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

by Brock Deskins

  Elves in shining chain and plate armor shoved through the fleeing masses of civilians and engaged the monsters with steel and bow. The number of demons spewing forth began overwhelming the elven defenders and was now rampaging through the pristine streets of the city, killing and destroying with glee.

  Several demons began concentrating their attacks on the wizards desperately trying to close the rift. Half a dozen grackin and belphor demons launched themselves at Tarth, but he was too focused on preventing the rift from opening any further to do anything about it. Lahilonah interposed her body between Tarth and the demons, hurling curses, fire, and lightning with equal fury. Her strength was not remarkable, but she compensated with sheer ferociousness.

  The elf maiden pushed a host of creatures back toward the rift with her magic, but she was tiring quickly. Lahilonah looked around as she realized she was too close to the rift and needed to get back to Tarth, but she could not give up her assault or the demons would leap upon her and tear her to pieces.

  Lahilonah unleashed a final wave of force, shoving the demons back and made to race toward the minor refuge of her fellows. Just as she turned, a black, spectral hand slithered out of the rift and wrapped around her slender waist. Her eyes met Tarth’s for just a moment before it pulled her into the dimensional gaping maw.

  Tarth’s focus broke as he watched his beloved pulled into the rift. He looked at the gash in the air oozing demons and made a decision. Grabbing the Codex, he strode purposefully toward the rift.

  “Tarthanalis, what are you doing?” one of his fellow wizards called out.

  Tarth cut several demons down with a slashing beam of power. “We cannot close it from here. I must go through and close it from the other side.”

  “No! We cannot lose you!”

  Tarth looked at the rift. “I am already lost.”

  The elf sent a pair of enormous blasts into the rift, clearing away the demons clawing to get out. Tarth then floated up into the rent in the air and vanished. Azerick’s world immediately disintegrated and he found himself looking over a very familiar landscape.

  Not far away, Azerick spotted a score of demons toying with Lahilonah like cats playing with a mouse before devouring it. The elf struck out with her magic, but she was weak and her spells feeble. Tarth stepped through the rift and choked back a cry as saw the demons mocking and taunting his love. A bluish-white curtain of arcane energy surrounded Lahilonah and burst outward, destroying her tormentors.

  “Lahilonah, run through the rift!” Tarth shouted.

  “Come with me! There is something else here, something terrible!” Lahilonah pleaded.

  “I will be right behind you, but first I must break whatever has a hold of this.”

  Tears poured down Lahilonah’s face as she saw Tarth’s lie for what it was. “I love you!”

  “And I you. Please, get away from this place. Our people need you.”

  Lahilonah ran for the rift. From a cleft in the ground, the shadowy arm streaked after her, unwilling to relinquish its plaything. Tarth severed the spectral appendage with a lance of power and breathed a sigh of relief when Lahilonah leapt through the rift. He turned his eyes back to the dark fissure as a pair of black hands sprouted from a cleft in the ground and heaved a huge demonic form into the open.

  “You took away my toy, elf. No matter; I shall play with you for an eternity,” Klaraxis taunted sadistically.

  Tarth did not hesitate. He struck out with a bolt of power laced with Guardian magic. Azerick detected the strange power in the spell, although it was significantly diluted compared to what Lissandra, or even Raijaun, had produced.

  The attack and its power took Klaraxis by surprise. The demon lord howled in pain and outrage as he tumbled across the barren landscape, kicking up large clouds of dust in his wake. Tarth turned to the Codex and spoke to it. The book flipped open and he intensely studied the pages.

  Klaraxis roared to his feet and charged like a bull, horns down even as he summoned his abyssal power to crush the impudent elf. Tarth opened a gate and stepped through just as Klaraxis unleashed his spell and charged through the space in which he had been standing a moment before. The demon spun around in search of the elf. A massive crack opened under his feet and he pumped his wings to avoid falling in. Before he was able to get more than a few feet in the air, a pair of gigantic stone hands reached up, grabbed him by the ankles, and pulled him into the open ground.

  The cleft slammed shut with finality and Tarth began working magic to close the rift. With Klaraxis distracted and no longer working to keep it open, Tarth was able to mend the tear between realities. He found relief knowing his people were safe despite having just doomed himself. Just as Tarth closed the rift, the ground exploded like a volcano, sending rock and dust high into the air. Klaraxis stepped from the cloud as a rain of stone pelted the ground.

  “You surprised me, elf, but no more. You will pay for your effrontery in the most horrible manner of my devising.”

  Azerick watched the epic battle unfold, but now familiar with the elf’s power, Klaraxis quickly gained the upper hand. Here in his home realm, Tarth was outmatched and fell to the powerful demon lord. Azerick looked on as time flew past; witnessing the tortures Klaraxis inflicted upon the captive elf for what must have been decades. Just as Azerick thought he could not bear to witness any more, the abyssal landscape vanished and he found himself back in Tarth’s quaint bedroom.

  “Now you understand what your demon did to me.” Azerick jumped as Tarth’s voice sounded from behind him. “She loved me with all her heart. Not because of my power or influence, but because I was me. When I came back, shattered and lost, I was no longer that person. She still loved me, or tried to, but I could not bear to be near my people, and I was ashamed for it. I was ashamed for being a coward. I should have refused them when they posed this insane solution, but I could not. I was afraid they would resent me for not trying. My vanity and desire to be loved by all nearly destroyed my people.

  “Do you know the worst torment? It was not the abuses inflicted upon my body, but the fear remaining in my heart and mind. For decades after I returned, I was certain I was still Klaraxis’ prisoner and, at any moment, he would tear away the illusion of my freedom and renew my torture. When I saw you, all those fears returned. I thought you were here to take me back.”

  “I am sorry, Tarth, I had no idea, but Klaraxis is not in control of me.”

  Tarth crossed the room, sat at the small desk, and began brushing his hair in the mirror. “I understand that now. Now that you are here, I see you for what you are and understand the nature of your shared existence, although not how it came to be. I suppose it is not important.”

  “Tarth, what is this place?” Azerick asked as he looked around the room.

  “It is the last bastion of my sanity. Sad, is it not? A mind once capable of delving into the furthest reaches of the cosmos now relegated to this paltry, speck of an existence. Something weighs heavy on your mind. What is it you came here for?”

  “Do you know of the Scions?”

  Tarth stopped brushing his hair and looked grim. “I do.”

  “They are returning. I am trying to maintain the barrier trapping them in their prison, but it is only a matter of time before it falls.”

  “The Guardians?”

  “They are all gone. The last one gave her life to pull me from the abyss and used the last of her strength to reinforce the barrier. She was the same one who eventually saved you. She was your grandmother, Tarth.”

  “My grandmother,” the elf whispered. “I never knew from where I came or who my parents were. It explains many things. Thank you. You have been in possession of The Codex Arcana. I can sense its influence upon you. I wondered if it would ever leave the abyss after Klaraxis took hold of it.”

  “A creature of the Scions’ creation was able to enter the abyss and somehow took it away. I was a slave to it, but I escaped with the Codex.”

  I was distracted when that vile
creature snuck into my citadel and stole my property. His minions I captured suffered greatly for his audacity.

  “The Codex speaks to you?”

  “My apprentice as well.”

  Tarth smiled and looked into the distance. “Things must be truly desperate if the gods and Codex have selected two masters of the book. What is it you need of an insane old elf?”

  “We need you and your people if we are to have a chance of defeating the Scions. Can you tell your people of their return and ask them to stand with us?”

  “It is hard for me to return. There are so many memories and so much pain, but you are right. The elves and races must fight together again.”

  “I need one other thing from you if you will indulge me.”

  “What is it?”

  “My people have forgotten about the Scions. You remember. Can you speak to them and try to help me convince them of the danger they pose?”

  “I will speak, but I cannot make them listen.”

  Azerick looked around the room, at the tiny sanctuary in Tarth’s mind. “Will you remember what we talked about here? Will you be able to deliver my message to your people?”

  Tarth grinned mischievously. “You refer to my…instability? I can manage. There is a slight exaggeration on my part in that regard. I find people do not ask much and expect even less from me that way. Besides, it aggravates the dwarf to no end, and that is one of my greatest amusements in life. His face turns so many hues and his invectives are quite creative.” Azerick shared the odd elf’s amusement. “I suppose we should be going. It sounds as though you have more important matters to attend to than sitting within the mad mind of a broken elf.”

  “It has been interesting and informative.”

  Azerick felt a gentle push and the tiny room receded until he could no longer see it. His eyes fluttered open and he was once again lying in the shattered orchard. He turned his head and saw Tarth waking as well. Tarth stood and looked at the devastation his magic had wrought.

  “Tarth, are you all right?” Maude asked.

  “I am fine, dear, but the gardeners are going to be terribly upset.”

  Borik looked almost at the point of tears. “This is terrible.”

  “Borik, I did not think you appreciated the garden that much,” Tarth said.

  “To the abyss with garden! I dropped my sandwich in one of these cursed crevasses you made, you moron! You killed my lunch and almost killed us!”

  “Your lunch needed killed, you rotund ruffian,” Tarth snapped back. “You are getting fat.”

  Borik’s face turned scarlet and his nostrils flared. “I am not fat! I just…,” Borik held his belly in his hands. “You’re right; I have really let myself go. Too much high-living in the castle I guess.”

  “You should have no trouble walking it off on our way to my homeland.”

  “Your homeland?” Borik exclaimed. “That’s like a million miles through the coldest, most beer freezingest place on the planet!” Borik sighed heavily. “I’m going to need to make another sandwich before we go.”

  “I’m sure your hot breath will keep your disgusting beer in a liquid form,” Tarth retorted.

  “It better!” Borik snapped and crossed his arms.

  ***

  “Lords and Ladies, I understand the difficulty you have believing the things I have told you and your reluctance in supporting my recommendations,” Azerick told the assembly. He decided today he would start off using tact. There was always time to be a thug later. “Since I cannot convince you of the veracity of my news, I have brought to you a representative of the elven nation. The elves were directly involved with the battle against the Scions, and are a much longer lived race than us. Tarthanalis Moonglow is venerable even by their standards. The elves have not forgotten the Scions. Tarth, would you please tell them what you know?”

  Tarth stood and smiled at the crowd. “Hello. I know black should not be worn with brown, nor should you mix plaid with stripes. Your shoes should match your belt and dwarves do not go with anything, except maybe rocks.”

  Azerick rolled his eyes at the elf’s antics. “Tarth, tell them what you know of the Scions.”

  “Oh, of course. The dwarves worked with the human wizards to create the five suits of armor that enabled them to fight the dragons and other mundane minions while the elves and their Guardians fought the Scions. They fought to a standstill and the Scions eventually agreed to banishment, where they have been for the past two thousand years. Now they are coming back, and I have to go tell my people so we can prepare. I would suggest you do the same.”

  The representative from Argoth stood. “Lord Giles, I have seen this elf and his cohorts around the castle these last few years. They were tried for assault and burglary and pressed into service by the King. Tarthanalis has routinely displayed odd behavior, and their conduct flies in the face of credibility.”

  “Your shirt flies in the face of credibility,” Tarth replied with a sniff of disdain.

  Azerick laid a hand a hand on Tarth’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into his chair. “Thank you for being entirely unhelpful, Tarth.”

  Clarity shown in the elf’s eyes as he responded, “Nothing I was going to say would convince them, so why not mock them for the fools they are?”

  Azerick nodded to Tarth and took over the debate. “I am beginning to think you would argue with the gods themselves if they came. It is not a case of credibility, but of your refusal to believe no matter the evidence at hand.”

  “What evidence, a strange attack on a far away town and the word of a disturbed elf?”

  Klaraxis gently stoked the anger burning in Azerick’s gut. “How deep can your greed go? You all spent fortunes continuing the war with Sumara for nothing more than the chance at reclaiming your losses with the wealth of copper and silver within their hills, but you cinch your purses tightly closed when asked to save your own miserable lives! What good is your gold when you and your heirs and everyone else are dead?”

  “You answer your own question, Lord Giles. The war with Sumara was an investment that would have reaped profit had Jarvin not ended it prematurely.”

  “Are your lives not an investment? Is there no profit in life? If it were just you, I would agree and say no, but it is not just your lives but the lives of everyone in our kingdom and beyond.” Azerick turned to Jarvin. “Your Majesty, you named me Protector of the Kingdom. You said it was more than a ceremonial title, that it came with duties.”

  The King nodded. “It does.”

  “Then I demand you allow me to do what I must to fulfill that duty since your nobles are fools and too stupid to save their own lives.”

  Lord Preston of Brightridge shot to his feet, his voice trembling with indignity. “You dare make demands of the King? You overreach yourself, sir!”

  “I have not yet begun to overreach myself, and will reach as far as I must to protect the people of this kingdom.”

  “You would defy the King?”

  “I would fulfill my duty to the Kingdom, even if it means defying the King.”

  “You would usurp the King! You speak the words of a traitor!”

  “I speak the words of a patriot! You who would ignore impending doom on the chance you would lose coin are the traitors.”

  “We are loyal to the King!”

  “What good is a king if we lose the kingdom? What is a kingdom without its people? You put yourselves at the top of the pedestal and forget that it is the people who make up the base. Without the base, the entire thing tumbles down, and you with it.”

  “Perhaps we need more time to consider this,” the mayor of Groveswood suggested. “Should an invasion occur, we can send our soldiers and wizards to intercept it.”

  Azerick shook his head. “You, like nearly everyone else, do not understand the enemy we face. If we wait for them to come, it will be too late. They will flood our coastal cities within days. Brelland and Brightridge will be under siege within a week and fall almost immedia
tely afterward.”

  “Brelland’s walls are fifty feet high!” someone exclaimed.

  “And the Scions will pile the bodies of their troops up sixty feet and leap down upon your heads!” Azerick shouted back.

  “I still say we should take time to consider the reality of the threat and what measures to take in the interim, as well as how to respond to an invasion if it should occur.”

  “There is no time,” Azerick stressed through his clamped jaw.

  “There is even less evidence,” the nobleman countered.

  “What manner of evidence must you have before you will heed what I say? Must your coins and manors be covered in the blood of your people and families before you act? If that is the case, it can be arranged!”

  “He threatens us all with murder!” someone shouted above the renewed din.

  “I threaten nothing, but promise everything!”

  Jarvin stood and banged his mug on the table. “We have all heard what Lord Giles has come here to say, and we have all said our peace. It is time to end all this barking and decide a course of action. Whatever we decide will affect us all, especially if Lord Giles is right and we choose to ignore his warning. I created this council because I do not believe in the ultimate wisdom of one man, even if he is King. As Azerick said, the kingdom is more than just the King. Let each representative for their duchy speak their decision.”

  Lord Preston was eager and the first to speak. “Argoth finds the claims of Lord Giles to be preposterous and votes to avoid taking unnecessary and costly actions.”

  Lord Blackburn stood and sniffed contemptuously toward Lord Preston. “North Haven places its trust in her first son and elects for full militarization and conscription.”

  “Southport agrees with Argoth,” Lady Palmer voted. “Such an expense and massive disruption in trade and production is unwarranted. We should wait and see what comes to allow us to make an intelligent and measured decision.”

  “If it pleases Your Majesty, Brightridge abstains,” Lord Fowler said, eliciting a few insulting murmurs.