The Sorcerer's Torment (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

Miranda continued to ask questions while Azerick continued to dodge most of them and Captain Brague kept trying to split them apart. Otis interrupted Azerick and Miranda’s mostly one-sided conversation about two hours into the ride.

  “I think I see my beauties up ahead!” the driver called over his shoulder gleefully.

  True enough, as they drew closer the white shapes far ahead resolved into the spooked team of horses that the driver had been able to free before they destroyed the coach or injured themselves in their panic. Otis rode ahead quickly but cautiously, trying to avoid spooking them again.

  He slipped off the side of the horse that he had commandeered and walked towards the magnificent team that was still trailing their traces and attached to the long tongue of the coach that he had freed by pulling the linchpin.

  Otis slowly approached the team, calling out to each of the horses by name in a soft voice. The horses flicked their ears and looked about warily but did not bolt. The driver went about pulling the pins that attached the heavy piece of lumber to the horses’ harnesses while constantly talking to them and stroking their broad powerful backs. Once he freed them from the long wooden tongue, he led them away and back towards the rest of the party where he attached the lead ropes to the other trailing horses.

  Leading so many horses proved to be a rather difficult task even for trained animals such as these. Fortunately, the party found themselves entering a small town about an hour before sunset. Otis and Captain Brague saw to stabling the horses while Azerick and the two women went inside a quaint but clean inn to find rooms for the night.

  The innkeeper recognized Lady Miranda almost immediately and tried to refuse payment on the grounds that it was enough simply to have the honor of having her stay at his inn, but Miranda insisted that they all pay for their rooms and meals just like everyone else. She knew times were hard for most people and would not deny any of them their due.

  Otis and Captain Brague entered the inn just as the others sat down at a large table where drinks were already being served.

  “I paid the stableman to board all the horses except the ones we are riding and using as baggage carriers until Otis and a team of men can come back and retrieve them,” Brague informed Lady Miranda while Otis bobbed his head in agreement.

  More patrons began arriving just as their meal was being served. The inn maintained a warm and friendly environment that even Azerick allowed himself to enjoy. Lady Miranda continued to badger him with questions, questions that continued to hammer away at the emotional defenses he had built up and he found himself answering more and more of them.

  Years of dangerous living and deadly encounters taught Azerick to maintain a high level of awareness at all times. It was because of this that he found his grip tightening on his staff and a spell coming to mind as a pair of burly townsmen stalked towards their table. Azerick had seen that smile on men before, and he knew that it could indicate trouble. He saw that Captain Brague also stiffened at the strangers’ approach just a second after Azerick had.

  “Excuse me, folks, but my friends and I have a wager between us that we needs ya ta settle, iff’n you would be so kind,” the biggest of the bunch said as he addressed Miranda directly.

  Miranda flashed one of her dazzlingly friendly smiles. “I will help if I can. What is it you gentlemen need from us?”

  Azerick was surprised, not only that a noblewoman had deigned to speak to the rugged common men, but actually treated them with courtesy and respect.

  The speaker of the group swiped the knit hat from his head and began wringing it in his huge hands as he cleared his throat to talk. “Are you Lady Miranda of North Haven?”

  “Why yes I am. How do you do, gentlemen?” she inquired politely.

  The big farmer turned to his friends. “Ya see, I told ya! I seen her last winter fair lookin’ like the goddess o’ winter herself!” The excited man turned back around to face Miranda. “Milady, may I touch yer hand, like a gentleman don’t ya know?” he asked red faced.

  Miranda laughed loudly, got up from her chair, stood on her tiptoes, and gave the man a peck on the cheek. For a moment, Azerick actually thought the man was going to faint and fall atop their table, but he locked his knees before they gave way completely and stuttered his sincerest thanks before he and his friends returned to their own table talking excitedly about the encounter.

  Azerick was absolutely stunned. Never had he seen a person of wealth, much less nobility, treat a person of such low status so kindly. The friendliest thing a nobleman had every done for him was to aim for the legs instead of the head when he had tried to whip him for being in the way.

  “You seem to be very popular amongst your people,” Azerick said as she took her seat once more.

  “It is easy to be gracious when you have such wonderful people around you,” she replied with an earnest that earned her several smiles from nearby tables.

  “I am afraid that growing up in Southport did not leave me with a very good impression of the nobility. I am glad to see that not all are greedy, maligned scum who care only about their own ambitions and nothing for the people that they are supposed to protect and serve,” Azerick said acerbically.

  “Does that imply your impression of all nobles, or are there some in particular that you personally detest, such as Southport’s own duke?”

  “Nearly all nobles that I have encountered fit rather well into that mold. It would probably be best for me not to speak out openly against the Duke. I understand that you have a certain political decorum to maintain.”

  “Perhaps more than I show, but my mother certainly does. I personally think that Duke Ulric is a selfish, treasonous pig of a man that will either one day be king or find his head on a pike. I personally hope for the latter,” Miranda stated unequivocally.

  Azerick’s opinion for this noble-born woman increased even further while the other three at their table gave her imploring looks not to speak so openly. The inn’s door opened as another local customer came in. Before the man pushed the door shut, Azerick heard the unmistakable cry of a wolf.

  “Was that a wolf I heard?” Miranda asked more excited than concerned.

  “I’m sure it was, but it is highly unusual for wolves to be this near the coast,” Otis answered.

  “I hope it is not a large pack or the ranchers and farmers could be severely hurt by their predation,” Miranda said with concern for both the wolves and the welfare of livestock owners.

  Just one—make that two, Azerick thought to himself.

  The two women retired for the evening and bid everyone a good night as Captain Brague escorted them upstairs. Azerick got up from the table after the captain and the women left him alone with Otis and made his way to the kitchen. He paid the kitchen staff for a heavy plate of food and any bone scraps they might have.

  He took the sack of discarded bones, wrapped the plate of food in a towel, and ducked out the back door. He waited several minutes before he heard Ghost’s howl, which was quickly followed by the higher pitched wail of Wolf.

  Azerick walked out into the night in the direction of the calls. He crossed the road running through the center of town and into the woods. The trees had been cut back decades ago for building materials and started about two hundred yards from the edge of town.

  Azerick walked only a few paces into the woods before setting the plate of food on a stump and setting the sack of bones and discarded cuts of meat and fat next to it. He looked around for a moment and thought that he saw the brief glint of golden eyes in the pale moonlight. Satisfied, he turned around and walked back to the inn.

  Otis was gone from the table by the time he stepped back into the inn and went upstairs himself. He entered the only other room that the innkeeper had available and saw Otis sitting on a narrow bunk set against one wall. Azerick’s eyes quickly settled on Captain Brague as the man took two steps across the floor, stopped directly in front of him, and jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “I don’t know what kind of
game you are playing, wizard, nor do I see why someone like Lady Miranda treats the likes of you as if you were even close to being an equal. But do not mistake her friendliness and good nature as anything other than being polite. Do not encourage her or pursue her. I guarantee you that once we reach North Haven, you will have enjoyed the last of her company. I know a miscreant when I see one. Despite your little conjuror’s tricks, that is what you are, and lowlife peasants do not mix with nobility!” the captain insisted, emphasizing each of his last words by poking Azerick in the chest.

  If Azerick had been the least bit offended or outraged at the Captain’s behavior, not a trace of it showed on his face or in his reaction. Anyone with any ability to read a dangerous man would know that that was when they were the closest to lashing out.

  “You should know, Captain, that I killed the last person who called me a peasant,” Azerick replied emotionlessly.

  “Are you threatening me?” Captain Brague asked, pushing his thick-jawed face to within inches of Azerick’s.

  A maligned grin spread across the sorcerer’s young face. “I am just letting you know that the largest piece that remained of him would have fit inside that metal brain bucket you call a helmet with plenty of room to spare. Now, if you are quite finished trying to see who has the bigger sword, I am going to get some sleep.”

  Azerick cast a glance at the terrified driver who was certain he was about to be caught up in the middle of a vicious battle between two men who each held a great deal of power in their own right. Otis let out a deep breath when the sorcerer and the warrior both stripped down to their small clothes and crawled into their own beds, not once taking their hate-filled eyes off each other.

  The night passed and the morning came with neither man attempting to kill the other in their sleep. After a warm breakfast, the party saddled up and resumed their journey north. Captain Brague had offered to commandeer a coach for Miranda and her maid, but the noblewoman refused and insisted that she would rather ride. They made better time by leaving all but the three horses used to carry baggage and provisions back in the small town.

  Miranda continued to make small talk while Azerick provided even shorter answers and Captain Brague tried to burn holes through the sorcerer’s back and out his chest with his eyes.

  Azerick avoided Miranda’s questions about himself. He parried and deflected her seemingly endless queries with vague answers as a master fencer parries the blade of an opponent.

  They spent a second night at another inn at what was little more than a way station for travelers. The few patrons that were there also knew Lady Miranda and treated her with fondness. To Miranda’s credit, she never refused to shake hands or speak with anyone, and she always treated everyone with a courtesy rarely displayed between noble and commoner.

  Azerick was relieved when it became apparent that the Captain felt no need to renew any of his previous threats and settled for ignoring the sorcerer’s presence for the most part. Otis rarely spoke to Azerick, although he felt it was more a matter of the stigma associated with spell casters and not due to dislike or unfriendliness.

  Lady Miranda was even more cheerful and chatty as they rode further north than she had been before. So warm and welcoming was her personality that even Azerick was having a hard time not opening up to her and divulging some of the personal memories he kept locked up tightly inside him.

  “Azerick, tell me about your family. You said you from Southport. Are they still there?” Miranda asked, once again trying to elicit even a small shred of information from the taciturn sorcerer.

  “I do not have a family,” Azerick replied shortly.

  “Nonsense. Everyone has a family.”

  “Not when men of power decide they are a threat, or have something they want. I have had several families, and each of them were murdered by just such people.”

  Miranda blushed deeply from touching such a sensitive subject. “I am sorry. I had no idea. What about The Academy? Surely you have some wonderful stories of your stay there?”

  Azerick looked up at the sky and then back at the road ahead of them. “Another person of power sought to take what was not his and I stopped him. For this, he tried to kill me.”

  “What happened?”

  “He failed; I did not. But since his family had wealth and power, my guilt and punishment was unquestionable. So I fled. Another person of power enslaved me and later murdered my wife and unborn child. Is there anything else you desperately need to know about the reality that faces those who are not born into privilege?” Azerick felt abashed at the cruel method he employed to end Miranda’s endless questions, knowing it would hurt the woman who obviously cared about others.

  The look of pain and loss she saw in Azerick’s eyes at the question instantly made Miranda lose her desire for further conversation. She spent the next two hours studying the countryside and occasionally pointing out areas of interest to Azerick, but not once did she resume asking him about his past, for which he was extremely grateful.

  Just after noon, the small party crested a long slow hill and saw the city of North Haven nestled in its protective bay in the distance far below them. Azerick thought it was one of the most beautiful sites he had ever seen. The cobbled road descended into a small valley where the city lay at one end and spread outward from the crescent shape of the bay’s shoreline. White sails and ships bobbed peacefully in the calm waters of the bay. Some were tied to long, floating docks while others lay anchored hundreds of yards off shore.

  Beyond the protective waters of the harbor, the sails of fishing vessels and larger cargo carriers dotted the open ocean. For a moment, Azerick let himself imagine his father aboard one of his ships sailing into North Haven to sell his rare cargo from Lazuul. He imagined himself at the helm, guiding the large, four-masted ship into the bay under his proud father’s tutelage. Azerick quickly wiped the pleasant fantasy from his mind knowing that could never be. Instead, he wondered if any of the ships he could see belonged to Zeb.

  Miranda caught the smile creep onto Azerick’s face. “It is a lovely city, don’t you think?” she asked, smiling at the dour sorcerer’s obvious enjoyment of the view.

  “It is. You must be very proud of it.”

  “We are. My mother and I both work very hard to keep North Haven the polished jewel that my father helped to create.”

  “How did your father die?” Azerick asked, taking the offensive in the question asking for once.

  Miranda’s eye’s now took on a distant, lonely look at the sudden turn of events. “The healers say it was a heart attack, and father did enjoy his drink more than some, but he was always very healthy. He could ride, fight, and hunt with any man. It is hard for me to accept that there was any such weakness inside him that could bring him down so quickly.”

  “Was he a good ruler? Did the people like and respect him like they seem to do you?”

  Her smile quickly lit up her face once more. “Oh yes. The people loved my father a great deal. I said he liked to drink, and he did much of it at the various inns throughout the city. He always told me that if I wanted to know how people truly felt about their lords and their troubles, just go to an inn or a tavern, have a drink, and listen to them. He said that if the people were happy, then their lord was doing a good job. If they were not, then it was likely that the lord was not providing for his people and needed to amend his rule or be replaced.”

  Azerick looked thoughtful for a moment. “He certainly sounds like a rare man. I have met few if any nobles that would share his view.”

  “He learned that from his father who learned it from his father who was the one that turned North Haven from a small trading port into the wonderful city it is now.”

  “What about your mother? Does she rule in much the same way?”

  Miranda sighed and thought about the question before answering. “Mother loves her people and the city. She rules justly, but she is not as open as father was even before he died. After father died, she walled up her
emotions. She sort of reminds me of a certain wizard I know,” she said mischievously.

  “I am a Sorcerer, not a wizard,” came Azerick’s usual quick correction.

  “Who said I was talking about you?” Miranda asked coyly. “It is funny how one immediately picks up on the negative and associates it with themselves. I find that people who do such wear that negativity as a façade to conceal their true nature and to avoid more pain.”

  Azerick’s face flushed at her observation. Fortunately, Azerick spied a large ruin where a tall tower and crumbled walls and outbuildings still stood on a hilltop about two miles out of town.

  “What are those ruins on the hilltop?” Azerick asked, quickly changing the subject.

  Miranda shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and looked at what her aloof companion pointed at despite knowing precisely to what he was referring. Everyone in North Haven knew about the ruins, and knew well enough to stay far away from them.

  “That was once the keep from where the lord of North Haven ruled with his family before it became a major port of commerce. That was back when it was just a small trading town and a stopover for ships that sailed the northern sea on their way to Southport. The keep was the first attempt at bringing legitimacy to North Haven, as well as to bring it into the kingdom as a serious city worthy of having its own duke. However, those were very tough times, and hard people roamed the land and the seas. Pirates controlled everything north of Southport and resisted any attempt from the kingdom to expand its influence into what they considered their territory.”

  Miranda took a shuddering breath as she recounted the tale. “One night, several shiploads of pirates landed down the beach and made their way on foot to the walls of the keep. Over the previous months, they had been able to instill several of their own men in the keep as guards. Those men left a sally port open and the pirates rushed unimpeded onto the keep’s grounds. The pirates attacked the guards and quickly overwhelmed them. The lord of the keep was said to have stood in front of his barred bedchamber where his wife and five children hid. Wave after wave of pirates charged up the stairs only to be hurled back by the lord of the keep.