The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) by Brock Deskins Page A

is forbidden for non Kin to walk amongst the people unescorted.”
    Trielle zipped in through the smoke hole above the fire pit the moment Golac departed. “Did you talk to the big big stinky? What did he say? Can we go home now?”
    “I cannot speak to their King yet. I must fight to prove myself worthy of gaining an audience. No one here will listen to me until then.”
    “All right, a fight! Finally, something interesting. So you club this guy, talk to the big big stinky, and we go home and eat some proper food. See if you can wrap this up in the next hour or so, would you? I’m hungry, and the smell here is killing me.”
    “I do not think it is going to be that easy. I must fight their champion in the morning without using my magic, and if I do not win they will kill me.”
    “Like hell they will! I’ll stab every one of them and put this entire smelly town into hibernation!” the sprite declared and flew around the room stabbing at invisible ogres with her tiny spear.
    “I appreciate your support, but I don’t think that is a good idea. Kramloc says I must reflect on what it means to be an ogre.”
    “Well, you have the smell down pretty good, so it shouldn’t take long to master the rest. Breathe more through your mouth, jam a finger into any opening up to the second knuckle, and poot like a buffalo.”
    “I do not think that is what he meant.”
    “Good luck then, because I can’t see much else to them than that.”
    Trielle vanished through the smoke hole when Golac returned with a wicker basket containing food and a clay pitcher of water. He set the basket down on the floor and turned to leave.
    “Golac, what can you tell me of your champion Bojan?”
    Golac turned, grinned broadly, and shook his head before leaving. Bron did not need any words to understand what he just conveyed. Bojan would be a formidable opponent even amongst the ogres, and without his magic, he stood little chance of victory. Bron refused to give in to despair. His goddess set him upon a mission, and he would not fail. She would not let him fail. He spent much of the night meditating and praying to Ellanee and infusing a sense of peace into his troubled heart.
    When Bron next opened his eyes, a pale grey light seeped through the smoke hole, dimly illuminating the yurt’s interior. He heard no uproar in the town, so he assumed Trielle managed to stay out of trouble. At least she did not get caught he had to amend when he saw her near the wall examining a small hoard of new beads, feathers, and stones.
    The druid picked an assortment of fresh and dried fruits from the basket Golac had left and Trielle had failed to devour despite some obvious effort on her part. He had just washed his breakfast down with some water when Golac pushed through the flap.
    “The hour is near. I hope you listened to Kramloc’s words and took heed.”
    “I am as ready as I can be,” Bron responded.
    Golac grunted and motioned for Bron to follow. The Druid picked up his staff and dutifully plodded after the ogre warrior. Golac led his charge farther to the east before turning north outside of the village. The path they followed showed recent signs of heavy use. Wherever they were going, they were not the first ones to arrive.
    They were nearly to the base of the cliffs when Bron knew they had reached their destination. Golac led him down a narrow path descending between walls of stone and into a deep bowl. The surrounding boulders and high cliffs created a natural arena of sorts with hundreds of spectators gathered around the rim and along ledges cut into the walls. A resounding cheer arose as Bron stepped into the ring.
    “Remember, you win or you die,” Golac said before departing along the path they had used to enter.
    Bron turned toward the center of the pit as a deafening roar from the crowd reverberated through his bones. He turned a slow circle to locate the source of their adulations and watched in dejected disbelief as the biggest ogre he