In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1)

by Steve M. Shoemake

  Herodius lingered with Maria a little longer before he took her hand. “Come, Maria. We should be getting back. It looks like heavy clouds are rolling in from the North…could be rain.” Turning his back to the beach as twilight deepened, they slowly began walking home, smiling and laughing as they discussed the day’s small adventures.

  Behind them, concealed under the deepening clouds, were a line of boats stretching out across the water, silently sweeping themselves along the water toward the sandy shores of paradise.

  Magi

  Sitting under his Tree alone, Magi tried to put the events from this morning out of his mind. He was reviewing an incredibly complex spell, one that required two complex potions as ingredients. …Ragor…. He was distracted and getting nowhere. Without thinking, he began fiddling with his ring, and started daydreaming again when he was interrupted.

  “Magi, what are you studying?” Kari asked as she sat down, uninvited, next to him. Since when did she need an invitation? he wondered. She still wore the same green tunic from this morning, and her brown hair fell in light waves about her shoulders.

  “Just some spells that can affect the weather. Have you checked on Tarsh?” Magi dropped his eyes to keep from getting lost in hers. Unfair to be born with eyes that shade of green.

  “He’s asleep. Marik closed up his wounds and did a lot of healing. Those missiles could have killed him.” Kari’s voice had an edge he had grown to recognize. “Ragor has the soap, though I doubt he recognizes that he needs it. I hope he dies of skin rash.”

  “He certainly needs it, given what the crowd began throwing at him when the barriers came down. I thought Tarsh’s parents were going to throw torches on him. Ragor’s always been a bit of a bully, but I never thought…”

  “Marik calmed everyone down. The whole village was ready to lynch him. And frankly, Marik should have let them.” Kari continued.

  “What would be the point of that? Ragor would defend himself with even more aggressive spells, and a lot of people would get hurt,” Magi countered. Now he can discipline Ragor without risking an escalation or harm to other villagers. Perhaps Marik was wise for that.”

  “Discipline? He awarded Ragor the victory! Does that sound like discipline? Does it sound fair?” Kari said through gritted teeth.

  I can’t remember the last time she was this angry, Magi thought. Even when I hurt Kyle, she wasn’t this hot. And she doesn’t even raise her voice.

  “Kari. I’m as upset as anyone,” he replied. “I live with Tarsh, remember? He’s one of my closest friends. But Marik knows what he’s doing. I’m sure this isn’t the first time a student was injured in his Tournament. Look what I did to your brother—shouldn’t I have been disciplined, too?” Magi wasn’t even sure why he was arguing.

  “Oh please—you know that was completely different. Kyle wasn’t lying there, beaten and spent, when you dropped that hammer on him. Why are you defending him, Magi? Ragor is awful.” Kari got up and started to leave.

  “I’m not defending him. I wanted to crush Ragor! If it had been me—” Magi started to say.

  “You should have. Tarsh is your friend, as you say. Why didn’t you do anything to Ragor?” Kari’s eyes flashed as she spun around on Magi. “You’re the best mage at this school. Everyone knows it. Why didn’t you do anything? You claim he cheated you out of the Finals, he damn-near kills your friend right in front of you, and you sit here studying the weather? What kind of man are you?” Her words were like a rusty knife in his side.

  Sitting under the Tree, Magi had the same heightened awareness that came to him the instant he summoned his magic. He felt blood rushing to his neck, and his mouth ran dry as his own anger began to gather. He could smell the saltiness of his armpits as sweat began building. Years of training allowed him to force himself back under control. He felt a cool breeze that rustled the leaves in his Tree and whipped Kari’s hair. He brought his hand to his cheek to rub the coarse growth of afternoon stubble on his untrimmed beard. He had to stay in the moment and master his emotions. “Kari—I think it’s best that I go inside and check on Tarsh.” And end this conversation.

  “Yes, you do that.” Kari turned and stalked away. Magi pressed his spellbook shut and headed inside.

  Magi

  Magi stared at Tarsh, who was sleeping. Nugget was getting some food together while Kyle sat at their table, sharpening a small, silver knife. Magi frowned at the repetitive scrape scrape scrape—he’d never seen Kyle do that before.

  “What are you doing, Kyle?” he asked.

  “I dunno. Just felt like sharpening my blade.” He sheathed the blade and put away his whetstone, then got up and left.

  Nugget smiled briefly at Magi while slicing a loaf of hard bread, scattering crumbs on the floor. “Everybody’s got revenge on their mind, seems to me. Ragor’ll need to stay away from the school for awhile, cause there’s a hundred people in the village that want to plant a knife in his back right about now. Kyle will have to wait behind Mrs. Minster—she never seemed to want Tarsh in Marik’s school in the first place.”

  And Mrs. Minster will need to get behind Kari. “How’s he doing?” Magi asked.

  “Sleeping. Marik acted quickly to heal him. He’s weak. Tarsh will recover, but I don’t think he’ll be running around for several days, if not longer.” Nugget paused in his bread slicing and looked directly at Magi. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to talk to Ragor—alone. Quit looking at me like that. If Tarsh’s three roommates show up, it’ll be a fight for sure.”

  “Damn right it’ll be a fight! What the hell, Magi? Don’t be a hero. And don’t be a diplomat either. Let’s go kick his a—” Nugget was pointing his knife as he spoke.

  “Enough,” Magi interrupted. “Do what you will, Nugget. I’m not going to be a hero, or a ‘diplomat’ as you put it. I want to speak to Marik first.” Like Kari, it appears everyone but me wants blood.

  “Sometimes I don’t get you, Magi. There’s a time for study and a time for action.” Nugget tossed him a piece of bread and left. Magi easily caught it one-handed without turning his head. Being ambidextrous, he’d always had unbelievable hand-eye coordination and dexterity. Might need both hands if Ragor’s in a mood to fight.

  Magi

  “I have already dealt with Ragor, Magi.” Marik’s voice was patient, but weary.

  “You dealt with him for cheating, but this was beyond cheating. You saw—” Magi started down the path, but was cut short by his teacher’s upraised hand. His lips drawn into a thin line, Marik shook his head.

  “We have discussed this, Magi. First, there is no evidence that Ragor cheated. Second, while he went too far in trying to win, yes, he broke no rules. He dueled to win, and he did.”

  “He was needlessly cruel.” Magi saw he was getting nowhere.

  “He dueled to win.” Marik repeated. “I know Ragor isn’t a model student. But I have dealt with the matter.”

  “How so? What punishment have you levied? Master—there must be some retribution. Surely you will not let a student fire ten darts into a defenseless student’s chest for sport?” Magi’s considerable fuse was also beginning to smolder.

  “My actions are my own, and I do not need the council of an 18-year old student whose view of the world extends solely to this village, and as of a few weeks ago, Gaust. Who here is a True Mage? What do you know of crime and justice? Your whole life has been study and practice, sheltered from the hazards of this Dark World. I send you out to Gaust to show you a glimpse of the wider world, and now you presume to sit on a Judgment Throne. By what right do you feel your opinions should be considered? By what right should I consider your advice?” He let the words hang in the air as he fixed those eerie, zombie-like white eyes on Magi. He could never be exactly certain what a True Mage was looking at because they lacked iris and pupil…but at that moment, Magi felt his Master’s eyes boring into him.

  He did not relent. “Master—I do not expect you to consider my council. I
simply wanted to know your decision.”

  “Why? So you can judge me for yourself, with your foolhardy friends filling your head with the basest of thoughts and emotions? Where is the wisdom in my sharing his punishment with you?” The edge in his voice had lessened, but was still there.

  Magi lowered his head. “Very well. I will leave the matter with you. Thank you for taking the time.” He turned to leave.

  Marik put his hand on Magi’s shoulder. “Wait.” He sat down and motioned for Magi to do the same. Magi couldn’t help but stare at all the books that lined his Master’s study. Every room in Marik’s home seemed to be meant to keep books. It was like the man lived in a library.

  “Magi, I know you will not let this go. One of your most endearing qualities is that you are such a terrible liar.” He smiled at his star pupil. “So I will share this with you. Ragor will be haunted by this day for the rest of his life. Let me leave it at that. Phillip has asked that I make a public spectacle of Ragor to keep the villagers from taking matters into their own hands. If they try to attack him, he will defend himself and people will be hurt. I am considering the Elder’s request, though I find it distasteful myself. As I’ve said, the boy broke no rules.”

  “What spectacle?” asked Magi.

  “He wants a public whipping in the square, while I restrain Ragor from using his magic.”

  “I see. When will you decide?”

  “Soon. When Tarsh regains his strength, I will talk to him. His opinion matters to me on this.” Marik’s comment was pointed, but not mean. “Magi, this Dark World will ensure many unfair things happen. There may come a day when justice is evenly dispensed, but I fear you will find that good things don’t always happen to good people, and bad things to bad. Often it is the opposite, and we must all learn to navigate these circumstances to our best advantage. Do you understand? Will you let me handle this now?”

  “I do,” said Magi. “I just don’t like to see good people taken advantage of, Master. But I will leave this in your hands.”

  “Good. Thank you, Magi. And now you must begin preparing to leave once again. We will be departing to see the Ol’Shakoor soon. It is time for your prophecy to be read.” He stood up and showed Magi to the door.

  “I will. Thank you for taking the time to see me, Master.” He departed, thinking to himself, a terrible liar indeed, as he smiled and turned toward Ragor’s house.

  Magi

  It was dusk, Magi’s favorite time. The sky was purplish-blue. Gorgeous. The orange-hued moon was visible in the early night sky as he walked across the wide, dirt trails through the village to Ragor’s barracks. He, too, lived with several other boys. Magi was friends with a couple of them—he was friends with most in the school, actually. They all despised Ragor. He knocked.

  The door was opened by Skylar, a small boy for his age. Ragor’s best friend, if you could call it that. Lapdog is more like it. “Is Ragor in, Skylar? I’d like to speak with him.” Magi asked. “I’m alone,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  “Ragor!” he hollered behind him. “Magi wants to talk.” He heard some muffled voices. “Ragor says he’ll see you in some other time. He’s studying.” Skylar went to shut the door.

  Magi placed his hand on the door. He was extremely muscular for a magic-user, almost as big as the lumpy Ragor himself, and every bit as strong. “Please. Just a quick word.” He looked down on Skylar and smiled.

  “Ah…sure. Come in.” Skylar turned again and yelled. “Ragor, Magi came in!”

  Ragor emerged from an adjacent room. He was larger than Magi by a couple inches, but nowhere near as well built. Nugget’s right…he’s just plain ‘thick.’ His dark hair was cut short and poker straight, cropped just above his ears.

  “What you want?” Ragor asked. “Come to bitch about your friend?” He narrowed his eyes in a manner that would have made him look menacing if Magi was prone to intimidation. He wasn’t.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Just one question. Why? You had him beat. Why almost kill him?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  Ragor hesitated. “Mr. Composed…” he began. “You ever want something so bad you just sort of lose it?”

  “Sure, we all have. I have a hard time believing you just ‘lost it’ though, Ragor.” Magi crossed his arms.

  “Right. Just like you didn’t lose it when you nearly crushed your pal Kyle.”

  “That’s different, Ragor. My intent was never to hurt him, and you know it!” Magi took a step toward Ragor, pointing.

  Ragor backed up a step, but didn’t back down. “And mine was? So you’re a mind reader now, eh? Think you know a person’s intent. Your arrogance is unbelievable.”

  “Arrogance? It’s not arrogance, Ragor, it’s common sense. Only a fool would equate these two events. Kyle was still defending himself—he even cast his spell. It wasn’t strong enough, but he was still competing. Tarsh was defeated, hands over his head, ready to yield. And you put ten missiles into his chest. And while we’re being honest with one another, it’s not as if this is exactly out of character for you, either. You disgust me.”

  “You finished? Let me know when you’re off your high horse, because last I checked a mage with hands over his head could still cast spells. You think you’re so wise, don’t you? The ‘wonderkid of Brigg,’ raised by a True Mage. You’re not as smart or as wise as you think, Magi.” Now Ragor took a step forward, sucking in his gut and straightening his back to his full height. “And you disgust me, too.” He looked directly at Magi with no hint of remorse, but no hint of malice or fear, either.

  “And you tripped me.” Which am I more upset about?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ragor said without even a whisper of a smile. An honest lie, if ever there was one.

  Magi hesitated this time. Then he asked, “What did Marik say to you about this?”

  Ragor flinched and lowered his head to stare at the floor. He relaxed his shoulders and stepped back again. “We discussed how the tournament ended.”

  Magi pressed. “And? I can’t imagine our Master letting this go unpunished.”

  Ragor picked his head up and looked directly at Magi and gave a hollow, cold laugh. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about punishment. It doesn’t concern you, Magi. Go mind your own business—I’ve got studying to do.” He stared Magi down for a brief moment, then turned and left without another word.

  Magi also turned and left. Skylar sat in the next room, eating a tiny slice of roasted pork with a small apple. He looked up and curled his finger at Magi, who came closer to the small boy.

  “He dreams,” Skylar whispered. “Last night, and every night of his life from this point on, he’ll dream of Tarsh filling his own chest with those magic darts, and will awake full of pain. He’ll suffer for his lack of restraint from this day forward. Now go, and let us get back to our evening. We both have studying to get done. You can see yourself out.” He wiped some grease of his mousy face and headed to his room.

  Magi shut the door behind him and headed back, pulling his cowl up over his head as the night wind blew in his face. Fitting, he judged. Judged…he smiled under his hood. Marik knows me well. He said I wanted to sit on the ‘Judgement Throne’, and he was right.

  Leaving Ragor’s house, Magi wasn’t so sure that he still deserved a public whipping, however.

  Xaro

  Xaro had spent a long day haggling with Elves in Shinty-Moore for a large shipment of wood. The men Tar-Tan had left behind had many tasks, including continuing their training. But their most urgent need at the moment was the repair of several towers around Sands End. Elaborate scaffolding and bracing would be needed, and for that, they needed strong wood, and lots of it. Almost all of his wood had gone toward the construction of ships capable of bringing back 50,000 men. He needed new supplies, and had been teleporting back and forth across the Ajax Mountains that cut across Ipidine to meet with various trading groups all day. He w
as tired—not physically—but mentally, having used a non-trivial amount of energy in his spellcasting throughout the day. Yet one more spell was needed. He had a final appointment this evening…on the other side of the world.

  He could not teleport there; there was no magic that could send him across the vast sea. It was a limitation on the physics behind the spell itself. There was something about large bodies of water that simply absorbed the energy into which a mage transformed in order to facilitate the teleportation. Over land this wasn’t an issue; mountains and rivers and forests had no effect on the spell. Across a continent, a mage was only limited by the depth of their own energy reserves. But across a large body of water…that was different for some reason, and the problem had plagued spellcasters for centuries. Many a mage had tried without success to create a new spell that would eliminate the need for sea travel. Invariably their energy was lost at sea, perhaps manifesting as a solitary wave or a lightning strike unseen in the middle of the ocean. It wasn’t quite the same as drowning, but the effect was the same. If any had succeeded, they’d never put their spell in writing.

  But there were other ways of communicating across the vast distances of Tenebrae. Summoning his energy, Xaro focused on the elaborate incantation that would summon the shade of another person. Drawing complex runes in the air and chanting flawlessly, he completed the spell with a flourish of black powder that he tossed into the air. As the dark dust settled, it formed into the outline of a man. The outline began to shimmer, like a reflection in a calm pool of water.

  “Nathaniel, I appreciate you agreeing to meet. You look well. How is business?” asked Xaro.

  “As you know, the Guild does well…but not nearly as well as it should.” The mist smiled. He was an unremarkable man in most every way. Some would perhaps describe him as too thin, but many in this Dark World looked thin, unable to eat their fill. He gave the impression that he was more athletically thin than malnourished, however. Light brown hair was cut short to his head, and his eyes had a slight tilt to them. Xaro looked at his face again, and did think his nose was a bit hawkish, but again—hardly remarkable. Just as he would have it, no doubt.