The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) (8 page)

“Please, do not make me hurt you!” Azerick begged as the lightning strikes abated.

If Sandy was able to comprehend Azerick’s words, she showed no sign of being able to comply with them. The dragon hissed out words in her draconic language and the ground beneath Azerick’s feet turned to silt, enveloping him almost to his neck before solidifying and trapping him in a stony embrace.

The enraged dragon reared back, wreathed her mighty paws in eldritch power, and prepared to pounce. As she flexed her haunches in preparation of rending Azerick’s head from his shoulders, a brilliant gold and silver ray struck Sandy in the side with enough force to throw her into a nearby building, collapsing its entire western wall and a large portion of the roof. Sandy burst from the rubble with a furious roar and breathed a colossal column of fire at Raijaun. Raijaun shielded himself from the flames and intense heat and braced himself as Sandy launched herself at him.

The ground exploded around Azerick as he thrust himself into the air with a beat of his demonic wings. The transformed sorcerer flew at Sandy, wrapped his arms and legs around her neck, and held on tightly. Sandy roared and flung her head about in an attempt to dislodge her attacker. Arcane energy crackled all over her body, wreathing herself in a sparking aura of power.

Azerick gritted his teeth against the burning pain and hissed, “Forgive me,” as he slammed an open hand against Sandy’s head and sent a powerful burst of magic straight into her brain.

Sandy instantly slumped to the ground and lay motionless. Only the barely perceptible rise and fall of her thick midriff gave a sign of life. Azerick rolled to his feet and shifted back into his preferred form. Raijaun’s shoulders slumped with fatigue as he dropped his ward and stepped toward Sandy and his father.

“What happened, Father?”

Azerick took several deep breaths to steady his voice as his emotions threatened to tear it and his heart apart. “The Scions have managed to breach the barrier and send part of their consciousness into our world to ready the dragons for their arrival.”

“Does that mean the Scions are free? Has the invasion begun?”

“I do not think so. The dragons have all but vanished from our lands. I think most fled to faraway places after the Great Revolution. They will require time to organize and perhaps strengthen themselves before the battle begins. The Scions continue to strategically place their pieces upon the board before striking. Are you all right?”

Raijaun nodded. “I was not quite ready to expend so much energy so soon, but I am well. What of Sandy?”

Azerick looked to her and forced his eyes to staunch the tears welling up. “She is stunned and will remain so until I wake her. At least I hope so.”

“Can you help her?”

Azerick thought for a full minute before answering. “I think so. Can you transport her to the laboratory?” Raijaun nodded. “I will need you to check the barrier while I am gone.”

“Where are you going? Why now?”

“Jarvin needs a stick with which to beat his lords into submission.”

“How long will you be?”

“Not nearly as long as I had first anticipated. This changes many things, my patience for stupidity paramount among them. Get Sandy to lab and check the barrier. If the Scions have indeed broken through, you know what to do.”

“Yes, Father.”

Azerick sliced the air with his magic, opening a portal to bisect time and space. Stepping through, he appeared just before the east gates allowing admittance to the merchant district. Two wizards from his school appeared from inside a small guardhouse built to watch over the gates when their magical use was required. At least a dozen armored men stood watch and controlled the gates for their more mundane usage.

“Prepare the gate,” Azerick ordered as he strode toward them.

The two wizards exchanged glances over Azerick’s unusually abrupt command but hastened to obey. The man and woman laid their hands upon the two pillars framing the wide gates and began channeling power into them. The guards ordered everyone approaching to stay clear as the wizards worked their magic. The guards needed little in the way of prodding as the runes inscribed upon the tall monoliths began to glow with eldritch light. Within moments, a shimmering screen stretched between the two columns before resolving itself into the landscape of Brelland’s primary gate.

Three mages stood prepared on Brelland’s side, alerted of the gate’s activation by the obelisks at their end. Scores of ordinary citizens were quickly moving away from the gate while others stepped a short distance away and gawked. Azerick stepped through the portal without hesitation but paused on the distant end as vertigo washed over him. He sympathized with the ordinary humans for the effect traveling through the gate would have on them if even he felt such a strong sense of disorientation. He brushed aside his dizziness as well as his pity. He had no time for either of them.

Azerick appreciated the obvious militarization of the city. Barricades, racks of weapons, and cisterns of water were visible even this near the gates. Soldiers and conscripts marched through the streets, keeping them clear of anyone not gainfully employed. He was certain those preparations grew even greater the closer one got to the city’s center where three more magical gates stood to evacuate the city when it too came under siege. However, he did not have the time to spare to inspect them. Tearing open another portal, Azerick stepped to the inner gates leading to Castle Stonemount.

Despite having been warned of his impending arrival, the score of guards watching over the castle gate jumped and fumbled for weapons when he appeared. The men regained their composure and opened the walkthrough gate so the sorcerer could pass without further challenge. The officer of the guard saluted as Azerick approached.

“I need you to send a runner to the castle and inform the seneschal or His Highness directly of my arrival. I hope the council has already gathered, but if they haven’t, it is in their best interest to make haste. I have very little time to dally about.”

“Yes, milord!” the guard officer responded crisply.

The man shouted for a courier, and a boy of no more than fourteen years, wearing a too-big set of light armor with a short sword belted around his waist ran up. The gate officer relayed Azerick’s order. The boy took off at a sprint and quickly vanished. The soldier saluted once more as Azerick walked unhurriedly toward the castle. He could easily step there using another portal, but he wanted the council notified and assembled before he arrived.

The doors to the castle opened for him as he approached. Aaron Barker, Jarvin’s steward, stood waiting for his arrival wearing his robes of state.

“Lord Giles, His Majesty and the council is assembled and awaiting your arrival,” he said as Azerick approached.

“What is it that requires my immediate attention?” Azerick asked without breaking stride.

“A conflict has arisen between His Majesty and Lord Atwater. Lord Atwater controls a large area between Brightridge and Argoth and has close ties with Duchess Paulina. Much of his land encompasses the agricultural regions of the Habberback plains, which are vital to the kingdom’s food production and distribution. Due to his vast wealth and plentiful food supply, he has assembled one of the largest individual armies outside of Brelland or Brightridge.”

Azerick’s face soured as he considered the implications. No single lord would have been allowed to assemble such a large force under normal circumstances for fear of usurpation. But with the mandated conscriptions and massive war effort, those restrictions were removed.

“What does he want, more land, titles, his own duchy?” Azerick asked. “Jarvin should offer him nothing more than five feet of rope and a six-foot drop.”

“As well he would, only Lord Atwater’s argument is held with measured support by others. You see, a vast army out of Sumara has appeared just across the border near Argoth. Duchess Paulina has moved the bulk of her forces to block the pass, but given the size of the Sumaran army, she could hold it for only a matter of weeks at best. Lord Atwater is even now marshaling his troops to march to Paulina’s aid. Only Jarvin’s insistence in holding this quorum has held them in place.”

As ridiculous as the situation was, Azerick understood both positions. Valeria and Sumara were longtime bitter rivals and frequently in conflict. The southern provinces in particular would view any incursion into Valerian territory a hostile act no matter the assurances of Sumaran diplomats or even their own King. Jarvin would have to mobilize a superior army to force Lord Atwater to obey, but he could not get them south before the renegade lord merged his troops with those of Duchess Paulina’s, leaving the heart of Valeria nearly defenseless against the impending invasion.

Jarvin needed a stick to beat some sense into his wavering nobles, and that stick was Azerick. Azerick’s anger only mounted as he strode down the corridors to the audience hall, and the chamberlain had to nearly jog to keep pace. He was tired of the pettiness, tired of being the voice of reason, and tired of seeing his friends and family suffer. One of his sons was lost to him, possibly forever. His other son was in a state of exhaustion and agony from using his power to try and protect a people that would likely never fully accept him, and now Sandy lay in a state of unconsciousness from which she may never be allowed to awaken.

Aaron hurried into the audience chamber to announce Azerick’s imminent arrival, knowing the sorcerer would not wait outside for a single moment. The steward barely had time to speak his words before Azerick strode into the hall like a dark cloud moments from becoming a fierce storm. He took only a moment to survey those in attendance. He recognized several of the attending lords as well as The Academy Headmaster and a handful of senior wizards.

“Wonderful, Jarvin’s dog is here to bark at us,” a man declared vocally.

“Lord Atwater, allow us to conduct this meeting with civility,” Jarvin admonished from atop his throne.

“You speak of civility while Sumara marches on our borders, and then you bring in your thug to bully me into compliance like he has done so many times before. Not this time!”

“No one is here to bully anyone,” Jarvin assured the agitated lord. “Lord Giles is here to apprise us of the current situation so we may make intelligent decisions based upon fact and not emotions brought about by old prejudices. Azerick, how stands our current situation?”

“Poorly and getting worse,” Azerick answered. “The Scions breached the barrier in a manner that allowed them to take command of the dragons.”

“Have they escaped then? Are they on the march now?” Jarvin asked.

“I do not think so. This happened just before I departed North Haven, and I have not had a chance to inspect their prison because I am here dealing with this. Only recently is my son able to get out of bed due to the agony using his power causes him, and I just put down one of my dearest friends, but I cannot help any of them right now because I have to settle the squabbles of children! People are suffering and dying for all our welfare, including yours, but you still cannot see past your own insignificant existence.”

Lord Atwater snorted derisively. “Dragons, yet more of your nonsense. Several times my army, and others, have fought these creatures you claim belong to some ancient gods, and each time we defeated them handily. You once asked us what you would gain by having us build up our defenses. We only need look across Argoth’s border for the answer to that. Oh, you were quite clever and very convincing, Lord Giles. Creating this fiasco so that we all build up armies so no one questions the power you are amassing was a stroke of brilliance. Your friends in Sumara attack us from the south while your army strikes from the north eliminating any further resistance to your plans of conquest. And do not think I don’t know about this magic well of yours, all to increase your power so you can make yourself king. You have even managed to create a navy with your ships and your son’s pirates.”

“My son captured three of my ships and took the crew hostage,” Azerick responded tersely, “and the Source pool aides all who can channel magic.”

“But none as much as you.” Lord Atwater turned his eyes to Headmaster Florent. “Am I right, Headmaster?”

“From what little I know of such a thing, your argument appears correct.”

“You may have the King and others fooled or cowed, but not me! I will not stand idly by while you march your foreign friends into my kingdom. Nor will I allow anyone to take what is mine. I bought my army with my gold, and I will use it as I see fit. They will march south and drive those desert dwellers back from whence they came. If the King wishes to hand over the crown to you then so be it, but do not expect me toss in my gold or lands as well.”

“This is your final word on the matter? Think well, Lord Atwater,” Azerick said, his voice as cold as a grave carved in the ice of the northern wastes.

“I have thought well and given my answer. Do not think to intimidate me, sorcerer. I am here under the King’s protection and sworn word of safe passage.”

“You, all of you, are fools if you think anyone can promise safety in these times.”

Azerick thrust his staff at the nobleman. A black and silver ray lanced out of the arcanum sphere, struck the surprised man in the chest, hurled him from his seat, and pressed him against the wall fifteen feet above the assembled crowd. Several people cried out and made to race from the room. With his free hand, Azerick struck them all down with an invisible wall of force carrying the strength of an ocean wave.

An acrid smoke filled the room as Azerick’s abyssal beam destroyed Lord Atwater’s body and turned it into something unrecognizable. Azerick ignored several protests and even the ringing of armor and swords being drawn as guardsmen rushed into the room and formed a defensive wall around their King. When the arcane assault finally ended, nothing of the rebellious lord remained except for a black silhouette permanently scorched into the marble.

“Lord Giles, cease this at once!” Jarvin shouted above the tumult. “What have you done?” he asked when Azerick finally acknowledged his protests.