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

by Brock Deskins

  “You don’t think that loony old librarian knew what was going to happen?” Umair asked.

  Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know. She is definitely an odd bird, but look at what she gave us.”

  It was a mystery, one they were unlikely to get a clear answer to, so they just accepted it as a good omen and focused on getting out of Rapture. They made it to the west end of town where a large caravan was lining up to take a load of ill-gotten goods to Langdon’s Crossing. It took several minutes for Joshua and Umair to find the wagon master who was busy shouting at the drivers to get them in line.

  “Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment?” Joshua asked the wagon master.

  The portly, unshaven man looked at the two young men with undisguised impatience. “No, I don’t. Now quit bothering me, I’m already behind schedule.”

  “Then you would not be interested in having a few Black Tower spellcasters to help guard your wagons then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My friends and I are from the Black Tower. We would be willing to provide our support in exchange for food and transportation to Langdon’s Crossing.”

  “You look a bit young to me to be wizards.”

  Joshua cast a minor cantrip, and a small ball of flame floated above his open palm. The wagon master rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It would not be a bad idea to have wizard help in case of attack, and at the cost of food, it was a real bargain. The last time he hired a wizard for protection it had cost him more than a dozen swords would have. This was the worst time of year to be making this run too.

  “All right, you find yourselves room on the wagons, and I’ll see that you get fed all the way there, but don’t come asking for coin when we arrive. I’m doing you a favor by making room for you,” the wagon master told the two apprentices.

  “Yes, sir, thank you, you won’t regret it,” Joshua replied.

  Joshua and Umair sat atop a load of linens and various goods and studied the traveling spell books. No one under the rank of adept was allowed to keep his or her own spell book at the Black Tower. The wizards said it was too dangerous for the younger students to have access and was required to have a master with them when they practiced their studies. Joshua thought it was likely a way to control them.

  “I think the younger students should study some defensive spells to use on the guards. The little bit of offensive magic they could bring to bear simply wouldn’t make much of a difference in a large fight,” Joshua told Umair.

  “You, Maira, and I will be the ones to focus on the offensive magic while the younger students will prepare wards against arrows and weapons. Once they do that, they just need to stay out of the way if there’s trouble.”

  “It may not be a bad idea to familiarize them with one offensive spell so they can defend themselves in a pinch,” Umair suggested.

  “All right, they can do that. Then I want to assign the novices and journeymen to a pair of guards or a wagon. It will be their job to use their wards to protect the guards around that particular wagon.”

  “Do you really think we will be attacked? It’s only a few days to Langdon’s Crossing.”

  “I don’t know, Umair. If we are, I want to be ready. Our lives depend on being able to protect ourselves, at least for now.”

  “Josh, do you really think we should be going all the way to North Haven? It’s like a thousand miles from here. And on the word of some strange sorcerer who may have just destroyed the tower! Even if there is another school up there, what makes you think he or anyone else is going to be any better than the Tower wizards were?” Umair asked with a glance toward the column of dust that used to be their home and school.

  “You didn’t talk him, Umair. You did not see the look in his eyes or the—strength, and I don’t mean just magical strength, I mean strength of character and…I don’t know what. But if you had, if you had seen what I saw, you would understand.”

  Umair studied his friend’s face for several long moments then nodded. “All right, let’s do this then.”

  Joshua and Umair went to the other students, assigned them to a wagon, and explained their plan. Maira, the only adept among them, agreed with the logic of it and added her support. They passed the two spell books around so that everyone could study the spells they would need in case they had to defend themselves and the caravan.

  The wagons rolled out barely fifteen minutes after everyone was situated. The students studied for the rest of the daylight hours, and a few continued to prepare using the light of the campfire when they made their first stop for the night.

  Everyone was nervous and not just because of what happened at the tower, although that was almost the exclusive topic of fireside conversations that first night. Few of the young wizards had traveled far beyond the sight of Rapture. One of the tower wizards selected most of the students from local families.

  There was no real choice whether to attend. When a tower wizard spotted someone with magical talent, they simply informed the family, sometimes, and whisked the person away to the tower for indoctrination. No permission was asked and no recompense offered.

  Almost no student left the tower walls for the first three years of their training, training that consisted almost entirely of learning blind obedience to their masters. The attrition rate of students lost during apprenticing and experiments was almost one in five by the time one reached the rank of adept.

  Despite the terror the sorcerer caused during his escape and the fear of this unknown journey, nearly all of them were eager to leave the tower and looked forward to a new life even if it took them away from the families they once knew. If they returned to their families, assuming they would not shun them, they would return to a life of poverty. Despite the harsh environment within the tower, life was structured, and many found that studying magic was fulfilling and would not give it up easily.

  It began to look as though all of their planning was going to be in vain until the raiders struck the caravan just before dawn only a day out from Langdon’s Crossing. It was near dusk and almost time for the wagon train to make their last camp for the night. The desert looked peaceful and as empty as it had appeared for the past three days when a large number of horsemen erupted from a depression just a couple hundred yards from the trail they were traveling along.

  There must have been over fifty of them, all wearing light robes and head cloths to protect their flesh from the merciless sun. The Sumaran raiders shouted a trilling battle cry as they charged forward on their swift horses and swung their curved swords over their heads. They outnumbered the caravan guards at least three to one, and the chances of the traders’ survival looked grim.

  The young magic students moved just as they had practiced. In the Black Tower, one learned to follow instructions or face severe punishment. Many students who fell in disfavor had a tendency to disappear, a victim of one of the masters’ experiments. The younger students cast their wards onto the caravan guards just as two dozen arrows flew from the short, recurve bows carried by many of the raiders.

  Several caravan guards flinched as the arrows dropped amongst them but grinned broadly when the deadly shafts fell harmlessly around them. The guards returned with a volley from their crossbows, unseating several raiders before dropping the weapons and crossing steel with the attackers.

  Joshua, Umair, and Maira used their offensive spells before the raiders could reach the wagons. Lightning and bolts of magical power struck raiders from their saddles and caused nearby riders to lose control of their frightened mounts. But even with their arcane help, the raiders quickly closed with the caravan guards.

  The guards defended themselves well against the mounted raiders due in large part to the magical shields the novice and journeymen spellcasters conjured. Sword strikes that would have been crippling or even lethal glanced off or inflicted only minor wounds, arrows that should have pierced armor and skewered vital organs skipped away or halted to drop at the target’s feet.

  Joshua saw tha
t even with that protection, the raiders’ greater numbers and mounted advantage would soon overwhelm the guards and drivers. The apprentice conjured a massive sonic blast that sounded like a dozen thunderclaps exploding at once. Horses reared and threw their stunned riders to the ground, many of whom the guards cut down before they could regain their feet.

  Emily was a fourth year novice but a student in which her masters had seen a lot of potential. She hid under the wagon, watching the horrific battle unfold before her young eyes. Jebbada, one of the guards assigned to her, was fighting one of the bearded raiders right in front of her. The big Sumaran had Jebbada pinned against the wagon with his greater size and skill. The Sumaran slammed his buckler into Jebbada’s wrist, pinning his sword arm against the side of the wagon as he raised his blade for the killing blow.

  Jebbada turned his head away from the inevitable killing stroke but, before the Sumaran could bring his curved sword down to deliver it, Emily darted out from under the wagon. She spread her small fingers wide with her thumbs touching, and cast a jet of flame right into the man’s face, horribly burning his skin and setting his greasy beard on fire.

  The Sumaran dropped his sword and pressed both hands to his ruined face, screaming in terror and agony. Jebbada silenced his screams with a sword thrust through his heart. Laughing, Jebbada reached down, picked up Emily, and kissed her firmly on the cheek before shoving her back under the wagon and rushing to help another hard-pressed guard.

  The Sumaran raiders were taking heavy losses and were surely going to retreat but, just as it looked like they would break, another group of riders broke from cover and charged. The second group was half the size of the initial attack but, with the caravan guards just barely able to fight off the first group and shorter by several men due to casualties, the reinforcements were sure to overwhelm them.

  Unseen behind a low mound a short distance from the caravan, Agatha watched the reserve group of bandits break from cover and charge to help their sorely pressed comrades.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Agatha said bitterly and conjured a huge wall of fire just in front of the charging horses, causing them to rear up in panic as their riders jerked their reins to avoid the conflagration.

  With the reserve group halted, she sent magical bolt after bolt into them, dropping riders from their saddles and causing the others to flee. Seeing that their reserves had been neutralized, the bandits finally broke, running for their horses or leaping behind the saddle of one of their brethren and made for the safety of the desert.

  Seeing that her children were going to be all right now, Aggie smiled and walked away to make her way to North Haven. Her children needed to be strong and confident, and this little journey should help with that. As she disappeared behind the dunes once more, the deep wrinkles that covered her face smoothed out but did not entirely disappear. Her wispy white hair turned a darker grey and became thick and full, and she walked straight and proud with no sign of ever having walked with a stoop in her back.

  Joshua, Umair, and Maira ran down the line of wagons to check on the younger students and were gratified to find that none had gotten seriously hurt in the battle, although five of the guards suffered mortal wounds and six others had injuries that needed tended to before the wagons could move out.

  The wagon train arrived in Langdon’s Crossing well after nightfall thanks to the wagon master pushing his men and animals hard. Langdon’s Crossing was technically not on the sea, so after a great deal of thanks and a token payment from the caravan master, the former Black Tower students walked the three miles to the port of Langdon’s Crossing where a second town had sprang up to accommodate ship traffic. Technically, it was not a port. It had no sheltered coves, and the sea was too shallow to bring the large ships to shore, so all cargo had to be ferried out on large, shallow-drafting, flat-bottomed barges.

  Joshua, Umair, and Maira began asking around the taverns of the small shipping town about passage north. They had no idea how much a captain would charge for fifteen passengers to North Haven and prayed that they had enough. There was also the real fear of being offered passage then taken south and sold into slavery. Any captain who tried that was going to have his hands full with these ones Joshua vowed.

  In answer to their queries regarding passage to North Haven, the tavern owner pointed to a small group of sailors sitting at a table in the corner. All three nervously looked at the huge, graying minotaur that sat at the table with the other two men, but necessity reinforced their courage.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, might I have a moment of your time?” Joshua asked, keeping a wary eye on the formidable minotaur.

  Joshua knew from his readings that minotaurs were prone to sudden outbursts of anger and were easily provoked.

  The older man at the table turned and faced them with a friendly smile. “Name’s Zeb, what can I do for you young‘uns?”

  “Mr. Zeb, my friends and I are looking to book passage to North Haven. The man at the bar said that you and your ship are out of that city and would be returning soon. Would you be able to take on a few passengers? It is very important we get to North Haven.”

  Zeb rubbed his chin. “Depends, is it just you three?”

  “No, sir, there are fifteen of us in all,” Joshua replied.

  “Fifteen! Hm, that’s gonna take up a lot of space, and we would have to purchase more provisions. I suppose we could make room, but it ain’t gonna be comfortable, and it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

  Joshua took out the small pouch of coins Aggie had put in the satchel, added it to the few that the caravan master paid them for saving his cargo, and handed it to the old sailor.

  “That is every coin we have, sir.”

  Zeb poured the coins out in his hand and frowned. “It ain’t much. Barely gonna cover your food.”

  “Please, sir, we must get to North Haven,” Maira begged. “We are all young and can work hard, scrubbing the decks or mending sails, whatever you need us to do.”

  Zeb thought a moment and groaned. “I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty young lass, and it ain’t like I haven’t hauled a bunch of kids north before. Becoming a regular habit these days. All right, but you’ll all work.”

  “We will, sir, you have our word,” Joshua swore.

  “Pfft, don’t need a boy’s word when I can just have Toron here pitch any slackers overboard.” All three students paled, being unfamiliar with the Zeb’s humor, and Toron’s toothy grin did nothing to assuage their fears. “Why are you all so hot to get to North Haven for anyway?”

  “A sorcerer named Azerick told us to find our way to North Haven and ask there about a place called the Orphans’ Academy. Do you know of it?”

  Zeb, Balor, and Toron all leaned forward with eager excitement.

  “You’ve seen Azerick? Where, when?” Zeb asked.

  “A few days ago in Rapture. Do you know him?”

  “Know him? He owns this ship!” Zeb laughed. “He’d have my hide if I didn’t get you kids to North Haven even if I had to toss half my cargo overboard to make room!” Zeb tossed the pouch with its meager coins back to Joshua.

  “What was he doing in that horrid place, was he all right?” Balor asked.

  Joshua and the others took a seat and explained everything they knew about what had happened to Azerick, from his capture to the destruction of the tower. In the morning, they were all aboard Zeb’s ship and sailing north to their new home and future.

  ***

  General Baneford strode around the camp his soldiers efficiently raised around him. It was the third camp they had erected in the past five days, so he expected nothing less than absolute proficiency from his men. Satisfied, he returned to his command tent to try, and likely fail, to relax before he felt compelled to pull up stakes and move to another spot. He despised this running and hiding, but the last thing he needed was a bunch of angry wizards blasting him and his men to charred little pieces for his failure to hold up his end of the bargain.

  The General’s f
ace betrayed his shock for just a moment before he commanded it to neutrality when his eyes set upon the black-robed wizard sitting comfortably on one of his field chairs. With a resigned sigh, he crossed the tent, opened his small wine cabinet, and filled two crystal goblets with the rich, red beverage.

  “I had not expected you to find me so quickly,” Baneford told the wizard as he passed him the glass of wine and sat in his chair.

  “I will admit, it took me longer than I had expected,” Krendall replied and savored the fine wine.

  “Not long enough.”

  “Ah, so you were avoiding me,” the wizard mused. “I take it things did not go as planned?”

  General Baneford scoffed. “Far from it. The changeling you sent to infiltrate that group of misfits got himself killed. What I thought was the changeling was actually the wizard he was supposed to have killed and replaced. Things went really bad from there.”

  “I take it he did not give you the helm, then.”

  “Oh no, he gave it to me. Then he destroyed the entire suit.”

  Krendall swished his drink around in his mouth, obviously deep in thought. Baneford assumed he was considering the different ways in which to kill him. The wizard’s reaction was the last thing Baneford had expected. He laughed.

  “Let me guess. He wore dark clothing, hazel green eyes, average build, carried a rather magnificent burgundy staff with an arcanum ball on top?”

  The General gaped. “Yes, that’s him! You know him?”

  “We had an encounter just outside of our tower in Rapture. He is a sorcerer, by the way, not a wizard,” Krendall replied, still chuckling. “I cannot believe I did not realize it was the same man Ballizarr sent the changeling after.”

  “What happened to him, did you kill him?”

  “I left him unconscious with one of my associates. I fear his future looked rather bleak when I departed. Shakrill probably used him as a vessel for this insane plan she has to summon a demon prince to serve her. I had no desire to hang around for the event seeing that whether she succeeded or failed, my future and position within the tower looked rather grim.”