In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (32 page)

She detested having to kill people without a contract, considering it a waste of her talent, so she preferred not to attract attention
in the first place.  Fortunately, her craft had taught her how to disguise herself quite well.  With a few modifications, Veronica-the-Beauty transformed herself into Vernon-the-Nobody.  It was not the first time she had chosen to travel in the guise of a man.  With her height and athletic build, it wasn’t too difficult. 
It’s not as if anyone will get close enough to check.

She was pleased that she had not had to waste her energy eliminating anyone since she left Barnabus the half-dwarf.  With her supplies and the map, she stared up at the rocky slopes she approached.  She was well into the foothills of the Crystal Mountains now, above the tree line.  The path she had followed, if
one could call it that, had pretty much ended.  She looked for the “smooth stone,” which the map indicated was the mine’s entrance.

Nothing was smooth at this height; all around her were sharp peaks, cliff faces, and sheer drops.  However, there was one stone ahead that was about the size of a large bear. It was oval,
and lay on its side.  It did not look out of place on the mountainside, that’s for sure.  It was, however, about the only thing truly smooth that she could see.

She walked over and smiled.  She leaned her back up against the smooth stone and looked at the mountain wall in front of her.  It was all rock.  She walked up to the side of the mountain and put her hand up to
touch the rock face.  A cold wind stirred, blowing from the rock itself.  Moving closer, she pressed her hand up against the mountain.

It sunk right through rock face into nothingness beyond…the rock wall in front of this stone was an illusion, just as the map had said.

Lighting the first of what she suspected would be many torches, she plunged through the perfect illusion and into the darkness of the mine.

~Magi~

After
a couple hours of walking in silence, and now well through Elf’s Bane
Pass, Kyle tried again to talk to Magi.  “Can we talk?” he asked as he fell in next to his best friend.

“Talk about what?”  Magi continued
strolling effortlessly along a few paces behind Marik.  Kyle considered his best friend.  He seemed to have grown, if that was possible.  He thought he looked almost as big as Ragor, but far more fit.  The wind blew back his hair, which fell in a wave about his shoulders. 
No wonder my sister fancies him…

“About you.  Something’s bothering you.  I know.  Talk to me, Magi.  What’s going on?  I’ve never seen you unload on someone like that. 
It wasn’t more than a few months ago that I thought you’d kill Ragor for doing what he’d done to Tarsh.”  Kyle stopped short of saying what he really wanted to say.

“I don’t know.  I just want to meet this
Elf and get back to school.  This process is getting on my nerves, and the thought of walking all the way back to Brigg puts me in a bad mood.”  Magi turned to look at Kyle, as if to say,
I’m done.

Kyle, however, pushed further.  “Magi, are you sure it’s not something else?  Are you positive you can’t put your finger on anything that’s upset you?  You don’t quite seem, well, yourself.”  He paused, then plunged ahead.  “I know something’s nibbling at you.  I saw in my own proph
—”  His mouth completely seized up.  He couldn’t speak.

“You’re mumbling.  What did you see?”  Magi seemed to only be half-paying attention to his friend.

“P—” Kyle started to cough and had to take a swig of water. 
So, they mean it when they say we’re forbidden to speak about our prophecy.  Very well. 
“That thing we’re travelling to Shith for—you know why we’re going to see Pilanthas?”

“Yes, my prophe
cy.  What are you getting at?”  Again, Magi was uncharacteristically annoyed.

Kyle tried to talk around it
, but couldn’t get a word out.  His tongue was simply not cooperating.  He finally gave up.  “Never mind.  I just wanted you to know that if you ever wanted to talk about anything, you know you can tell me anything.  We’ve been friends forever, Magi.”

Magi nodded and kept walking in silence.  Kyle, however, couldn’t shake the images he had seen during his time with the Ol’ Shakoor, which had been
only a month ago, but felt like a lifetime  now…

As he cast a simple spell, the Ol’ Shakoor “lifted” Kyle’s prophecy, taking the fingerprints of his magic.  Her golden eyes sparkled, and she weaved a series of images out of the air between them.  Kyle saw:

…Magi, with his auburn
hair flowing and his white eyes blazing, wielding a large staff…

…Kari, beaten, angry, and terrified, staring at Magi as he walks away
…

…Kyle himself, falling away, looking up at his best friend
…

…And then—the face of a
man—smiling.  It was a horrible and beautiful face.  Handsome and wicked, flawless white teeth, black eyes, and black hair that fell to his shoulders.  It was the most attractive face he had ever seen, male or female, but the smile was joyless.  Rather than spreading mirth, when this face smiled, it only spread dread.

Elsa, the Ol’ Shakoor, ended their session and brought Kyle back into moment, the wispy images disappearing like smoke
on a windy night.  She looked aghast, but Kyle noticed how quickly she regained her composure when she saw him staring at her.

He desperately wanted to know what this meant.  None of this ‘fit’ with Magi.  Or himself, for that matter.  The Ol’ Shakoor, who called forth all these storylines and had seen them all as well, was painfully cryptic.  “Many possible paths for you, Kyle.  But it is clear to me that your destiny is linked to the young man outside who awaits my audience next.  It would appear your friend
—and therefore you—will be at the epicenter of many momentous events.”

“So
, I should forget about climbing the Staircase?”  Kyle asked. 
The whole point of this foolishness was to warn would-be mages of dangers they could avoid if they pursued a different path.
  He could almost hear Marik’s voice inside his own head.

“Why would you draw that conclusion?”  The Ol’ Shakoor asked.

“I saw myself dying.  Isn’t that the type of warning that Quixatalor intended to dissuade certain magic-users from pursuing the life of a True Mage?”  Kyle’s voice was soft, and almost crestfallen.

Elsa stood and walked to the young mage.  Her hair looked like
molten honey, and she smelled like spring.  “Kyle.  Your future is a challenge to unravel.  I have seen the futures of many, many mages.  Almost all of them are more straightforward than what we saw.  Dying?  I saw you fall, and I saw your friend close by, but we could not see more than that, could we?  While it is true that all must die, I can’t say that what we saw represented your death, nor would I associate the Staircase with that event.  I’ve shown mages a life of heartache after attempting the Staircase.  In your case, it appears as if the Staircase has precious little to do with your future, good or ill.  So, climb if you wish.”

Kyle’s face brightened, and he couldn’t help but hug the Ol’ Shakoor, who smiled warmly and returned the young
man’s hug.  As they walked toward the door, one thing still bothered Kyle.  “I do have one more question, if I may, Ol’ Shakoor.”

“Yes?”

“Who was that man we saw at the end of my prophecy?  I’ve never been more scared in my life.”  Kyle stopped and stared at Elsa. 
Those golden eyes are wild.

“Our greatest threat.  It appears an ancient evil has taken an interest in
Tenebrae.  We live in a Dark World, and he means to stake his claim.”

“What can we do?”  Kyle asked.

“Pray that he is not the only one with renewed interest in our world.  Pray.”  She smiled curiously at Kyle and showed him the way out, knowing he was leaving with more questions than when he entered.

~Magi~

As the sun
started to set, the sky began to darken into that pre-twilight color that Magi always loved.  Today, however, he just wanted to meet this damn ancient Elf and be done with it all.  He had already moved past Marik, easily out striding him as Pilanthas’s large home, interwoven with several living trees, came into view.  Without waiting for Marik or Kyle, or even saying so much as a word, he walked up to the doorway and knocked.

Marik put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder as they approached and
simply said, “We should wait here.”  Both were somewhat out of breath from the pace Magi had set for the last hour.  They found a comfortable spot near a garden, and took a rare opportunity to study.

Magi was not the least bit winded
, however.  He was impatient.  A young Elf opened the door and smiled gently at the mage.  “Please, come in Magi.  I’ve been expecting you.  Make yourself at home.”  He gestured to a simple yet comfortable looking chair in the main room, while he picked up three empty mugs and walked to the kitchen, returning with a teapot and two glasses.  “May I offer you some tea?”

“Where is Pilanthas?”  Magi dispensed with the small talk. 
I have walked from Brigg, been capsized and nearly drowned, almost died of pneumonia or worse, saw my friend almost captured by gypsies, and now I am supposed to waste time on a servant?  I think not.

“You are speaking to him.  I am most interested in your prophe
cy as well, I assure you.”  The Elf poured Magi some tea and set it down near him, not bothering to wait for him to ask.  He sat down and looked at the young mage.

“I don’t believe you.  Elsa had an ageless look about her as well, but I could sense her power.  You
, I sense nothing.”

“Are your skills so advanced that you can sense everything you need to know?  If so,
then why speak to me?”  The Elf sipped his tea and smiled at his young guest.  “But be at ease—you are not the first person to question my identity upon meeting me.  In fact, you are not the first person to do so
today.
  Fortunately, I am prepared to prove my identity so as to put you at ease.  It will do us no good if you do not trust me.”

Magi narrowed his eyes.  He took a deep breath and looked around the room for the first time
.  There were books everywhere. 
This reminds me of the Library at Gaust, where I recovered the Scroll of Tralatus for Marik…where Lionel was killed for no good reason.
  He returned his gaze to the Elf, and allowed an awkward silence to grow between them.  Then:  “Very well.  Prove yourself.”

The young
Elf smiled and stood, approaching Magi slowly as he spoke.  “You are Magi Blacksmooth, a gifted young mage and a ward of Marik, a True Mage.  You have excelled at magic your whole life, and travel here with your best friend, Kyle.  You’ve seen death along the way, and you’ve lost your father’s ring as well.  You exhausted the good prophetess Elsa, the Ol’ Shakoor, who failed to discern your prophecy and who referred you to me.  And, when you cast your spells, you have a level of awareness unknown to other men.  So cast a spell and use this gift of heightened insight to see for yourself what you make of me.”  He paused, now standing mere feet away from Magi.  “Shall we continue to discuss your past, or shall we move forward with a discussion of your future?”

Magi called forth his magic to cast a simple light spell.  He cared little for brightening the room, but wanted to take the
Elf’s advice and see what he could pick up in those scant moments before he called forth his magic.

As time slowed in that familiar way, he did pick up some things.  He heard Marik talking to Kyle in the garden.  He smelled old books in another room
—the kind of books that fell apart when opened, if one wasn’t exceedingly careful.  The fragrance of the tea briefly caught his attention.  But most forcefully was the sense of wisdom that poured off this Elf standing in front of him.  He couldn’t perceive it with his five normal senses, but he could
feel
it
with his heightened awareness.  This was Pilanthas.

A small light globe illuminated the main room, causing a shadow to fall behind the
Elf.  Pilanthas smiled as Magi’s eyes grew wider.  “Now, if you are satisfied, may we begin?”

Magi nodded.

~Queen Najalas~

“That
Elf said many disturbing things, my Queen,” Simon said as they rode back toward Rookwood, along the edge of the great Elven forest Filestalas
. 
They had hung back slightly on their mounts, allowing the rest of their small retinue to travel in front and out of earshot.  “He spoke plainly.”

He approves of
Pilanthas, after all. 
Queen Najalas knew her foremost bodyguard was always impressed when others could put forth their thoughts without a lot of fluff.  “Yes.  We must council when we return to the Rookwood.  I would have your thoughts now, however.”  The Queen turned her head to look at her bodyguard, her advisor, her friend.