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

by Brock Deskins

  He spent some time to compose himself before walking back to town. Zeb was sitting at a table seemingly waiting for him when he entered the inn. When he motioned for Azerick to take a seat, he knew Zeb had heard what happened. With a sigh, Azerick sat down and waited for the rebuke that was sure to come.

  “I’m not going to ask what’s wrong, lad. I have a good idea what it is. I miss her too, son,” Zeb said quietly. “I think I knew Delinda well enough to know she loved you so much that she would want you to be happy, even if that meant finding happiness with someone else.”

  “So what do you want me to do, Zeb?” Tears overflowed the banks of his eyelids and raced down his face. “Do you want me to grab onto the first girl who throws herself at me?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything, son. All I am saying is that Delinda would want to see you happy. Whether it means being happy alone or with someone else is for you to decide. Just don’t push everyone away who tries to get near you because you think you are being faithful to Delinda’s memory. I’ve been a sailor a long time, and in that time I have met many widows. Whatever you do, however you live; do it for yourself and how you know would make Delinda happy, and not because of some misguided notion of loyalty.”

  Zeb got up from the table and gave Azerick’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving him alone to his thoughts. Zeb’s words made sense, but it was hard for him to let go of Delinda’s memories. He was afraid that if he moved on he would be leaving her behind, and the thought terrified him. He could never forget her; would never forget her. He declined dinner that night and went straight to his room to think in silence and without distraction.

  By the time the sun rose, Azerick was little closer to finding the answers he sought. He thought maybe the fresh morning air would aid in his deliberations, so he draped a light cloak over his shoulders and headed out of town. The sun was just rising, so the main gates were still closed as he approached. He waved to the guard on duty, picked a direction at random, and began walking with a purpose in his feet if not in his mind.

  He stared at the ground a few feet ahead of him as he wracked his brain for answers. It did not take long for him to come to the decision that he owed Anna an apology, but the other answers he sought were not so quick in coming. When he finally looked up, he saw that the sun had risen much higher in the sky than he had anticipated, and he had walked all the way to the base of the foothills on the northern side of the valley.

  As he took refuge from the sun beneath the boughs of a massive evergreen tree, a huge shadow flew across the ground, prompting the young sorcerer to look up. Expecting to see a large hawk or eagle, Azerick froze in place at what he beheld. A massive, scarlet, black, and deep amethyst-scaled reptilian behemoth flew just a few hundred feet above him. A dragon! If he ran, it would almost certainly see him, but it seemed intent on looking in the direction it was traveling and not at the small human who would have made little more than a snack to such a huge monster.

  Azerick finally regained control over his legs when he realized the direction in which it was headed. He pumped his legs furiously and ran as fast as he could back toward the town. He drew in the Source and fed his starving muscles. Even with the aid of his magic, Azerick knew there was no way he could possibly get back in time to do anything to help, but such knowledge did not slow him down.

  Such a beast could easily reduce the town to splinters long before he would arrive to do anything about it. Could he even do anything about it? Was his magic powerful enough to faze such a creature? He did not think so, but he had never let such concerns stop him from defending himself or those he cared about before, and he would not do so now.

  By the time Azerick neared the town his legs ached and his lungs burned from running the several miles back. He saw that the gates and a large section of the palisade had been smashed and lay in pieces upon the ground. The fact he saw no smoke, and that there were people milling about, greatly reduced his fear of coming upon a slaughter.

  Azerick saw Toron’s large horns and muzzled face rising above the crowd. He ran toward him, suspecting that Zeb would be close by. His assumption proved correct when he drew near and saw Zeb talking with the mayor next to Toron. Zeb seemed angry and Toron held his big, double-bladed battle-axe tightly in his fist and wore his heavy, leather battle kilt.

  “What happened?” Azerick yelled as he drew near the small group.

  “Seems you were right, lad. The good mayor here was keeping something from us all along. I assume you saw the dragon. It seems that the dragon shows up every year a bit after the spring harvest and demands tribute as some kind of tax. It took me and three of my men to keep Toron from trying to lop its big ugly head off and getting himself, and probably a lot of us, killed in the process.”

  “It’s not our fault!” The mayor cried. “We do not have the weapons or fighters to even try and defend ourselves against the creature, and we are too far away from any vassal to expect help from them.”

  “You should have let me go,” Toron growled. “Better to die as warriors defending yourselves and what is yours than living as cowards to be preyed upon by another!”

  “I agree with you, Toron, but it is their town and their way of life to live as they choose. I say we get the ship loaded with whatever goods you plan to take, I’ll get my things and my books, and we will leave them to their own problems as soon as you are ready to set sail,” Azerick said with undisguised contempt.

  Zeb looked a bit squeamish. “I’m sorry, lad, but the mayor gave most of your things to the dragon.”

  Azerick spun on the squat little mayor. “You did what?” Blue arcs of power began jumping across the knuckles of his clenched fists.

  Mayor Remkin backed away with his hands raised before him, realizing for the first time exactly what made this young man so intimidating. “It wasn’t my fault! The dragon could sense some of the things in your room and demanded we bring them to him or he would peal the roof off the inn and dig them out himself. I have never seen him so insistent. Besides, you were all supposed to be gone by now.”

  Azerick paced, gnashing his teeth and clenching his fists in frustration. He spun toward the mayor’s quaint yet opulent home and struck it with a lightning bolt powerful enough to shatter a large section of the front wall. Lacking the supporting base, an equally large section of its roof quickly followed the wall down to lie atop the pile of smoldering rubble.

  He then spun about and faced Zeb. “Zeb, load up the ship with whatever you plan to trade, get the men on board, and get out of here.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “No.”

  “I will stay here with you,” Toron proclaimed.

  “So will the rest of us, lad.”

  “No, Zeb. If I cannot take care of this myself, then you and your men will not be able to provide much help. There is no sense in you all dying for nothing. Toron, there is no one I would want more by my side and watching my back in a situation like this than you, but if it actually comes down to a fight, I do not think even your great strength and battle prowess will get me out alive. I need you to take whatever books I have left and keep them safe. Just get them to North Haven. Deposit them in a safe box under my name. I will retrieve them there if I am able.”

  “Very well, I will guard them with my life. They will be there for you when you come for them,” Toron swore.

  Azerick stalked up to his room and filled his pack with essential supplies. He stopped by the kitchen and stuffed some food into his bag. When he reemerged from the inn, Zeb and a few others were still standing near to where he had left them. The mayor and several locals were surveying the damage to his house.

  “Which way did it go?” Azerick demanded.

  Several locals pointed to the north and slightly west of the town.

  “What are you going to do, son?” Zeb called after him as Azerick headed for the ruined gates.

  “I’m going to get my things!”

  “Do you really think your magic i
s powerful enough to destroy a dragon?”

  “No!”

  “Then how are you going to get your things back?”

  “I don’t know!” Azerick shouted over his shoulder.

  “Do you think getting yourself killed is going to make Delinda happy?” Zeb shouted back.

  Azerick spun back around. “All of my life people have taken from me! They took my father, home, mother, and friends. They took my freedom and my wife. They took my child, Zeb! They took everything because they were strong and I was too weak to protect them, but no more! I have power now, and I will kill or die to protect what is mine!”

  Azerick turned and stalked out of the ruined gates, snatched a spear from the hand of a surprised guard, and headed out of the town toward the mountains.

  Mayor Remkin sidled up next to Zeb. “That is a troubled young man. I will pray for his safe return.”

  Zeb turned and looked at the fat mayor. “You better pray he finds his things if he does return here.” Zeb turned away and started issuing orders to his men.

  Azerick put the town to his back and walked in the direction of his stolen property. He was sick and tired of someone always taking from him the things that were most important to him. Murderers had taken his parents, Travis’ foolish actions had taken away his school, Xornan had taken away his love, and now this dragon dared to take away his books and his chance at living a peaceful life in this valley. He stopped and turned at the sound of someone calling his name. Anna ran up to him, breathing hard from the exertion of catching up to him.

  “Anna, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about you. I want to apologize for my behavior once again.”

  “No, Azerick, it is I who must apologize. Zeb told me what happened to you, and I am so sorry. If I had known of your loss, I would not have thrown myself at you. I’m not sorry for liking you, but I understand this was a bad time for you.”

  “Please don’t think it had anything to do with you. You are lovely, kind, and smart; much like Delinda was, and it confused me. I still should not have reacted as I did. If things were different, if I were not so messed up in my head, I would never have pushed you away.”

  “I understand. Please be careful.” she stretched up onto her toes and kissed him once again. “For luck.”

  She turned away and ran back toward the town before he could think of anything to say. Azerick watched her for several minutes before he resumed walking in the direction of his stolen property.

  CHAPTER 10

  One of the first things Azerick had learned about magic was that a mage was capable of imbuing his more valuable possessions with trace magic to allow him or her to know precisely where it was once they got close enough. Magus Allister had taught him a rather painful lesson when he was still nothing more than a street rat. A clever street rat, but a street rat nonetheless.

  After three days of hiking, Azerick knew he was getting close. He could feel the effusion of his trace magic, albeit very faintly. He climbed the foothills and followed the base of the mountains westward. At the rate he could sense the magical emanations increasing, he estimated that he would find their location shortly before sundown.

  The terrain became increasingly arduous as rocks and boulders replaced trees, and the normal forest detritus turned from leaves and branches to the scattered skeletal remains. Most of the bones were scoured clean, but a few still showed stains of dried and rotted flesh. As he climbed the treacherous rock-strewn slope, he prayed the dragon would not be home, and he could simply walk in and take back his things lest he become just another addition to the grisly rubbish strewn across the slope.

  As usual, his prayers went unanswered, and a deep voice rumbled out of the cave mouth with the force of an avalanche. “You are either very foolish or very stupid, little sorcerer.”

  “I’m a sorcerer not a—oh, never mind,” Azerick responded, cutting short his habitual clarification.

  “So which is it that brings you to seek your death on my mountain?”

  “No one has ever called me stupid before; quite the opposite really. So if I had to choose I guess I would have to go with foolishness.”

  “You are fortunate. I have just finished a rather large meal, and I am in no mood to exert even the minimal amount of effort it would take to crush you.”

  Azerick surveyed his surroundings, looking for anything that might provide him with any kind of advantage. He stood next to a huge boulder the size of a carriage that must have fallen from the high cliff face rising above the dragon’s cave some centuries back.

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You took some things from the town of Riverdale that belong to me. I would like to have them back.”

  A deep rumbling reverberated from the cave opening. “Anything within my cave belongs to me, just as anything that comes into my valley. I will allow you to leave since you have thus far provided me with amusement, but you amuse me no longer.”

  “I will make you a deal. I do not care one wit about the things you have taken from the town, its people, or whatever else you may have collected. Just let me have my things back, and I will not trouble you any longer.”

  “So you will allow me to keep the things I have taken if I return what was once yours? What arrogance, what presumption! The only thing being allowed here is my allowing you to live, and that gift I now choose to revoke. I will show you what you have the power to allow!”

  Azerick heard the scraping of claws and scales on stone. A slight wind picked up as the dragon filled its huge lungs full of air. The sorcerer stepped behind the large boulder just as the dragon stretched its long neck out and breathed a massive jet of flame. Azerick could feel the incredible heat of the blast as it splashed against the boulder. He could feel the rock heating up and cracking under the awesome, fiery assault.

  Azerick prepared a spell he had been practicing since his arrival in the valley. It was one that he had studied the description of in the great tome he was so desperate to get back. He called out to the dragon once more from the short-term safety of the massive boulder.

  “Last chance, dragon. Just give me back my stuff. There is no need for us to do battle!”

  He heard the dragon drawing another great breath and jumped out from behind his stone barrier. He released his spell just as the dragon’s head stretched out of the cave and began spewing another burst of stone-melting flames.

  Azerick’s spell did not appear to have any visible effect. It was not until a crash and sick crunch of bone abruptly cut off the jet of fire gave indication that the sorcerer had done anything at all.

  A massive boulder, only slightly smaller than the one Azerick hid behind, fell from the towering face of the mountain. It plummeted silently as if dropped by the gods and struck the dragon before rolling and crashing down the slope. A dense stand of hearty trees finally arrested the runaway juggernaut’s flight a hundred yards down the face of the slope. Once the dust began to settle, Azerick stepped out from behind his stone barrier, which was still radiating a great deal of heat, and went to examine the destruction his spell had wrought.

  The massive, horned head of the dragon lay still upon the rocky ground. A large rent in its hard, glittering scales oozed blood near the back of the huge, wedge-shaped head. A glint of white showed the cusp of one of the creature’s great vertebrae protruding from the ghastly wound. Azerick’s eyes traveled up the cliff face and examined the smooth indentation marking the spot where his spell had undermined the stone holding the big boulder in place and ultimately proved to be the dragon’s demise.

  “I take no pleasure in your death, great dragon. Despite your greed and arrogance, I find you to be a magnificent creature.”

  It was not until Azerick squeezed past its massive bulk that he realized how impressive the dragon truly was. From his studies, he estimated that the dragon, much like him, to be just at the transition point of being considered an adult by its kind. The tunnel leading to its lair was long
, and the dragon’s body blocked most of the waning outside light from reaching very far into the cavern, so he conjured up his own magical illumination.

  From the looks of the huge claw marks, the dragon had widened much of the long passage in order to accommodate its ever-expanding girth. Large patches of stone had been worn smooth, most likely by the continual scraping of the dragon’s hard scales. It took several minutes of walking before the tunnel opened into a huge central cavern. Azerick circled the vast chamber and saw that much of its walls had been scraped smooth by the dragon just as the tunnel leading in had been.

  The chamber looked like a giant stone bowl turned upside down with Azerick trapped beneath it. He ran his hand along the smooth, almost glassy walls where the dragon must have used magic or the heat of its powerful, flaming breath to melt the stone smooth.

  The most impressive feature of the dragon’s lair was the massive glittering pile of treasure piled near the back wall of the cavern. A great mound of gold, jewels and numerous other items of value lay in a heap as tall as the sorcerer and twice his height in width at its base.

  Azerick doubted that even the King’s treasury contained so much wealth. In fact, only the church could likely match or exceed this horde’s value in all of Valeria. Azerick cautiously approached the immense source of riches, and an ominous rumbling filled the chamber. A loud crack sounded from the direction of the cave entrance followed by the deafening thunder of thousands of tons of stone crashing down and spewing a choking, blinding cloud of dust into the cavern.

  Azerick hunkered down and covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. Even that bit of protection could not prevent his lungs from getting a thick coating of the fine grey powder. As the rumbling ceased and the dust began to settle, Azerick’s lungs violently tried to expel the contaminants. His coughing brought up mouthfuls of grey, gritty phlegm, but it finally abated as the dust settled enough for him to see and breathe.