Magi crawled forward toward the first door. I…will be…a True Mage.
Kyle
One good thing came out of Kyle’s meeting with Ronbar: they both agreed that Lady Velvet was a slob who wouldn’t know a decent pint from a mug of horse urine. It did not take long for Kyle and Ronbar to hit it off, and after a few glasses of “the good stuff,” Kyle had a free night’s rest courtesy of the Miller.
And he didn’t even need to resort to hypnosis or magical tricks—something that Kyle was particularly sensitive about after nearly ending up as a unicorn in Fostler.
Refreshed, he was excited to set out for Rookwood the next morning to see his Queen for the first time.
Queen Najalas
Jonathon stood next to the Queen; it would be a busy morning of updates and petitions. The Queen looked as plain as ever, though her dress was regal enough. Her eyes and mind were always sharp, he knew.
“Lord of the Elves, Keeper of Filestelas, Defender of the South, and Friend of Rookwood—His Lordship, Chief Chocktaw!” he announced to great fanfare. Technically, the Elves fell under the “rule” of Rookwood, but in reality it operated as a vast southern kingdom. Throwing around a few titles to help placate the Elvish Lord was a small price for the security those woods provided.
The Elvish Lord was dressed richly in a thick violet cape over brown travelling garb. He wore his golden crown to court. “My Queen,” he began. “It pains me to say that our scouts have seen a disturbing thing. Across the Sea of Sorrows, heading west, we have seen thousands of men and women, floating in the Sea. They cannot be alive—nobody could swim out in that Sea without a boat. But they are not dead, either. They move. They do more than float. We tried to capture one that came close to one of our shores, but he sunk beneath the depths, with three arrows in his leg. We saw him rejoin the throng out past our bow range, and he had not sunk. He held the three arrows above his head as the waves crashed over and over him and these others. He had pulled them out and was keeping afloat with one arm. Surely these men, women, and even children should drown. It is like a school of thousands and thousands of fish, floating dead and rotten atop the water. Only when you get close enough, you see that the fish are not dead—they only smell dead.”
The audience chamber began to murmur, and it took a moment for Jonathon to restore order. Chief Chocktaw continued. “But that is not the most fearsome thing our scouts saw. My Queen, we saw a ship floating amidst these creatures. When we fired upon them, shortly thereafter the ground began to shake, and the entire face of the cliff crumbled into the sea! I lost twenty-seven Elves in that quake. The three that returned tell of a voice from the sea, and a dark-robed man aboard the ship. Our Elvish eyes see far and true; I do not doubt their story. I don’t know what this means, Queen Najalas, or how this is connected with anything. But I felt that you should know.”
The Queen nodded. “Thank you, my friend. I do indeed know what you saw. It can only mean that a great foe has decided to move his undead army across the sea. How fast were they moving?”
The Elf Lord shook his head. “Fast, my Queen.”
“Could we catch them from behind, launching flaming arrows or raining firebolts from the sky with our Mages?” she asked.
Chief Chocktaw sighed. “You would need the fastest boat in your fleet, and even then it would be folly. I doubt you would catch them for weeks, and this time of year, cutting across the southern edge of the Whirlpool—you would be throwing men and ships away, I fear.” He shook his head. “They move like a sheen of oil across the vast sea, killing everything they touch.”
“Very well. Thank you, my Lord. My council shall weigh our options. Please stay as my honored guest for a few days, in the event that we need further help and council from Filestalas.” The Queen turned to her Steward. “Jonathon, who is next?”
“General Strongiron,” Jonathon replied.
All eyes turned to see the charismatic general bow low before addressing his monarch. “My Queen,” he began. “Allow me to present to you, the Lady Sarah. She is a follower of our ancient God, the one True God Dymetra, recently rediscovered by us in this Dark World. She comes to us seeking knowledge and help in her pursuit of wisdom.” He turned to the lady next to him and smiled gallantly at her.
Veronica, clothed all in white from head to toe, looked to be made of porcelain. She humbled herself with great piety in front of the Queen, and lowered her white hood to reveal herself to the court. She is beautiful, Queen Najalas thought. Such a peaceful-looking girl. “Arise,” she said. “What do you wish, Lady Sarah?”
The Assassin subdued her smirk before it showed, transforming it into an innocent smile. “As your good General has said, I seek your help. Books, guidance, a dwelling that I may use to pray and teach the faith to others. I have no resources, my Queen.”
The Queen considered the request. “I will do this and then some. You will accompany my Head of Magic, Niku, who is leading an expedition deep into the heart of Urthrax. In two days’ time, you will join others on a similar quest, and together learn the mysteries of the True Clerics. It is of critical importance that you come back to us with a level of faith that would impress even the great Windomere.”
Veronica had not expected this. “Your Majesty—” she started. But before she could say another word, the Queen talked over her.
“Jonathon, who is next?” She waved her hand, not dismissively, but it had the same effect.
“Kyle Quinlan, a young mage and petitioner.” Jonathon boomed as Veronica was shown away to the back of the hall.
Kyle had barely stepped forward when the Queen heard his name shouted from behind her. “KYLE!”
Queen Najalas turned around and saw Kari leave Belara’s side and run toward this new petitioner, arms outstretched, as if hugging was a competitive sport.
Magi
The door that had appeared behind the wolf was framed out of nothingness, just as the door at the bottom of the Staircase had been. Magi approached cautiously. He had never been so exhausted—physically and especially magically—in his life. He was nearly spent, and that was saying something. The blood he had lost was also making him woozy. He limped toward the door leading up.
My dagger. He took the dagger out and held it in his good arm, reaching for the door handle with the one that was wrapped in a sling. He forced himself to call to mind the spells he thought he could use in a pinch: missiles, a simple shield, light and darkness. He thought he might be able to make himself invisible for awhile, but that was about all he had confidence in at the moment. Slowly, he opened the door.
The room behind the door was fairly large, and rather ornate. It looked almost like a throne room, with a modestly raised dais in the back. Situated atop it was a large chair, heavily jeweled and cushioned. Bright lights shone from glowing orbs resting on silver plates anchored to the walls. Standing on the far side of the room were three men, all facing Magi as he peered through the doorway.
Two of them wore tattered brown robes with matching cloaks. One leaned heavily on a staff for support. The other was dripping wet, and wheezing with every breath he took. A trail of blood ran from the door to where the two of them were standing, both with their heads bowed. The third wore a bright green tunic, comfortable trousers, and an odd-looking hat. “Come in, Magi. You’ve done well,” the man in green’s voice echoed around the room.
Magi entered. The door closed behind him without a sound and disappeared, leaving nothing but a blank wall. “Relax, young mage,” said the same man in a funny-looking hat. “Be at ease for now.”
Magi found his voice. “Who are you?” He did not lower his dagger yet.
The man in comfortable-looking trousers smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye—playful and mischievous at the same time. “Now come—come. Will you limp over and poke us with your little knife? How will that promote our conversation? And we have much to discuss.”
Magi already disliked this man. “You seem to know a fair bit about me. I’ll ask one mo
re time—who are you?” He stealthily sheathed the dagger back against his wrist, hidden within the folds of his loose-fitting robes.
“Oh, I know a fair bit and more.” He laughed lightly, as one might on a midsummer night without a care in the world.
Magi turned his attention to the men standing behind this queer fellow. “And who are you?”
The first one, bandaged and bleeding, said, “Krishnan.”
The second one, tattered and dripping, said, “My name is none of your concern.”
Magi narrowed his eyes at both. The odd-man, who appeared to be quite nimble, was shaking his head. “Such a lack of trust. Ah well. It is a Dark World, after all. Now boys, come stand here. I can see there won’t be much small talk amongst this group. I remember back when we could relax, have some wine, get to know one another, enjoy some stories. Now it’s all business. Nobody takes time to reflect and savor the moment, know what I mean?”
Magi looked at the man in the green tunic as if he had just sprouted a second head. “No, I’m sure we all have absolutely no idea what you mean.”
The man in the comfortable trousers sighed. But he was smiling, and his eyes still twinkled. He swept the odd-looking hat off his head with dramatic flair and bowed low before looking up. “I have many names in many different tongues. Some call me Destiny, some Fortune’s Song. But, I am a simple man, and I prefer the simplest moniker I am known by. You may call me Fatum, or Fate, if you wish. For that is what I am, and it is I who will bestow upon you the rank, privilege, and power that accompanies your new status as a True Mage.”
Queen Najalas
“So you wish to be an apprentice?” the Queen asked. “It is a stroke of Fate that we have great need for mages on the horizon—perhaps no more pressing a need than to accompany our would-be-Clerics on their quest for truth, faith, and knowledge of our Ancient God. Do you believe in Fate, young mage?” Queen Najalas fixed Kyle with a patient stare.
“I don’t really know, my Queen,” he replied, “I suppose it’s possible. But I believe in the science of my Art. I believe in making our own way in the world, and I believe that bad things can happen to good people and good things can happen to bad people. I’m not sure what my sister is doing, but I’ll gladly accompany her anywhere you need, your Majesty.”
The Queen smiled. She turned to Niku. “Will you have room to see this young mage accompanies you, his sister Kari, and Miss Sarah to Urthrax in two days?”
Kyle looked at Niku, somewhat hopefully. The old mage radiated power and knowledge. He was pale, with grey hair and a neatly trimmed goatee speckled heavily with grey. His eyes were kind, but also cunning. Kyle thought he must surely be at least 50 or older—a bit long in the tooth for this type of trip. Most men in his home village of Fostler didn’t live much past 60.
Kyle glanced at his sister, expecting her to be beaming. Instead she looked anxious, her legs crossed, nervously rubbing her hands while she looked at another True Mage close to the Queen, a lady wearing a brilliant red-orange hooded cloak, like a phoenix, that culminated at a point tight against her forehead. What’s on my sister’s mind?
Niku turned to his Queen. “Peter tells me we are on track to leave, and taking a few more with us should not be a problem. I’ll see that the proper preparations are made.”
“And Niku,” the Queen continued, “will you apprentice this young man? I do believe in Fate, and I cannot imagine his presence here is random. I would like you to take him under your wing.”
Niku bowed his head slightly, inadvertently shuffling his feet. “My Queen—there are so many worthy True Mages, I’m taking one such with me on this journey. Men with time to properly devote—”
“Excellent. I’m glad that is settled. Thank you, Niku,” the Queen said loudly, interrupting her head of Magic. “I trust you will find Kyle a worthy apprentice.”
Niku bowed his head more fully this time, and simply said, as much to himself as anyone else, “Consider it done.”
Kyle cleared his throat, somewhat loudly. “My Queen?” he asked. “If I may, I have one additional request.”
The Queen looked at Kyle shrewdly. “Have I not granted you enough? You are reunited with your sister on a meaningful quest and shall finish your training underneath the greatest mage alive on Tenebrae.”
I hope you are right about that last part. Kyle smiled a bit sheepishly. “I’m very grateful, but there is, ah, one small additional thing. You see, I gave my word to the owner of The Last Call tavern, promising her a better shipment of ale in exchange for a kindness. I don’t suppose you could, er, maybe ship a few barrels of your better stuff to her? I would find a way to pay for them…”
Jonathon looked at Kyle as if baby rabbits were playing in his hair. Niku raised one grey eyebrow curiously at his new apprentice. Kari put her head in her hands. But the Queen smiled, then laughed. Loudly. Soon the entire audience chamber was laughing. Kyle knew he had a foolish grin on his face, but he somehow couldn’t wipe the impish smile away.
Finally, the Queen mercifully silenced the commotion with a passing wave of her hand. “That must have been some kindness. Jonathon, see that three barrels of my finest ale are carted over to Lady Velvet. We wouldn’t want her coming after our newest mage for what she feels is her due, now would we? And Kyle, I do hope that is all you need at the moment. There are days I’d rather give you three lifetimes worth of training with Niku than a single mug of my finest drink…and this is fast becoming one of those days.”
Magi
After speaking quietly to the other two mages, Fate waved his hand and made a door appear next to him. The two mages departed through it, and the door disappeared just as quickly. This left Magi alone with the odd-looking man with the bright green tunic, loose pants, and a funny hat.
Fate walked over to him. “So. Magi Blacksmooth. I always knew you’d come.” Fate smiled smugly at his joke. “You did well with your tests, although I must admit, your handling of poor Ragor was a bit nasty, don’t you think?”
Magi was still sizing up this man. He certainly didn’t feel like making small talk and shrugged. “He had it coming. For many things.”
“Ah. I am so glad that you have elected yourself High Judge. I feel so much safer now.” Fate mockingly grabbed the hat off his head and wiped his brow before heading back to the dais and plopping back down on the ornate chair.
“Where is this place?” Magi asked, trying to change the subject.
“Why, this is my home. Fate’s palace! Do you like it?” He asked.
“It’s a room, high up somewhere. I suppose. Can we just get on with this?” Magi asked.
“Well, I’d say it’s a fair bit more than just ‘a room,’ but seeing as you have someplace to be, I suppose we should move along. After all, you did pass your tests.” Fate tipped his hat slightly in approval. “Though it was a bit touch-and-go at the end there. Couldn’t resist trying on the ring, could you?” He smiled, and his eyes darted down to look at his arm, still hanging in the sling.
“What was that ring? It certainly was no ring of magical protection!” Magi scowled.
“Oh, but it was! It was a ring of magical protection from you. Quite clever, wouldn’t you say?”
Magi wasn’t sure whether it was his arm or Fate’s enthusiasm that was causing his head to pound, but he just cocked his head and said, “Yes, those tests were…clever indeed. I can’t imagine how lesser mages cope with such a series of trials.”
“Lesser mages would not have been pushed in the same way. You see, I develop the tests, and I evaluate you in two ways: against my own objective criteria, and against your own potential. That is why it is a nearly impossible test.” His eyes twinkled like a schoolboy sharing a wicked secret.
“What do you mean?” Magi asked.
“It’s quite simple, actually. Every mage must have a certain level of magical competence, a certain physical prowess, a certain amount of persistence, et cetera, et cetera. You cannot reach the door at the top without these things.
But the true test of the Staircase is to pit you against your own potential. Your weaknesses are tested to see how weak you really are. Your strengths are tested to see how strong you really are. In your case, I wanted to see how deep you would dig to tap into your considerable well of energy. It was encouraging to see you not give up, Magi. And furthermore…” The lithe man in the bright green tunic seemed to bound from area to area. He fetched two goblets and a jug of wine. “I thought it prudent to show you that without your magic, even the mighty Magi Blacksmooth can be torn to shreds by a lone wolf. Drink, mage? You’ll find no better on Tenebrae.”
Magi did not think that lesson was prudent, but he nodded silently. He was terribly thirsty. “So, you brought Ragor against me? What would have happened had he won?” He sipped the wine; it was as delicious as Fate had promised.
“Then I would be having this discussion with him, of course. But I knew you’d win.” Returning to his chair, he winked across at Magi nonchalantly as he drained his goblet.
“What else do you know?” Magi stretched a bit, trying to get comfortable, but his thigh and arm were still throbbing. The wine helped dull the pain, however.
“I know much, Magi. As my name implies, I have a hand in connecting everyone together. Your prophets—the ones who study that arcane branch of your Art—they draw their information from me. It is my visions that fill your heads and theirs when you spoke to Elsa and Pilanthas. A kind word from me causes a good day for you. A nasty word from me spills your milk, so to speak.” He lounged on his throne in the most leisurely manner possible, draping a leg over the arm of his chair.
“So what can you tell me about this Staff I’m supposed to find?” Magi leaned forward and offered Fate an arrogant little smile of his own.
Fate sat up. “I know where it is.” He cocked his head and returned Magi’s arrogant smile with great flair as he drained his goblet. “Alas, that I can not tell you.”
Magi stood up. “Can’t or won’t? Just how powerful can you really be?”
In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) Page 46