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

again. The rift was open only a few seconds, but ravagers were frighteningly swift and nearly two hundred of the creatures darted through before the breach snapped shut, locking out the ones too slow to reach it and cutting the slightly faster ones in half.
    The ravagers tore across the tall grass blanketing much of the Habberback Plains, using their long arms to hurtle themselves forward like an ape with the speed and ferocity of a plains lion. However, they were not animals; at least, not in the classic sense. They looked like men with dark red skin, bald or bristly black hair, and carried short blades in each hand to slash their enemies to ribbons. Taut, corded muscles flexed and rippled across bodies covered with little more than a weapons belt and a loin cloth, if they wore even that much.
    They were a locust of unparalleled terror, killing and devouring every living thing in their path. A herd of antelope sensed the approaching predators before they ever saw them and bolted. Fleet of foot, the herd put some distance between them and the fearsome new creatures, but unlike the ravagers, they eventually tired. The ravagers tore into the exhausted animals and slaughtered them en masse.
    Having lived on small animals and cannibalism prior to this, the antelope provided a feast for the ravagers. However, it was a big herd and many of the antelope provided nothing more than the pleasure of killing. Their bellies full and their bloodlust only heightened, the ravagers continued racing for the town the humans called Bruneford’s Mill.
     
    ***
     
    The caravan continued to travel after sunset in hopes of reaching Bruneford’s Mill before noon the next day. They carried a large load of iron, copper, and timber they would sell for coin and trade for the grains the plains were famous for producing. The road was good but not great, and the wagon master finally called them to a stop.
    It took nearly an hour to move the hu ge wagon train off the road and encircle them to provide a meager form of protection. In this case, the only protection they needed was from the frequent winds that often howled across the prairie, carrying mouthfuls of dust with every breath. One favorable thing about the plains was there was ample space to move the wagons and horses off the road and make camp.
    “Aaron, picket you’re your horses on the north side away from the road. Let’s get those cook stoves going. Set some greenhorns to chocking the wagons. Last thing we need is some plain s cat to spook the oxen,” Wagon Master Owen barked needlessly.
    He had an experienced crew , and everyone knew their job, but he had a job to do as well and he was certainly going to make sure everyone saw him do it. They would reach Bruneford’s Mill just before noon the following day if they left before sunrise. His job was almost halfway over and he looked forward to completing it. It was the largest caravan he commanded during the year. His commission from this venture would pay for the addition to his home, which he desperately needed with the new baby on the way. Owen sighed, feeling too old to be a father again, but he married a young woman and was still healthy despite cresting the hill of forty years.
    He watched his people efficiently carry out their duties, barking out a few order s every so often just to ensure they knew he was playing his part. Owen liked working with people he knew and who knew their job, because it made his a lot easier. Some seasons, he had a green crew and had to play both wagon master and nanny to ensure everything was done properly. It was less of an issue these last few years since most people who hired on to the Tower Trading Company stuck around. They paid the best and treated everyone properly, and only a fool went looking for better when you had a good employer.
    Aaron, his guard captain, approached him from out of the darkness , which was just now being broken by several campfires. Owen recognized him even before he could make