The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  He spotted blackness against the grey landscape and swooped down for a closer inspection. The Rook lit upon an overhang of jutting rock and peered into the inky black cleft in the stone beneath him. He knew immediately this was what he sought and was no mere trick of shadow or simple crevice.

  There was a coldness emanating from within not present in this world of nothingness. His breath came out in thick plumes of white vapor as if giving a visual warning of the forbidden place. The Rook slipped into the crevice and the darkness instantly swallowed him whole.

  The Rook allowed his eyes to adjust to the unnatural darkness within the rift, but even his demon-enhanced vision had trouble piercing the gloom beyond a few yards. He lightly brushed the cavern walls with his hands and wings to help guide him through the twisting and often narrow fissure. It was slow going, but there appeared to be few divergent paths and even fewer that would accommodate his form. He was unconcerned with this. If the passage ever became too tight to navigate, he could abandon his stolen body and easily glide through. It would certainly allow him to travel faster, but he did not know if another host would be readily available on the other side. His shade form was also especially vulnerable to the attacks of the demons who looked upon his kind as food.

  The Rook’s eyes continually darted toward flickers of movement that looked like nothing more than a shift in the shadows that highlighted the already black surfaces of the cavern. Most anyone would simply discount this as a trick of the mind, but the Rook’s assassin-trained mind knew something was watching and following. Whatever they were, he knew there were several, it was impossible for him to capture more than a flutter out of the corner of his eye.

  He was about to discount the creatures as being little more than shadowy cave lizards when they decided to strike. There was no warning and no change in movement to warn him of the impending danger. The black walls of the passage seemed to come alive and wrapped around his hands and wings as they brushed the surface. They continued to flow over his body until the shadows engulfed him.

  Despite their insubstantial nature, the shadows tore at his physical body. He heard and felt his joints popping. The Rook detached himself from his host’s nervous system as the shadows began tearing him apart. As his physical vessel died, he tried to escape in his true form. He barely got out of his body when the shadows grabbed and held onto his shade form

  “Tressspassserrr”, the shadows whispered menacingly.

  The shadows began to pull him apart just as they had his physical body and he cried out.

  “Waaait. Killlerrr.”

  “Yesss! Killlerrr.”

  “Ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

  The shadows stopped pulling and began caressing his form, even sending ethereal tendrils through his body.

  “Yesss, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

  “You seeek passsaaage, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr?”

  It took a moment for the Rook to understand. He had always been a creature of the shadows. Born in a dark alley and left to die. Raised in the dark confines of an abbey where he learned to worship Sharellan. The shadows have always comforted him as a blanket comforts a child.

  “Yes. I seek passage to the Fifth Circle.”

  “Come, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr, we willl ssshow youuu the waaay.”

  The shadows still held him, but now their touch was light and they carried him swiftly through the passage. The black walls raced by faster than if he were on the swiftest mount. The feeling was exhilarating and terrifying. Even after all this time, his mind held onto some of his physical limitations. The shadows raced him through twisting turns, up through vertical fissures, and down shafts that must have plummeted thousands of feet.

  The Rook spotted a brightening in the surrounding tunnel. It was at that moment his shadow brothers stopped and released their hold on him. The spectral assassin looked closer and definitely saw that the passage ahead grew more luminous. The faint light had a reddish cast to it, and he knew that he was now within the Fifth Circle. The Rook glided toward the light, but he knew his journey was far from over. There was a great expanse of land to cross full of hostile demons, and just getting into Klaraxis’ citadel was likely going to pose its own challenges.

  “Goood huuuntiiing, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Olivia raced down the street, her worn and battered sandals slapping against the cobblestones as she ran, their rhythmic staccato broken every time a puddle or pile of horse droppings forced her to evade the obstacle. Running while clutching the parcel in her arms was difficult enough without having to dodge such hazards, but it was how she earned her keep.

  One of many orphans populating North Haven, she had been lucky to get work at the courier service where they allowed her to live in the back room. What little coin she earned was from the occasional tip of a generous client. The promise of a large tip and note of urgency was the only reason she was working past dark. Normally, she would never be on the streets this late, but sometimes an order came in that needed to be filled no matter the hour.

  She was well known by now, having been doing her rounds for the last two years, and no one really bothered her. Her bright smile and friendly demeanor made her popular and welcome most anywhere her deliveries took her. However, even with the Witch of North Haven putting the fear of the gods into the slavers these days, a lone, ten-year-old girl was still in danger traveling the streets after dark. The witch may have the slavers scared, but there were still those willing to risk her wrath. She could not be everywhere, after all.

  Olivia finally reached her destination and hesitated at the front of the building. She was in the industrial ward, and the streets were practically deserted since almost everyone was done working for the day and were probably sitting in their homes or enjoying a drink at one of the numerous inns and taverns throughout city. She tried the door and, after discovering it open, stepped into the dimly lit interior.

  “H-hello?” she called out hesitantly.

  A voice answered from farther back into the shop. “Back here.”

  Olivia followed the voice and spotted the faint glow of a lamp or candle through a doorway at the far end of the large building. She was still cautious but relieved to be nearly finished with this job. It was late and she was hungry. Of course, she still had to make it back home.

  She stepped through the doorway and into a room dimly lit by small lamp. A man in his fifties, or maybe sixties, was sitting on a high stool examining something on a workbench. He did not turn when Olivia entered so she cleared her throat and spoke.

  “Sir, I have your package.”

  The man turned on his stool and smiled. “It seems we have a bit of a problem. That is not the package I want.” Olivia glanced down at the paper-wrapped parcel in her hands in confusion. “I’m afraid you are the package.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, someone grabbed her from behind. Olivia was young, but she was no fool. Fools did not live long on the streets. She let loose an ear piercing shriek, grabbed the small knife she always wore at her hip, and was able to move her arm enough to stab the forearm of the man holding her.

  “Ow, the little rat stuck me!” the slaver cried as he watched the girl break free and run.

  Olivia put her feet in motion the instant the man let go of her. He stood between her and the door, so she ran for the only other possible route of escape she saw. The room she was in was large, almost like a small warehouse. It stood three stories tall but was mostly open to the top. Large crates and various tools and machinery filled much of the room and the partial floors above. She ran up the stairs and looked for a way out.

  She heard several men clomping up the rickety stairs after her as she ducked around and under crates and large, dusty objects of which she could not decipher their use. Unable to find a ladder to the roof, Olivia crawled beneath something that looked like a large loom with massive rollers. She curled up in a dark corner and listened as the men searched and cursed as they fumbled ar
ound in the darkness.

  Her heart beat so hard she was sure the men would hear it if they got close enough. Olivia wondered if the men would eventually give up. She doubted it. They knew she was here and would not likely leave until they got her. Maybe the Watch heard her scream and was already coming to investigate? She doubted that as well. There were few residents and little to steal in the district, so the Watch made very few rounds this far in.

  Olivia bit her lip and tried to quiet her breathing as the glow of a lamp drew closer. Her body shook as she stared wide-eyed at the pair of feet visible beneath the machine. They turned and a grinning face replaced them.

  “Found ya, ya little rat!”

  Olivia screamed and slashed at the grasping hand. The man, down on all fours, managed to grab her wrist, wrested the knife from her small hand, and dragged her out. Olivia tried scratching and biting until the man slammed her against the machine.

  “Stop squirming or I’ll club ya senseless,” the slaver said. He stuffed a wad of cloth deep into her mouth when she tried to scream again.

  Olivia fought back the urge to gag on the filthy cloth and ceased her struggling. There was little she could accomplish by continuing to fight other than being beaten. The slaver carried her downstairs draped over his shoulder. Once at the bottom, he dropped Olivia onto a carpet spread out on the floor. A hundred things ran through Olivia’s mind, each of them more horrifying than the last. She was almost relieved when her captor simply rolled her up into a bundle and hoisted her back onto his shoulder.

  “Damn, for a stray, she sure eats well,” the slaver said as he adjusted his burden to accommodate the unexpected weight. “Remember what I said, ya start to struggle or cry out and we’ll club ya senseless.”

  Olivia did as she was told and tried to ignore the discomfort and queasiness caused by being draped over the man’s shoulder and bobbing motion. At least the carpet provided some protection from the man’s shoulder digging into her ribs. From the number of twists and turns they made, Olivia assumed they were taking a surreptitious route along the back alleys and narrow, unused byways between buildings.

  The odor of the port became strong enough for Olivia to detect it even over the smell of the carpet. She heard the lapping of water against the docks and the creaking of the moored ships nearby. The sickening motion stopped and new a voice spoke.

  “Here are your papers clearing your cargo. You shouldn’t have any problems with customs, as usual.”

  Olivia heard the telltale clink of coins exchanging hands and they began to move again. The sound of her captors’ feet became hollow as they stepped onto the dock and boarded their ship. The man carrying her dropped her unceremoniously to the deck and used his foot to none too gently unroll her.

  One of the slavers opened a hatch from where at least a dozen frightened faces looked up. “Climb on down there. You’re on our ship and there’s no place to run.”

  Olivia stood up and smiled. “You’re right. There is no place to run,” she said and kicked the hatch shut.

  The three slavers stood immobile, unsure of what to make of the girl’s sudden change in behavior. Even as their slow-processing brains formulated a response, the girl’s form began to shift. She grew taller and aged several years right before their eyes. Her short, brown hair lengthened and became a dark blond with a lock of white framing each side of her face.

  “The witch!” one of the men called out.

  Ellyssa had been locating and killing pirates for weeks, but she was never able to board one of their ships. The slavers had begun staying out at sea after her failed attempt to destroy the ship and crew. Now they dropped their men off and returned at a prearranged time or when someone signaled them with a lantern.

  She had been playing Olivia for almost a week after extracting information out of some of the slavers she brought to justice. It was just a matter of time before they struck at the easy target she created for them. The real Olivia was living in Ellyssa’s room as one of the newest students to attend the Orphan’s Academy. It had not taken much to persuade the girl she was better off there than working for the courier service.

  One man turned to run, but Ellyssa reached over her head, grabbed one of the lines strung through the rigging with the Source, and gave him a gallows death. The closest slavers to her drew blades and charged, eliciting a hue and cry of alarm. An evil smile formed on Ellyssa’s face as sent them sprawling with a wave of arcane power. The deck of the ship came alive with the chaotic activity of a kicked anthill. Slavers raced around the deck, cranked the windlasses of the heavy ballista, charged her with drawn swords, and aimed crossbows.

  Ellyssa opened a magic gate just as more than a dozen crossbows twanged and two ballista bolts tore through the air where she had been standing. She stepped out onto a yardarm, gripped the mast to steady herself, and laughed maniacally as she looked down and saw several slavers struck by quarrels meant for her. A heavy spear launched by one of the ballista tore through two slavers and buried itself in the mizzenmast.

  Stepping out onto the narrow spar was a dangerous maneuver even without the vertigo-inducing effects of the gate spell, but Ellyssa had spent a great deal of time practicing just such a feat. She learned from her first shipboard battle that the sheer numbers and heavy weapons were capable of overwhelming her, so she formulated a plan to mitigate those threats.

  Out of range of everything but the crossbows, Ellyssa destroyed the heavy weapons with explosive balls of fire, incinerating weapon, crew, and setting parts of the deck aflame. Not wanting to burn the ship to the waterline with captives aboard, she channeled the Source down into the sea and brought forth a wall of water flooding over the deck, extinguishing the flames and washing the slavers off their feet.

  The effort it took to move such a large volume of water was very taxing, and Ellyssa felt herself fatiguing quickly. Before the slavers could regain their feet, the young mage reached out to the mile of cordage making up the rigging. Ellyssa’s magic severed lines and sent them after the panicked men. Like snagging tuna out of the water, Ellyssa savagely jerked the men from the deck one after another until the only thing moving was the struggling slavers suspended twenty and thirty feet in the air.

  Ellyssa brought one of the struggling men near. “Where is Captain Jake?”

  The man kicked his feet and grasped the rope coiled around his chest and neck. “I-I don’t know!”

  “Too bad for you then,” Ellyssa replied.

  The man dropped several feet and his struggles ended. She drew another man near, asked the same question, and received the same response. Man after man begged for mercy and claimed to know little or nothing. Some began spinning tales and offering guesses in hopes of placating her, but Ellyssa saw through the lies and deceptions.

  “All you have to do is tell me where Captain Jake is and I will let you go free! Is it too much to ask in exchange for your miserable lives?” Ellyssa demanded and brought another man to her. “Where is he?”

  “P-please! I don’t know!” the slaver sputtered.

  “Useless!” Ellyssa spat and prepared to dispose of this scum just as she had the others.

  “Sonjay!” the man yelled just as he began to plummet.

  Ellyssa halted the man’s fall. “What of Sonjay?”

  “H-he might know where he is!”

  “Where is Sonjay?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I know he has his own ship now and runs black market cargo between Lazuul, South Port, and here. He usually makes his run north around this time of year. Please, that’s all I know!”

  “Finally, one amongst you is actually worth something,” Ellyssa said and smiled.

  The wizard grabbed a rope and used her magic to lower herself down to the deck. Her work here was done and she could hear the whistles and shouts of the watch growing nearer as they came to investigate the commotion.