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

by Brock Deskins

  “You push them too hard!”

  “I cannot push them hard enough! Their bodies are too frail for me to push them as hard as I must! I can only push them as hard I can and pray it is enough, pray that those I called upon for help come and have been preparing just as hard, or we are all lost.”

  “I will not do this anymore,” Rusty seethed. “I will not let you do this anymore!”

  “You will not let me?”

  “I will not let you! I will not stand by and watch you kill my students for a cause or an enemy we don’t even know exists outside your own head!”

  “You deny their existence? After all these years, you doubt my integrity? Why would I make this up and put myself and everyone else through all of this if the threat were not every bit as real as I have said?”

  “Azerick, I will never doubt your integrity, but I do doubt your perception. You literally went through hell, and I cannot imagine what an experience like that would do someone, even someone as strong as you. I fear you have brought some of it back with you.”

  “Denying the threat the Scions pose is the same as siding with them. Denial and ignorance of their existence has been the most effective blade they wielded against us, and now you of all people gladly pick it up and hold it to our throats. You are right, I have made a grave mistake, and that mistake was sheltering all of you from the Scions.” Azerick grabbed a wad of Rusty’s shirt. “If you need to see the face of our enemy to believe, then I will show you!”

  Azerick tore open a gate with all his fury and pulled Rusty toward it. Rusty struggled against Azerick’s grip, but it was as useless as a fly struggling against the clutches of a spider.

  “Azerick, let him go!” Allister demanded.

  “No! He demands proof, and I will give it to him! If any of you feel the need to look upon our enemy in order to put some steel in your spine, then follow us.”

  Azerick pulled Rusty through the portal and emerged inside his laboratory. He stepped over the ruins of his desk, destroyed when his gate bisected it, and threw Rusty to the floor with a flick of his wrist. Allister and Aggie followed the pair through the gate as much to witness what was to happen as to try and protect Rusty from Azerick’s mounting anger.

  Azerick did not spare anyone a glance. He crossed to the black orb mounted on a pedestal in the center of the room. Slapping his hands upon its cool, smooth surface, Azerick channeled his power into it, casting the room into darkness. A shimmering glow appeared, stretching from horizon to horizon and into the sky as far as the eye could see. Beyond it laid an army so vast one could not identify the far ranks or the end files. Hovering above it like a tight cluster of icicles was a massive crystalline tower surrounded by flying ships teaming with monstrous crews.

  “Have you brought us tribute, false Guardian?”

  Lacking Azerick’s ability to filter the Scions oppressive thoughts, their words crushed Rusty, Allister, and Aggie to floor and made them writhe in agony. It was like a horse stepping on their heads while someone blew a deafening horn into their ears with enough force to make them bleed.

  “I want you to tell them exactly what you are; show them what you will do when you break free!”

  “You have brought us a treat. It would be our pleasure.”

  “Behold your fate, humans, and know the face of terror.”

  The landscape changed in the eyes of the three wizards and became the smoking ruins of a city. The bodies of the inhabitants, young and old, lay scattered in the streets and were being picked over by carrion birds and other scavengers. The city changed but the scene did not. Everywhere was nothing but destruction and death. Rusty’s eyes were drawn to the bodies of a woman cradling two young children. He barely recognized them as Colleen and his twins. It was obvious someone, or something, had paid special attention in their deaths.

  “Yes, little wizard, those who delve into the realm of the gods, and their entire bloodline, shall not get a swift death.”

  “We sense your terror and pain. We see in your mind your futile attempts at resistance and it amuses us.”

  “Continue your training; continue your existence of suffrage. It will make your breaking that much more satisfying and complete. Those few we allow to serve us shall know that they failed at the height of their power and will never find the courage to resist us again. Never will they again seek to raise themselves from the muck where they belong.”

  Feeling his point made, Azerick shielded the minds of his friends as best he could. The wizards lay on the ground, lungs heaving as they desperately tried to take back control of their minds.

  “Do you see now why I do what I do? Do you believe, or do you still think this is a construct of my own mind?”

  Rusty pushed himself to his hands and knees and fell back down, his trembling limbs unable to support him. “I—I see. I believe. Please, take us from this hell!”

  The prison world faded and they were back in the summoning chamber. Azerick hated to inflict that kind of torture on his friends, but their strength and leadership was more important than their relationship. He wanted their friendship and love, but needed their cooperation. There were no words to mend the damage, so he left them to recover their strength, wishing there was a way to recover their minds and relationship.

  CHAPTER 13

  Azerick saw little of Rusty over the next few weeks. In fact, most of his people seemed to be avoiding him. It could have been his imagination. It was hard to tell since he spent most of his time beneath the tower. On the occasions he did see Rusty, his friend looked withdrawn, exhausted, and almost always drunk, or close to it. Azerick had been pouring over his training guidelines and the instructors’ reports, desperate to resolve the recurring defeats caused by the dragons’ involvement in any given battle. He finally conceded it was not something he could solve by himself.

  “We keep running into the same problem,” Azerick explained to his core of wizards and officers. “Our army can stand against several times their number in ravagers, at least until the mages become exhausted. When we fight as a cohesive team with The Academy, we should have more in the way of relief forces. Our immediate problem is the minute we throw dragons into the mix, and we can be almost certain they will make an appearance, they quickly overwhelm our mages. The number of mages it takes to deal with the dragons leaves us vulnerable. We need to find a way to impede the ravagers’ assault enough to keep the infantry from being overwhelmed while the bulk of the mages deal with the aerial threat. That includes those flying ships of theirs. The gods only know what kind of chaos those things bring to the table.”

  “What about pit traps, pickets, trenches, or other barriers?” Alex suggested.

  Azerick shook his head. “The ravagers are too strong and agile. They could leap over anything we could reasonably field, and once past the obstacles they would provide little hindrance.”

  “Magical traps throughout the battlefield,” Rusty supplied. “We can place a lot of trap wards since we are pretty certain where they will come from. We could create hundreds of them in little time if we make them just powerful enough to maim instead of expending the time and energy to destroy them outright.”

  “That’s an excellent idea and we’ll certainly do that, but once tripped it is gone and does not solve the problem. What we need is a battalion of giants!” Azerick joked. “Unfortunately, I have only seen one of those in my life, and he was not exactly an impressive specimen.”

  Roger scratched his head vigorously as if to shake loose a stuck idea. “What if we made some giants?”

  “Make a giant?”

  “Yeah, like the golem you made a while back to protect Ellyssa when she got into trouble. Wolf told her and she told me that it had given several of those Sumaran wizards and soldiers quite a challenge. We have dozens of blacksmiths just here at the school, and who knows how many in the city.”

  “Those would be an enormous help and could solve our problem, except it would be impossible. It took me almost a year to constru
ct that thing. Sure, making the metal body would not be that hard, particularly if we focus on function over form, but creating the weave to make an autonomous fighting machine is incredibly complex. I could never have done it without the Codex Arcana.”

  “Then don’t make it autonomous.”

  “What good would a metal shell do?”

  Rusty broke in. “You’re talking about something like the constructs Azerick made at The Academy! They were pretty simple, to him anyway.”

  Azerick looked doubtful. “Those were simple machines designed to do nothing more than crawl around and dust cob webs out of the corners. Creating them with the instructions to attack and defend is too complex.”

  “But that’s what I’m saying, don’t make them autonomous.”

  “Am I the only one missing a point here?” Azerick asked in frustration.

  “No, the boy’s got me confused as well,” Allister responded grumpily.

  “Mechanical manipulation is a simple form of magic,” Roger explained. “I have been studying the speaking stones, and I think the magic can be modified to allow someone to see through it as well. Nearly a third of our mage cadets do not have the magical acumen to provide even decent defensive magic, much less contribute offensively. We make as many of these…pseudo-golems as we can, enchanting them with simple magic similar to what Azerick made at The Academy, only a lot bigger. The novices should be able to power the constructs even with their meager magic and move them like puppet masters.”

  Azerick and the others nodded along. “And turn the speaking stone into a seeing stone to give the operator a first-person view of the battle.”

  “Exactly! We can make a cheap golem army in a few months.”

  “It would be like the earth constructs I summoned in Bruneford’s Mill, except we would not need to form and hold them together with our magic,” Ellyssa said. “Controlling an already formed construct would require a lot less energy and skill.”

  Azerick looked to his instructors. “I want every mage who lacks the skill to be a sword or shield to start training with the soldiers. Alex, I need you to teach these mages how to fight. I won’t tell you how to train a soldier, but we do not have a lot of time, and fighting skill is vastly more important than tactics for this group. Someone go get Ken, please. Roger, if this works, you will be the first person I recommend for the King’s Honor. You may have saved thousands of lives if we can get these things functional.”

  “I think our reward will be being alive at the end of this,” Roger replied morosely.

  “Josh, Maira, Umair, see to pulling the mages who would better serve controlling these constructs. Allister and Aggie, have Simon open my vault and pick through my jewels. See if you can make seeing gems out of any of them. Ellyssa, start thinking about how our tactics might change if this works. Roger, I need you to bring me the plans for my golem. They are in a cubbyhole in my study. Alex, you know what to do. These are mages and not accustomed to your style of drills. Work them in gently but swiftly.” Azerick looked at Rusty as they all started to depart. “Rusty, could you stay a minute?”

  Rusty stopped in his tracks and hunched his shoulders. He knew what was coming.

  “Rusty, are you all right?”

  Azerick’s friend turned and looked at him with eyes red from exhaustion. “No, Azerick, I am not all right. I have not been all right for a very long time, and that…emotional raping the Scions gave me pushed me even farther from all right.”

  “Is that why you have been drinking lately?”

  Rusty wagged his head slowly. “I see them every time I close my eyes. I see the Scions torturing and killing my family. I can’t sleep. I have no appetite. Whenever I try to force myself to eat it’s all I can do to keep from vomiting. I succeed as often as not. Can you imagine what that is like?”

  Azerick stepped toward Rusty to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but he stepped away. “I do know what it is like. When I was in the abyss, a devil named Krade took me a place called The Valley of Lies. I watched Miranda and Delinda torn apart by demonic dogs. I killed Daebian with my own hands and, Rusty, it was not the flashing images of a nightmare. It was as real as you and I standing here right now.”

  “How do you get past it? How do you cope?”

  “I cope because I have to. Whenever I start to doubt, start to let fear make me forget why I fight so hard, I think about my family. I look into the faces of my students and friends and find a thousand reasons to keep fighting, because if we stop fighting and give up, your nightmares will become reality. You have to find the strength to work past it so it does not come to pass, and that strength is not in a bottle. It is in your heart, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met. It is your strength. Use it.”

  Rusty let out a shuddering sigh and nodded. “Thank you. Az, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For hating you. I don’t want to. I want to think of you like I used to, but I can’t. Is it possible to hate someone who is still your best friend?”

  “Rusty, anything is possible these days.”

  Ken came into the room just as Rusty was leaving. “You needed me?”

  “I do. Ken, do you remember the golem you helped me forge?”

  “A man don’t forget smithing something like that.”

  Azerick beckoned Roger over as the young wizard entered the room holding several rolled up pieces of paper and had him spread them out on the table. “How long would it take you and your men to craft one of these?”

  Ken ran a soot-blackened hand through his hair. “That was a lot of fine crafting. Your specifications left no room for error. If it were all I was doing, probably two or three months if I was really on my game.”

  Azerick shook his head. “No, that’s far too slow. I want a thousand of these, and I’ll probably need them within a year or less. That’s assuming this works.”

  “It can’t be done,” Ken insisted. “Each part required a flawless forging. Those were your words, and you sent back enough pieces to make me believe you.”

  “That’s because in order to create an autonomous, permanent golem the magic required perfection to make a permanent bond. Anything less than perfection allowed the magic to seep out like water in a bad bucket. What I want is very different. These do not need to permanently hold vast amounts of arcane power.”

  “I don’t know anything about all that, but if you’re saying I can make these like any other tool, then that’s a different story altogether. What level of craftsmanship do you need? How well do the parts have to fit together and move?”

  “I just need them to function. The legs and arms have to operate, and the swords need to be able to cut something.”

  Ken studied Azerick’s plans. “There won’t be anyone inside them?”

  “No, my mages will control them from a distance.”

  “All right. I recommend we do away with most of the outer shell and use a more skeletal system since you don’t need to protect anything inside. This will save time and a lot of material that we just don’t have these days. If you let me cast some of the more basic pieces it will speed things up a lot as well. Cast metal isn’t near as strong as steel, but if you’re not looking to make these things last for decades, we can get away with it.” Ken tapped his lips with a finger as he thought. “If you don’t need a perfect fit, I can set teams to focus on a single component and have it all assembled by another group. Since each arm and leg isn’t specifically designed for a perfect match, the minor variance will make an almighty racket, but it’ll function well enough. If my people can do that, we should be able to get near your number. That’s assuming we get the smiths in North Haven too.”

  “Do you know how we and the city stand on weapons?” Azerick asked.

  “Oh, we got weapons aplenty. We got enough swords and spears to put two or three into the hands of everyone strong enough to wield it without dropping it on their foot.”

  “Good, then it should not be difficult to pull
them away from weapon crafting to this. How quickly can you have me a prototype?”

  The master smith made several calculations in his head. “I’ll need to finalize the plans, but I can get you one in about a week.”

  “Let’s get to work then.”

  Turning the younger, weaker mages into warriors was not as difficult a task as he initially feared. Although the skill they learned was different, their training had run a parallel course in challenge and intensity.

  It took Ken and his team six days to construct the first machine to Azerick’s satisfaction. Allister and Aggie managed to make a jewel that, when coupled with a simple scrying spell, allowed a mage to see through it as if it were his or her own eyes. They found that polished, unfaceted tourmaline worked best, and even a person capable of only minor magic could see through it hundreds of yards away.

  Moving the construct, particularly in the precise, controlled manner required in combat, was the greatest challenge. Despite a drastically simplified version of magic used create true golems, Azerick still needed to imbue them with a certain amount of residual energy and function so the mages who operated the constructs could connect to them with their magic.

  After much trial and error, Azerick was able to perfect a method simple enough for most of his full wizards to recreate. It came as a great relief. He dreaded the possibility that he would be the only one able instill that necessary spark to animate the constructs. Azerick found Raijaun waiting for him when he returned from another examination and repair of the Scions’ prison.

  “How does it look, Father?” Raijaun asked when Azerick’s mind fully returned to their world.

  Azerick looked grim. “It does not look good. There are more flaws than I can possibly repair. I am glad you are back. I will need your help from now on if we are to buy ourselves any time of consequence. How did it go with The Academy?” Azerick asked, despite having gotten several reports from Raijaun over the past weeks.