The Sorcerer's Ascension (7 page)

The magistrate fell asleep in his coach almost immediately, and by the time he woke it was morning again. The city of Southport lay nearly a hundred miles behind him. The trip took several uncomfortable days before he reached the gates of the grand city of Brelland.

Lord Crassus went straight to his home, took a long hot bath, dressed in his court clothes, and went to inform King Jarvin Ollandar everything he had learned, or had not learned. His manor house was thankfully close to the castle and was shortly waiting for his liege in the King’s audience chamber. He started to kneel as King Jarvin Ollandar strode into the chamber.

“Please stand, Lord Crassus, it is only us today,” King Jarvin insisted.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I have returned from Southport with as much information as I could gather, which unfortunately is very little,” the magistrate explained. "The ship was carrying the artifact as was suspected, was intercepted by your own blackguard, and the captain detained as ordered. He was kept in solitary confinement, allowed no visitors, and two guards were always posted on the outer door. However, when I arrived, the prisoner had been recently murdered by either an assassin with the assistance of a wizard or a knife-wielding wizard working alone.”

“A wizard you say, why say a wizard?” the King asked.

“The stone around the doorframe was melted away as if it were made of wax. The man was suspended face down from the roof, his hands and feet completely encased in the stone as if the stone had been molded and baked like clay around them.”

“This is very disturbing, Lord Crassus, very disturbing indeed. By law, if one of the nobles were to acquire an ancient relic of power, they could start a new royal bloodline once mine is wiped out by claiming divine providence,” King Jarvin exclaimed.

“You know that I am aware of that, Your Majesty. I am doing everything in my power to find out who is behind this.”

“Half the nobles in my kingdom are likely behind this or at least support it. If it were not for the favor of the commoners and the fear of rebellion, they would likely have forgone such trouble and had my head mounted on the walls already.”

“Have your guard brought the artifact to you yet?” The magistrate asked.

The weary king shook his head ruefully. “No, and they should have returned with it days ago. I fear it may be lost again and in the hands of my enemies. As morbid as it sounds, I hope my blackguards were waylaid and killed. I shudder at the thought of being betrayed by those most sworn to me.”

The magistrate agreed. “All of that trouble, the ship captain—probably an innocent man from everything that I have heard—dead, and we do not even possess that which men have died for. It is very distressing, Your Majesty, very distressing indeed.”

Jarvin stared intently at his chief magistrate with his penetrating gaze. “I want you to assemble a team of my own special guard that are proven loyal, and send them out on expeditions to locate these artifacts before my enemies do, and I want them sent immediately.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” Crassus replied with a quick bow from the waist.

*****

"Alton, what is the status on the recovery of my missing artifact?" Duke Ulric inquired of his chamberlain.

"Your Grace, I just received a missive from General Baneford. He reports that his mission was successful though the cost in the lives of his men was quite high. He is waiting for further instruction at the prearranged location.”

“The cost is of no concern, that is what the general and his men are paid to do,” the duke replied without remorse or compassion. “I will write the general myself.

*****

General Baneford was inspecting his men’s equipment at the camp they set up in the woods away from any of the main trade roads when his rider returned with Duke Ulric’s response. He took the missive inside his command tent before breaking the unmarked seal and reading its contents.

He examined the parchment with interest. Crushed grains of crystal glittered in the reflected light of the brazier like thousands of tiny stars. The general knew that the granulated crystals were part of a magical spell that had been cast upon the sheets that would cause them to burst into flame at the touch of anyone other than the intended recipient. Even with that precaution, the duke avoided using names or specifically referencing the artifacts.

General,

Congratulations upon the success of your mission. Continue to search for information in regards to that which I seek. I understand that it is likely to take some time to recover the scattered pieces, but do not delay or slacken in your efforts to retrieve them. You may use the pieces that you recover to further aid you in the recovery of the rest. It would not due to have one of the King’s agents find any such items anywhere near my person until it is whole and I make my final move. I currently have other sources scouring archives across the kingdom and beyond and will send you any information that I believe will aid in your duty to locate what I seek. I trust in your loyalty, discretion, and competence. Do not disappoint me.

General Baneford dropped the message into the brazier’s flames and stirred the ashes once it had burned. Now his mission had turned into a scavenger hunt with little information to help guide him towards the target of his quest. Such missions suffering from an acute lack of intelligence rarely ended well for the men charged with their success. However, he would do his best, he always had. It was how he attained the vaulted position he now held.

*****

In the weeks and months that followed the death of Azerick’s father and subsequent eviction, his mother waited tables, took in laundry, and performed any menial task she could. She would do whatever it took to care for her son, the only family she had left.

When Azerick was not reading, he was running with other children in the streets where he quickly learned how to pilfer quick bites of food that he then took home to share with his mother. She would protest and beg him not to steal. It was not their way, she would say, and if he were ever caught, he would be in serious trouble.

The streets were his life now and the street children his friends. Not friends precisely, more like cohorts or partners in crime. Azerick did not keep friends much beyond the necessity of the petty thefts that helped him and his mother survive.

He was clever and educated, and quickly took up something of a leadership role scouting targets and devising clever distractions to maximize the haul and minimizing the risk of being caught.

Although his mother worked hard, times were tough for them and she was not paid much. What little she made was just barely enough to pay for their room and buy clothes. Or so he thought. The fat innkeeper charged his mother an unreasonable fee and took part of her earnings to pay for things like broken mugs, plates, and the food she and Azerick ate at the inn.

What Azerick did not know was that sometimes she did not make enough working to ensure that there was enough to eat and make the room payment. She had sold what little jewelry she had on her when they were evicted, and when this money ran out she had to offer another sort of compensation to the innkeeper, though not often and only under the most dire of circumstances. Each time she did, Celeste died just a little bit inside. Azerick saw the changes in his mother but thought it was only grief and sorrow. He could never have guessed the truth, and she would die before telling him.

The day was overcast; a rather typical day in the coastal city, and Azerick was scouting out the crowds and tables in one of the market corners when he spied a familiar face.

“Master Ewen!” Azerick yelled and raced across the square waving, all thoughts of the days foraging forgotten. “Master Ewen, I thought I’d never see you again. Where have you been? Why didn’t you come for us? I thought we were your friends? More than friends, my father called you brother, I know, I heard him say it many times,” Azerick demanded, barely able to keep his voice from cracking.

Old Ewen glanced quickly left then right before fixing his former protégé with a hard look. “Quick, run over to that alley and wait for me. No questions now go!” Ewen whispered harshly. “Get away from me you little sneak thief!” He yelled at Azerick’s back as the boy ran to do what he was told.

Ewen wandered around the trade booths for a few minutes before slowly making his way towards the mouth of the alley to which he had ushered Azerick off. He looked briefly over his shoulder then quickly ducked inside.

Two buildings three stories tall formed the alley, its brick and stucco walls casting the narrow passage in a perpetual gloom. Trash heaps were piled along its entire length. A stray dog was picking through one pile while a cat chased a rat out of another. About a third of the way down its murky length, Azerick waited partially hidden in the deeper shadows against one wall.

Ewen walked down the filth-strewn alley and let out a loud sigh as he looked down at his former pupil.

“What’s going on? Why do we have to stand in this waste-soaked alley to talk?” Azerick asked before his old instructor, his friend.

“Listen, boy, I’m sorry it has to be like this, but you don’t understand what’s going on. Quite frankly, I don’t know either. Please believe me that I tried to find out. I would’a taken in both you and your mother in an instant I’m sure ya know. I went to the constable and demanded to know what was
goin
’ on. He told me I’d best mind my own business if I knew what was good for me. Well if I always done what was good for me instead of what I knew was right, I wouldn’t be worth a damn. You remember that, boy, by your father’s honor, and you remember that real good.”

Ewen paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I know damn good and well your father ain’t no traitor to the crown. Fact is he was more loyal to the bastard king than most these high snobby nobles ever were. So I started askin’ around, mostly around the docks where me and your father are well known, where I knew I could trust some folks. Many people are mighty upset over what happened. He was taken by the King’s Blackguard after they found some things on his ship and stuck in one of the local jails. They had sent off for an official questioner from the King’s court. Next thing you know, he’s found guilty of high treason and—and was gone.

“When the King’s man arrived he wasn’t too happy about the Duke’s prisoner being killed before he could question him. Apparently, word got back to someone that I was askin questions cause next thing you know I’m dragged off to the castle and thrown in a cell. Some
muckity
muck official and about half a dozen guards came to see me a couple days later, askin’ me if I was in league with your father and told me I shouldn’t get myself worked up over a traitor or his family, plus a few other less than respectful things about your father. Well this got me pretty riled up I can tell ya, and quick as a wink I snatched one of those truncheons off one of those lazy-eyed guards. I bet they didn’t expect an old man to have that much gumption or move that quick.” Ewen let out a short bark of laughter at the memory then continued.

“I took that club and bopped that smart court sissy right upside his powdered face. This woke them guards up pretty quick and they came at me, but I was ready for em. I surprised em again by chargin’ right into the mess of them and we went at it for a bit. I gave em hell pretty good, but there were a lot more of them than me and I fell to their numbers in pretty short order, but I bet at least two of em didn’t feel like
comin
’ to work the next day! Well that official was screeching like a cat caught in a mousetrap as the guards worked me over real good.

“They left me in that cell a few more days then they came back. Different guards, a couple of them were any way, and the same official. He had a nice shiner still, I can tell ya. He said to me that if I so much as spoke the name of your father or had anything to do with you or your mother, I’d hang for treason or at least conspiracy. My wife, kids, and grandkids would be out in the street just like they’d done to you,” he said, his voice dropping off in to a remorseful tear choked whisper.

“I’m sorry, boy. I’d do anything, give anything for you and your mother, I hope you know. If it were just me, I’d say to hell with the Duke, his slimy official, and his threats and I’d do as right as I could. But I can’t risk my family. Their lives don’t belong to me to put in that kind of jeopardy. I hope you understand, son. Please tell me you do.”