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

by Brock Deskins

  Fennrick finally paused in administering his torture. “You bring this upon yourself. You can put it an end to this pain any time you choose.”

  Ellyssa looked up at him through tearing eyes, and the room once again filled with her laughter. “You call that pain? Remove these shackles, take me out of this room, and I will show you pain. I have experienced pain beyond anything you have ever imagined! You are pathetic, Fennrick, you and the rest of your ilk.”

  Fennrick’s blood boiled at the audacity of the girl and renewed his assault with vigor. But no matter what he tried, she just laughed at him even more whenever he stopped. Soon, not even his anger could keep him going. He was not a trained torturer, and his imagination was as limited as his stomach for causing continued pain, especially when doing so was garnering nothing in return.

  Ellyssa looked up from where she lay sprawled on the floor and found herself alone. She climbed onto her cot and curled into a ball. Despite her bravado, pain was pain and nothing could ever completely inure her to its effects, but something inside her refused to relent.

  She knew the pain would stop if she cooperated. It would be so easy. But doing so would mean she was in no better position than she had been in Bakhtaran. The Duchess promised her a comfortable room if she simply supplied The Academy with answers, just as Vila Mushadan provided her palatial surroundings for using her magic to help steal his country’s throne. She was still a prisoner and still a slave, but she would fight them to the very end. Eventually, they would have to kill her, intentionally or by accident.

  Either way, she would win. Even if she wanted to live and was willing to surrender, Ellyssa knew something in her mind would stop her from doing it. It was at that moment she knew she was broken and only death could fix her.

  Fennrick needed to report his progress, or lack thereof. He relished reporting his failure as much as the thought of continuing his tortures. The inquisitor had never thought of himself as squeamish, he would kill the girl in an instant given the order to so and not lose a wink of sleep, but to inflict pain on a girl barely out of childhood was not something he cared for.

  His worst fears were borne out when he stepped into Elias’s office. The senior inquisitor sat at his desk while Duchess Paulina reclined on a plush sedan drinking a glass of red wine. Fennrick took a deep breath and sat in a chair where he could capture the other two occupants in his field of view without undue head turning.

  “I was hoping you would be wrapping up soon, Fennrick,” the Duchess said over her glass of wine. “Is the girl singing a different tune now?”

  Fennrick looked to the ceiling then back at the Duchess. “No. It is the same tune, same song, and louder than ever. I applied the most pain I thought advisable, and she laughed in my face.”

  “Then apply more!”

  Fennrick shook his head. “I don’t think it would help. It may even cause more harm than good, especially if it drove her over the edge and made her completely unreachable.”

  Paulina swirled the wine in her glass before bolting down the remaining scarlet liquid. “Is she insane?”

  “To a lesser degree, I believe so. She is not the sort of lunatic gibbering type of insane, but I believe her touched in the head. My reports indicated she suffered some significant abuse on Bakhtaran, and she holds a significant amount of remorse and guilt over the death of Lord Giles. It is this reason I fear pushing too hard. Her mind is in a fragile state, and pushing too hard could irrevocably shatter it. Doing so could lose the Codex to us forever and that would not do.”

  “No, that certainly would not do at all,” mused the Duchess.

  Although technically not under her control, having the inquisitors headquartered within her city gave a significant boost to her powerbase, more so even than The Academy did for Southport since the inquisitors actively patrolled and even defended against minor border issues while under the auspices of her command. Delving into the secrets of the Codex Arcana would increase her power. It could even one day give her the means to make them a separate entity from The Academy and secure the throne.

  “Perhaps the crudeness of brute force is not what we need here,” the Duchess supplied. “There are a plethora of torture techniques utilizing discomfort and mental strain instead of simple pain. Of course, we will still have to monitor her carefully, but I think that tree may yield more fruit.”

  “I think it would be best to err on the side of caution by not expecting instant results,” Fennrick cautioned. “This will likely be a time-consuming process if done properly.”

  Paulina nodded. “I think you are right. I have a man who is skilled in such things. I shall put him at your disposal. Elias!” the Duchess shouted. “Are you even awake over there or is there truly nothing intelligent you have to add to this discussion?”

  The senior inquisitor practically jumped out of his chair. “No, Your Grace. I mean yes, Your Grace. All are very sound ideas and I fully agree.”

  “Idiot. Now, are you equally incompetent as a host, or is this glass going to magically fill itself?”

  Elias leapt from his seat and grabbed the nearby bottle of wine. “Of course, Your Grace, forgive me.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Azerick slowly opened his eyes and examined the room in which he lay. He reclined on a pallet of furs laid over what he assumed was a mattress of stuffed straw atop a stone plinth. Several wool blankets were layered upon his unclothed body, which was protected from their coarse fibers by an undyed silk sheet.

  The room was shaped like a half sphere. The circular walls and domed ceiling appeared smooth and polished with great effort given in their shaping. Natural crystals grew from much of its dark surface, a few of the larger ones glowing with a comfortable white light. Other than his pallet, there were no other furnishings.

  Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Standing in the archway leading to a larger chamber was a woman unlike any he had ever seen. She was tall, very tall. It was hard for Azerick to gauge her exact height from his reclined position, but he guessed at least seven feet in height. However, her size was the least defining of her features.

  Her skin was a pale blue and glimmered as if covered in millions of tiny diamonds. On closer inspection, Azerick saw they were extraordinarily fine, crystalline scales. Her eyes were large, almond-shaped, and the color of molten gold. The pupils looked like the blade of a black dagger splitting the iris down the middle. Her ears swept back slightly and came to a delicate point. A thick braid of hair like spun silver as fine as silk hung over her left shoulder where it nearly touched her waist.

  She was incredibly thin, almost frail looking, but Azerick immediately sensed enormous power radiating from her. Even her voice held power as she spoke, sending a tremor through his body despite its soft tone.

  “Good, you are awake. How do you feel?”

  Azerick felt his panic rise as he quickly discovered a great many things wrong. “I can barely move! What is wrong with me? Where am I? Who are you?”

  “I will explain everything in its due course, but you must remain calm,” the creature said softly. “I am Lissandra, and you are in my home. Do you know your name?”

  Azerick searched his mind but found nothing except grey emptiness and a few vague recollections. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything! What is wrong with me? What happened?”

  Lissandra pursed her lips in consternation. “It appears the process of bringing you here caused some damage to your mind. It is not unexpected, and as frightening as it seems now, it could have been much worse.”

  “I don’t know who I am, where I am, or how I got here, and I cannot do more than twitch my body! How could it have been worse?” Azerick shouted, the fear making his voice tremble.

  “Your mind could have been irrevocably destroyed, casting you into an incurable madness. Now you must remain calm. I will do everything in my power to set things aright.”

  Azerick took several deep breaths to calm his frayed nerves. He realized panic would n
ot help and only calm, rational discussion would improve his situation. It did not appear as though the creature meant to harm him, at least not at the moment, but there were a great many questions he needed answered.

  Lissandra continued, “Your name is Azerick Giles and you are in my home. The process of bringing you here was monumentally difficult and the strain has caused some damage, particularly to your memory.”

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “That is a reasonable question with a very complex answer. There is much I do not know and even more I cannot tell you. Such discoveries of yourself you must find and process on your own. What I will tell you is that you are very important, and it is vital I return you to your former self, as much as is possible.”

  “Why am I so important, important to whom, and for what?”

  “I cannot tell you that.”

  Azerick’s anger washed away his fear like a strong rain. “I need to be able to trust you if you expect anything from me, and that starts with at least telling me who I am, why I am important, and why you brought me here. Your actions have done me enormous harm, and you owe me an explanation.”

  Lissandra paused to consider the young man’s demands, piercing him with her strange reptilian eyes. “She warned me you could be difficult. Apparently, that was not lost with your memory.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Sharellan, goddess of the abyss, from where I retrieved you.”

  “Why would a goddess know of me? Why was I in the abyss? Isn’t that a place for evil people to go when they die? Was I dead? Was I an evil person?”

  Lissandra let out a long breath. “This is going to be more tedious than I anticipated, but I suppose if I were in your position I would be asking much the same thing. You should know that if you were in mine, you would understand why I cannot tell you everything you want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your memories are what make you who you are,” Lissandra explained. “They are more than a simple collection of facts. The emotions tied to every memory you possess, and how you dealt with the situations which caused them, define you. It is the difference between reading about a frightening event and living it. It is the difference between reading a poem about love and being in love. I must restore not just what you once knew, but who you once were. The fate of this world depends on it.”

  “The fate of the world? Who am I? How can I possibly be so important?”

  “You are a powerful sorcerer; a wielder of magic. The gods saw you deeply entwined within the strands of fate and have watched over you since your birth.”

  “Surely I cannot be more powerful than the gods.”

  Lissandra did her best to explain. “Power is subjective and comes in many forms. The gods have the power to shift mountains and raise the seas, but they cannot alter the course of fate. Their power is limited, particularly where the races of our world are concerned. To affect the course of fate for the races, the gods must work through the mortals of our world. You are one such mortal.”

  “There are others like me?”

  “Many people have been chosen, and though each of them is vitally important, none play a role as great as yours.”

  Azerick had a difficult time comprehending what the creature was telling him. How could he do what the gods could not? He certainly did not feel powerful. He could barely move more than his head.

  “Can you fix me?”

  “I believe so,” Lissandra answered with a nod. “The process of bringing you from the abyss to here was enormously complex. It took years of this world’s time to pull you out. Even then, you floated between worlds for months. It took all of my energy to maintain my hold upon you. Such an endeavor placed an enormous amount of stress on your body and mind. Had your soul not belonged here, such a task would not have been possible. It should be easy to restore function to your muscles, but reclaiming your memories will take time.”

  Azerick’s hope soared. “You think you can get my memory back?”

  “In time, yes, but be warned, it will take an emotional toll upon you,” Lissandra said gravely. “You will relive every moment of each of those memories anew, and you have more terrible memories than most. What you experienced and came to terms with over the course of your life, you will do so again in only a matter of months. I pray you are as strong as Sharellan said, or you may yet still go mad. It is something I have witnessed, and do not wish to repeat.”

  “You have done this before? Who was it?” Azerick asked.

  Lissandra looked into the distance, beyond the stone walls of the room and deep into the past. “Once, for my grandson,” she said quietly.

  “Lissandra, why am I so important? What is it I am supposed to do?” Azerick asked again.

  “I cannot tell you what to do, no one can. Not even the gods know what will happen before it occurs. They can only prepare for eventualities. I do know this: you must unite the races once again or all is lost.”

  Every explanation only created more questions and it made Azerick increasingly frustrated. “I feel as though we are talking in circles! Unite them against what? Or is that something else I have to discover on my own?”

  “I understand your frustration, Azerick,” Lissandra said, straining to hold her own temper in check, “but you must be patient. You will understand more as we regain your memories. Most, if not all, are still within you, but they are like lost sheep wandering aimlessly through a strange, dark forest. I will be your Sheppard and will bring them back to you, but you must be patient and trust me.”

  “Then tell me something, anything,” Azerick pleaded. “I am lost in a darkness that has nothing to do with my eyes!”

  “I suppose a simple lesson in history will do no harm,” Lissandra yielded. “Nearly two millennia ago, the races rose up against the gods before our gods. These beings were known as the Scions. The Scions are an ancient creature, formed alongside the world upon which we reside. They were to shape the lesser creatures that came later, but instead of being the benevolent caretakers of the world and its inhabitants, the Scions became petty and capricious. They demanded more and more sacrifice and supplication.

  “As the races became more independent, the Scions grew more jealous. They used dragons to control the races through fear and brutality because it was easier to control a few hundred dragons than hundreds of thousands of humans, elves, and other races. A few of the elves, always having been sensitive to the effects of the Source, discovered a way to harness its energy and shape it into magic. They were the first sorcerers. From them, other elves discovered a way to emulate these innate abilities, and they became the first wizards.

  “When the Scions discovered the elves were tampering in the domain reserved for gods, they were furious. They unleashed the dragons and struck down several of the elven cities with their terrible power. Human cities soon followed. The Scions knew that with the curiosity of humans, it would only be a matter of time before the humans also stumbled upon wizardly ability.

  “In a secret gathering of all the leaders of the races, it was decided they would rise up against their masters and cast off the heavy hand of oppression or die trying. The races knew even elvish magic was not enough to defeat the dragon watch dogs, much less the Scions, so they created tools of incredible power. The humans and dwarves constructed suits of armor that could withstand the awesome power of the dragons. They gave these suits to the most powerful warriors amongst the races to do battle against the creatures.

  “It was left to elves to face the Scions themselves, which meant they needed a tool of great arcane power. By this time, the All Mother, the creator of everything, had been incubating new gods to replace the Scions for millennia, but she dared not make the same mistake with them. Therefore, she limited their ability to act directly upon this world. The new gods were born and created a book called the Codex Arcana. The Codex contained a vast amount of magical knowledge and they gave it to the elves so they could find the answers they desperately nee
ded. The Codex showed the elves how to mix the life essence of a dragon with that of the elves. This created a being of extraordinary magical ability.”