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

by Brock Deskins

  Azerick could hear Captain Brague grind his teeth as the sergeant replied, “Then we all owe you an enormous debt, My Lord Magus. I am certain Her Grace will wish to see you all as soon as possible.”

  “Of course, Sergeant,” Miranda responded, “escort us home if you would be so kind.”

  The other mounted soldiers had caught up to them and parted to let the distinguished party take the lead before following in behind. Captain Brague and the sergeant headed the vanguard as they passed through the heavy gates and into the city of North Haven.

  The castle was spectacular with four large towers and numerous minarets all topped with blue clay tiles. Nearly everyone on the street waved joyously to Lady Miranda and her passing party with many more rushing out of homes and businesses to welcome her return.

  As much as Azerick disliked attention, he found the spectacle heartwarming and allowed himself to believe that he may finally be able to call somewhere home. First, he needed to secure an actual home, and he already had a plan for that. He just hoped what he had planned would work. If it did not, it might just kill him.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lord Beaumont paced restlessly across the carpeted floor of his study like a caged animal. He was expecting someone, but it was already after midnight, and the longer he waited the more restless he became. He became weary of his own constant pacing, so he sat down and poured another glass of amber liquor. Lord Beaumont brought the glass to his lips and nearly spilled its entire contents down the front of his silk smoking jacket when a voice spoke from behind him.

  “You requested my services,” said a soft voice just over his left shoulder.

  Liquor sloshed onto his chest as he bolted up out of his seat and spun around to face the intruder.

  “Who are you?” he gasped at the dark-garbed, hooded figure standing barely an arm’s length behind the chair he had just forcefully vacated.

  “You know precisely who I am. You sent for me. Now gain control of yourself so that we may conclude our business transaction without wasting any more of my precious time with stupid and pointless questions,” the Rook insisted.

  Lord Beaumont tried to regain his composure, but the ice-blue eyes practically glowing beneath the cavernous darkness inside the cloak’s hood unnerved him.

  “How did you get in here past my guards?” the nervous lord stammered.

  The Rook sighed as if he were forced to explain a most rudimentary of concepts to an imbecile. “If I could not get past your pathetic guards unchallenged then I would hardly be worth the exorbitant sum you are going to pay me.”

  Lord Beaumont forced a calm façade. “Ah yes, of course not. Very well then, let us get down to business.”

  For all of his bluster and arrogance, Lord Beaumont had never actually hired an assassin or had any dealings with the criminal element beyond the typical tax evasion and trading of illegal goods. If the assassin standing before him was typical of his kind, he never would again. It was like standing in the same room with the goddess of death herself.

  “I wish to hire you to kill somebody.”

  “That would be obvious. Had you sent for me for anything less I would have been greatly disappointed, and much like having my time wasted, I do detest being disappointed.”

  Lord Beaumont swallowed hard as he imagined what happened to those who disappointed this man, if a man was what he really was. “My son was murdered and I want his murderer to face justice.”

  Lord Beaumont retreated when the Rook unexpectedly stepped toward him. “I am not a constable or watchman to administer justice. I kill people, and not just anyone. There are lesser assassins about who will perform your task for a fraction of what I charge. You had best pray you have not wasted my time coming here.”

  “My son was killed by another wizard while attending The Academy two years ago,” Lord Beaumont hastily explained. “For two years I have paid various men to find out where his murderer has been hiding, but to no avail. I want him found, and I want him dead no matter the cost!”

  “Your son’s killer was a teacher?”

  “No, another student, but do not underestimate him. He is exceedingly clever, or so I am told. When he killed my son, there were pieces of him scattered about for yards in every direction. I do not think we ever found all of him.”

  “Very well, I will find this wizardling for you and kill him. You have my fee?”

  “Of course, it is right here.”

  Lord Beaumont crossed the room and pulled a carved wooden box the size of a small loaf of bread from a wall safe hidden behind a portrait. The small chest’s contents gave off a metallic clink as he handed the small fortune over to the assassin.

  The Rook took the chest and started to walk backward toward a shadowy corner of the room when all of the oil lamps began flickering as if being assaulted by a strong wind. The room was cast in harsh, wavering light and dancing shadows for only a moment before the lamps once again burned brightly. In that half second of wavering, flickering light, the Rook had disappeared.

  Lord Beaumont glanced around the room, but as far as he could tell, he was once again alone. The lord wondered if he had just made a deal with a demon and prayed it would not cost him more than the gold he had just handed over.

  One thing was for certain, he would have to move his study into another room. The Rook had left such a powerful presence that never again would he feel safe or alone in this room. He knew his fears were ridiculous. There was no room in the entire kingdom a person could be safe in if the Rook wanted them dead.

  ***

  Azerick followed Lady Miranda and Captain Brague down the marbled halls of castle North Haven. The ringing of the Captain’s boot heels was the only thing breaking the tranquility of the place. They stopped before a pair of ornate double doors guarded by a pair of pikemen in brilliantly gleaming full plate armor.

  The two sentries came to attention and opened the doors wide to permit the trio into the room beyond without challenge. A waiting room for those who sought an audience with Her Grace lay between them and the throne room with another set of double doors replete with halberdiers. Felt-covered benches sat against the two walls between large planters from which small bushes and plants grew and filled the room with the fragrance of their blossoms.

  The party was not required to wait of course, and the guardsmen swung open the doors to permit the privileged group access to Lady Mellina without hesitation.

  Azerick tried to conceal the look of awe on his face when he entered the vast hall. Blue marble sheathed the walls, multiple glass skylights let in the afternoon sun, while magnificent tapestries, brilliantly polished swords and shields, and masterwork paintings adorned the walls. A long, emerald green carpet accented with gold trim ran from the door to the very steps of the dais upon which sat the thrones.

  Azerick stifled a gasp when he espied the woman sitting in the right hand seat of power atop a seven-stepped dais. The woman was beautiful just like her daughter, but there the similarity ended. Her hair was black and straight where Miranda’s was a deep auburn and wavy. Miranda’s face was open, kind, and affable where her mother’s was stern, strictly composed, and shrewd. Azerick could tell this was a woman who commanded respect through sheer presence alone.

  When they reached the foot of the marble steps below the thrones, Captain Brague knelt with his head bowed while Miranda bounded up the steps and wrapped her arms around her mother.

  For a moment, Azerick thought the frigid woman would not break decorum to return her daughter’s display of affection in front of guests, but after a moment’s hesitation, she embraced her only child. For just a second, Azerick saw the motherly adoration the woman hid behind the steely mask of propriety. Miranda whispered something into her mother’s ear while casting a glance to where Azerick and Captain Brague waited to be addressed.

  Captain Brague turned his head to look up at Azerick and shot him a fierce glare indicating he should kneel before Her Grace, but Azerick refused to take the hint and simp
ly bent at the waist when Lady Mellina made eye contact with him.

  The duchess extracted herself from her daughter’s embrace and sat back down upon her throne. “Captain Brague, it has come to my understanding that you and your men ran into some trouble on the way back from Southport.”

  The captain swallowed with difficulty before answering. “Yes, Your Grace. Approximately three days ride to the south, bandits set upon us. We were surprised, the coach was immediately disabled, and we were vastly outnumbered. Several of my men fell to crossbows before we were even able to engage. The rest gave their lives to my Lady’s defense.”

  “I mourn the loss of your men and my loyal citizens, and they will each be hailed as heroes. Submit their names to my seneschal so we may compensate their families for their loss and pass on their medals of valor. Please take your place,” the Duchess commanded.

  She turned her falcon-like gaze toward Azerick once more. “I understand it is you whom I have to thank for my daughter and captain’s timely rescue. Had it not been for you, my loyal captain would also have given his life in my daughter’s defense, and she would likely be strapped to the back of a horse riding to some filthy bandit camp where she would stay until I met with the cowardly scum’s ransom demand. Is that about the truth of it, Magus Azerick?”

  Before he could answer, Captain Brague interrupted. “Your Grace, you should know that this man did not intervene until the bandits threatened him. Had he acted sooner, more of my men would likely be alive, and had the bandits not made the critical error of attacking him, the results would have been precisely as you just stated.”

  “You are certain of this, Captain?” Lady Mellina asked coldly.

  “Yes, Your Grace. He sat upon his horse watching the disaster unfold before his very eyes. It was not until the bandit leader told his men to kill him that he got off his horse and used his sorceries to slay several of the bandits attacking us.” Captain Brague’s voice with thick with scorn.

  “You say he was mounted some distance away from the attack then dismounted when he heard the bandit’s order to kill him. Am I correct?”

  “That is precisely how it happened, Your Grace. The man is an opportunist at best, and a coward at the least,” the Captain replied smugly, flashing Azerick a condescending sneer of disdain and triumph.

  “Were any of the bandits mounted?”

  “No, Your Grace. They burst out from the tree line on foot.”

  Duchess Mellina crooked one well-manicured eyebrow at her captain. “So this man, an accused coward, got off his horse to fight a large group of bandits afoot instead of simply wheeling his mount around and fleeing the battle. Is my understanding correct, Captain?”

  Captain Brague hummed and hawed for a moment, but he realized where the Duchess was going with this line of questioning and knew he had been cornered. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Captain Brague, you are a loyal and valuable member of my domain.” The soldier stood straighter, if it were possible, under his Lady’s praise. “However, diminishing the accomplishments or heroics of another is unseemly and ill becomes you. Men often require leadership and encouragement to act with honor and courage. If they did not, we would have little requirement for outstanding leaders like yourself. You should be grateful to the magus, for he has not only saved our beloved Lady Miranda, but also given you the opportunity to continue to serve us. I hope you take advantage of the opportunity he has provided you to learn and grow.”

  Captain Brague fumed and wilted under his Lady’s admonishments, but he still managed to force out a reply. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Magus Azerick, despite the splendor you see about you, we are not a wealthy city, but anything I am able to give you as a reward for the safe return of my daughter is yours for the asking.”

  “Your Grace, I left Southport for North Haven some time ago in search of a new home. Even though events beyond my control delayed my arrival by some time, it would seem that such delays, though accidental, was fortunate or perhaps even destined to occur,” Azerick submitted. “I saw the ruined keep upon the hill a few miles from the city. I would be most grateful if you would grant me ownership of it and its accompanying land.”

  Lady Miranda gasped at the request and even her mother’s impeccable calm cracked briefly at the request. Captain Brague looked surprised for a moment then smiled to himself hoping that maybe the upstart sorcerer would be killed, or at least driven off by the very real ghosts haunting the place.

  The Duchess quickly composed herself. “Magus, I promised to reward you with anything that is in my power to give, and I will honor my pledge, but I would ask you to reconsider your request. There are several fine homes and manors within the city, of which I would gladly give you your pick. They are magnificent dwellings in the wealthiest part of the city.”

  “That is very gracious of you, Your Grace, but it is the keep I wish to possess,” Azerick stated adamantly.

  “Are you aware of the keep’s history?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “The tales of the haunting and lives lost are quite real and are not some fictitious folklore of superstitious commoners. The lucky ones who have braved the ruins of the keep returned half mad, and many did not return at all.”

  “I am aware of that, Your Grace, but that is still my request.”

  The Duchess allowed a small frown to show on her stoic face. “Very well, Magus. I will have my seneschal draw up the title. May Solarian bless you and watch over you.”

  Azerick bowed at the waist once more as the Duchess stood and departed the chamber through a smaller door hidden behind the thick folds of a curtain to the rear of the dais. Lady Miranda glided gracefully down the steps and slipped an arm through Azerick’s before he had time to react.

  “May I escort you out, Azerick?” she asked kindly but in a tone implying his answer would be yes whether he wanted it or not.

  “I suppose you would be better company than the Captain,” Azerick replied drolly.

  Miranda guided Azerick down the marble halls of the castle by a different route than they had taken coming in and took nearly twice as long to reach the entrance. Miranda made a good tour guide, pointing out the portraits of her ancestors, who had built which halls and rooms, and when they were constructed. For some reason Azerick could not fathom, Miranda’s presence made him slightly nervous. It came as a sense of relief when they finally arrived at the doors leading out.

  “Do you know where you will be staying?” Miranda asked.

  “No, this is my first time in North Haven. I will find an inn somewhere and stay there until I deal with the keep.”

  “Why did you choose such a dreadful reward? My mother would gladly give you a beautiful chateau or mansion here in the city.”

  Azerick shook his head. “I want something I can truly call my own. Somewhere set apart from everyone else. The keep will be what I make it, not what someone else has given me.”

  “Do you truly wish to be apart from everyone else so badly?”

  Azerick thought about the question for a moment and shrugged. “It is safer that way; less painful.”

  “Safe, yes, but also dull. You must take some risks to find happiness, or it is really not much of a life at all. You may survive, but you will never truly live. Fare thee well, Magus. I look forward to speaking with you again.”

  Azerick gave her a nod and descended the broad granite steps leading down to the courtyard where a groom stood waiting with Horse. Azerick put his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself into the saddle.

  “Do you know a good inn to stay at?” Azerick asked, looking down at the lad.

  “The Golden Glade is as nice an inn as you will find in the city, milord,” the young groom replied respectfully.

  Azerick thanked the young man and flipped him a silver piece for his help.

  “Thank you, milord!” the groom replied with a deep bow and scampered away.

  Azerick guided Horse through the heavy gates set in the secondary wal
l surrounding the palace grounds. The homes and few businesses lining the streets this close to the palace were opulent affairs; two and three stories tall, built of white stone, and roofed with the same blue tiles as the palace. Somewhere along one of the many grand plazas was where Azerick would have had a home if had wished it. Instead, he was now the owner of a decrepit ruin allegedly haunted by a vengeful spirit. He began to wonder about his own sanity and if the ghost could drive him mad if he were already insane.

  He asked a few people he passed for directions to the Golden Glade. They looked from his travel-worn clothing to his plain horse before pointing him in the general direction of the inn.

  Probably assuming I am looking for a job not a room, Azerick thought to himself.

  The Golden Glade was located directly on the intersection separating the wealthy quarter of the city and the merchant quarter where much of the middle class lived.

  The sign above the door was a painting of a golden waterfall cascading down into a pool of what was probably supposed to be beer or ale, surrounded by lush vegetation and grass. The paint was clean and fresh; probably touched up or repainted frequently to maintain the quality of the sign.

  Around the back of the inn was a large, clean stable with three stablehands ready to take good care of the customers’ horses. Azerick guided Horse through the gates that were now open but kept shut at night for security.

  The three stablehands watched Azerick approach and conversed amongst themselves, probably deciding who was going to service the pauper and his worn-looking mount. They pushed the youngest boy forward, who was most likely the one who always took the customers who looked least likely to tip.

  Despite having drawn the proverbial short straw, the lad bounded forward enthusiastically. “Take your horse, sir?”

  Azerick dismounted and handed the towheaded boy Horse’s reins. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Will milord be staying the night?”