Tower of Winter (The Traveler's Gate Chronicles: Collection #1)
Page 6
And none knew the greatness of Korriphus better than Korriphus himself.
In those times, Lirial Travelers were plentiful, so they built cities for themselves among the Crystal Fields. One day, a white ape with six eyes walked into the greatest city in Lirial, where Korriphus ruled. None had ever met this ape, but they treated him with respect, for Lirial Travelers know better than most how wise it is to show respect to strangers.
The ape called himself Seliethin, and he was most interested in Korriphus.
"Who is this Korriphus?" he asked people in the city streets. "Is he worthy of rule?"
"He is the best of us," the people responded. "He reads the moons like ink on a page! He punishes and rewards with an even hand! When his own son spoke against his rule, he punished the boy according to the law, with no favoritism. Naraka Travelers come to him for justice! There is none more worthy of rule."
"I see," Seliethin said. "He rules fairly, then. But is he strong?”
“Strong as the mountains themselves. He Traveled deep into Ornheim and, on his own power alone, subdued a hundred golems. He brought them back here to raise the very walls you see around you. When the black army rose up in Tartarus, he drove them back into the Labyrinth before the Elysians heard a word of unrest. Lirial is not known for its strength of arms, but Korriphus is the one exception.”
“So it seems,” Seliethin said. “Very well, he is strong and just. But is he wise?”
“Wise?” the people cried. “Look no further for wisdom! He has raided the libraries of Helgard, bringing back their books for our own study. He devised the most intricate mechanisms for keeping our precious Sources hidden. He is on the very brink of deciphering the language of the Daniri themselves.”
Seliethin pondered for a long time. Finally, he shook his head.
“This Korriphus sounds like a learned man indeed,” said the ape. “He does not, however, strike me as wise.”
The people were shocked at Seliethin’s words, but none more so than Korriphus himself. When rumor reached him that a stranger had questioned his wisdom, he sent for Seliethin immediately. You see, Korriphus took his appearance very seriously, and to challenge Korriphus’ reputation was to challenge Korriphus himself.
When Seliethin was brought before him, Korriphus first tried to reason with him. “It has come to my attention that you doubt my intelligence,” he said. “This troubles me greatly.”
Seliethin bowed. “My lord, it is not your keen mind I doubt, but rather the use to which you put it.”
No one else had ever questioned Korriphus’ wisdom, but he was determined to remain polite to Seliethin’s face.
“How, then, may I prove to you my wisdom?”
“Fortunately, my lord, there is a simple test,” Seliethin said. “The Daniri left a riddle behind, as they left so many other things, and we may use it to better ourselves. I am told that you are close to deciphering the Daniri tongue?”
Korriphus waved a hand lazily in the air. “I have yet to properly apply myself. I am sure that the solution is not so complex as most believe.”
“Then this puzzle shall not trouble you long. When you solve it, you shall find me among your most vocal supporters.”
“Very well,” Korriphus said. “Show me your riddle.”
Seliethin, Korriphus, and a team of Korriphus’ closest friends and advisors set out that day, guided by the six-eyed ape. They rode for an entire cycle of the moons before they found themselves in front of the smallest Daniri tomb that Korriphus had ever seen. It was only a single obelisk, sticking up out of the gray dust of Lirial, covered in the writing of the Daniri people.
“Tell me what words are written upon this stone,” Seliethin said. “You may use any means at your disposal. Only when you find the answer to this riddle will I call you truly wise.”
Seliethin bowed to Korriphus and left, vowing to return in one year’s time for the Traveler’s answer.
In the first year, Korriphus rallied the top scholars of Lirial. They spared no expense in attempting to decode the language of the Daniri, and to some degree they succeeded. It is thanks to their work that we can now read the marks on the outside of many Daniri tombs.
But when the year ended and Seliethin returned, Korriphus was no closer to reading the words on the stone. He made three guesses, and when none of them were correct, Seliethin left once more. Again, he promised to return after one year had passed.
The next year, there was a famine in Lirial. Some of the underground mushroom farms had failed to produce a full yield, and blight had struck many of the flocks. The people turned to Korriphus for a solution, but he had nothing to give them.
“If I am not wise enough to solve the riddle of the stone,” he said, “then how can I be the one to solve your problems? Go, turn to another for answers.”
His advisors rationed the remaining crops, and the city was saved, but Korriphus hardly noticed. Another year passed with Korriphus still unable to read the stone.
This time, when Seliethin arrived, Korriphus challenged him. “What do you know of the Daniri secrets?” he mocked. “You are just an ape from the gray wastelands of Lirial.” He arranged a hundred puzzles and riddles in front of them, and dared Seliethin to solve even half of them, if he was worthy.
Seliethin bowed before him. “My lord, I am secure in my own wisdom. Are you? What does the stone say?”
Korriphus had no answer. Once more, Seliethin left.
This time, Korriphus promised a fortune in gold and powerful artifacts to any Traveler who could bring him the key to the stone’s secret. Lirial Travelers are not immune to greed, and they spread out into the unexplored wilds of Lirial. Even Travelers of other Territories came to Lirial, eager to try their minds against the riddle that had bested even the famous Korriphus.
That year, a rebellion rose against the Travelers of Elysia. Their ruling council sent to Korriphus, asking for Lirial Travelers (for, in those days, the Lirial Travelers served and supported the Elysians without question). Korriphus had few Travelers of any worth to give them, for all his best and strongest were out of the city, trying to solve Seliethin’s riddle.
At the end of the year, Seliethin returned. This time, Korriphus had a dozen possible answers to lay before him, but the ape rejected them all.
“I see why men call you learned,” Seliethin said. “I simply fail to understand why they also call you wise. In one year, I will return.”
The ruling council of Elysia was not pleased at Korriphus’ poor support in their time of need. That year, they sent Elysian Travelers into Lirial, where they removed Korriphus from power and put another in his place.
By that time, Korriphus did not care. He brought a tent into the endless gray sands, making his home outside the Daniri obelisk. Some of his old friends and servants brought him food every once in a while, and thus he passed the rest of this life, meditating each day on the stone’s words.
Every year, Seliethin came from his distant home to challenge Korriphus. And every year, Seliethin left, saying that the Traveler was not yet wise.
In this way, Korriphus came to the end of his allotted years.
As Korriphus lay dying, his sightless eyes staring up at ancient words that he had long since memorized, he heard Seliethin approach one last time.
“Please, before I die, tell me the answer,” Korriphus said. “Is it a map? Is it nothing more than nonsense? What have I done wrong? Tell me, before I leave this world forever.”
Seliethin placed one of his hands on Korriphus’ bony shoulder. “It is an old Daniri proverb. A warning, to men such as you and I. ‘Wise men seek understanding so that others might gain. To pursue knowledge at all costs is the mark of a true fool.’”
So Korriphus died, and the wind buried him at the foot of the prize he had chased for so many years. There are those who say he lies there still.
Even now, when many of his accomplishments are lost and gone, the warning of Korriphus remains, etched in a forgotten language
onto a spire of stone. Let us not forget his lesson, lest we must learn it anew.
Intelligence without wisdom is like a sword without a hilt: it will bring you only harm.
-Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 3: Silver
More Stories In…
GARDENS OF MIST
(The Traveler’s Gate Chronicles, Collection #2)
Coming December 2013
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