In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1)

by Steve M. Shoemake

  The Queen’s gaze lingered on Simon before she slowly took her eyes off him to address the entire council. “Make your preparations. Appoint your men…and women. I’d be most pleased if this party sailed before week’s end. Tell them to find us these True Clerics. Tell them that if they are successful, we will bring God back to Tenebrae.”

  “And if we are unsuccessful, my Queen?” Niku asked.

  “Then come back unscathed and we’ll regroup on our own,” the Queen replied.

  Phillip

  Phillip returned to his home after negotiating a rate with Rebecca, his sheep’s wool cloak a snapping behind him as he shut out the cold. “The Lady Ranger” was her nickname around Brigg. Few women were ever allowed into the Ranger’s Guild. A life of hunting, tracking, scouting, foraging, leading, and guiding others was a nomadic existence that didn’t appeal to most women.

  Phillip knew that Rebecca was hardly like other women, though. He had gotten to know her, never missing an opportunity to glean some knowledge about someone that might pay dividends down the road. One day she had confided to Phillip that there was a time when she aspired to become a True Warrior, but in the end decided the isolated life of a Ranger better suited her disposition than the regimented life of a soldier, even a mercenary. It was a Ranger’s life for her, though many men had learned the hard way that she was more than a lady sharp-shooter with a ready bow: she could fight. Phillip had an appreciation for a woman who knew how to defend herself…or her partner. He needed no further proof than Marik’s regular employment of her; he had relied on Rebecca for many years for missions in and around the northwestern area of Elvidor. He knew Marik was shrewd.

  Phillip knew all this because he knew everyone in Brigg, as well as half the villagers in Fostler and Briz, too, not to mention his relationships with the many prominent townspeople of the larger coastal cities in the three-finger peninsulas. Mere connections are, however, just not enough. I need something else…something only a fool would refuse.

  Phillip Xavier Trenton took off his cloak to reveal a sky-blue tunic that was getting a little tight around the midsection; unlike the villagers, the Elder had not missed too many meals recently. He patted his paunch a bit proudly as he took a seat by a fire. As he allowed himself to warm up, he poured himself a tall glass of spiced wine from his ‘good’ stock—the cask he saved for himself, not wanting to waste it on guests. He sipped it greedily and collected his thoughts, speaking out loud for his benefit only.

  “Rebecca is my perfect conduit. Takes the extra money and asks no questions. Were that most women were like her!” He chuckled to no one in particular. “It is my lucky day that this foolish pixie Marik put in charge of his school came to me. A wonderful opportunity, if I do say so myself.” His eyes were already straying toward his reserved cask, thinking of topping off his glass, he was in such a festive mood.

  Pay Rebecca to get close to Kari. Through Kari get close to Magi. And with Magi… It always came back to the young mage. He had followed the boy’s meteoric rise as a young mage since Marik first brought him to the village. And now the whole community was buzzing by the news that the not even the prophet could tell his future. It just added to Magi’s mystique that he now had to travel all the way to Shith to meet the old Elf. Phillip was convinced that Magi was special—a little raw perhaps—but he had to be destined for greatness. He had seen some demonstrations first hand, and the rumors of his power were already discussed in Gaust, Shoal, and other nearby cities. If his loyalty could somehow be obtained—if some leverage could be brought to bear on him—he would have what he needed for his ultimate endgame.

  “The Queen ignores us in the West,” he said with a sneer as he did indeed decide to top off his glass of wine even before he was halfway through it. “It is not enough that I come to her with an offer to unite the continent across the Crystal Mountains. Does a tenant farmer sell his crops to the landowner?” He smiled at his analogy and sat back down with his wine. “No, Queen Najalas is too smart for that. Even if I could unite the lands west of the mountains to bring together with the east, what would I be bringing her besides more problems and petty squabbles to arbitrate? Our bereaved—and childless—Queen will need political allies that increase her resources, not spread them out.”

  A smile slowly spread across his thin lips. “But—if I can deliver her one of the most promising young mages in the entire realm to serve our cause…” King Phillip has such a lovely ring to it. “Now, if I could only do something about our fair Queen’s looks. But then, I suppose that is why we have such excellent wine to drink.” He shrugged his shoulders and drained his glass.

  Magi

  “I can’t believe it,” Marik said, staring out into space, his white eyes focused on nothing. When he heard the advice Magi had been given, he sought out Pilanthas immediately. The tired Elf must have repeated his advice to Marik, because he had had that distant look on his face for hours. “I saw him die,” he muttered.

  He, Kyle, and Magi stayed in a guest house provided by Pilanthas while Magi sorted through what he had heard. It seemed so surreal. Wisdom? War? Gods? Clerics? The only real thing he felt he could latch onto was the Elf’s advice to seek out his father. Having basically been raised by Marik made this very appealing. He wanted to believe. It made sense to him that he should go and try and find him, and that he should do this before he climbs the Staircase. It seemed fitting that he should give his father a chance to see him before his eyes were forever changed. And that assumes he is to succeed…if he were to fail, or become disfigured—all the more reason to see his father first.

  But more so than that—Magi wanted answers.

  And from the look of it—so did Marik.

  Besides, he had already crossed the mountains through the only known pass. Heading back up to Brigg and then trying to climb over the Crystal Mountains further north on the range would be virtually impossible, especially now as the weather began to turn. He may be fit to teleport after he became a True Mage, but the reality was this was his best chance to move freely on the eastern side of the range right now—and the three of them knew it.

  Of course, all of these were sufficient, rational arguments for why he should go. But there was more. He had questions. This ‘shadow on his soul’—what did the Elf mean by that? I don’t feel any different. But the biggest question of all—how? Marik had always said his parents died in a foolhardy experiment. Could the Elf be mistaken, or worse, lying? Magi dismissed this pretty quickly. Marik came back convinced that the prophet was telling the truth, and it clearly had shaken him. In fact, the only reason Magi hadn’t confronted him was the obvious fact that he was as equally stunned by the news. If Marik had lied to him all these years, then he was lying to himself as well.

  Magi had made up his mind. Increasingly, he looked at Marik as less of a ‘Master,’ and more of a contemporary. It was only years of discipline that kept him from exhibiting disrespect. But on this I do not follow you, Marik. Follow me if you wish. I don’t really care either way.

  After a long pause, Magi rubbed the stubble that had grown around his face. It, too, had a slightly brownish-red tint that matched his long, auburn hair. Eighteen, a man. “I am tired of this discussion. The question is not should I go, but when. My mind is made up. Tomorrow, I leave for Paragatha. The shortest route is to sail across Lake Calm. You are both welcome to join me, to wait for me, or to head back home as you best see fit. But I am resolute on this. At first light, I will set out to find my father, Marik.” Then he added, “Master.”

  Marik’s white eyes finally stopped staring into space as if he was brought into the present from a distant time, and slowly he turned to his protégé as if he heard him for the first time. Kyle shifted uncomfortably, but he spoke first. “Magi, I’d love to join you. I don’t see that it’s a big issue prolonging our journey a few more weeks. I can see my parents a few times a year—I can’t imagine what this news must be like for you. Master Marik, I think I’ll accompany Magi.” He was try
ing his best to ask for permission without asking permission.

  Marik slowly nodded. “I agree. Wholeheartedly, in fact. If your father lives, we must find him. Tomorrow it is. I will leave you two to your preparations. I will join you as well at first light, but tonight I’d like to check in with Serenity, just to make sure the school is doing well, of course. I’ll admit that part of me is worried that if I stay away much longer, they may discover I’m hardly needed there at all!” He smiled, somewhat awkwardly, and retired to his room.

  Magi tried to smile back, but he knew the look on his face was more patronizing than engaging. I’m beginning to wonder myself whether you’re needed here, either.

  Veronica

  To call the tunnels dark would be like referring to a tomb as “chilly”; it did no justice to the sheer blackness Veronica found herself dealing with. Her pitiful torches illuminated about ten feet in all directions, but the darkness itself literally seemed to be a living thing, pressing in on her light. She had enough light to see where she stepped, and enough to read Barnabus’s map. She had enough light to eat cold food, and enough to find stable walls to lean against for rest, but hardly enough to feel safe, knowing something could be lurking fifteen feet away, with miles and miles of twisting paths to cross before daylight favored your eyes again. A weak person would be driven mad in less than four or five hours. A True Warrior might last a little longer. Veronica, however, was unfazed.

  The darkness held no terror for Veronica. She existed for the shadows. They were a comfort to her. She earned her bread stealing from one unseen place to the next, softly, silently, with only death as her calling card. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhat at ease, knowing that while caution was required, stealth was likely not. When you are used to walking on an edge for so much of your life, there is a certain comfort that comes from being able to glide freely, unconcerned about whether you’re being seen. In some ways, she felt freer in the mines than she did even above ground.

  Free, but not safe. She smiled—there is a difference. Veronica still watched her step—ten feet at a time.

  Time was difficult to keep down in the mines, with no sunlight. Always more self-aware than most, Veronica believed she had been down under the mountains for three days. She tried to take one long rest a day to help her mark the days, but it was difficult. Sometimes she slept twice in what she knew was less than a full day. But regardless, one thing was certain—she had followed the map consistently, and it had proven to be remarkably accurate. At every turn, she subtly marked a path in both directions just in case she would need to come through the mountains via this secret route again, mapless. Always increase your value for the next contract.

  Maybe a week or ten days into her journey, the cave she was following stopped sloping downward, and began flattening out. Further, while the walls up to this point had been inside the torchlight, the width of the cave was now stretching beyond her light, and when she approached either wall, she noticed they were also getting smoother. The air seemed a little less stale. Not quite fresh, but noticeably cooler. The bridge across a gaping chasm almost snuck up on her, it appeared so suddenly a few feet away.

  “Hello, Veronica. I’ve been expecting you.”

  Kari

  “What a lovely day!” Kari exclaimed.

  She and Tarsh were enjoying the short trip to the Ol’ Shakoor. The sky was cloudless, and the sun was bright. However, it was growing extremely cold. Snow was thick on the ground this close to the mountains. Rebecca was walking with them, casually leading them toward the well-known prophetess.

  “Lovely, but cold. I’ve travelled this road a dozen times for your Master—Marik, that is. Tell me, how long has he been away now?” she asked.

  “Months,” Tarsh answered.

  “I wonder when he’ll return? He left with your brother and…friend, Magi, didn’t he?” Rebecca asked in an almost off-handed manner.

  Tarsh immediately tensed up, and they both stopped walking. Kari looked at the Lady Ranger incredulously. What village gossip has this woman been engaged in? “What are you implying, Rebecca?” Kari couldn’t help but think of her last conversation with Magi. Who knows where he is and what he’s doing. I’m getting out of this village, one way or another, starting today. She was sick of hearing about her brother’s roommate. She took a quick look at Tarsh, who was stoic.

  Rebecca smiled and looked at the two of them, who both stared indignantly back at her. “Please forgive me, I wasn’t implying anything,” she started. “I certainly meant no offense. Nobody has told me anything—I’m a Ranger. Had I wanted to get involved with village gossip, I could not have picked a worse Guild.” She flashed a reassuring smile and put a hand on each of their shoulders, swinging her head back and forth to look both in the eye as she continued. “As I said—I did not mean to imply a thing. I do occasionally hang my cloak in Brigg when I’m not hunting or tracking, and to be truthful, only a fool would not observe that the two of you were close. And two things you should know about me: I’m no fool, and as a Ranger, you’ll find I’m more observant than most. But if I’m mistaken, please forgive me.”

  “You’re mistaken.” Tarsh said. He grabbed Kari’s hand. She allowed it, but her eyes flashed, briefly in his direction.

  “I see.” Rebecca smiled as she turned around, and kept walking. Not content to let the matter go, she casually continued, “So, may I ask what happened? The life of a Ranger is so nomadic, I have few stories of my own.”

  Not wanting to hear any of this, Tarsh let go of Kari and walked on up ahead of the Ranger, effectively leading the group along their snow-covered path, though he knew not the way.

  Kari paused, inhaled, and then said slowly, “Nothing happened. There was nothing between us, there isn’t anything between us, and there won’t be anything between us. He and my brother are off pursuing his prophecy, and now Tarsh and I are off to pursue ours. Simple as that. You know, for someone who says she avoids gossip, you sure seem most interested in little else.” She started walking ahead, oblivious to the fact that the Ranger alone knew the way.

  Undeterred, Rebecca pressed on. “So, why not join him? You could have gotten your prophecy read by Pilanthas as well. I’m no mage, but must everyone from Marik’s school see the Ol’ Shakoor? Why not have Kyle stay back and you join Magi instead?”

  Kari’s feet stopped in the crunchy snow. She ground her teeth a bit as she slowly turned around. “Marik wouldn’t allow that.”

  “So, you asked?”

  “Of course I asked! You think I want to spend more of my days wasting away in Brigg, watching villagers fight for soap and beg for food? The whole world is out there, and I’ve seen two villages: Fostler and Brigg. I’ve now gone farther East than I’ve ever been in my life. I would have shaved my hair off to join them on the journey to Shith! Not because I’m interested in Magi. I…I’m not saying I am or am not—that’s not the point. The point is I need to get on with my life!” After her eyes flashed, she took a deep breath. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Oh really? You sound like a Ranger to me. If I had any magical talent, perhaps I’d have stayed in one place for awhile and studied like you. Regardless, I’d still range soon after my studies were complete. I think I know exactly how you feel, actually.” She smiled and put her arm around Kari and they started walking toward Tarsh, who had reached a fork in the trail.

  “Left, up ahead,” she shouted to Tarsh. “The Ol’ Shakoor is just ahead. I’m sure you’ll get some answers, but I’ve never led a trip with a mage who doesn’t come back with more questions.” She stopped suddenly and turned to Kari, fixing her gaze on her brilliant green eyes with her own blue-grey ones. “Allow a slightly older lady to advise a slightly younger one. If I may be so bold—I would encourage you to see the world a bit before you make any big decisions concerning what you’ll hear in there.”

  “To what end?”

  “There will be time for you to settle down, but if you are restless now, you’
ll always be restless until you’ve seen your fill. And whenever that time is, there will be men for your choosing. Maybe Magi. Maybe this one we’re travelling with—surely you’re not oblivious to how he looks at you? Give yourself some time that is just your own, to do what you want.” She smiled mischievously at Kari as they approached the same fork. “The opportunity to tie yourself to another…that burden of responsibility—it can wait until you’ve at least seen a city or two, don’t you think?” The Lady Ranger winked at Kari.

  “Spoken like a True Ranger. So when will you settle down?” Kari asked, curious herself.

  Rebecca did not answer immediately. She finally smiled coyly and said only, “Come on. Let’s go visit your prophet. Kraggentop towers above us, and I can hear the running water, though just barely. It must be close to freezing, and I imagine the crystal and ice displays around her cottage will be breathtaking this time of year.”

  Kari did a slight double-take. Her?

  CHAPTER 13: THE CLERIC AND THE MAGE

  Malenec

  Fire did him no good for two reasons. Number one, Malenec needed corpses, not ash. And number two, Tar-Tan was right about one thing: fire was not a friend to his existing undead army. But they did have many advantages over living troops: they required no supplies, they never disobeyed, their injuries required no attention, they spread fear and disorder by merely existing, and they were lethal with simple bites and scratches…which then leads to an ever growing undead army.

  Of course, at the present he didn’t have an army. He had fifty undead warriors. As he camped in the forest about a league away from the port city of Ilbindale, he thought of the best way to attack the city. Zombies make terrible scouts. He had to do all of the reconnaissance work himself, which was fine. Staying unseen was as easy as breathing for a True Cleric of his stature. Modest prayers such as these were routinely answered.

  This is why the Clerics will ultimately rule—our power is only limited by our God. A mage is limited to books and scrolls and components. What limit does Kuth-Cergor have? Only his will limits him. Malenec would serve Xaro—for now. But he had no doubt who would ultimately rule at his true Master’s right hand.