In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (19 page)

The Elvish Chieftain stood and walked to the fountain, placing his hand atop the woman holding the pitcher.  “I, however, have always kept an open mind, I suppose.  We worship the forest Gods, the Seasonal Gods, and also pray to the Gods of Weather.  And yet…” he trailed off.

He turned back towards them.  “You are wise to consult Pilanthas—he is older than any Elf living today.  He will give you clarity on these matters.  But there is one more piece of information you should hear, my Queen.”  He nodded to his daughter. 
I was wondering why you included her in our discussion.

“My Queen,” she started, head bowed.  Looking up, she smiled sadly at the Queen, her almond-shaped, light brown eyes seemed to staring off into the distance behind her.  She shook her head and focused on her Queen.  “It is with great sadness that I tell you that our hospitality was taken advantage of recently.  And we have paid for it with the theft of my amulet, the Purple Sun.”

The Queen looked at the young woman with a mix of empathy and confusion.  “I am sorry to hear that, Lady Elyn.  The jewel was beautiful; I remember seeing it on you when last you visited our court at Rookwood.  It is quite possibly one of the most famous jewels in Elvidor, if not all of Tenebrae.  I will gladly issue a bounty for the thief, if that is your wish?” she offered, uncertain of the relevance given the weight of their discussion.

“Yes, thank you.  We have dispatched our own hunters for this thief, but a Queen’s bounty will garner far more attention.  Alas, there is more to this event than a stolen gem.  You see the Purple Sun was more than just a jewel, your Majesty.  It is also a key.  An ancient key.”

“A key to what?” asked Simon.

“A key to unlocking the Alchemist’s Challenge.  In the hands of someone with knowledge, that jewel is the final part of a formula that will transform common metal to gold, though it is destroyed in the process.  We Elves have kept the jewel—and its secret—for uncounted generations.  If this True Mage Xaro has studied ancient religions, I fear these events are somehow connected.  A True Warrior/Mage, building an army with unlimited gold in this Dark World will be a terrible adversary, my Queen.”

Chapter 7:  The Price Men Pay

~Herodius~

The day’s work concluded like most days on the Uncharted Isles.  Warm, tropical winds kissed the beaches and blew the smell of the sea into the tiny hamlets and farming villages that formed the communities on these fertile islands.  Long ago, settlers left the mainland, some to avoid the realities of war, some to avoid the realities of peace, and many in the hope of owning their own land.  The chain of islands were tightly grouped, maybe two dozen in total, and all were populated by subsistence farmers, or community farmers in some cases.  Surplus food was bartered and traded for livestock and some other essentials, mostly farming equipment.  The tight-knit community was a simple life, free of Kings or Lords or Elders.  Simple rules governed their existence, and a panel of nine wise men and woman were chosen on each island to settle disputes.  Thievery was virtually non-existent.  Over generations, the population exploded as families grew to increase the number of hands available to work the land.  Now more than a hundred thousand men, women, and children made the islands their home.  Herodius Cromwell was one of them.

Tall, broad, and chiseled, Herodius had the physique of a man accustomed to working the land.  The islanders had no definitive race; Dwarves, Men, and Elves all made up the population, and over time the generations had blended together to make distinguishing characteristics rare.  His curly brown hair was decidedly human.  But the slightly reddish-brown hue to his skin was unmistakably Elvish, and the barrel chest suggested some Dwarvish as well.   At well over six feet, his height could have been anything.  Some teased him that he was even part Ogre.

He lived in a nice-sized hut that he had made himself, along with his wife, Maria, and their five children; three sons and two daughters.  The oldest boy was twelve; his youngest son was two, with the rest falling in between.  He came in from the fields like any other day—dirty and tired, but proud of an honest day’s work.  Today he had helped one of his neighbors repair a small pen for his hogs.  His hut and his fields were only a half-mile from the beach, so he often took a walk down to the shoreline after dinner to watch the fading sun, hoping to see a green flash.  His oldest son was capable of watching the kids for a few minutes, allowing Herodius some quiet time with his beloved wife, Maria.

The sun fell, and the briefest flash of green light splashed across the horizon.  “Look, Maria!  It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?”  He reached over and kissed his wife.

“It is, Herodius.  I wouldn’t change anything for the world.”  She gazed up at him through her blue eyes, honey-colored hair falling clean but wild about her shoulders.  “What a blessing to be here.  Here with you…” and she kissed him back.

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 w
ill 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?”