“These are most likely only a few who have managed to find a crack in the wall and slip through. There is little we can do to deal with them. The same thing with the dragons. We cannot start sending out our wizards to stamp out small fires like these, or we will soon leave Southport under-defended. The people will have to do the best they can. Are the dragon attacks threatening our food supply?”
“Minimally. Most livestock and grain stores have been moved to the valley and the nearby caves in anticipation of the incursion. However, if the Scions do not invade soon, that will change as we consume what has been set aside for our current position.”
“I would not worry about that, Luca. The bells have already started to toll the midnight hour. The increased appearance of these ravagers is proof that the Scions’ prison is failing, and they will soon begin their invasion in earnest. Put our people on alert and in position. We will stand three shifts of eight hours in a full deployment. All troops will sleep at the ready, no getting comfortable. I assume Commandant Reese already has his soldiers doing the same, but update him on our perceived timetable.”
“Yes, Headmaster, but what of the personnel and expenditure reports?”
“Stack them next to the privy where they can be of some use. The first thing I need you to do is find Magus Skinner and send him to me immediately. I will be awaiting him in my office.”
Luca clasped his hand in front of his chest, gave a short bow, and left in search of Magus Skinner. Headmaster Florent climbed the winding stairs to her office and set a pot of tea over an oil-fueled burner. She could have used her magic to bring the water to an instant boil, but she thought it tasted better brewed naturally. The kettle began to whistle and Maureen poured herself a cup. She began to bring it to her lips before setting the cup back down, pulling a flask from her desk drawer, and adding a liberal dose of whiskey to it. She smiled as the brew burned a line down her throat and felt her nerves ease just a touch. A knock at her door instantly destroyed her moment of relaxation.
“Come in.”
A bald man of slightly larger than average size stepped into her office and made a loose, clasped-handed salute. “Headmaster.”
“Magus Skinner, I have a task for you.”
“I hope it is more interesting than teaching children which end of the wand is dangerous.”
“I promise you, this is something far better suited to your abilities. Open that parcel,” the Headmaster instructed with a nod to the bundle lying on her desk.
Magus Skinner stepped closer, untied the cord securing the bundle, and unrolled the heavy fabric to reveal the swords within. “Swords?”
“Saint Swords,” Maureen clarified. “You know of the sorcerer Azerick Giles, but do you know what he is?”
Magus Skinner gave a curt nod. “I’ve heard things.”
“They are likely all true or near to it. The King has decided he is a threat to the people, and I and the Bishop agree with him. These swords are blessed by Solarian to kill demons. One of the Church’s men is in possession of one, and I shall be taking two of them to Jarvin. I want you to take the other.”
“You want me to kill the demon sorcerer?”
“Yes, but not until this war is over. Azerick’s power is likely the key to our having a chance at victory. He cannot die until the Scions are defeated. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. It seems a bit ungrateful to kill the man who saves the kingdom though.”
“It certainly is. Is this going to be a problem for you?”
Skinner shook his head. “Naw, just appreciating the irony of it.”
The headmaster drummed her fingers on her desk. “You should know this is likely a suicide mission. If you try and fail, Azerick will certainly destroy you. If you succeed, his son or any number of his followers will leap to avenge him.”
“There are worse ways to die. Besides, it sounds like there’s a good chance I won’t live long enough to make the attempt.”
“You have to. Stay back of the main battle as best you can, and maneuver yourself close to him. Your job is to stay alive long enough to complete your mission. Let the others fight these gods and their minions.”
“All right. What do you want me to do now?”
“Stick close to one of the gates. When we evacuate the city, you should be one of the first people through. Same thing when we flee Brightridge.”
“You really think we’ll lose both cities?”
“Azerick is certain we will, and I trust his assessment.”
Magus Skinner barked a short laugh and shook his head. “Politics.”
“It is not politics, Magus. I would never condone such action for the sake of politics. This is to ensure everything we have fought so hard for isn’t for naught. If we manage to defeat the Scions but leave Azerick Giles alive, we have only traded one master for another. He has demonstrated on many occasions his willingness and ability to strip us of choice and force us to do as he commands. For now, it may be for our own good, but it will not always be that way.”
“If you say so, Headmaster.”
Maureen poured herself another cup of tea when Skinner left, but no matter how much she spiked it, it could not drown out the bitter taste in her mouth. She damned the Scions for tearing apart the kingdom even before they engaged in the first real battle. She damned the gods for making Azerick into a weapon so dangerous his existence was nearly as great a threat as the fallen gods were. She damned Jarvin and the rest of humanity for giving into their fear instead of doing what was right. Lastly, she damned herself for agreeing with the necessity of their decision.
She retied the two remaining swords into a bundle and stood to complete her task. The Headmaster took two steps toward the door before turning about and pouring one last drink that was more whiskey than tea. Maureen shuddered as the strong drink invaded her system and hastened out the door a bit unsteady on her feet.
The small, permanent gate to Castle Stonemount was built into a tiny room just beyond her office. If it were any smaller, it would be a closet, and it was intentionally created so. The room at the other end was equally small and heavily guarded, which prevented any attempt at a large-scale invasion directly into the castle should anyone gain access to the gate. Maureen thought it rather ridiculous seeing as how The Academy would have to fall for that to happen, but then she considered the treacheries Jarvin has faced during his reign and conceded there was some validity to such precautions.
She was able to activate the small gate without a team of mages and stepped into the small chamber. The Headmaster staggered and fell against Castle Stonemount’s teleport chamber wall. Only by gripping the stone with the palms of her hands and splaying her legs wide did she prevent herself from falling into an ignoble heap. As terrible as using the gates were, doing so under the influence of alcohol was outright miserable, and she deeply regretted those drinks.
She stepped out of what was once a closet and into a respectably appointed sitting room. A stout door covered in mystic sigils blocked the only way out. She knew the guards outside were already aware of her presence, so she sat on a sofa and waited. Maureen had created the wards on the door herself and knew it could not be opened except from the outside. She did not mind, and in fact was grateful for the respite in order to catch her balance. It would not do to see the King if she was staggering and slurring her words like a drunkard. She wanted to blame her condition entirely on the portal, but she knew it was only partially responsible for her unsteadiness.
The Headmaster sat up straight when the door opened a few minutes later. A dozen well-armed men pushed into the room followed by a woman of middle age, her blond hair showing streaks of grey to accent the faint lines contouring her face.
“Headmaster,” the woman greeted with a bow and clasped hands.
“Jillian, how are you?”
“Tired and a bit stressed. I have detected some interdimensional disturbances. Are the Scions still contained?”
“We believe so, but it cannot be long
now. You must ensure the King gets to one of the gates no matter his protests.”
Jillian smiled. “Have no fear of that. I will truss him up and push him through the portal myself if I have to. Let his Blackguard complain all they like. Are you here to see him?”
“I am, and I would like to be done with it quickly.”
Jillian turned and faced the cluster of guards. “Clear a path, you goons! The Headmaster has urgent business with His Highness.”
The soldiers parted and Jillian led the Headmaster down the hall. Unlike the portal room back at The Academy, this one was far from Jarvin’s personal quarters, and it took several minutes of brisk walking to reach his residential wing.
“How goes Brelland’s preparations?” Maureen asked her fellow mage.
“Diligently. We have gotten a flood of people fleeing into the city already. So many in fact that we wanted to begin sending them to the valley, but Azerick’s people insisted we wait for fear of the Scions discovering our final redoubt too soon. There is a veritable tent city set up within the valley, mostly unoccupied as of yet. Conditions are going to be terrible when most of Valeria seeks refuge there.”
“When the fighting starts, most people will be moved to the caverns. How are the excavations coming?”
“Very well. Your metal men and their young controllers were sent to the valley weeks ago per your instructions. They and several companies of soldiers have been constructing defenses and such—the most we dared send without drawing attention. The constructs are excellent diggers and have enlarged the natural caverns considerably. Even so, I fail to see how we can shelter a fraction of our population inside them.”
“Simply put, we will only have a fraction of our population alive to seek shelter,” the Headmaster answered grimly.
“I see. His Majesty is waiting for you inside. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No thank you, Jillian, this is for the King’s ears only.”
Jillian clasped her hands and ducked her head before leaving Headmaster Florent standing in front of the door leading to Jarvin’s study. Taking a deep breath to steel her courage, the Headmaster gripped the door handle and pushed inside.
King Jarvin Ollander stood next to an unlit fireplace and stared vacantly into a glass of brandy. His exhaustion and the effects of stress was clearly displayed in the way he held himself, the shadowed eyes, and the significant increase of grey streaking his normally dark auburn hair. He turned when the Headmaster walked in and smiled, but it was a forced thing and held no real warmth.
“Headmaster, it is good to see you.”
“Really? I am having a hard time finding anything good about this or any meeting I have had of late.”
Jarvin gave a humorless chortle. “Nor I, truthfully. Not this one nor any I have had in the last…I don’t even know anymore. Any pleasant memories I have seems to belong to another life.” His eyes fixed upon the bundle in the Headmaster’s arms. “You have something for me?”
Maureen deposited her burden on the table and displayed the two swords contained within. Jarvin crossed the room and studied the pair of blades, silently running a finger along the unadorned hilt and razor-sharp edge of one.
“Does it really come down to something as simple as a sword thrust?” Jarvin asked absently.
“We will be lucky if it is as simple as that. If it proves not to be, we will likely find ourselves in a great deal of trouble.”
“It just seems so…mortal.”
“We mortals have always found assassination to be a simple solution to our problems. Are you certain this is how you wish to deal with this one?”
Real emotion filled the void of Jarvin’s dispassion. “I am not certain about anything these days! Azerick Giles was one of the few people I considered a friend no matter how strained that relationship was. I respected and trusted him more than any other because of that. He saved my life, my crown, and this kingdom, so do not think this is an easy choice for me. The Azerick I named as Friend of the Crown and the one who attended your school died in Sumara.”
“He came back,” Maureen pointed out.
“Not all of him. Not the part that made him human, and I am not speaking of his appearance. Only part of Azerick returned to us, and he did not come back alone. I do not know if the part of him he lost or the dark passenger that returned with him is the danger, but I cannot trade one threat to our existence for another.”
“Do you not think we could reason with him, ask him to leave and never return?”
“Possibly,” Jarvin conceded. “Maybe even probably, but I cannot risk the lives of everyone in my kingdom on probably. Even if he left, we have no assurance he would stay gone. He might return decades, centuries later just like the Scions and dictate our path if he feels we are traveling the wrong one. You saw how quickly he struck down Lord Atwater for opposing him.”
“Lord Atwater opposed you as well,” the Headmaster reminded the King. “He violated the law you set down and jeopardized the entire war effort.”
“What Azerick did was not an act of justice but of expediency.”
“Is not what we are doing exactly the same thing?”
Jarvin sighed and his shoulders slumped in exasperation. “I thought you agreed this had to be done?”
“I do. I am merely playing Sharrellan’s advocate. I know you to be a man of conscience, and I want to make sure you are certain of your decision and role in all this. Your grief and guilt is your own, and you will be the one who has to live with it.”
Jarvin dropped into a chair, propped his elbows on the table, and held his head in his hands. “I have accepted my role, but I thank you for questioning me. A good King needs someone to challenge his decisions. Tell me about these swords. Can they do this task quickly and cleanly?”
“The Bishop believes so, and so do I. He told me they were blessed by Solarian to slay creatures of a demonic nature. Because of Azerick’s transformation, he should be susceptible to their power. There are two others, each given to one of my and the Bishop’s agents. Spreading them out seemed the best way to give at least one of our assassins the chance to strike at him.”
“I agree. I will not ask as to their identity. Secrets are best kept when no one knows them.” Jarvin buckled one of the swords around his waist. “I will give one to my most capable Blackguard and carry the other myself. I will not ask anyone to do something as distasteful as this without having the courage to do it myself. Do we know Azerick’s whereabouts at this time? It would be best to keep very close tabs on him to get our agents near.”
“My last report stated he had transported one of his towers outside of our world. He has not yet returned.”
“Is his length of absence normal?”
“How in the abyss should I know? Nothing of what he does is normal, and much of it is beyond my understanding.”
“What of the Scions? If he is gone, who is guarding their prison?”
“His odd son remains behind, but I am given to understand there is nothing he can do to further slow their escape.”
“Is it odd for me to be praying for Azerick’s quick return knowing I intend to kill him later?”
“If it is, then we are both deeply disturbed people.”
CHAPTER 11
“Where is he?” Miranda shouted, her anxiety increasing with every hour Azerick failed to return.
It was now the second day since Azerick and the tower disappeared. Everyone had remained hopeful the first day, assuming Azerick was simply creating defenses to further conceal and protect the tower, but as dawn of the second day slowly crept over the horizon, many began to fear something terrible had happened.
“We aren’t sure,” Allister answered calmly. “The passage of time gets a little strange when you start slipping between worlds and realities. It could be only a couple hours has passed where he’s at. Do you remember how it was when he was in the abyss? Far more time passed for us than it did him.”
“But what happened? Where is
he? Do we know anything at all?” she demanded. Her voice quavered with fear and she stood on the verge of tears.
Aggie said, “I have tried to scry him out, but my skill cannot pierce the veil between worlds. I’m sorry, Miranda.”
Raijaun added, “We do know the spell was successful and that the tower and Father reached the location he sought. I cannot glean any more information than that.”
“I knew this was going to happen! I knew one these insane ideas of his were going to fail and he would never return! Does he even think about the people he is leaving behind and how much they depend on him? Does he care?”
Aggie stood and embraced Miranda. “Of course he cares. He cares so much that he is willing to risk his life to protect us all.”
“For once I wish he would just protect me, and yes, I know exactly how selfish that sounds, but he’s my husband. Isn’t a wife allowed to be selfish once in a while?”
“Of course you are, dear.” Miranda buried her face into the older woman’s shoulder. “We both know that if your roles were reversed, there is nothing you would not do to defend your people, even if it meant sacrificing your own desires. Your heart is aching and cries out, but your mind knows Azerick is doing what he must.”
“I am so afraid, Aggie,” Miranda sobbed. “My son is gone, and if I lose Azerick, I will have no one left.”
Several sets of eyes sought out Raijaun, but no one commented. Raijaun glanced at floor but showed no other outward sign of having been hurt by her statement. Miranda was frightened and grieving, so they let her vent her frustrations.
Aggie turned her toward the kitchen. “Come, let us sit and have tea in silence while the others figure out a way to find that fool husband of yours.”
“Does anyone have any ideas on how to bring Azerick back or at least find out where he is?” Rusty asked after Miranda was out of the room.
“We know where he is, or at least where he was,” Raijaun answered.
“Azerick said something about the elves having their spell go awry. Could that have happened to him? Could he and the tower have gone somewhere else?”
The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 18
