In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1)

by Steve M. Shoemake

  Unseen and unheard, Malenec studied the city and planned. The trick was obviously to allow only a precious few to escape. Let those who escape spread the word of Kuth-Cergor’s reemergence. That would please his God. But he had to kill everyone else, and he had to get to each corpse within three or four days if they were to be useful to him. And as he walked the outskirts of the city, he believed there must be between 30,000 and 50,000 people in this large port city. As far as he knew, this was the only major port on the entire continent, and was easily the busiest, given the relatively short distance between the coast of Urthrax and Elvidor.

  The initial plan for which he prayed on his first night was straightforward, and one that he had routinely prayed during his prior wanderings on Urthrax. Hidden from view of the city gates to the south, he whispered his prayer from his knees.

  “Kuth-Cergor, mighty as you are, you brought me to this city to deliver me flesh for the army of your design and for your mission. I pray now that you would sweep the citizens out of their slumber with a mighty tidal wave from the North, crushing the city in water and sealing their watery grave. With your blessing, I shall raise the city en masse, for your glory. Let it be made so!”

  He did not have to wait long, and no birds fell from the sky this time.

  “No.”

  As had been the consistent answer to his repeated prayers, his god would not deliver him a massive pestilence or a natural disaster to make it easy for him. Malenec’s faith would be rewarded; his laziness would not. Malenec finally realized that he would only be fully tempered and useful to his God if he persisted through adversity. Humbled but resolute, he formulated a different plan the second night.

  His secondary plan was still fairly straightforward, but much more time consuming and laborious. First, he would have to close the port to the north. That would be how most citizens inside the city would think of escaping. He would also need to cut off the other three roads leading out of the city to the west, south, and east, and that required more zombies than he currently had in his army. Fifty undead warriors could be removed with a good battery of flaming arrows. But a thousand? That’s different. He could lay siege to the city at that point and float house to house, picking them off one-by-one, section by section, while they slept and starved.

  The best way to shut down the port would be to sink trading ships in the harbor. He could manage that, but the other three routes would need to be patrolled by his undead warriors, and there was simply no way fifty could hold off tens of thousands exiting in three directions when widespread panic sunk in. Malenec thought of different options, ruling them out almost as fast as the ideas came to him: barricades, searching for more sparse villages, even killing and animating forest animals—none were practical, time efficient, or likely to be effective. Faced with the dilemma, Malenec turned to his God in prayer, as he often did throughout the day. His prayers for wisdom surrounding this problem were chillingly answered that very night on the outskirts of the city, when the familiar voice of Kuth-Cergor responded to him:

  “How do you boil a live frog?”

  Gradually…slowly. Of course! The way to cover three exits at once is not to incite a panic until he had enough numbers to lay siege to the city. That meant he would need to kill families randomly, in different parts of town, making it look like accidents or disappearances that were difficult to explain or connect. What father will leave the city while his wife and children are missing? Will he not stay and search? Of course he will. By the time the disappearances draw attention or get connected to other missing citizens in different areas of the city, he should have enough bodies to hold the city exits, swelling his ranks each night. Malenec figured that he should take about a week or two to kill a thousand. Much longer than that and people would start looking at the city as a death trap. Kill them too quick and he absolutely would cause a panic, and his force might get overrun before he could set them up properly to cut off all escape routes. A week…no more than ten days. Add to that the number of deaths and animations from the ships that he would sink in the harbor that first night….he felt confident he’d get his thousand ‘sentinels’ as he began to refer to them in his own mind. With a thousand undead, plus him, and the port disabled—he could hold the citizens inside its walls. The city would become a morgue, with his army doing the killing and he himself doing the animating.

  Once the roads were secure, a small force would then break off and begin taking over sections of the city, and with each new section turned, the numbers of zombies would compound each night and the process should speed up. The key was holding everyone inside the city once panic starts to set in (for he was sure that there would indeed be a panic), and equally important was to avoid a widespread fire at all costs. Getting overrun in a panic or wiped out by flame were the only real threats he could foresee to this approach.

  The next night, day three, Malenec put his plan into action.

  Niku

  Niku sat in his private quarters, having finished packing his most personal possessions that could not be moved for him. He took an old map of Urthrax, some exotic spell components that were rarely used, and a small book on Clerical Myths. At least he thought they were myths and fables until recently. He was taking a few healing and sleep scrolls when a knock came to his room.

  “Enter”

  The Number Two True Mage in the Kingdom, Belara Kassar, entered as Niku looked up and greeted her. As always, she wore a trademark hood that fit tight to her head, forming an upside-down triangle peak that covered the top of her forehead. Today it was a golden hood and cloak ensemble that only highlighted her olive-colored skin. Silky brown hair poked out the base of her hood with the unmistakable scent of exotic spices, vanilla, and roses. He was expecting her, but Niku would have known who it was by that familiar smell. Smells like Belara had become a favorite saying amongst certain warriors and knights to refer to anything that smelled irresistible.

  Her teeth and eyes matched perfectly: pure white. “Master,” she said, nodding as she almost glided into his room. She was tall, and moved with effortless grace as she confidently took a seat.

  Though she was only in her mid-twenties, barely half Niku’s age, she was already his top mage. He routinely had his mages duel in a test of the depths of their potential power whereby two mages would exert a force field on each other, pressing the other toward the outside of a circular ring that enclosed them. It was a magical tug-of-war of sorts, only in reverse. The test was not about reaction time, memorization, dexterity, or creativity in spell casting. It was about power. Can you push another True Mage outside the circle against their will before they push you—that is the challenge of this duel.

  None of the other mages could defeat Belara. It is out of respect for my position that she doesn’t challenge me, but she wants to. Oh, does she ever.

  “Good morning, Belara,” he began. “Our Queen has decided that I am to accompany a small expeditionary group to Urthrax. I have made the preparations for my journey; we depart this afternoon. All that is left is to brief you. I am leaving you in charge of Magic and our Mages during my absence.”

  “I am honored, Master. I still have much to learn, but the Queen shall have my resources at her disposal, of course.” There was clear excitement in the tone of her voice.

  “Yes, I am sure that you will serve her well. But it is important that you know a few things, Belara. I am not sure what we’ll find on Urthrax, but I can tell you what we’re searching for. We are searching for God.”

  “Which one?” she asked without missing a beat.

  Niku smiled. You do have much to learn…but then, don’t we all? “Belara, we are looking for evidence of the One True God. For Dymetra.”

  Belara raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “I always thought that she was a myth. I myself have been partial to some of the Elven Gods, although I have also occasionally prayed to—” she stopped herself. “Regardless, why Dymetra? Of all the possible Gods, seems like an antiquated choice, one that has
left this world for fairer lands, if she ever existed in the first place.” She stood up, and the scent of vanilla, spices, and roses gently spread with her movement. No wonder she makes Simon nervous. She makes every man sweat. Her deep brown robes and golden cloak covered her modestly, literally from head to toe. But Niku was not the first man to guess at the outline of her body when she moved throughout the castle.

  “I understand your question. We all have questions. But the Queen and some of us on the council have reason to believe that these fables may not be myths after all. We are seeking the truth, and Urthrax would be one logical place to go searching for it, as it is the so-called Forgotten Land. The ancient homeland of the True Clerics.” He narrowed his pure white eyes and ran a hand through his hair, streaked with grey. “Belara, we also have reason to believe that Rookwood may come under attack. We don’t know when or how, but we think we know by whom. A True Mage named Xaro is planning something in the west—likely in Ipidine, a world away, but he may strike anytime, and Rookwood must be defended. Should I not be here, it will fall to you to lead the other mages in the magical defense of the city.”

  Belara nodded. “I understand. Surely we can repel any attack.” She smiled confidently, her lips full and red.

  I hope you are right to think so, and I hope I am right to put you in command. “I would hope we could as well, but there is one other thing you should know. Xaro isn’t coming alone. He has invoked the name of Kuth-Cergor, and it is this name that is driving our quest to find Dymetra.”

  Belara sat back down and looked up at Niku, shaking her head slightly. “More fables.”

  “Perhaps. But if you are right, we will have lost nothing, and you will have gained experience.”

  Niku walked over to a chair opposite Belara and sat down. “But if you are wrong,” he said, looking into the face of his Number Two, “Dymetra may be the only hope this world has left.”

  Niku

  Niku was joined aboard the small ship Seaspray by four True Warriors assigned by Strongiron: three men and a female warrior named Rhee. Female mercenaries weren’t terribly rare, but female True Warriors were far less prevalent. Rhee was one of only a handful in the entire army, and was one of the General’s best swords. Tireless, agile, and stronger than half the men she faced, few could disarm her. With the city of Ilbindale still out of sight in the distance, the intense waves of the strait separating the two continents continued to rock their small craft mercilessly. Niku laughed at the sight of all three men leaning over the rail, unused to sea travel, while Rhee just teased her fellow fighters, sharpening her sword. It was a slightly cool, cloudless night, with stars out everywhere across the sky. Niku sat down next to her.

  “Your fellow fighters don’t seem to take to the sea quite as well as you.” He smiled.

  Rhee had flaming red hair that she kept shorter than most women, usually beneath a helm. Her arms were as thick as any smitty’s, and she easily stood six feet tall. Her pale complexion ruled out any Elvish in her background, as her height made any Dwarven heritage dubious as well (though she was barrel chested like even the sturdiest Dwarf). She lacked an Ogre’s greenish-hue or yellowish eyes. She was plainly a Human female—an unusually large, strong, athletic Human female. And pretty. Not anywhere near as exotic as Belara, but pretty in a harsh sort of way.

  “Yeah, they were too proud to brew some sea-tea.” She smirked, flashing Niku a half smile. “They’ll live.”

  “I suppose you’re quite right. I imagine I’ll need to try a calming spell or use a healing scroll if they’re going to be any use to the crew coming into port.” He was smiling and shaking his head as well.

  “Speaking of port, how soon till we reach the city?” The sound of her whetstone on the blade of her long sword made a crisp shrrrick with each stroke.

  Niku stood up. “Let me cast a farsight spell and have look toward the approaching shore.” He reached into a robe and pulled forth a small leaf, and began a chant, drawing specific runes in the air. A hole opened up in the air, like a tunnel, only the image at the end of the tunnel was much farther away than the human eye could see. Much farther away than even a sailor’s looking glass could pick up. Rhee stood up, her blue eyes wide.

  “One of the more useful spells I’ve seen from you mages,” she teased. Niku smiled and looked through the tunnel toward the distant port of Ilbindale that they were sailing toward.

  As they watched, they saw something quite strange. There were dozens of large ships tied to various docks, and dozens more anchored in the harbor, waiting for a dock to open up. One by one, these immense vessels began to shake, and slowly sink in an unnatural way. They seemed to vibrate, and for no apparent reason, began to fall straight into the sea, as if a rope tied to the bottom and center of each hull was methodically pulling them down under still waters.

  “Niku! The harbor! What the hell is that?” Rhee was leaning forward, as if she was about to try and jump through the tunnel that Niku had opened.

  “I’m not sure. But something very odd is going on at Ilbindale. That port will not be passable; our ship will bottom out on the pile of boats that are sinking as we speak.” He continued to stare at the spectacle. “What is that?”

  He focused his spell like a sailor’s looking glass, drawing in the image of the wharf. Pairs of hands were slowly breaking the surface of the water, rising up from the sea to clutch the banks by the docks. Men and women were methodically pulling themselves out of the water.

  Niku dialed his farsight spell in even closer, frowning. Rhee, standing at his shoulder, sucked in her breath. “Those aren’t survivors,” she said ominously.

  The mage shouted for the captain and began yelling at the seasick warriors to pull themselves together. “Captain! Turn east. We cannot make port in Ilbindale. We will drop anchor somewhere off the coast and row ashore.” The captain took one look through the tunnel and soon began barking orders to the small crew.

  As the tunnel began to fade, returning to night sky, Rhee turned to Niku. “What were those?”

  Niku already had his book of Clerical Myths out and was skimming quickly. “I’m not quite sure, but as you saw, they weren’t struggling to climb out of the water like they were drowning. Those bodies were being raised.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Niku looked up from his book, paler than usual. “I mean I think we’ve found our first evidence of True Clerics.”

  Malenec

  Malenec was pleased—tired but pleased. His prayers to sink all the boats within the harbor or anchored just off the port were answered, and in the dead of night he raised two hundred new undead warriors from a watery grave, as they slinked through the shadows around the outskirts of the city to join Malenec’s existing force a league away in the wood surrounding the city. In this manner, more than fifty boats of all sizes were quietly sunk in the dead of night. As the crewman slept aboard their ships, they woke with a start to salt water pouring into their cabins. The shouts that rang out were sparse; most died before ever reaching the top deck. Not a single torch was lit. The city slumbered on while boat after boat sank, with a rising water level the only sign of the massive amount of ships plugging up the harbor sea bottom. In the morning, Ilbindale woke to an empty port.

  Though exhausted, Malenec continued on as the grey light of dawn slowly spread from the East. He prayed for invisibility, and stood quietly by the docks as the morning workers began to show up. He also continued to pray fervently for no panic in city, only confusion and curiosity.

  The first worker looked at the harbor in stunned silence, scratching his unruly beard. He turned to a co-worker. “Stephen? Where are the boats?” The swollen water from the harbor was slopping over the docks, toward their feet.

  “They be sunk. Look! I see some wood floating there.”

  “Was it a storm last night? Winters comin’, but this makes no sense.”

  More workers began to gather, staring over the edge into the water. Soon more and more showed up. “We bette
r tell Lord Bingham. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Blast Bingham! The noble’s worthless. He’s not going to know a thing. Piss on him. If those ships be sunk, there’s gold and other stuff down there! Ain’t deep, either. I say we dive for it. Keep all you find, boys!” With that, he dove into the frigid water. Soon shouts rose up and others joined him.

  Treasure hunting. Of course. Uttering silent thanks to his god, Malenec stole away, content for the moment that there would not be a rush to leave the city. If anything, there would be a rush to stay inside the city, looking for gold and silver beneath the harbor. Kuth-Cergor really did know what he was doing. Tomorrow, after rest, Malenec looked forward to beginning the next phase of his plan that he knew would eventually yield him an entire city of undead warriors…all loyal to him.

  Niku

  “Cliffs, rocks, and more cliffs,” said Rhee, looking at Niku. We can row off the edge of the map before we find a beach or a shore of any sort here on Urthrax.”

  Niku smiled. He figured as much. From his study of the Ancient homeland of the True Clerics, he knew that there were very few ports, and only one tiny inlet at the southernmost point of the circular continent. He held his hands up to signal the four warriors to put down their oars. They had come about as close to cliffs as they dared, not wanting the waves to drive them into the rocks. He stood up carefully in the small boat. “We will drop an anchor here. Put your packs on.”

  Without further warning, Niku began to cast a masterful levitation spell, carrying the five of them up out of the now steady boat out above the water, higher and higher as they approached the nearest cliff. Soon they reached the top, which opened into a series of rolling hills. In the distance, toward the west, they could make out the smoke and other telltale signs of a large city: Ilbindale. Pockets of trees and some sparse vegetation covered the ground between them and the eastern edge of the city.