Once outfitted, he left the main hall and crossed the commons, stopping by the training yard to borrow a staff from the weapons rack. Fortunately, they did not bother to lock up the staves as they did the bladed weapons. He then threaded his way through the wooded area of the huge maneuver training field, pausing at the top of the hill to prepare his defensive spells before walking down to meet whatever fate awaited him.
“I’m surprised you actually showed up, peasant,” Travis sneered.
“And I’m not the least bit surprised to see that you brought your friends to help save your miserable skin,” Azerick replied, looking at the three other young wizards standing with him.
“Don’t worry about them; they are just here to congratulate me when you fall,” Travis said smugly.
“Let’s do this then,” Azerick challenged.
Travis motioned his friends to back away from to give them room. The three fell back about fifty feet and off to the side of the clearing that made up the dueling ground. Travis pulled a reagent from one of the many pockets of a sash he wore around his waist and began muttering the words to a spell.
Azerick reacted instantly, drawing in his own power to form his attack at the same time. Travis must have prepared his defenses ahead of time as well, Azerick surmised as he realized that his opponent was forming an offensive spell.
Azerick completed his spell first and launched three dagger-shaped brilliant bolts at Travis. A spellcaster could shape the visual appearance of many of their spells as a method to personalize their castings. All three bolts should have struck Travis in the chest, but an invisible shield harmlessly dissipated them.
That should not have been possible, given Travis’s skill level
, Azerick thought in surprise.
His shield could protect him from some of the damage, but only a wizard of much higher power could negate it entirely.
Travis released his own stream of bolts that looked like small glowing skulls. Both bolts pierced Azerick’s shield, which bled off some but not all of their power, and struck him in the chest. The blow burned like mad, but Azerick maintained his focus and launched another, stronger spell at his nemesis. A green, arrow-shaped bolt sprang forth from his outstretched hand, but whatever force was protecting his target turned his spell aside once again.
Travis completed his next spell, laughing at Azerick’s seemingly impotent casting. Travis hurled a large ball that sparked with electricity. Azerick tried to dodge the crackling orb but was caught a glancing blow on his shoulder as it sailed past. Even with the minor protection of his shield, agonizing pain lanced through his body.
Azerick now realized that Travis was wearing some kind of enchanted device that protected him from the magic that he had thrown at him thus far. Blinking the sweat and pain-induced tears from his eyes, Azerick prepared his most powerful spell, hoping that Travis did not know that he had attained such a level of skill and that it would pierce whatever protection he had bought.
It was the most complex spell Azerick knew and the time it took to cast was such that Travis was able to launch another pair of skull-shaped bolts at him before he completed it. Once again, the young sorcerer ground his teeth in pain and concentration, willing himself to focus on his casting.
Azerick thrust his hand out and shouted the arcane command that released the gathered power. The clap of thunder set his ears ringing as the smell of ozone produced by the lightning bolt filled the air. Travis was hurled back and sent sprawling as his shield failed to fully protect him from the spell’s deadly force.
The young sorcerer spun around to face Travis’s friends, knowing that they would interfere now that their leader was down. They were already casting when Azerick turned to face them and knew he could not complete his spell before all three struck. He doubted that he would be able to withstand the barrage of all three students’ spells.
Azerick was forming his attack even though he knew it was probably futile when a large gout of flame sprang from the tree line a few yards to the side of Travis’s three friends. The flaming lance of fire stretched from Rusty’s hands and shot between the young mages, burning all three. They dove and rolled in the dirt trying to smother the flames from their burning robes.
“What are you doing here, Rusty?” Azerick shouted in surprise and relief.
“Saving your butt from the looks of it,” his friend replied.
Rusty covered the three young men on the ground as Azerick turned back to face Travis. Travis had recovered from what should have been a mortal blow, holding his wand out before him.
“Put the wand away, Travis, and admit defeat,” Azerick demanded.
“No, I have you now; you’ll never be able to get that spell off before I kill you.”
“Don’t do it, Travis, or you will be sorry. I promise you.”
“You lost, peasant, and I’m going to blast your friend too, right after I kill you,” Travis promised as he uttered the command that would unleash the wand’s power.
Azerick dropped to the ground as Travis fired his wand. A massive explosion ripped through the air as the wand exploded, releasing all its stored energy in one mighty blast due to the sundering spell Azerick had cast on it previously to weaken it. The force of the uncontrolled discharge crashed over everyone in the clearing, blasting leaves from the surrounding trees and sending Rusty and the three other students flying through the air. The concussive wave washed over the prone sorcerer, rolling him away from the source of the explosion.
When the dust cleared, all the young men climbed back to their feet, ears ringing, and looked around in shock at the damage that the exploding wand had caused. All of the trees immediately surrounding the clearing had been stripped of their leaves, at the source of the blast the ground had been laid bare of all grass, nothing but dirt, blood, and Travis’s ruined unmoving form remained. All five students slowly walked up to the body and knew immediately that he would never move again. The arm that had been holding the wand was simply gone and his face and chest were shredded and blackened from the blast.
“You did this, you knew what would happen! I heard what you said and saw you drop to the ground just before his wand blew up!” one of Travis’s friends accused.
“I didn’t know it would be so powerful. I thought it would just break,” Azerick tried to explain.
“You killed him, it was murder, and I’ll see you hang for it!” another shouted.
“I would be very careful with who you threaten right now. Do you think this is the first man I have killed?” Azerick asked his eyes full of menace.
The three wizards decided to run instead of challenging the dangerous sorcerer.
“How did you know I was here, Rusty?”
“I knew you were going to do something that would probably get you killed, so I waited for you to leave then followed you here.”
“I wish you hadn’t gotten caught up in this, but thanks for your help.”
“What are you going to do now?” Rusty asked, concerned for his friend.
“I have to leave. I knew that before I came out here,” he replied as he walked over and pulled his packsack and staff out from behind a tree.
“They are going to ask me what happened, you know. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them the truth,” Azerick suggested.
“Did you know that that was going to happen when you sabotaged his wand?” Rusty asked looking at the corpse.
“No,” Azerick replied, shaking his head.
“I really did not know that would happen. At least not nearly that bad, but I am not sorry for it. He was going to rape a girl last night but I stopped him. He would have cheated in order to kill me tonight as well, so he got what he deserved. I probably saved a lot of people from his predations.”
“But you were already packed, ready to leave,” Rusty pursued, doubt creeping into his voice.
“I knew I would not be returning to the Academy no matter what happened here tonight. There are other things going on that I cannot talk about.”
“Alright, Azerick, you are my friend and I trust you. Keep yourself safe; you know I am here if you ever need anything,” Rusty promised as he embraced his friend.
They parted ways there in the clearing, Rusty going back towards the Academy, Azerick heading off in a different direction and both wondering if they would ever see the other ever again.
Rusty moved at a sedate pace, his mind feeling as though it were in a fog, desperately trying to come to terms with what had happened and what to do about it. A troupe of Academy cadre, being led by the recently deceased Travis’s friends, intercepted Rusty as he walked slowly back to The Academy.
“There he is, Headmaster, he saw that street rat kill Travis!”
Rusty started at the unexpected shout and saw Travis’s trio of friends leading Headmaster Dondrian, Magus Allister, Magus Florent, and Magus Bauer towards him at a rapid pace. Magus Bauer looked furious and ready to flay the skin from someone, Magus Florent and Allister looked concern, while the Headmaster just looked confused.
“Franklin, what has happened, where is Azerick?” the Headmaster asked, winded from the swift walk.
“I don’t know where he is. As to what happened, that’s a long story, but Travis is dead and they were part of it,” Rusty said, pointing at the three that had brought the teachers.
“Take us to Travis and where it all happened,” Magus Allister told Rusty.
Rusty led the group back the way he had come and into the small clearing. Nothing had changed in the last half hour. The massive blast had scorched the ground clean of grass and shrubs, the nearest trees were bereft of much of their foliage, and Travis lay strewn about a large are in so many pieces that it would take days to recover most of the bits for burial.
“By the gods,” Allister rumbled, looking on in shock and disbelief. “I think we had best get back to your office, Dondrian, and discuss this further. We will need to contact the boy’s father.”
“As well as the magistrate,” Magus Bauer added in her own shrewish voice.
“Indeed,” the Headmaster replied, heaving a heavy sigh. “This is a most distressing situation with little chance of coming out well for anyone involved.”
EPILOG
Several dark robed figures sat around a large stone table in high-backed chairs of ancient design. The light was poor, barely illuminating the grey, featureless walls of the dusty, stale chamber.
“Ulric is taking too long to secure the armor, and with it, the throne,” one of the figures said.
“The length of time is not unexpected. Dundalor’s armor was scattered throughout the known world millennia ago. We knew it would take time to recover.
“But what of the delay to our own plans for the King and the kingdom?”
“We are not ready to move right now anyway. The king still commands forces that are loyal to him. If Ulric ultimately fails, we want enough of our own people in place to make the coup as bloodless as possible, at least to the citizens. Jarvin and his ilk are another matter.”
“How much longer shall we allow Ulric to ready himself to make his bid for the crown before we must write him off as a failure and move in ourselves?”
“Not long, another year, perhaps two will give us enough time to judge Ulric’s chances of success or failure and to shore up our own position in the interim.”
“What of the reports of the recently dead rising?”
“Fanciful tales from peasants most likely, but we can use them to our gain regardless of their veracity. Casually spread the word that it is likely the result of having a bastard sit the throne. After all, the King represents the land and if his blood is impure, it surely taints the land as well.
“Very well then gentlemen, all glory to the sun god.