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

by Brock Deskins

  “I don’t know when Azerick is going to be back. I don’t think even he knows when he will be back.” Thomas sighed. “I won’t force him to rest, and I won’t abuse the tenants of my faith or conscience, but I can give you time. How much will depend on Daebian’s own powers of recovery.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.”

  “All right, let’s get to the infirmary.”

  Peck had no intention of being around when they brought Daebian in and returned to his horses. Brother Thomas had just entered the infirmary and made sure there was a bed with fresh sheets and blankets ready when Miranda burst in just a few steps ahead of Rusty and Alex who were carrying Daebian between them.

  “Thomas, thank the gods you are here!” Miranda exclaimed as she ushered the men to lay her son on the bed.

  “Thank the gods, sure, why not?” Thomas muttered.

  “He took a fall from his horse today,” Rusty explained. “He’s been lying unconscious for several hours.”

  Thomas held his hands palms down with his fingers extended above Daebian’s body and began chanting a soft prayer. He guided his hands up and down the boy’s form, paying particular attention to his head. Thomas dropped his hands to his sides and spoke to Miranda.

  “He broke three ribs and his left arm. The greatest concern is obviously his head injury. It is very severe.”

  “Can you help him?” Miranda begged.

  “Of course, but head injuries like this can be problematic. It is not a good idea to try and heal it all at once. Trying to heal it too quickly can cause damage to the brain, so it is best to do it slowly and let him wake up on his own.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “It’s impossible to say. Much will depend on his natural rate of recovery. Even without his unique physiology, it is not possible to make a realistic estimate.”

  “Please, do what you can.”

  Thomas raised his hands and began chanting once more. Healing energies radiated from his hands like static electricity and gave off a feint white nimbus of light. The bones knitted almost instantly, but the injury to Daebian’s brain was far from simple. The gods rarely made things easy for their followers, even their cherished Chosen. Thomas sensed the bruising and bleeding inside Daebian’s head and used his mystical energy to revive the damaged tissue and stitch the tiny veins and capillaries back together.

  “I have done as much as I think should be done for now. I will tend to him each day until he is better. With any luck, he wake and be on his feet again in a week or so.”

  Miranda embraced the priest. “Thank you, Thomas.”

  Daebian floated in a black sea of nothingness, slowly bobbing on gentle waves of oblivion. It was soothing and warm like the soft hands of a loving mother cradling her baby. That must be it. He was back in the womb, protected from the painful outside world. A pale light glowed far away in the starless sky and he became aware.

  “Where am I?”

  Trapped within the confines of your mind, much like I am with your father.

  “Why aren’t you trying to dominate me, take control of my body?”

  Because I cannot. I still exist within your father. A fragment of my essence exists within the gem set in your blade. Neither of them exists within you. I speak to you now only through our shared connection with the soul stone.

  “How did I get here? What happened?”

  The answer lies within you.

  Daebian began fitting the shattered pieces of his memory together. Bit by bit they began to create a mosaic inside his mind. The mosaic animated and he saw the forest, Newmoon racing along the trail, leaping over the log. The horse suddenly bucked and twisted. Daebian was flying once more. The horse had startled and thrown him. On instinct, he closed his eyes and the mosaic vanished. Hoof beats thundered in his ears. The gently rocking became stronger, no longer the slow rise and fall of a low swells but the hurried gait of a galloping horse. For a brief second, all was silent except for the wind rushing past his ears as Newmoon leapt.

  A pine thrush called out. Newmoon bucked and twisted and Daebian went flying. No. He felt his body stop then rush backward. His legs tightened against the saddle again. Stop. Forward. Newmoon leapt, the bird tweeted loudly, and he was airborne. Back, leap, trill, fall. Back, trill, fall. Back, trill. Trill. The call was wrong. Near the end, the whistle rose in pitch and held, too high, too long.

  “Gloom!” Daebian called out into the blackness. “I need your eyes!”

  Daebian could not see Gloom, but he felt his presence. The forest appeared once more, now looking more like a fine painting than a tiled mosaic. He was higher and saw the world with amazingly sharp contrast even compared to his normal acute vision, displaying more shades of color than he thought existed. He saw himself below; hugging the horse’s broad back as he galloped along the trail. Newmoon jumped, the pine thrush trilled off-key, Daebian flew from the horse’s back and landed several yards away down the short ravine.

  A shadow moved within the bushes. Daebian looked intently, but even Gloom’s eyes failed to see what had moved. He swooped lower and studied the ground. There in a soft patch of soil was half of a print—a wolf print. Daebian had his culprit. No, culprits, and he did not mean Ghost. Wolf did not have the time, nor did he think the inclination, to train the horse to react to the modified bird call.

  “It would seem Peck has more spine and wits than I gave him credit for.”

  You will recover from this. When you do, you must destroy him and the half breed!

  “I could do that. Or I could not.”

  Will you allow your foolish sentiments to keep you from retaliating against those who just tried to kill you? Klaraxis demanded, furious at the boy.

  “It has nothing to do with sentiment, demon. It is about you understanding that you will not now, nor will you ever, dictate my actions. I do what I want, when I want, and why I want. Why I might choose to let them live is not for you to question. Their time is coming, but it must not be hastened. All things happen for a reason.”

  Bah, you sound like a priest!

  “Or a god.”

  Klaraxis laughed. You are certainly ambitious, but you are no god. However, I may know of a way to become one.

  “Become a god?”

  Perhaps, or at least be godlike. I know of an item that can steal the soul from any creature, man or god. You could slay a god, even your father.

  “The sweet words of a demon, the prince of lies.”

  I am being true to you. I will not tell you it will be easy. In fact, it will be quite perilous to attain the weapon. You also cannot do it on your own.

  “What makes acquiring this weapon so dangerous? Is it guarded by a dragon or some such?”

  Worse; by the most powerful demon lord in all of the abyss. The soul blade is in my citadel within the Fifth Circle.

  “It sounds a bit out of reach to me.”

  To you, most definitely, but perhaps not for your brother.

  “My brother would never help me, especially with something like that. He is too much his father’s son, too kind-hearted.”

  Perhaps you will find a way to use that softness to your advantage.

  “Most definitely.”

  ***

  “Is the gate clear?” Azerick asked Roger through speaking gem.

  Roger double checked both sides of the gate and saw that the guards were doing a good job of blocking traffic. “It’s all clear.”

  Azerick fed arcane power into the massive stone pillars now framing one of the primary gates in Brelland. A shimmering screen appeared within the massive portal and resolved to show a crowd of spectators being held in check by a squad of City Watch. Azerick nodded to a shepherd who began herding two dozen sheep through the portal.

  This was the last of three magical gates connecting Brelland and North Haven. On instinct, Azerick had decided at the last minute to pay a sheep rancher to move some of his herd through the portal. That decision had saved his life. These gates were much larger and mo
re complex than the one he made outside Southport and had far less margin for error. The number of magical strands connecting the two gates increased by a multitude of factors. The first results had been unpleasant for several unfortunate sheep.

  “I count twenty-four, Azerick,” Roger reported a moment later.

  “Finally! Okay, send them back through.”

  Azerick was able to see the sheep milling about in North Haven until a couple watchmen prodded them back through using the hafts of their spears. He counted sheep until their numbers reached twenty-four and breathed another sigh of relief. All three gates were up and functioning as best was possible.

  “Good job, son. I was starting to doubt my theory for a while there.”

  “I knew we could get it right, I was just not certain if it would be before the barrier fell and the Scions crushed us all,” Raijaun replied.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Not well. I used some combined magic to make the connections. I am tired and sore now.”

  Azerick laid a hand on Raijaun’s shoulder. “We are done now. Let’s go home and get some rest.”

  Raijaun made sure his hood was pulled up and his face hidden as best he could before following Azerick through the gate. They discovered a crowd with a mixed reactions waiting on the other side. A few people looked amazed and interested, but most wore looks of fear and distrust. Even for the uninitiated, this was obviously a major magical undertaking, and it was now set in the middle of the city.

  Seeing that neither the sheep nor Azerick was blended into an unrecognizable mass, the engineers decided to put their faith in their work and passed through the portal as well. A two-week-long caravan back to North Haven was an unattractive proposition and helped to alleviate their fear. It was also important for the common folk to see non wizards passing through the gates as well.

  Eager to get home, Azerick made the trip in minutes by opening two subsequent portals. His second rift deposited him just in from of the gates of the school. As much as he wanted to go straight to his lab, gating inside a building was tricky business.

  Azerick barely made it through the gates when Miranda came running toward him. “Azerick, thank the gods you are home. Daebian has been hurt.”

  Azerick returned her embrace. “Hurt? Hurt how?”

  “He fell from his horse and injured his head. He has been unconscious for nearly a week and I am so worried.”

  “What has Brother Thomas said?” Azerick asked as Miranda pulled him to the infirmary.

  “Brother Thomas said it was best to take it slow. He has let him sleep and kept his healing sessions mild.”

  Azerick nodded. “That makes sense. Forcing the brain to heal too rapidly is like casting a broken arm without setting the bone.”

  Miranda and Azerick found Brother Thomas seated next to Daebian’s bed. The priest stood as they entered. Azerick stepped next to the bed and laid a gentle hand on his son’s cheek.

  “How is he, Thomas?”

  “He is doing very well. He will probably wake tomorrow if he is ready.”

  “Is there any permanent damage?”

  “None I can detect. He should make a full recovery.”

  “That is good news. Please send someone for me before you wake him.”

  Miranda grabbed Azerick’s elbow as he turned to leave. “Where are you going?”

  “I have been gone nearly a month. I need to check the barrier. I have allowed the Scions free reign for too long.”

  “Your son is lying in a hospital bed! You can’t spend some time with him even now?” Miranda demanded.

  “Miranda, he is unconscious. He has no knowledge of my presence,” Gloom squawked loudly from his perch on the window sill, “unless the bird tells him,” Azerick quickly amended. “He does not know, nor could he care in his present state, if I were here for five minutes or five hours. The Scions, on the other hand, could create another breech any minute and kill hundreds, maybe thousands of sons and daughters.”

  “Maybe they will, but right now this is your son lying in this bed.”

  “Brother Thomas said he will be fine. He will wake up in the morning, and I will be here.”

  “Fine, just go. I will not argue with you anymore about the merits of parenting. If you suddenly decide you need me, I will be here with my son!”

  “I am sure your continual vigilance has worked as great a miracle as Brother Thomas’ healing,” Azerick snapped back and stormed out.

  “You seemed troubled, false Guardian. Give yourself to us. We shall end your misery.”

  Azerick ignored the Scions’ constant harassment and let his mind fly along the barrier. Several places showed signs of weakening, but only one was critical. It would likely have taken the Scions several more days to have breached it, but he could not have known that. It was just as likely that its fall was imminent.

  Keep telling yourself that, human. You know the truth.

  “You would not know truth if it bit off your big, black arse,” Azerick snapped at Klaraxis. He was in no mood to listen to the demon.

  I know more truth than your kind could ever admit. I know my lies for what they are. You and your kind are so adept at falsehood you even believe your own lies. Admit it, the reason you did not stay with your son is because you cannot stand to be around him.

  “I love my son, but I do not expect you to understand such a concept.”

  I may not know love beyond myself, but I do know hate. You hate Daebian!

  “I do not hate my son!”

  Then why do you avoid him? Why do you feel so uncomfortable in his presence? You cannot hide your feelings from me, human. We are of the same mind and body. I see what you see, feel what you feel. We are one.

  “I just don’t have the time. Daebian’s interests and abilities run counter to my responsibilities. It has nothing to do with me hating him.”

  I think you fear him. We hate that which we fear.

  “I do not fear my son.”

  You should.

  Azerick sat at his small desk inside his laboratory and raised his weary head from his hands when a soft knock sounded at the door. “Enter.”

  “Azerick, can I talk to you?” Peck asked nervously.

  Azerick smiled, always happy to see the guileless young stableman. “Of course you can, peck. What can I do for you?”

  Peck walked carefully across the room, his eyes shifting about nervously as if he expected demons or dragons to leap from the shadows and devour him. He set a small bag on Azerick’s desk with a metallic clink.

  “What is this?”

  “It is almost everything you have paid me over the years. I want to buy the horses,” Peck said and set his chin resolutely. “I know it is probably not enough, but you can keep taking whatever you want out of my pay until you feel the debt is paid or we’re all dead and it won’t matter anyway.”

  The amount in the purse was substantial. Peck had few desires and virtually no expenses. There was enough there to buy a decent home and live modestly for several years.

  “Why do you want to buy the horses?”

  “I just need to have more control over them. I have to be able to decide what is best for them and who does what with them.”

  “Has there been a problem? Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “I just need to buy the horses. Will you sell them to me?”

  Azerick looked at the sack of coins on the desk. “Peck, you understand I need those horses and why.”

  “I do. I understand their duty, and I will make sure they do it. That is why I need to have more control, so I know they are ready to perform at any time.”

  Azerick grabbed the bag and slid it closer to him. “All right, the horses are yours. Since the majority of their training and conditioning was done by you, I will sell them to you at a standard rate under the condition that they are available to the school to perform their role no matter how dangerous it may be.”

  Peck nodded his agreement. “Thank you.”
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  “Peck, you know you can come to me if you have any kind of trouble,” Azerick said softly as Peck turned to leave.

  “I know. I got this.”

  Azerick heaved a sigh as yet another issue arose that he could apparently do nothing about. He flipped idly through the Codex Arcana, looking for and finding nothing in particular. He could have found a much more productive use for his time like apologizing to Miranda or sitting next to his son’s hospital bed, but his mind was too jumbled to put thought into action.

  He kept thinking of his strange meeting with Peck. Something had obviously happened that upset him greatly and made him fear for the safety of his horses. It was not hard to deduce that it also had something to do with Daebian. He could ask Daebian about it when he woke, but Azerick knew his son would not talk to him, and it was obvious Peck wanted to resolve this on his own. Peck was a man now, or close enough to it, and Azerick respected him enough to let him make his own decisions.

  Writing out what he learned with the creation of his gates was time consuming, but it provided the distraction he needed. It was important to get this information to The Academy so they could begin working on their gates. Azerick wondered what new trouble the knock at his door heralded this time. A young woman, one of Brother Thomas’ acolytes, entered when he beckoned her inside.

  “Lord Giles, Brother Thomas wished me to inform you he is ready to wake Daebian.”

  “Thank you. I will be there momentarily.”

  The acolyte bowed slightly and disappeared back up the stairs. Azerick sat at his desk pondering the best course of action. Miranda would be there, and he doubted her anger at him had diminished much, but that was unavoidable. Not going was not an option. Should he confront Daebian about Peck? Any intervention would likely only make it worse for Peck if they did have an issue and create one if they did not. Azerick did not really know his son, but he had a good idea of his type. Daebian was naturally defiant and would instinctively do the opposite of just about anything Azerick said.