The Sorcerer's Vengeance (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  “Not my children!” the ghostly image of the woman shouted in rage.

  The sudden appearance of the furious apparition stopped the attackers in their tracks, some of them jumping back so suddenly they tumbled backwards, knocking down several of the men behind them.

  “Get out!” the banshee shrieked, the sound of her voice empowered with rage and the pain of her ancient loss.

  The shout washed over the men on the stairs like a tidal wave, tearing weapons from hands as they were blasted off the stairs and over the heads of those down below.

  “Get out! You will not hurt my children!” she shrieked as ghostly tears streaked down her anguished face.

  Hearts froze with fear and the hair turned pure white on the men further away or partially shielded by those in the front. Again and again the banshee turned her killing voice against the men who dared threaten her home and children once again. She failed to protect her children in life and she refused to fail them in death.

  The ethereal lady shrieked her rage until nothing living moved within the reception hall. Outside, the dying sounds of battle made their way through the sundered doors and up the stairs of the eerily silent hall. The Lady floated up before Ellyssa and reached out a tentative hand toward the young girl. Ellyssa’s breath began to fog as the air around her instantly froze.

  “Thank you,” Ellyssa said quietly.

  The Lady of the Tower touched a single lock of Ellyssa’s hair. Her already blond hair took on a pure silver streak, mirroring the one on the other side of her head where the spirit had touched her the first time they had met. With a smile mixed with joy and sorrow, the Lady sank back into the stairs and disappeared once more.

  Azerick, Allister, Wolf, and Ghost ran toward the citadel. Azerick conjured a gate that opened atop the wall next to the colossal stone blocks that blocked the entrance. The sorcerer let the other three pass through before he joined them on the wall to see how the battle progressed.

  It did not look good. There were scores of mercenaries lying dead in the streets and courtyard. Dozens of panicked, riderless horses trod on the wounded as well as the corpses, seeking a way out of the killing zone. A huge number of men were swarming into the near-defenseless keep in a tide of murderous frenzy. Still more were gaining a foothold onto the rooftops where they fired their arrows at the defenders on the other roofs or engaged them in hand-to-hand combat.

  Rusty and the senior apprentices were killing men like a farmer scything down wheat stalks, but it was not enough to keep the roofs free of the enemy. A powerful explosion rocked the tower from within.

  “That would be your apprentice if I were to hazard a guess,” Allister said as he looked about the chaos.

  A crack of lightning quickly followed the explosion. “Roger and Missy as well,” Azerick returned. “We need to defend the roofs and stem that flow going into the keep. The gods only know how many are already inside but there are too many outside in mortal danger.”

  “Don’t worry, lad, Aggie can defend that roof for some time yet,” Allister assured him.

  Azerick was still concerned for his apprentice. Knowing her as he did, he doubted that she would be out of harm’s way on the roof with the formidable wizard. The sorcerer raised a thick mass of stone spikes just outside the foyer, damming up the flow of human bodies trying to press into the tower and brutally impaling those in the lead.

  Allister sent a massive fireball into the crowd of mercenaries that suddenly found their passage into the tower blocked. The archmage then sent single target spells against the men who were too close to friends or too loosely packed together to be economical.

  Wolf snatched a handful of arrows from a small barrel set at the top of the wall, dropped them in his quiver, and used the remaining ones from the barrel to fire at those below and on the roofs. Shot after shot found the vulnerable flesh of a mercenary. Ghost bounded down the stairs and disappeared into the shadows of the buildings. A loud snarl, a scream of terror and pain, and an occasional flash of black fur was the only sign of Ghost they saw.

  Azerick was amazed at the young half-elf’s uncanny skill with his hunting bow but had no time to waste in appreciation. He too was busy picking off attackers with lightning and magical bolts of energy as they gained the rooftops.

  The throng of mercenaries was greatly beginning to thin out under the relentlessness of the defenders when an inhuman, ear-piercing shriek cut through the courtyard. Everyone, attacker and defender alike, dropped their weapons and clapped their hands over their assaulted ears. All sounds of battle abruptly ceased. Only the frightened whinnies of the horses and Ghost’s piercing howl could be heard next to the deafeningly shrill cry. Several more times the crippling shout rang out over the courtyard, dropping the people nearest to the tower to their knees.

  Then there was silence. Only the sounds of the horses’ nervous whickering and the crying out of wounded humans could be heard above the ringing of everyone’s ears. The defenders quickly stooped to recover their weapons as well as did a few of the mercenaries, but the invaders quickly dropped them to the ground, no longer in the mood to continue the fight. Not one man wanted to face more of the punishing magical assaults again. After that awful keening, none had the heart to do battle in this accursed place any longer.

  After dropping their weapons, the surviving mercenaries went to their knees in total supplication as the young men and women bound their hands behind them with whatever length of thong or cord they could find, including their own bootlaces and the laces of their captives. Jansen, bloodied and exhausted from engaging numerous opponents, ordered every captive relieved of weapons and boots before they secured them in one of the thick timbered classrooms. Azerick and the others would deal with them later.

  Azerick and Allister ran down the steps to the ground while Wolf went in search of Ghost. “Allister, go get Aggie and the apprentices and have them meet me in front of the stables.”

  The old wizard did not bother to reply, simply nodded, and headed into the charnel house that was once a rather grand reception hall, and bounded up the stairs. He told the older children atop the stairs to go meet Azerick at the stables in passing. Sandy followed the apprentices out of the tower, hissing at a few of the corpses that covered the floor.

  They found Azerick striding toward the stables and ran to meet him, glad to see that he was all right. Azerick noticed Sandy first but did not see the scratch on her side. He was too preoccupied with affecting the rest of his plan at the moment.

  “Peck!” Azerick called out as he approached the stables.

  The short stableboy came out of the stables at a run, a spear gripped in his hands, and a leather hauberk slung over his narrow shoulders. Peck had refused to leave the horses for the safety of the tower even when it became obvious that the mercenaries were going to breach the gates.

  “Yes, Master Azerick?” Peck shouted before he came to a halt just before the sorcerer.

  “I need every horse in the stable saddled and ready to go,” Azerick instructed the boy.

  Peck’s freckled face broke into a wide grin. “Already done, milord. I figured once you was done tossing this bit of scum out you’d be wantin’ ta go and drive off the rest of them what’s beatin’ on the city walls.”

  Peck’s exuberance pierced Azerick’s fatigue and foul mood. “Excellent work, Peck. In that case, grab some help, round up the rest of these horses, and secure them in the paddock before hitching up a team to reopen the gates,” Azerick directed with small grin of his own.

  “Aye, milord, straight away,” Peck replied with quick salute and ran off after the mercenaries’ remaining forfeited mounts.

  “What are we going to do now, Azerick?” Ellyssa asked as they came up behind him.

  Azerick turned and faced the small group. “I’ll explain everything when everyone else gets here. Is everyone all right?”

  They all said they were fine. Ellyssa told him about how the spirit had killed all of the mercenaries that made it into the k
eep. It was then that Azerick noticed the wound on Sandy’s side.

  “Sandy, you are bleeding!” Azerick exclaimed with concern and knelt beside her to examine it more closely.

  “It is only a scratch. It takes far more than a puny human with a sword to do any real damage to a sand dragon. We are a very resilient species,” she said proudly.

  “You should at least get it cleaned out as soon as you can.”

  Sandy did not argue. She had quickly found out that the big, warm bathtub was almost as good as lying in warm sand, but not quite.

  Alex, Jansen, and Rusty quickly approached from the direction of the classrooms while Allister was just now exiting the keep with Aggie and the rest of the children. Many of the children were crying and being comforted by several of the women.

  The entire reception hall was littered with corpses and the courtyard was not much better. These were not clean kills like those made by arrows or simple stab wounds. Magic had been used; powerful magic that had torn men asunder and charred their flesh and the smell was every bit as awful as the visual. This was something that was going to affect them for a long time. Azerick only prayed that the resiliency of childhood would be strong enough to see them through it.

  “All right, lad, I think this is most of us. What do you have in mind?” Allister asked gruffly.

  Azerick took a deep breath then explained his plan. “I want Rusty, Allister, the senior apprentices, Ellyssa, and Roger to ride with me to North Haven where we will strike the enemy in their rear or flank. I also want Alex, Jansen, and any other fighting men we have to ride with us in case we run into a situation that requires some sword work.”

  “Leaving me to baby sit again, are you?” Aggie complained. “What’s the matter, afraid the old broad can’t still hurl a fireball or two?”

  “No, Aggie, quite the opposite. I am strongly debating whether to take you with us or not. I would greatly appreciate the formidable magic you wield, but I have to consider those that are left behind. If we fail to break the siege, then you all will have to flee, possibly all the way to Brelland. I would feel much better knowing that they will have at least one powerful spell caster to protect them along the way if the rest of us do not make it back.”

  “Roger and Ellyssa are just children. You should leave them with the others to stay here.”

  Azerick shook his head. “They are also the two most talented students we have and I need every mage that can cast a spell, use a wand, or read a scroll if I hope to break this siege.”

  Aggie looked at the two young students and saw the look on their faces that reflected their willingness to fight and chose not to argue.

  “Wolf, I want you to lead them east through the woods, then south to Brelland if you do not get a signal from us by nightfall. In fact, I want you all to load up with food, clothes, and blankets and go hide in the East Woods. If you do not hear from one of us before sundown, make for Brelland. We fought only a handful of their total force here. We will be facing several times as many at North Haven and with even fewer people and no walls to hide behind nor rooftops to shield us.”

  “That’s all right, lad, I have been saving my best for last,” Allister replied with a wink.

  “Aggie, if you want to come with us, you are more than welcome. I will leave Ellyssa and Roger to go with the others. I have enough wands and scrolls that they should be able to deter most anyone or anything that may threaten them.”

  Aggie pondered the situation for a moment. “I don’t like the idea of those two children riding into that mess, but a journey like that is going to take more than just magic and wands. They’re going to need someone that’s been around a while. You can’t get wisdom and experience out of a wand or from a scroll. Besides, it’s been a long while since I’ve ridden a horse and I’m not sure my old bones are up to it.”

  Allister opened his mouth to reply to that last comment but Aggie saw the twinkle in his eye and shut him down before he could say a word.

  “Shut your mouth, you old goat, before I stuff your beard in it!”

  “All right then. Rusty, make sure everyone going with us has at least one wand with several charges in it. Aggie, have Agnes start packing food and water and equip the rest of the students who are capable of wielding them with whatever wands and scrolls remain.”

  Azerick grabbed Rusty by the arm before he ran off. “You may want to take a minute to say goodbye to Colleen and the babes before we go, just in case.”

  Rusty swallowed hard and mutely nodded his head.

  “Azerick, there is something else you should know,” Jansen said as everyone went about their business. “I took a minute to question a few of the soldiers we captured. Not all of them are mercenaries. A few are soldiers under Duke Ulric’s command. They said he sent them to augment the mercenary forces. Then, when they took North Haven they were to sneak away to rejoin Ulric as he led another force north to ‘drive out’ the invaders.

  “Ulric does not have a lot of troops left to him, mainly conscripts and men he hired, but he has over a thousand men of his own here who will be joining back up with him once the city falls. He has a similar plan in mind with the ships that are blockading the harbor. Several of those will sail out to be joined by a few more sailing north and make it look like he defeated the sea forces as well.”

  Azerick shook his head trying to decipher the meaning of such an audacious plan but came up blank. “Why would he go through all this?”

  Alex spoke up. “It’s obvious when you think about it. By rescuing North Haven he can insinuate himself on the populace. North Haven is the last major city that supports the king and is hostile to him. He is already being hailed a hero in the southern lands and Brightridge. He could not only demand Miranda’s hand in marriage as the cost of her rescue, thus increasing his influence and power, but also label the king as weak and ineffective at protecting his own people. He could demand the crown and take it by force if necessary. All he would have to do is march these mercenaries under his banner and no one would know the difference.”

  Azerick suspected that Duke Ulric’s complicity went deeper than that. He could have started this campaign years ago, but this plan of creating and solving a national crisis to take the crown by point of virtue and heroism was wrought with pitfalls. So many things could have gone wrong and had him branded as a traitor instead of a hero.

  He was probably the one that wanted Dundalor’s armor all along. Ulric had probably spent the last several years trying to get it. The mercenary option would cost him a fortune, so using the armor to secure the throne was the better strategy at the time. It only cost him time.

  But something went wrong. Someone double-crossed him. Was it the Black Tower or was it Baneford? Azerick’s father had been murdered in Ulric’s prison. Ulric was the one that sought the armor, but the king’s men found out about the piece his father had. Ulric then hired the Rook to kill his father.

  Ulric was responsible for his parents’ death, for Azerick’s homelessness, Delinda’s death, and every tragedy in his life. Duke Ulric and his schemes had put in motion the events that caused every heartache and loss Azerick has ever suffered.

  “That is good to know. I will deal with the duke later. Right now the city needs us.”

  ***

  Kayne sat atop his mount with a company of his cavalry watching as his trebuchets pounded the walls and flattened buildings just inside the city. Huge rents were already evident and a group of his men were fighting furiously to penetrate one of the breaches. It would not be much longer until his trebuchets battered more holes in the wall, then nothing would stop his men from getting into the city. His ram crew had destroyed the portcullis and the thick gates sported several deep cracks.

  A thousand men were packed beneath the wall guarding the ram from counterattack. The defenders had tried to use oil and fire to burn the ram and large stones to stave in its roof, but the wards the wizards had put in place were holding up well against the abuse and it was so far largel
y unaffected.

  Scores of men lay dead beneath the wall and around the breach, victims of boiling oil, arrows, and dropped stones, but his archers had advanced and were doing a good job of keeping the defenders’ heads down and all but neutralized the threat they posed to the exposed soldiers beneath the wall.

  Kayne was almost deliriously happy with the results. He had been involved in a few sieges in the past and knew they could last weeks or even months, but he doubted that North Haven would be able to keep his forces out for more than a few days, and that was granting them a great deal. They simply were not prepared for this sort of warfare. Their soldiers were unprepared and their walls were weak to the point of being pathetic.

  He turned at the sight of horses out of the corner of his eye approaching from the northeast. Ah, this must be my men coming to inform me that the tower has been taken, he thought as they rode near.

  He hoped the three wizards were among them. He thought he could see the flapping of robes amongst the riders. Perhaps they can use their magic to hasten the breaching of the walls and gate.

  Kayne watched the approaching riders with mounting confusion. Why are they riding toward the archers and cavalry instead of my command element?

  Kayne quickly realized what was happening when the first fireball shattered a huge section of his massed archers, slaying scores of them with a single stroke. Within the inferno, Kayne saw his and Ulric’s plans unraveling. Magical destruction began raining down upon his men. Each blast of lightning and every fire burst was like a death stroke cutting into his flesh.

  ***

  Captain Brague paced the battlements, shouting orders to his men, and cursing those below the wall. The jingling of bells chiming with every stomp of his boot and shaking of his fist punctuated each outburst. Between his shouting and cursing he cast nervous glances at the assembled riders a short ways down the street.

  Despite his vehement protests, Duchess Mellina sat atop her snow-white charger resplendent in her pale blue and white enameled plate armor. The duchess looked every bit the ice queen she was affectionately referred to as among the people of North Haven. Surrounded by her personal guard, she sat impassively, studying the situation at the wall. Only her deep blue eyes betrayed the fury that lay just below the frigid surface.