The Sorcerer's Return (The Sorcerer's Path) (30 page)

This was where Commandant Reece would see how well this new battle doctrine worked against these
monsters. Instead of men carrying sword and shield, the bulwark of his footmen wielded spears with large, rectangular shields capable of locking together at their edges. A fist-sized hole set in the right side of the shield allowed the spear to thrust into their enemies’ bodies without creating an opening and making them vulnerable.

The two armies clashed and the greater strength of the ravagers pushed his first, then second, and third ranks back, but the forth rank held as the fifth rank braced their shields against their fellows’ backs. Spears stabbed out of the holes in the shields, finding any bit of exposed red flesh presenting itself.

Against a human army, the assault would have ended there, but ravagers farther back leapt over the heads of their brethren and landed within the deeper ranks of soldiers, slashing and clawing. A lesser army may have succumbed to panic against such an alien attack, but these were not conscripts or even common soldiers. The Academy produced officers and knights, men whose training made them elite amongst any army in the known world. The rear ranks wielded swords and smaller shields and did not waver. They laid steel into their enemy without balking even as their friends died around them.

Headmaster Florent breathed a sigh of relief and whispered thanks to the gods
and to Commandant Reese as his men drew the bulk of ravagers away from her people. But now was not the time to lick their wounds. Despite numerical superiority, the martial students were hard pressed and dying.

“Wizards and adepts, forward! Apprentices and Dorm Masters, stay with the others and guard yourselves,” the Headmaster ordered.

It was a long run to reach the soldiers, especially after such an exhausting ordeal, but the mages used the Source to feed their weary muscles. The wizards reached out with their magic, sending huge balls of fire exploding into the nearest ranks of ravagers brought to a halt by the unyielding shield wall.

The rear mass of ravagers ceased pushing and leaping over those in front of them and sprinted at the mages
who destroyed them from behind. Before they could drown the fires of their hatred in the wizards’ blood, the two groups of cavalry thundered into both flanks in perfect formation, seemingly passing through each other like phantoms as they wheeled about for another charge.

Without the bulk of ravagers pressing against them, the footmen pressed forward and began driving the creatures back. Swordsmen ran to the outside flanks of shield bearers and closed the three-sided box upon their enemy, gaining momentum as they hacked their way into them.

Their numbers nearly exhausted, many of the remaining ravagers broke away and fled into the darkness in the direction of the city proper to wreak as much havoc as they could. Commandant Reese ordered a large detachment of cavalry to give chase, rouse the city guard if they were so oblivious to have slept through such chaos, and hunt down every last monster.

The battle was over and Headmaster Florent could not imagine a more bitter victory. Large sections of The Academy were destroyed. The losses at the Scholars’ Academy were too horrible to contemplate. With no way of defending themselves, a small group of ravagers had decimated
the scholars. Once numbering just over a thousand students and faculty, fewer than four hundred managed to reach and lock themselves within the expansive vaults protecting the most cherished archives in the kingdom.

Tears flowed freely
down Headmaster Florent’s face as she stood at the entrance to the novice dorms, absorbing the horror that had occurred there. Although all of the student houses suffered terrible losses, the bulk of them had occurred here. The ravagers struck the hardest at those least able to defend themselves.
     She continued to stare down the hall as an icy chill crept up her spine. “Did you do this?”
     “No,” the voice behind her answered.
     She stroked the Source, prepared to tear at it with every ounce of her being and unleash it upon the sorcerer. “On your mother’s soul!”
     “I did not cause this,” Azerick said.
     Maureen choked on a sob and faced the emotionless sorcerer. “Could you have prevented it?” Azerick inclined his head ever so slightly. “Was it easy? Was it easy to make the choice of letting these children die to teach us a lesson?”
     “When I compare it to the number who would die if you continued to ignore my warnings and chose to not prepare, yes, it was easy. My people are prepared, The Martial Academy is prepared, or at least preparing, and armies throughout the kingdom and beyond are preparing, but it is not enough. Without The Magus Academy, we will all die.”
     Maureen shuddered. He was right. Never in their history had The Academy been attacked. She and her people had been confident, arrogantly so, that such a thing could never happen. Despite Lord Giles practically begging them, in his way, to prepare, they chose to ignore his warnings and suffered for their hubris.
     “Damn you to the abyss!”
     “I have been damned once. I would be surprised if it was the last time.”
     “Does it at least hurt? Are you even capable of feeling pain or remorse for your choice?”
     “Giving in to sentimentality and guilt will kill as surely as the ravagers and the host of other creatures clawing to get at our throats. But yes, it hurts. It was as painful a lesson to teach as to learn, but one none of us can ignore.”
     “Good, I am glad it hurts. I hope you take the pain to your next grave and, this time, you stay in it! If you were not part of this, how is it you are here already? Did you fly in on your dragon?”

Azerick handed her a thin, leather-bound book. “This is something I have been working on. It explains how to create a stable gateway capable of transporting people hundreds, even thousands of miles. I saw one when I was taken captive by psylings. It transported the entire ship and crew to their city. I made a small one just outside
the walls. When I sensed the breach in the barrier, I used it to carry me to Southport. You will erect one at each of the city’s main gates. My people are already constructing similar gates in North Haven. Yours will take the people to Brightridge, mine to Brelland so we can evacuate the cities.”

“You believe Southport and North Haven might fall?”

“There is no might; they will fall. You saw what just a couple thousand ravagers did to the most concentrated and powerful forces in Valeria. Imagine a thousand times that number assaulting our cities. I believe they will come from the sea, ferrying the initial assault force in their flying ships. Once they have secured a beachhead, they will erect gates similar to these to bring the rest through.”

Headmaster Florent looked at the book in her hand and to Magus
Armand and Magus Sorenson. “Have the artifact vault unsealed. I want every artifact we can use to help defend ourselves distributed into the hands of the staff and every wizard-level talent available to us.”

“Headmaster, the council must discuss all of this before we act rashly,” Magus
Armand replied.

“Look around you! We are the council! The rest are dead along with hundreds of our students! I am declaring martial law and taking command of The Academy.”

“Martial Law? Headmaster, such a declaration is reserved for the most desperate times of war!”

“We are at war, Magus,” Headmaster Florent stressed. “We have squandered a year of preparation and I will not let another minute pass. Coordinate with Commandant Reese to begin combined training exercises. I want a copy of Lord Giles’ training doctrine in the hands of every staff member by tomorrow.
I want two dozen adepts from the most influential families to scour the cities in search of anyone with the propensity for wielding magic. If we can construct these gates quickly, we should be able to find most of them within a few months.”

“Headmaster,” Magus
Armand said, “if you insist upon this overzealous, overreaching demand for power without first gaining the consensus of the staff, I must oppose you on this.”

“If you oppose her, you oppose me, Magus,” Azerick said simply, but
the threat was evident in his voice.

Magus
Armand looked to Magus Sorenson but found no support there. “Very well, Headmaster. But when this is through, there will be an inquiry, I promise you.”

“If we are alive when this is over, I will welcome it.”

“It appears you have things in hand, Headmaster,’ Azerick said. “I shall you leave you to your creation.”

As Azerick walked away, Maureen wondered if his last comment was directed at her efforts to prepare or a final barb for the
massacre she allowed to happen this night.

Azerick stumbled through the gate, dropped to his knees, and sicked up the contents of his stomach. His entire body shuddered as he tried to wall off the pain of what he allowed to happen
this night. He gasped in several deep breaths before getting to his feet and making his way home.

Wolf watched Azerick from the inky recesses of a tree. He did not know what terrible thing Azerick had done or witnessed, but he was grateful to not have the responsibilities placed upon Azerick’s shoulders.

Azerick climbed the stairs to his room that may as well have been a mountain. He had not been in his bedroom for weeks since he felt little of the effects of physical fatigue; this pain, though, was emotional and it was crushing him beneath its weight. He feared he would collapse at any moment.

He stood for several minutes and watched Miranda as she slept. Her lone form was a testament to one of
the many sacrifices he and his family had made, and one of his greatest failures. He needed to reach out to Daebian before he became so lost he might never find his way, but there never seemed to be the time. Both his sons grew so fast. It was all out of control. Daebian was a man in mind and rapidly approaching adulthood in body as well, Raijaun even more so. His rapid growth, due to his demonic and draconic natures, had him standing a few inches taller than his brother and almost as mature in appearance. How could he possibly manage the defense of an entire kingdom when he had no control over his own family?

Miranda stirred as Azerick conjured a light. “Azerick, what’s wrong?” she asked as she blinked against the soft light and saw the remorse
carved on his face.

“I murdered a thousand people today, hundreds of them children.”

“What?” Miranda exclaimed as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and rushed to Azerick’s side.

“Ravagers attacked The Academy tonight. They penetrated the wards around it and caught them unprepared.”

“Azerick, you cannot blame yourself.”

“
Yes I can. I let it happen. I saw the weakening. I knew where it was going. I chose to ignore it and repaired others of lesser threat instead. I told myself it had to be done.”

“
Could you not have warned them?”

“
No. They would not have believed me, or worse, accused me of masterminding the attack. Even if I had warned them and they prepared for the attack, they would have made excuses afterward, taken half steps, not thinking beyond what they saw tonight. They had to experience the full horror of what we face.”

“Then this is what needed to happen. I trust you.
”

Azerick shuddered.
“I wish I could trust myself. I kept telling myself this was the only way, but part of me wanted to punish them, wanted to make them hurt for not listening to me. I am the man who returned from the dead, who spoke to the gods. I am a hero many times over. Who are they to ignore me? I fear there is a tyrant in me, Miranda. There is a tyrant who preaches benevolence until he does not get his due and I hate him. I am terrified at becoming what I most abhor.”

Miranda held him tightly. “I do not think you ever have to fear becoming a tyrant. A true tyrant never doubts himself, never questions his actions or rights. You will always question yourself and do what you know is proper no matter how hard the choices you face. It is why the gods chose you save us above all others. The gods could have given power to anyone. It is your morality and conviction that cannot be duplicated.”

For the first time in months, Azerick lay beside his wife and took comfort in her arms.

***

Daebian defeated his fourth opponent today, the best the school had to offer. He could even beat Alex two out of five times without using Klaraxis’ power. Only Jansen remained as an insurmountable opponent. Even when heightening his physical and mental acuity with the demon’s dark power, he barely held his own for the majority of a match.

The day of sparring was over and it was time to feed his demon. Klaraxis whined incessantly
if he went long without consuming the life of another creature. He still complained since Daebian would feed him nothing other than the life force of animals he caught in the woods despite the demon’s constant insistence of going into the city and relieving the occasional vagrant of their wasted life.

That was something neither of his fathers understood about him. Everything he did had a purpose. Azerick droned on and on about choosing the right path, considering the welfare of others. Not putting himself first seemed like the shortest path to failure. Killing people in the streets who had not offended him would draw too much attention, especially when the task could be accomplished just as easily with animals.