The Sorcerer's Vengeance: Book 4 of the Sorcerer's Path by Brock Deskins

inn towards the stable built behind it. He handed over the reins, Horse’s small bag of oats, and a silver piece with instructions to thoroughly wash and brush him down and feed him half the bag of oats now and the rest first thing in the morning.
    The inside of the inn raised Azerick’s opinion of the establishment a notch or two. Being protected from the elements, the paint on the walls was a single smooth coat as opposed to the multiple layers of repeated touch-ups on the outside.
    “Good afternoon, sir, what can I get you?” a slender man with a huge moustache asked as Azerick stepped towards the bar.
    “Do you have beer?” Azerick asked.
    “Yep, afraid it costs a bit more than the ale but it’s a good brew,” the innkeeper answered.
    “I’ll take a beer, a bath, and a room before dinner in that order,” Azerick told the innkeeper, not surprised that the beer was more expensive.
    Beer cost more to brew due to the different type of yeast used to ferment it and the hops that flavored it, particularly in the southern region of the kingdom. Azerick preferred the lighter flavor opposed to the thicker and often bitter ales.
    He paid extra to have a tub taken to his room and filled instead of using the common bath. He wanted to lie and soak without interruption until his skin turned as pruned as an old man. Azerick laughed as he soaked as an image of Allister came unbidden to his mind. He found that he missed his friends and his students.
    These sentimental emotions were new to him and he did not quite know what to make of them. He had wrapped himself in the security of solitude like a suit of armor. Only Delinda had managed to breach that armor since he lost his home and family and it had left him vulnerable and nearly destroyed him. Taking Ellyssa in was a calculated risk to secure a home away from others where he could avoid most everyone and focus on his studies and her training. Then the floodgates opened and he was surrounded by a multitude of people. He found that allowing his friends and people who cared about him close to him was a source of strength as well. It provided purpose beyond simple survival and the will to fight for something greater than himself.
    He started when he realized that he had fallen asleep. The room was heavily shadowed as the very last of the sun’s light dipped below the horizon.
    Well, I have certainly achieved an acceptable level of wrinkles, Azerick thought to himself as he looked at his craggy skin.
    Azerick enjoyed a decent and properly prepared meal; a good change from the trail food even if the food had come from his own larder. He was no chef and despite the quality of food he had brought, it was still not as good as a meal prepared in a proper kitchen by a skilled cook.
    The evening crowd was loud and boisterous, made up mostly of cattle drivers and other hardworking, dusty folks, but the spirit was good natured and filled with camaraderie instead of hostility bordering on violence as in many of the lower class bars in rough towns.
    The innkeeper was not lying about the quality of his brew. It was quite good and Azerick weathered the audible assault on his ears and enjoyed several glasses before retreating to his bed, feeling the effects of the beer but not to the point of it being uncomfortable or debilitating. After that night with Rusty, he had vowed never to drink nearly that much again.
    He slept deeply and contentedly, waking only after the sun was fully over the horizon. He dressed in his freshly washed clothes, ate a quick breakfast, and bought two small kegs of beer to take with him before retrieving Horse and riding back out into the hot desert to demand answers and possibly justice from an entire enclave of wizards not known for their friendly welcome or pleasant treatment of unexpected guests.
     
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    Ulric marched his men towards the east wall of Groveswood to “liberate” the wealthy nobles from the clutches of the raiders that had been looting and