In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (59 page)

No records of this spell having been cast exist.  But its effect could not be mistaken.  In seeking to tame the wicked and change their hearts, he created a transformative spell that flips a man’s moral center.  Those who were selfish would be more selfless; those that were mean would be kind; those that had no conscience would grow one.  The problem was that the opposite was also true.  Those prone to patience would be reckless; those prone to giving would be takers.  Those who were loving would now hate.  The genius of Quixatalor was that he created the one spell that could change a person’s heart.  Not a form of bodily possession
—but a true change in one’s character.

There is no exorcism or reversal spell.  It is said in other writings that he tried to find a way to build a spell that would undo what he had invented, but he died of old age long before the spell was finished.  The last known writings of the Greatest of All Mages, scrawled in a weak hand, was simply, ‘Forgive Me, Dymetra.’

If this spell even exists, look for it in a scroll.  It is unlikely that Quixatalor would have committed it to a book before his death.  This is likely a legend, but if it is not, you will wish that it were, should the spell be cast upon you.

In the margin, next to the passage was a note written in Marik’s hand: 
The Great Library.

Magi shut the book and slid it into
his pack.  It was not the last book in Marik’s library he took that day.

~Kari~

Rebecca was the last to leave.  The Queen’s mages had wrapped Kyle up, covering the hole in his chest.  Kari was finally alone inside a large, clean room where members of court were sometimes treated for illness or injury.  A relic of past ages where wars were more common, the room could probably hold fifty injured knights.  Today it held only one body: Kyle’s.  Though she never said she wanted to be alone, they all took the hint, for which Kari was grateful.

She stared down at his dusty blond hair, pushing it gently aside as it fell across his forehead, just like it always did.  She was coming out of the shock.  Focusing her thoughts, she knelt down beside her fallen brother, and prayed for the first time.

“Dymetra, I don’t know if you can hear me or not,” she began.  “But I am struggling to understand why you would let this happen.  Is it not enough that I chose to seek you out?  If you truly exist, why would you let my brother die?  How could you let Magi do this?  He follows a dark path, Dymetra.  You have taken him from me, my teacher, and now my brother.”  Her voice started to break.  “What do you want from me?”

There was no sound in the room, save for her choked off sobs.  She closed her eyes and continued.

“It should be ME that is chasing after Magi.  Who is Sarah to go chasing after him?  My God, I ask that justice come to
him for this.  I pray that you move your hand against Magi Blacksmooth.”

Kari opened her eyes and looked around.  She saw, felt, and heard nothing.  She bowed her head further.

“God—I am angry.  I am angry…and scared.  I don’t know what to do.  I can’t hear you, Dymetra.”  She shook her head, eyes still closed, and a trickle of tears sliding down her cheek.  “I don’t even know what I’m doing.  Please show me a sign, something.  ANYTHING.”

She waited a long moment in silence, staring at her brother, the walls, the rows and rows of empty beds.  Nothing moved, nothing stirred.

Kari slumped forward and began to cry in earnest, burying her face in a pillow next to her brother, just sobbing. 
Surely a real cleric would do better.

Standing up, Kari wiped her face.  “My God, perhaps I am not worthy of your attention.  Perhaps you have more important things to do than worry about sending me signs.  But I have one final request, Dymetra.  Please, God, let me find you!  I need to know the truth.  Protect me and bless this quest, Dymetra, so that your chosen cleric will find you.”

She took a final look at her brother, who was lying there peacefully.  She closed her eyes and exhaled before tearing herself away to leave.  She had final preparations to complete before they left…if she could bring herself to do it.

~Veronica~

Veronica heard a group of men approaching long before she saw them.  Their loud voices carried down the
extended hallway long before she glimpsed them.  With the practiced skill of a Master Assassin, she strained her hearing to pick out the words over the heavy footfalls of several armed men.  Her sore muscles, taut from being completely still, ached as she silently unfastened her blowgun from her wrist.

“Her brother is dead?” said a voice.

“Yes.  I saw the spell pass clear through his chest, Admiral.” 
The voice of Simon.

“About an hour ago?  Where is Kari?” 
Strongiron’s voice!

“She is mourning in the Hall of Injury.  There is no spell to save him, my friend,” Simon said.

The footfalls seemed to indicate only three men, but she couldn’t yet see the approach.  Suddenly they stopped, just out of view.  “Anything else?” asked Peter, the Admiral.  Veronica dipped her dart in a small vial of poison she carried in a pouch and loaded her blowgun.

“I believe there will be two less passengers this afternoon, unless we change our plans with the Queen.”

“Two?  Kyle and Kari, I presume?” asked Strongiron.

“Not Kari—she is still planning on joining you, I believe.  Miss Sarah is the other one.  She has left court, presumably to find this mage who killed Kyle,” said Simon.  He then added, “It was an odd departure.”

“Hmm.  It was an odd arrival as well.  I have said openly before that I have been unsure about our fixation with these old Gods.  I thought perhaps we had found someone in Paragatha.  No matter.  Niku will have his hands full safe guarding Kari and Rebecca as it stands—”

“And Phillip,” Peter interrupted, apparently trying to lighten the moment.  It seemed to fall a little flat.

“Yes, and Phillip,” said Strongiron, simply.  “Watching Miss Sarah, though easy on the eyes, would be just another distraction from their purpose in Urthrax.”

Easy on the eyes…
Veronica smiled, bringing the blowgun to her red lips.  The three men resumed their long walk toward the sentries guarding the doors to the Queen’s chamber.  She could now see Simon was in front, with Peter closest to Veronica, and Strongiron next to him on the far side of the hallway. 
Not ideal.

They came closer. 
Nearly in range…now
.  She blew the dart straight at Strongiron’s neck.

“Hail Captain!  Hail General!  Hail Admiral!”  The sentries called out, and the three men raised their left arms in unison, elbows bent, with gloved fists, returning the salute.

The dart struck Strongiron…in his raised forearm, and fell noisily to the floor, bouncing harmlessly off his gauntlet.

Veronica did not waste another second.  A puff of black smoke filled the back of the hallway in front of the door to the Queen’s chambers where they were all standing, and she heard the sound of steel sliding out of a scabbard.  Someone yelled “Assassin!”  Another person yelled “Balcony!”  Veronica was a blur.

Having been in Rookwood as a guest while professing to be an acolyte of Dymetra, she knew her way around.  She knew Simon would raise the alarm and shut down the castle as soon as he could.  She took the quickest path through the castle she knew, and used more black smoke to convince people there was a fire inside the castle.  She kept throwing her voice and yelled “Fire, fire!  Inside Rookwood, Fire!”  Soon people were beginning to panic and run everywhere, heightening the chaos. 
When everyone is running, a running lady does not stand out…

She saw the gates leading outside the castle just as the call rang out to lower them.  People were confused and looking scared.  Veronica shouted, “We’ll be burned alive!  Let us out!”  She ducked into an alcove, pretending to look for another way, but dumped the rest of her powder, creating thick, heavy black smoke that billowed out of the alcove into the throng heading toward the gates.  “Run!  The fire is upon us!”

Veronica pushed her way to the front and raced underneath the portcullis as the iron fell to the ground, sealing the castle.  Stumbling, she pretended to be a hysterical woman and began running from the main entrance toward the city proper.  She thought she heard one of the guards yell “Halt!” but she could not be sure and did not look back.

The first rule of an Assassin is to honor your contract.  But the second rule is perhaps more important:  live to sign another contract.
  Veronica lived.

She did not, however, relish the thought of her next update with Xaro.

Chapter 21:  Leaving One City, Entering Another

~Queen Najalas~

“I have heard the arguments.
It is decided, then.”

Queen Najalas fixed her eyes firmly on the five men that she trusted to help her rule Elvidor.  Not one of them dared say it to her face, but she felt their unspoken rebuke: 
King Alomar would never make this decision.

The silence hung in the air.  All of them typically spoke freely
—she encouraged disagreement, discussion.  She relished the fact that these men would air their concerns without fear of reprisal—it was one of the things that made her so sure of herself, because she always trusted she received better council than most rulers.  They all loved their Queen, and would always bow to the crown, even if one or more disagreed.  It was rare that there was ever a consensus amongst the six of them on any momentous decision.

But this was an even rarer moment when she would not heed the advice of her council when it was 5-
to-1.  All five of her most loyal men—Steward, Admiral, General, Head Mage, Captain of the Guard—all of them disagreed with her.  She stood alone on this.

Finally, Strongiron, her masterful General, broke the silence.  “My Queen
—”

“Enough,” the Queen cut him off.  “Must we rehash the same arguments?  Rebecca is a Ranger, perhaps she will find some rabbit trails for you when you’re hungry. 
Phillip is a walking waste of oxygen.  Jonathan cannot leave me, nor can Simon.  Peter I would send if this was to be a sea quest, but alas it is over land.  Niku is going, but I fear that will not be enough. 
The girl must be protected
.”

“There are better bodyguards.”  ‘Strongiron said plainly.  “My army
—”

“Will be led
in your absence.  Surely your Lieutenant General, Sir Victor, Knight of Thunder and Captain of our Northern Army, can assume leadership until you return?  Rhee is also exceptional.  And we disagree on the whether there are better bodyguards.  Simon, would the best guards in Rookwood under your watchful eye match your colleague here in battle?”

Simon looked at his colleague, then turned back to the Queen.  “Your Majesty, that is not the point.  He is
our general!
  You send him across the sea when all reports point to a growing threat.  Chief Chocktaw, whom we all know to be a man of his word, swears that an attack is imminent.  You just sent him out to find someone interested in this long-forgotten God, and whom did he find?  A fickle maiden.  Now you want to send Strongiron away from here again?  Need I remind you that the imminent danger
is right here in our midst! 
My Queen, we were just attacked outside your chamber!”

“
Your last point is the clincher for me, Simon. 
We
were not attacked. 
He
was.”  She looked directly at the striking, ice-blue eyes of her general.  “I am sending him not only because he is the best one for the task of protecting this group…but also because it is the best way of protecting
him. 
Rookwood is cavernous.  If an Assassin has truly entered our castle and has set his sights on Strongiron, they will likely still be inside.  Perhaps with a month of searching we’ll find or starve the rat out, but should we keep Strongiron in his quarters while we interrogate everyone who is inside our walls?  Niku, do you recognize the poison on the dart?  Do any of you?”  She turned her attention to a small dart resting on a white pillow in the center of the table.  The point of the dart glistened slightly, and a tiny grey stain had already developed under its tip.

“No, my Queen.  I do not recognize the smell.  I will take it to our own…staff…to examine after our meeting.”  Niku looked at the others; all shook their heads.

“We are in agreement that the target was Strongiron, and we are in agreement that the dart is highly professional.  We assume it is poisoned, and I would bet my crown that it is lethal.

“My friends.  My councilors.  I understand your concern, but I feel strongly that Strongiron should accompany Niku on this mission to Urthrax.  You do not need to convince me of his value here, but surely you must also acknowledge, in light of the events of the last two hours, that there is great risk here inside our walls as well.  I will
not
have a faceless Assassin poison his water while we search the castle.

“But what’s more,
I am even more convinced than ever that this village girl holds the key for us.  You speak of this ‘long forgotten God’ as if this is a fool’s errand.  Do you truly think so, Simon?  Speak!”

Simon took a deep breath. 
Besides being the Queen’s Steward, he was a Knight himself, in the Order of Thorns.  He looked at the pommel of his sword, with a handcrafted vine of thorns molded into the handle.  Knights did not lie.  At least, that was their Oath.  It was an Oath that marks them apart from simply being skilled with a blade.  Not every True Warrior was a Knight, for sure.  Most Knights, however, were True Warriors, save perhaps for those men who fought and were knighted posthumously.  The Captain of the Guard commanded a force of skilled Knights who served three purposes: protect the Crown, protect Rookwood, and protect the surrounding townspeople.  In that order.

“My Queen, forgive me.  I alone was with you when Pilanthas spoke to us.  It had the ring of truth to it, near as I could understand.  I did not mean to belittle the quest.  We do not disagree on the importance of currying favor with God.  Where we disagree is the assignment of Strongiron to the mission.  Niku is more than capable of protecting Kari, along
with her companions, weaker as they may be.  Surely our colleague has enough strength to protect the girl while hunting for abandoned temples or reading ancient maps.  Don’t you, my friend?”  He turned to the Mage, who nodded.

“Of course.  She will be safe, my Queen.  I urge you
—please allow Strongiron to prepare our army.  Many have never been in battle, some last fought a generation ago and need the training.  Few have ever seen an undead warrior, let alone fought one.  Let him concern himself with these matters and leave the cleric hunting to my team.  And—if there is a threat still inside our very walls, Simon will uncover it.  Our hardy General will be no worse the wear, and may even aid in the search.”

The Queen looked at these five men.  In that instant, she recalled a night
a month ago when…

***

Strongiron dined alone with the Queen up in her chambers.  She often dined one-on-one with her council members or others high in her court, so it raised nary an eyebrow.  They had met dozens of times, often to talk court politics, foreign alliances, and the occasional military strategy session.  Sometimes they just spoke about Alomar, the fallen King who died too soon.  If Strongiron could have taken his place, if he could have been the one to get sick, the fevers, the pain…

“You have never married, Strongiron.  Why is that?”  The Queen’s bluntness broke his train of thought like
a splash of cold water first thing in the morning.

“My Queen?”  Strongiron asked,
blinking as he put his grapes down on his plate.

She
smiled, somewhat awkwardly.  Her thin lips did not lend themselves to playful smiles.  “Just that.  You have never married, my young General.  Why do you resist?  Surely you are not ignorant to the girls at court that vie for your affection.”

Strongiron fixed his ice
-blue eyes on his Queen and shrugged.  “Waiting for the right lady, I suspect.”  He plucked a grape off the vine and bit into it, seeds and all.

“And what does the right girl look like?” the Queen asked.  “Perhaps
you would allow me to make a match for you.”

Strongiron laughed.  “My Queen, I trust your decisions in almost all things, but on this I think my own council is sufficient.”

She laughed briefly as a courtesy, but then quickly grew serious again.  She tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in oil.  “Are you sure, my general?  I may have a better match in mind for you than you think.”

He cocked a single eyebrow over his striking eyes and said simply, “Very well.  Who would you have for me?”  He reached over
for a breast of roast pheasant covered in a delicious berry sauce.

The Queen put her f
ork down.  “Elvidor needs a King, Strongiron.”

~Queen Najalas~

Queen Najalas look
ed at her five councilors for a good long time before turning to Strongiron.  “I have heard everyone.  Strongiron—I remain convinced that your presence on the mission will be invaluable in helping find remnants of the old clerics, their rites, their knowledge, their artifacts, their practices.  I also have a strong sense that your presence will greatly aid in protecting the party and prove critical to the mission’s overall success.  And not that you would ever run from a threat, but I also strongly believe, for what it’s worth, that you will be safer away from Rookwood for a spell.  It is my desire that you should accompany Niku.  Will you follow my wishes
on at least this?
”

The others were somewhat puzzled; when did anyone not follow the Queen’s wishes?  Strongiron did not take his eyes off his Queen.  His face was inscrutable.  He finally nodded.  “Of course, my Queen.  As you wish.  I shall go make arrangements.”  He
rose from the table, and then added, “And will take every reasonable precaution in doing so.”  He bowed low and left.  Soon the others followed, each bowing and leaving, until the Queen was alone in her council room.  She sighed and muttered, “I pray this is the right decision.”  As if she struggled to convince even herself, she sighed again and left.

~Strongiron~

“This makes no sense,” said Niku.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say our Queen didn’t trust me.”

“I agree, my friend.  I wonder whether her grief has finally caught up with her,” chimed in Peter.  “Strongiron, if the situation was reversed, I would be hard pressed to obey.  You should stay.”

Jonathon glared at Peter.  “The Queen’s orders are the law of the land.  We serve at her leisure, Peter.”  He softened his tone, looking around the small private chamber in which all five of them were gathered immediately following their meeting with the Queen.  “However, I understand your frustration.  It would not seem to be the most prudent course, given Chief Chocktaw’s grim message of floating corpses heading west.”

Simon poured himself a glass of water from a nearby pitcher.  “At least they were headed away from Elvidor.  We don’t know when they’ll be back.”

“Does it matter?” asked Peter.  “Sending our General is madness, Assassin or no!  I understand the need to find evidence of Dymetra; we’ve all seen the power a single Dark Cleric can wield.  All I am saying is that Niku can handle it.  And if he needs help, send Rhee, hell, send Sir Victor if you want a knight in your group.  But
Strongiron? 
My friend, I genuinely think this matter needs to be rethought.”

“What are you suggesting, Admiral?” asked Niku.

“Just that the Queen, on this point, is not acting rationally.  We all know she’s fair, logical.  This is out of character, surely you all see that?”  Peter stood up and grabbed some water himself.

“You are hinting at rebellion.  If this were a ship, you would be advocating mutiny.”  Jonathon stood up, staring at the Admiral.

“I would support Strongiron,” interjected Niku.  “Simon?”

Simon looked at Jonathon, then at Strongiron.  “I would support Strongiron, at least temporarily until this madness passed.”

Peter, who had not taken his eyes off Jonathon, said, “Strongiron.  Jonathon, I would not even suggest this if we weren’t talking about the Kingdom.  Surely you know I mean the Queen no harm in this.  But she is wrong—even you understand that.”  He extended his hand to the Steward.

Jonathon stared at it, and finally took it, exhaling deeply.  “Then we agree we must confront her on this, one more time.  I, too, will stand with Strongiron.”

All eyes turned to Strongiron, who was seated, listening carefully.  He smiled sadly.  “You stand by a man who will faithfully serve the Queen.  She wants me to accompany you, Niku, which is what I will do.  I can appreciate your doubts, and your faith in me.  But I am a King’s man, now a Queen’s man, and we shall find this God.  Or, we shall find that Dymetra is no more a God than any of the statues that line the streets of Paragatha just north of here.  One or the other, we shall find the truth—
I
shall find the truth.”  He looked at each of the men in turn, and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “And while I appreciate your confidence in me, we shall not speak of rebellion again while our enemies plot against us.”  Strongiron gave a curt nod to the other four, and they all wordlessly started filing out of the room.

“One more thing,” Strongiron said, turning to Simon with a warm smile.  “Captain, would you be so kind to find whoever it was that wanted me dead?  I would so very much enjoy meeting them upon our return.”