The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path) (56 page)

“By standing together. You handled yourself well. Return to your bed and rest. We shall return to your ministrations tomorrow.”

Azerick forced himself to stand and nodded his agreement. What he saw was so much bigger than himself. It was bigger than his pride, fear, and pain. It was the destruction of everything, and he would not let anything keep him from doing everything in his power to stop it.                           

The next several days were a mash of bad to horrible, but nothing approaching the intensity of Delinda’s death. He even experienced a few pleasures like creating his school and watching Ellyssa develop into a very talented wizard. As angry and frustrating as many of her antics were at the time, he found himself laughing at his recollections.

Finally, after weeks of emotional turmoil, Lissandra called an end at the moment of his death in Sumara. “This is where I must stop.”

Azerick looked at her quizzically. “But there is more. I was in the abyss. I must have memories of that place as well.”

“That is so, and you shall experience those, but not today.” The Guardian stared out at nothing. “Azerick, my time is drawing near, but you must go on. You must continue to fight and grow. You now know much of the source of your strength and perseverance. I have done everything I can to prepare you for what is to come.”

Before Azerick could form any of the dozen questions racing through his mind, Lissandra swept from the room and vanished. Azerick wanted to chase after her, to demand answers to his many questions, but her departure left no doubt as to the finality of the gesture.

Azerick did not see the Guardian again. She did not show for the evening meal, but there was a plate set out for him. He figured he would see her in the morning, but when he woke, he was alone in the room. A slender pillar of stone rose in the center of the chamber the moment his feet touched the floor. Upon it lay the memory crystal.

He crossed the room and lifted the crystal from its pedestal. Azerick jumped in surprise as Lissandra materialized near the column. A second look showed him that she was not truly there, but was a semi-translucent image much like the Scions had been, only normal sized.

“Azerick, if you are seeing me then I am already gone,” the image said. “The crystal holds the last of your memories. They are those I intentionally withheld until now and stored within the crystal for you to discover. Be warned, they are the most dangerous ones you possess. When you use the crystal, those memories will unlock a cage in which your other half has been contained since you left the abyss. That half is enormously powerful and will seek to dominate you. You must apply all your resolve to ensure that does not happen. This is your most dangerous task yet, but the most vital. You will need the strength your other self possesses.”

The image stopped speaking but remained in the room, seemingly waiting. Azerick tried to understand what she meant by his other half, but none of his previous memories gave him a clue as to what it could be. He assumed it must be tied to his being in the abyss and is why Lissandra chose not to restore those memories yesterday.

Azerick considered not using the crystal. He had his magic back and could leave this place. Why risk what the Guardian said was so dangerous? Because he must. He had come to accept what was happening was far bigger and more important than he was. Azerick returned to his bed and pressed the crystal against his forehead.

It hummed against his cool skin a moment before it pulled his consciousness inside its faceted form. Azerick found himself chained to the summoning floor of the Black Tower. He recalled this from his previous recollections, but instead of his previous vague memory of escaping, he felt himself falling.

The scene raced forward as he relived Klaraxis’ possession and his inner battles with the demon lord. He recounted every instance of the demon’s existence and his struggles in maintaining control. Finally, he witnessed his death and return to the abyss. Azerick agonized over his encounter with Krade and the tortured images the devil had shown him. He found himself in his final battle with Drak’kar and the silver light tearing him from the abyssal realm.

Klaraxis felt his black void of a prison disintegrate with the return of Azerick’s memory and ferociously charged forth, clawing at Azerick’s consciousness with every ounce of strength he possessed. Azerick, taken by complete surprise despite Lissandra’s warning, struggled desperately to fight off the demon’s assault. He fought against his rising panic and forced himself to a state of calm.

Klaraxis raged as he brutally lashed at Azerick’s mind. “You cannot imagine the awfulness of the prison I was in, barely cognizant of my own existence! There was nothing, just the black void of a semi-existence!”

Azerick mentally took hold of the demon and simply responded, “No,” and pushed Klaraxis away from him.

Azerick shuddered as he shared Klaraxis’ pervasive fear over his banishment. Whatever prison Azerick’s loss of memory had thrust him into; it upset the demon more than anything he had ever felt from his host before. Azerick tuned out Klaraxis’ furious howling and returned his focus to Lissandra’s image as she spoke once more.

“You should now know who you are in your entirety. I pray you were successful in maintaining control. Your apprentice and the Codex Arcana are now being held in the Office of Inquisition in Argoth. You will need them both in the coming days. There is one more thing I must show you. Please follow me.”

The illusion turned and strode from the room and Azerick dutifully followed. Lissandra came to a brief stop before the solid wall of an unfamiliar room. The stone before her vanished and revealed another large chamber beyond. Azerick assumed it was the Guardian’s personal chambers. The room had a large bed and furnishings typical of any fine home, if a bit austere.

What caught his eye was a large, crystalline egg the size of a keg of beer near the center of the room, and it moved. Azerick watched warily as it twitched and a crack formed along its side.

“I told you that there would be another who would be a great weapon against the Scions, and this is it,” Lissandra explained. “As the elves did in my creation, I took from you your essence and combined it with my own. Here it has been growing for most of the year since I took you from the abyss. It is our son, a creature of human, dragon, elf, and demon spirit. The plurality of its soul and ability to wield the magic of all our races will make him truly formidable.

“It is up to you to ensure he learns not just power, but discipline, sacrifice, and decency. The demonic portion of his soul will encourage him to selfishness and destruction. You must defend him at all costs, even from his own nature. I have named him Raijaun and have spoken it to him frequently so that he will respond to it when he hatches. I have already given the last of myself to the barrier holding the Scions at bay in hopes of granting you the time you need to prepare for their invasion. I can only pray it is enough. Raijaun will grow swiftly, as his demonic nature, as well as that of mine, dictates. Take care of our son, teach him to be a good man, and civilization may have a chance. Goodbye.”

Lissandra’s image vanished, throwing the room into an eerie silence. The quiet was broken a moment later as another crack formed in the amber crystalline cocoon. A spider web of fractures began appearing as the creature inside struggled to break free of its incubatory prison. One final thrust sent shards of crystal skating across the floor as Raijaun exploded from the glassy shell.

Azerick’s son spotted him, hissed loudly, and leapt away, placing the bed between him and his father. Azerick stood in disbelief as the creature emerged and fled from him. His skin was the color of granite, small black horns jutted slightly back from his head, and a pair of leathery blue-black wings sprouted from his back.

Azerick knelt and called out to his son. “Raijaun, it’s all right. Come here.”

Raijaun, crept warily around the side of the bed, peaked around the corner, and narrowed his green-flecked, golden eyes at Azerick. He tilted his head upward and sniffed the air several times. He crept forward as Azerick beckoned and gently called his name. Raijaun lightly touched the tips of Azerick’s extended fingers with his clawed digits. Sensing something, a bond or perhaps just the knowledge this person was not going to harm him, Raijaun leapt into his father’s arms and cooed as he nestled his head against Azerick’s chest.

He certainly looks like his father, one of them anyway. Do you think you can prevent him from acting like me as well?

“You will have nothing to do with any of my children, demon,” Azerick swore. “As I told you before, I will destroy us both before I let that happen.”

And as I told you, we shall see.

Azerick set Raijaun on the edge of the bed, pulled off a small, wool blanket, and created a sling he then draped around his neck. Securing his toddler-sized son within the fold, he stood at the edge of the entrance to Lissandra’s lair and conjured his staff to hand. Azerick gave an ecstatic sigh as he felt the familiar warmth of the artifact in his hand once again.

“Well, Raijaun, we have a great deal to do, so we had best get to it.” Azerick shifted to his demonic form, and stepped out into the void, gliding down into the valley below.

EPILOGUE

The Rook flew through the endless streams of brilliant light, using all of his strength to keep the titanic dimensional forces from tearing apart his non-corporeal form. Time was lost in the ether of this place between worlds as the luminous currents whipped him about like a leaf in a hurricane.

After months, years, maybe even an eternity of being hurled about in this place, the assassin spotted an anomaly. It was a pinpoint of pure white light, unmarred by the silver flows shimmering with a rainbow sheen. The Rook willed himself towards the speck and watched it grow as he fought against the powerful currents of the intradimensional universe.

The point grew to become a portal, and the closer the Rook got, the harder the current tried to pull him away. The Rook fought against the awesome tidal forces working against him, a cry of effort born of rage and denial tearing soundlessly from his throat. He finally gained the portal, now shining so brightly it pained his eyes, grabbed the edges, and pulled himself through with a final, monumental effort of will.

Intense light flooded his entire existence, setting his very soul aflame. The Rook screeched in agony beyond anything imaginable as the light rapidly sought to destroy him. A short ways away, the orange flickering of a campfire and the dark silhouettes of two men pierced the overwhelming brilliance.

The Rook streaked toward the men, picked one at random, and thrust his ethereal blade into his unsuspecting body. The assassin poured his essence into the man, found his spirit, and engaged it in a battle for existence.

Birkar felt the foreign entity invade his mind and dropped to the snowy ground, writhing as the creature slashed mercilessly at his soul. His last thought was feeling something frigid pierce his consciousness before it devoured him.