The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path) (50 page)

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 needed. 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.”

Azerick interrupted, “That is what you are. So you are two thousand years old? You fought these Scions?”

Lissandra inclined her head. “Indeed I did. The elves created twelve such creatures, of which I was one. We were called the Guardians, although we have gone by many names. Our duality of spirit prevented the Scions from simply dominating us as they did the dragons or any of the other lesser creatures. When the Great Revolution occurred, death beyond imagining cast its pall over the land. The Scions raised the mountains upon which we are now residing in just a day, effectively cutting the world in two. But even with the kingdoms divided, the races fought on, knowing that surrender would mean the death of their species, for the Scions would never allow them the opportunity to rise up again. 

“By the end of the war, only a fraction of the races’ original population survived along with one human hero, Magnus Ollandar and his marvelous armor. He became the first true human king, and his descendants have ruled ever since. With the aid of the new gods, the Guardians managed to defeat the Scions, but they failed to destroy them. The Scions agreed to banishment, knowing that one day they would return. That day is fast approaching, and it is why you are so vital.”

“How can I defeat the Scions if the gods could not? What about the other Guardians? Will they help me as they once did before?”

Lissandra’s mask of pure calm slipped for a moment and her pain flashed briefly. “I am the last of the Guardians.”

In that moment of shared loneliness, Azerick felt a kinship with Lissandra. “What happened to them?”

“The elves created twelve Guardians. By the time the Scions capitulated, only five still lived. The Guardians helped the gods banish the Scions within an alternate dimension and created a wall of magic to keep them confined. It was left to the Guardians to ensure the wall did not fail. We tried to live with the elves, who we viewed as our surrogate parents, but over the centuries, the elves became distrustful of our power. Many feared we would attain the highest positions within the elven hierarchy. The elves did not like the idea of being second to something they created. It was foolish, but they asked us to leave and so we did. Not belonging anywhere, and fearing others may turn against us, we fled to the far corners of the lands to maintain our vigil over the Scions’ prison.”

 “So where are the other four Guardians?”

“The prison walls were flawed, and the Scions have spent the last two millennia chipping away at them. On occasion, they managed to create enough of a breach to send through some of the minions they have spent the centuries creating. When that happened, the only thing strong enough to seal the breach was the entirety of our life force. The last breach occurred several years ago and the only other living Guardian gave his life to repair it. I am now the last, and my time is fading.”