“Aren’t you going to plead for your life or something, goblin?” Azerick calmly 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,” Azerick told the nervous goblin.
“Most of it bad though, Master Wizard,” Grick insisted dejectedly.
“I am not a wizard, Grick, I am a sorcerer,” Azerick clarified.
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. Grick was not going to argue.
“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,” the goblin added.
Azerick nodded as he began to put together what had happened.
“Where is the rest of your tribe? Were they with you when you stole the farmer’s eggs?”
Uh oh, the human realized that the 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,” he told the human in all honesty.
Azerick nodded his understanding. “Can you kill rats, Grick?”
The goblin looked at Azerick in confusion.
“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,” Azerick clarified.
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?” the sorcerer asked.
Grick looked at the wizard suspiciously now. 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,” Azerick assured him.
“Okay, Grick catch rats as long as you no use magic on him,” he agreed.
Grick realized that he still had a long, ornate dagger hanging from a belt that he wrapped around his narrow waist twice to make it fit, took it off, and began to set it down.
“Let me see that a moment, Grick,” Azerick directed and held out his hand.
Grick handed the belt and dagger over to the sorcerer. Azerick pulled the blade out and studied it intently. 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 long belt back around his waist. No one had ever given the goblin anything. No one had ever even been nice to him and now this strange wizard gives 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 as 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 of stew for him 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 that contained a bed, wooden trunk, desk, bookshelf, and a small window looking towards 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 that actually live in the keep now. 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 was allowed to sleep at all.
“How long does Grick stay here?” he asked nervously, wondering when the dream would end.
Azerick shrugged his shoulders. “Until you decide to leave. If you decide that y
ou do not like it here or find your job unsuitable, you are free to leave whenever you like,” Azerick informed him. “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,” Azerick said warmly,” because I have a real 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 further 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 look at Azerick and express his appreciation once more but the sorcerer had left him alone in the room. Grick faced the window once more, 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 sharply.
“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 as 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 that 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 duke’s outburst, but evidence of the destruction was still evident. Several of the bookshelves showed deep gouges and many of the shelves remained empty as 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,” Alton replied.
“No, I am not so petty a man that I would allow my own 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 that I designate. The people will cry out to their lords and the king, but they will not be able to protect them. My own men, gallantly displaying my colors, will ride in to their rescue. We will stage mock battles where my men 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 shown 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 fabled armor 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,” Duke Ulric swore.
Ulric swirled the chardonnay in glass, laughing evilly as he imagined the tortures he would inflict on his erstwhile general.
***
Ellyssa, Wolf, and Ghost sat around the large, flat-topped rock that served as Wolf’s dining table, licking the last of the apple filling from their fingers.
“I can’t believe we ate that whole pie,” Wolf said.
“I can’t believe you ate over half of it by yourself,” Ellyssa replied.
“It wasn’t that big of a pie and Ghost had a pretty big piece,” Wolf said defensively.
Ellyssa arched her eyebrows. “You ate half a chicken just before the pie!” she said accusingly.
“So, has Azerick taught you any useful magic yet?” Wolf asked the young apprentice mage, changing the subject of his eating habits.
Ellyssa’s face lit up at the chance to talk about magic. Wolf knew Ellyssa would drop just about anything for a chance to talk about the things she had learned about magic. Wolf often used it to get her to talk about something else when the current subject was distasteful to him.
“Oh yeah, watch this!” Ellyssa exclaimed eagerly.
She waved her hand, spoke some spidery words of magic, and the sticky filling and crumbs disappeared from her hands and face as if she had just washed.
“Pretty neat, huh?” she asked excitedly.
Wolf looked at her completely unimpressed. “I asked if you knew any useful magic. You just made yourself clean. I hardly call that useful.”
“You wouldn’t, but you could sure use it,” she told Wolf, wrinkling her nose at his filthy countenance. “Fine, you want to see some real magic, stand back!”
“I thought Azerick told you not to use magic without him being around,” Wolf reminded her, knowing how she got when she was riled up. Anything that made Wolf nervous was definitely a call for concern.
“Azerick is just a worrywart. It’s just a little snowball spell.”
Ellyssa found a lone tree in the midst of the clearing and began casting her spell. With a shout, she whipped her arm forward as if she was throwing a rock. A flickering orange sphere the size of an apple flew from her hand straight at the base of the tree that stood ten yards in front of her.
The moment Ellyssa released her spell she knew something had gone wrong. Instead of the ball of ice that should have splattered harmlessly against the tree trunk, it burst into a bright flash of fire.
“Nice going, you set the tree on fire!” Wolf yelled accusingly.
“It was an accident! It was supposed to be a ball of ice!” Ellyssa shouted back.
“You are going to be in so much trouble when Azerick finds out.”
“You better not tell on me!”
Wolf crossed his arms defiantly. “Or what?”
Ellyssa glared evilly at the half-elf. “Or I’ll use my cleaning spell on you!”
Wolf’s jaw dropped open, aghast at the threat. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“And I’ll tell Azerick you started the fire cooking up some rat you caught.”
“I don’t eat rats and I don’t set trees on fire when I cook!”
Ellyssa crossed her arms and turned away petulantly. “He will believe me over you, I’m his apprentice, not you,” she said and stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder.
“He’ll believe me because I saved his life once and he knows you are a big fat liar!” Wolf shouted at her back.
“No he doesn’t!”
“Yes he does, he told me. And he said you were ugly.”
Ellyssa spun around at glared at Wolf. “No he didn’t, now you’re lying!”
Now Wolf turned away and put his back to her. “Yep, he told me he bought you because he thought you were a monkey in a dress and it made him laugh.”
Wolf heard her shout some unintelligible words and felt a tingling all over his body. Frightened, he looked at his hands and bare arms and felt his face.
“You cleaned me!” he shouted in horror.
“You needed it. You smell worse than a midden heap,” Ellyssa said nastily.
“That’s it, I’m telling!” Wolf threatened and began running towards the tower, Ghost loping at his heels.
“You better not!” Elly
ssa shouted, chasing after him.
The young wizard had no chance of catching the fleet footed half-elf, much less getting to the keep ahead of him. It did not matter. As Wolf ran past the wall, men were already running towards the fire, which was now a blazing inferno rising above the treetops, with shovels, pickaxes, and buckets of sand.
***
King Jarvin sat in his study, his highly agitated state obvious to his two senior advisors. The few years of his contentious reign was evident in every grey hair on his head and the deep creases in his face despite having just reached the dawn of his fortieth year.
“What news have we of the acquisition of Dundalor’s armor?” Jarvin asked his advisors.
“Ours or theirs?” Bishop Caalendor asked his liege.
“Either!” the king barked in frustration.
“Your pet group of adventurers is still in the field and is not expected to report back for some weeks yet. I have received word from one of my more remote monasteries that a large contingent of armed men did indeed find and take the piece entrusted to them.”
King Jarvin’s face turned scarlet at his advisor’s revelation. “A piece was in one of YOUR abbeys and you did not tell me?” the king raged.
It was the portly head of the church’s turn to flush now. “Your Majesty, I did not know. Such information was never recorded, by the order of King Archibald himself when he ordered the pieces scattered. It is that fact that has us chasing after rumors. There simply is little else on which to go.”
“Then tell me how the blazes this man found out about it!”
The bishop simply shrugged his shoulders. “He had a better rumor.”
The king ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, flicking several loose strands to the floor. “Do we know who these men were; who led them?”
“Not with any certainty, Your Majesty. The description fits General Baneford, Duke Ulric’s man but I have not been able to confirm this.”
“Ulric again. That man is beyond contemptible. What of our men inside his castle, can they confirm anything? I would be loath to provoke a battle with the duke even with evidence. Without it, such is not even an option.”
The Sorcerer's Legacy (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 5
