The Sorcerer's Vengeance: Book 4 of the Sorcerer's Path (17 page)

“I was just on my way to pay him a visit, Shakrill. My agent already reported to the general that he had recovered the helm and was on his way to deliver it. I have had a difficult time scrying or making contact since then so I am going to see to it personally. The general is probably waiting for me to retrieve it at this very moment, unknowingly camped with his men in an area that interferes with such magic,” Krendall replied, forcing his voice to remain neutral.

He had no love for the temperamental wizard, as few if any did, but he was not foolish enough to provoke her.

“You had best hope he has it, Krendall. You parted with a great deal of the tower’s treasures to pay for its acquisition, foolishly in advance I might add,” Shakrill snarled down at the Krendall.

“Do not worry yourself. The general is too honorable a man to deceive us and intelligent enough that he sees the inherent risks of possessing such a highly desired object. I will return in less than a fortnight with it, I assure you.”

A young senior apprentice burst through the tower door at that moment, barely able to draw enough breath to explain his panicked state.

“M-master Krendall, there is a strange wizard at the tavern!” he rasped out. “He, he, killed Paul! He blew his chest clear out of his back and sent me halfway across the bar like I was nothing but a novice!”

Shakrill heard the senior apprentice’s fearful recitation and shouted. “Anthony, Sasha!  Come to the atrium, now!” she shouted, lacing the command with magic that would carry it to the other wizards no matter where they were in the tower.

“Slow down, Jarred; right now you sound like a novice,” Magus Krendall told the youth. “What happened?”

“Paul and I went into the bar up the street and saw this guy about my age, sitting at the table with a powerful-looking staff. Paul marked him as a wizard but obviously not from the tower and we confronted him. He stabbed Paul through the chest and blew him to the abyss and sent me sprawling before we could even begin to cast a spell.”

“What does this wizard look like?” Krendall asked.

“He is my age, brownish bronze hair, dressed in dark clothes with a black cloak, and is carrying a silver and blood-red staff, spear thing,” Jarred explained anxiously.

Two more full wizards came rushing down the steps at Shakrill’s command.

“Krendall, take Anthony and Sasha and bring me this wizard who dares flout the tower’s authority and attacks its members. Preferably alive if at all possible,” Shakrill demanded.

“Of course, Shakrill, it is not as though I have anything else to do but jump at your commands,” Krendall replied, giving her a mockingly obsequious bow.

Shakrill glared at the wizard. “You have taken your sweet time thus far, Krendall; a few more minutes will not matter.”
When I command this tower that will be another one that I will enjoy have licking at my feet,
the dangerous wizard thought to herself as the three mages departed the tower.

Krendall spied the man that Jarred had described hustling across the street within plain view of the tower and pointed him out to the others who quickly fanned out to the sides to avoid them all being caught with a single spell. He sent a lightning bolt arcing out at the young spell caster without warning. Only fools and soon to be dead fools openly challenged another before striking.

Azerick’s skin prickled in warning. He spun just in time to see three, black-robed wizards spreading out before him. The one in the center released a powerful blast of lightning just as he spun to face them. Azerick stuck his staff out and absorbed whatever energy had not been deflected by his wards. It was a convenient if inefficient way to recharge his staff’s power without casting any of his own spells into it.

Azerick created several illusionary duplicates of himself while he sprinted across the large open square. The wizard named Anthony foolishly sent a volley of magical bolts lancing out at him that his wards easily absorbed although it did serve to destroy three of his duplicates.

Sasha sent a massive fireball that erupted just behind Azerick’s running form. He smelled burning hair, cloth, and his exposed skin reddened and burned, but his wards and dodging protected him from being burned to a cinder. The nearby building was not so fortunate. Its wooden walls burst into flame like the dry tinder it was.

Azerick tucked into a roll as the fireball sped his way. He rolled into a crouch and let loose a powerful blue and white ray, crackling with energy, at whichever wizard was unfortunate enough to be in his sights. The beam struck one of the male wizards in the chest.

Anthony’s wards flared brightly as the spell overcame the protection they provided. The beam burned deeply into his chest and sent a jolt of electricity running through the wizard’s body so powerful he broke his own spine as his muscles contracted, arching his back in agony.

Earthen hands erupted from the ground, grabbing at his ankles and wrists. The large sandstone hands wrapped around both his ankles and left wrist just as he released his spell at the now dead wizard. Runes flared on Azerick’s staff as he brought it around with his free hand and struck the hands with its arcanum sphere. The moment the gleaming orb touched the grasping arms, they burst apart into useless sand.

Azerick cast another spell and stone spikes erupted beneath Sasha. The wizard screamed in surprise and pain as one of the spikes penetrated her wards and slashed a deep wound in her thigh. The force of the stone thrusting up beneath her struck her magical shield hard enough to lift her up and throw her several feet.

Azerick brought his staff around to bear on the only wizard still standing—the one that had summoned the hands. Before he could release another spell, a second pair of massive hands erupted out of the earth and tried to grab him. Azerick rolled aside and leapt to his feet, pointing his staff at Krendall, thinking he had avoided the grasping hands. He felt himself struck hard in the side and went tumbling, his staff knocked from his grip.

Azerick turned his head and saw that these hands were not anchored to the ground, that they were in fact floating a few feet above it and were rushing towards him. He tried to dodge them but the huge hand slapped him down once more. Azerick sent a lightning bolt into one of the hands, tearing huge chunks from its form but failed to destroy it. The hands spread apart then slammed into him from each side as if he was a bug to be squashed. His wards shattered with a flash and he heard several ribs crack and his left arm hung limply and painfully to his side, refusing to follow any of his mental commands.

Azerick called his fallen staff to his bruised, battered, but still functional right hand. He jabbed the bright sphere into one of the hands, instantly turning it to dust as an earth rune flared brightly, but before he could face the wizard, the remaining hand wrapped itself around him and squeezed, pinning his arms to his sides and crushing the air from his lungs.

Azerick forced his brain to think past the panic of not being able to breathe and to find a way out of this predicament, but his vision was quickly narrowing to a pinpoint as his oxygen-starved brain slowly suffocated. He watched as the male wizard walked towards him smiling in satisfaction.

“You are probably going to wish I had killed you long before Shakrill gets finished with you,” were the last words Azerick heard before the roaring in his ears drowned out all other sound and his vision faded to black.

CHAPTER
9

Due to the sporadic appearance of new students over the last few weeks, no one took particular notice of the children that Ellyssa had rescued from the former Lord Potsworth’s estate and simply joined the classes to which Magus Allister assigned them.

The classes were run far differently than they were at The Academy in Southport. History of magic and magical theory was shelved for the time being. The students that could read well were put directly into an accelerated course of applied magic and this was the source of Allister and Rusty’s argument.

“I cannot believe you of all people are supporting this crazy plan of Azerick’s,” Rusty said to the old magus in frustration. “By skipping magical theory and history we are failing to instill the basic wisdom every responsible wizard needs to safely and wisely wield magic. Without it, we are doing nothing but creating a bunch of hedge wizards and setting them loose on an unsuspecting populace!”

“Franklin, I am just as surprised at the stance I am taking as you are, and in any other situation I would fully agree with you,” Allister replied calmly to Rusty’s vehement objections. “However, these are not normal times. Azerick has already been attacked once in these very halls, and we could well come under attack again. Azerick has gone through a great deal, more than most, certainly more than you can fully appreciate. He wants his students to be able to defend themselves.”

“From who?” Rusty shouted, waving his arms around over his head. “Don’t you think it’s possible that
because
of everything Azerick has gone through that
he
may be the one not looking at the situation objectively, that his own experiences have clouded his judgment?”

“Franklin, the reality is that there are reports of large roving bands of marauders harrying the countryside. They started in the south and have been methodically working their way north and west. There are disconcerting rumors out of Southport of strange doings and an increase in the size of Ulric’s military.”

“Rumors, Allister, and from what I have heard, Ulric is the only one who has even had the stones to confront these raiders! It only makes sense that he is building up his troop strength so that he is not plucked like a winter fest goose like these other towns.”

Allister stroked his long white beard. “It does appear that way, at least on the surface of things, but I have lived in Southport and known Ulric far longer than you have, and I have never known that man to do anything out of the goodness of his heart. If there is an altruistic bone in his body he stole it off the corpse of someone he killed.”

Rusty sighed and tried to appeal to Allister’s logic. “Look, even if the raiders came this far north, they would have to have a much bigger force than what has been reported to attack North Haven, and who would attack what is by most accounts an orphanage?”

“They may well find enough allies to attempt to invade North Haven. Southport is too large and Ulric has too many forces for anything other than a true army to attack. However, North Haven has no army and less than two thousand men on the city watch. Even calling in the militia only adds another three thousand. Three thousand spears with less training than the watch! It is not a secret that a certain ‘wizard’ has started an orphanage, pumped a considerable amount of gold into the city’s economy, and started a very successful trading company. If these marauders are after plunder then a rather wealthy orphanage is quite a tempting target.”

Allister set a hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “And what would happen if someone did lay siege to North Haven? It would take only a few heavily armed warships to seal her port and a few thousand determined, well-trained men to seal off the city preventing any message from reaching King Jarvin to beg for aid. And speaking of the ‘orphanage’, do you think an invading army’s leaders are going to look at this fortified keep and simply ignore it? Not only could someone slip away and get word to Jarvin, it would make an excellent base of operations for the invading officers.”

“Surely Ulric would send help if we were attacked. His army must be nearly as large as King Jarvin’s,” Rusty replied.

“You are discounting the possibility that Ulric is in league with these bandits. Ulric despises the king; that is no secret. He has just as much aspirations as any man and far more gall than most. North Haven is largely loyal to His Highness, and if Ulric is considering a coup of some kind, he cannot afford to leave and enemy at his back.”

Rusty looked scandalized. “You don’t think Ulric would attack his own countrymen?”

“I do not put anything past that man’s greed and ambition. He tried to court Duchess Mellina and failed. He tried to court Lady Miranda and got himself humiliated. Twice he has tried to link their two cities and failed. Who is to say how far he will go to achieve what he wants.”

“But even if he did conquer North Haven, Jarvin would never recognize his claim and would raise the other dukes and lords against him,” Rusty said, almost pleading with the old magus.

“Unless he had a plan to replace Jarvin. I told you, the man has ambitions and only he and the gods know how high those ambitions go.”

Rusty continued to plead with his former teacher. “Promise me that when the threat passes we will go back and teach them the way they do at The Academy. You and I both know that what we are doing right now was the reason that The Academy was instituted, to prevent the kind of unchecked power that undisciplined wizards have at their command.”

“Of course we will, Franklin, and it is not as though we are simply handing over vast amounts of power without taking a close look at who we are training. I know you watch the personalities of your students and drill into them the responsibility that each of them must have for their conduct and I hope that you respect me well enough to know that I am doing the same,” Magus Allister said, looking into his former student’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Magus, and that is why I am so worried.”

“Have you seen something that troubles you?”

“Have you watched the kids playing?”

Allister furrowed his brow, trying to think of what his former pupil was getting at. “Of course I have. I have watched them play in the snow and play other games out on the grounds.”

“Have you seen the ones
not
playing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been watching them, Allister, and very closely. Anytime the kids let go and play, there are always a few that stay at the edges watching for danger or anyone that might pose a threat. When an adult comes near, most of them stop and go on alert until they pass. You never see them in groups of less than three and are usually in packs of five or more, especially the ones that have been on the streets the longest. Ellyssa came from a loving home and is only here because of their total poverty. Peck lost his family but was lucky to get a job and live at the stables of a nice inn shortly after. Even Roger and his siblings were only on the streets for a couple years. Most of these kids have spent the bulk of their lives learning that everyone bigger than them is a source of danger. They learned that in order to survive, they had to do whatever was necessary to protect themselves.”