The Sorcerer's Return (The Sorcerer's Path) Read online

  The Sorcerer’s Return

  By

  Brock E. Deskins

  Books by Brock E. Deskins

  The Sorcerer’s Saga

  The Sorcerer’s Ascension

  The Sorcerer’s Torment

  The Sorcerer’s Legacy

  The Sorcerer’s Vengeance

  The Sorcerer’s Scourge

  The Sorcerer’s Abyss

  OTHER BOOKS BY BROCK E. DESKINS

  Shrouds of Darkness

  The Portal

  Copyright ©2013 Brock E. Deskins

  Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Thanks to my beta readers: David Cook, Oz, Adedayo Makinde,John Postmus, Rod Higgins,

  My proof and copy editor: Robert Lee.

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  EPILOGUE

  A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  When Raijaun was not clinging to Azerick’s back with his arms clasped around his neck, he was scurrying along the ground and climbing the sparse trees chasing after small animals. When he caught one, he devoured it fur, bones, and all. It was fortunate Raijaun could not fly yet; Azerick doubted his ability to control him if he could.

  Azerick chose to stick close to the Great Barrier Mountains. Not only was it nearly a straight line to Argoth, it was an out-of-the-way route that allowed him to avoid most human settlements. Few people made their homes near the imposing mountain range. The unnatural peaks were viewed with a significant amount of superstition, and the lands near them were rocky and provided few resources. Rains washed much of the soil farther down into the valleys where people erected small towns to eke out a living as farmers and ranchers.

  He could have shifted back into Klaraxis’ form and flown to Argoth in a fraction of the time, but his control over the demon lessened when he gave up his human body. Azerick also luxuriated being in his own body, especially here in his world where it almost made him feel normal. He knew it was a lie, but it was real enough to provide a measure of peace to his otherwise troubled soul.

  He also needed to spend time with Raijaun before entering Argoth. His son’s demonic nature was at the fore, and he needed to teach him to embrace his other halves. Lissandra said he would rise to great power, and Azerick needed to shape him into a rational and decent person or the results could be catastrophic.

  Azerick spotted his son near the top of an aspen tree. “Raijaun, come down. It is getting dark, and it is time we made camp.”

  Raijaun glanced down at his father before his attention back to another tree nearby. He tensed his muscles in a crouch and leapt, using his wings to guide him toward his target. Raijaun landed atop the unwitting opossum. His short but sharp claws locked onto the creature and a swift bite to the back of its neck ended its struggles.

  “Raijaun,” Azerick shouted again, “come down now!”

  Raijaun glared and growled a protest before obeying. His meal clamped in his teeth, Raijaun descended with the ease of a cat and cautiously approached his father. Azerick knelt and beckoned his son over.

  Azerick reached toward the dead animal Raijaun held in his hands. “Give me that.”

  Raijaun pulled the opossum in tighter and hissed in response.

  “Give it to me, now,” Azerick ordered more forcefully.

  Raijaun narrowed his reptilian, golden eyes but relented. He shuffled forward and set his kill in Azerick’s outstretched hand. Azerick directed a small amount of his abyssal power at the unfortunate creature and peeled the skin and fur away. He then gestured to a fire pit, and the logs combusted into a flickering orange glow. He proceeded to spit the carcass on a stick and roast it over the flames.

  “This is how civilized people eat,” Azerick patiently explained. “You must learn this. Your appearance is going to make it difficult for people to accept you, so it is important for you to act appropriately. Let people see your good character, and the important ones will accept you. Do you understand?”

  Raijaun flicked his eyes at his father, but the crackling of dripping fat and the smell of roasting meat took them captive again. He shuffled his feet impatiently and reached for the cooking meat.

  “No,” Azerick said, “you need to wait until it is cooked.” Raijaun hissed his displeasure and made another grab. “No.” His son began stamping and clawing the ground. “Throw a tantrum all you want,” Azerick said calmly. ”You will not eat until it is done.”

  Raijaun growled and spit, then stared at the fire intently. Cocking his head to one side and furrowing his brow in concentration, he extended a clawed digit and drew a shape in the air. Azerick dropped the spitted meat and leapt back as the flames of his campfire erupted upward. Raijaun darted in, grabbed the charred stick holding his meal, and snatched it from the fire.

  Azerick held out his hand. “Give it here. It’s not done.”

  Raijaun worked his tongue around in his mouth and smiled. “No.”

  Azerick could not help but grin at his son’s first word, regardless of his defiance. Taking his father’s smile as a sign of approval, Raijaun began dancing around the fire with the carcass held over his head, gleefully repeating “No!” The meat was seared on the outside and raw in the middle, but Azerick decided it was good enough and let him have it. The demonic child then shoved it into his face and began savagely tearing at the meat.

  This time Azerick did get up and take his food away. “We do not eat like that. Eat like this.” Azerick began pulling off strips of meat with his fingers and popping them in his mouth to demonstrate before handing it back to his son.

  Raijaun snatched the food from Azerick’s hands and made to cram it in his mouth once more.

  “No,” Azerick said.

  “No!” Raijaun countered.

  “Yes.”

  “No!”

  Azerick glared at his son. Raijaun let out a loud huff through his nose and began picking off strips of meat as he had been told. Seeing his son was going to behave, Azerick pulled a book and quill from his small satchel and started writing. Raijaun watched him intently as he consumed his meal, sidling over and peering past Azerick’s shoulder as he wrote. Raijaun finished eating and drew in the air with his finger. He then reached over Azerick and tapped the page of his book.

  “Those are letters,” Azerick explained. “When put in order, they make words. These words are telling about the Scions. I will need to tell a lot of people about them and the danger they represent. Writing it down is the best way to do so.” Raijaun drew in the air once more, so Azerick grabbed a small stick and scribbled in the dirt. “I’ll show you the letters of the alphabet.”

  Azerick began scratching out the letters while Raijaun watched attentively. He used the claw of his index finger in an attempt to mimic his father’s drawings in the dirt. He did well on the letters with straight lines, but curve
d shapes were a trial.

  “Like this.” Azerick drew the letter again with deliberate care. Raijaun tried again, but the curve came out scraggly. “Watch carefully,” Azerick said as he drew the shape again.

  Raijaun tried once more, but the shape vexed him. He clawed at the dirt, destroying the letter, and raced up a nearby tree, where he began tearing off the smaller limbs in a fit of pique.

  “Tantrums will not solve your dilemma, only practice and rational thought,” Azerick called up to his son.

  Raijaun climbed back down the tree and gestured at the fire, causing the flames to erupt again. “Fire!”

  “Yes, fire. Very good, but you still need to learn how to read and write. Still, at four-days-old, you are a very smart boy.”

  Angry, temperamental, and prone to irrational tantrums. So much like his father.

  “Shut up, demon. You are not, nor will you ever be, his father.”

  I was referring to you.

  “Hilarious, now go away and sulk some more. I have a lot to do without you distracting me.”

  Azerick went back to writing while Raijaun doodled in the dirt. He had so much to do and so many things to put in place, he wondered if it was remotely possible. It reminded him of the old joke, “How do you eat a dragon? One bite at a time.” His first bite was writing down everything he knew about the Scions and developing an intense training regimen to fight the impossibly huge horde of creatures at their command.

  At the same time, he needed to teach Raijaun everything. It would be one thing to teach him magic, but he had to teach him basic education and behavior, and that before he learned how to incinerate a city all on his own. From what he had already observed, he did not have much time. Fortunately, it appeared as though Raijaun was a very fast learner. Of course, that meant Azerick had even less time to teach him.

  Neither Azerick nor his son slept. Azerick had no need of such a thing, but Raijaun did occasionally sleep when he was bored or simply because he wanted to. When Azerick finally looked up from his writing, he saw Raijaun had scribbled letters throughout the entire clearing. He looked around for his son and spotted him hanging upside down from a low tree branch with a large rabbit clasped in his hands. Raijaun caught his father’s visual cue and looked at the rabbit.

  “Fire!” Raijaun said and gestured with a free hand.

  A small ball of fire burst between his hands hot enough to burn away every strand of fur and crisp the outer skin. Azerick nodded, conceding it was enough, and began packing away his things while his son ate his morning meal. His table manners still needed work, but he was getting better every day.

  The morning was just dawning, casting the increasingly sparse forest into a blue twilight. Winter must be near at hand or on the way out. The air was crisp, and plumes of fog belched from their nose and mouth with every breath. The chill air was no more a problem than the wan light thanks to their monstrous physiology.

  The walk to their destination was long, and Azerick spent the days writing and educating his son. He avoided teaching Raijaun any magic since he was still quick to react in anger. This did not prevent him from discovering some small spells on his own, spells which kept Azerick on his toes and a quick admonishment on his lips. Raijaun was yet another thing in which time was determined to battle against him. One bite at a time, he kept reminding himself.

  The farther south they traveled, the more barren the land became. The sparse trees dwindled into shrubs and continued to shrink until only an occasional thorny twig crawled out from under a boulder. The days were warm but the nights near freezing. Were either of them human, it would have been a treacherous journey. Azerick avoided the few small settlements and rare traveler. Despite its ruggedness, the rocky desert provided valuable minerals for those willing to brave the inhospitable land.

  It was three weeks of unhurried travel before they reached the city of Argoth. The city was a sprawling affair of mostly two and three story sandstone structures. Argoth was the primary center of commerce for all eastern Valeria and Sumara. Throngs of people crowded the bustling streets, engaging in boisterous trading or just trying to navigate from one place to another as Azerick was doing.

  Azerick held Raijaun close to his chest, concealing his features within a deeply hooded peasant’s tunic and trousers. It did not take long for him to spot the castle located in the center of the city, as well as the less expansive but equally impressive Hall of Inquisition. He assumed Ellyssa and the Codex were both secured inside the Hall, but he needed to find someplace safe for his son. If he failed to intimidate the Inquisitors into submission, things could get ugly, and he did not want his son caught in the middle.

  He knew the perfect place, and it did not take long to find it. The brothel was only half a mile from the city center, and its personage was accustomed to unusual requests. They also understood the value of gold and the threat of harm. Azerick drew several looks as he entered; some of scorn for bringing a child in with him, but most simply sized him up to judge his wealth.

  A woman in silk robes and wearing a thick layer of makeup to hide her middle-aged appearance sauntered toward him. “Hello there, handsome. What’s your pleasure today?” she purred in seductive voice.

  “No pleasure, only duty I am afraid,” Azerick replied. “I have business to attend to that is best not conducted in front of my son, so I am leaving him in your care.”

  “Sweetie, this is a brothel, not a nanny service or boarding school. I have enough trouble with my girls bringing their little bastards in to work.”

  “I understand, but my son is special.”

  “Honey, everyone thinks their kid is special. Half of them ain’t, and the half who is, ain’t special in a good way.”

  Azerick tilted Raijaun’s head up so the Madam could see his face. The woman gasped and took a step back as her hand flew to her painted lips. Even her liberal use of blush did not hide the paling of her face.

  “Dear gods, what is that?”

  “He is my son, and I shall pay you well to watch over him.” Azerick pulled out small pouch and trickled several small but flawless gems into his hand. “These shall be yours for performing what should be a simple task. All you need to do is keep him safe until I return. Should I fail to return within twenty-four hours, you will follow the instructions on this note.” Azerick pulled a slip of paper from another pocket of his black clothes. “You will give this letter and my son to whomever is in charge of the next Tower Trading Company caravan to arrive in the city. When last I knew, they had one arriving every three months. I do not know when the last was here or when the next shall arrive, but it should be easy to find out.”

  The Madam visibly swallowed and took several deep breaths. “I-I don’t know if I can.”

  “My dear lady, it is not a request.” Azerick cast an incantation upon the pouch of jewels and placed it into the trembling woman’s hand. “In case you think to abandon your duty and disappear with your riches, know I have placed a spell upon them. Not only will I know where to find you, but your flesh will shrivel and your eyes shall melt from their sockets if you try. I killed the Mushadan of one of Sumara’s largest cities and slew almost a score of his wizards because he had purchased my apprentice to be his slave. Imagine what I would do for my son. Imagine it well, Lady,” he finished softly.

  “W-what shall I do with him?” she asked, barely able to command her trembling legs to keep her upright.

  “Take him to one of your rooms and make him comfortable. He has a voracious appetite and will want to eat frequently. Meat seared on the outside for the sake of civility. He also enjoys milk with an even mixture of blood.”

  “B-blood? Whose blood?”

  Azerick could not suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “I recommend goat for both. I saw a multitude of them on my way across the city, so it should pose no problem to get either. Remember my instructions and follow them to the letter.” Azerick knelt next to Raijaun. “Raijaun, I need to go take care of some things, and it is too dan
gerous to bring you with me. I need you to stay here and behave yourself. Do you understand?”

  Raijaun nodded solemnly and took a step toward the Madam. To her credit, she did not run from the room screaming or even step away, despite what the terrified portion of her brain demanded. Her fear of the small creature next to her paled in comparison to what she felt for the young man.

  I am impressed, Klaraxis said as Azerick pushed through the bustling streets toward the Hall of Inquisition. You are finally acting the way you should, instead of with all the simpering please and thank you of a weakling.

  “Do not think I did not feel your influence on my emotions and action. In this case, I felt it expedient to give in to your manipulations. If you are as smart as you keep proclaiming, you will not continue this battle over my actions. If I fail, we all die, including you.”

  I know this, fool. Why do you think I am not fighting you for control every waking moment? But I still think I am better suited to fight the Scions than you are, and I will take control when you slip. But I will not distract you with our petty squabbles. When I take back my body, it will be swift, and you will not even know the battle has begun until you are sitting in this prison, able to do nothing but look out between the bars just as I do now and watch as I destroy everything you have created.

  “Fine. You can start by shutting up. I need to think.”

  ***

  Fennrick wearily strode down the hall toward the Senior Inquisitor’s office where Elias and Duchess Paulina awaited his weekly report. Not only did he have to report yet another week of failure, but now a dead man demanded an audience with the Council of Inquisition. He paused to compose himself before entering Elias’ office. Elias sat behind his desk, ready to leap to the Duchess’ commands, while Her Grace reclined on a sedan sipping wine. Fennrick thought it was far too early for such libations, but the repeated image no longer surprised him.