The Sorcerer's Ascension (55 page)

"Aegar, what do you make of it?" Jarvin asked as he handed the trident to the learned wizard.

"On first glance I would say it could do all that and likely a great deal more, unfortunately it is utterly worthless."

“Worthless, how can it be worthless? We risked our necks to get that blasted giant fish fork and you tell me it's useless?" Borik angrily demanded.

"Yes, you see it can only be used under the ocean and likely only by an aquatic species. So as for our purposes, it is useless," the wizard responded.

"It is still very pretty," Tarth said encouragingly with his vacuous gaze wanting to help.

"Pretty! I'll give you a pretty swift kick in the arse with my boot, you waterlogged elf! I got eaten by a shark for that damn thing!"

"Be quiet, Borik, and leave Tarth alone!" ordered Maude, grabbing the dwarf by the collar of his breastplate.

The dwarf was in mid kick and fell back on his backside due to the sudden impediment of Maude's hold on his collar. Tarth stuck his tongue out at the dwarf who promptly pushed his jowls forward with his hands making his face wrinkle up like an old bulbous-nosed prune. Tarth squealed in fright, pulled his tongue back in, and smoothing his face with his hands.

"It is still an ancient artifact and impressive to behold. It will make a fine display of our king's power I think. However, I fear that this does not release you from your contract," Bishop Caalendor advised the group.

"Of course not," Borik muttered, distracted now from his taunting of the vain elf.

"Rest up, enjoy a plentitude of fine food and accommodations for a time. You have all earned it. My people will find a place for you within the castle as my guests. I will send you off again once we find another trail for you to follow."

With that said, the King dismissed his motley hire swords and took his leave.

"Well, at least we are being taken care of with good food and shelter," Malek said as they walked down the long stone hall to their rooms.

"Oh sure, we can make a sign next time we need work, 'will adventure for food' it will say. Be a laughingstock that's what we'll be," the dwarf grumbled.

He kept on mumbling about stupid dwarf-eating sharks, stupid rashes, stupid elves, and stupid tridents until they entered their rooms that had several plates of food under silver-domed serving platters and large mugs of ale, mead, and wine.

"There, you see, Borik, there are worse things in life," Malek said helpfully as he looked at the feast prepared for them.

"Yeah, and I bet you my mother’s dowry we'll find em soon enough," the dwarf shot back as he dug into the proffered food and ale with enthusiasm.

CHAPTER
18

Azerick fell from the bed gasping and filling his lungs with precious oxygen. The large, black spots that had filled his vision slowly dispersed and he looked around the room. He was still in the infirmary and still in his bed, or next to it rather. He looked towards the window and saw that the sun had not moved much since Magus Allister’s visit. He climbed back into bed and thought about his strange dream. Was it a dream or was it a vision?

At first, he thought that the voice was the one claiming to be the goddess, Sharrellan, but it did not hold the same sort of malice and underlying malevolence. Was it the Source that spoke to him? Why would, what was supposed to be, an inanimate source of power and creation speak to him? Did it speak to all wizards eventually? Did it mean that whatever was blocking him from accessing higher magic was gone now?

He did not know and fell back to sleep while pondering the meaning of whatever it was. Azerick just hoped that this time there would be no new voices. It was getting rather crowded inside his head as it was.

His sleep was pleasant and undisturbed this time. He woke the next morning shortly after sunrise. An attendant brought him some milk and oatmeal with honey to break his fast. He ate ravenously and felt some strength flow back into his body. Magus Morgarum waddled in shortly after Azerick’s second helping of oatmeal. He had even managed to talk the attendant into getting him a honey cake and was licking the sticky remnants of the treat off his fingers when the Alchemic instructor came to check on him.

“How are you feeling this morning, my boy?” the friendly Magus asked.

“I feel better, great actually, better than ever,” Azerick replied enthusiastically.

“Good, good; that was a very close call you know, for everyone. Most mages that channel power that far beyond their skill are not so lucky.”

“I’m really sorry, Magus, I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. I will have to let the Headmaster know that you are awake and feeling well. He wants to have a word with you, as you may expect.”

“I figured he would,” Azerick said dejectedly with a slump of his shoulders.

“I’m sure everything will turn out just fine. If it means anything to you, you have my support and I will recommend that you stay here at the Academy. You are one of my best pupils you know.”

‘Thank you, Magus Morgarum, I appreciate it.”

“Not at all, Azerick. Your clothes are over in that closet, best get dressed while I go talk to the headman, um, Headmaster that is,” he said with a wink.

Azerick found his clothes in the small wardrobe next to his bed. He had just finished dressing when Rusty came running into the ward.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Rusty said and punched Azerick in the shoulder.

“Yeah well, I figured I couldn’t hide out here forever.”

“That was quite a performance you put on. It’s been pretty nice in class without Travis.”

“He’ll be back pretty soon, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, too bad you didn’t nail him with that lightning bolt. That was incredible; I never saw anyone less than a journeyman cast a lightning bolt before. It made my hair stand up.”

“Yeah but it almost killed me, you dummy, so don’t expect a repeat performance for a while. Here comes Magus Allister. I have to go, we’ll talk later.”

“Ok, good luck, Azerick.”

Azerick followed Magus Allister out of the infirmary and up the stairs of the Headmaster’s tower. He stepped through the door that the old mage opened for him and walked into the large office with which he was immanently familiar. The room was full of people. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, Magus Allister took a seat to his right, and Magus Florent sat to his left. Next to Magus Florent sat Magus Morgarum, next to Magus Allister sat Magus Bauer and no one was smiling.

“Please take a seat, young man,” Headmaster Dondrian instructed, gesturing to the wooden chair in the center of the room. “I trust you know why you are here?”

“Yes, Headmaster, because of the accident in class,” Azerick replied nervously.

“Accident! You nearly killed four students,” Magus Bauer waspishly accused.

“Emily, please, we are here to find out what happened and what to do about it. Let us not jump to judgment to quickly,” Magus Allister politely chastised the sour mage.

Magus Bauer sniffed loudly and turned her head.

“Now, Azerick, we know what happened. What I want you to do is tell us what was going through your mind at the time. Did you see or feel anything strange just before it happened?”

“Travis was saying some really horrible things about my mother and I got angry, really angry. Suddenly I could not see anything except red. I felt something though, now that I think about it. It was strange, kind of like the feeling I get when I cast a spell except that I did not have any reagents in my hand. I would not know how cast that spell even if I wanted to. I do not even know what reagents to use and I have never even seen the somatic component in any spell book available to me. I felt the magic and made it do what I wanted.”

“Azerick, have you ever performed any magic without spell components before or used magic without knowing it?” Magus Allister asked.

“I don’t think so, Magus, not that I know of.”

“Do you know what a magical ward is?” he asked.

“It’s a magical protection, usually a trap or alarm,” Azerick answered.

“Correct, and as you know, it is a spell and the only way you can get past a ward, with few exceptions, is with magic. Have you ever encountered a ward before?”

What is he doing? Is he trying to get me in even more trouble?

“Yes, sir, twice that I am aware of,” he answered, figuring honesty is the best thing right now.

“Will you tell us about those incidents please?” the old magus requested.

“The first time was almost three years ago. I found a warded jewelry box,” Azerick responded, thinking back to that night.

Magus Bauer interrupted with a snort. “Found in someone else’s possession I would wager. The boy obviously has a history of criminal behavior and for that reason alone should be removed from our prestigious institution and jailed.”

Allister ignored her with a sidelong glance and continued his questioning. “How did you know it was warded?"

“I was just about to open it when I felt a strange energy emanating from it. I studied it with my eyes closed and I could see and feel the energy surrounding the box. It felt dark and angry like it was just waiting to release its power onto someone.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I studied the way it was made, how the different strands of energy were sort of woven together to form the ward and I just kind of unraveled them.”

His pronouncement started a couple of the wizards sitting in attendance muttering amongst themselves, surprised to hear such a statement from someone so young and inexperienced.

Magus Allister continued with his line of questioning. “And when was the next time you encountered a ward?”

This was the question that Azerick was most worried about answering. The old wizard already knew what he had done but he did not know how the rest of the mages would react on finding out about his invading the Academy several months ago.

“It was on the door to your room, sir. I undid that ward just as I did the other one a couple years ago. It was a little harder but not as scary or evil-feeling as the other one,” Azerick answered, waiting for the backlash.

The wizards all started talking at once, each one trying to raise his or her voice over the other. The meeting or trial, whatever it was broke down into a verbal tumult. The Headmaster banged a small stone statue on his desktop and called for order.

“That is quite an impressive feat for one so young and with absolutely no training at the time. Your studies must be going very well then having such a natural affinity for magic,” Magus Allister continued.

“No, sir, actually I have been having a hard time with my casting and learning anything more than the most basic spells.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure. The lessons just don't make sense to me, it doesn’t feel right," the magic student answered, frustrated that he could not explain it better.

The old mage stood up and walked over to Azerick, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“It seems we have done young Azerick a great disservice in more than one way. It is now clear that he is not responsible for what happened in that classroom or to those students that were injured,” Magus Allister said, eliciting cries of shock and surprise from his fellow wizards.

“Then who is responsible for it?” Magus Bauer demanded.

“You are! You all are!” came a shout from the far corner of the room.

A fit, middle-aged man stepped out from the shadowed corner of the room. He was tall, well over six feet and broad shouldered. He sported a sharply trimmed goatee turning grey at the sides of his chin. His eyes were dark brown bordering on black. He wore black pants, white shirt with ornate lace cuffs, a red vest made from the skin of some scaled creature, and a voluminous black cloak with a red silk lining. Mystic symbols and sigils sewn into the cloak with purple silk shimmered with obvious power. Azerick guessed him to be in his late forties.