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

by Brock Deskins

  If his experiences that day were terrible, the next proved to be unimaginable. Travis’ death was only moderately difficult to accept and troubling mostly due to having to leave The Academy. Even his capture by the psylings, although terrifying, was not nearly as devastating as what he felt at the death of his family and friends.

  It was difficult beyond imagining, but Azerick felt he could weather the session’s emotional assaults—until Xornan murdered his beloved Delinda. The tormented sorcerer bolted upright, a scream of anguish and rage tearing from his throat. He slapped Lissandra’s hand away, sending the jewel flying from her grip.

  Azerick pushed the Guardian’s steadying hands away and rolled out of the bed and onto the floor. With another primal scream, he scrambled to his feet and ran from the room. He sprinted across the large central chamber and ran for the archway opening directly to the open air of Lissandra’s cliffside home.

  Just as Azerick reached the opening and leapt to throw himself into the empty void more than ten thousand feet above the valley floor, magical strands wrapped around his body and jerked him back into the room and pinned him to the floor.

  “No!” Azerick futilely tried to claw his way to the precipice. “Let me go! I cannot do this. Please, no more. For the love of the gods, no more!”

  Lissandra laid a comforting hand on Azerick’s shuddering body. “You must go on. I know this is difficult, more so than I can even imagine, but you must persevere.”

  “I can’t,” Azerick sobbed as his tears soaked the floor and great strands of drool trickled from his mouth. “It hurts too much. I cannot go on. I can’t!”

  “You can, and you will. You will see that once you are able to process this terrible memory. I looked into your mind after I brought you here, and I believe this to be the most traumatic memory you possess, as well as the most important. Return to your bed and rest. I will give you as much time as I can for you to recover.”

  “I have my magic back, isn’t that enough?” he begged.

  “No, I am afraid it is not. Your sorcery is only half of what you are. You must rediscover yourself in your entirety for there to be any hope.”

  Azerick felt himself float above the floor and gently lowered back onto his bed. He curled into a ball and held his knees as he laid weeping until his body ached and exhaustion finally pulled him into a troubled sleep. That night, his dreams were a series of nightmares as he watched Delinda die repeatedly in a macabre montage painted with the brush of his anguished soul. Every death he had ever been a part of or witnessed, Delinda was there, taking the place of every victim.

  It took days for Azerick to summon the strength to eat, and over a week before Lissandra pushed him to continue his treatment.

  “We need to continue. I am running out of time.”

  Azerick hugged his arms around his chest and shook his head. “I’m sorry; I just don’t think I can. I want to, but I just can’t.”

  Lissandra extended her hand to him. “Come, it is time you saw the face of our enemy.”

  Azerick let the Guardian lead him from the room. She touched the wall of the main chamber and a section disappeared, revealing another chamber beyond. The room was empty except for a crystal sphere the size of his head cradled on a stone plinth.

  Once inside, Lissandra gestured to the doorway and it vanished, plunging the room into total darkness. The crystal immediately began to glow and Azerick could see again. The light continued to expand but the walls were now gone.

  The light revealed a great shimmering barrier stretching beyond sight both horizontally and vertically. Suddenly, Azerick could see beyond the wall and his knees nearly buckled. Spread out across a desolate plain milled hordes of fearsome creatures of every size and description. Everywhere creatures fought and died, but their numbers were so great even their constant battles could do nothing to reduce them. Floating high above the plain was a massive crystal fortress twice as tall as it’s width.

  “By the gods, there must be…,” Azerick tried to count.

  “Millions,” Lissandra finished. “There are millions just waiting for the inevitable fall of this barrier, and they know the time is drawing near.”

  Before Azerick could form a response, an intense pressure began crushing his brain. Four ghostly, giant-sized figures appeared just beyond the shimmering wall. They were gaunt and covered in purple silk robes. Their heads were dull grey, hairless, and far too large for their emaciated bodies. No sign of a mouth broke the featureless plain of their face. The creatures’ eyes were like looking into the nighttime sky. The twin black caverns twinkled with starlight, luminous eddies swirled, and an occasional comet streaked through them.

  Guardian, I see you have brought us a tribute. Have you finally decided to save yourself and free us?

  The chorus of voices crushed Azerick to the ground under their awesome assault. The mentally invasive power of the psylings was but the gentle whisper of a loved one in comparison. Azerick cried out as he fell to the ground, feeling as though the boot of a titan was grinding him under heel.

  Lissandra spoke a few words and gestured with her hand. Azerick gulped in air as the titanic pressure relented to a dull throb and an annoying buzz.

  “No, Scions. I wished to show you the face of your ultimate destruction, and you to him. You know my time is nearing and so I hand off my duty to one more capable.”

  Capable? He is certainly interesting, but hardly capable. We shall amuse ourselves with this strange creature before destroying him, his bloodline, and all those who trespass in the place of the true gods. Hear us, sorcerer, and live your final days in terror. We are coming, and we will destroy all who dared touch the power reserved for the gods and all who share their blood. Then we shall purge the world of all but a few of the most docile and tractable of your pathetic kind. The feeble creatures you worship as gods cannot help you. They cannot even help themselves. You are all insignificant to the true gods.

  Azerick stood and faced the Scions’ wavering image. “Only those who have fear in their hearts waste words for threats. Were we so feeble, we would be beneath your notice and such wasted words unnecessary. Stay behind your wall and save yourselves. Come to my world, and we shall be ready to meet you with steel, magic, and courage.” Azerick turned to the Guardian. “Come, Lissandra, let us leave these posturing fools to their rightful desolation.”

  Lissandra smiled and gestured. The room went black once more before filling with natural light when the doorway reappeared. Azerick sank down and shuddered, gasping for air.

  “What were those things?”

  “Those were the Scions. That is what you shall have to face. Now you see why it is so incredibly vital for you to regain all you once were.”

  Azerick shook his head. “So much power, and that from behind a great barrier. How can I, any of us, hope to stand against it?”

  “By standing together. You handled yourself well. Return to your bed and rest. We shall return to your ministrations tomorrow.”

  Azerick forced himself to stand and nodded his agreement. What he saw was so much bigger than himself. It was bigger than his pride, fear, and pain. It was the destruction of everything, and he would not let anything keep him from doing everything in his power to stop it.

  The next several days were a mash of bad to horrible, but nothing approaching the intensity of Delinda’s death. He even experienced a few pleasures like creating his school and watching Ellyssa develop into a very talented wizard. As angry and frustrating as many of her antics were at the time, he found himself laughing at his recollections.

  Finally, after weeks of emotional turmoil, Lissandra called an end at the moment of his death in Sumara. “This is where I must stop.”

  Azerick looked at her quizzically. “But there is more. I was in the abyss. I must have memories of that place as well.”

  “That is so, and you shall experience those, but not today.” The Guardian stared out at nothing. “Azerick, my time is drawing near, but you must go on. You mu
st continue to fight and grow. You now know much of the source of your strength and perseverance. I have done everything I can to prepare you for what is to come.”

  Before Azerick could form any of the dozen questions racing through his mind, Lissandra swept from the room and vanished. Azerick wanted to chase after her, to demand answers to his many questions, but her departure left no doubt as to the finality of the gesture.

  Azerick did not see the Guardian again. She did not show for the evening meal, but there was a plate set out for him. He figured he would see her in the morning, but when he woke, he was alone in the room. A slender pillar of stone rose in the center of the chamber the moment his feet touched the floor. Upon it lay the memory crystal.

  He crossed the room and lifted the crystal from its pedestal. Azerick jumped in surprise as Lissandra materialized near the column. A second look showed him that she was not truly there, but was a semi-translucent image much like the Scions had been, only normal sized.

  “Azerick, if you are seeing me then I am already gone,” the image said. “The crystal holds the last of your memories. They are those I intentionally withheld until now and stored within the crystal for you to discover. Be warned, they are the most dangerous ones you possess. When you use the crystal, those memories will unlock a cage in which your other half has been contained since you left the abyss. That half is enormously powerful and will seek to dominate you. You must apply all your resolve to ensure that does not happen. This is your most dangerous task yet, but the most vital. You will need the strength your other self possesses.”

  The image stopped speaking but remained in the room, seemingly waiting. Azerick tried to understand what she meant by his other half, but none of his previous memories gave him a clue as to what it could be. He assumed it must be tied to his being in the abyss and is why Lissandra chose not to restore those memories yesterday.

  Azerick considered not using the crystal. He had his magic back and could leave this place. Why risk what the Guardian said was so dangerous? Because he must. He had come to accept what was happening was far bigger and more important than he was. Azerick returned to his bed and pressed the crystal against his forehead.

  It hummed against his cool skin a moment before it pulled his consciousness inside its faceted form. Azerick found himself chained to the summoning floor of the Black Tower. He recalled this from his previous recollections, but instead of his previous vague memory of escaping, he felt himself falling.

  The scene raced forward as he relived Klaraxis’ possession and his inner battles with the demon lord. He recounted every instance of the demon’s existence and his struggles in maintaining control. Finally, he witnessed his death and return to the abyss. Azerick agonized over his encounter with Krade and the tortured images the devil had shown him. He found himself in his final battle with Drak’kar and the silver light tearing him from the abyssal realm.

  Klaraxis felt his black void of a prison disintegrate with the return of Azerick’s memory and ferociously charged forth, clawing at Azerick’s consciousness with every ounce of strength he possessed. Azerick, taken by complete surprise despite Lissandra’s warning, struggled desperately to fight off the demon’s assault. He fought against his rising panic and forced himself to a state of calm.

  Klaraxis raged as he brutally lashed at Azerick’s mind. “You cannot imagine the awfulness of the prison I was in, barely cognizant of my own existence! There was nothing, just the black void of a semi-existence!”

  Azerick mentally took hold of the demon and simply responded, “No,” and pushed Klaraxis away from him.

  Azerick shuddered as he shared Klaraxis’ pervasive fear over his banishment. Whatever prison Azerick’s loss of memory had thrust him into; it upset the demon more than anything he had ever felt from his host before. Azerick tuned out Klaraxis’ furious howling and returned his focus to Lissandra’s image as she spoke once more.

  “You should now know who you are in your entirety. I pray you were successful in maintaining control. Your apprentice and the Codex Arcana are now being held in the Office of Inquisition in Argoth. You will need them both in the coming days. There is one more thing I must show you. Please follow me.”

  The illusion turned and strode from the room and Azerick dutifully followed. Lissandra came to a brief stop before the solid wall of an unfamiliar room. The stone before her vanished and revealed another large chamber beyond. Azerick assumed it was the Guardian’s personal chambers. The room had a large bed and furnishings typical of any fine home, if a bit austere.

  What caught his eye was a large, crystalline egg the size of a keg of beer near the center of the room, and it moved. Azerick watched warily as it twitched and a crack formed along its side.

  “I told you that there would be another who would be a great weapon against the Scions, and this is it,” Lissandra explained. “As the elves did in my creation, I took from you your essence and combined it with my own. Here it has been growing for most of the year since I took you from the abyss. It is our son, a creature of human, dragon, elf, and demon spirit. The plurality of its soul and ability to wield the magic of all our races will make him truly formidable.

  “It is up to you to ensure he learns not just power, but discipline, sacrifice, and decency. The demonic portion of his soul will encourage him to selfishness and destruction. You must defend him at all costs, even from his own nature. I have named him Raijaun and have spoken it to him frequently so that he will respond to it when he hatches. I have already given the last of myself to the barrier holding the Scions at bay in hopes of granting you the time you need to prepare for their invasion. I can only pray it is enough. Raijaun will grow swiftly, as his demonic nature, as well as that of mine, dictates. Take care of our son, teach him to be a good man, and civilization may have a chance. Goodbye.”

  Lissandra’s image vanished, throwing the room into an eerie silence. The quiet was broken a moment later as another crack formed in the amber crystalline cocoon. A spider web of fractures began appearing as the creature inside struggled to break free of its incubatory prison. One final thrust sent shards of crystal skating across the floor as Raijaun exploded from the glassy shell.

  Azerick’s son spotted him, hissed loudly, and leapt away, placing the bed between him and his father. Azerick stood in disbelief as the creature emerged and fled from him. His skin was the color of granite, small black horns jutted slightly back from his head, and a pair of leathery blue-black wings sprouted from his back.

  Azerick knelt and called out to his son. “Raijaun, it’s all right. Come here.”

  Raijaun, crept warily around the side of the bed, peaked around the corner, and narrowed his green-flecked, golden eyes at Azerick. He tilted his head upward and sniffed the air several times. He crept forward as Azerick beckoned and gently called his name. Raijaun lightly touched the tips of Azerick’s extended fingers with his clawed digits. Sensing something, a bond or perhaps just the knowledge this person was not going to harm him, Raijaun leapt into his father’s arms and cooed as he nestled his head against Azerick’s chest.

  He certainly looks like his father, one of them anyway. Do you think you can prevent him from acting like me as well?

  “You will have nothing to do with any of my children, demon,” Azerick swore. “As I told you before, I will destroy us both before I let that happen.”

  And as I told you, we shall see.

  Azerick set Raijaun on the edge of the bed, pulled off a small, wool blanket, and created a sling he then draped around his neck. Securing his toddler-sized son within the fold, he stood at the edge of the entrance to Lissandra’s lair and conjured his staff to hand. Azerick gave an ecstatic sigh as he felt the familiar warmth of the artifact in his hand once again.

  “Well, Raijaun, we have a great deal to do, so we had best get to it.” Azerick shifted to his demonic form, and stepped out into the void, gliding down into the valley below.