The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  The little accountant and de facto school steward disappeared back through the doors and then reappeared a moment later with two men and woman in tow. Allister's stomach clenched. He recognized the trio as being from The Academy. He had been dreading their arrival since Ellyssa’s violent and public episode. The expectation did little to make him feel any better about their appearance.

  "Magus Allister, I am Robert Harvey, and this is Oliver Parkes and Janice Lewis of The Academy," Magus Harvey said before Simon could make any introductions.

  Allister leaned down and whispered something in Simon's ear and the little man darted upstairs. He then gave each of the Academy Wizards a nod. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

  Magus Harvey smiled, aware the old archmage knew exactly why he was here. "We are investigating an attack within the city by a young girl by the name of Ellyssa Jensen."

  "It was hardly an attack. A man accosted her and she panicked in defense of herself."

  "Ah, so you are aware of what happened. Good, I was concerned this school and its students were completely without oversight. So do you simply choose to ignore the criminal behavior of all your students, or just this one?"

  Allister was taken aback by the man's unexpected hostility. "Criminal behavior? What are you going on about? This incident has been investigated and all damage recompensed."

  "By whom, the Duchess and your cadre? Hardly an objective body to conduct a proper investigation. It is why such matters fall fully under the jurisprudence of The Academy. We shall decide guilt and punishment. Where is the girl?"

  "She is not here. I imagine she is off studying somewhere," Allister answered tersely. “If that is all, I bid you good day.”

  Magus Harvey knew the old archmage was giving him the brush-off. "Please send someone to fetch her. We will be taking her back to The Academy for questioning."

  "Like hell you will," Allister bristled. "I assume you have a writ of apprehension?"

  The magus tried to push his bluff. "I can get one if you insist upon being uncooperative."

  "I doubt that. If the council felt it necessary for you to arrest the child, they would have sent one with you. Now what is it you are really doing here, Harvey?"

  “I, along with many at The Academy, see your school as a threat. You not only operate outside the purview of The Academy, you teach magic to commoners. We have no idea what your agenda is or what it is you are teaching this riffraff!”

  “Simon,” Allister called upstairs.

  Simon appeared instantly, descended the stairs, and handed the Academy wizard a book.

  “You will find our training curriculum in there, and you will see the tenets nearly mirror those of The Academy. As to whom we are teaching, there has never been a mandate restricting Academy attendance. The current state of elitism is an artificial construct created by pretentious snobs like you. Now, if there is nothing else, you may show yourselves out."

  Magus Harvey sneered at the book in his hand. “It really does not matter what is in this book. The fact remains this school is no more legitimate than the Black Tower, and I will see it shut down. Continue to train and harbor criminals like the girl, and we shall shut you down, by force if necessary.”

  Magus Allister’s face clouded in fury. “This school hosts two of the most premier archmages in the kingdom, five full wizards, and nearly five hundred journeymen and apprentice level mages. Threaten this school and you will find your threat very difficult to carry out!”

  “Put away your bluster, Allister. We both know your bluff for what it is. The former master of this school may have been willing to throw away his and the lives of these children, but not you.”

  “Get out of my school! It is no longer a request,” Allister snarled through clamped teeth.

  Magus Harvey sneered contemptuously before he and his two companions departed the tower. Allister tried to calm his nerves by taking several deep breaths. Magus Harvey had been right. Azerick would not hesitate to fight The Academy if they threatened him. Had he been here, Azerick would likely already be halfway to Southport to challenge the entire council. But he would not. He would not jeopardize the lives of the people at the school in open conflict with The Academy. Allister was certain given the King and Duchess Melina’s backing, The Academy would not press too hard unless something catastrophic occurred.

  Ellyssa listened to the terse conversation from the safety of the laboratory stairwell. Her stomach churned as The Academy mage threatened to take her in and close down the school. She hastened back down the stairs the moment the other wizards left and paced about the laboratory.

  “If Azerick were here, they would not dare make such threats! But he’s not here. Because of me. Because of Captain Jake. I swear I will kill Captain Jake and every slaver in the city. They took me, they took Azerick, and they need to die. I need to be stronger though. I can’t let them or The Academy take me.” Ellyssa spun around. “Who’s there?”

  She looked around the room, but it was barren except for her and the big tome resting upon its podium. Ellyssa studied the book more closely. Was it glowing, or was it just a trick of the light? She stepped toward the book Azerick had liberated from the psyling city and fought a dragon to reclaim.

  “Is it you? How is this possible? You can help me? How?” Ellyssa took a deep breath. “Show me.”

  The book practically jumped on the podium as its cover flipped open and the pages fluttered as it fanned open. Line after line of text swam about on the pages as if alive and rearranged themselves to give her what she needed. Ellyssa looked down upon the spells laid out for her to see, the light of the glowing text illuminating her face, and she smiled.

  CHAPTER 2

  Azerick was engrossed in yet another obscure tome, plucked from the black stone shelves of what passed for a library within the shadowy, foreboding halls of Klaraxis’ massive citadel. It was impossible to tell how long he had dwelled within the onyx halls. Only the number of books he poured over in his quest to discover a way out of this abyssal prison gave him any indication of the passage of time.

  Azerick soon discovered he no longer needed sleep or food—at least not in the way a human viewed such things. Demons fed on the energy contained within a shade, which was essentially the soul of the damned. Not all shades were damned, however. Lesser shades were little more than a shadow of the soul belonging to anyone who died. Those souls who were not damned to the abyss went to the kingdom of the god who chose them, but a portion, a shadow copy of the soul, went to the abyss as food for the demons who dwelled there. Sharrellan was the goddess of death, and death always got her due. It was only the truly wicked people whose true souls went to the abyss to writhe in torment until the demons devoured them. Such an end to misery could take centuries.

  I do not understand why you continue to toil away down here, Klaraxis complained. This same argument invaded Azerick’s mind for probably the hundredth time.

  “Because I refuse to accept there is no way out.” Azerick responded as he always did, when he bothered to reply to the largely rhetorical statement at all.

  I have been the master of this dismal realm for almost two thousand years. If there were a way out, I would have found it long ago.

  “The wizard, Shakrill, she brought you out of the abyss, so there must be a way.”

  Shakrill transferred the bulk of my soul into a human vessel. I was little more than the shades you see here, only I had the strength to possess another. That was the plan anyway. Besides, I truly doubt anyone you know would be willing to make the blood sacrifices required simply to contact you much less attempt to transfer your essence into another body.

  “Regardless, I have never given up on anything before, and I am not about to start now. It is not as though I have anything better to do with my time.”

  On the contrary, you have very pressing matters to which you must attend. You have an entire realm requiring your guidance and judgment. The denizens of this place require constant attention to
keep them from battling one another. You are the balance upon which the scales rest. Ruling this place requires a swift, iron fist to crush any concerted uprising.

  “I prefer to rule by detached ambivalence. Let these disgusting creatures destroy one another. What is it to me if they kill each other?”

  Fool, your lack of interest is perceived as a lack of ability to rule. Anything appearing as weakness is a call to replace you by anyone capable of doing so. Even now, we could easily crush any of these lesser creatures, but there are other lords in the other circles who ache to claim my position nearest the dark goddess’ side.

  “Again, why should I care? I want nothing to do with Sharrellan, this place, or the foul creatures within it. Let them and everything around them rot.”

  For a creature who has shown such remarkable cleverness, you are amazingly stupid and shortsighted at times. You think you and your humanity are so much better than we are, but who are the real monsters? Who is truly depraved? Yes, any demon worthy of being called such will lie and tear you apart the instant it becomes beneficial to do so. But anyone who is not a fool knows that when they make any pact with our ilk. It is you humans who are true creatures of chaos. You smile to each other’s faces and destroy everything around you, sometimes simply on a whim. You can never be certain whom your friends and allies are or who will plunge a dagger into your heart. We demons are vile, cruel, and malicious, but it is humans who are truly disgusting.

  The little demog, Skulk, fluttered into the chamber, noisily flapping his under-sized wings. “Supreme Master, several unworthy succubi and balrogs request your attention. I told them you were busy, but they were insistent and threatened to tear off Skulk’s wings.”

  Azerick sighed heavily. It was obvious neither Klaraxis nor the demons were going to let him get any peace until he made some kind of showing. He stood and followed Skulk down the black, depressing passageways that seemed to twist and turn randomly with no order or thought to their layout.

  Azerick eventually stepped into the cavernous throne room belonging to Klaraxis. He seated himself upon the spacious, granite and skull throne set atop a large dais of similar construction and looked down upon the demons waiting restlessly below. The obviously opposing factions divided the room into two sides. On his left were nearly a dozen succubi, each glaring their hatred toward the toad-like balrogs to his right. Azerick was familiar with the succubi. He fought some of them when he first came to this place and they were commonly seen flying about the skies.

  The balrogs tended to keep largely to themselves, living in colonies near the fringes of the realm. They looked like a cross between a toad and a gorilla. The creatures were covered in a pebbly hide the color of the dusky red landscape. Unlike toads, their front arms were a near match for their powerful hind legs in both size and strength. Their enormous mouth, which comprised a large portion of their entire head, opened to reveal rows upon rows of dagger-like teeth.

  “What is it you want?” Azerick asked impatiently.

  “The succubi invade our territory and steal what is ours,” the balrog croaked. “We asked them to cease their encroachment but they refused. We demanded and they still refuse.”

  “Yours is what you can defend. That is the law of the land,” the succubus replied languidly.

  “There are rules! You taunt and insult us. You hurl filth at us from the skies! Such insults will not be tolerated!”

  “Or what?” the very feminine demon taunted. “If you and your pathetic ground-bound ilk cannot protect your hunting grounds, what do you think you are going to do to stop us?”

  “Maybe make you ground-bound with us, harpy witch!”

  Faster than Azerick thought possible, the balrog leapt at the succubi, grabbed her left wing near the base, and savagely tore it from her back. The room instantly erupted into chaos. The grievously wounded succubus screeched in pain and rage and leapt away as her sisters took flight and began hurling balls of fire from their hands.

  The Balrogs’ warty hide was tough and resisted much of the damage the searing heat of the succubi’s fireballs should have caused, so the winged demons changed tactics. They made swift, swooping dives at the ground-bound demons, hurling heavy objects they snatched up from around the room and dove swiftly from the vaulted ceiling, slashing at the stouter demons’ eyes with blades and claws. This tactic proved fatal in such a relatively confined area. Like a cat snatching a bird from the air, one balrog leapt thirty feet up, snatched a succubus from the air, twisted, and crushed its body, eliciting a series of sickening cracks until it ceased moving.

  The flying demon women flapped their wings until the roof of the chamber prevented them from gaining any more altitude and focused their attacks on individual balrogs, pummeling it with stone and steel and striking it with dozens of fiery orbs. This concerted attack finally broke through the creature’s skin and left it a battered and smoldering corpse upon the floor.

  The balrogs retaliated by tearing head-sized stones from the floor and flinging them with the power and accuracy of a catapult. One stone caught a succubus in the chest and it spiraled down like a struck bird. The two sides continued hurling stones, fire, and insults and the casualties were slowly mounting, as well as the damage being done to the audience chamber.

  You need to put an end to this. Your ambivalence appears as weakness. To allow this kind of conduct within my great hall is unacceptable!

  “I find it rather amusing. The gods know I need some entertainment,” Azerick retorted.

  You will not find it amusing when they turn on you. The only thing keeping these creatures from each other’s throats, as well as yours, is fear.

  “Fine.” Azerick stood and looked at both sides of the warring factions. “Enough!” Azerick had to duck as a stone the size of his head came whizzing past. “I said enough!”

  Azerick raised his arms and extended his will. He thrust outward and sent every demon in the vast chamber crashing into the far wall hard enough to crack bones and stun the senses. He thrust his arms down, yanked the succubi from the air, and crushed all the demons to the floor.

  Both sides turned their hateful glares toward Azerick. “You succubi stop poaching kills from the balrogs. If you see them hunting in an area, leave them be. Balrogs, the succubi are free to hunt wherever they wish, as are all of you, as long as they do not prevent you from doing the same.”

  “What of my wing!” the injured demon demanded. “He has ruined me!”

  “You provoked him and it will grow back.” It will grow back, right? Azerick silently asked Klaraxis.

  It will, but to be flightless for even a moment is torture for one such as they.

  Azerick shrugged, unconcerned for the succubus’s plight. “Now get out of my hall.”

  The injured succubus gave Azerick a hate-filled glare as she looked back and shuffled from the chamber, dripping black ichor from her ruined stump. Azerick practically collapsed upon the throne as he sat down. His use of power had exhausted him. There would be no more searching for a way out of this dismal place today.

  You need to feed. If you will not devour the soul of one of the offerings locked below, at least consume a shade or draw from the power stored within my citadel.

  Azerick knew of the humans who had been sent as offerings or who had foolishly come here of their own accord. They were retched creatures and he would have nothing to do with them. They were all evil people or thoroughly insane, driven mad from their captivity and torture. Neither could he destroy a shade. Such an act would prove he was no longer human and truly a denizen of this realm. Azerick could not bring himself to let go of the remaining vestige of his humanity.

  However, he could not ignore Klaraxis’ advice or his own hunger and ebbing strength. For centuries, the greater shades of this realm fed their energy into the stones of the massive fortress, turning them as black as their souls. The power was there for Klaraxis to draw upon for additional strength should he ever need to defend himself from an all-out attack from one
of the lesser realm lords who desired to attain a loftier position. Three times in nearly two millennia, the demon lord had to defend himself from such an attack, and each time he had defeated his foes.