“I am glad to know that you appreciate my suffering,” he replied, returning her good-natured ribbing.
Delinda was forced to eat a hurried breakfast before returning to her duties. Azerick took the time to drink a second cup of tea before bidding Cook farewell and resuming his own studies and tasks. As much as he wanted to resume reading the new tome, he needed to continue studying. He had not yet mastered the portal spell and he wanted to have it ready before his next battle.
As luck would have it, Azerick managed to squeeze in another week of study before Lord Xornan found him in the library to inform him that his next bout would be in two weeks. Good fortune and hard work paid off for him once again as he completed the portal spell the very next week.
He spent the remainder of the week honing it and the other spells he had learned to battlefield effectiveness. It took endless long nights and early mornings to accomplish, but by the time the day of his battle arrived, he had perfected his spells to the highest degree of proficiency he could expect given the time he had available.
A couple of the gladiators looked at him with increased hostility, but the vast amount of the fighters showed him increased respect and acceptance as Braunlen got him prepared. Azerick was now in a higher fighting bracket so he was able to retain the magical items he used in the last fight and would do so until a loss moved him back down—assuming he survived a loss, which few did.
The only thing he knew about this fight was that his opponent was a creature and not a fighter. Gladiators were often pitted against powerful and dangerous animals nearly as often as they were against more intelligent, humanoid opponents. In fact, as a fighter gained in popularity they increasingly fought against creatures to increase the likelihood of their continued survival while still providing a good show for the crowd.
The crowd cheered as Azerick entered the arena, chanting his name, and stomping their feet. Despite his disgust at being forced to fight and kill for someone else’s pleasure, his pride, and perhaps even a small part of his ego, could not help but find a small bit of satisfaction in the recognition he received. The adulations went on for several long minutes before subsiding. The clinking and rattling of chains drew his and the audience’s attention to the other gate as it slowly opened.
One of the strangest creatures Azerick had ever seen cautiously emerged from the dark portal. It was a huge beast nearly twice the length and height of a large bull. It sported six squat but powerfully thick legs. Its hide was the color of stone and covered with large, fish-like scales the size of serving trays. It had a long flat face that ended in a short, boney muzzle. Its wide head sported horns, each as long as Azerick’s arm, sticking straight out above its small, beady eyes. It snuffled loudly as it swung its armor-plated head back and forth.
He cast his duplicate spell and his illusory clones sprang out around him, shifting positions every few seconds to help confuse his enemy. Given the way the creature was casting its head about, Azerick assumed that the creature probably had rather poor eyesight, but it immediately tensed up as it apparently picked up his scent. The creature seemed to stare straight at the sorcerer as its small, round ears twitched towards him and took another deep breath through its nostrils.
It sounded a long, loud trumpeting challenge and charged directly at him, not falling for his magical trick. Despite the creature’s great mass, those thick legs propelled it across the arena at a fantastic speed. It would likely not win any endurance runs, but its sprinting ability was incredible.
Azerick released a lightning bolt straight at the creature’s broad head. Twin, bright white bolts limned in crackling blue energy forked out at the rushing creature and scored black burns across its thick, scaly plates. The creature let out a bugle of either pain or anger, but it did not slow or deviate from its course in the least.
Azerick dodged aside to avoid being trampled under several tons of charging flesh and bone. He avoided the pounding flat feet, but two of his images were less fortunate. The great ivory horns and the creature’s own girth tore through them, rending them to mist and disappeared. He rolled to his feet and launched a stream of magical bolts into the armored grey side as it spun about for another charge.
Despite the great mass and inertia of the creature, it managed to spin about and reverse its charge with startling rapidity. He tried to dodge again, but the little space it had was still sufficient for the animal to get a full head of steam and clipped his hip, spinning him painfully to the ground. It spun around for a third pass as Azerick painfully picked himself up, trying to ignore his throbbing bruised thigh. He barely had enough time to cast his dimensional gate and jump through before the beast trampled the ground where he had just been standing a second before.
His magical gate deposited him close to the wall of the far side of the arena. The beast cast its head about and charged as soon as it picked his scent up once again. He launched a bright fiery arrow and struck the creature directly in its broad chest, but its only reaction was a trumpet of rage as it lowered its horns in another attempt to skewer its antagonist.
Azerick opened up another gate and leapt through just in time once more, finding himself nearly at the distant end of the arena. He shook off the disorienting effects of traveling through the dimensional doorway as the massive beast charged across the arena after him. Azerick raised his arms and uttered a string of arcane words. Stone spikes erupted from the ground directly in the charging animal’s path.
The beast tore through the deadly obstacle without slowing, shattering the granite-hard spears with little more than some deep scoring on its armor-plated hide.
Azerick was forced to escape the beast’s wrath once more by way of his gate spell. He was becoming truly alarmed at the ineffectiveness of his spells to cause any significant damage to the six-legged juggernaut. He wracked his mind for a solution to his dilemma as the monster bore down on him once more.
An idea finally formulated in his mind. As the beast neared, intent on killing the small, annoying creature in front of it, he cast his dimensional portal once again. However, instead of fleeing through it, he dove to the side at the last moment. The raging beast plowed straight through the magical doorway where it immediately emerged on the other side of the arena a scant number of feet from the magically reinforced rock wall.
Unable to arrest its charge, the creature slammed into the immobile barrier at a dead sprint. With all of its considerable mass behind it, the long ivory horns broke against the stone and a sickening crack could be heard even above the sound of the bone-jarring impact.
Several spectators jumped from their seats the instant they saw the beast heading straight at them despite the protection of the wall before them. They sat back down with nervous laughs at their own reaction as the beast sank down onto the ground.
Azerick strode nearer the doomed creature and saw that blood was streaming out of its nose and spattering the wall as it huffed in short, panting breaths. The victorious sorcerer looked sympathetically into the beast’s small, black eyes as they slowly glazed over and it breathed out its last rattling breath.
He felt disgusted at the senseless loss and his own feeling of pride for the cheers of the people around him, people he saw as more of an animal or monster than the unfortunate creature that lay dead before him.
He walked slowly back towards the gate that would allow him to leave the arena and the cheers of the audience behind him. He no longer cared for their adulations and remained silent all the way back to the mansion. Even when his master commented on his performance and cleverness in defeating the creature in such an unorthodox manner, he merely grunted and shrugged in reply. Lord Xornan did not let on that he sensed his fighter’s dismay, but Azerick was certain that the psyling knew exactly how he felt and why, just as he knew that his evil master took pleasure in his consternation.
Delinda met him in the courtyard as she always did and blissfully threw herself into his arms when she saw that he had returned unharmed. Azerick returned her embra
ce but not her joy, and she clearly felt it in his touch. She did not say anything then, instead choosing to follow him as he plodded up the stairs and retreated to his room.
“You seem unhurt. What troubles you so much?” she asked as soon as the door closed behind them.
“I fought a creature today. Not a man or anything close to the intelligence of a man,” he softly replied.
“Why does that bother you so? I know you do not like fighting for their amusement, but never have I seen you this upset by doing what you must.”
Azerick’s face darkened with renewed anger. “A man or anything close to such knows why it in the arena and what he must do whether he is a willing participant or not. That beast knew no such thing. It was taken from its home and put into the arena to be slaughtered. It was not evil. It had no particular hate or desire to kill me personally. It saw me as a threat or perhaps an interloper into its territory and defended itself as its nature dictated. It may not even have had those primal instincts directing it. The gods know what these bug-faced monsters did to its mind to make it fight! It was an innocent! It was even more of a slave than I am! I swear I will make these creatures pay for what they do to us!” he shouted as his pent up anger came to a boil.
“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry you have to kill to survive, but I would be sorrier if you had not come back to me,” she whispered, holding him tightly and rocking him in her arms in an attempt to console him.
Azerick’s rage eventually turned into exhaustion, and he fell into a fitful slumber in her arms. He woke sometime after the sun had set. Delinda was lying beside him, sleeping contentedly so he simply wrapped her in an embrace and fell back to a more restful sleep.
Azerick returned to his regular duties of organizing and cataloging the assortment of items in his master’s vault. He spent far more time reading than actually delving into the secrets of many of the artifacts but he ensured that he spent enough time each day doing the latter so as not to appear that he was neglecting his tasks. The peace he found by losing himself into the books around him was short lived.
You will fight in the arena in two weeks. This will likely be the most difficult battle you have faced thus far, and the most important one to me.
Azerick looked up from the ancient book he was studying and saw the psyling standing in the now open doorway. Azerick wondered how the creature could move so quietly. Maybe he used his abilities to block his presence from his mind. Azerick quickly discarded these ponderings as unimportant as his master continued to address him.
One of my archrivals has challenged me personally, and the wagers are exceptionally high. It is a personal challenge so his fighter has not advanced through the rankings. I do not know the strength or capabilities of his champion, but he must have gained possession of a gladiator of exceptional power to be so confident of his success. Need I remind you of the consequences of disappointing me?
“No, you don’t,” Azerick replied tersely.
Do not fail me.
Azerick told Delinda of his upcoming battle and she was even more worried than usual.
“I have been distilling another healing potion since before your last battle in order to make it as potent as I could. I will start another one now. It will not be as strong as the first one, but it will help,” she told him nervously.
“You do not seem to have much confidence in me if you think I will be injured so badly,” Azerick answered with a small grin.
“I know of this other creature that has challenged Lord Xornan. They are bitter rivals, and he would not have made such a public challenge unless he was supremely confident of his chances to win. I am sure you will be victorious, my mind will not allow me to think otherwise, but it is sure to be a most difficult battle and we both must face the fact that it is unlikely you will emerge unscathed, so it is best that we be prepared for it.”
Azerick hugged her closely, grateful for her support. “I am glad to have you by my side.”
Azerick spent the time he had practicing his spells. He tried different combinations and tried to imagine every possible scenario ahead of time so that he could react quickly and properly. When the day of his fight came, Azerick stepped out into the courtyard to accompany his master to The Games. He was surprised to see Delinda standing next to Lord Xornan and the palanquin. She was standing resolutely, prepared for an argument, with a canvas satchel hung over one shoulder.
“Delinda, what are you doing here?” Azerick asked.
“Lord Xornan has agreed to allow me to go with you to the arena. I brought the potions with me. The sooner they are administered the more effective they will be.”
Azerick was going to argue but the determined look in her eyes showed that he could not dissuade her. “Will you be watching the battle?”
“No, I will stay with Braunlen in the trainer’s room.”
“Good, this is not something I would wish you to see,” Azerick replied with relief.
“Nor would I,” she said quietly.
The two humans and the psyling loaded into the palanquin and was borne on the wide shoulders of the minotaurs to the arena. Delinda squeezed Azerick’s hand the entire way to the arena and did not let go until they were in Braunlen’s training room.
“I think you got a hard fight on your hands this time, lad,” Braunlen told him gravely.
“Can you tell me anything about him?” asked Azerick.
“It’s a she, and an abyssal elf. Rumor has it she is a wizard too.”
“I have to fight a woman?” Azerick asked unsurely.
Delinda’s face darkened. “You’re damn right you have to fight a woman, and you will hit her with everything you have! You had better not take it easy on her just because it’s a girl. You can be she sure won’t do the same for you.”
“She’s right, kid. Don’t go soft just because she’s a she. She is an abyssal elf to boot. Abyssal elves are a mean bunch and masters of magic. They look down on surface races as being inferior in every way. They are fast and smart, so you better be on your toes,” the dwarf instructed.
“All right, I’ll do my best.”
Azerick prepared himself as he entered the arena to include a magic shield spell that helped to protect him from magical attacks. Azerick was a crowd favorite by now and they cheered loudly for him as he entered the fighting pit.
The crowd fell suddenly silent as the abyssal elf entered through the other gate. She was shorter than he was, but not by much. She strode with the grace and surety of a queen. Her skin was stark white like fresh fallen snow and it contrasted eerily with her large, black eyes. Her silver hair hung in a tight braid down her back, reaching past her waist. She wore a pair of tight-fitting black breeches and tunic. A short black cape or cloak trailed down her back, split down the center by her braided hair. She would have been startlingly beautiful if it were not for the aura of menace that radiated from her.
The official dropped the kerchief and both casters broke into the chanting and hand waving of spell casting. Azerick’s spell was a minor one and quick to cast. His illusory duplicates sprung out around him to confuse his enemy of his true location. The elf reached into one of the many pouches on a wide belt circling her waste and drew forth a reagent needed for her own casting.
Azerick quickly deduced the intent of the spell and bolted quickly to the left as the wizard flung her hand forward. A massive ball of fire erupted a scant second later where he had just been standing. He felt the searing heat wash over his back, but his quick thinking and spell shield saved him from some serious burns.
He retaliated with a lightning bolt the instant he leapt to his feet. He saw the telltale flicker of it meeting the spell shield of the abyssal elf. What little energy got through seemed to do little if any harm to the alabaster-skinned wizard.
Frustrated, he began another spell as the abyssal elf completed her follow up spell. Azerick did not notice any immediate effects, nor did he recognize the spell she cast. He threw his hand forward and launched a heavy
arrow of fire straight at his opponent.
He stared in shock as the wizard suddenly disappeared. He spun around and found her several yards off to his right. Bolts of arcane power slammed into him before he could ready himself. His shield absorbed most of them, but two managed to penetrate and sting him smartly.
Azerick began another spell as the abyssal elf blinked away once more. He looked frantically for her to reappear and launched another lightning bolt at her as soon as she popped into existence. The electrical charge caught her squarely and sent her staggering several steps backward.
She cursed something in a language resembling elven, but it sounded darker and more sinister in tone. Azerick made out the words man, human, and what he assumed was a powerful expletive before she blinked away again. Azerick tried to locate her before she could retaliate, but he was too slow in discovering her new location. She appeared only a score of yards away and brought her palms together in front of her with her fingers splayed outward at an angle forming a V lying on its side.
A swirling vortex of skin-numbing frost erupted from her delicate, white hands. The icy blast caught Azerick full on despite his best attempt to dodge the attack. He felt his clothes stiffen and his skin burn from the sub-zero assault. He forced his frozen fingers to obey and hastily cast his portal spell to get away from the current kill zone. He escaped just in time as another fireball burst directly over the area he just escaped.
It was the abyssal elf’s turn to scan the arena for him before he got the jump on her. Her own dislocation spell now worked against her as she tried to search the grounds while her position changed every few seconds. Azerick released his spell the instant his opponent blinked back into view. Stone spikes erupted from the earth and covered a large patch of ground with their deadly, sharp tips.
The elf amazingly spun away, somehow avoiding the stabbing stone spears enough to keep from being impaled. One of the tips did manage to tear a deep gouge in her left hip and thigh. Instead of cursing him in anger or outrage, she actually smiled and nodded in appreciation at the human’s clever spell.
The Sorcerer's Torment (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 12
