The Sorcerer's Ascension (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  “Young man, what are you doing here? These are the personal quarters of the magi,” the man demanded.

  “Please, sir, Master Allister bid me fetch a scroll he had set out that he wished to show to Duke Ulric, but I have gotten turned about and have forgotten the directions to his quarters.”

  “Bah, I don’t have time to play tour guide to some boy too simple to follow instructions. I have a great deal of work to do.”

  “Please help me, sir, lest I be turned into a newt or some such. I do not wish to be a newt,” Azerick pleaded in his most pitiful voice.

  “Take those stairs up to the third floor, his is the room on the right at the far end of the hall, and see that you do not get lost or you may well get something worse than being turned into a newt,” the man said as he pointed to a set of stone stairs leading upwards.

  Azerick sprinted up the stairs taking two steps at a time up to the third floor and ran down to the end of the hall. The door was a simple wooden door with a typical lock. He was about to take his lock picks to it when he felt the same queer sense he had experienced from the fancy jewelry box at the manor house he had robbed.

  At least there are no dogs or guards this time, he thought.

  Azerick closed his eyes and concentrated as he had before in the mansion. The emanations from the door felt stronger, cleaner, somehow better constructed but lacked the malevolence of the jewelry box. The Jewelry box was dangerous, possibly deadly. He felt that if he set this ward off it would likely do little more than alert the owner, perhaps give him a good jolt. He did not know how he knew that, but he was certain that he correct in is assumptions.

  It took far longer to manipulate the energies of this ward than the last one, and a magical ward is what he knew it to be now, but he finally got it to release its hold on the door. His practice in creating wards of his own paid off handsomely. Then he went to work on the lock with his picks, which took far less time to undo than the ward had.

  Azerick crept into the wizard’s chambers. The room turned out to be far smaller than he would have expected of a wizard of The Academy. A bed was near the window with a large trunk at the foot. A desk sat facing the wall under the only other window in the room while a large bookcase filled with books, powders, and small knickknacks stood against the wall opposite the desk. A small alchemic set rested on a table next to the bookshelf. He looked around the room for something to steal and selected a book titled “Elementary Magic” and a large crystal from the bookshelf. He stashed both items in his shoulder satchel, darted back out of the room, and ran back to the dining hall.

  The mischief-making thief cut through the gardens once again and caught sight of the two lovers making their way back inside. Azerick ran back through the door that led to the dining hall ahead of the couple and spied the old wizard coming up the hall to where the privy was located.

  Still enjoying the fruits of your wine, eh wizard? Azerick chuckled to himself.

  As the old man strode past, Azerick dropped the pilfered undergarment into one of the silk robe’s large pockets. He then cut through the kitchens, once again grabbing a wine pitcher, and walked briskly into the dining hall.

  “Here, My Lord, let me fill up your cup since you are still here. I thought you had gone out to the gardens with your lovely wife,” Azerick insinuated.

  “My wife went to the gardens you say?” the fat man asked.

  “Yes, milord; a few minutes before Magus Allister excused himself saying something about having to show someone his wand. Do you think he means to give us all a magic show? Though it did sound to me to be a private showing,” he said in disappointment. “Oh well, here they both come now.”

  Angry whispers came from the rejoined couple while the fat man glared across the table at Magus Allister. The fat man stood up, threw his napkin down, and waddled around the table to confront the wizard.

  “Magus Allister, I would know to where you disappeared and what foul business you have perpetrated,” the fat man demanded.

  “Sir, with all due respect, where I went and what I did is none of your affair,” the wizard replied, his face coloring with both embarrassment and irritation at the man's effrontery.

  “It is when your affair is with my wife! Show her your wand indeed!” the fat man shrieked in indignation.

  “Sir, I assure you I have no idea of that which you speak,” the wizard replied, his face getting nearly as red as the jealous husband’s.

  Leaning against the wall Azerick cleared his throat and pointed at the wizard’s pocket. Quicker than Azerick would have thought possible, the fat man thrust his hand into the big pocket and came up with the silken undergarment belonging to his wife.

  “Explain this, sir!” the fat man demanded.

  “I, I, I cannot,” the old man stammered.

  “Now, Peter, certainly you do not think I would betray you with this, ugh, old man, do you? I would never stoop so low,” his wife said.

  "What precisely is the level that you would stoop to, my dear?" the man asked peevishly.

  Azerick chose this time to make his escape and head back home, feeling that his work was mostly complete. He was still running on the excitement of the evening and knew he would not get to sleep anytime soon.

  Azerick sat up for a couple hours reading the book he had stolen, finding it of great interest. He hoped he would be able to keep it when this was all over. It contained a detailed explanation of magical theory and even a few minor cantrips and spells.

  He read over them and felt that with a little time he could decipher their meaning and possibly cast them. Much like the magical wards he had unraveled, he seemed to have an almost natural understanding of the mystical words.

  Azerick read over a few of the minor spells and was able to make sense of the writings and meaning after a couple hours of study. He eventually grew tired, but instead of placing the precious book in his bookcase, he laid it gently on the floor at the intersection of two passageways just up from the main room in which he slept and lived.

  The next day he awoke and went back out into the street, this time actually looking for Hugo and his friends. It did not take long and he cherished the look of surprise on Hugo’s face when he actually called him over.

  “I couldn’t get you any coin, Hugo, but I have something that should be worth at least as much as I owe,” Azerick said as he produced the crystal he had stolen from Magus Allister’s room.

  “What is this? What do I want with some piece of glass?” Hugo demanded.

  “It’s a crystal not glass, and it is said to have magical properties.”

  “What kind of magical properties?” Hugo asked suddenly wary.

  “I don’t know, I’m not a wizard, but I’ll bet someone schooled in magic will pay you well for it.”

  “All right, street rat, but next time, you better have real coin,” Hugo demanded as he punched Azerick once in the gut and stalked off admiring the reflected sunlight thrown off by the crystal.

  Azerick caught his breath as the thugs walked away laughing at his mild distress. Once the three had left, he went off in search of food to restock his larder. By noon he had a couple small sausages, a fist sized wheel of cheese, and two loaves of bread. Now that he was assured to have a decent lunch, he made his way back home to enjoy his repast.

  He crept into his dwelling with more stealth than usual, looking and listening for any signs of an intruder. He checked each of his many traps as he slinked down the passageway, but all were still functional and ready. He set himself some tea to brewing, spread out his fare, and waited for his tea to come to boil.

  A wavering aura of light suddenly illuminated the gloomy chamber then filled it with brilliant sunlight. Azerick shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the sudden brilliance coming from a few yards up the passage from his chamber. A black silhouetted form appeared, created by the sunlight streaming in from what appeared to be a hole in the air leading directly to the streets of the city above.

  “Boy, w
e have a great deal to discuss before I decide what manner of punishment I shall inflict upon you,” came the deep rumbling threat of the angry Magus.

  “I believe it best that we call the game a draw rather than escalate the war to greater levels,” Azerick replied calmly.

  “You think this a game do you? I shall quickly dispel that notion from your mind.”

  The wizard stared down at the floor ahead of him where the book of magic rested, lying in the dust. “Not only do you dare to steal my book, but you then defile it by carelessly tossing it to ground! Not surprising to find that you are an illiterate little savage."

  The wizard seemed even more incensed about his book lying on the ground than anything else Azerick had inflicted on him. Magus Allister took several steps forward and bent down to retrieve his precious tome.

  A flagstone shifted under his soft-soled foot and mortar and dust flew into the air as a powerful spring harshly pulled a rope from under the false grout that hid it. Pins that held the rope securely out of sprung out from between the stones that held them in place as they could no longer bear the force of the heavy counterweight that dropped from behind the wall.

  The wizard felt a sharp pinch around his ankles and suddenly found the world turned upside down as the rope went taught. He swung back and forth, twisting round and round as he dangled at the end of the rope that held him aloft. Heavy cloth covered his eyes and bared his buttocks as gravity pulled the hem of the robes down over his head.

  “I had a mind to be merciful, boy, but now I will truly make you rue the day you ever crossed me!” he raged.

  Azerick heard the wizard start making the strange mumbling sounds and hand gestures that he had that day he conjured the huge watery hand to grasp and dunk him repeatedly in the fountain.

  Azerick sprinted across the room and into the passage in the blink of an eye, a slender willow rod in hand. He swung the switch, interrupting the wizard’s casting by laying a great red welt across his exposed wrinkly buttocks.

  The wizard let out a great howl as fiery pain lanced across his sensitive posterior.

  “Damn you, boy!” he shouted, “I have had quite enough of this foolishness and will suffer no more abuse from you, now let me down this instant!”

  “I think not, wizard. You are under my control, and we will come to terms before I decide to let you go.”

  “Think you that it is so easy to trap a wizard do you, boy?” Allister queried with a chuckle. “I’ll show you what it means to have a dragon by the tail.”

  Before Azerick could even think of raising his switch for a second strike, the suspended wizard whipped his hand in a rapid gesture and spoke a single word. Azerick suddenly found himself unable to move as if he had been turned to stone.

  A shimmering wave like the heat reflecting off the desert sand now limned the wizard. Another string of words and gestures turned the wizard upside right, floating a foot off the ground, the rope no longer wrapped about his feet.

  “Whip me like a disobedient mule, will you?”

  The willow rod flew from Azerick’s grip, wielded by an invisible hand. He felt fire erupt again and again as unseen red welts rose across his backside.

  “Now, boy, I’m going to release you, then we are going to sit down and have a talk like civilized gentlemen. I know that may be a difficult act for you to play, but I expect you to do your best and I will tolerate no more of your foolishness.”

  Azerick found he had regained the use of his limbs and shot the wizard a glare before walking over to sit down. Fresh pain lanced across his whipped backside but he would not give the old man the satisfaction of showing any sign of discomfort. Allister took a seat across from him and studied his face for a moment.

  “Tea’s done, would care for some?” Azerick asked his guest.

  “So long as it agrees with me better than the wine did last night,” Allister said, lifting an eyebrow in accusation.

  Azerick merely smiled and poured the tea into two plain cups.

  “That was quite a performance you put on last night. The tainted wine, the rat, nearly getting me in a duel for a Lady’s honor.”

  “I do try my best at whatever I do,” Azerick replied.

  Magus Allister got up and walked over and studied the books on Azerick’s bookshelf then inspected the exquisite alchemic set resting on the crude table, revising his opinion that the boy was illiterate.

  “That’s quite a set you have there. Do you know how to use it?” the Magus inquired.

  “I have been able make it suit my purposes and yes, it is quite nice isn’t it? I was surprised to see such poor-looking equipment in the quarters of a powerful mage like yourself,” Azerick teased.

  “It serves me well enough, but you have brought up the very point that I wished to discuss with you. My door was warded to give me a warning and an unfriendly greeting to anyone who opened it that had no business within, and I would know how you managed to get past it.”

  The magical portal leading to the surface expired, throwing the room into a gloomy dimness. Azerick lifted the glass off the oil lamp that sat on the table and rubbed the wick between his forefinger and thumb. A small flame kindled between his digits and set the wick alight. He returned the glass flute to the top of the lamp and trimmed the wick.

  “How did you do that, boy?” Allister asked in mild amazement.

  “I read your book and followed the instructions. It was not much any more difficult than creating or unraveling your little magic traps. Easier since the book gave pretty good instructions. Really, if that’s all there is to magic then you have had a lot of people fooled for a very long time.”

  “No, there is a great deal more to magic than what you have read in that book. The spells you read were of the lowest order, little more than what any street corner charlatan could conjure up. But still, to have cast even those cantrips without any instruction from a real mage is remarkable.”

  “Remarkable, that’s me in a nutshell.”

  “Yes, why didn’t I see it before?” the old wizard mused, peering intently at the young man seated across from him with his wizard’s sight and seeing for the first time the powerful aura that surrounded all wizards. “You have the gift, boy, and a strong one at that I think. Still, there is no way you should have been able to get by my ward. Granted, I didn’t put much thought or effort into it. I did not think I needed to, but even my most minimal work should have been more than sufficient to keep you out.”

  “What do you mean I have the gift? What gift?”

  “You have the gift of magic in you. Contrary to what you may think, not everyone that can read can just pick up a spell book and cast spells. A person must have some amount of natural talent to even do what you did and even that would normally require a great deal of training,” Magus Allister explained.

  “So what do you want of me now. I assume you’re not going to kill me otherwise you would have done it already.”

  “I’m no more a killer than you are, boy, rest easy on that. I have a mind to take you with me back to The Academy. I’m certain I can talk the Headmaster and the council into granting you a scholarship.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve killed men before, so this better not be a trick of some kind.”

  “Perhaps you have, boy, but there is a line between being forced to kill to survive and cold-blooded murder, and I don’t see a murderer in front of me. Do I, boy?”

  “No, I don’t feel anyone ever died by my hand without good cause, but I’ll let the gods be the judge of that.”

  “Oft times they’re the only ones who can. Now pack up what you want and we will be off, assuming you want to go that is. I think The Academy will suit you far better than the streets, no matter how comfortable your home is. What do you say?” the Magus asked.

  Azerick thought about his options for several minutes while the old mage waited patiently. He had always wanted to attend The Academy, but as a scholar not a wizard. He felt like this was his home, a place where he felt
safe. But for how long? How long could he keep his lair a secret? He still had to run the streets to survive and there laid the greatest danger, the danger of being caught as well as the danger presented by the guild thieves. All it took was for him not to pay his tax before they got tired of trying to collect and made another example out of him.

  “I took a crystal from your desk too. Did you know that?” Azerick asked.

  “You mean this crystal?” Allister asked, holding it up for Azerick to see. “Of course I did. I keep a close eye on all my possessions.”

  “What happened to the people that had it?”

  “They’ll likely think twice before receiving stolen goods again, particularly magical ones. I gave them a lesson similar to the one I gave you. Last I saw them they were hanging by their breached from a bronze statue of a mounted knight,” Allister said with a grin.

  “So it was magical after all?”

  “No, but they told me some street rat told them it was when he gave it to them as some kind of payment. I assumed that you expected me to find it and therefore would not have given it to someone you liked. To tell the truth, I didn’t like the looks of them anyway.”

  “All right, I’ll go with you,” Azerick said laughing.

  Once Azerick packed away his alchemic set, books, and some clothes, Magus Allister conjured another portal to the outside. Azerick could see the streets and the sun through the window or doorway that the wizard had created.

  “What is that?” Azerick asked, looking at the thing in front of him with a skeptical eye.

  “It is a magical doorway. One end is here and the other is on the streets above.”

  “It looks like it opens just above us in front of the warehouse. Why not just have the other end open on The Academy grounds?”