The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path) (47 page)

“All right, demon. I give you this body, but know I will fight you for it every minute for the remainder of our shared existence.”

Azerick released his mental grip on their body and Klaraxis practically hurled him into the recesses of his mind as he leapt to the fore with a scream of primal fury and exultation. Klaraxis’ clawed fingers dug into the black stone and drank in the power stored there over the centuries by the shades in the wailing pits. Klaraxis stood upon his powerful ebony legs and the blocks of stone rose with him.

“Oh good, there is still some fight left in you, pathetic little human parasite.” Drak’kar smiled.

Klaraxis grinned evilly. “Not human, not anymore and never again.”

Drak’kar took a step back as he realized his victory was no longer near at hand. Klaraxis was the most powerful demon in the abyss by a significant margin. Only the human’s weakness convinced him to challenge his rival. However, not all was lost. Klaraxis had taken a beating, and he was nowhere near his full strength despite his return. Even as Drak’kar took a brutal beating from the stones Klaraxis sent hurling at him, he felt they were equal at the least, and Drak’kar was in far better shape.

The Fourth Circle demon lord climbed to his feet and willed bone-like swords to grow from each of his forearms. He tensed his muscles, ready to hurl himself at Klaraxis and engage him in a decisive melee. Before Drak’kar could close the distance, a black figure detached itself from the shadows and plunged a shadowy blade into Klaraxis’ lower back.

Klaraxis released a roar as an indescribable pain lanced through his back. The ethereal blade cut not with the pain of steel but with the agony of rage, remorse, betrayal, and hatred. It was a thing of emotion and it cut deeper than any steel could.

The Rook plunged his shadow blade into the demon’s back as he clung to him like a wasp, twisting his black stinger into the sorcerer’s flesh. The assassin allowed the warmth of success wash through him as his blade finally found its target.

Satisfaction filled the Rook as he redeemed himself for his greatest and only failure. Complacency born of overconfidence had allowed a lowly goblin to kill him. The humiliation added another layer to his failure so unbearable it followed him even into the afterlife. His mission accomplished, he failure redeemed, he could find peace even in this hellish place.

Without warning, a strange silver beam shot through the hole in the ceiling. It appeared to continue upward through the highest reaches of the fortress and into the sky. A shimmering rainbow limned the silver ray that looked and felt far more substantial than simple light.

The Rook and Drak’kar both screamed in rage and denial as their mutual enemy began floating upward. Drak’kar broke into a sprint, desperate to plunge his bone swords into Klaraxis before he could escape. The Rook refused to surrender his prey and dug the claws of his demonic hand into Klaraxis’s black flesh even as he felt himself lifted from the ground and torn apart.

Drak’kar skidded to a stop and roared his outrage as he saw his prey escaping. The enraged demon spun on the figure emerging from the shadows.

“You did this!” the demon lord seethed.

“I provided a needed assist,” Sharellan clarified.

“You said he was mine!”

“I said you could challenge him and ascend his position if you were successful, and so you have. I also told you that this little coup of yours threatened to disrupt my plans. Now you have what you want, and I have what I want.”

Drak’kar clenched and unclenched his fists—all four of them. “I wanted to destroy him.”

“The fates are fickle and uncertain, my dear Drak’kar, you may yet get your chance.”         

Klaraxis looked down and saw the black-skinned demon clinging to him like a leech as both their bodies stretched far beyond physical reality. Both creatures’ torsos stretched beyond the fortress while their legs remained inside it. The pain was unimaginable as the liquid silver pulled them continually upward.

The abyss finally relented its hold, and the two creatures’ lower bodies snapped upward to rejoin their uppers, easing some of the torment afflicting them. The beam expanded and Klaraxis and the Rook soared through a silver tube shimmering with a myriad of hues like oil on the surface of water, twisting, rising, plummeting through the dimensions separating the untold number of realms and realities.

A sudden turn and twist sent the Rook flying from Klaraxis’ back and careening through the void. With the assassin and his dreadful blade gone, much of the pain still afflicting Klaraxis vanished with him. He found himself unable to focus as his mind fought to comprehend what was happening. It was a battle he was destined to lose. Klaraxis and Azerick both felt their consciousness finally surrender its grip and tear away from their body like a shirt being violently ripped from their back and casually tossed into the corner of the great void.

CHAPTER 15

Ellyssa awoke in a small cell with a solid steel door. A cot, waste bucket, and the sigils marking nearly every inch of every surface were the only things decorating the ten by ten foot room. She did not know how long she had been unconscious, but given the generally horrible way her body felt and the incredible emptiness of her stomach, she suspected the time was measured in days.

At least she no longer wore her shackles. Ellyssa tried to reach the Source but could not sense even a trace of its existence. She looked at the runes deeply etched into the walls and deduced their purpose. Some were designed to fortify the physical structure of the walls and prevent scrying, but the majority prevented anyone in this cell from wielding magic.

It was Bakhtaran all over again, and the thought terrified her. But she was no longer a little girl, and her experiences at the hands of her Chain Mistress, Misha, had made her stronger. Whatever they were going to do to her, Ellyssa swore they would not break her.

Inquisitor Fennrick stepped through the doors of Duchess Paullina’s private study and bowed deeply at the waist. Senior Inquisitor Elias was already present and seated, sipping a glass of what appeared to be brandy.

“What news, Fennrick?” the Duchess asked without preamble.

“About what we expected, Your Grace,” the inquisitor replied. “No one is able to use the Codex beyond its mundane purpose.”

Duchess Paullina curled her lip in annoyance. “That is very inconvenient. With the girl being the only known key to the book, we cannot execute her.” The Duchess paused for thought. “This could work to our benefit as well. The Academy is not pleased you left Southport without handing over the Codex.”

Elias nodded. “I have been receiving messages daily from Headmaster Florent. She is becoming increasingly impatient with me.”

“Yes. I just received a letter from Duchess Melina hinting at significant political fallout should harm come to this brat of a child. The last thing I need is for her to involve Jarvin. It was pure luck I did not swing with those other fools after Ulric and Caalendor’s successive failures.”

“I am sure it was due as much to your brilliance as luck, Your Grace,” Senior Inquisitor Elias said.

“Shut up, Elias,” Paullina snapped. “You know I cannot stand a sycophant. You are right, however. Ulric was a buffoon, and I gave him even odds of pulling off his coup. Fortunately, I had the good the sense to err on the side of caution and was able to distance myself enough to get away with my head attached. Still, Jarvin knows I do not care for him, and it will not do to provoke him or his friends. So, we shall appease North Haven and the King by not executing the girl, and we shall stave off The Academy’s demands for the Codex Arcana by reminding them that without the girl the Codex is useless to them. I expect they will make some pilgrimage here to see if the book will speak to any of them. Do you see that as a possibility, Fennrick?”

“It is certainly all but immanent, but not one in which I would put great concern. Historically, the Codex is very particular and, as far as I have been able to learn, never spoken to more than one person at any one time. Even if we executed the girl, I sincerely doubt it would choose another from the stock available here or at The Academy. It is always a possibility, but it is more likely we would have to wait a few hundred years for another wizard to come along that the book deems suitable.”

“That settles it then. Elias, remind The Academy ours is the only place suitable to imprison a wizard of her talent and, since she is the only way we have of utilizing the full potential of the Codex, the book must logically stay here as well.”

“The Academy will not like it,” Elias said gravely.

Paullina brushed away his concern with a flick of her wrist. “As if I care a whit what those bookworms like. Fennrick, have you checked on our young charge?”

“I was going to awaken her after our meeting if she has not already regained consciousness.”

“Do that. I cannot imagine sleeping for a fortnight is terribly healthy,” the Duchess replied offhandedly. “We will schedule her trial for tomorrow where we will certainly arrive at execution as her punishment.”

Elias cleared his throat. “Your Grace, was it not your idea to not execute her?”

“Of course, you idiot, but obviously we will not tell her that. We will offer to commute her sentence in lieu of her cooperation. I swear, I do not know whose boots you licked to achieve your position, but they should be beaten with a stick. Fennrick, you understand what is happening, do you not?”

Fennrick ducked his head. “Implicitly, Your Grace. If there is nothing else, I shall attend to our prisoner and set things underway.”

Paullina nodded to the wizard who then made to leave. Upon opening the door, a page stood just on the other side, apparently deliberating whether to knock. Catching the Duchess’ eye, the page stepped into the room and bowed deeply after Fennrick pushed past.

“What is it?” Paullina asked waspishly.

“Your Grace, your husband wishes to see you at your earliest convenience.” the page spoke with a pronounced tremor in his voice.

“Did he say it was urgent?”

“He did, Your Grace.”

The Duchess smiled. “Tell him I will see him tomorrow after breakfast. Then reschedule his appointment for later that afternoon first thing the following morning.” Paullina looked at Elias. “I had his favorite horse put down after it came in third in yesterday’s race and he probably wants to complain. Ugh, he’s probably miffed enough to whine incessantly through dinner over it.” She turned back to the page. “Best fit him in this afternoon before dinner. I will not have my meal spoiled by his pouting. I swear that man is as stupid as you are, Elias, and twice as irritating.”