The Sorcerer of Wands: Azabar's Icicle Part 2

by Jem I Kelley

  “It doesn’t look bad,” admitted Hamble, peering across the gloom. “I’ll go back to my cleaning. It’s best if I go back to my cleaning, because the street was messy.”

  No! thought Aden desperately. No! Don’t believe him, Hamble.

  Sardohan smiled.

  “Good friend, you do that. You do work hard. I’ll have to see Hacknor about getting you a rise.”

  Aden willed Hamble to be more suspicious, to come and take a closer look.

  “Thank you Mr Sardohan. More money would be nice. I would like more money. With more…”

  Sardohan cut him off.

  “Yes, well. No more than you deserve. Goodbye.”

  Hamble’s jaw dropped and he stopped talking. With a frown he turned and propelled himself on his arms, away from the statue. Aden was thrown into turmoil. Could he risk breaking cover to shout to the golem? Some of Sardohan’s men would attack him straight away if he did that; Hamble wouldn’t be able to hold them all off at once.

  “I’ll get back to my cleaning, because the street is dirty, but, I better tell Sergeant Plumbert about this first. He told me to report anything unusual. I know this is not bad, but it’s still unusual.”

  Aden was about to stand up from the brambles when he noticed Azabar’s head at the crypt hole. The sorcerer crawled out. What looked like a stick was in his hand: several sticks in fact. He pushed himself to his feet and drew level with Sardohan.

  Aden realised it had just become too dangerous to shout. In fact, with Azabar in possession of wands the dynamic of power had changed. Aden hoped Hamble wouldn’t get suspicious. Just keep going, thought Aden. Don’t turn around.

  “I heard exchange,” said Azabar. “You cannot let the golem go to the constable.”

  Sardohan’s face contorted in frustration.

  “I know, I know. I was just about to give the order. Gnashlok, dispatch the thing.”

  The half-ogre spat on the ground and walked towards Hamble.

  “Sure fing, boss.”

  Aden felt a chill as he pictured the half-ogre attacking his friend.

  Gnashlok gave a grunt and moved into a loping run.

  The run became a sprint and Aden held his breath as Gnashlok charged down on the retreating Hamble. At the last moment Gnashlok pushed himself into a flying dive: arms wide he flew at the golem’s waist.

  There was a crack which echoed around the clearing and both creatures fell to the ground.

  “Oh no,” said Bliss.

  Aden winced.

  Azabar caught Aden’s attention next. He was inspecting the wands he’d retrieved. Aden could see three. There were two thin wands about an arms length long; one was blue and the other white. Then there was a third wand. It was longer than the other two and tapered at one end. It seemed to be wrought from crystal, or perhaps, glass.

  “Look!” whispered Bliss and Aden turned his attention back to Gnashlok and Hamble. Surprised, he saw Hamble push himself upright with his arms; Gnashlok was in a ball, holding his shoulder, Aden could just make out the sound of a groan.

  “I always said Hamble would beat Gnashlok in a fight,” whispered Bliss.

  “Without even trying,” replied Aden.

  Hamble was upright and had turned back towards the Jester statue. His face had a puzzled expression.

  “Leave this to me,” said Azabar.

  He took the white wand from his left hand and with his right pointed it towards Hamble. He uttered a word and lightning leapt from the wand and struck the golem in the chest. Hamble looked at the charred spot and then at the sorcerer.

  Azabar stepped back a pace in shock.

  “No one should survive that.”

  Sardohan moved to put the jester statue between him and the golem. He spoke between clenched teeth.

  “He isn’t human. I thought you just said the wands in the crypt would be more powerful than the lightning thrower you made in Dazarian?”

  Azabar threw a dark look at the ambassador.

  “All three, they are more powerful than that primitive one. Have faith, the golem must be immune to lightning.”

  Azabar swapped wands; the blue wand was in his hand now.

  He uttered a word.

  Mist issued from the wand and like a ghost streamed upon Hamble. Ice grew on the golem. It built rapidly, body and arms and legs. Creaking and popping accompanied the build-up. Within seconds Hamble was encased in a boulder of ice.

  Aden heard an intake of breath from Bliss.

  Cracks formed on the ice and then it shattered. Hamble swivelled his head to look at the ice on the ground and his face showed puzzlement. He looked up towards Azabar and lifted his stump off the ground.

  The sorcerer swore.

  “Such strength!”

  “Haven’t you got anything better!” urged Sardohan, he was gripping the statue now and licking his lips nervously.

  Azabar widened his stance and threw aside his cloak.

  “Yes, I have better, human, much better.”

  He used his third wand, the glass one. Nothing seemed to happen.

  “It didn’t work,” said Bliss.

  “Look again,” whispered Aden, in awe.

  Between Hamble and the half-ogre, an object appeared on the ground: a lump, the size and colour of a snowball. The lump grew. In two breaths it swelled to the size of a snowman. Mist fell from the strange object as it continued to increase in mass. Pops and squeaks whipped the air as the ice grew and gathered shape. Buds appeared, lengthening to proper arms and legs. The thing continued to swell and grow, and inside of a minute a creature of ice towered above them all. On a parity with some of the trees near it, the creature loomed above all the humans in the clearing. Even Hamble was small in comparison, not reaching even to the monster's knee.

  Aden looked up in terror and felt chill cold as a wave of mist rolled down from the monster and seeped through the brambles.

  “Grokkin Eck,” whispered Bliss.

  Azabar pointed at Hamble.

  “Attack the wood golem!”

  The creature of ice moved. Squeaks hit the air as joints crunched against each other. Statues were kicked aside like nettles. In three strides the ice creature reached Hamble and brushed him aside with a back swipe of a forearm. Hamble hit the floor, rolled twice then crashed into a statue of an Alsatian on a low plinth. The statue shattered.

  The ice creature peered at the motionless wood golem, straightened and regarded its master through eyes which shone with blue light.

  Azabar lifted his cloak and brushed the dust from it, before securing it back around his shoulders. He breathed in a deep draught of the night air. He regarded the group of men on the other side of the Jester statue: Sardohan and his thugs.

  “Now, I think onto the Disc-Man Centre. Discs, they would complement my forthcoming empire.”

  “What?!” said Sardohan, eyes narrowing over his sharp nose. He marched back to where Azabar stood, and pointed a finger at the sorcerer’s chest.

  “The deal, my dear friend, was for you to have Novogorad.”

  “Sardohan. You did not inform me of artefacts or artefact man centre. Why is this? Why did it take more treachery from half-ogre to learn of such things?”

  Sardohan shot a hate-filled look towards the fallen Gnashlok, before adopting an innocent expression for Azabar.

  “I… I didn’t think it was important, Lord Azabar.”

  “Caduishka! You didn’t think it important indeed. Do you know what I think? I think you want a war to the North as diversion, so Dazarian can attack Haverland for itself. For sure, that is what I think.”

  Sardohan grimaced.

  “You’re going for the artefacts yourself, then?”

  “This is so, Sardohanski. A man called Stig I met whilst out feeding one night. I decide not to drain his blood after I hear thing he has to tell me. He negotiate with ambassador from disc-world called Argent, for me. I have obtain allies from there.”

  Sardohan didn’t hesitate.

 
“Men, take him.”

  Sardohan’s soldiers switched to handheld crossbows and fired at the mage. The bolts sped towards their target, then stopped short, then fell to the ground. Sardohan’s jaw dropped.

  Azabar peered at the bolts near his feet.

  “Wooden bolts, to kill a vampire, Caduishka! This is good idea, for sure.”

  “B…but how did you stop them?”

  “There are more wands below than I could carry. One, it confer protection from missile. I use it on myself before I climb from crypt. It will give me protection for hours. Fortunate of me to consider you possess capacity for such attack, don’t you think Sardohanski?”

  Azabar aimed the white wand at one of Sardohan’s men, a short fellow with a patch over an eye. He uttered a word and lightning sped across the gap, sizzled into the man. The man screamed and fell, wisps of smoke lifted from his body.

  Azabar aimed the wand at Sardohan, who staggered back.

  “Leave the park now. If I see you, or your men again, I will kill you, for sure. Tell Lord Kesskranski, he still has an ally in the North; but, one now equipped with artefacts. Go leave my sight!”

  Sardohan glanced at the fallen soldier to his right and shuddered. Turning, he began to run from the park. His men followed him.

  Azabar turned to the ice-golem.

  “Quick, lift me; we go to the Disc-Man Centre.”

  Chapter 63: The End of Bliss Todd

  The friends stayed hidden until the ice golem reached the woods on the other side of the clearing. It crashed through the trees, as easily as a human would push through a thicket of tall stinging nettles.

  Bliss let out a breath and slid the Disc-Artefact back in her pocket. She looked at Aden.

  “I almost pressed the thing… several times.”

  Aden was sympathetic. If he’d been holding a disc, he thought he probably would have pressed it earlier, like when Azabar approached the oak.

  He struggled to stand; his legs were numb from being motionless.

  “We’d better see how Hamble is.”

  They came out from behind the brambles and brushed off leaves and slugs that were on their trousers. Aden saw one of the hand-held crossbows Sardohan’s men carried. It lay discarded on the floor. Its string pulled back and taut, the bolt lay beside it. Aden took the weapon and dropped it into his coat’s voluminous inner pocket.

  The friends entered a jog in the direction of Hamble. A jog was about the best they could manage with their numbed legs; just as well as debris from the collapsed statues could trip the unwary. Sudden dips in the ground created by the weight of the ice-golems footsteps added to the danger in this twilight landscape.

  Hamble lay flat on his back with parts of the dog statue all around him. Aden and Bliss reached him and bent down. Bliss spoke with a worried voice.

  “You all-right Hamble?”

  No reply.

  The golem’s eyes stayed shut.

  Bliss swept the debris from Hamble and patted the side of his head.

  No response.

  “What shall we do, Aden?”

  Aden shrugged. What do you do? Bliss tapped Hamble harder, almost desperately. Aden wondered if it was the thought of losing two ‘people’ close to her, in such a short time which added to his friend’s actions.

  Still there was no response.

  Then Aden noticed Hamble’s hand.

  “His finger, it’s moving, he’s alive.”

  Hamble’s eyes flicked open, like a lid on a box.

  “Feel funny…”

  Aden gripped Hamble’s right thumb and said: “Are you okay? Can you feel pain?”

  “Feel funny. Not pain. Feel weak. Getting stronger; but, feel weak.”

  “You were knocked out.”

  As Aden gripped Hamble’s thumb and willed the creature to recover, he noticed for the first time that his wood wasn’t like any other wood: warmth emanated from it. Not much; but, it was noticeable.

  Bliss patted him on the shoulder.

  “Take it easy. Don’t try to move about too much at first, just a bit at a time. You had a hell of a knock.”

  “Big knock, what made me go funny and weak,” intoned Hamble. “I funny and weak still, but getting better.”

  Aden glanced at the gap in the trees where the ice-golem had passed. He let go of Hamble’s thumb.

  “We’ve got to stop the bad man with the ice monster, Hamble. You rest; we will come back for you later.”

  Hamble blinked and looked from one child to the other.

  “I rest. Rest and you come back for me later.”

  “That’s right. Come on Bliss, we’d better get a move on.”

  “We can’t leave him like this!”

  “He’s going to be fine. We have to stop Azabar and that ice-golem from getting Haverland artefacts.”

  “How can we stop them?”

  “One can be killed by light, the other can melt, think about it.”

  Bliss eyes widened, then narrowed: “You’re right.”

  They entered a jog, and travelled a short distance when a shadow rose before them. It was Gnashlok, hand clasped on shoulder, grimacing in pain.

  “Where ya going?”

  Aden came to a halt, shaken by the hate-filled stare of the half-ogre.

  “We have to stop Azabar.”

  Gnashlok winced with pain.

  “You daugs! stop Azabar!?”

  “Then you’ll let us pass?”

  Dull eyes glinted in the night.

  “I saw ya come out from da brambles. You bin snooping.”

  “So?”

  Gnashlok’s eyebrows pressed together.

  “I can’t let you talk.”

  “Azabar’s evil,” said Aden, “He could conquer half the world now there are no sorcerer’s left to stop him. Who knows what will happen if he manages to get hold of artefacts too.”

  “He’s me boss.”

  “He’ll have forgotten about you already.”

  “No chance.”

  Aden took the crossbow he’d found on the floor, from his coat pocket, and dropped the bolt back in place. He felt his hand’s shaking as he aimed it at Gnashlok.

  The half-ogre snorted.

  “I ain’t scared of you.”

  Then Gnashlok lunged. Everything happened quickly. Aden staggered back and fired at the same time. Rather than hitting Gnashlok in the chest where he’d aimed, it hit him in his already injured shoulder. The bolt sunk deep and Gnashlok howled in agony, then dropped to his knees.

  Aden tugged at Bliss.

  “Come one.”

  “What about Hamble?”

  “Gnashlok wants to get us, he’s not worried about Hamble, come on.”

  They started running. Aden’s legs remained numb; but, the sensation was fading. He looked back as he entered the path in the woods that led to Marchant Lake: Gnashlok was on his knees, still holding his shoulder.

  The jog in the woods was a journey through the dark; but, there was no time to worry. Once, twice, Aden lost his footing to a tree root or rock. His knees and ankle ached, but he had to carry on. He ignored the forest hoots and rustles that normally would have made him nervous.

  They came to the grassy slope leading down to Marchant Lake. The ice-golem’s footfalls were like a stream of shadowy pools passing near the lake and continuing to Connections Lane. The friends followed this trail and with breaths getting harder, crossed into the lane and then pushed themselves up Marchant Row.

  The cobbles of the row had proved more resistant to the ice-golems heavy tread than the lawn of the park. Evidence of its passing was a smattering of roof tiles dislodged by the shake it had sent into the homes bordering the road. The friends passed bewildered residents who had opened their doors, curious as to what had disturbed their lives. Babies and children, rocked by the noise, were crying and demanding attention.

  Struggling for breath and with a cramp in his side, Aden forced himself down Portal street, past the Disc-Man Academy, past the trapdoor
where the skeleton had entered the sewer and on to the gates of the Disc-Man Centre.

  The gates, wrought iron, lay cast aside as if made of paper. Aden paused to catch his breath and Bliss appeared beside him.

  Before them, past the ruined gates and some way within the academy the, ice-golem stood against the twilight, flailing arms and kicking his legs: sweeping soldiers to their deaths. Arrows and crossbow bolts leapt up at the giant creature, to no effect.

  Bliss pulled the Disc-Artefact from her pocket, and then stared at the scene in front of her. She put the artefact back.

  “Look where the thing is.”

  Aden eased into a jog again.

  “It’s outside the Argent building.”

  “You heard what Azabar said about Theodore Stig back there?”

  “Yeah.”

  The friends increased their speed. The cramp in Aden’s side returned but he ignored it. If Azabar was going to steal the Argent Disc, and Theodore Stig had already negotiated with the steam-creatures, then it would be more than just this world in danger. Azabar, his Icicle wand, thousands of bugbears and the soldier caste of the machines, would be an army that could sweep through all the worlds of the discs, destroying all before them.

  They had to stop Azabar.

  Constructed from dark plates, the Argent building’s design was a tribute to the world that its Disc-Artefact connected to. In some ways it resembled a vast wood stove, with its blocky design, dark bolted plates, and huge tall chimney. As large as a castle keep, it's flat roof was on a par with the ice golem's head. As the friends drew near, they could see a great gash in the front of this building. The creature stood before this gash, its pale blue eyes glaring at all who grew close. The soldiers who defended the Disc-Man-Centre had pulled back, clearly unable to hurt the thing with the weapons currently available to them.

  The two friends raced towards these soldiers, and as those men had their gaze glued to the monster of ice before them, the two passed by unnoticed. It wasn’t until they were between the soldiers and the creature that someone saw them and a cry went up for them to return.

  “We have to get Azabar,” said Aden, panting and leaping a fallen soldier. “The creature’s nothing on its own.”