The Sorcerer's Return (The Sorcerer's Path) (19 page)

I was distracted when that vile creature snuck into my citadel and stole my property. His minions I captured suffered greatly for his audacity.

“The Codex speaks to you?”

“My apprentice as well.”

Tarth smiled and looked into the distance. “Things must be truly desperate if the gods and Codex have selected two masters of the book. What is it you need of an insane old elf?”

“We need you and your people if we are to have a chance of defeating the Scions. Can you tell your people of their return and ask them to stand with us?”

“It is hard for me to return. There are so many memories and so much pain, but you are right. The elves and races must fight together again.”

“I need one other thing from you if you will indulge me.”

“What is it?”

“My people have forgotten about the Scions. You remember. Can you speak to them and try to help me convince them of the danger they pose?”

“I will speak, but I cannot make them listen.”

Azerick looked around the room, at the tiny sanctuary in Tarth’s mind. “Will you remember what we talked about here? Will you be able to deliver my message to your people?”

Tarth grinned mischievously. “You refer to my…instability? I can manage. There is a slight exaggeration on my part in that regard. I find people do not ask much and expect even less from me that way. Besides, it aggravates the dwarf to no end
, and that is one of my greatest amusements in life. His face turns so many hues and his invectives are quite creative.” Azerick shared the odd elf’s amusement. “I suppose we should be going. It sounds as though you have more important matters to attend to than sitting within the mad mind of a broken elf.”

“It has been interesting and informative.”

Azerick felt a gentle push and the tiny room receded until he could no longer see it. His eyes fluttered open and he was once again lying in the shattered orchard. He turned his head and saw Tarth waking as well. Tarth stood and looked at the devastation his magic had wrought.

“Tarth,
are you all right?” Maude asked.

“I am fine, dear, but the gardeners are going to be terribly upset.”

Borik looked almost at the point of tears. “This is terrible.”

“Borik, I did not think you app
reciated the garden that much,” Tarth said.

“To the abyss with garden
! I dropped my sandwich in one of these cursed crevasses you made, you moron! You killed my lunch and almost killed us!”

“Your lunch needed killed, you rotund ruffian,” Tarth
snapped back. “You are getting fat.”

Borik’s face turned scarlet and his nostrils flared. “I am not fat! I just…,” Borik held his belly in his hands. “You’re right; I have really let myself go. Too much hi
gh-living in the castle I guess.”

“You should have no trouble walking it off on our way to my homeland.”

“Your homeland?” Borik exclaimed. “That’s like a million miles through the coldest, most beer freezingest place on the planet!” Borik sighed heavily. “I’m going to need to make another sandwich before we go.”

“I’m sure your hot breath
will keep your disgusting beer in a liquid form,” Tarth retorted.

“It better!” Borik snapped and crossed his arms.

***

“Lords and Ladies
, I understand the difficulty you have believing the things I have told you and your reluctance in supporting my recommendations,” Azerick told the assembly. He decided today he would start off using tact. There was always time to be a thug later. “Since I cannot convince you of the veracity of my news, I have brought to you a representative of the elven nation. The elves were directly involved with the battle against the Scions, and are a much longer lived race than us. Tarthanalis Moonglow is venerable even by their standards. The elves have not forgotten the Scions. Tarth, would you please tell them what you know?”

Tarth stood and smiled at the crowd. “Hello.
I know black should not be worn with brown, nor should you mix plaid with stripes. Your shoes should match your belt and dwarves do not go with anything, except maybe rocks.”

Azerick rolled his eyes at the elf’s antics.
“Tarth, tell them what you know of the Scions.”

“Oh, of course.
The dwarves worked with the human wizards to create the five suits of armor that enabled them to fight the dragons and other mundane minions while the elves and their Guardians fought the Scions. They fought to a standstill and the Scions eventually agreed to banishment, where they have been for the past two thousand years. Now they are coming back, and I have to go tell my people so we can prepare. I would suggest you do the same.”

The representative from Argoth stood. “Lord Giles, I have seen this elf and his cohorts around the castle these last few years. They were tried for assault and burglary and pressed into service by the King. Tarthanalis has routinely displayed odd behavior
, and their conduct flies in the face of credibility.”

“Your shirt
flies in the face of credibility,” Tarth replied with a sniff of disdain.

Azerick laid a hand a hand on Tarth’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into his chair. “Thank you for being entirely unhelpful, Tarth.”

Clarity shown in the elf’s eyes as he responded, “Nothing I was going to say would convince them, so why not mock them for the fools they are?”

Azerick nodded to Tarth
and took over the debate. “I am beginning to think you would argue with the gods themselves if they came. It is not a case of credibility, but of your refusal to believe no matter the evidence at hand.”

“
What evidence, a strange attack on a far away town and the word of a disturbed elf?”

Klaraxis gently stoked the anger burning in Azerick’s gut. “How deep can your greed go? You all spent fortunes continuing the war with Sumara for nothing more than the chance at reclaiming your losses with the wealth of copper and silver within their hills, but you cinch your purses tightly closed when asked to save your own miserable lives! What good is your gold when you and your heirs and everyone else are dead?”

“You answer your own question, Lord Giles. The war with Sumara was an investment that would have reaped profit had Jarvin not ended it prematurely.”

“Are your lives not an investment? Is there no profit in life? If it were just you, I would agree and say no, but it is not just your lives but the lives of everyone in our kingdom and beyond.” Azerick turned to Jarvin. “Your Majesty, you named me Protector of the Kingdom. You said it was more than a ceremonial title, that it came with duties.”

The King nodded. “It does.”

“Then I demand you allow me to do what I must to fulfill that duty since your nobles are fools and too stupid to save their own lives.”

Lord Preston of Brightridge
shot to his feet, his voice trembling with indignity. “You dare make demands of the King? You overreach yourself, sir!”

“I have
not yet begun to overreach myself, and will reach as far as I must to protect the people of this kingdom.”

“You would defy the King?”

“I would fulfill my duty to the Kingdom, even if it means defying the King.”

“You
would usurp the King! You speak the words of a traitor!”

“
I speak the words of a patriot! You who would ignore impending doom on the chance you would lose coin are the traitors.”

“We are loyal to the King!”

“What good is a king if we lose the kingdom? What is a kingdom without its people? You put yourselves at the top of the pedestal and forget that it is the people who make up the base. Without the base, the entire thing tumbles down, and you with it.”

“Perhaps we need more time to consider this,”
the mayor of Groveswood suggested. “Should an invasion occur, we can send our soldiers and wizards to intercept it.”

Azerick shook his head. “You, like nearly everyone else, do not understand the enemy we face. If we wait for them to come, it will be too late. They will flood our coastal cities within days. Brelland and Brightridge will be under siege within a week and fall almost immediately afterward.”

“Brelland’s walls are fifty feet high!” someone exclaimed.

“And the Scions will pile the bodies of their troops up sixty feet and leap down upon your heads!” Azerick shouted back.

“I still say we should take time to consider the reality of the threat and what measures to take in the interim, as well as how to respond to an invasion if it should occur.”

“There is no time,” Azerick stressed through his clamped jaw.

“There is even less evidence,” the nobleman countered.

“What manner of evidence must you have before you will heed what I say? Must your coins and manors be covered in the blood of your people and families before you act? If that is the case, it can be arranged!”

“He threatens us all with murder!” someone shouted above the renewed din.

“I threaten nothing
, but promise everything!”

Jarvin stood and banged his mug on the table.
“We have all heard what Lord Giles has come here to say, and we have all said our peace. It is time to end all this barking and decide a course of action. Whatever we decide will affect us all, especially if Lord Giles is right and we choose to ignore his warning. I created this council because I do not believe in the ultimate wisdom of one man, even if he is King. As Azerick said, the kingdom is more than just the King. Let each representative for their duchy speak their decision.”

Lord Preston was eager and the first to speak. “Argoth
finds the claims of Lord Giles to be preposterous and votes to avoid taking unnecessary and costly actions.”

Lord Blackburn stood and sniffed contemptuously
toward Lord Preston. “North Haven places its trust in her first son and elects for full militarization and conscription.”

“Southport agrees with Argoth,” Lady
Palmer voted. “Such an expense and massive disruption in trade and production is unwarranted. We should wait and see what comes to allow us to make an intelligent and measured decision.”

“If it pleases Your Majesty, Brightridge abstains,” Lord Fowler said, eliciting a few insulting murmurs.

“It would appear the duchies vote to stay our present course,” Lord Preston announced smugly.

The doors to the meeting hall opened and a shrill voice sounded clearly over the muttering assembly. “Brightridge does not abstain!”

Jarvin smiled at the handsome young man who would one day be the Duke of Brightridge. “Thomas, what an unexpected surprise.”

Thomas strode toward the King and bent his knee. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I thought this decision too important to be left to a proxy.” Thomas Everingham stood and looked boldly at the
crowd of adults. “Brightridge will arm and defend itself and the kingdom with every ounce of its gold, breath, and blood!”

Lord Preston laughed loudly. “The boy gets hi
s first black and curly betwixt his legs and thinks he’s ready to make a man’s decision!”

Thomas’s eyes locked with those of Lord Preston, silencing the nobleman and the entire room. “You have offended me, Lord Preston. Mark your calendar three years, nine months, and eleven days from today. On that day I claim my throne and my manhood
, and you will answer for your insult with steel.”

No one laughed at the boy now. Thomas ha
d taken to his sword studies with a fervor the likes of which few had ever seen after the assassination of his father. He could probably take Lord Preston in a duel now if it were not against kingdom law for a boy to demand satisfaction by blade.

“Thomas
—Lord Everingham—I misspoke,” Lord Preston said nervously. “I simply wished to alleviate the tension of the room.”

“And I intend to alleviate the tension your over-sized head places upon your fat neck.”

“Your Majesty, surely you will not allow young Thomas to make such a reckless declaration. I am certain that when he matures he will see how inappropriate such a reaction was.”

Jarvin looked at the angry boy. “Thomas, I look forward to your birthday and coronation.”

Headmaster Florent stood. “If we are through with the entertainment, may we return to the issue at hand? Let The Academy break the stalemate by voting for reason and not rash militarization.”

“Let the Magus Academy speak for themselves,” Commandant Reese boomed over the crowd. “The Martial Academy will not turn a blind eye to a possible threat, no matter how improbable. I have read Lord Giles’ ideas on training and have already begun to enact them. My cadets will be ready to teach
these new standards on a wide scale to the common army within a year.”

“Then we are at an impasse once more!” Magus Florent shouted.

“We are not,” Jarvin spoke calmly. “As the lord of Brelland, I vote we support Lord Giles and his plan fully. As King, I demand it of you all as well. Expect visits from my auditors within the month to all major noble houses so that they may be assessed their war tax. Let me be perfectly clear. If my auditors discover anyone withholding information regarding their financial assets, I will view it as treason and you will swing in the plaza.”