In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (53 page)

Magi stepped forward, closer to his father, and sat back down.  “I have one more question, old man.  A selfish one.”

“All of your questions and actions have been selfish, but so be it.  I’m hardly in position to judge.”  He licked his lips after another sip, trying to pace himself now that the jug of good wine was halfway done.

Magi just glared contemptuously at his father.  “Yes, the fire and the wine were completely selfish.  You don’t know me, old man, and you chose not to fight for the chance
to know me
.  Regardless, I have one final question.  As I plan to Climb, I want to know how you lost your eyesight.”

“Son,
you are planning to climb so soon.  Are you sure?”  Tomas asked.  “You only get one chance at this.  You are only eighteen—what is your rush?”

“You wouldn’t understand, and
even if you could, there is much I can’t tell you anyway,” Magi replied.

“Boy, I understand more than you will
ever know!  I tolerate your insults, your bitterness.  Perhaps I deserve them.  But not your arrogance!  You may not care how I view you, but consider how the
world
will view you.  Just this once—will you not confide in me?”  Tomas raised his voice and for the first time spoke with authority, sounding fatherly.

Magi was unmoved.  If anything, he almost sneered at the idea of confiding anything to this
useless shell of a man.  “All you need to know, old man, is that I’m ready.  Waiting another year or another day adds nothing to my preparedness, it only delays the inevitable.  Besides, I have a score to settle, and time waits for no man.  Now, I ask again, will you tell me what happened to you on the Staircase that cost you your sight?”

Suddenly the milky-white eyes of Tomas Blacksmooth got wide.  “Ahh.  I see.  Perhaps for the first time in years, I see.  Son, you are following in my footsteps.  You, too, seek to become a True Mage to take on Marik, the man who stole you from me.  Oh, son!”  He moaned
, anguish pouring out of him in a flood.  “Magi, do not make the exact same mistake as I made!  Look at me!  I tried to climb for all the wrong reasons, and lost everything.  This is a mistake, my son.  I should never have given you that book!”

Magi stood up, though his father could not tell the difference
, and screamed, “I WILL CLIMB!  You are not so wise a judge to tell me whether I am ready or not!  I KNOW!  You are nothing but a waste of a man!  You are a coward at heart!  For the last time, tell me what you faced!”

Tomas seemed to know exactly where Magi was standing, for he looked up at his face.  After an awkward pause, he said simply “It was a serpent.  On the third step, I walked through a door.  In the center of the room was a table and chair.  The floors, walls, and ceiling were black and white, in a checkerboard pattern.  The only object in the room was the table.  I sat down, and on the table were three glass figurines. 
Inanimate
objects.”  He spit the word out bitterly and took a swig of wine.  “They were beautiful pieces of colored glass—the last things I ever saw.  They were each about this big.” He held his hands about eight inches apart.  “One figurine was a lion, the one in the middle looked like a bat, and the one on my right was a serpent.  To this day I can’t remember looking to see if there was a door on the other side of the room—I only remember being fascinated by the glass figurines.  Had I but left them alone!  But they were beautiful, and I have always been drawn to objects.  I reached out and picked up the figurine of the serpent.  It was all different colors of glass, representing the different colors of the scales, with rubies for eyes.  As soon as I held it up to my face for a closer look, it began to wriggle.  It was a spitting snake, son, and it spit in my eyes, causing the blindness.  I flung it away from me and screamed in pain, trying to cast a fire spell in the direction that I threw the snake, which failed completely.  I don’t know whether I killed it or not, my eyes were burning and if the snake died, it died silently.  I stumbled across the room, looking for a wall behind me and the door leading back down.  I found it, and began to climb back down, feeling my way along, until I reached the original doorway I opened.  That snake was the last thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, son.  It was also the first time I had ever been spit upon; last night was the second.”

Magi resisted the urge to slap his father for bringing up the spitting yet again. 
I will not apologize evermore to this fool. 
He pressed on.  “Why didn’t you prepare yourself for a trap—have your shield spells already cast?”

Tomas shook his head.  “Easy for one who has studied the use of magic in battle to second guess.  I was tired, Magi.  I was constantly being drained just keeping your ring concealed, and while a shield spell for
you
might be child’s play—for me it was work.  But it doesn’t matter whether I had the depth of power to keep drawing on for defensive spells.  The reality is I never even considered it.  I thought the figurines were keys, maybe game pieces or something.  Perhaps a riddle.  It never occurred to me
not
to pick them up and examine them more closely.

“The Staircase is insidious,
Magi.  It
knows
your strengths and weaknesses, son.  To me, it seems foolishness for you to open the door a day after you learn the spell.  For a chance at what?  Revenge?  I would spare you my fate even if you spit on me for the rest of my days.  I love you, son.”  He put the wine down and held his arms out to Magi.

Magi just stood there.  Something seemed to stir in him, like a tingly sensation that lasted a moment and was gone.  He swallowed forcefully; his throat was dry.  Finally he simply said, “Goodbye, Father.”

With that, he lost himself in the magic, calling forth his inner power, at one with his Art.  As time slowed, he thought he heard footsteps outside, and could smell
clean
, like his father could.  He also heard the distant squeaks of a mouse buried deep within the rotten walls of this ramshackle building, fighting for crumbs.  The air stirred slightly as he felt his father’s robes rustle, as he clumsily stood up behind Magi and the fire from across the room.

Soon the magic poured out and
a doorframe began to glow out of thin air in the corner of the room.  The outline formed, the handle, the hinges, and silently the door swung open, revealing a flight of stairs leading up into darkness.  With a final look back at the wide, blind eyes of his father, Magi reached for the door and plunged through it, shutting it behind him.

~Veronica~

Veronica entered the home of Tomas Blacksmooth as the last traces of the
portal that had formed out of nowhere disappeared.  She glimpsed a black cloak disappear into thin air, followed by the door the figure had walked through.

“Who
’s there?  What do you want?”  Tomas yelled.  “Get out of here—this is my home!”

Veronica controlled her emotions, despite her frustration at having arrived too late.  “Where is your
guest, good sir?” she asked sweetly.

Tomas, taken aback by the female’s voice, relaxed
slightly.  “He is gone.  Who wants to know?”

Veronica didn’t even bother to answer.  She silently came up behind Tomas and slit his throat like pulling a bow across a violin. 
Another successful contract,
she mused lazily until her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a mouse squeaking from underneath a pile of trash somewhere in the room.

~Kyle~

“Well, what can you do, son?” asked a rather bulbous woman who was probably far younger than she looked.  Her face was hard, her teeth were crooked, her hair was thin, and her manner direct.  Kyle had no idea he was ‘off the beaten path,’ but he figured his best chance for a warm meal and dry bed was to find a place that was, well, more
common
looking.  Near the outskirts of the capitol city, well in the shadows of the massive castle,
The Last Call
seemed to fit the bill.

It was
common, all right—a total dump.

Kyle stood at the door, talking to a nameless woman, offering to work off a night’s stay.  “I can clean,” he offered.

The rather round woman squirted a thin jet of spit near his feet.  “Bah—why scare off the regulars with a thorough cleaning.  What else can you do for me?”

Kyle began thinking
—he had hoped his cleaning spell would be an ace for him.  “Uh, how about a magic show?” 
It’s only one night.  I hope.

She looked at the fit, albeit thin magician in front of her and shook her head.  “My regs won’t likely take to a magic show, and I’m not about to waste my time advertising.  Plenty of two-bit charlatans running around this hellhole
already, we can scare up a magic act anytime we want.  What else you got?”

Kyle was running out of options, and he was getting cold.  He needed a fire, and soon, if h
e was going to be outside again, but he didn’t want to give up on a roof and a bed quite yet.  He looked past her longingly at the sight of a large fire pit already warming the common room. 
So much for offering to build her a magical fire.
  He turned over his hands and said, “What do you need?”

The owner of
The Last Call
took a deep breath, causing her overstuffed, greasy blouse to bulge.  Though she smiled at him, her face did not improve.  “I’ll tell you what I need.  I need you to convince the Miller to quit sending me his weak ale.  My regulars expect an honest drink, and what I’ve been serving ain’t fit to get pigs drunk.  Go take your fancy pants over to the Miller, and magic me up a few barrels of decent ale.  You’ll stay free for as long as you want if you can handle that.  Might even see what else you can handle,” she added wickedly.

Kyle took a step back and sighed.  “Very well.  Let me
, er, see what I can do.  What is the Miller’s name, and to whom shall I attribute this grievance?”

The lady cocked her head and looked at Kyle strangely.  “Miller’s name is Ronbar.  As for grievance, I guess you want my name.  Tell Ronbar that Lady Velvet has an issue with his brew.  Say you’re for Lady Velvet, and
that she’s tired of paying good coin for wastewater.  You go tell Ronbar all this and get
The Last Call
the kind of drink they serve down by that fancy castle.  I know he sends them all his good stuff—I know it!  Ain’t fair, giving us the dregs.  You go tell Ronbar that Lady Velvet is not pleased.  And NOT A COPPER MORE—you hear me wizard?  I’ll not be raising prices on my loyal regs.  I won’t do it!”  She sent another perfect jet stream of light brown spit toward his other foot.  Luckily, Kyle was still quite agile and easily avoided it.

“Um, yes.  Ok.  Got it.  I’ll go talk to Ronbar on your behalf.” 
Surely there’s another inn closer to town with less drama.  Surely?

She stuck out a meaty hand with five sausage-looking fingers
at its end.  “Deal, then?”

Kyle grabbed Lady Velvet’s hand, a little nervously.  “Deal.”

~Malenec~

“Genevieve, you steer us too close to the cliffs.  The trees atop those cliffs have eyes. Elvish eyes.  And while I don’t care about their eyes, I do care about their bows.  Have my army move us away from Filestelas and toward the heart of the Strait.  A barrage of flaming arrows would be a chore to deal with, and an unnecessary risk, my dear.”  Malenec smiled at his favorite creature, Genevieve.  And though she had no more leadership skills than a piece of rotting wood, he had begun to enjoy speaking to her like a lieutenant.  Of course, Genevieve issued no commands, but Malenec preferred to control his army
through
her.  He had become quite comfortable with these one-sided conversations.

Silently giving thanks to Kuth-Cergor, he had Genovieve tug on the wheel while also instructing the seventy or so zombies holding onto
Godsail
in the water to swim her further out to sea.  The power of his flock of swimmers was the equal of a strong wind that always blew in a favorable direction.

The first arrows struck the mass of undulating flesh atop the water just as the boat itself drifted out of range.  Malenec looked up at the sporadic arrows launched from the edge of the woods high atop the cliffs overlooking the Strait of Holstine. 
Certainly not an army barrage.  More like sentries issuing warning shots.  But no fire.

“Ah, Genevieve.  The Elves send us their greetings.  Perhaps we should also say hello back to them as well, no?  The Queen and her southern allies can only dream of what the coming of Kuth-Cergor portends.  Shall we give them a glimpse?”  He looked at the undead corpse of Genevieve, her face perpetually rotting.  She just stood there at the wheel, expressionless.  “I couldn’t agree more.”

He moved to the rear of his ship and knelt on the main deck, watching the cliffs get farther and farther away as
Godsail
powered against the current out to sea.  “Kuth-Cergor, all-mighty and all-powerful that you are, I beseech you to sheer the edge of the cliff wall off and into the sea.  Let your enemies tumble into the swirling water as simple food for your holy army.  Your will in all things be done!”