The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path) (54 page)

Azerick clung to the side of the soaring mountain like a spider on a wall and made the mistake of looking down. Through the tops of the wispy clouds below him, he could see the sheer mountain face descend an untold number of feet. Farther out, where the mists did not cling to the mountainside, Azerick could see giant swaths of green, which he assumed were the tops of trees spreading out across the land and occasionally opening up to reveal lakes, rivers, and fields. He was so high up there were no distinctive features evident in the sprawling terrain, only a patchwork of colors, like a quilt blanketing the planet.

Looking up did not make him feel much better as thousands of feet of grey granite glared down at him, ready to send him plunging through miles of open air for his audacity in trespassing upon their heavenly heights. At this altitude, he should be freezing to death in his thin covering of silk, but his body maintained a comfortable temperature despite the massive plumes of fog erupting from his mouth as he breathed. He assumed it was due to Lissandra’s magic.

“Is this really necessary?” Azerick called up to Lissandra.

The Guardian looked down from her perch on a ledge perhaps a hundred feet above Azerick’s head, calmly sipping from the teacup that never seemed to leave her hand. “It is vital for your training, both physically and mentally.”

Azerick had undergone a series of grueling tasks over the weeks, each one more strenuous than the last. The simple, yet fatiguing, task of walking and doing lunges quickly became much more acrobatic like walking on his hands and performing stunts that required not just physical strength and endurance, but also significant balance and concentration. When Lissandra told him this morning that today was his last day of physical training, he had been overjoyed. When the Guardian then told him he would be climbing to the peak of the mountain in which they lived, he longed for his previous tortures.

He soon pulled himself up onto the ledge and sat next to Lissandra. “Is climbing to the top truly necessary?”

“It is important,” answered Lissandra.

“Why? What can I get out of the climb from up there I cannot get from here? Nothing has really fatigued me for days now.”

“I will tell you when we get there,” Lissandra answered cryptically.

Before Azerick could protest further, the Guardian’s teacup vanished and she lazily threw herself over the narrow ledge. The first time she had done this had startled Azerick terribly. He had rushed to the ledge, expecting to witness Lissandra plummeting to her death only to see her sheer silken robes become a pair of great leathery wings of an azure hue.

Lissandra abruptly reappeared as she raced upward, soaring several hundred feet over Azerick’s head until finding another ledge upon which to perch. She once again summoned her cup of tea and waited for Azerick to resume his climb. Azerick did not keep her waiting for long and resumed his arduous trek up the mountain face. It took Azerick nearly two hours to reach the Guardian’s newest roost.

“You are taking too long,” Lissandra said as Azerick pulled himself onto the ledge. “I want to reach the summit early enough to return by nightfall.”

Azerick gave her an annoyed look. “If you are in such a hurry, you could just fly me to the top.”

“The air is too thin, and you are too heavy for me to carry. Besides, it would defeat half the purpose.”

“The purpose being the amusement you take in watching me suffer?”

“Not entirely, but largely yes. Now hurry up. We are behind schedule.”

Azerick sighed as Lissandra once again hurled herself into open air and flew upwards. “Give me your wings and then let us see who reaches the top first,” he muttered.

With another grumble, Azerick picked out the best route for the ascent with his eyes before gripping the rock and climbing once more. The climb was not that difficult. The face of the mountain was rough and provided ample hand and toeholds and his body felt very strong. Azerick was not certain how strong he was before all this, but he had a feeling such unflagging strength was not normal for humans. What he did not know was whether the source of that strength was due to his rigorous training, the awful food and drink Lissandra forced him to eat, or something magical in nature.

Such a climb, especially by someone so ignorant about such an endeavor, should have been terrifying. However, Azerick knew Lissandra would never let him fall and, with such readily available support for his hands and feet, scaling the mountain was little more difficult than climbing a tree. That still did not mean Azerick was completely free from feeling nervous. There was simply no way to take his mind completely off the fact there was so much empty air between him and the ground.

Azerick finally attained the long, narrow ridge shrouded in snow and ice running up to the mountain peak like the monstrous spine of some colossal animal. Lissandra stood waiting only a few paces away, her silk gown fluttering in the breeze. She did not say anything, only turned and began walking along the steeply inclining ridge toward the rocky, snow-capped summit.

Azerick followed dutifully, plodding through the soft blanket of unmarred snow. It was then he noticed the Guardian left no footprints despite the fact that he sunk to his knees in the white powder. Yet another advantage of mastering the arcane, he surmised.

He continued to trudge up the slope, which became steeper as he neared the final ascent to the summit. Fortunately, it never became so steep he had to start climbing again. Azerick finally reached Lissandra, who was sitting on a bare expanse of rock, and flopped down beside her.

“Now will you tell me why you forced me to climb to the top of the world?” Azerick asked exasperatedly.

Lissandra pointed out toward the expanse beyond them and the clouds cleared away to reveal the world beneath them. “Look out there, and look well.”

Azerick did as he was told and studied the patchwork of colors thousands upon thousands of feet below him. Mile after mile of browns, greens, and golden swathes of land stretched out to the horizon. Blue ribbons of water looked like the veins and arteries of the land. Behind him, the peaks of grey stone and snow capped peaks, some nearly as tall as the one upon which he sat, stabbed at the sky in a jagged field as far as he could see.

“This is what you are fighting for,” the Guardian said. “Those lands you see, and even more you cannot, are populated with hundreds of thousands of lives. Beyond the Great Barrier Mountains lies an even greater land where millions call home. The Scions will destroy it all should they be victorious.”

“That is an enormous responsibility,” Azerick stated, feeling very overwhelmed under its weight.

“It is,” Lissandra agreed, “but your entire life has been carefully directed to be capable of bearing it. You are strong, and you must remain strong and unwavering in your resolve. I want you to remember this view and what it represents, and use this memory whenever you feel your resolve slipping. Tomorrow, we will begin recovering your memory, and you will need every source of strength you possess to endure it. You will hurt, you will doubt, and you will not want to face what you will experience, but you must so you will become what you were and what you must be.”

Azerick let Lissandra’s words soak in and responded heavily, “I understand.”

“I truly hope so. Come, it is time we returned.”

The Guardian took Azerick by the hand and the expansive vista from atop the mountain peak vanished and was replaced by the comforting walls of Lissandra’s home. Food was set out and waiting, and of a variety far more palatable than he had previously enjoyed.

There was little conversation that night, and Lissandra encouraged Azerick to get as much sleep as he could. Despite his anxiety over what was to come, he had little trouble falling into a deep sleep, thankfully devoid of nightmares. When next he opened his eyes, Lissandra was seated next to his bed.

“We will begin now,” the Guardian told him. “Your brain is at its least cluttered immediately after you wake.”

Azerick nodded. “Okay, so what do I do?”

“Just lie back and close your eyes.” Lissandra held up a clear gem the size of a large hen’s egg. “I will search your mind and store the memories I find in here, and then put them back in order, much like putting together a puzzle.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It is not. It will be challenging for me and positively overwhelming for you. Now close your eyes and let your mind go. You will sense little until I begin returning your memories to you. When you see them play out, you must focus on them and accept them back into you. Some you will joyfully welcome with open arms, others will make you want to flee and cause you great distress. You must fight the fear and pain of those unpleasant memories and take them in as deeply and completely as you do the others. It is part of who you are and you must not deny them. When you feel you cannot go on, remember what it is you are fighting for. The first day of battle starts now.”

Azerick closed his eyes and did his best to relax. He felt the cool pressure of the gem as Lissandra touched it to his brow and began softly chanting. The jewel hummed and vibrated against his skin and grew warm as if heated by the sun.

For a long time, Azerick felt and saw nothing, but then he detected a change in the heat and vibration of the crystal. Images began flooding in and Azerick willed them to clarity. Visually, they were indistinct, but a wave of emotion hit him with great force. He felt the arms of his mother cradling him, heard her voice singing him a lullaby, and felt the love for him radiating out of her. Tears came unbidden and flowed down his face as he experienced such unfiltered emotions.

His life raced forward in a series of flashes. Azerick reached out, grabbed hold of a particularly clear image, and drew it to him. He was on his father’s ship standing behind the huge wheel controlling the rudder. He looked up and beamed into his father’s strong face. Darius smiled down at his son, his calloused hands covering Azerick’s as he gripped the big, wooden wheel.

Azerick was in the courtyard of their home, the loud clack of wooden swords echoed off the walls as he and Master Ewen dueled in a mock battle. His old weapons instructor smacked him hard in the shoulder and berated him for leaving his guard open. The words of every book he ever read came flooding back to him, reminding him of how much he loved to read and learn.

The feelings he experienced were far more immersive and substantial than he had expected. Every sound, sight, and smell came to him with complete realism and solidity. Every emotion and sensation he experienced over the years felt as fresh as if everything was happening at that very instant, but compressed and concentrated into a few short hours.