Wizard of Wisdom: An Epic Fantasy Series (Wisdom Saga Book 1)

by W. C. Conner

  “Getting to the point, however, there was one that described the weaving of a worm which is placed when not much more than the size of a pinhead in the nostril of a sleeping person where it quickly and painlessly moves up inside the nose and burrows its way into the brain from where it can direct the actions of the host. It is quite an advanced spell which could only be effected by a wizard with considerable potential.”

  Both Tingle and Gleneagle listened in disbelief, their lips curled in revulsion at what they were hearing and seeing. Geoffrey’s voice dropped ominously as he continued. “Since the worm must be physically placed at the nose, it follows that there is someone who placed it in Nicolette’s nose at some time in the past. Perhaps even someone still here in the castle.”

  As the three men turned over in their minds the implications of what Geoffrey had said, the remains of the worm became a greasy liquid which bubbled and turned to a sickly green vapor that rose, curling and twisting upon itself and blew out the window past Mertine’s down-turned head.

  The prince looked pale but determined as he turned his gaze to Tingle.

  “Did she have conversation with you last night?” he asked, the meaning clear to Tingle.

  “None that I recall,” he replied. “In fact, she forbade me to talk. Throughout there was nothing. The last thing I recall being said as she began was ‘relax and enjoy, Tingle’.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, I thought it strange myself as I reflected on it over my meal just a short time ago, but I don’t remember saying anything at all except to utter her name when I first became aware of her presence.”

  “I would guess there was conversation you had but were not aware of, Tingle. It appears we’ve had an unwilling spy in our midst … perhaps for some time,” Gleneagle said grimly, “and there is only one person who could possibly have need of such information.”

  Tingle looked up and caught Gleneagle’s eye. “There was a young guard on duty at the main gate who gave me dark looks at the time I gave Caron’s note to Albert, the other guard,” he said. “I would swear that he was lurking in the hallway inside the west gate where I was met by Nicolette. It would be of interest to learn how well he knew her.”

  “I will know that shortly and I suspect Greyleige will know all that you know almost as shortly. I fear for my daughter’s safety.”

  Tingle thought uncomfortably of the one additional piece of information he had not shared with the prince or Mertine. “Your Highness,” he said, the strain in his voice apparent, “there is one additional piece of information that I did not share with you.” The prince looked to him. “Her destination,” he continued. “I did not tell you of her destination.”

  Gleneagle’s face paled slightly as he heard those words and he looked down at Nicolette whose pretty young face was now peaceful in death. “I have known this girl since she was born within the walls of this castle. She is but a few months younger than my own Caron and they have been close all their lives.” His controlled anger was fearful to behold as he concluded, “Greyleige has much to answer for, Tingle, and answer he will. By whatever powers are given to me, he will answer for this and everything else.”

  Turning on his heel, he strode toward the door, his resolve making him appear larger than he had before. He now had a mission he understood, a mission for which he was trained, a mission which called for the type of decisions with which he was comfortable.

  “We must arm ourselves. Have my generals meet me in the Judgment Hall in one hour, Geoffrey. War is at hand.”

  20

  Caron and Mitchal stood on the same rise that Morgan, Kemp and Peg had just a few weeks prior, looking across the narrow and shallow valley toward the eastern edge of Wisdom. Caron’s attention was drawn irresistibly to the tall dark crowns of the ancient trees of the Old Forest beyond the town.

  “It is true, then,” she said under her breath, not truly directing her words to Mitchal. “The magic is there still. I can feel its strength. It is unnerving.”

  “Highness?” Mitchal asked, not hearing clearly what she had said.

  “The tall, dark trees beyond the town,” she said, pointing toward them and looking to him as she did. “That is the eastern boundary of the Old Forest and therein lies our eventual fate for good or for ill.” Her face took on a faraway, hopeful look. “It is closed to me now, but perhaps one day I may find a way to enter and visit the splendor my ancestors created before their departure from our world.”

  With no way to know he was reflecting the sense of Morgan’s words as he stood on the same spot upon their arrival, Mitchal said quietly, “May the name of this place be the lodestone that guides us from this point forward, Highness.”

  After exchanging a glance of understanding, they lifted their nearly empty bags and started down the slope toward Wisdom.

  Once again it was Scrubby who spotted the travelers as they entered the town, and once again he stopped to observe them as items of interest in this out of the way corner of the principality. As they drew near, Scrubby gave them a friendly nod and moved on. She was statuesque and handsome and her companion was imposing, but not intimidating as Morgan had been. It was a curiosity, for certain, that two such well-wrought people were afoot and so roughly dressed, but their business was their business and they appeared to be neither threat nor boon.

  He looked back toward them one more time as they turned into the open gates at the Three Oaks Inn.

  Business had been light with no travelers looking for rooms. Even the locals had been attending in the evening in fewer numbers and consuming less of the renowned Three Oaks ale than was their custom. As the front door opened, Thisbe looked up from the counter where she sat reviewing the previous day’s tally; one that had been particularly disappointing. Two taller than average people stood blinking into the relative darkness of the common room, waiting for their eyes to adjust.

  “Welcome to Three Oaks, friends,” she called to them. “Are you looking for a room?”

  “Two rooms,” said the broader of the two.

  “And information,” said the other. The feminine timbre of the second voice surprised Thisbe who, judging from the height of the figure framed in the backlit doorway, had expected a second male voice.

  “Fortunately for you, but not for me, the first is easily accommodated,” Thisbe said as they shut the door and crossed to where she stood. “You may have your pick of my rooms, for all are unoccupied at present. Accommodating your second request will depend on the information you seek.” Something about the two had set her mildly on guard as she sensed a wariness about them that had not been immediately apparent.

  “I do not have any hot food prepared at this hour of the day,” she continued, regarding them closely and seeing the same anomaly of appearance that had piqued Scrubby’s curiosity, “but I would be pleased to provide bread and cheeses and fruit along with ale or wines at your direction.”

  The woman inclined her head with a practiced graciousness which Thisbe noted with interest. “Such a repast would be a feast to us after these many days living off the land,” she sighed. “And ales, of course, after a long dusty hike.”

  “You are afoot then?” Thisbe said, her interest rising even more. No horses? Living off the land? I have no doubt there is a tale here that will be well worth the hearing, she thought as she headed into the kitchen.

  Passing the open door to the side yard, her arms loaded with food, she beckoned to the tousle haired boy who skipped over to where she waited. “Philip. Go fetch Morgan and Kemp,” she told him, keeping her voice low. “Ask them to join me as quickly as possible in the common room.” At the question in his eyes she kicked lightly at him. “Just go!” she laughed.

  As Thisbe left the room, Caron suddenly leaned forward and put her head into her arms. Mitchal touched her shoulder tentatively. “Are you unwell, Highness?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

  “He is back, Mitchal,” she said quietly. “He is trying to scry through me as he did at the ford of th
e Ahnglees and twice again as we traveled through the Dolne Forest. It’s unfortunate that he will now know I am aware of his intrusions, but he must not see this place.”

  Caron’s head was still in her arms on the counter when Thisbe returned with the food.

  “Are you not well?” she asked.

  “I am tired and hungry only,” Caron answered, not daring to look up although the feeling of watchfulness was quickly passing. “It is only a matter of the moment.”

  The travelers were seated at the counter with Thisbe leaning on the bar near them, talking as they finished their meal when Morgan and Kemp entered at the front door and started across the common room toward them, with Peg following a few steps behind.

  The two travelers turned almost as one to see who had entered. Morgan’s dagger appeared instantly as the more slightly built of the two at the bar sprang from her seat and launched herself in their direction. “Kemp,” she cried in delight, throwing herself at the blacksmith and wrapping her arms around his neck.

  A brief look at Kemp’s face told him there was no danger here and Morgan’s dagger disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

  A quick look at Kemp’s face told Peg there definitely was danger here as she regarded the woman hugging Kemp, though certainly not the sort of danger that Morgan would recognize.

  “Caron,” Kemp stammered, the shock evident in his voice. “What on earth brings you here?” He looked past her to Mitchal and nodded a greeting which was acknowledged in kind.

  “You bring me here, Kemp,” she said seriously. “We have much to tell.”

  Morgan’s eyebrow cocked in curiosity while Thisbe’s face settled into an expression of undisguised fascination. Caron? she thought, looking at the woman holding Kemp’s arm as she led him to the counter. So it was the princess afoot and beating her way cross-country? This tale will be even better than I could have ever imagined it to be. She leaned back against the wall to listen.

  As Scrubby worked his way around the town collecting the day’s leavings for his charges, Wil was watching the sow and her piglets once again wallowing and rooting through the boggy area near the margin of the Old Forest. His mind was wandering, wrestling with the newly found knowledge that he had been born a wizard, a calling that he had spent his life despising. He had despised them for those flawed characteristics that seemed to be inherited with their magic. They were arrogant and power hungry with nothing but disdain for those not so born, or so he had always believed. And now he was one of them ... had always been one of them. How could he possibly reconcile those things within himself?

  Surely Kemp is wrong, he thought. If I am a wizard I would have known it long ago. I would be arrogant and power hungry. I wouldn’t feel connected to the earth as I do here with Scrubby. And yet...

  His thoughts trailed off and he stared sightlessly at the Old Forest. What he didn’t want to acknowledge to himself was that the moment he was told of his heritage, everything had fallen into place. He flinched as the Old Forest flashed suddenly and briefly into brilliance before reverting to the somber appearance to which he was accustomed.

  Over at the Three Oaks Inn, Caron had just jumped into Kemp’s arms.

  At Blackstone, Greyleige had just read a message taken from the leg of a pigeon.

  21

  “An interesting pair of visitors arrived in town today,” Scrubby said as they sat down to their evening meal. “If it weren’t for their rough spun clothes and the fact they were afoot, I’d have said they were quite high born.” There was a moment of silence as he took a bite of bread and a drink of water. “They must have some coin, at least,” he continued, “for they’ve put up at Three Oaks.” Wil ate silently. “I figured you’d probably not be interested since you still don’t seem inclined to deal with the outside world.”

  As Scrubby finished there was a soft knock at the door and his eyebrows rose in amazement. “I can’t remember the last time anyone came up here and knocked on my door,” he said as he stood and crossed the small room.

  Wil had stiffened at the sound of the knock, the look of a trapped animal haunting his eyes. The sound of Kemp’s voice was clear to him as the door scraped open. “We’re here to see Wil.”

  The roaring of a thundering waterfall filled Wil’s head as six people crowded into the room and selected places against the wall. Three of the six sat on his sleeping pallet on the opposite wall while the other two and Kemp remained standing. In addition to Kemp, Morgan, Thisbe and Peg, there were the two strangers that Scrubby had seen in the town earlier. Every eye was fixed on Wil as Scrubby returned to stand next to his three-legged stool at the table and waited for one of them to speak.

  Again, it was Kemp. “Wil, Scrubby,” he said formally, inclining his head to each of them in turn, “I have the pleasure and honor of presenting her Highness, Princess Caron and her head guardsman, Mitchal.”

  Scrubby’s mouth dropped open as he tripped over his stool and fell to one knee, then scrambled as quickly as he could to his feet, bowing deeply as soon as he had gained them. The princess in his humble hovel? He was not ashamed of his home, but he had no pretensions that it was other than it was, nor that she was other than she was. Not knowing what was appropriate, he remained doubled over in the deep bow.

  The princess smiled in understanding of his discomfort and reached out her hand. She touched his shoulder. “Please, Scrubby. I am honored to share the home of an honest man who works so closely with the land that sustains us all.” Straightening up slowly as her words worked their way into his overwrought mind, he smiled sheepishly but found no words to say in reply.

  Wil had stood as the visitors entered, feeling as though he was a marionette being dragged to his feet by an unseen puppeteer somewhere above him. He stood silently as Scrubby and the princess exchanged their awkward greetings.

  When Caron finished reassuring Scrubby, she turned toward Wil. “We have been searching for you a long time, Wilton,” she said gently, looking him over carefully and critically, “though for a good part of that time we didn’t even know who you were. You have been a most elusive ‘key’ and we have despaired of finding you in time.”

  Wil finally turned his head toward Caron and bowed respectfully. “I, also, have despaired of finding myself in time,” he replied, feeling as if the words were coming from some part of his mind he was only dimly aware of, “yet when I did, I found there were two ‘selfs’ and both were found right here in Wisdom. In truth, I quite literally fell into one ‘self’ on my own, and with that one I am most happy.” He smiled fondly at Scrubby. “And then I was presented with another ‘self’ I would never have anticipated nor wanted.”

  He looked deeply into Caron’s almost unnaturally dark eyes, feeling himself drawn into them by the strength behind them as he made a decision that went entirely against sixty-five years of passionately held beliefs and prejudices. “For better or for worse, your Highness,” he said, finally acknowledging both her title and his, “I am a wizard.”

  Caron’s eyes had not left his as he spoke and the tension melted from her face as he replied. “There is more steel in you than I had hoped for or expected, Wilton,” she said, the relief in her voice apparent. “It was Kemp who first identified you as the most probable candidate to be The Key when you were still living in Wrensfalls. After he found you again in Dunlivit, he became more convinced and passed his belief along to me. As we researched your past, we became more and more certain that you were our ‘key’, even though your behavior often made us doubt our conclusion.

  “We found ourselves following an uncertain, vacillating, apparently weak man; one so unsure of himself we doubted we had read the signs aright.” She smiled warmly as she looked into his eyes and continued, “I am delighted to find that it seems we did not err in our judgment. You are worthy of admiration, Wilton. In your acknowledgment that you are a wizard, you have accepted a fearsome burden in contravention of all you have ever believed. For that, and for the test you undoubtedly face, I honor
you.” With that, she dropped to one knee before him.

  Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. He recognized his faux pas too late at the startled look on her face as he pulled her unceremoniously back to her feet. She removed her hand from his and her face colored as her eyes locked with his. “Please don’t do that, Highness,” he stammered, blushing furiously in his turn, powerless to break his gaze from hers.

  Thisbe, watching from her seat against the wall, smiled wickedly. They both blush so prettily, she thought. Very charming. Very interesting!

  Mitchal shifted his feet and cleared his throat conspicuously. “Highness,” he rumbled, “the seekers?”

  Caron’s eyes broke away from Wil’s as she acknowledged Mitchal’s comment. Reaching behind her neck, she undid the clasp on the silver chain and removed from inside her shirt the green gemstone that she had retrieved from Mitchal upon their arrival in Wisdom. Wil watched intently as she held it out before his eyes. It twisted slowly, twinkling and glittering as it moved.

  “I am descended from the elves,” she said. “As such, I normally have protections from discovery by the magic of humans, for their scrying globes are blind to those of elven descent.” She did not mention the intrusions she had been subjected to on her journey to Wisdom although she glanced briefly at Mitchal as she continued.

  “There are foul creatures in the air, summoned by Greyleige and searching for something or someone. Mitchal and I were confronted by them as we fled cross-country. They were blind to me while they were aware of Mitchal, though they did not attack him. From their actions it is clear to me that they have a single prey in mind.” She looked meaningfully at Wil.

  “This gemstone has been handed down generation upon generation in the Gleneagle lineage. It was gifted to our line by its elven forebear as a part of his last gesture before he departed.” She looked from the gemstone to Wil’s face. “The seekers will eventually find this place. We have seen that the gemstone thwarts them for it gave Mitchal the same protection from these creatures that my own elven heritage provides me. It is my hope and belief that it will help protect you as well.”