The Sorcerer's Return (The Sorcerer's Path) (22 page)

Azerick returned home physically and mentally exhausted. His theatrical assault upon The Academy had taken a toll on him and he needed to rest.
It was a rare occasion he expended so much energy that he felt the need to rest, but when he walked into his bedroom, he knew right away he was not going to get it. The look upon Miranda’s face clearly hinted he would not enjoy this conversation.

“How did it go at The Academy?” she asked.

“Not as well as I had hoped and about as poorly as I expected.”

“No one was hurt?”

“No, there was no violence.”

Miranda took a deep breath to steady herself. “You promised to spend more time with Daebian.”

“I did and I am sorry, but there has been too much to do. This confrontation with The Academy was too important to put off.”

“There is always something to do!” Miranda exclaimed in frustration. “What good is winning this war if you abandon your family in the process?”

“I am not abandoning my family. I am trying to ensure there is a world left for our family, ours and everyone else’s! This is about more than any individual, but you, like everyone else, refuse to understand that.”

“I understand you spend a lot of time with Raijaun! Why can’t you spend some of that time with Daebian?”

“When was the last time you spoke to Raijaun? Did you ever go into the city like you said?”

“He pushed my son down the stairs and broke his arm! He could have been killed, so I am sorry if I needed some time to get past that little fact.”

“Is it a fact?” Azerick asked. “Would you be so quick to condemn Raijaun if he looked different?”

“What are you saying
, that Daebian threw himself down the steps himself? What kind of person would do that?”

“What kind indeed.”

Miranda took a deep breath and fought to regain a sensible tone. “Maybe it was an accident. Maybe Daebian mistook Raijaun’s attempt to catch him as a push. I am doing the best I can, given the fact I am in a marital and parental situation unlike any in the entire world. Why do you spend all of your time with Raijaun and none with Daebian? Maybe it is you who has a problem with their looks.”

“I need Raijaun to help me with many of my projects,” Azerick defended.

“Why not let Daebian help you as well?”

“Because Daebian is useless!” Azerick shouted.

Miranda’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped and took a step away. Tears flooded her eyes as she looked at Azerick and shook her head.

“How can you say that about your son? Daebian is the most brilliant boy I have ever seen. He is not useless!”

Azerick stood mouth agape at the shock of what he just heard himself say. “Miranda, I did not mean it like that…”

Daebian heard all he needed to hear. He
knew his father detested him and looked down on him for his inability to use magic, but hearing him admit it struck him a harder blow than he had anticipated. He could never learn to use magic, but there were other sources of power out there, and he knew where to find one of them.

“…Daebian is extraordinarily bright and a master of just about anything he puts his mind to. I am proud of his abilities beyond words, but the things I do he simply cannot help with. It does not mean I think any less of him than Raijaun, just that his skills are not what I need to accomplish my tasks.”

“I am just asking for a little time, Azerick. Show him you care about the things he can do and enjoys.”

Azerick nodded and embraced his wife. “
All right, I will make time. I will go and watch him practice tomorrow and take the time to do so a few times a week. It has been a while since I practiced my staff work, maybe we can do a little sparring.”

Miranda returned Azerick’s embrace and wiped her tears on his robe. “That is all I ask. Thank you.”

Klaraxis chortled as he took pleasure in his accomplishment. It had been so easy to tweak the human’s pathetic emotions and twist his words. He felt the boy’s presence outside the room and leapt at the opportunity to take advantage. It had been perfect. The rift between father and son was now great, and Klaraxis would ensure nothing could ever bridge the span. Daebian was in his grasp, and he would never let him go.

Unlike most nights, Daebian was eager to speak with Klaraxis in his dreams.
Daebian laid his head down on to his pillow and willed himself to sleep. He tossed and turned until he finally surrendered and let his body take control of the endeavor. Once he allowed his body to relax, Daebian slept and found himself alone upon a barren sea of stone and sand. He first thought he was somewhere in the deserts of Sumara, but the sand and rock was the wrong color. It was more red than orange. That was when he realized this must be Klaraxis’ abyssal realm.

You recognize your home.

“It is your home, not mine, demon.”

You are mine, and as mine, this is yours. You are the son of the lord of this realm. It is your inheritance.

“One day, perhaps, but not any time soon. I have decided.”

I know.

“How do I get my Father’s blood?”

Carefully. If he thinks for a moment you are purposefully taking his blood, it could upset everything. He could question me
, and I would be powerless to withhold my knowledge for long. You are clever. You will know your moment when it presents itself.

“What happens when I get his blood?”

The stone will do everything. I will urge a tiny portion of my essence into the blood. The stone will absorb it and me into itself. We will them be able to link through the stone.

“And I will have your power?”

Klaraxis laughed.
Not by even the smallest of fractions. You will possess a sliver of my being and therefore a sliver of my power. However, that sliver is a seedling and, with the right care, can grow into a plant that will bear fruit. I will be able to then transfer a portion of my power through you in a variety of ways. I can make you faster, stronger, and give you other abilities beyond that of these pathetic mortals.

“You said I could be like a god.”

One day perhaps. A sapling must grow before it can be a mighty tree, towering above the pathetic creatures scurrying about in the dirt.

Daebian liked the sound of that. One day, he would be a towering figure, looking down on the world. The lesser creatures would kneel before him, seeking refuge beneath his powerful boughs and playing homage to his greatness.
He would give life in his beneficence or take it away as his desires demanded.

Daebian woke the next morning, strapped on his dagger, and
sought out the dining room feeling much better than he had last night. His timing was perfect as always, arriving just as the cooks served the morning meal because he detested waiting on anyone for anything.

“Good morning, darling,” Miranda welcomed as he practically skipped into the room. “Will you be sparring today?”

“Good morning, Mother. Probably. I have been training for a few days without a problem, and it’s not as though I had broken my sword arm.”

“I have a surprise for you. Your father is going to come watch you. I have been telling him how good you are and he is eager to see you.”

Just as Klaraxis had said, an opportunity arose and Daebian’s swift mind instantly formulated a plan. “Wonderful, I am eager to see him there as well. I had best choose a challenging opponent.”

The martial students started their day early and Daebian had to hurry to avoid being late. Today was a sparring and tactics day, which meant they spent only the first hour of the morning enduring brutal calisthenics and strength building exercises.
Daebian sought out Alex while everyone was suiting up for sparring practice.

“Weapons Master, my father is coming to observe my training. I would like to wait until he arrives to start my bout.”

“All right. Have you chosen an opponent?”

“Yes, Sir. Brent.”

Alex considered Daebian’s choice. “Brent is in a higher level than you and quite a bit bigger. Are you sure you want him as your opponent?”

Daebian
nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir! I have been practicing a lot, and you know no one my size is much of a challenge. Even if I lose, I think I can make a very good showing of it. I want to be able to show Father my best.”

“All right. I know Azerick is busy, so queue up and we’ll start your match as soon as he arrives.”

The matches had been going on for forty-five minutes, and Daebian had begun to think his father was not coming when Azerick finally took a seat next to Miranda on the wooden bleachers set up for the other students and the occasional spectators.

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten,” Miranda said as he sat down.

“Of course not, I just got tied up and could not break away without wasting an entire night’s work. Has he fought yet?”

“No, he has been waiting for you to come. He should be next when this match is over.”

The match soon ended when one of the young men trapped the other’s sword arm and bashed his head a few times with the hilt of his training sword after a poorly executed lunge. The blows rang like a gong against the steel helm, but the heavily padded armor protected him from getting more than a headache and a bit of dizziness.

“Oh, the other boy is so big,” Miranda said when Brent and Daebian took the field.

Azerick understood Miranda’s concern. Daebian was the size of an average twelve-year-old, while Brent was seventeen and nearly a grown man, and not a small man at that. Their increased training was already adding muscle to all the martial students and Azerick ensured they were well fed.

Alex shouted for the match to begin and Daebian immediately went on the defensive as Brent launched into an aggressive assault. Although Daebian continually retreated before the much bigger boy, Azerick was impressed with his son’s sword work. Daebian fought with a master’s conservation of energy, never expending any more than necessary to block or dodge a stroke.

Daebian continued to let Brent push him around the yard until the older boy had had enough and used his greater size to bull Daebian over. Brent lunged with a powerful thrust and Daebian flicked his sword just enough to make it slip harmlessly past. But instead of drawing back for another strike, Brent pushed forward, grabbed the collar of Daebian’s armor, and jerked him forward. Daebian’s feet beat a rapid pace and his arms wind milled to try to maintain his balance, but Brent twisted and landed a hard strike against Daebian’s back and sent him crashing to ground.

Alex ordered a stop to the fight to allow Daebian to recover. Most matches were set for
either three or five decisive blows or falls. Daebian climbed back to his feet, dusted himself off, and nodded that he was ready.

“This is hardly a fair fight,” Miranda said tersely. “He is so much bigger than Daebian.”

“War is rarely fair, and never civilized despite what some of the ballads would have us believe,” Azerick responded. “I am sure Alex would not have placed them together if Daebian had a problem with it. I am proud of him for being willing to challenge himself even if it means losing. Better to lose and learn here than lose on a battlefield.”

“We are not on a battlefield
,” Miranda countered tersely.

“Life is a battlefield
, now more than ever.”

Brent pushed Daebian around the yard for several minutes
, but his fatigue was starting to show. Both young men landed a few soft hits, but none were strong enough to score points. Brent was beginning to tire and his frustration at not being able to quickly defeat someone so much smaller was beginning to show. He intentionally left himself open and, when Daebian thrust at his midriff, he grabbed the dulled training sword by the blade, held it tight, and struck a clanging blow against his helm.

“Break!” Alex shouted and helped Daebian back to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“I am. Just let me catch my bearings.”

Alex turned to Brent. “Try a move like that in real combat and you will likely lose some fingers at the very least.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“All right, Daebian, can you continue?”

“I am ready, Sir.”

Daebian and Brent squared off once more. Brent knew his fatigue was greater than Daebian’s and sought to end the fight quickly. Brent’s attack was strong but not the wild, hectic swings of a man concerned with losing. He was one of the top students in his ranking and fought with the mental discipline Alex, Jansen, and the other instructors instilled in all the students.

Daebian was now showing signs of tiring
, and his last block took his sword low and left him open. Brent lunged immediately to deliver a powerful thrust that would end the match. Daebian smiled when he saw Brent fall for his feint, turned the incoming sword aside with his gauntlet, and thrust his blade up under his opponent’s helm.  

Brent dropped his sword and clutched his throat as it swelled closed and choked off his air. That should have been the end of the bout, but Daebian launched a fury of blows, his blade ringing off Brent’s armor in a rapid staccato of abuse. Alex shouted for Daebian to break but he kept attacking, unable to hear over the noise of his attack or too lost in battle lust to obey the command.