The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Read Free Page B

stained glass mosaics created by webs of fracture lines the size of rivers. The sorcerer had no doubt that the fallen gods could tear a hole through one large enough to send tens of thousands of ravagers pouring into the kingdom if they so desired.
    “What are you playing at?” Azerick demanded. “Why do you hesitate to unleash your horde upon us?”
    “ You are not yet prepared. We desire you to experience the full terror and futility of resistance.”
    Azerick accepted the Scions’ answer as a partial truth. He held to his theory that the Scions were not going to leave anything to chance and were preparing the board to their advantage. Azerick and Raijaun toiled for an immeasurable amount of time, sealing fractures and walling off lesser breaches until exhaustion finally forced them to leave the Scions’ prison realm. Azerick was unsure of the hour when their consciousness finally returned to his laboratory, but he was certain it was late.
    “Raijaun, why don’t you go get something to eat and rest.”
    “Do you not need to rest as well, Father?”
    “I do, but I cannot. I need to search the Codex for information on creating a Source pool. Lissandra did it, so it must be in there somewhere. Raijaun, I am going to need your help with it. Your full help,” Azerick emphasized.
    Raijaun nodded grimly knowing the kind of pain he would endure by wielding all three forms of his magic in concert. “I will do what I must, Father.”
    Azerick smiled and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I know. You always do.”
    Raijaun left to get some much-needed rest and food while Azerick opened the Codex Arcana and spread its pages out before him. “I must create a Source pool. Show me.”
    The pages fanned and words crawled across the sheets faster than the eye could read, but Azerick’s mind absorbed every word and deciphered their complex and convoluted meaning almost without conscious thought. The Codex held nearly all the answers to every conceivable question regarding magic, but it did not give up its truths easily for it did not think with a mortal mind. Its answers often appeared as riddles to the reader, and the more complex the question the more indecipherable the answer.
    It took days for Azerick to compile a coherent method for creating the Source pool, days not eating or sleeping, his only breaks were the times he spent with Raijaun to make repairs to the barrier in a desperate hope of staving off the inevitable invasion by just another day. It was with heavy footsteps that he finally emerged from his studies and joined his friends and family at the dining table.
    “I presume your emergence means you have met with some success,” Allister said in welcome as Azerick sat down.
    “I have.”
    “From what Raijaun has been telling us of the barrier, I understand your grim demeanor, but I suppose there is more bad news at hand.”
    “A challenge to be certain. In order to create the Source pool, we need a lot of arcanum to act as a catalyst.”
    “How much arcanum?” Aggie asked.
    “A thousand pounds.”
    “A thousand pounds!” Allister exclaimed. “There likely isn’t a thousand pounds in the entire world!”
    Allister’s claim was not far from the truth. The amount of arcanum that went into the construction of Azerick’s staff likely represented a year of mining and refining, assuming the dwarves had found a rich source. Arcanum was not found in thick veins like gold or silver, but scattered specks as if sprinkled by the gods in tiny pinches spread across the whole of the world.
    “I discovered a source capable of providing what I require.”
    “Where in the world can you possibly find that much arcanum?” Rusty asked.
    “The heart of our world is a molten mass of arcanum.”
    “No one has ever traveled to the center of the world. It is not possible,” Allister insisted.
    “A few have, but only Lissandra and her guardians ever returned. I have discovered the method they used to travel there and can