Hugo twitched his head from side to side. “No, no I don’t.”
“Neither do I. There are simply too many to count. Death follows me like a second shadow, Hugo, and right now my shadow is falling right on you.”
“Please,” Hugo pleaded, “I didn’t mean nothin’. You don’t owe no tax. Go on and pass through, Azerick, we’ll give you no trouble.”
“You are telling me things that I already know. You have no idea how tempted I am to make sure that you and your two moronic friends do not ever give me, or anyone else, trouble again,” Azerick snarled threateningly.
“Please, mercy please! I don’t wanna die!” Hugo wailed.
“Then I suggest you all find a new vocation and never hassle the street rats again,” the sorcerer warned as the expanding puddle of warm liquid darkened the front of Hugo’s trousers.
Hugo took a couple cautious steps backwards before turning around and sprinting away with his two cronies close on his heels.
“I thank ye, sir. They was gonna whomp on me good if’n you ain’t showed up,” the boy said to Azerick.
“It was my pleasure. I have had my own run in with those three more than once when I wasn’t much older than you.”
“They’s called ya Azerick, they did didn’t they?”
“Yes, that is my name,” Azerick replied.
The boy looked up at Azerick’s face intently. “Are you the same Azerick that is a wizard that takes in street rats and teaches em magic and sword fightin’ n’ stuff just like at The Academy?”
“I run a school for homeless children in North Haven, yes. And those that are able learn magic, and those who can’t generally learn weapons and trades as well as reading, writing, and numbers,” Azerick informed the boy as he walked with him out of the alley.
“Could I go to your school, Master Azerick, and my friends?”
“If you can get there we will take you, and so long as you work hard at your studies and follow the rules you can stay.”
The boy closed his mouth and looked thoughtful for several moments. “My friends and me would have to nick enough coin and food to get there. It be a mighty long walk.”
Azerick stopped, reached into his robes, pulled out a small pouch of coins, and handed it over to the boy. “That should buy you and your friends enough food for the journey. If you can find a ship captained by a man named Zeb or one owned by the Tower Trading Company, you can get free passage if you tell them why you are going. I strongly recommend against you boarding any ship owned by anyone else or you run the real risk of getting snatched up by slavers,” Azerick cautioned.
The boy felt the weight of the coins in his hand and smiled broadly. “Thankee, Master Azerick! I’ll go an tell my friends; they’s gonna flip for sure!”
“You do that. I look forward to seeing you and your friends at the school,” Azerick said and gave the rapidly retreating figure a small wave as he continued his walk towards The Academy.
Azerick led Horse through the Academy gates and handed him off to one of the grooms with instructions to brush him down but saddle him back up as soon as they were finished. Allister had told him that Devlin had stayed on as an honorary faculty member after Azerick left. Azerick knew why he had stayed on, which is why he was going to confront him now.
It was an eerie feeling to be walking along the vast, quiet halls of his old school. He almost felt like a boy again, remembering how he had looked at the marble walls and floors in awe, intimidated by the powerful wizards that occupied the place.
His feet seemed to weigh ten pounds apiece as he climbed the stairs with slow deliberate steps. He cast his wards of protection that would deflect some of the attacks from weapons or magic as he neared his old master’s chambers near the top of the tower.
Azerick paused outside the heavy oak door, pondering whether to knock or barge in and take him by surprise. He decided on knocking, not just out of a sense of courtesy, but so that he would not appear to be frightened or intimidated by the senior sorcerer.
The door opened a few moments after Azerick knocked. Devlin pulled open the door with a look of irritation on his stern face but it quickly slipped away to register surprise as he recognized the young man.
“Azerick, is that you?” Devlin asked in astonishment.
“Hello, Master Devlin. We need to talk,” Azerick said coolly.
“Of course, come in, take a seat,” Devlin said as he stood aside for his former apprentice to enter. “I am amazed to see you here.”
“To see me here or to see me alive?” Azerick retorted.
“Well, I guess a bit of both. It is a tough world out there and you left under some—extreme circumstances.”
“Is that the only reason or, is it because of the assassin that was sent to kill me?” Azerick asked accusingly.
“Assassin? I do not know anything about assassins, Azerick. Why would you think I would?” Devlin asked, seemingly with genuine confusion.
“My father was murdered because someone involved him in artifact smuggling. I overheard you making a deal with a man to help him acquire magical artifacts, the same ones I must assume that my father had unwittingly been involved with, and now an assassin tries to kill me in my own keep. It is a rather logical conclusion to come to I think,” Azerick said venomously.
Devlin sat down hard and shook his head. “Oh, Azerick, you were not meant to overhear that discussion. Is that why you did not come to me with that situation with that spoiled little rat, Travis?
The elder sorcerer threw back his head and cursed bitterly. “You were an adept apprentice, Azerick, and I dearly hated to lose you. It came as quite a shock even to me how much your departure affected me. I can tell you have grown significantly in power and maturity and I want to tell you how proud I am of you.”
Devlin took a deep breath before continuing. “I should order you out of here even knowing that you will fight me. I am still your senior and your chances of defeating me are slim unless there is far more to you than I can sense, but I will not do that. I am going to let you in on a secret, Azerick, but it must not go beyond this room. I will have your word on that or I must end this conversation.”
“You have it, but I cannot promise that I will not try to kill you if your words implicate you in my troubles,” Azerick promised, genuinely intrigued by the direction the conversation was taking.
Devlin shook his head at the young man’s candor. It reminded him so much of the boy he had instructed.
“First, let me assure you that I am not working for those who wish to usurp your king. I know what you heard, but what you did not hear was the truth. You probably think I stayed on because I was using the Academy’s resources to locate these artifacts for his foes. The truth is that the Sumaran embassy in Brelland asked me to stay on and observe the situation. I told the man that you heard me talking to that I would do as he asked but only so I had an inside view of the situation. I have been foot-dragging and sending erroneous information to them for these years you have been gone.”
Somehow, Azerick knew that his teacher was telling him the truth. It would be illogical for Sumara to support the overthrow of the king that ended the war between them and their northern neighbors.
“Then I have come to a dead end,” Azerick said despondently.
“Not necessarily and I am severely loath to tell you this, but you have a right to know. There is one that I have discovered that is betraying your king and helping those that would usurp him. If the assassin is working for the same men, then he probably has at least some of the answers you are looking for.”
“If you know who he is then why have you not stopped him, or at least told King Jarvin?”
“It is political, Azerick, and politics are a dangerous and sticky thing to work in. Sumara is enjoying the improved relations that Jarvin has brought about between our two kingdoms and we would like to see him maintain his throne. His lineage is of no consequence to us. However, if we worked against those that wish to depose Jarvin and
they succeed anyway, that puts us in a very embarrassing and potentially damaging situation.”
“Who is it, who is betraying the crown and dragging me into this mess?” Azerick grimly asked.
Devlin took another deep breath and told him. The revelation nearly floored him. How could he? He had defended Azerick several times. Azerick could not believe he was a traitor, but he looked into Devlin’s eyes and saw that it was the truth. This man had answers to his questions and he would get them one way or another.
“I cannot tell you what to do, Azerick, nor can I intercede. I can tell you to be careful. He is a wizard at the height of his power, power that few wizards ever realize.”
Azerick stood and crossed the floor, turning back at the door to face his mentor. “I am glad you were not the traitor, Master Devlin.”
Azerick descended the stairs and stormed down the halls like a fearsome black cloud about to unleash torrents of rain and an onslaught of lightning bolts on everything in his path. He passed several students and two instructors but none of them attempted to stop him. His grim demeanor destroyed any greetings or questions anyone may have had before they passed their lips.
The sorcerer bounded up the stairs of another tower with no hesitation in his steps. When he came to the door there was no question of whether or not to knock. Headmaster Dondrian started in surprise when the door to his office slammed open and looked up fiercely from the scroll he was reading.
“What is the meaning of—Azerick, is that you?” the Magus Academy’s headmaster asked. “Where in the world have you been?”
“Where I have been is not important, Headmaster. Who are you working for? Who has you looking for the artifacts that cost my father his life?” Azerick demanded.
“What in the blazes are you talking about? Have you gone mad?” Dondrian asked.
“I know you are a traitor to the crown, Dondrian. I was standing outside the door when the man came here seeking help in locating them.”
This was true even though it was not the headmaster’s door he had listened at and it was not him that Azerick heard being bribed.
Dondrian’s face flushed red, but whether it was in anger or in guilt Azerick could not say. “I don’t know what you are talking about and if you think the magistrate will take your word, the word of a killer, over mine then by all means go and summon him. I will summon him for you if you like,” Dondrian said smugly.
“I suppose you don’t know anything about the assassin that paid me a visit either.”
A flicker of fearful recognition crossed the headmaster’s face. It was fleeting but Azerick’s sharp eye caught it immediately.
“That’s right, Dondrian. I know about your pet assassin. He will not be filling anymore contracts in this world,” Azerick said darkly.
“I had nothing to do with the Rook!” the wizard insisted as beads of perspiration formed on his forehead.
“Who does, Dondrian? Does he have a go-between? Tell me!” Azerick demanded. “There are others who know of your dealings within The Academy!”
The Headmaster raised himself from his seat in a trembling rage, his hands pressing down onto the desktop as he leaned forward. “How dare you speak to me that way? Who in blazes do you think you are?”
Azerick pointed his staff at the Headmaster and channeled one of his spells through it. Dondrian flew back and struck the bookcase that stood against the wall several feet behind his desk. He realized that he had probably just made a serious mistake in attacking the elder wizard but he was beyond caring.
This man knew something and he knew the assassin that tried to kill him. There were far too many pieces fitting together that linked the death of his father and the attack on himself, too much to be mere coincidence, and he would get answers one way or another.
Azerick’s spell kept the wizard pressed against the bookcase but only for a moment. A grim smile spread across Dondrian’s face as he easily severed Azerick’s spell. A few muttered words and the waving of a hand brought up the wizard’s own protective spells.
“You foolish child,” Dondrian sneered derisively. “Do you truly believe you can match your magic with mine?”
Without bothering to answer, Azerick released a powerful blast of lightning that fizzled out the instant it struck the headmaster’s shield. Another look of utter contempt crossed Dondrian’s face as he countered with a spell of his own. Half a score of brilliant orbs of pure energy slammed into Azerick one after another, mercilessly pounding him until he fell back against the door.
Azerick’s vision swam before him as he tried to focus through the intense pain. The sorcerer cast one of his newest and most powerful spells. A dazzling green beam shot from the end of his staff, its power increased by the extraordinary weapon. Azerick saw the beam penetrate the wizard’s wards but the intensity of the ray that managed to strike his target was a dim shadow of what it had been.
Dondrian snarled in pain as the beam burned through his robes and blistered a large red welt across his chest.
“You little fool! Is that the best you can do? Let me show you the power of a true archmage!”
If Azerick’s back had not already been against the door, he probably would have been hurled clear through it and suffered extraordinary damage if it did not kill him outright. As it was, it felt as though a titan was pushing him through the iron-reinforced portal. Motes of diaphanous lights swam across Azerick’s narrowing field of vision as the archmage’s spell lifted from the floor with its unseen force.
“You pathetic little worm! Did you truly believe you could fight me? I was wielding power you cannot even fathom when your grandfather was in swaddling clothes!”
Azerick focused the last of his rapidly dwindling strength into one of his first and most simple spells. He fought with all his strength to resist the choking unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm him. He released his spell with a strangled shout an instant before his vision went black.
The sundering spell worked its will on the supporting beams under the stone floor, rotting the wood and turning the mortar to dust. Dondrian looked down at his feet in surprise as a loud crack of wood and stone sounded beneath him. He looked up and met Azerick’s eyes just as the floor gave way beneath his feet.
Azerick slipped to the ground gasping for breath as the wizard disappeared with a resounding crash and a billowing cloud of dust. His vision quickly cleared as he drew in several gasping breaths. The sorcerer regained his feet and cautiously stepped towards the large gaping hole that now adorned the middle of the headmaster’s office. Azerick spoke a word of command and a rune of air and spirit flared brightly for an instant on his staff. He stepped out over the hole and gently floated down the twenty-five feet to the floor below.
The headmaster lay in a pile of broken timbers and rubble. The jagged edge of his broken leg thrust up through the flesh just blow his knee. A bloody pink froth ringed his mouth as he took ragged wheezing breaths. Azerick stared down at the dying archmage without a trace of pity or sympathy.
“You are dying, Dondrian. Tell me who you are working for.”
The wizard’s eyes focused past the looming young sorcerer. “Go to hell,” the headmaster rasped.
“In due time, Dondrian, but you are going to get there long before me so before you go, tell me who you worked for. Who sent the assassin?”
Blood spattered the wizard’s face when he tried to spit at Azerick due to his diminished lung capacity. Azerick looked up at the sound of footsteps pounding down the hall. Magus Florent, Magus Bauer, Magus Morgarum, and several curious students all came running down the hall and across the large chamber to investigate all the noise.
Azerick saw that Magus Morgarum clutched a large flask of what was probably one of the alchemy teacher’s potent healing potions. Knowing that Dondrian would never tell him what he needed to know, Azerick raised a long row of stone spikes across their path, flipped his staff around, and plunged the spear tip through the headmaster’s heart. If Dondrian would not give
him his answers, then he would make sure that the headmaster would answer for his crimes.
“By the gods, what have you done?” Magus Bauer shrieked in alarm and outrage.
The novice instructor ordered the children to their dorms while Magus Florent dispelled his stone spike spell.
“Azerick, is that you?” the kindly alchemy teacher asked nervously as he and the other magus drew near.
“What have you done, Azerick?” Magus Florent asked.
Azerick glared at the academy instructors. “I think that is rather obvious.”
“Why, Azerick? Why did you do such a thing?” the portly Magus Morgarum begged.
“Because he is a cold-blooded murderer!” Magus Bauer shouted shrilly. “I told you all that when he murdered young Travis Beaumont and now you have seen him kill the headmaster with your own eyes. Do you doubt the fact now?”
“No!” Azerick shouted back. “Dondrian was a traitor to the crown. He was selling information to a group bent on usurping King Jarvin’s rule. The same people he informed were involved with the assassin that was sent to kill me and likely murdered my father as well. He needed to pay for what he has done and I was not going to allow you to save him.”
“Do you have evidence of this, Azerick?” Magus Florent asked softly.
“No, not with me but I suspect I will find something in Dondrian’s office,” Azerick replied and began walking towards the stairs.
“Where do you think you are going?” Magus Bauer shouted. “You will remain here under our guard until the authorities arrive!”
Azerick spun around with a look of such menace that the three Academy instructors took an involuntary step back. “No I will not and you had best not get in my way!”
Magus Bauer was the first to regain her composure. “Do you honestly think you can stand against three Academy magi?”
“I do not know. Dondrian did not think I could stand against him,” Azerick replied darkly.
“I doubt the boy could fend off the power of you three, but I am confident I can,” Devlin’s voice came echoing across the hall.
The Sorcerer's Legacy (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 30
