TST (17 page)

“What is it?” Azerick asked, fully alert the moment he felt Delinda spring up from the bed.

“The master has returned. He summons me. I have to go tend to him,” she told him hurriedly as she threw a long shift over herself and pulled on her slippers.

Azerick threw on a robe, donned his own slippers, and followed her out of the room with a sigh. He had to run to keep up with her as she bolted up the stairs, not wanting to keep the master waiting. They met Lord Xornan partway up the stairs with his guards in tow. He managed to return with a higher percentage of his guards this time, though still fewer than when he had left. The psyling’s robes were scorched and tattered and most of his guards showed signs of combat as well.

Delinda, attend to my guards and me downstairs. Pet, you know what to do with this,
he said as he shoved a thick, leather and wood-bound tome into Azerick’s hands. Delinda followed the group downstairs while Azerick continued the ascent to the vault chamber with his master’s newest acquisition. He was going to just stuff it on a shelf and deal with it in the morning but he was awake now and his curiosity won out against his desire to return to his bed.

The book was written in a familiar language but with a very old style grammar and syntax. The writing was very similar in style to his language but from centuries past. As he delved deeper into the pages, he began to find historical references to people and events that occurred in his own kingdom’s past. He soon realized that this book must have come from his own world! He tried to recall the exact sequence that Lord Xornan had used to open the gate. When he was certain that he remembered everything correctly, he wrote it down in the ledger of his catalog book so that he could duplicate the process if he ever got the chance.

Beyond the fact that the book came from his world there was a fantastic amount of information regarding ancient forms of magic that had been lost over the centuries. There was a treatise written in great detail by a wizard of obviously extraordinary power. It detailed magical concepts and spell mastery that was unheard of today by any wizard or writings that he knew of. Much of this writing was far beyond Azerick’s understanding but years or even decades of study may change that.

Azerick was so absorbed in his readings that he lost track of time. His stomach told him it was probably past time to break his fast with Delinda but he walked briskly down the stairs in hopes of catching her still in the kitchen. He felt a bit of disappointment when he strode through the kitchen door to be greeted only by Cook and the smell of fried ham, eggs, and oatmeal.

“Morning, Cook. Have you seen Delinda this morning?” Azerick asked as he resigned himself to the small empty table against the kitchen wall.

“Aye, lad, she has been shuttling plates of food to Lord Xornan’s men and tending their hurts all morning. Ah, I think I hear her coming now,” he replied as the door swung open.

Azerick looked into Delinda’s tired eyes, which brightened immediately when she saw him sitting in the kitchen waiting for her. “Oh, I’m glad you made it. Did you stay up also or did you go back to bed?” she asked.

“I stayed up. The book he brought back was too fascinating for me to go back to bed, at least alone.”

“Good, I was getting peevish with jealousy thinking of you sleeping away the morning while I was up working,” she said with a smile.

“I am glad to know that you appreciate my suffering,” he replied, returning her good-natured ribbing.

Delinda was forced to eat a hurried breakfast before returning to her duties. Azerick took the time to drink a second cup of tea before bidding Cook farewell and resuming his own studies and tasks. As much as he wanted to resume reading the new tome, he needed to continue studying. He had not yet mastered the portal spell and he wanted to have it ready before his next battle.

As luck would have it, Azerick managed to squeeze in another week of study before Lord Xornan found him in the library to inform him that his next bout would be in two weeks. Good fortune and hard work paid off for him once again as he completed the portal spell the very next week.

He spent the remainder of the week honing it and the other spells he had learned to battlefield effectiveness. It took endless long nights and early mornings to accomplish, but by the time the day of his battle arrived, he had perfected his spells to the highest degree of proficiency he could expect given the time he had available.

A couple of the gladiators looked at him with increased hostility but the vast amount of the fighters showed him increased respect and acceptance as Braunlen got him prepared. Azerick was now in a higher fighting bracket so he was able to retain the magical items he used in the last bout and would do so until a loss moved him back down—assuming he survived a loss, which few did.

The only thing he knew about this fight was that his opponent was a creature and not a fighter. Gladiators were often pitted against powerful and dangerous animals nearly as often as they were against more intelligent, humanoid opponents. In fact, as a fighter gained in popularity they increasingly fought against creatures to increase the likelihood of their continued survival while still providing a good show for the crowd.

The crowd cheered as Azerick entered the arena, chanting his name, and stomping their feet. Despite his disgust at being forced to fight and kill for someone else’s pleasure, his pride and perhaps even a small part of his ego, could not help but find a small bit of satisfaction in the recognition he received. The adulation went on for several long minutes before subsiding. The clinking and rattling of chains drew his and the audience’s attention to the other gate as it slowly opened.

One of the strangest creatures Azerick had ever seen cautiously emerged from the dark portal. It was a huge beast, nearly twice the length and height of a large bull. It sported six squat but powerfully thick legs. Its hide was the color of stone and covered with large, fish-like scales the size of a serving tray. It had a long flat face that ended in a short, boney muzzle. Its wide head sported horns each as long as Azerick’s arm sticking straight out above its small, beady eyes. It snuffled loudly as it swung its armor-plated head back and forth.

He cast his mirror image spell and his illusory duplicates sprang out around him, shifting positions every few seconds to help confuse his enemy. From the way it was casting about, Azerick assumed that the creature probably had rather poor eyesight but it immediately tensed up as it apparently picked up his scent. The creature seemed to stare straight at the sorcerer as its small, round ears twitched towards him and took another deep breath through its nostrils.

It suddenly sounded a long, loud trumpeting challenge and charged directly at him, not falling for his magical trick. Despite the creature’s great mass, those thick legs propelled it across the arena at a fantastic speed. It would likely not win any endurance runs but its sprinting ability was incredible.

Azerick released a lightning bolt straight at the creature’s broad head. Twin, bright white bolts limned in crackling blue energy forked out at the rushing creature and scored black burns across its thick, scaly plates. The creature let out a bugle of either pain or anger but did not slow or deviate from its course in the least.

Azerick dodged aside to avoid being trampled under several tons of charging flesh and bone. He avoided the pounding flat feet but two of his images were less fortunate. The great ivory horns and the creature’s own girth tore through them, rending them to mist and disappeared. He rolled to his feet and launched a stream of magical bolts into the armored grey side as it spun about for another charge.

Despite the great mass and inertia of the creature, it managed to spin about and reverse its charge with startling rapidity. He tried to dodge again, but the little space it had was still sufficient for the animal to get a full head of steam and clipped his hip, spinning him painfully to the ground. It swung about for a third pass as Azerick painfully picked himself up, trying to ignore his throbbing bruised thigh. He barely had enough time to cast his dimensional gate and jump through before the beast trampled the ground where he had just been standing a second before.

His magical gate deposited him close to the wall of the far side of the arena. The beast cast its head about and charged as soon as it picked his scent up once again. He launched a bright fiery arrow and struck the creature directly in its broad chest but its only reaction was a trumpet of rage as it lowered its horns in another attempt to skewer its antagonist.

Azerick opened up another gate and leapt through just in time once more, finding himself nearly at the distant end of the arena. He shook off the disorienting effects of traveling through the dimensional doorway as the massive beast charged across the arena after him. Azerick raised his arms and uttered a string of arcane words. Stone spikes erupted from the ground directly in the charging animal’s path.

The beast tore through the deadly obstacle without slowing, shattering the granite-hard spears with little more than some deep scoring on its armor-plated hide.

Azerick was forced to escape the beast’s wrath once more by way of his gate spell. He was becoming truly alarmed at the ineffectiveness of his spells to cause any significant damage to the six-legged juggernaut. He wracked his mind for a solution to his dilemma as the monster bore down on him once more.

An idea finally formulated in his mind. As the beast neared, intent on killing the small, annoying creature in front of it, he cast his dimensional portal once again. However, instead of fleeing through it, he dove to the side at the last moment. The raging beast plowed straight through the magical doorway where it immediately emerged on the other side of the arena a scant number of feet from the magically reinforced rock wall.

Unable to arrest its charge, the creature slammed into the immobile barrier at a dead sprint. With all of its considerable mass behind it, the long ivory horns broke against the stone and a loud, sickening crack could be heard even above the sound of the bone jarring impact.

Several spectators jumped from their seats the instant they saw the beast heading straight at them despite the protection of the wall before them. They sat back down with a nervous laugh at their own reaction as the beast sank down onto the ground.

Azerick strode nearer the doomed creature and saw that blood was streaming out of its nose and spattering the wall as it huffed in short panting breaths. The victorious sorcerer looked sympathetically into the beast’s small, black eyes as they slowly glazed over and it breathed out its last rattling breath.

He felt disgusted at the senseless loss and his own feeling of pride at the cheers of the people around him, people he saw as more of an animal or monster than the unfortunate creature that lay dead before him.

  He walked slowly back towards the gate that would allow him to leave the arena and the cheers of the audience behind him. He no longer cared for their adulations and remained silent all the way back to the mansion. Even when his master commented on his performance and cleverness in defeating the creature in such an unorthodox manner, he merely grunted or shrugged in reply. Lord Xornan did not let on that he sensed his fighter’s dismay but Azerick was certain that the psyling knew exactly how he felt and why, just as he knew that his evil master took pleasure in his consternation.

Delinda met him in the courtyard as she always did and blissfully threw herself into his arms when she saw that he had returned unharmed. Azerick returned her embrace but not her joy and she clearly felt it in his touch. She did not say anything then, instead choosing to follow him as he plodded up the stairs and retreated to his room.

“You seem unhurt, what troubles you so much?” she asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I fought a creature today; not a man nor anything close to the intelligence of a man,” he softly replied.

“Why does that bother you so? I know you do not like fighting for their amusement but never have I seen you this upset by doing what you must.”

Azerick’s face darkened with renewed anger. “A man or anything close to such knows why it in the arena and what he must do whether he is a willing participant or not. That beast knew no such thing. It was taken from its home and put into the arena to be slaughtered. It was not evil. It had no particular hate or desire to kill me personally. It saw me as a threat or perhaps an interloper into its territory and defended itself as its nature dictates. It may not even have had those primal instincts directing it. The gods know what these bug-faced monsters did to its mind to make it fight! It was an innocent! It was even more of a slave than I am! I swear I will make these creatures pay for what they do to us!” he shouted as his pent up anger came to a boil.