“Hey, Rusty, what are you going to set on fire this year? Maybe this time it will be your hair, not that anyone would notice,” came a snide remark from behind Azerick.
“What do you want, Travis?” Rusty asked, suddenly looking ill at ease.
Azerick looked over his shoulder at the newcomer. He was About Azerick’s age, dressed in a fine robe of blue silk with the cuffs and hem bordered in black. Strange designs and sigils sewn into the silk with silver thread adorned it. Of course he was not alone, bullies never are. He was backed up by three more richly-dressed, but not quite so gaudy, boys about the same age.
“You bringing in strays now, Rusty?” Travis taunted, looking down his nose at Azerick.
“Do you have some kind of problem with me?” Azerick asked as he got to his feet.
“I have a problem dining with peasants whose only business here should be mucking out the stables," Travis sneered.
“Azerick, just ignore them. You don’t want to get into it with them.”
“Yes, stableboy, you don’t want that, I assure you.”
“You should be glad I’m here. I did just come from the stables, and you should be happy to know that I gave your mother a good brushing and a nice bag of oats. I heard she was a good ride, but I'm not sure if they meant under a saddle or under the sheets,” Azerick fired back.
“You…how dare you! I’ll kill you!” the enraged young man sputtered as he withdrew a wand from his robes and pointed it at Azerick. “Take back those words this instant, or so help me I’ll kill you where you stand!”
“Azerick, do it, take it back!” Rusty cried in panic.
“Pfft, with a stick? You’re not even holding it properly. Here, let me show you how to use it.”
Travis glanced down at his wand, and in that split second, Azerick’s hand snaked out in a flash and snatched the rod way. Travis looked up, prepared to demand his property back when Azerick struck out and slapped him hard across the face with it. The bully, now on the defensive, raised a hand to cover the stinging welt already beginning to form on his face only to receive its twin on the other side by an equally swift backhand blow.
Travis lunged at the commoner who dared strike him in an attempt to retrieve his wand. Azerick ducked a shoulder and drove him back into two of his friends standing behind him. The third member of Travis’ gang rushed forward. Azerick turned and lunged for the table, scooped up the heavy, wooden tray, and cracked it across the boy’s forehead.
The boy flew backward into a pair of spectators seated at the table behind him, knocking them over onto their table and upsetting their trays. The rich boy and two of his cohorts were back up and charging. Azerick jumped onto his table, ready to defend his high ground when a booming voice resounded across the dining hall.
“That is enough!”
Azerick and all four of his tormentors found themselves suspended above the tables and benches. Travis continued to curse and threaten him. Azerick reached down, scooped up a baked potato, and hurled it, striking him between the eyes.
“I said that was enough! What is the meaning of this?” demanded a man in robes.
“Magus Morgarum, he stole my wand and hit me with it—twice. He also he hit me in the face with a potato, shoved me, and hit Thad in the face with a tray. He must be thrown off the grounds immediately!” Travis demanded.
“The Headmaster decides who attends this school, Apprentice Beaumonte, not you. What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded of Azerick.
“I was just defending myself.”
“We’ll see about that.” Whatever force was keeping them suspended ceased and sent all five plummeting onto the floor and tabletops.
The five students soon found themselves standing before Headmaster Dondrian. He wore the typical wizard garb Azerick had seen most of the other mages wear about campus. His robes were a rich silver with mystic symbols and runes stitched in black silk thread. He was mostly bald, what hair he had was in a two-inch strip running from one ear and wrapping around to the other, and starting to grey at the temples. His lips were a bright red like someone had created them by slashing a blade across solid flesh and carried a sheen do to his constant habit of licking them. He sat quietly during each boy’s telling of the events within the dining hall until he felt he had heard everything he needed to hear.
“Young master Azerick is here at the request of our own Magus Allister. Regardless of his background or social standing, you and the other students will afford him the same courtesies as every other student. I will not tolerate the hazing of any student for any reason whether they are new or of a lesser social class,” Headmaster Dondrian calmly chastised.
“Yes, Headmaster, I’m sorry. We were just having fun with a new student is all, and I guess we got carried away. What about my wand?”
“You know wands like that are dangerous and expressly forbidden to be owned or possessed by students. I will give it back to you when you return to your home for spring festival. You and your friends may go. Azerick, please stay here a moment.”
Azerick steeled himself against the rebuke he knew was coming and prayed they would not throw him out of the school on his first day.
“Azerick, as I told the other boys, you are here at the request of, and as a personal favor to, Magus Allister. I hope you realize how great an opportunity he has granted you.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Then you must conduct yourself as such. You are not on the streets anymore. You are attending one of the most prestigious institutions in the kingdom, and you will conduct yourself appropriately. Your actions are a direct reflection not only upon yourself but also upon the man who argued quite strongly for your presence here. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Headmaster.”
“Then you may go, and remember what I said.”
I’ll remember what you said, but if you think I’m going to let a bunch of puffed up nobles run roughshod over me you are sorely mistaken. Academy and Allister be damned, Azerick fumed as he stalked down the stone halls of The Academy.
He had just entered the hall leading to his room when Travis and his friends stepped out of an alcove, blocking his path.
“Don’t think this is over, peasant. You made a big mistake and a powerful enemy. If you knew who my father was, you would know they can never throw me out of The Academy, but they’ll toss your low-born butt right back into whatever gutter Allister dragged you out of.”
“I really don’t care who your father is. If I’m pressed, I’ll defend myself. It would be a whole lot better if you just left me alone.”
“Better watch your back, poor boy,” Travis warned as he and his friends walked away.
“I can’t believe you did that!” Rusty exclaimed when Azerick entered the room they shared. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen; stupid but incredible. No one has ever stood up to them like that before.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ve stood up to a lot scarier guys than them before.”
“Still, you better watch out. They pick on almost everybody. With what you did to them today, and being poor, they’re going to be after you.”
“I’ll be careful. I’m not afraid of them, but I don’t want to get kicked out of school either. It has been a dream of mine almost as long as I can remember. Travis said no one could kick him out of The Academy. Why can he get away with so much?”
“His father is Duke Ulric’s Cousin. I don’t know what that makes him, but whenever he gets in any kind of trouble, his father is able to fix it and he’s back in a day or two. Eventually, they just stopped punishing him for most things, but don’t worry, I’ll help you keep an eye out for them as best I can. Will you show me your alchemic set?” Rusty begged.
“Sure, I’ll show you how to make that super flammable oil. I call it dragon’s breath. Luckily, I still have a little of the distillates left otherwise we’d be spending the entire night watching the base ingredients cook.”
Azerick used the
few ingredients he had left to make a small batch of the combustible mixture and showed it off by setting it alight in a small glass the size of a shot glass. The glass got so hot it shattered, and the liquid flame spread out on the small metal plate on which it was sitting and continued to burn, causing the metal to glow orange before finally consuming itself and going out. The two boys stayed up late into the night as Rusty told Azerick about the school and classes, and he taught Rusty a little about life on the street.
Azerick woke with the rising of the sun. Rusty did not wake until the first morning bells started ringing an hour later. The dining hall was filled with chaotic chatter but instantly became more directed when Azerick walked in. Hundreds of eyes followed him and Rusty as they took their morning meal. They had about an hour to themselves after breakfast before the first class started, so Rusty gave Azerick a quick tour of the grounds before leaving to attend his classes.
Azerick’s first day of school consisted of taking a multitude of tests to determine what he was proficient in and what classes he would have to take to catch up. He scored well in reading, mathematics, alchemy, and basic history and was placed in those classes with students near his own age.
However, he had virtually no education regarding the history of magic, magic theory, the principles of magic, or applied magic and would have to be placed in classes with other beginning students. This meant he would be sitting in class with children half his age, and that thought made him feel more than a little awkward.
The first day of class, he proved to be something of a distraction. The younger children were unable to contain their sniggering and seemed to pay far more attention to the older boy in their midst than to the teacher. Azerick, however, paid strict attention to all of his instructors, wanting to absorb as much knowledge as quickly as he could.
It took only a few days for Travis and his friends to find out he was in class with the younger kids. They often found him in the hall between sessions and went out of their way to mock him. Azerick ignored their jibes and taunts for the most part. Mere words were not sufficient to cause him distraction or risk jeopardizing his attendance.
Azerick had hoped by ignoring them they would grow bored and give up on trying to provoke him, but it went on for the next several months until one day they came into the classroom while the instructor was out. They had never followed him into the classroom before, and he instantly fell ill at ease.
“Listen up, you little twerps, and peasant. It’s going to be winter festival, and you know what that means and what will happen if you don’t bring us what we want,” Travis announced and left with his entourage in tow.
All the younger children started talking and grumbling about how mean Travis and his friends were. Azerick turned to one of the boys in his class. “What were they talking about?”
“Those mean boys make us bring back all of our candy from winter festival and give them almost all of it. If we don’t, then they’ll tease us and make our lives miserable. Some kids even get beat up. I wish we were as big as them, then we could beat them up and they couldn’t take our candy,” said Gerard, clenching his small fists.
Azerick knew this had nothing to do with candy. It was about power and tribute. It was about recognizing authority and grooming those beneath you to stay subservient. It was how the few hundred guild thieves were able to oppress and extort the thousands of homeless and shopkeepers. The school was his home now, and the young people in this classroom were his extended family. He saw what happened when thugs were left unchecked, and he would not allow it to happen again.
Azerick stood up and turned to the class. “Listen up everyone; you don’t have to be big to defend yourselves. I have fought people a lot bigger than me and won. What you need to do is stick together. I know if you all work together you can defend yourselves against them and any bullies you come across.”
“But they’re really big and mean, and they know more magic than we do. We can’t fight them,” one of the girls cried out.
“Have you ever seen anyone get chased by bees before?” Several kids nodded. “Bees are small, so why do you run from them?”
“Because they can sting you, and there are usually a lot of them,” Gerard said.
“Exactly, just like there are a lot of you, and I can teach you how to sting them just like those bees.”
“How?”
“This is our home, and it will be our battlefield. We know the terrain, and we can prepare it to our advantage. Travis and his thugs fight for power and sheer pettiness, but we fight for our home and our friends, and that makes us more dangerous than any threat they try to levy.”
Azerick explained to the younger students what he had in mind. He worked with them over the next several days, practicing what they needed to know in order to defend each other against Travis and any other people who picked on them. They snuck out to the training grounds during free time and had secret meetings and practice sessions in the school’s many unused rooms and corridors.
Azerick returned to his room after one of his after class practices and found Rusty already there. He flopped down onto his bed and draped his arm across his eyes in hopes of relieving the headache he felt coming on.
“Are you going to the winter festival tomorrow, Azerick?”
“I guess so, it should be a nice change of pace, and the fresh air will help me clear my head,” Azerick answered.
“How are your studies coming along? Still having trouble with some of the spells?”
“Yeah, the cantrips were easy, and I picked up on some of the lower level wizard spells, but anything even a little tougher than those I just don’t seem to get. I understand what they are trying to teach me, but it just does not make any sense to me. I’m starting to think Magus Allister was wrong about me,” Azerick lamented.
“I’m sure you’ll get it. Some people get hung up for a while then everything just kind of clicks and they take off again. You have already learned more in the last four months than I did in my first year.”
“I hope you’re right.”
It bothered Azerick a lot that he may not be cut out for the Magus Academy after all. He felt like he was letting down Magus Allister. But the old wizard assured him he was doing just fine and that he had faith in him and his potential. The old mage came by to check on him from time to time and even tutored him when he was having trouble with a particular spell.
Despite his reassuring words, the roadblock Azerick seemed to have reached concerned Allister. Ordinarily, he would not have considered this a problem given Azerick’s lack of experience. Nevertheless, he had been learning so quickly in the beginning, and being able to disable the ward he cast on his door he had expected him to come along much faster.
Maybe I am just expecting too much this soon, the wizard thought.
Rusty and Azerick went out the next day to the winter festival. Since Azerick had no money, Rusty bought them pastries and grilled sausages they ate on a stick. They watched jugglers, acrobats, and men walking above the crowd on stilts ten feet high throwing candies and sweets to the children below. Twice Azerick saved Rusty’s coin pouch from a couple of petty cutpurses. After the second attempt, Azerick convinced Rusty to let him carry the money.
As the day started turning into evening, the thousands of people crowding the streets began to flow like a river; a massive current of bodies pushing inexorably toward the docks where the fireworks were going to be lit and a few of The Academy wizards would be throwing up a few of their own visually impressive spells. The pressing flow of bodies forced the two young wizardry students along; helpless to go anywhere but where the human river guided them.
They were able to get a respite when a few bodies pressed them into a side street where they could catch a breather away from the tight confines of the populace. Their relief was short lived when Azerick noticed who had pressed them into the narrow side street.
“Look here, boys. Looks like the street rat got himself a girlfriend,” Hugo taunted.
“Hey, Carrot, you didn’t tell us you had a sister,” Rolly added.
“Couldn’t be my sister, she’d whore herself out to beggars before she’d be seen with a street rat,” Carrot replied.
“You owe us money, street rat. Now pay up and we’ll only bust you up a little bit,” Hugo promised.
“I’m not working the streets anymore, Hugo. I don’t have to pay your guild's tax anymore.”
“You don’t get it do you? Once a street rat, always a street rat. You’re on my streets right now, and you’ll pay your tax. I seem to remember you owing me some silver from the last tax you didn’t pay. Not to mention bustin’ Carrot's nose again. By rights, I could take your ear just for that.” Hugo produced a rust-marred but sharp knife.
“Give him the money, Azerick, it’s okay,” Rusty pleaded, clearly frightened.
“Not going to happen, Rusty. Remember what you’ve been taught.”
“Better listen to your girlfriend, rat, and give us the coin.”
“I have a better idea. How about I show you a magic trick?”
“What kind of magic trick? This better not be some kind of trick or you’re really gonna get it.”
“Just watch,” Azerick said, rolling his eyes at Hugo’s moronic statement.
Azerick moved his hands in a swirling and reaching pattern, and a glowing nimbus of swirling colors began trailing his motions like the streaks of light following behind fireflies.
“Wow, would you look at that, Hugo! What’s he doin?” Carrot asked.
“I don’t know, Carrot, but I don’t like it. What are you doing, street rat?”
The three thugs standing in front of them may not have had a clue what was happening, but Rusty did. He choked down his fear and started casting a spell of his own. A shimmering surrounded his body that would help deflect blows as if he was wearing armor. As Rusty completed his spell, he looked away from Azerick just as he finished
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 27
