The Sorcerer's Ascension (23 page)

He took his piece of flat steel, jammed it between the edge of the door and the wall and worked it around the edge of the trap door. Azerick located the simple bolt that held the portal shut but had no room to work the bar back. The thief gave up this approach without remorse, never expecting for an instant that access would be that easy. He hunched over as he ran to the wall opposite the side he had climbed. He came to a corner where a series of rooms stood out from building forming a wing off the main structure.

Azerick fastened his rope to the roof once again and climbed down the L-shaped corner. He stopped at a shuttered window and secured the rope under his thighs with a loop that made an uncomfortable but stable seat that left his hands free to work. He took out his slim length of steel once again and slipped it between the two shutters. With an upward flick of his wrist, he tripped the latch that secured them and climbed inside.

It was dark but the well-lit streets allowed enough light for his dark-adjusted eyes to make out the larger details. The room was well kept and the bed was perfectly made with no personal effects left out. He pulled his rope into the room and left it coiled on the floor below the open window. He thought about closing the shutter as he had found it, but that would put the room into total darkness. Azerick paused a moment to listen for any sounds or alarm that may have been raised by his intrusion. He heard nothing but the pounding of his own blood through his ears. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before making a closer inspection of the room.

Azerick stepped quietly across the room to a large wardrobe. Slowly opening it, he peered inside but found nothing but empty space. He opened several drawers of a dresser and found the same.

It must be a guest room. Just my luck
.

A truly lucky man would have climbed right into the master’s bedroom, piles of jewels that had not matched the Lady’s evening attire lying on top of the nightstand just waiting for him to pluck them up and drop them into his bag. Nevertheless, Azerick had never considered himself a terribly lucky man and it continued to hold true tonight.

Azerick crossed the room and listened at the door. Still no sounds emanated from within the house. He pulled the handle down ever so slowly and eased the door open. The ornate, solid-wood door opened on well-oiled, perfectly balanced hinges without a sound. Azerick darted his head out, checking both directions of the hall. The floor was clear as far as he could see.

He stepped out into the carpeted hall, silent as a ghost. The young thief closed the door behind him but did not latch it. With his luck, it would lock behind him and he would have to take precious minutes picking the lock. He looked at the lock and was reasonably confident he could pick it if he had to just in case. There were two more doors on each side of the hallway with a large set of double door at the end.

He slipped past the two sets of doors on the side figuring the double doors to be the master and Lady’s bedroom. Once again, he gently pulled down on the highly polished brass door handle. It was locked. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he went to work on the lock with his picks. Unlike the locks he practiced on, this one was a better quality, but it was just a bedroom door, not the King’s treasury.

In a few minutes, he heard the satisfying click of the lock giving way to his picks. He gently closed the door behind him as he entered the large, elaborate bedroom. Dim light filtered through the ornate plate-glass window. The window alone would pay for everything he needed with a fair bit left over.

Azerick immediately spied the decorative jewelry box sitting out on a bureau made of rich mahogany. It was an impressive affair made of gold and silver with elaborate scrollwork swirled between gemstones affixed to a lid inlaid with ivory. Azerick reached his trembling hands out to take the entire box then stopped.

Something felt wrong in the air. He could feel a sort of static making the hairs on the back of his hands stand on end. He turned his head left and right, looking at the fancy box out of the corners of his eyes. He could almost make out a faint glowing, swirling pattern of light similar to smoke, twisting and writhing like snakes around the box. It was a strange sensation that he had never felt before and it filled him with an enormous sense of unease.

He tried to study the strange emanations coming from the box but his eyes failed to decipher its mysteries. On an impulse, he closed his eyes and focused on the strange swirling webs of energy he had felt a moment ago. He closed off all of his other physical senses, seeing, hearing, and feeling. He saw, felt, and heard only with his mind.

With his hands held out in before him, he slowly began to unravel the smoky webs of energy. Azerick could not fathom how he was able to see and feel the emanations from the box, but he knew he somehow possessed some intrinsic understanding for unraveling its mystery even though he did not really understand what it was. He knew it was a trap of some kind, magic to be sure, but he went about unlocking it like he would a lock made of common iron; only his mind was the pick, and picks of far better quality than the crude set he had fashioned out of metal.

After what seemed an eternity, he knew he was done and that the box no longer posed a threat to him. He thought of stuffing the whole thing in his bag but it was large and he did not want to take anything so bulky on a run like this. It had a small lock built into the elaborate wood and silver front.

Azerick slid his knife blade in the tiny gap between the box and the lid and gently prized it open. The top popped open with a slight cracking of wood. He lifted the lid and stared for a moment at the glittering jewels facetted in gold.

Rings adorned with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds winked at him, reflecting even the tiniest light within the room. Necklaces of elaborate designs and of varying lengths and thickness lay coiled in felt-lined nooks.

He lifted out the top shelf and poured the contents into his bag, then pulled out each of the three drawers and did the same. He looked around the room but saw nothing else within his immediate view worth taking that was small enough to carry in his bag with any sort of ease.

Azerick made a quick circuit around the room but still saw nothing of interest. He did take a moment to stuff a handful of silk shirts and well-made trousers into his bag as well as a warm-looking fur-lined cloak he found in the master’s large, standing closet.

He crossed the room back to the big double doors and slowly pulled it open, which was still slightly ajar, more than eager to make his escape. As Azerick opened the door, ready to duck back into the hallway, he suddenly found himself face to face with the stubble-bearded countenance of one of the house guards.

With a look of utter surprise on both of their faces, each reached for a weapon at their hip. The guard drew his short sword but Azerick was the faster. He flung another handful of the fiery red powder straight into the eyes of the unfortunate guard.

The guard let out a loud curse, dropped his blade at his feet, and fell back, tearing at his eyes with his hands. Azerick darted past the momentarily incapacitated guard and ran down the hall and into the guest room where he had made his entrance.

The guard shouted an alarm that was quickly repeated throughout the house. The teary-eyed guard burst into the room behind the intruder just as he reached his rope. Azerick did not bother to even slow down on his dash across the room towards the open window. He grabbed the rope at a dead run, momentum swinging him out of the window and into the darkness just beyond.

The guard, with his eyes still burning and nose running profusely, loped to the window ledge to call out another alarm and to help guide the guards patrolling the grounds in the direction of the fleeing burglar. Azerick’s feet caught the guard dead in the chest with the force of his entire weight as the thief swung back to the window after having just reached the apex of his initial outward swing and brutally cut his shout of alarm short.

The guard flew back into the guest room and rolled to a heap over halfway across the room. Azerick slid down his rope so fast it gave him a slight rope burn and hit the ground with a roll before springing back onto his feet. With a skillful twist and tug, his rope let loose from where it was anchored at the top of the mansion. Azerick slipped the bag off his shoulder and stuffed the rope inside before tearing off across the yard.

The angry shouts of men and the braying of hounds came around the corner of the manor house closest to him and took up a hasty but determined pursuit.

Azerick tore the bag holding the rest of the red spice from his belt and upended it behind him, covering his tracks and slowing the dogs. He came to the stone and wrought iron wall and scaled it like a cat treed by dogs, which was not far from the truth.

He paused for just a moment before jumping down the opposite side onto the street and saw that the hounds did indeed get a snout full of the powder that wreaked so such havoc to their sensitive noses. With a grin of triumph, he dropped lightly to the street below and sprinted down the cobbled avenue then turned down the dark alleyways. In just a matter of moments, the shrieking whistles of the city watch grew fainter as he made his way back to his hideout.

CHAPT
ER 10

Magus Aegir Illifan was sitting in his tower within Castle
Stonemount
studying an ancient tome about long dead kings, queens, wizards, and conquerors in hopes of discovering a clue to the location of another ancient artifact when a brightly luminous falcon flew through his open window.

Magus Illifan was in his mid sixties with shoulder length grey hair shot through with traces of brown, but he still moved and sounded like a man of middle years. He had once taught at the Academy but had decided to travel and study for several years before King Jarvin appointed him as one of his leading counselors as well as court mage.

That is Alleel's sending; they must have discovered something
.

The magus extended his arm for the magical messenger bird to land. As soon as the falcon lit on his extended arm, it burst into tiny motes of light that drifted to the floor before disappearing, its message transferred to the recipient as soon as they touched.

"This is not good, not good at all," the wizard muttered to the empty room and rushed out in search of his king.

It took the wizard nearly thirty minutes to find King Jarvin. He eventually flagged down a serving maid who had just sent hot wine and bread to the King's library. He rushed towards the library to deliver his news to his liege. When he burst into the library, he found King Jarvin sitting in a high-backed chair across from Bishop Caalendor.

"Ah, Magus Illifan, please join us. The Bishop and I were just discussing some rumors of Dundalor's Armor that he was able to uncover within some scrolls in the church's archives. Have you any news of Captain Brellion's progress?" his king asked him.

"Yes, Your Majesty, but I fear it is not at all good," Magus Illifan answered. “Captain Brellion and his party fought their way through to the citadel's vast underground caverns where they fought a number of creatures. They had found the sorcerer king's deep chamber where sat a large suit of armor, the central piece being made up of Dundalor's breastplate."

"So the sorcerer king had the breastplate all these years, fantastic!" the bishop said enthusiastically, interrupting the wizard's oratory.

Aegir continued. "When Captain Brellion and his party approached the artifact, it, along several other suits of armor, animated and mercilessly attacked his party. Several men were slain including the Sumaran, Khalar."

"That is most unfortunate, he was a good man and Captain Brellion's close friend, if memory serves," King Jarvin said, bowing his head in a quick silent prayer for the fallen man.

"Your memory is correct, Your Majesty. They were able to defeat the magical constructs, including the one that wore Dundalor's breastplate, but not before Magus Alleel was severely injured. They interred the dead in the great chamber and carried their wounded as well as the artifact back to the surface. However, barely a mile from the citadel, they were ambushed by a large group of unknown men. Magus Alleel regained consciousness just long enough to see Captain Brellion and several others fall and send me this message. I fear the breastplate has been lost," concluded the wizard.

"Damn it all to the abyss and back!" Jarvin shouted as he sprang to his feet and paced the room. "That is the third group I have lost on these expeditions. Are you sure it was humans and not orcs or goblins from the fortress?"