In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (36 page)

“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.

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.