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

by Brock Deskins

  “Looks like you got him good,” Andrill remarked as he stepped past Rhys’ body.

  “Did you help?” Ellyssa asked shakily.

  Andrill cocked his head to the side. “Help how? No, we just got here. Why do you ask?”

  Ellyssa raised her arm for help getting up. “No reason,” she said as Andrill pulled her to her feet.

  “We need to clear off the streets. It will take some time for the power vacuum to gain equilibrium again. We can wait out the fighting in my hideout. The streets are not going to be safe for a few days.”

  Ellyssa could already see several orange halos dotting the sky, and the bitter smoke of burning wood assailed her senses. Andrill led her and his group of thieves one way while Trevor took another group in a separate direction. After traversing several blocks, Andrill decided it was best to travel the rest of the way underground. Whether it was because of the battles raging above, or he did not want her to see any street accesses near his lair, she did not know.

  The smell of smoke instantly lost the battle for supremacy to the fetid water of the sewers. Luckily, there were walkways built into the tunnels that kept them from having to slog through the waste. Ellyssa decided this would be a bad place to be during heavy rains as she figured the water level could easily rise high enough to drown the walkways and anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in the dank waterways.

  After what felt like an eternity of navigating the gloomy, rank tunnels, they stopped at what appeared to be a dead end. One of the thieves felt around the solid wall and Ellyssa heard a click. A section of the wall swung open and Andrill guided Ellyssa inside. Just as she crossed the threshold, she felt something sting her on the back of her neck. Ellyssa slapped at the irritant and pulled out a tiny dart.

  Ellyssa immediately felt a tingling rapidly spreading down her neck and across her back. Without hesitation, she reached into the small pocket inside her jacket and pulled out a steel vial filled with the antivenom she cooked up in case of such treachery. She was exhausted, but with her anger at Andrill’s betrayal fueling her magic, Ellyssa was certain she had more than enough strength to make him and his thieves pay dearly.

  She flipped the cork out with her thumb, but before she could bring the contents to her lips, a powerful force slammed into her chest and crushed her against the wall. The stone melted, ran over her out-flung hands and arms, and resolidified. Four figures covered in black cloaks stepped out of the darkness.

  “Very good, Andrill,” Inquisitor Fennrick said. “I hope you were able to achieve your goals as well, not that I honestly care.”

  “Faralynn and her wizard are dead,” Andrill replied flatly.

  “Good for you. Do you have the other half of our arrangement?”

  Andrill made a beckoning motion with his left hand and a thief stepped forward with a leather satchel. Andrill took the satchel and passed it to the wizard. Ellyssa entered a new state of rage when she saw Fennrick slip her precious book out of the leather sleeve.

  A thousand hateful things sprang to her mind and she was about to unleash them all upon Fennrick and Andrill. She looked at the thief’s face, saw the scrapes and bruises that were not nearly as fresh as those from tonight’s battle, and recalled his earlier words: Some people are reluctant to give information or provide assistance, but everyone has their breaking point.

  Ellyssa realized the thief had not betrayed her willingly, but it was small comfort when she saw the Codex in Fennrick’s grasp. She was not even sure if it was enough for her to spare the thief’s life if she managed to escape yet another capture. Andrill met her eyes and apparently read her thoughts.

  “It may come as little comfort, but I will make good on my promise. I will give you Captain Jake, for whatever good it may do you wherever it is they are taking you.”

  “How nice,” Fennrick said drolly. “I see the honorable thief still keeps his word, whenever it is not too inconvenient to do so.”

  Andrill turned his eyes on the inquisitor. “Fennrick, you caught me in a time of weakness, but that state is not to be much longer. I do not recommend you ever step foot in Southport again.”

  Fennrick responded with a smirk and stepped toward his captive. Extending a finger, he touched its tip to Ellyssa’s forehead and spoke a word of magic. Ellyssa’s head jerked back and the world fell into blackness.

  CHAPTER 15

  Azerick stood upon a parapet watching the chaos unfold all around him. Drak’kar’s horde reached his citadel in what he could vaguely comprehend as about three days ago. His own demonic minions created a barrier on the ground thousands deep, but it was slowly eroding away like sand under the relentless pounding of ocean waves.

  The cacophonic sound was as unimaginable as it was indescribable. Tens of thousands of demons clashed and shrieked as they clawed, bit, and tore each other to pieces. Flying demons wheeled in an aerial combat, clawing, slashing, and hurling magic and stones at each other as well as those on the ground.

  Whenever a flyer managed to break through the defenders, it hurled itself against the fortress’s powerful wards, striking it like a bird flying into a gigantic window. The demons clawed and hurled magic at the invisible barrier until attacked by defenders or Azerick incinerated them with his magic. Occasionally, Azerick launched powerful arcane spells blasting into the masses of demons below, but it was as effective as swatting a plague of locusts with a broom.

  Azerick could see the gigantic demon lord in the midst of the battle from his vantage point, tearing apart any lesser creature near him and unleashing devastating magic that slew his enemies by the score. Azerick struck at Drak’kar a few times, but the distance was too great and Drak’kar’s defenses were too strong to do any good.

  Never has anyone assaulted my fortress before, Klaraxis seethed. Your ineptitude has brought us ruin.

  “Drak’kar will breach the wards?” Azerick asked.

  Eventually, unless you allow me control so I can bring my full might to bear. I am strongest here in my seat of power and can yet turn the tide of this battle.

  “That will never happen, demon.”

  Then you condemn us all.

  Drak’kar moved back from the frontlines of the battle, bored with slaughtering the lesser creatures who foolishly interposed themselves between him and his greatest desire. The demon lord longed to get his claws into Klaraxis’ black flesh, no matter who was controlling the body. He would ascend to his rightful place as master of the Fifth Circle, the greatest of all demon lords. He spotted the mutilated succubus, pushed past his minions, and approached her.

  Feh'lan’s wing had mostly grown back, but she was not yet ready for flight. The constant reminder of her ultimate humiliation and violation served to fuel her hatred and thirst for vengeance.

  Feh'lan spotted the hulking and temperamental demon lord striding toward her and bowed low. “My Prince, your battle goes well.”

  “My battle goes far too slowly! Klaraxis’ defenses are stronger than I had anticipated.”

  “You will breach them and then destroy Klaraxis. None shall deny you what is rightfully yours.”

  “The delay is interminable. Search that pathetic harpy brain of yours and find me a way in,” Drak’kar snapped. “Klaraxis is not as helpless as I thought, and it will do me no good exhaust myself before confronting him.”

  Feh'lan had spent a great deal of time in the citadel and searched her memories for anything that would help Drak’kar. She had thrown in with his lot and her survival necessitated his victory.

  “My Prince, if you could reach the fortress’s barrier you could weaken a small portion of it enough to get inside,” Feh'lan offered.

  “I could, but there are as yet a sea of vermin in my path, and I do not wish have them nibbling at my ankles as I do so.”

  “Could we not burrow beneath the surface?” Feh'lan suggested. “We could come out at the wailing pits deep beneath the citadel. There you could take your time creating your breach. By the time Klaraxis or the human det
ects your presence, you and your chosen forces will be inside.”

  “Yes,” Drak’kar scratched his chin as he considered her idea, “your plan has merit. I will need to create a screen so we can work undetected.”

  Drak’kar summoned three enormous demons with wide, squat bodies supported on four legs, each bearing long, diamond-hard claws designed to cut through stone as easily as a sharp knife through soft cheese. Bony plates covered the demons’ backs, each one punctuated with a knobby spike.

  The demon lord conjured a large vortex of swirling dust, masking the activity of the huge diggers as they began excavating. Drak’kar enlisted a small army of demons to haul away the loose dirt and rubble kicked back by the burrowing behemoths. Just an hour after they started, the diggers already managed to create an impressive tunnel. It would take little time for them to dig beneath the battle raging above and reach the lower levels of the citadel.

  It was a good thing Azerick no longer needed sleep, because the racket outside would never have permitted it. As it was, it was all he could do to focus his attention on the books in front him. Finding himself largely useless to the fight raging outside, Azerick spent time going back through the tomes and scrolls Klaraxis possessed in hopes of uncovering something he had missed.

  Again, you spend hours pointlessly toiling over these useless books as if you expect to find the answers to all your problems. You have but one solution: allow me to take control and destroy Drak’kar.

  “I had a book once that was very good at answering nearly all my questions,” Azerick replied distractedly as he turned another page.

  Ah yes, the Codex Arcana. I do not believe even you understood the full import of what you possessed, Klaraxis said with a chuckle. There may have been an answer to your dilemma in it, but you do not have it now, and nothing I possess comes close to containing what you seek.

  The sound of Skulk’s fluttering wings preceded the small demon’s entrance. Azerick had forbidden the demon from simply popping in and out since it took hours for the smell to dissipate due to this realm’s complete lack of fresh air to clear out the sulfurous stench.

  “Glorious Master,” Skulk said obsequiously, “there are strange happenings on the battlefield.”

  Azerick looked up from his book. “What kind of strange happenings?”

  “Skulk does not know, Great Master.”

  Azerick stood with a sigh and walked briskly down the dark halls of his fortress. There were several thousand demons inside, anxiously maintaining vigilance in case the enemy breached the walls. Despite the numbers, the vastness of the structure prevented the feeling of overcrowding.

  He climbed the stairs of one of the primary towers and looked out across the battlefield from the vantage point of the parapet.

  “What is he up to?” Azerick asked semi-rhetorically as he stared at the large dust cloud billowing in the distance.

  I could not guess, but I know it is something deliberate and foreboding, Klaraxis answered.

  Azerick summoned his magic and attempted to cast his sight into the cloud, but Drak’kar’s magic would not allow him to spy on whatever nefarious plot he was enacting. Using one of Klaraxis’ demonic powers, Azerick grabbed the sight of a nearby succubus and directed her to fly toward the cloud, but before she could do more than brush the edge, an arcane bolt struck her down and demons tore her body to shreds. Azerick instantly withdrew, not wanting to share in the pain of the creature’s demise. Whatever plot Drak’kar was hatching, the demon lord was ensuring it remained a secret.

  “Skulk!” Azerick shouted.

  The little demog instantly appeared in a rotten-egg scented puff of yellow smoke. Azerick let it go since they were outside and his summons required some urgency.

  “Yes, Great One,” Skulk intoned.

  “Send word to everyone inside to be on alert. I don’t know what Drak’kar is up to, but I have a feeling we will soon find out.”

  Drak’kar watched as a steady stream of demons carted out armloads of dirt and rock torn loose by the burrowing beldgar demons. Hour after meaningless hour, demons excavated and cleared the tunnel, clawing inexorably closer to their goal. Several times, Drak’kar sensed the human who dominated his arch foe trying to spy on his operation. The human was clumsy, and it was easy to drive him away or destroy his spies.

  “Great Prince, we are beneath the citadel and near the wall of the wailing pits,” a balrog demon said as he dumped an armload of dirt.

  “Excellent. Lead a contingent in after me,” Drak’kar ordered and entered the tunnel.

  The beldgar demons were excellent diggers and the tunnel ran straight and true at a downward slope until leveling out about thirty feet below the surface. There it continued for nearly a mile. The diameter of the tunnel was more than sufficient to accommodate Drak’kar’s huge form until it ended at an earthen wall near the outermost edge of the fortress above.

  Drak’kar pushed past scores of demons already crowding the far end of the passage. He spotted a ranking succubus near the wall standing between the two beldgar. The succubus bowed deeply as Drak’kar stepped near.

  “My Lord Drak’kar, we are as close as we dare go while the citadel’s wards are intact,” the demon reported.

  “How close are we to the interior?” the demon lord asked.

  “Just over a hundred feet of earth separates us from one of the wailing pits. From there, we will have full access to the interior of the citadel proper,” the succubus answered and smiled eagerly.

  “Very well, have the beldgar be at the ready. I do not know if I can pierce Klaraxis’ wards without his knowing, so they will need to be ready to tear through the last of the physical impediment with great haste.”

  “They await your command, My Prince.”

  Drak’kar knelt and bent his focus outward, gently probing the massive, ancient wards. As he expected, they were supremely formidable. Klaraxis was a master of magic, even more so than he was, and the demon lord had spent an eon building and reinforcing the wards enveloping his citadel.

  Drak’kar turned to the succubus standing a respectful distance behind him. “Krasha, I will require assistance. Bring me the mutilated traitor and her cohorts.”

  “At once, My Prince,” Krasha replied with bow.

  Krasha returned several minutes later with Feh’lan and her sisters following dutifully behind her. Feh’lan stepped slightly ahead of the others and all took a knee before the powerful Drak’kar.

  “Feh’lan,” Drak’kar rumbled, “your assistance has provided me with a great opportunity, but I must ask yet again for your aid.”

  “I am yours to command, My Lord,” the succubus intoned obediently. “Anything I can do to see you to your rightful place I put at your disposal.”

  Drak’kar’s spreading smile held not a hint of amusement. “I am glad you feel that way.”

  Faster than the eye could track, Drak’kar reached out with his four, powerful arms, gripped the succubus tightly, and promptly twisted her head all the way around. The sickening crack of bone echoed down the passageway and Feh’lan’s sisters shrieked in terror and outrage. Before they could attempt to flee, several demons leapt upon them and pinned them to the ground.

  Still grasping Feh’lan’s corpse in two of his hands, the demon lord plunged a claw into her body and began slinging her black blood across the walls of the cavern. To the untrained eye, the ropy spatters looked like nothing more than random gore, but they quickly began to form a pattern and created a complex weave.

  Succubi were among the more magically gifted of the lesser demons, and their blood provided additional strength to the arcane sigil. The fact these creatures were familiar with the fortress and frequently passed through its powerful wards made them the optimal agent to bring them down. Even so, it would take a highly complex sigil and a lot of blood. It was fortunate Drak’kar had such assets at hand.