TST (39 page)

“I think I will go to North Haven. That was where I was heading before we got lost at sea. From there, who know? I have some friends sailing about up there that I will need to get in touch with.”

Azerick and Duncan spent the next two days gathering supplies that they thought he would need to make a comfortable trip. His pack was heavy and Azerick was glad that he had stayed in decent physical shape while he was with the dwarves.

Duncan and several other dwarves offered to take him a couple days closer towards North Haven through their tunnels, which he gladly accepted. Although he was anxious to return to the surface and feel the sun on his skin, he knew that he would cover far more distance in less time underground than he would crossing the several leagues of rough terrain above ground. As the small party gathered at the entrance of one of the main tunnels heading westerly, Azerick heard someone calling his name.

He turned towards the source of the call and saw Togar running towards him with a long staff in his hands. “Hold up there, lad! I’m glad I caught ye. I told ye that I owed ye for my life, twice, and I settle my debts.”

“I was glad to help, you do not owe me anything, Togar,” Azerick assured him.

The dwarf suddenly turned serious. “It be a poor thing to refuse a gift, boy. Now I made this for ye outta my appreciation for what ya done. Now ya can take it in yer hand or ya can take it upside yer head and that’s all there be to that!”

“In that case, Togar, I will gladly accept your gift and with great pleasure.”

“Good, that’s more like it!” Togar shouted, a smile leaping back to his bearded face. “I just happened to find a nice vein o’ arcanum when that big cave bug jumped out at us and I used a goodly portion of it on this here staff.”

Azerick took the staff from Togar and marveled at its craftsmanship. It was just over six feet long, the bottom two feet capped in arcanum while the top sported an arcanum sphere the size of an apple. The wooden shaft was made of a burgundy wood so dark it was almost black. It was surprisingly light but he could tell by the feel of it as well as a certain intuition that the staff possessed extraordinary strength. By far the most impressive features were the vast assortment of runes carved throughout its length to include the brilliant ball of arcanum that topped the end.

“Togar, this is incredible. I don’t know what to say,” Azerick said as he stared in awe at the weapon. There was no doubt in his mind that the staff was far more than a mere decorative walking stick.

“O’ course it’s amazing! It has to be to cover the debt I owe ye on account that I’m pretty damn amazing myself!” Togar roared with laughter along with the assembled dwarves.

Azerick looked at the runes that adorned the staff before turning his gaze at Duncan. “Duncan, did you carve these runes?”

“Aye, boy, I did at that. You saved more lives than just Togar’s and when he told me about the staff he was making I figured I would add my own touch on account of everyone you helped. I know I got more from that big book of yours than you probably got from my rune teachings so I figured I’d pitch in.”

“Thank you, Duncan, thank you all. You have all been most hospitable.”

“Well, if we’re all done lollygagging and getting all weepy over a stick, let’s get on our way,” Togar bellowed and led the procession down the tunnel.

It was an uneventful three days of tunnel crawling. The large, well-sculpted tunnel quickly turned into a smaller, much rougher sort with rough-hewn wooden beams supporting it, but the entire journey was easy going if incredibly boring. As much as Azerick enjoyed the dwarves’ company, he was eager to see the outside again beyond the few trips he had made to the surface with Duncan to see their grazing pastures. As they came to the end of the tunnel, one of the dwarves ran up to the end and jabbed the handle of his pickaxe up through a small hole in the cave ceiling.

His prodding brought down dust and clumps of earth followed by a warm beam of sunlight shining down through the hole. The dwarf then pulled a metal pipe about three feet long off his shoulder and stuck one end up through the hole he had cleared. He turned left and right while peering through an eyepiece set into the end of the pipe and announced that the way was clear.

Three more dwarves raced up, turned a handle, and pulled. Azerick was amazed to see a four-foot section of the cave wall swing in on concealed hinges. He thrust his hand before his eyes as bright sunlight suddenly washed over him.

“This is where we part ways, Azerick. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that we don’t want any gossip floated around about our home or this doorway here,” Duncan said.

“No, of course not. I will not tell a soul about it, not that I could likely find it again if I wanted to,” Azerick replied.

Duncan looked at the staff Azerick carried in his hand. “That staff is more than just a stick, as I’m sure you know. Those runes I carved and enchanted it with can help you out in a fix. You just concentrate and that arcanum ball will assume just about any shape you can imagine. It’ll make a fine spear point if the need arises. It’ll also come to you on command no matter where you are or how far away you be from it. It’ll do more, how much even I don’t rightly know, but that’ll be up to you to learn.”

The dwarves all shook Azerick’s hand as they bid farewell and sealed the cave door behind him. Azerick looked at the wall of stone before him but could not see any lines, no matter how faint, that would lead one to presume there was anything here other than a huge outcropping of stone.

He pulled out a map that Duncan had given him that was rendered in magnificent detail on a large, thin square of soft leather. He saw that all he needed to do was head due west until he found the coastal trade road between Southport and North Haven then follow the road to North Haven. It was going to be a long journey on foot but he was well prepared and eager to walk among the trees and fresh air once more.

*****

Azerick sat near the small fire he had created, keeping his back to it in order to protect his night vision as he once more studied the staff in his hands. He ran his fingers lightly over the engraved runes embossed in arcanum as he let his mind delve once more into the magic of the staff. He had already learned a great deal about the abilities imbued into the weapon but there was still more to learn.

One of the first things he had learned was that it could store a vast amount of energy in the form of spells. He cast several of his spells into it each night so that he could replenish his own magical stores while he rested. The staff already held nearly as much power as he did which was considerable.

He practiced shaping the gleaming silver globe on the top into various forms, some artistic, some martial like a spear point over a foot in length. He also practiced setting it down, walking away, then calling it to him. The first few times felt strange as the staff suddenly erupted into his outstretched hand causing him to drop it more than once.

He had thankfully run across a couple small settlements where he could replenish his supplies. Taking down a deer or rabbit with a spell was rather easy but game had been uncommonly scarce. The few animals he did see bolted the second they so much as heard a twig snap under his feet. He was city born and raised and not accustomed to wilderness survival but the animals seemed especially skittish to him.

These observations were supported by reports from a few of the villagers that he had spoken to. They claimed that evil walked the land and no one would walk outside their homes after dark. Villages had begun posting guards and kept torches or lamps burning throughout the night.

Azerick wrote it off as small town superstitions but the longer he traveled the more he became unsure of himself. Camping just a day out from the last small settlement, he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his right eye. Azerick turned and stared into the darkness but could see nothing out of place. He wrote it off as a shadow created by the flickering of his fire.

He returned his attention to his staff when another movement just outside his line of sight snapped his head around. Again there was nothing there but the shadows created by his campfire. He strained his ears but could hear nothing but the crackling of the warm fire against his back.

Azerick was about to return to his studies when it dawned on him that the
only
sound he heard was his campfire; no owls, crickets or other nocturnal noises that normally pervaded the night.

Just then, one of the shadows separated from the surrounding darkness and glided towards him. Several more shadows drifted out of the darkness before the silence was broken by the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves and pine needles crunching underfoot.

The sorcerer sprang to his feet and launched a stream of magical darts into the nearest shadow creature. Three struck and caused the shadow to pause in its advance as it let out a soundless scream but the other two streaking orbs passed harmlessly through its incorporeal body. The shadows advanced without the least sign of fear as more substantial zombies and skeletons appeared within the glowing boundaries of his campfire.

“All right, you want a fight?” Azerick shouted at the mindless creatures. “You got it!”

The sorcerer raised his arm and unleashed a brilliant bolt of lightning into the swift-moving shadows. The white-hot bolt ripped two of the insubstantial creatures to shreds, their mouths elongating in a silent curse just before their forms lost all cohesion, spread out in every direction, and dissipated into nothingness.

Several of the zombies and skeletons shambling in behind were blasted apart but the third shadow was unaffected. Azerick brought his staff up to parry the swing that the shadow launched at his face but the undead creature’s arm passed right through the stout wood.

The sorcerer felt as though his blood had turned to ice as the shadowy clawed hand tore through his chest. The overwhelming sense of pure cold and evil almost caused him to lose his grip on his weapon and crumble to the ground, but knowing that to do so would result in his death kept him on his feet.

Azerick ducked and rolled to his left as the shadow swung with its other arm. He felt an icy chill pass over his back as he dodged under the blow and rolled back to his feet. Azerick released a flow of magical energy into the staff, causing the entire length to glow with a brilliant azure aura.

The shadow advanced relentlessly, intent on devouring the human’s rich life force. Azerick brought his staff around in a swift horizontal arc as soon as the fell creature came within range. The enchanted weapon passed right through the insubstantial shadow just as his spells had.

He ducked another swipe from the shadow and brought the staff down through the center of the shade’s spectral head. Azerick felt resistance press against his staff as if he had just struck water. A brilliant flash of light erupted from his weapon with a resounding crack as it passed through the shadow’s body, blowing it apart.

He felt a sharp burning pain as a skeleton’s claw-like fingers raked across his back, gouging deep furrows in his flesh. Without even turning to look at his assailants, Azerick gripped his staff in both hands, raised it vertically over his head, and brought it down with a shout. His magical command released a powerful burst of energy in a ring of expanding force, blasting away over a dozen undead creatures and sending them hurtling away from him.

Fury burned in the sorcerer’s eyes as he glared at the tide of undead that closed in on him. Azerick savagely shouted out another spell and conjured forth a semi-circular wall of stone spikes that impaled dozens of the undead abominations on their sharp tips.

The sight of the animated skeletons and zombies writhing and trying to pull themselves off the spikes that held them was almost more disturbing than seeing them bent on trying to kill him. Azerick called forth a shimmering gate and promptly stepped through. The magical doorway snapped shut as soon as it deposited him nearly a hundred yards away from where he had stood just a second before. He turned to face the now distant horde as he shook off the dizzying effects of gate travel.

Azerick had never been as comfortable with fire-based magic as he was with earth and air but it was far from beyond his ability to use. As the monstrous undead creatures went around and picked their way through the spike field, Azerick used the campfire as a focus for his spell and unleashed a massive explosion.