The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) (45 page)

“Your father has returned and taken to the field.”

“So I saw.”

“Your plan to destroy the gates failed. You failed…again.”

Daebian felt a giant hand crush him to the deck of the ship. His skin burned as if a red-hot iron branded his flesh in a dozen different places. He forced himself not to give into his urge and grab at his sword. If Zyn discovered what he hid within the soulblade, he would kill him without hesitation. He wasn’t certain the Scion was not going to do that now.

“M-master, the rift allowing them to escape your wrath could not have been my father’s construction.”

“It was not. It would appear as though an old acquaintance has sought to turn against us. He will be punished in due time. That does not change the fact that both cities managed to evacuate their wretched populations. You said your plan would destroy the gates. They did not.”

“My plan did work! The destruction of the two gates at Brelland would have been disastrous for our enemy there had the rift not appeared. Brightridge’s people got away because they were warned, and your creatures did not move swiftly enough. I cannot be held responsible for their failure.”

“You will be held responsible for whatever I deem you responsible for! However, I still find you useful, so I will spare your life once again.”
Daebian felt the pressure bearing down on him vanish but the agony remained.
“We know where your father and the bulk of the vile races are now. He does us a favor by not forcing us to ferret them out of every dank hole into which they might crawl to find refuge. He has made the purge much easier for us in his pathetic attempt at defense. He will seek to draw us into this world in hopes of taking the battle to us just as the Guardians and the elven wizards did in the past. When he does, you will kill him, and we shall both have what we most desire.”

“Your will be done, master. I exist only to serve you.”

“You speak the truest thing you have ever uttered in your life despite whether or not you truly believe it.”

The world returned to life and assaulted his senses with the feel, sound, and smells that had vanished with the Scion’s presence. A gust of wind slapped at his face and a hand touched him lightly on the shoulder.”

“He was here again wasn’t he?” Eva asked.

Daebian nodded.

Eva shivered and hugged him from behind. “I can feel it. It’s like I jumped into an icy lake. Was he angry again?”

“He was not pleased they had escaped the city. That’s what he said, but I think they are enjoying the hunt. A dog finds more joy in chasing a rabbit than it does actually catching it. I doubt they are any better.”

“Daebian, are we doing the right thing? Can we really turn against our own kind like this?”

“Would you rather join them? Do you think the outcome would change if we fought with them?”

“I suppose not.”

“The only way to win is to survive, and there is nothing but death down there.”

Eva nodded and wiped a tear from her eye as the ship carried them to the only true resistance the races could muster. Once they were destroyed, there was nothing to stop them.

***

Seeing the entire human army deployed onto the battlefield was an impressive sight to behold. Two hundred-fifty thousand infantry nearly stretched across the entire width of the valley in perfectly square formations of five thousand men each. Their cavalry numbered almost one hundred thousand and was divided into north flanking, center, and south flanking units.

Five hundred of Azerick’s constructs created the bulwark of their frontline to blunt what was sure to be a powerful initial charge. A reserve force numbering half the size of the fielded army stood at the ready to relieve their fellows when they became too fatigued to fight. In most normal battles, armies tended not to fight after darkness, but the Scions and their ravagers would certainly not relent until they crushed their foes. This made the role of the reserve units vital in sustaining the humans’ ability to continue the battle.

Even with such a vast army of horses, swords, spears, and heavy siege weapons, the primary purpose of the men and women placing themselves in the path of death was not to kill but to stop the ravager advance. The true task of slaughtering their enemy was left to the corps of wizards whose arcane power could smite the legions of ravagers by the hundreds or even thousands. The soldiers were the shields, the wizards the swords, but all would spill more blood than the waters of a spring snow melt before the war was over.

All eyes stared intently westward at the dark shapes circling and streaking across the sky. Those with spyglasses could make out the sleek, flying ships gliding toward them, heralding the impending arrival of the greatest threat to humanity and the races since the near-genocidal conclusion of the Great Revolution. Even the last of the refugees fleeing for the caverns cast fearful glances over their shoulders as they struggled to hasten their pace. These were the infirm and those too injured to evacuate until there was simply no more time to give them to recover.

Jarvin, his key leaders, and advisors crowded the war room. The King and his military commanders bent over the map tacked down to the large table and moved the brass and tin figures placed upon it as their scouts arrived with updated reports. Azerick was absent, but Raijaun towered over everyone in the room and stood beside Aggie and Headmaster Florent to advise Jarvin of arcane matters.

“Sire, our most recent scout reports put the main body perhaps seven hours from our forward lines, but it is getting increasingly more difficult for our scouts to reach us. The dragons are flying ahead and often pick them off. We received our latest reports only by sending ten riders through the forest to the south. Only three managed to deliver their missives.”

Jarvin made a rumbling in throat and nodded. “At this point, it hardly matters. Order our scouts back to within a mile of our forward-most troops. I’ll not throw away their lives for reports we can do little with.” He turned to the three magic users. “Is there anything to add in regards to our magical preparedness?”

Raijaun spoke. “Our wizards and Sumara’s mages and handful of sorcerers are in place with two groups of reserves ready to lend additional support and defenses. Thanks to the Source pool, our construct operators are able to control them from upwards of a mile away now instead of the few hundred yards of their previous limitations.”

“A good thing too,” Headmaster Florent chimed in. “I was very concerned with our younger and less talented mages being so close to the frontlines, and I am sure Raijaun’s people were as well.”

Raijaun nodded. “It was indeed a point of significant worry. It would have been far too easy for them to get absorbed into the press of battle if our frontlines buckled by even a moderate measure.”

“Can these iron men truly stem the tide bearing down upon us?”

“No, but such is not their purpose. The ravagers are simply too numerous, but they can break up the horde into many smaller fronts and bleed much of the inertia off before hitting our shield wall. Without them, the ravagers could cut much deeper into our forward ranks and possibly dismantle our army piecemeal if our mages are not able to do enough damage to break them apart.”

“I just wish I had ten thousand more of them. Has Azerick been able to contact anyone from the other races?”

“He was able to speak to Duncan Runecarver last night. The dwarves are in place and ready to strike, but because their numbers are significantly less than ours, they are going to lay in ambush and strike at our enemy’s northern flank at the optimal time. They fear exposing themselves to soon and risk being overwhelmed.”

“It doesn’t give us much information to work with, but at least it’s something. What of the elves?”

“Father was unable to contact the northern elves. His attempt to speak with the abyssal elf representative was blocked by magic he could not penetrate.”

“I don’t know much about either kind and will assume they have chosen to hide—.”

A soldier in riding leathers burst through the hall door cutting off Jarvin’s words. The scout fought to gain his breath as he tried to overcome the obvious exhaustion of a brutal ride.

Still breathing hard, the scout slapped a fist to his chest in salute. “Sire, I have news of happenings to the southeast.”

“Relax, soldier. What is your report?”

“Our scouts spotted a large number of brutes, mostly goblins, lurking a few hours ride from here.”

Several vile oaths from around the room responded to the report.

“How many do we estimate?”

“Our scouts spotted no more than a few score, but tracks and signs of recent activity indicate there could be a substantial number. Hundreds, possibly a few thousand given some of the abandoned campsites we found.”

“Did any engage you?”

“No, sire. Despite catching our first scouts by surprise and significantly outnumbering them, they hastened into rougher territory before we could receive reinforcements and pursue. The commander of our company chose not to continue the pursuit into the rough terrain fearing ambush by a potentially larger force.”

“It could be just a band of scavengers and opportunists,” General Brague suggested.

“Likely, but it could be a war band sent by the Scions to strike at our rear. Headmaster, is there a way you or our wizards can spy them out with magic?”

“Aggie has the best scrying ability I know of.”

The venerable archmage located a small, round mirror hanging near the center of the hall. “I can give it a try.”

Aggie focused her magical power upon the mirror and willed it to show her what her eyes could not see. Not knowing exactly what and where she needed to see, the magus summoned an image of their own camp as if seen through the eyes of a high-flying eagle. Aggie willed her “magical bird” to fly to the southeast far faster than even the swiftest of raptors could possibly go. Within minutes, she spotted the human company arrayed behind hastily constructed defenses. Following the soldiers’ eyes, she quickly located several scouts hidden in the dense brush a mile farther on. She continued to track south and east into the nearly impassable terrain near the Forsaken Lands, but as her eyes flew over that wilderness, her vision began to blur and grey as if delving into a dense fog. Just a mile into the hinterland, she could see nothing but a grey miasma.

“I cannot see them. My scrying is being actively blocked. Whoever is hiding in the backcountry does not wish to be seen.”

“Who could be strong enough to block your scrying other than the Scions?” Maureen asked.

“The magic had a definite shamanic origin.”

“A savage shaman’s magic is stronger than your?” Jarvin asked in disbelief.

“Shamanic magic can be quite formidable, particularly when worked in concert with other shamans. I am guessing there are several shamans working together to prevent anyone from discovering them or their numbers.”

“Wretched beasts!” Jarvin shouted. “As if I do not have enough to deal with. General Haskins, order two thousand reserves to aid the scouting company. Headmaster, can we afford to detach some of your wizards to support them?”

“Honestly, no, but I see little other choice. I will have six of our war mages accompany the soldiers. They are not far from our camp, and we can send additional reinforcements should it prove necessary.”

“Let us pray it does not.” The King slammed a fist against the table. “Where in the six circles of the abyss is Azerick?”

***

Azerick sat on a stump in a small clearing several miles from the noisy, reeking camp. He sought some solitude and peace, but mostly he sought forgiveness.

“I heard what you did. I am very proud of you.” Sandy grunted in response. “I hope you understand why I did it even if you cannot forgive me for it.”

“I met someone after I left. Another dragon.”

Azerick raised an eyebrow. “Male?” Sandy nodded. “Do you care for him?”

“Very much, but like a grandfather. Even though we only got to spend a few days together, he taught me so much. I think it was because of the link through our blood. I understood what he was teaching me even when he did not speak. I seemed to learn just by being near him. It was different than my egg memories, but also similar.”

“I am glad you were able to find someone to help you. I wish I could have done more or something different, but I did not know how, and I was very pressed for time.”

“I know. Mordigar helped me understand what you did and to look within myself to find my identity and not just the surface.”

“He sounds very wise.”

“He is, and he wants me to kill him. He was powerful enough to resist their call from within the barrier, but he said he would lose control once they broke free. He told me we would be enemies once the war truly began and we would fight. Even if I could somehow defeat him, how can I hurt someone I love?”

“Because you must,” Azerick answered softly and stroked her scales. “Because Mordigar loves you more than himself, just as I do. It is why I have done things I am not proud of. It is why I chose to mar your scales knowing it would pain you and possibly take you from me forever. Like me, he wants you to survive and will pay any price to ensure you do. Sandy, I want you to survive this war. Even if we lose, I am confident you can go on despite not being under the Scions’ control if you do not draw attention to yourself. I do not want you to throw away your life by fighting to the death. If all seems lost, I want you to fly as far away as you can.”

“What about you?”

“I have been lost for a long time. The races will fight to the last because the Scions will not give us any other choice. We will win, or the Scions will choose how and when the war ends. We have no choice, but you do.”

“I choose to fight! You are my family, and I will defend you.”

“Of course you will, but when there is no one left to defend, you must fly away.”

“You sound as though you expect to lose.”