The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4

by Brock Deskins

  “Where are they, Brother Paul?”

  “Where are who, General?” the monk asked hollowly without looking up.

  General Baneford smiled humorlessly. “You know damn well who—your dead. There are no grave markers anywhere in the vale. I imagine digging graves in the frozen ground in the winter would be quite a chore.” The General watched Brother Paul’s shoulders sag and knew he had hit the mark.

  The monk whispered a final, quiet prayer and rose to his feet. “It is unwise to disturb the rest of the dearly departed, General.”

  “I’ll take that chance. Now take me to the tombs.”

  “As you wish, General.”

  General Baneford ordered a few of his soldiers to follow him as Brother Paul led them toward the lesser used wings of the monastery. The monk’s sandals seemed to drag a bit, and for once, a smile failed to find its way onto his face.

  The small group stopped at a blank wall where Brother Paul pulled out a large, iron key from within his robes, slipped it into a slot that looked like nothing more than a spot of broken mortar, and gave the key a twist. There was a heavy clack of a bolt drawing back, and a large section of the wall swung in on well-balanced and oiled hinges.

  Behind the wall was a small landing atop the head of a narrow set of steps carved into the natural bedrock upon which the abbey was built. An oiled torch rested in an iron sconce from which a piece of flint and steel hung suspended by pieces of twine. The abbot struck the rough metal against the flint and sent a shower of sparks to instantly ignite the oil-impregnated cloth of the torch.

  Brother Paul lit several more torches as they descended before reaching a long hall with a series of branching corridors leading off in both directions. The monk stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face the General.

  “This is where we inter our brothers who have been received into Solarian’s warm embrace. I can take you no further.”

  General Baneford nodded his acceptance at the abbot’s words. He no longer needed him to reveal the armor’s location. He knew it was here. He could almost feel the pieces he now wore calling to it. He turned to the men who followed him down.

  “Two of you men go back and grab a couple of those torches from the stairs and start looking around.”

  The soldiers quickly returned with a pair of torches and split up to search the tomb. Several more torches flared to life when the men found them as the proceeded down the hall. There were soon enough torches lit that General Baneford could nearly see the entire corridor they were standing in from the foot of the steps.

  Wall niches held the linen-wrapped remains of the dead. Stone statues of monks carved in exacting detail stood near some of the larger interments. Brother Paul followed the General as he walked over to one of the nearer statues and examined it.

  “These are very well done, abbot. I assume they were carved by some of your fellow monks?”

  “Yes, we have a few brothers who are quite gifted, though all the ones you see here were done by brothers long since departed. Those brothers who carve now make smaller statuettes and figurines that we sell or trade to augment the small stipend we receive from the church. We do not lack for quality stone here.”

  General Baneford continued walking down the hall, gazing at each of the statues with an interested eye. He walked all the way to the end of the hall past several life-sized statues of pious-looking men in robes, appreciating the monks’ excellent artisanship. As he turned to walk back, his men began assembling in the main passage.

  “Sir, we have looked down every hall and into each chamber with no sign of the armor. Unless you wish us to move the remains, we see no more areas to search down here. We have even looked for hidden doors and passageways, but if there are any down here we cannot locate them.”

  “What say you, Brother Paul? Will you tell me where it is, or shall I have my men pull your brothers’ bones from the walls?” General Baneford asked nonchalantly.

  The monk’s face reddened in his greatest show of emotion yet at the threatened sacrilege. “If you feel it is necessary then I shall not stop you, but I will not help you in your quest.”

  The General smiled at the monk then looked back to the soldiers. “That’s all right, Lieutenant. I already know where it is.”

  The soldier looked at his commander in surprise. “You do, sir? Where is it? How did you find it?”

  “It is right in front of us, isn’t it, abbot?”

  Brother Paul did not bother to respond.

  “As to how I found it, I guess you could say the armor told me. You see, it wants to be complete so it can fulfill the purpose for which it was created. It just needed to get close enough to its kindred pieces to hear their call.”

  General Baneford stopped in front of one of the older, dust-covered statues and drew his sword. With one last look at Brother Paul, the General brought the heavy pommel down on the outstretched statue’s arms. After a few sharp strikes, the stone-like material making up the draping sleeves of the statue’s robes crumbled away to reveal a set of vambraces edged in gold buckled around the solid stone forearms.

  General Baneford unbuckled the vambraces and tucked them under one arm. Despite his brutal hammering, the armor was unmarred and gleamed like the blackness between last night’s stars.

  “I appreciate the hospitality you have shown me and my men, but I believe it is time for us to be going.”

  “I will show you out, General,” Brother Paul said as he morosely led the way back up the stairs.

  General Baneford and his men soon remounted their horses and made ready to leave the monks to their normally serene monastery. “You do not look quite as pensive as you had when we first arrived, Brother Paul.”

  “Although I have failed in my duty, I do not believe all is as lost as I once feared,” Brother Paul replied, his smile fixed back upon his face.

  “One of us was destined to fail in our duty, and the odds were always in my favor.”

  “I just hope you do not live to regret your success, General.”

  “I imagine I will live to regret many things I have done. If this is one of them, then that’s just one more on what is becoming a rather increasingly long list.” General Baneford handed a small, leather pouch containing a good bit of gold. “For the stew. Maybe you can buy some better furniture too.”

  “May you find your bark, General.”

  General Baneford laughed heartily and led his men away from the monks with his newest prize.

  ***

  “Azerick, wake up, lad,” Zeb’s gruff voice called to him from the depths of his unconsciousness.

  Azerick sat bolt upright and looked at the cave and people around him. Zeb was shaking his shoulder and looking at him with concern in his eyes.

  “Zeb, is that you?” Azerick asked, desperate for confirmation.

  “Aye, lad, of course it is. You were moaning then started shouting in your sleep.”

  “Are you sure it’s you? Are we really here in a cave?”

  Zeb looked at him curiously. “Of course we’re here. Where else would we be?”

  “Never mind,” Azerick said as he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “How is everyone else doing?”

  “They’re a little scared and unsure of where they are, but they’re glad to be gone from that place. Why don’t you eat something before we move on? You’ve been asleep for some time.”

  Azerick had absolutely no appetite, but he knew his body needed the sustenance the food would provide. If it had just been him, he may have simply resigned himself to curling up on the cold cavern floor until he joined Delinda and his child. Nevertheless, he rescued these people, and now he was responsible for them. He ate purely by rote and then stood to address the people around him.

  Azerick winced in pain as every muscle in his body protested and demanded that he lie back down. His partially healed wounds caused him the most pain, but every muscle seemed to be on fire and resisted any kind of movement. He had channeled far too much
power, and his body was making sure he was well of aware of the fact. Despite it all, he knew they needed to press on.

  “I am sure you are all wondering where we are. The truth is I am not sure. We are obviously underground, but how far I have no idea. I do have reason to believe we are under or near the kingdom of Valeria, which is where most of us are from. I see that Zeb and his crew brought food, water, and a few weapons for which we should all be grateful. As soon as you are all ready, we will start to make our way to the surface.”

  Azerick moved toward the front of the group under the stare of frightened eyes. Once everyone was on his or her feet and ready to move, and he began leading them down the dark passageway. The light from the stones he made preceded them down the tunnel and chased away the darkness. The tunnel constantly changed shape, growing wider, narrower, taller, and shorter as they went, but fortunately not so much they could not easily negotiate the passage.

  The caves were cold and the travelers were poorly dressed. Using his magic, Azerick was able to provide the group with a small measure of warmth when they stopped to rest when fatigue declared it was nighttime. It was at such a rest point on the fourth day of their journey toward the surface that Zeb and Toron sat next to him and revealed some problems.

  “Water is getting short. If we don’t find a water source down here in the next couple of days we’re really going to be in trouble,” Zeb informed him.

  “There may be a more immediate concern at hand,” the big minotaur rumbled. “I used to work in the mines back in my kingdom, and I can tell that for the past two days these passages have been worked; and recently. Even more disconcerting is the fact that we are being followed.”

  Azerick’s eyes widened in alarm. “How long have they been following us, and who are they?”

  Toron shook his big, horned head. “I noticed them about an hour ago. Who they are, I have no clue. Dwarves, abyssal elves, and many other races live under the surface. Some can be extremely unpleasant like the abyssal elves. Others are more benign, but those are few. The underworld is a harsh place, and its inhabitants have to be tough to survive. If it is dwarves or another of the less hostile races, they are likely just keeping an eye on us until we are beyond their territory. If they are abyssal elves, then we are in a great deal of danger. They are either waiting for a good ambush site, or their numbers are not great enough to risk an attack and are waiting for more of their kind to reinforce them.”

  Zeb asked, “What should we do? I’m a ship’s captain and a decent fighter, but underground battle tactics are not my forte. Should we just go back and ask them what they want, or create an ambush site of our own and try to parlay there?”

  Azerick took charge once more and directed his people. “No, I think we should avoid whoever it is no matter what their intentions. If we confront them, it may cause them to attack out of alarm. Divide whatever weapons we have amongst those best suited to use them. Myself, Toron, and a third of the armed men will take up the rear. Zeb, you and the rest of the men guard our front, but leave a couple in the center with those who are unarmed. I have a sneaking suspicion if they are going to attack us they will have a group hit our front or flank in an attempt to block us or divide our party in two.”

  Toron nodded his horned head at the young sorcerer’s wisdom. “The larger party will likely be the one to our rear. Any attack to the front will be to slow us down, and if the fight goes badly for them they would want their path of retreat to be in the opposite direction of wherever we are going.”

  Azerick looked around the cavernous chamber where they had decided to stop to rest. “We’ll sleep here. If they are going to attack us, we need to get as much rest now as we can. The two passages leading into here are narrow, and that gives us a defensive advantage. Double the guard, tell everyone what you know, but reassure them as best you can and tell them to sleep with one hand on their weapons.”

  Fortune seemed to smile on them, and their rest went undisturbed. Their hidden watchers, lacking in interest or courage, chose not to attack them that night. Their luck did not hold for long however. Just a little over an hour after the refugees resumed their trek to the surface, their pursuers decided to confront them.

  “They are drawing nearer,” Toron informed Azerick in a low voice.

  Azerick nodded and dropped his light stone onto the cave floor. A minute later, he saw the creatures following them as they stepped cautiously into the circle of light fifty yards behind them. Whoever they were, they were short; about four feet tall with long, slender arms and grayish skin. Azerick could see they were a well-armed party, wielding crossbows and picks that looked as effective against flesh and armor as they did stone.

  Azerick raised his empty hands in a gesture of peace. “We mean you no harm and do not wish to trespass on your territory. We have recently escaped a city of evil creatures and just wish to return to the surface. We could be gone from your tunnels more quickly with your help, which would be greatly appreciated.”

  The cavern gnomes answered Azerick’s request by raising and loosing their crossbows. The sorcerer spoke a command and raised a ward in front of him just before the steel-headed quarrels could tear into his flesh. The bolts’ flight halted just a foot from his heart and clattered to the ground when they met the spellcaster’s invisible shield. Azerick called for peace once more, but the cavern gnomes raised their pickaxes and charged.

  He let a lightning bolt rip from his hand and dropped several of the wiry creatures in their tracks. He heard the clamor of battle behind him as another contingent of gnomes attacked the head of the party. Furious shouts from the humans and the foreign battle cries of the gnomes reached his ears as he let loose another lightning bolt, killing several and driving back the rest of the cavern gnome forces harrying their rear.

  “You men, go search those bodies as quickly as you can for weapons. Toron, go help Zeb at the front of our party while I guard our rear,” Azerick ordered.

  He followed just behind the remaining men to where the cavern gnome casualties lay. Azerick erected a long field of stone spikes along the passage to slow any pursuit as the men stripped the fallen cavern gnomes of picks, daggers, crossbows, and small shields.

  “Half of you guard our rear, the rest come with me,” Azerick ordered.

  Azerick and four of the men raced to the front of the small column of former slaves while the remaining four men fired their pilfered crossbows at any enemy coming within view.

  Toron charged into battle swinging his battleaxe in huge, sweeping arcs. His arrival was welcome relief to the unarmored humans who were trying desperately to fight off numerous enemies with nothing more than kitchen utensils. The gnomes had wounded several of the sailors, but the humans were acquitting themselves well despite their meager weapons. Sailors were often accustomed to fighting with various makeshift weapons, from gaffs to belaying pins, and their advantage in reach had left two of the gnomes dead on the ground before Toron arrived.

  Azerick and his relief force arrived to see the huge minotaur wading into a knot of vicious gnomes and cleaving two them nearly in half with one powerful swing. The gnomes were quick and wily though, darting around and under Toron’s thick, hairy legs and delivering painful wounds of their own.

  Azerick sent a stream of energy bolts into two of the gnomes, knocking them away from the harassed minotaur. Toron swept his great axe down at the off-balance gnomes, taking the head from one and the weapon arm from the other.

  The armless cavern gnome stumbled back, spraying his kin with bright arterial blood from his stump. Azerick sent another barrage of magical bolts into the gnomes and turned their fighting withdrawal into a route. Toron was about to chase after them until Azerick called him back.

  “Let them go, Toron. Help us with the wounded and let’s get out of here.”

  Toron looked at the fleeing gnomes with a hunger in his eyes then turned back toward his comrades with a sigh of regret. “It has been a long time since I last felt the stirrings of battle
lust in my blood. It felt good.”

  “I have a feeling you will get another chance at them. For now, we need your strength to help carry our wounded.” Azerick looked down at the minotaur’s blood-soaked legs. “Make sure you get those bandaged up too. I shudder at the thought of having to carry you.”

  “These little scratches? They are nothing, but I will do as you ask.”

  The few women in the group tore any extra clothing they had brought into strips for bandages. Azerick took one of the precious healing draughts from his satchel and gave a measured dose to those most in need. Unfortunately, two of the men were beyond the potion’s ability to help.

  “I’m sorry, Zeb,” Azerick told his captain. “We will have to leave them here. We need to be able to move swiftly, and I doubt it will take long for the gnomes to regroup and hit us again.”

  “Aye, lad, you’re right. They died free men, and none of us can ask for more than that. Their spirits are grateful to you, don’t you let that worry you none,” the old sailor assured his young friend.

  The men salvaged what weapons and armor they could from the bodies of their enemies and moved out swiftly. None of the armor fit any of the men, but many of them now had metal helms and small shields as well as weapons that were more formidable than kitchen knives. One of the smaller women slipped a hard leather cuirass over her head and gripped a kitchen knife in her hand.

  ***

  Humans and a huge, horned beast were in their caves. This was intolerable. Particularly after the creature with the spider’s face and his soldiers had caused so much trouble a few months ago. The human who threw lightning had spoken some words and made gestures hinting at peaceful intent, but that was irrelevant. A stone master was coming with more soldiers. He would take care of that one. This was their territory, and they would tolerate no trespassers.