In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (74 page)

I do not possess that kind of power—that kind of foresight.
  He just closed his eyes and simply—and silently—thanked Her for choosing him; that was all he could do at the moment.

Dymetra approached Magi, a
s his parents rose and left him kneeling, alone.  “I have chosen you because you seek wisdom, but you lack perspective.  If your world is to be saved from this great darkness that gathers, they must seek Me.  I have not left—
they have turned from Me.
  You shall help them rediscover what I and I alone can do.”

Magi looked up
, and saw a loving, warm face.  “Why me?”  It was the one question he couldn’t shake.

“Because I know your heart, Magi.  I know it better than you know yourself.  You are capable.  I just need you to be available.”

“But surely there are others who seek you, others more capable?”
I cannot be the best one suited to this!

“You think you are not the best suited…but you are, Magi.  I do not need t
o explain myself and my choices, nor is it for you to judge me, but I will offer you this encouragement. 
All
who seek me will find me, and
all
who know me will stay with me at the proper time.  For the few who still call upon me, I move events as I see fit to those with faith.  But for the task at hand and the times ahead, your fate is to help Tenebrae rediscover Truth in absolute terms.  I put in you a judgmental thirst; it is time for your thirst be quenched, but tempered with wisdom.”

Magi bowed his eyes.  “
How can I do that?  I was killed.”  He put his hand to his throat.

“For man, there are limits.  For Me, there are none.  You shall return
—your life on Tenebrae will be returned.”  Dymetra smiled, and it was the most breathtaking thing he had ever beheld in his life or death.  The smile of God filled the room with optimism, hope, and energy.

Revitalized, but still unable to stand, he asked, “What about all of them?”  He looked about the room.  Then he turned to his best friend.  “Kyle?”

“Through prayer from a faithful cleric, I can grant all manner of healing, Magi—even when the body has returned to me—provided it serves my purpose.  Kyle’s purpose, however, has been well served, Magi.  He is in Paradise.  You have said yourself that Tenebrae is a Dark World.  Has your friend not suffered enough?  Why not let him enjoy the fruits of the race he ran?”  Dymetra asked.

Because I need him!  Because I ended his life too soon!  Because I feel guilty…

“Magi,” Kyle said, approaching his friend.  “It’s ok.”

Magi found the strength and energy to stand, and he
put his hand around Kyle’s neck, tears continuing to run down his cheeks.

“Kyle
—you’ll come with me, right?”  Magi asked, half-pleading.  He turned to Dymetra.  “Please!  Send him back with me!”

Dymetra once again smiled, and the room was filled with hope, with energy, and with optimism.  Magi’s tears stopped, and breathed the feeling in deep.

“Young mage,” She began kindly.  “You have so much to learn.  Let Me grant you the request that you
truly
petition for, not the one you have asked.  Let your guilt be removed, Magi.  Over time you will learn to see My plans and My will, and will ask for the things you need most to accomplish it.  What you need right now is to be freed from the guilt of your cursed past, which I have granted.  You will find that I will provide all the help you need, Magi.”

A shudder ran through Magi, and he felt like a blast of cold air just washed over him.  He felt alert, more self-aware.  He turned to Kyle again, and saw his best friend…happy.

Kyle put an arm on Magi’s shoulder, then hugged him.  Finally he gently separated from his best friend.  “This is Paradise, Magi.  Apparently my sacrifice is over.  If anything, I feel bad that you have to go back.  Right, Fate?”  He turned his head to a chair not far from the large comfortable looking one, and nodded at Fate, whom Magi immediately recognized, having given him his white eyes at the top of Staircase what seemed eons ago.

Fate smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “You heard Her. 
He’s headed back.”

Magi just looked at Kyle.  “But would you come if She allowed it?”

He smiled at Magi and clapped his shoulder.  “For you, I would.”

Magi then turned to Dymetra and bowed his head.  “My God, is there no way You would reconsider?”

Dymetra slowly extended a finger toward Magi.  “Young mage, I have told you what I require.  A selfish, guilt-ridden prayer is not it.  A cleric—a True Cleric—armed with a faithful prayer, aligned to my will, shall overcome much.  They may overcome death itself.  But you are still principally concerned with your needs, and your friend is also principally concerned with your needs as well.  With time, reflection, obedience, and experience…you will learn to trust Me.”

Kyle just put his hands together
, lowered his eyes, and backed away. “I’m sure you’ll have help, Magi.  But my place is here now.  I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”

Even surrounded by his family and those he had known,
Magi had never felt so alone.  He looked up at Dymetra seated in Her chair.  “I—I still don’t know what you want me to do.”

Another man approached.  Kyle nodded at him and continued backing away.  The other man extended his hand and said.  “Magi.”

He did not recognize him, except to say that he was one of the men he had noticed in the room.  He shook the man’s hand after a brief pause.  “Who are you?” he asked.

The young-looking man smiled kindly.  “My name is Quixatalor
—you may have heard of me.  For now you may be returning alone, but at least you won’t return empty-handed.  I owe you an apology.  My friend Windomere and I, who stands over there, created a terrible spell.  It is called Tralatus, and it changes a person’s character, their moral center, so to speak.  It was this deed that cost us our lives, and rightfully so.  Though our intentions were good, Dymetra was not pleased that we should try and use our power to make ‘bad’ people ‘good.’  So you see, you are not the first nor will you be the last to wrestle with this question.  We thought we could rid the world of evil…and all we did was give Her ancient enemy the means to destroy your life.  Please forgive us for this terrible mistake. Yet, as is Her character—” he looked over at Dymetra, smiling humbly, “—She causes all things to work together for good for those who are called according to Her purpose.  So it is the case with you.”  He smiled again, this time with a little twinkle in his eye as he patted Magi on the back.

Quixatalor continued.  “She did give me a wonderful gift, however.  During my time on
Tenebrae, I had a staff that gave me Her perspective on everything.  It allowed me to see Truth.  It allowed me to hear what was unspoken, to feel what was unexpressed, to learn that which others would not openly share.  It is blessed by Dymetra herself, and She wishes you to have it.  Take my staff, the Staff of Insight or Wisdom as it has been called, and use it well.  Use it as I used it, to bring a measure of light into the growing darkness of the world.”

He held out a thick staff, beautifully carved.  It was incredibly light
—far lighter than any quarterstaff Magi had practiced with at Marik’s school.  The rod was at least eight feet long, and as sturdy as the finest hardwood.  The top of it widened into a set of four prongs that held a small, white stone.  Magi put his hand on top of the stone—it was smooth like a diamond, but warm.

“You will find that the Staff is a formidable weapon, but that its true value is in sensing and interpreting the truth.  Whenever you ask for Dymetra’s insight into a situation in the presence of this Staff, it shall be granted.  Use it well.”  Quixatalor said, starting to walk away.

Magi said, “I don’t feel anything from the Staff now.”

Quixatalor laughed.  “Well of course you don’t
—there is no deception here.”

The man c
alled Windomere approached Magi. He was covered in tattoos.  “I, too, must apologize to you, Magi.  If Quixatalor and I knew hundreds of years ago that you, or anyone’s suffering would be the fruits of our labor, we would not have brought that spell into existence.  But come—you have been healed of that spell, and are now who you were always destined to be.  And now it is time for you to return.  Do not say goodbye…you will return.  Seconds here are years on Tenebrae and seconds there are years here.  I don’t have a physical gift for you, but I can offer you some guidance:  seek others who have committed themselves to this fight.  And know this:  there are two other Artifacts, blessed by Dymetra, which can aid you in this struggle against the demon Kuth-Cergor.”

Magi gave the staff a twirl. 
Unbelievably light.
  “What artifacts?”

Windomere continued.  “The
Blade of Justice, wielded by Ajax—one of the deadliest True Warriors Tenebrae has ever seen, and my own Shield of Life.  I cannot tell you where they are, for I do not know.  But you should seek them, and this Staff will be of great help I am sure.”

Magi nodded.  He looked around and saw many, many familiar faces, now that he actually took the time to take it all in.  He set his jaw, and put his hand up to wave slowly, not sure how to say goodbye.  He turned to Dymetra,
and again felt the immense power emanating from Her seated in that large, comfortable chair.  “I am ready,” he said, bowing his head.

Dymetra simply said, “Return…
”

~Magi~

Magi blinked.  He saw
the back of a woman as she dove into the sea, and then he began hearing cheers and cries and shouts and all manner of pandemonium.  He was lying in a street, pitched forward.  He dared not move until he heard, “Burn the body!”

His hand wrapped tightly around the Staff, he called forth his magic and disappeared, teleporting to first person he could think of visiting.

“What in the world…how—” was the last thing Magi heard, gasped from a captain who watched the whole spectacle unfold from the main deck of a ship,
Sheila’s Bane
,
tied up at the dock.

~Kari~

The floor started to rise.  Gently at first, but soon they all began to notice they were working a little harder.  Strongiron, who was carrying the heaviest load, was soon wiping his brow.  He smiled at the exertion.  “We seem to be climbing, albeit slowly.”

Niku, still carefully drawing his map to ensure they didn’t miss a potential route out, agreed with the True Warrior.  “Yes, I believe you’re right.”  He paused when the path they were following opened into a fairly large room, not unlike the dozens that they had been exploring, except that this one was almost cavernous, with four or five tunnels leading in several different directions, including the way in which they had just come.  A large pile of bones lay in the center.

The group cautiously entered the chamber and looked around.
Rebecca sighed.  “More exploring.  It never ends.”

Niku, however,
came to a stop in the middle, near the bones.  He held up his hand.  “Do you feel that?” he asked the group.

“Feel what?” Kari asked.

“An air current!” Strongiron answered.  Looking up, they saw only darkness above.  The alcove they were in had higher stone ceilings than most of the others, and the top was obscured in shadow.  “Send one of your glowballs up there.”

Kari obliged, and as her light rose, they saw the source of the mild air current:  a shaft, cut into the top of the room.

“Of course!” Niku said. “If Kari is right, the True Clerics would not be concerned with a fall.  They would have floated down with no need for stairs.”  His eyes narrowed into little white slits.  “I believe we should head up.”

Strongiron rubbed his beard.  “Can you levitate us all?  There are no ladders or ropes for Quentin, Rebecca, or myself.  Kari and you can manage, I suppose.”

Niku nodded.  “With ease.”  Knowing everyone was anxious to be above ground again, he did not wait long to gather himself.  Uttering the words, he began to lift the entire group, slowly, in single file, up through the enormous shaft, starting with Strongiron.

The glowball rose ahead of him, lighting the way.  He kept rising and rising, more than a hundred feet.  Up he went, and the air grew fresher.  Near the top, however, the end of the shaft approached unceremoniously, culminating in just a bunch of stone, like one might find atop any cave wall.  Feeling disappointed and more nervous from the height than he would care to admit, he started to yell down, but the word ‘Stop!’ got caught in his throat.  He saw the glow ball
keep ascending—passing straight through the stone.  Putting his hands over his head to keep from ramming his head into approaching ceiling, he felt incredibly claustrophobic.  Bracing, ready to shout, he watched as his own hands plunged through the stone as if they were air.

He poked his head up through the opening and into a cave, natural light flooding
its opening, not far away.  The massive True Warrior began laughing, and called down to tell the others.  Soon all were standing in the cave, looking at the nondescript dirt floor that was actually an illusion.