“So are you two all moved in now?” Wolf asked the girl as he cut another piece.
“Yeah, they finished the roof and two of the floors three days ago. They still have to do the upper floors of the tower, but Master Azerick wanted our rooms and some of the basement rooms finished first.”
“Why is he worried about the basement rooms?” Wolf asked, working his words around the mouthful of apple pie.
Ellyssa shrugged. “I don’t know. Something about needing a vault, but I don’t know what he is going to put in it. The only money I have seen him with is a pouch of gold, and that’s almost gone from paying all the people who are working on the keep.”
“Have you learned any magic yet?”
“A little.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling excitedly. “You want see?”
“Not really.”
Her shoulder slumped and she deflated just a bit as she glared at Wolf.
***
Scores of workers were busy stacking and mortaring stone, sawing timbers, rebuilding the wooden floors, and putting support beams in place in order to make the old tower inhabitable once more.
“Master Azerick,” one of the job foremen hailed when the sorcerer stepped out of the tower. “We just finished hanging the door on the one basement chamber you were anxious to get finished.”
“Excellent, show me what you have,” Azerick replied.
Azerick followed the foreman into the tower and down the stairs leading to the rooms below the tower. Two men were making final checks to ensure the balance was perfect and that the door opened and closed smoothly.
“Here it is,” the man proudly pointed out. “It was a real piece of work I’ll tell ya. Six inches thick with a sheet of iron sandwiched between the wood, but it floats on the hinges like it’s nothing.”
Azerick examined the heavy door. It was only six feet tall, but it was thick and banded in iron. The rugged hinges could easily have handled a door twice its size, but Azerick had insisted that the door be built like a vault, which was precisely what he had in mind for it. Once he inscribed his protective wards upon it and the chamber beyond, it would be nearly impenetrable.
“Excellent work, gentlemen. I think you are done here for now,” Azerick told the workers.
The foreman called to his men to follow him back up. “Right then, I guess we’ll get working topside again. Lots to do ya know.”
Azerick smiled at the understatement. “That I know. With luck, I will be able to hire a great deal more workers shortly.”
“We can sure use them. Depending on what all you want done, I can keep a thousand men busy for a year putting this place right again.”
“That is precisely what I have in mind.”
Azerick stood in front of the open doorway and looked at the spotless empty chamber. He hoped what he had planned would work. If any of the glyphs he had created around the dragon’s treasure he had claimed after he killed the creature were marred or damaged, it was all likely gone forever. Worse yet, he would not be able to afford to hire more workers to finish his tower.
With a thick piece of chalk in hand, Azerick carefully inscribed the chamber floor with the exact same runes he had drawn on the cavern floor where he hoped his treasure still lay. He checked his work in the large tome he had brought with him just for this purpose. Not only did the sorcerer have to redraw the runes in the same sequence as the distant ones, they also had to correlate in direction as well. Just as he had done in the cavern nearly a year ago, he started with the rune situated due north and worked his way around the chamber in a clockwise direction.
The task was exacting in detail, and it took several hours to finish. Azerick stood back and surveyed his work. Once he found it acceptable, he raised his arms and chanted the words to the ritual. The air began to shimmer as the sorcerer waved his arms about, shaping and directing the Source, that mystical flow of power all wizards and sorcerers tapped into to create their potent magic.
The shimmering began to take form, and a large, indistinct mound coalesced into being in the center of the room. The misty shape resolved into a huge pile of treasure. The mound of gold, silver, and copper coins, bejeweled weapons and armor, wooden chests filled with unknown treasures, and all manner of valuables was awe-inspiring. The chamber Azerick had prepared for this very purpose was significantly smaller than the huge cavern where he had found it after defeating the dragon guarding it. The smaller room made the pile of treasure appear even larger than he remembered.
However, what truly drew his eye now was the small creature that slid boneless down the face of the glittering mound. The goblin sat up, supporting himself with his skinny arms, and shook his head in an attempt to clear his disorientation.
Grick was thankful that goblins were incapable of vomiting, or he would definitely be losing his last meal right now. Not that there was much left to throw up. He had been trapped atop the treasure mound for at least two days and was nearly ready to risk a leap over the runes encircling it. Better to be burnt into a goblin briquette than starve to death.
Azerick watched the little, brown mustard-colored goblin get shakily to his feet. The goblin looked up at Azerick who stood with his arms crossed and wearing a bemused and quizzical look. Grick looked around and saw that he was no longer in the cavern and that the human must have brought him, along with the treasure pile, to his home. Grick realized two important things in that moment. The treasure must belong to this human, and the human was a very powerful wizard. A flood of nightmares flashed through his mind of a horrifying time a few years ago. Grick vowed he would never suffer such again.
Azerick watched with interest as the goblin looked up at him and swallowed nervously. Grick slowly lifted the platinum circlet sporting an enormous emerald off his hairless head and set it gently onto the pile. With equal care, he doffed a dozen or more heavy gold necklaces and set them aside. The goblin then stood up straight, wrung his hands nervously, and waited for whatever fate had in store for him.
Grick was terrified, but he would not cower before this human. He had been the slave of a very unpleasant wizard before who had subjected him to an unending amount of pain and humiliation. If the human wanted to kill him, so be it, but he would not whimper and cower.
“Aren’t you going to plead for your life or something, goblin?” Azerick asked.
Grick shook his head, which set his long ears wiggling. “No, Master Wizard. You are either going to kill Grick or you are not going to kill Grick, no matter if I beg or not. If you wish Grick dead then Grick will die with dignity.”
Azerick was impressed with the goblin’s reaction. He did not intend to harm the little creature; he was just interested in the goblin’s character. Everything he had read about goblins spoke of them all being cowardly and without honor or dignity. This goblin already intrigued the sorcerer by his demeanor.
“You are a very fortunate goblin. Do you know that, Grick?”
The goblin shook his head.
Azerick nudged a lump of gold coins with his foot that the teleportation spell had fused together as the individual coins had tried to occupy the same space at the same time. “That very well could have happened to you.”
Grick looked at the lump of gold, saw that there were several such amalgamations, and swallowed hard once again.
“You seem to have a great deal of luck surrounding you, Grick.”
“Most of it bad though, Master Wizard,” Grick insisted.
“I am not a wizard, Grick, I am a sorcerer.”
The goblin just nodded. Grick did not know the difference and could care less. If the human wanted to call himself a turkey-faced owl bear, then so be it. He was not going to argue with a wizard.
“How did you come to be sitting upon my treasure, Grick?”
“Humans chase Grick with mean dogs. Grick climb down hole and fell. Treasure break Grick’s fall—and his eggs.”
Azerick nodded as he put together what had happened. “Where is the rest of your tribe? Were they w
ith you when you stole the farmer’s eggs?”
Uh oh, the human realized that Grick had stolen eggs from the farmer. He wondered if he would administer justice himself or turn him over to the city watch, if there was one wherever he was. Either way, he was as good as dead.
“Grick no like living with other goblins, so I leave them long ago.”
“Can you kill rats, Grick?”
The goblin looked at Azerick and blinked.
“I have a rat problem. Are you good at killing rats? If so, I would like to offer you a job and a safe place to live.”
Grick bobbed his head eagerly. “Grick very good rat catcher, Master Sorcerer.”
“My name is Azerick. Would you like a job taking care of my rat problem, Grick?”
Grick looked at the wizard suspiciously. No human, much less a powerful wizard, or sorcerer, had ever been kind to him.
“You no use Grick for bad magic spells?”
Azerick smiled down at the little goblin. “No, Grick, I will not use any magic on you. I just need someone to catch rats for me.”
“Okay, Grick catch rats as long as you no use magic on him.”
Grick realized that he still had a long, ornate dagger hanging from a belt he had wrapped around his narrow waist twice to make it fit, took it off, and began to set it down.
Azerick held out his hand. “Let me see that a moment, Grick.”
Grick handed the belt and dagger over to the sorcerer. Azerick pulled the blade out and studied it. The long blade shone brightly from the reflected lamplight and came to a very fine point like a stiletto. The blade was a solid eight inches long and sharpened on both sides. The hilt was made of ivory covered with scrimshawed scrollwork.
“It is a nice blade, Grick, why don’t you keep it,” Azerick said, sliding the blade back into its tooled leather and silver capped sheath.
Grick took the blade back in wonder and wrapped the belt back around his waist. No one had ever given the goblin anything except a swift kick in the backside. No one had ever even been nice to him, and now this strange wizard gave him a knife worth more than a merchant probably makes in a year. Grick was unsure whether he should fear this sorcerer or worship him. He settled for simply following him.
“Come, Grick, you look hungry. Let us get you some food, and I will show you where you can stay.”
The goblin’s stomach growled its appreciation as he followed the sorcerer up the stone stairs and into the kitchen where four women were just starting to clean all the bowls from feeding the workers lunch. The women were chattering along as they are want to do but fell silent when Azerick entered the kitchen and saw the goblin trailing behind him.
“Ladies, this is Grick. He will be staying with us for a while. Please be polite and see that he gets plenty to eat,” Azerick ordered.
The women stared at the repulsive little goblin for a moment before the oldest one spoke up. “Well, he can’t be half as wild as that filthy little Wolf child.”
“Has he been on another of his raids?” Azerick asked, amused at Wolf’s refusal to be domesticated.
“Aye, the grubby little sneak thief darted in here, stole a whole roast chicken, and snatched a pie as he jumped out the window!” the head cook complained.
Azerick just laughed at the half-elf’s antics and left Grick in the care of the kitchen women.
“C’mon, Grick, pull yourself up a seat here and we’ll get ya fed,” the head cook told him.
Grick sat on a tall stool at the small table in the middle of the kitchen while the woman filled a large bowl with stew and gave him a small loaf of bread. Grick was amazed as he picked up the bread. It was actually soft in his hand, no weevils, and rolled oats covered it instead of mold. The stew was full of chunks of beef that had not spoiled and vegetables that obviously did not just come from a refuse pile.
He was still nervous around the humans and ate warily. He used the spoon the woman gave him as he had seen humans do on occasion. It felt awkward and that made him feel self-conscious. He knew that even the lowest of humans viewed him as little more than an animal, and he was determined not to give them further reason for thinking so.
“You see,” the head cook said to one of the other women, “he even eats nicer than Wolf.”
Grick had just finished his second bowl of stew and third roll of bread when the sorcerer returned.
“Ready to go see your room?” Azerick asked the goblin.
Grick nodded his head, slipped off the stool, and followed his new master up the newly built wooden stairs that encircled the inner wall of the tower. They came to the third floor, passed one door, and stopped in front of another. The sorcerer opened the door to a small room containing a bed, wooden trunk, desk, bookshelf, and a small window looking toward the mountain that abutted the rear of the tower.
“This will be your room for as long as you stay here, Grick. My room is through the other door you saw on this level. My apprentice has a room on the floor above this one. My head cook has a room just off the kitchen. We are the only three who actually live in the keep. My apprentice is a young girl named Ellyssa. You will see her around from time to time. I only require that you treat everyone with respect and courtesy, and I expect them to do the same for you. If you are mistreated by anyone, you are to tell me right away.”
“This is Grick’s room?” the goblin asked as he looked around the small room in awe.
“Yes. I know it is not very large, but it is the only other one that is finished, and since you don’t take up much space yourself I thought it would suffice,” Azerick replied with a smile.
Grick had never lived in a room so magnificent. An actual bed with real blankets and not some burlap bag he found in the trash! The other wizard made him sleep on the floor in the corner of his laboratory—when he allowed him to sleep at all.
“How long does Grick stay here?” he asked, wondering when the dream would end.
Azerick shrugged. “Until you choose to leave. If you decide that you do not like it here or find your job unsuitable, you are free to leave whenever you like. You are not a slave or a prisoner here, Grick. You may come and go as you please, but if you decide to leave, just let me know first.”
“Master Azerick is too kind to Grick. Grick never want to leave beautiful room and gracious master,” the goblin proclaimed with a sense of purpose and acceptance welling up inside him that he had never felt before.
“Good, I have a big rat problem, and I am glad to have someone to take care of it for me. Feel free to get yourself settled in. I am sure you are tired after a big lunch, not to mention being teleported.”
Grick nodded and walked farther into the room, inspecting the furniture and looking out the shuttered glass window. He had an actual glass window! Grick was living like a noble! The goblin turned around to face Azerick and express his appreciation once more, but the sorcerer had left him alone in the room. Grick faced back to the window, turned the brass handle, and swung it open. Breathing in the fresh air, he let out a sigh of utter contentment, crawled onto his bed, and fell blissfully asleep.
CHAPTER 4
The page ran down the hall, his soft leather shoes slapping a rapid cadence that echoed down the silent corridor. He came to a stop just outside the room of the man he was sent to fetch and adjusted his doublet before knocking sharply on the door.
“What is it?” Lord Alton demanded.
“Milord, his grace requires your presence in the study immediately,” the page called through the door, relaying the Duke’s orders.
The page leapt away when the elderly lord swung the door open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall and shoved past the startled underling. This was the first time the Duke had spoken to anyone since General Baneford’s betrayal. Alton hesitated outside the study for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing his way inside.
Duke Ulric was standing in front of the fireplace drinking a glass of chardonnay. Lord Alton had overseen the repair of the library after the Du
ke’s outburst, but evidence of the destruction was still present. Several of the bookshelves showed deep gouges and many of the shelves remained empty while a team of scribes continued to work diligently to repair the destroyed books. The walls were bare where tapestries once hung, pedestals that once displayed rare and expensive vases now stood empty, and the chairs had been replaced.
“Your Grace, you sent for me?” the chamberlain asked with trepidation.
“Yes, Alton, I have a mission for you. I need you to contact the Hell’s Legion mercenary company. Pay whatever price they demand,” Duke Ulric ordered.
“I assume they will be going after General Baneford and the other deserters.”
“No, I am not so petty a man that I would allow my anger and ego to deflect me from my true desire. Hell’s Legion will go on a pillaging spree throughout the kingdom, looting the cities and towns I designate. The people will cry out to their lords and the king, but they will not be able to protect them. My men, gallantly displaying my colors, will ride in to their rescue. We will stage mock battles where my army and I will drive off the invaders in a series of glorious victories. The people will see how inept and impudent their king is and beg me to claim the throne, sacred artifact be damned!”
The Duke’s eyes shone with a feral gleam as he detailed his plans to the chamberlain.
“It is a brilliant plan, Your Grace. I will see to the details immediately,” Alton assured his lord.
“Yes, I wish I had thought of it years ago and not wasted all this time on that fool’s errand. Once I am king, then I can devote my energy and resources to see that Baneford receives the punishment he so richly deserves.”
Ulric swirled the chardonnay in his glass, laughing as he imagined the tortures he would inflict on his erstwhile general.
***
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 70
