entertaining this fairytale when there are real issues to discuss? This man threatened Duchess Paulina, sprung a convicted criminal from The Hall of Inquisition, and absconded with a major artifact! I demand he be tried and dealt with!”

  “After reviewing the charges against Miss Jensen and seeing that she only killed those whose crimes warranted execution, I have pardoned her. Therefore, Lord Giles was within his right to request her release even if the order of actions was a bit out of sorts. As far as the artifact is concerned, I find that the Codex Arcana was the property of Lord Giles and he was within his rights to request its return,” Jarvin calmly explained.

  “But the Duchess…”

  “Is lucky to retain her head, much less her crown, and would do best to remain quiet.”

  “Your Majesty,” Headmaster Florent interjected, “I must argue your position regarding the Codex. By kingdom law, it is illegal for an individual to possess a major magical artifact. The Academy was within its rights to confiscate and secure it. Lord Giles is even now violating the King’s law by possessing it, much less forcing its return.”

  “I named Lord Giles Defender of the Kingdom, and as such, his possession of the Codex is by way of office not individual. So long as I feel he is using it to protect the kingdom, he is violating no laws of mine.”

  “He and his apprentice murdered over a dozen Inquisitors! Surely that is still a crime in this kingdom regardless of position?”

  “Lord Giles and Miss Jensen defended themselves from an unjustified attack. Who gave the order for them to recover the book? Did you, Headmaster?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  “That’s right. Duchess Paulina exceeded her authority by ordering it, and the Inquisitors violated the separation of power by following those orders. Were I so inclined, I would be quite justified in ordering an inquisition of their actions for possible charges of treason. Let this matter of Lord Giles and Miss Jensen
rest, and let us focus on the matter at hand. What has The Academy to say on the matter of these Scions?”

  “My people have spent the past two weeks scouring our archives and have not found mention of any gods before our gods. Our history clearly elaborates upon the dragons as oppressing and enslaving the races for millennia until we rose up as one and cast them off. I have no doubt Lord Giles believes his tale, but the evidence clearly shows it as a falsehood, perhaps created by the trauma of his experiences.”

  “Is Bruneford’s Mill also a falsehood?” Azerick asked. “More than two thousand people died that night. Are their deaths part of my insanity a well?”

  “I understand you and Miss Jensen just happened to be there as well. Am I right?” Headmaster Florent asked.

  “We were, and a good thing too or the town may well have been completely lost.”

  “Does anyone else find it difficult to believe this was a coincidence? So in answer to your question, yes, the destruction at Bruneford’s Mill may very well be part of your insanity. Should my people verify your hand in the destruction, you can be sure there will be a reckoning, with or without the King’s support.”

  “Headmaster, there were bodies of the creatures responsible for the atrocity. If you truly believed I murdered those people, then you would not be sitting idly by,” Azerick said tiredly.

  “We found the bodies of demons. You yourself proclaim you spent these last five years in the abyss as the master of the Fifth Circle. How do we know you did not summon them there?”

  “Because you know summoning demons on that scale is impossible. You should also know those were not demons. Any Chosen of the Church should be able to verify that.”

  “After reading the reports of your actions, and the fact you are in possession of the Codex Arcana, I have no idea of what you are capable. Perhaps you summoned them from some other world.”

  “Lord Giles brings up an interesting point,” King Jarvin said. “What has the Church to say on this matter?”

  Archbishop Howarth, newly appointed head of the Church of Solarian by Jarvin’s urging, stood. “Your Majesty, I ordered a contingent of Solarian’s Light to Bruneford’s Mill. Their report does indicate the creatures were not demonic in origin, but they could not discern from whence they came. Lord Giles’ assertion of being informed of these Scions by the goddess Sharellan does beg a question. If the gods know of these beings, are fearful of their return, and require us mortals to defend against them, why did they reveal all this to him? Why would they not speak to those of us who hold true faith in them?”

  “Perhaps because the gods do not hold faith in you,” Azerick answered. “The kingdom was nearly torn asunder by the arrogance of the Church and many of its most esteemed members. You claim to hold the gods in faith, but you elevated your own desires of power and importance above the teachings of Solarian. That is why he abandoned Bishop Caalendor. The fact you are so arrogant to think the gods should take the time to speak to each of you, or any of you, shows you have not learned your lesson well. You have before you a messenger of one of the gods, yet you choose to ignore him. You, in your hubris, expect, perhaps even demand, the gods come speak to you personally in order to act upon their wishes. You speaking of faith is like a whore speaking of virtue.”

  “Heresy!” the Archbishop shouted, his face coloring in rage.

  “Heresy is speaking out against the will of the gods, not a member of their church. I call you a heretic for placing yourself on level with the gods by claiming heresy and for denying their messenger!”

  “You see how he is! He defies the church, he defies his order, and if you do not agree with him, Jarvin, he will defy you too!”

  The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, mostly shouting down Azerick but some defending his position. Jarvin allowed the esteemed members of his kingdom to voice their opinions and concerns for several minutes before standing and demanding order.

  “It is apparent we will make no real headway today. Let us adjourn and digest what Lord Giles has said and resume a more civilized discourse in the morning. Lord Giles, if you will follow me, I will show you where you can stay during your visit.”

  Everyone stood as Jarvin led Azerick from the room before resuming their noisy debate. Such was their choice, but they could carry on without him until dawn as far as he was concerned. Jarvin’s more immediate interest was in Azerick.

  “When your messenger brought me your letter requesting a meeting and portending our doom, I had assumed something more…mortal. This talk of returning gods with an unbelievably vast army is difficult to comprehend. I sympathize with those having an equally hard time with it.”

  “The Archbishop is right you know. If you resist me, I will defy you. Do you believe what I say?”

  Jarvin stared at the ceiling for a moment as they walked. “When I first heard of your return, I suspected it was for something as significant as it would be unpleasant. Ill-tidings seem to follow you like a shadow.”

  “That they do. Will you command the nobles to fall in line if they refuse to come of their own accord?”

  “Only as a last resort. We must make them believe our position and come to our side on their own, or at least let them think they did. Politics are a difficult and aggravating game.”

  “I am afraid we do not have a great deal of time to play. Even if I can delay the Scions’ escape for a few years, we will need every day we get and a few thousand more to be even remotely prepared.”

  “I looked over the training suggestions you sent as well. They are quite grueling. You are trying to create an entire army with the fighting prowess of my Blackguard.”

  “I understand that, and I know it is unrealistic to expect that kind of mastery on such a scale, but I know we can make our entire army an elite force. We have to, Jarvin. You must believe how crucial it is that we reach that kind of preparedness.”

  The King answered with a weary nod. “Even if I cannot comprehend what you say, I believe your sincerity. Your battle plans show a greater defensive network at the east side of the city with the least amount of defenses at the west where you say they will strike. Should we not fortify more greatly in the direction of the attack?”

  Azerick stopped and locked eyes with Jarvin. “I do not think we can save Brelland, nor Brightridge. Southport and North Haven are lost already. Their fall waits only for the battle to begin. I plan on creating stable gateways between our cities to evacuate all the citizens and the bulk of our fighting forces. Once the Scions attack our combined forces in Brelland and Brightridge, we will battle them in tactical retreat to the east where another set of gateways will see us all to a large valley near the Witchcrag and Great Barrier mountains. It is there we will make our final stand. With any luck, that is where the elves, dwarves, and other races will join us.”

  Jarvin stood with his mouth hanging agape. His lips moved in silent protest as he tried to form the words flying chaotically about in his mind. “Your plan is to allow these gods and their creatures to destroy our land and cities? It is insane! The council will never agree to such a thing.”

  “That is why we will not tell them. It has nothing to do with allowing them anything. It is an acceptance of the inevitable and creating a plan to make it survivable.”

  “These Scions wish to destroy all civilizations, not just ours, so why are we to take the brunt of it? Why can the elves and dwarves not lend their support before the valley?”

  “You must understand this is not like any war we have ever fought or even conceived of. Dragons will swoop from the skies, spewing fire and unleashing destructive magic. The Scions have ships capable of flying through the air. Ravagers move more like cavalry than infantry, but with more destructive power. This is not some slow army, forced to move at a crawl to keep with their supply trains. These fights are going to be swift and fierce. Only moving our people through these portals will allow us to keep from being washed away like a piece of flotsam in a tempest.

  “We do not know when
they will strike. We will have little or no warning and, once they do attack, they will engage us in battle within days or even hours. How long would the people tolerate several foreign hosts squatting on their land waiting for an enemy to come? Do not forget, the Scions will enslave all the races, not just those we deem tolerable. I do not know what the gods have in store for the goblins, ogres, orcs, and other races, but it is unlikely they would be pleasant guests if invited.”

  “I would have to agree with you. Even if we win, my kingdom will be in ruins.”

  “There is no winning this war, Jarvin, only surviving. Cities can be rebuilt and populations restored, but only if we survive.”

  “You paint a truly bleak portrait. Hopefully, we can make the lords see the picture beyond the canvas.” Jarvin stopped before a door. “I thought you might like this room. It is simple, but away from most of the castle traffic.”

  “There is still time left in the day and I would rather not squander it. Are those adventurers you hired to recover Dundalor’s armor still around?”

  Jarvin scratched his beard. “I believe so. I have not had anything official for them to do since I sent them after the necromancer. I will send some runners and have them located if they are still about.”

  “Thank you.”

  ***

  “Someone told me you were looking for me?”

  Azerick looked up from the small desk and saw Maude leaning casually against the doorframe of his room. She looked much the same as she did the last time he had seen her, except for perhaps a few more lines etching her face. She was wearing a set of leathers in place of her usual full plate armor, but still carried her huge sword strapped across her back.

  Azerick stood, eager to get this finished. “Actually, I need to speak with Tarth, but since he is prone to wandering off and can be difficult to find, they sent for you in hopes you might know where to locate him.”

  “Still the flatterer I see.” Maude grinned, not the least bit insulted. “Yeah, I probably know where he is.” She turned and walked out, not bothering to see if Azerick followed. Azerick jogged out of his room to catch up. “I see you’ve moved up in the world, Lord Giles.”