The Complete Seven Sorcerers Trilogy

by Julius St. Clair

  Remi took a breath of fresh air. “I’m going to show another way. A way that’s different than yours.”

  “I’m sure I’ve already seen it,” he muttered. “You’re not special, Remi. There’s nothing you’ve done or will do that I haven’t already seen.”

  “I understand, you’re dense,” she replied, patting him on the head. “No, I’m not special, and that’s precisely why you should listen. If someone so plain and insignificant could figure out how to beat a Sorcerer, then think about what we could do if we worked together.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “The worlds have changed drastically, and so has yours. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it together. Instead of scrambling around trying to preserve yourself, why don’t you ask others for help?”

  “The Sorcerers wouldn’t do such a thing. We tried working together before. It doesn’t work.”

  “And so you just give up?”

  “No, you find another way.”

  “Exactly. And one way you should have considered was working with the rest of us.”

  “You’ll never trust me.”

  “I don’t know,” Remi said looking over at Bosen. Olivia was sitting behind him cross-legged, deep in thought, and already contemplating what was next for her. “I might.”

  “It’s too late now. The barriers are down. The Sorcerers will lose their minds now.”

  “You’re the one that killed Samuel.”

  “Am I?” Brace asked. “Are you sure?”

  Remi stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes lifted up and focused on Olivia. She was still deep in thought, but she must have felt Remi’s presence for she lifted her head a few seconds later. She gave Remi a warm smile, and then embarrassed, dropped her gaze back down into her lap.

  Remi stared at her for a little bit longer, and then she turned her attention back to Brace.

  “How long will it be until the Sorcerers decide to destroy the world altogether? Now that the barriers are gone?”

  “One night,” he chuckled to himself. “All three worlds will be gone in the next 24 hours. We’ve talked about this many times before in case we had to force everything to start all over. To be honest, I’m looking forward to it. We call it the Night of Souls. The one night where everyone will die, and one way or another, we will all find out what awaits us in the end.”

  “You don’t have to destroy the world to have a better life.”

  “I’ve seen no other way. I doubt you could show me either. Besides, time is ticking, and you’ve got a lot of work to do. Why do you think Ember left? It’s because she’s making her last preparations. Why do you think Samuel faked his death? It’s because at the end of the day, we all have a survival instinct, and he’s ready to preserve himself above all others.”

  “Samuel’s alive?” Remi shouted, grabbing Brace’s hair. “Then what’s the point of making me think Olivia killed him? How are the barriers down? Tell me!”

  Brace laughed. “Because it’s all a game. It’s a little game. We’re getting ready to put the pieces back in the box. You think we’re going to stop because the pieces don’t want that to happen. Please, no matter what you say or do, it’s over. Samuel took down the barriers because he wanted to. Because he wanted the Night of Souls to begin.”

  “You’re lying,” Remi said. She looked up to see everyone listening to their conversation. They were all as disturbed and concerned as she was.

  “Poor Remi,” Brace laughed. “You thought you were making a difference. Even this…taking me to the Center. It’s all part of the plan.”

  Remi grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him close to her face. “I’m not letting you go.”

  “I don’t care,” he snorted. “I’m the crazy one. I want to see what happens. I have a front seat to the show. I get to see one of humanity’s saviors crumble in front of me. It doesn’t get much better!”

  “Not if we reverse time,” Remi snapped at him. “Not if the machine works, we won’t—” Remi stopped speaking. She looked up at Pedro suddenly and his eyes were closed.

  “No,” she whispered to herself.

  “So that’s it,” Brace laughed. “That’s what everyone’s been so hush hush about? A machine that can manipulate time? Samuel suggested that a thing may come to light in the future but that was centuries ago. I never thought…oh! I have to see this for myself.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Pedro declared.

  “That’s why Samuel left,” Brace mused to himself. “He wants it for himself. Thank you, Remi.”

  Remi was speechless. All she could do was stare at the bound man before her, and try not to cry. The other Sorcerers didn’t know? How could she have known that? How could…

  “Thank you so much,” Brace said darkly. “You’ve been more valuable than I imagined.”

  “So what do we do?” Pedro asked. “We can’t take them all on by ourselves, and the Center will only be safe for so long. This Night of Souls…we can’t let this happen.”

  Remi stabbed Brace through the skull with her sword.

  Pedro’s jaw dropped and the group fell silent. Alicia looked back at the ordeal with her large yellow Dragon eyes, but she uttered no sound.

  “Remi?” Pedro asked carefully. “Remi, are you okay?”

  “I…” she put her hand to her lips. “I had to do the one thing that he wouldn’t expect. I…I’ve been so stupid.”

  “Remi, what’s wrong with you?”

  “The Sorcerers can’t see past a scorched world scenario because they’re stuck in their ways. With all that time on their hands, they eventually stopped growing and turned inward. They fed off of themselves, and it poisoned them. Made them sick. Without help or proper mental nourishment, they began to see the worlds as less then themselves. Anyone who didn’t think the way they thought…were nothing but slaves or pawns or worse. And when their status quo was threatened, they can think of nothing more than lashing out at all they see. I’ve been stuck.”

  Remi looked at Pedro in the eyes and suddenly she hugged him. “I spent so much time alone and sick in the town that I could only see one way. One code. But life isn’t like that. Humanity isn’t like that. To be whole, we have to be true to ourselves at the core, but also adapt to the situations and people around us. Pedro, you were ready to kill the Sorcerers on sight, but you gave Ember a chance for me. You let Brace live because I asked. I want that kind of fluidity.”

  Remi broke their embrace and rubbed a hand across Alicia’s skin. “Alicia, you have a fiery spirit that is as consuming as your flames, but you trust in me. You’re plagued by the voices of those you’ve killed, and yet, you haven’t drowned them out. You haven’t gone cold. I admire that strength.”

  She turned to Olivia last.

  “And you,” she said, her eyes meeting Olivia’s. “You did what you had to do for you. Whether it be kind in the moment, or harsh in the moment, you had a code to follow. I don’t agree with the way you’ve handled things…but I can respect the fact that the past doesn’t hold you back from going forward. Not like it does with me. Once I was free from that place, I’ve sought to change the world like you have, just in my own way. You may rely on yourself and I rely on others but we’re still trying to change the world. If we can meet in the middle for once, we might be able to accomplish something great.”

  “What are you getting at?” Pedro asked, leaning in close toward Remi.

  “The Sorcerers have been using me,” she said solemnly. “Because they know how I will react to things, they’ve orchestrated what I’ve done. So I have to be different. To be whole, I have to embrace other forms of thinking too.

  “I regret killing him,” Remi said, looking down at Brace. “And that will haunt me forever…but I also knew it had to be done. I can’t half-ass this. If I’m going to save the world, I have to go all in. I’ll do what I can to maintain my integrity and my sanity, but I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do too. Samuel was right. I am alone in this.”


  “Not completely,” Pedro said. “We’re with you too. And the rest of the weapons once we find them.”

  “If Samuel’s alive,” Remi said with a smile. “Then I believe he’s still on our side.”

  “How do you know?” Ingrid asked.

  “Because,” she said, looking at Bosen. “No one as cold as Brace could live with the common folk for years like that. He may have his own plans in place, but I think that he’ll be an ally in the end.”

  “So what do we do now?” Pedro asked. “We don’t have time for much planning.”

  “Simple,” Remi said. “After we find a way to put down the Sorcerers, we’re going back down there. We may not be able to stop the Night of Souls, but we can help people get through it. We can show them that no matter how bleak the situation may get, there is always a dawn. If the Sorcerers are the moon, then we are the sun. Let us shine bright.”

  Pedro smiled and nodded. Remi looked to the others and one by one, they nodded too.

  All except Olivia.

  She just stared at Remi with curiosity.

  The Story Continues in:

  Night of Souls (SSS#4)

  Coming Soon!

  An Excerpt to

  The Last of the Sages

  Now Available

  His father chose his words carefully.

  “Man up.”

  It was a simple phrase, yet it humorously summed up his entire philosophy, particularly when it pertained to his son.

  Direct and painful.

  Always to the point.

  James asked him once why every word that seethed out of his mouth was so intentionally hurtful, but the only answer he received was that his father hated saying the same thing twice. By being so blunt, no one could ever forget his words.

  And he was right, of course.

  Even when James was only half-listening, somehow the cruelty made its way into his subconscious, keeping him up at night and forcing him to mull over the same words spat at him each day.

  Lazy. Worthless. Good-for-nothing.

  Words he eventually believed…and it wasn’t like he had anything to prove to the contrary. He was a teenager on the brink of adulthood, living with his single father on a dying, makeshift farm, and he had no desire to learn the family business. Or anyone else’s for that matter. He was completely satisfied enjoying a life of leisure.

  And funny enough, it was not like his father had the farming knowledge to impart to him in the first place. He didn’t know a single thing about his “trade,” yet he had still started a farm despite the fact, and no one questioned his authority to do so.

  He was that feared amongst the villagers.

  Over time, James had learned to keep quiet whenever he was publicly in this man’s presence, but his father had made it a mission to turn his son into a man, and therefore, his tactics were getting more forceful and desperate with each passing year. He had begun yelling at James more and more as he grew, screaming over how he should wake up at four in the morning to prepare the pig feed or use that joke of a rototiller to plow through the rotting cornfields. And it was all for naught as James just ignored him.

  Until now.

  Now, things were different.

  Maybe his father was just jealous.

  Perhaps he was getting fed up with his son’s extended sleeping hours or his daily playtime with friends while he toiled away in the fields.

  Either way, no one ever expected him to go this far.

  “You can’t be serious,” James said as his father dropped the eggs he was carrying onto the floor rather than the iron skillet. His father bit his lip at the lost breakfast as James sighed heavily. He could see that his father’s frustrations were about to manifest in more familiar ways.

  “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired of you being lazy all the time!”

  “What?!” James scoffed, trying to hold back the chuckle under his breath. When his father got angry, it was hard to understand him. James had once told him that he should get that slurring thing checked out but he hadn’t thought that it was funny. Neither did James.

  “Are you even listening?” his father spat, his cheeks gaining some color behind his farm-tanned skin. He brushed a hand through his dirt-matted hair, causing some foreign particles to fall onto his recently washed hands. James made a mental note to skip breakfast.

  “Believe me, I’m trying.”

  “Honestly, James. What would you do in my situation?”

  “Study linguistics.”

  “Son, talk to me like a man. None of that child-game stuff.”

  “All I want to know is why you would sign me up without asking me. You’re always telling me to ‘man up’ but you never give me a chance to.”

  “I’ve given you a chance for nineteen years. Nothing’s changed. You never take the initiative. All you do is lie around and eat. When you’re not doing that, you hang out with your friends. At least they’re trying to accomplish something. At least they make their parents proud. Whenever our neighbors ask me how you’re doing, I have to change the subject because it makes me ashamed that you’re my son.”

  “Ashamed? Yeah, you should be because you’re the parent. You’re the one who’s supposed to raise me and teach me but you don’t. You work all day on a farm that never produces crops and nearly kills off all of its animals before winter even hits. You get up early and work all day and you have nothing to show for it. Nothing. You’re supposed to be my role model, but there’s nothing to model myself after.”

  “So you become a bum.”

  “At least a bum’s free to make their own choices. I choose to sleep in and chill with my friends because it’s what I like to do. What’s the point in working when there’s no reward in the end?”

  “I have to provide for you,” he snapped.

  “Yeah, but I don’t have a family to take care of. All I have is you, and as my father, you don’t even help me. All you do, whenever I try to make something of myself, is criticize me, and I don’t need that from you. You give up on me before I barely get my feet on the ground.”

  “I’m not giving up on you. It’s just that I really think the Academy will be good for you.”

  “Why? Because someone else will be teaching me?”

  “Obviously I don’t do a good enough job.”

  “I said all that stuff to make a point, not to shut you out!”

  “I guess we really are related then, because that’s exactly what you’ve done to me since you were able to talk—shut me out. Nothing I say, no matter how I say it, gets through to you. So now, I’m trying fresh tactics.”

  “Dad…but the Academy? If I…I mean…if,” James sighed heavily and quickly wiped away the tear that was welling up in his right eye. “Even if I survive the training, I’ll just get killed as soon as I go out onto the battlefield.”

  “Good,” his father said coldly. “The fear will build character.”

  “Dad, give me another chance. Please.”

  “No, I’m done with that. We’re trying something new.”

  “Have you even fought a day in your life? Seriously, when was the last time you stood for anything? Refused to give up on something?”

  “I refused to take no for an answer with your mother.”

  “I believe that’s called extortion.”

  “You know, smart guy…you wouldn’t be here today if she hadn’t married me.”

  “Guess I owe you a resounding thanks.”

  “Besides, you should be worrying about yourself instead of what I accomplished in life. Whether I had to fight or not doesn’t make a difference. I worked hard to keep this farm running and the only reason you’ve enjoyed being a bum all day is due to my labor.”

  James laughed at that last part.

  “Dad, you’re too funny. The only reason we’re still alive is because you probably got a side job somewhere. We both know that field isn’t producing a thing.”

  His father became solemn then, turning to the ice box to sc
avenge together a new meal. James sighed and slouched in his seat. As his father began rustling through the contents, James glanced around the kitchen, already missing one of his favorite spots in the small two-story ranch house. The kitchen was about as big as a walk-in closet but it still managed to boast an ice box the width and length of an adult. There was an impressive counter that swung half-way through the room, closing off the wood burning stove and a cupboard which held hundreds of hand-stocked jarred food, courtesy of his father’s labor. The candles that lit up the room were strategically placed in each corner of the room, with one hanging on a shelf just above the stove for a little extra light while his father added the right spices to his signature raccoon stew.

  The floor was spotless, and the word “rat” would never be uttered there. The neighbors dreamed of such a kitchen. The Alter family wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but that didn’t stop them from being the envy of many. Visitors just couldn’t wrap their heads around the lavish décor, and the other three rooms of equal size, composing the living room, his father’s bedroom and his son’s. For James to have his own room, it classified him as a king and no less than a spoiled brat by even the best of his friends. James had to admit that although the farm was by far the bane of James’ existence, he did feel a small sense of pride over their home.

  He tried not to dwell too much on the details of how they were able to live in such a place lest he uncover some mystery that would result in their eviction—like his father was actually involved in crime or something of that nature. How his father could afford the lease on the village’s equivalent of a mansion was beyond everyone, including James. But despite the mystery, James wasn’t about to jeopardize his lifestyle for a little peace of mind.

  Still…it was a beautiful home. The very least he could do was help with the cleaning.

  James focused his eyes aimlessly on a random corner, shamefully realizing that he had no part in helping his father with the upkeep of their home. But as soon as the guilt came, it left, as it always did.

  It was a horrible practice of his—to forget. He could have probably avoided a lot of heartache and turmoil in life by replaying the events of his history, but it was hard for him to remember anything he didn’t find important.