The Sorcerer's Legacy (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  The goblin frantically scrabbled forward, tearing his shirt and putting three bloody scratches down his back. The moment he was clear of the wire, he sprang to his feet and ran as fast as his skinny legs would carry him while the chicken slapped him about his head and shoulder trying to break free of his grip.

  The farmers freed the dogs and were now chasing the thief down. Grick ran towards the hills where he hoped he would be able to lose his pursuers. Escape would have been relatively easy had it not been for those dogs. Grick cursed his ill fortune.

  The baying of the dogs rapidly drew nearer and Grick realized that the farmer must have let at least one of them off the leash to help run him down. The goblin could now hear the dogs barking right on his heels. With a look of remorse, Grick threw the chicken he had stolen right into one of the hounds’ barking muzzles. The terrified hen squawked, flapped, and clawed at the dog, buying the goblin a few more seconds of freedom.

  The dog attacked the chicken that flapped frantically at its face in terror. The hound, its blood already pumping in excitement, stopped and tore the poor flightless fowl to shreds. Within moments, the farmers caught up to the dog, pulled it off the mauled bird, and continued their pursuit.

  Leave me alone already; it’s just a few eggs! Grick shouted to himself as he plowed into the cold waters of a stream.

  He ran downriver for several seconds before crossing in an effort to try to lose his hunters. The dogs cast about in confusion as they tried to reacquire their prey’s scent. Grick ran up the hill and slowed to a fast walk in order to get his breath, praying that the dogs would not pick his scent back up. A few minutes later, the change in the hounds’ braying informed him that his prayers had gone unanswered. He was not surprised. What god looked out for pathetic, thieving goblins?

  The trees began to thin as he gained the rocky terrain of the nearby mountain range. Grick had been fleeing his pursuers for nearly an hour and he began to think that they were going to chase him to the ends of the world. He scrambled over large boulders as he climbed higher into the mountains. The goblin was a good climber and hoped that he could find a steep incline or cliff that the farmers and their dogs would be unwilling or unable to follow.

  He headed for the steep rock face that he saw ahead. Clambering over a few huge boulders, he dropped over the far side of them and faced the steep cliff face. The cliff soared over his head to an imposing height and offered very few handholds. With an unassailable cliff above and below, Grick’s only option was to go back the way he came. Cursing his misfortune, he climbed back atop one of the massive boulders that tried to bar his path. Glancing between them, he spied a dark fissure that looked to be rather deep.

  Such a crevice could conceal him but it also might trap him. He wondered if the farmers would let him go or wait him out. They might even try to smoke him out or throw stones down at him. Any choices he may have quickly dwindled as he heard the dogs and farmers scrambling up the mountain’s slope just below him. Grick dropped down between the two huge boulders and slithered down the narrow crevice that lay between them.

  He continued to climb down and became more and more hopeful of evading his pursuers the deeper he was able to climb. Grick lowered himself down by his scrawny arms and cast about with his big feet in an effort to find a good foothold to continue his descent. His hands suddenly slipped and his stomach lurched as he unexpectedly found himself in freefall.

  Grick landed on what sounded and felt like a large pile of chains. The impact blasted the air from his lungs and he spent a solid minute gasping for breath. A sharp pain stabbed mercilessly into the right side of his back. Fear filled his heart as he reached back with his hand to probe his injury and felt a slimy wetness. Fearing that he was bleeding profusely, he felt a great sense of relief when he looked at his hand and saw that there was no blood there. If he was not bleeding then what was so wet? His eggs!

  Cursing vilely once again, he grabbed his pouch of eggs and examined the crushed contents. With a shrug of his narrow shoulders, he upended the leather pouch and slurped down the contents, spitting out the occasional shell that slipped down with the slimy raw egg. The eggs tasted like heaven but only marginally satisfied his empty stomach. He sat up and took stock of his situation.

  Reaching behind him, Grick felt around for whatever had jabbed him so hard in the back. His fingers brushed cold metal that shifted under the touch of his hands and legs as he moved about. Looking at what he had landed on more closely, he realized that he was sitting on a huge mound of coins!

  Using his hands to brush away the thick layer of dust that covered everything, he saw that there was far more here than just coins. Gems, weapons, and chests of different sizes sat piled within a huge cavernous chamber. Flinging out the shattered contents of his leather pouch, Grick scooped handfuls of coins and gems into it until he could barely close the top.

  As he was tying the pouch onto the rope he used as a belt, a rather disturbing thought entered his bald, wrinkly head.

  Who did all this treasure belong to and where were they?

  He looked around but could only see the stone walls of the cavern in every direction although just barely. The cavern’s ceiling and the fissure he had fallen through lay more than twenty feet above him with no way to climb back up to it.

  Grick began sliding down the mound of treasure and came to an abrupt halt as he neared the floor. At the base of the treasure pile were numerous strange glyphs. Grick did not know much about magic but these definitely looked and felt like magic. He had seen such things before when he was the plaything of a rather malevolent wizard.

  The goblin carefully scurried around the entire pile and saw that the strange sigils completely encircled it. Grick climbed back to the top of the mound and sat back down dejectedly. He was unsure what the symbols meant, but he had to assume they were there to protect the valuable hoard. Thanks to his pilfered eggs, he was not hungry enough to risk crossing the wards and possibly being turned into tiny smoking goblin bits.

  “Great. Grick is now wealthiest goblin in the world and will soon become wealthiest dead goblin in the world,” he gloomily informed the dark cavern around him as he sat trapped on the pile of riches.

  CHAPTER 3

  Wolf drew back the string of his bow until his thumb brushed his ear. The young half-elf sighted down the long, straight shaft of his arrow and drew a bead on the rabbit that was peacefully munching on grass shoots twenty yards away. He slowly let his breath escape through his nostrils, held it, and released his grip on the bowstring. As the lethal, steel-tipped arrow sped towards its target, some sixth sense or just plain luck, good for the rabbit, bad for Wolf, caused the furry creature to hop forward at the last possible moment.

  “Trasnik!” the half-elf youth cursed in elven.

  The arrow skipped off the hard ground just past where the rabbit had been a fraction of a second before and flew off into the brush. The rabbit bolted through the grass and scrub and darted down into its hole where it would probably remain for some time.

  Ghost, the boy’s enormous black wolf, constant companion, and best friend, looked up at him as Wolf’s stomach vocalized its own complaint.

  “Don’t worry, Ghost, I know where we can find some food,” he reassured his furry friend.

  He knew where he could find food in a pinch, but it was very dangerous. Although the creatures that guarded their store of food were not much taller than he was, they outweighed him by at least two, and sometimes threefold and swung their wooden-hafted weapons with unerring accuracy. However, their most potent weapon was a shrill cry that could nearly shatter the bones right inside a body. Wolf knew he would have to risk it; his stomach demanded sustenance.

  Wolf and Ghost padded silently towards the den of the fearsome creatures that dwelled just a mile from where he hunted. Within minutes, he came upon the rough stone wall that marked the outer boundaries of their territory. Wolf laid his bow and quiver down next to a breach in the wall where the ancient stones had fallen dow
n. His arrows were useless against the creatures further in. Stealth would provide his only chance of success.

  “Stay here, Ghost, and watch my stuff. I’ll be right back out.”

  Ghost looked at his two-legged friend, blinked his big golden eyes, and sat near the hole in the wall. Wolf peered past the breach, saw that dozens of the male creatures were busy working and prowling around a good distance from where he was and posed little threat to his mission. He darted past the opening and dove behind a pile of cut stone blocks. Ensuring that he had not been spotted, Wolf clung to the shadows cast by one of the dwellings where the creatures lived and sidled towards one of the openings closest to where they hoarded their food.

  Wolf peered through the narrow opening of the lair and saw three of the females preparing food for the males that were busy working outside. One of the female creatures disappeared deeper into the lair while the other two were preoccupied at the far end of the chamber and were not looking in his direction.

  This would be the best chance he would likely have to pilfer some of their food. The boy crept through the opening and sidled into the chamber like a two-legged crab, keeping low to the ground and moving as quietly as possible.

  Wolf crept up to the large wooden table where a freshly roasted fowl of some kind lay on a plate. He reached up onto the table and quietly slipped the cooked bird into the sack he carried. Just as he was dropping the delectable food into his sack, a fourth creature he had failed to spot appeared near the entrance and saw him. With an ear-piercing shriek of outrage, the monster immediately launched into an attack, slamming the tabletop with its long weapon, just narrowly missing Wolf’s head.

  “Wolf, you filthy little sneak thief!” the cook shouted shrilly at the half-elf.

  Wolf bounded over the table with a laugh, leapt onto the open window ledge where he snatched up a pie that had been set out to cool, and darted away with his prize.

  “Wolf, you get back here with that or I’ll tell the magus!” the cook impudently threatened the fleeing boy, shaking her broom at him.

  Wolf stopped, turned around, and blew a loud raspberry at the outraged woman and ran off laughing once again as her tirade bounced harmlessly off his fleeing back. Once past the wall, Wolf paused to snatch up his bow and arrows before sprinting for the woodline where he and Ghost could enjoy the spoils of their labor.

  “I swear, that boy is wilder than that wolf he usually has with him,” the cook commented to the other kitchen workers.

  Wolf stopped running once he reached his favorite spot a few minutes later. He pulled out the roast bird, chicken he found to his delight, and set it on top of the boulder he often used as a table.

  “Look, Ghost, I got us a good one this time and pie too!” he crowed triumphantly. “This is one of my best heists yet.”

  “Put down that pie or get blasted!” a young feminine voice ordered from behind him.

  Wolf turned his head and saw a girl, who at nine years old was just three years younger than Wolf, pointing a small stick at him.

  The half-elf looked accusingly at the big wolf sitting expectantly next to him. “It’s a good thing you’re a wolf because you make a lousy guard dog.”

  Ghost gave the half-elf what passed as a shrug for a wolf and looked back at the chicken, licking his chops.

  “Hi, Ellyssa, want some pie?” Wolf asked.

  “You don’t need to steal food from the kitchen, Wolf. Magus Azerick said you can come eat with us whenever you want,” she patiently told her friend.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Wolf tore a large piece of the breast meat off the chicken and gave it to Ghost while he messily ate one of the drumsticks. Within minutes, the two half-wild creatures had stripped the bird’s bones clean of even the smallest pieces of flesh. Wolf pulled out his hunting knife and began slicing up the still warm apple pie. He handed a sticky slice to Ellyssa, set one on a rock for Ghost, and then cut a large slice for himself that he devoured in seconds.

  “So are you two all moved in now?” Wolf asked the girl as he cut himself another piece.

  “Yeah, they finished the roof and two of the floors three days ago. They still have to do the upper floors of the tower but Master Azerick wanted our rooms and some of the basement rooms finished first,” she informed Wolf.

  “Why is he worried about the basement rooms?” Wolf asked, working his words around the mouthful of apple pie.

  Ellyssa shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Something about needing a vault, but I don’t know what he is going to put in it. The only money I have seen him with is a pouch of gold and that’s almost gone from paying all the people who are working on the keep.”

  The two children sat in the small clearing eating pie and talking. Meanwhile, scores of workers were busily stacking and mortaring stone, sawing timbers, rebuilding the wooden floors, and putting support beams in place in order to make the old tower inhabitable once more.

  “Master Azerick,” one of the men that was appointed as a job foreman hailed as the sorcerer stepped out of the tower. “We just finished hanging that door on the one basement chamber you were anxious to get finished.”

  “Excellent, show me what you have,” Azerick replied.

  Azerick followed the foreman into the tower and down the stairs that led to the rooms below the tower. Two men were making final checks to ensure that the balance was perfect and that the door opened and closed smoothly.

  “Here it is,” the man proudly pointed out. “It was a real piece of work I’ll tell ya. Six inches thick with a sheet of iron sandwiched between the wood, but it floats on the hinges like it’s nothing.”

  Azerick examined the heavy door. It was only six feet tall but it was thick and banded in iron. The rugged hinges could easily have handled a door twice its size but Azerick had insisted that that the door be built like a vault, which was precisely what he had in mind for it. Once he inscribed his protective wards upon it and the chamber beyond, it would be nearly impenetrable.

  “Excellent work, gentlemen. I think you are done here for now,” Azerick told the workers.

  The foreman called to his men to follow him back up. “Right then, I guess we’ll get working topside again. Lots to do ya know.”

  Azerick smiled at the understatement. “That I know. With luck I will be able to hire a great deal more workers shortly.”

  “We can sure use them. Depending on what all you want done, I can keep a thousand men busy for a year putting this place right again.”

  “That is precisely what I have in mind,” the sorcerer replied.

  Azerick stood in front of the open doorway and looked in at the spotless empty chamber. He hoped that what he had planned would work. If any of the glyphs he had created around the dragon’s treasure he had claimed after he killed the creature were marred or damaged it was all likely gone forever. Worse yet, he would not be able to afford to hire more workers to finish his tower.

  With a thick piece of chalk in hand, Azerick carefully inscribed the chamber floor with the exact same runes that he had drawn on the cavern floor where he hoped his treasure still lay. He checked his work in the large tome that he had brought with him just for this purpose. Not only did the sorcerer have to redraw the runes in the same sequence as the distant ones, they also had to correlate in direction as well. Just as he had done in the cavern nearly a year ago, he started with the rune that pointed due north and worked his way around the chamber in a clockwise direction.

  The task was exacting in detail and it took several hours to finish. Azerick stood back and surveyed his work. Once he found it acceptable, he raised his arms and chanted the words to the ritual. The air began to shimmer as the sorcerer waved his arms about, shaping and directing the Source, that mystical flow of power that all wizards and sorcerers tapped into to create their potent magic.

  The shimmering began to take form as a large, indistinct mound coalesced into being in the center of the room. The misty shape resolved into a huge pile of tr
easure. The mound of gold, silver, and copper coins, bejeweled weapons and armor, wooden chests filled with unknown treasures, and all manner of valuables was awe-inspiring. The chamber Azerick had prepared for this very purpose was significantly smaller than the huge cavern where he had found it after defeating the dragon that guarded it. The smaller room made the pile of treasure appear even larger than he remembered.

  However, what truly drew his eye now was the small creature that slid boneless down the face of the glittering mound. The goblin sat up, supporting himself with his skinny arms, and shook his head in an attempt to clear his disorientation.

  Grick was thankful that goblins were incapable of vomiting or he would definitely be losing his last meal right now. Not that there was much left to throw up. He had been trapped atop the treasure mound for at least two days and was nearly ready to risk a leap over the runes that had encircled it. Better to be burnt into a goblin briquette than starve to death.

  Azerick watched the little, brown mustard-colored goblin get shakily to his feet. The goblin looked up at Azerick who stood with his arms crossed and wearing a bemused and quizzical look. Grick looked around and saw that he was no longer in the cavern and that the human must have brought him, along with the treasure pile, to his home. That made Grick realize two important things. The treasure must belong to this human, and the human was a very powerful wizard.

  Azerick watched with interest as the goblin looked up at him and swallowed nervously. Grick slowly lifted the platinum circlet that sported an enormous emerald off his hairless head and set it gently onto the pile. With equal care, he doffed a dozen or more heavy gold necklaces and set them aside. The goblin then stood up straight, wrung his hands nervously, and waited for whatever fate had in store for him.

  Grick was terrified, but he would not cower before this human. He had been the slave of a very unpleasant wizard before who had subjected him to an unending amount of pain and humiliation. If the human wanted to kill him, so be it, but he would not whimper and cower.