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

by W. C. Conner

  She grasped Wil’s shoulder and turned him around in order to draw the chain around his neck, conscious of the heat of his body as she fixed the clasp. Her hand paused almost imperceptibly against his shoulder as she finished and stepped away from him.

  Turning to face her once more, he took the gem in his hand and looked at it briefly before placing it inside his shirt. “You have done me far more honor than I deserve, not once but twice now.” He bowed his head as he spoke. “I swear upon whatever honor I have left to me that I will do whatever I can to be worthy of your trust.”

  Caron’s face softened with compassion as she replied, “I have followed your struggles from a distance for some time, Wilton. With this acceptance of your burden in the face of a lifetime of justifiable prejudice, you have shown that you are more than worthy. Our trust in our future is well placed.”

  Kemp stretched and twisted to loosen muscles kept still too long. “We will continue this in the morning,” he said to the room in general. “We came this evening because of the threat to Wil from these seekers. The gemstone has been given and received. With that around your neck, we may hope that you will be safe from them while you are here in the shadow of the Old Forest, at the least.”

  As the others rose Peg moved to Kemp, placing her hand upon his forearm and staying near him as he sidled through the door. He looked down at her and smiled. When he patted her hand where it lay on his arm, her tight smile broadened and she walked happily by his side away from Scrubby’s home.

  Caron awoke in the early morning hours, her heart pounding. It is here, she thought in near panic. Bolting from her room, a dagger in each hand, she found Mitchal in the hallway with two daggers clamped awkwardly in his armpit as he fastened his sword belt across his shoulders. Hastening down the stairs they found Morgan and Kemp emerging from their rooms, poorly dressed but fully armed, Kemp with his heavy hammer in one hand and a short sword in the other. Thisbe awaited them in the center of the common room, her hair sticking out wildly about her head, a short sword in one hand and a brace of throwing knives in the other. As one, they ran through the front door, leaving it open in their haste. Not one among them had spoken a single word as they emerged fully armed from their rooms, yet each of them instinctively knew that the terror they felt came from the presence of the creature which sought Wil.

  Peg, unarmed and following behind them, pulled the door closed and leaned back against it, her face pale with fear as she watched the five of them pounding up the road towards Scrubby’s home.

  As they turned off the road and moved single file up the track toward Scrubby’s little house, they could see a darkness near the front door that at first glance they took to be a shadow. But then it moved, leaping into the air and launching itself in their direction.

  All hearts except Caron’s froze with terror as the creature bore down on them. With a shrill cry, she drew back her arm and threw one of her daggers with sure aim, piercing it at the joint where its right wing joined its shoulder. It pinwheeled and fell heavily to earth not more than twenty feet in front of them.

  At Caron’s cry, Morgan emerged from the terror which held his courage in thrall and he leaped forward, his great sword grasped in both hands as he attacked. The creature reared itself to its full height upon its clawed feet, its eyes glowing with their unnatural red light as it turned toward Morgan.

  Looking up at the creature looming more than two feet above him, Morgan went to his dance, dodging to his left, then his right while his sword appeared to stay on an unwavering middle course toward the place where the creature’s heart should be. As he came, the creature’s throat swelled and its mouth opened wide.

  At the last moment, Morgan leapt off the path as the creature made a loud coughing sound and a great burning glob of poisonous green mucous hit the ground at the point Morgan would have been standing. As he landed and rolled into an upright fighting position to the creature’s left, it took a clumsy swipe at him with the claws that extended from the joints of its wings. Again Morgan rolled but this time just behind its legs. As he went past, his great sword reached out, slicing its tendon at the level of what would be the ankle of a human. As the creature lurched to the side of the injury, Morgan regained his feet and slashed deeply into the muscle of its upper back.

  All during Morgan’s furious attack, the others had been worrying at it with thrown branches and stones, daggers and shouts. One of Thisbe’s daggers protruded from the side of its neck, but it seemed not to notice the injury.

  As the wounded creature rounded once more on Morgan, Kemp’s great hammer flew through the air, striking the horror squarely in the eye, shattering the socket and puncturing the red globe of the eye itself. Glowing red fluid oozed from the broken socket, running down its face and dripping, sizzling, onto the ground.

  Taking immediate advantage of the creature’s blind side, Morgan stepped in close and ran his blade up under where he presumed the rib cage would be, up and in to where an animal’s heart would be beating.

  Again, the creature coughed, but this time there was no poisonous glob forthcoming. Instead, black blood bubbled between its fangs as it stumbled forward, still trying at the last to reach its enemies.

  Morgan retreated toward Scrubby’s house while the rest of the group moved slowly back toward the road ahead of the failing creature. With a gurgling gasp it collapsed on the pathway, twitching for the space of several moments before it stopped moving altogether. As the group watched, it trembled as if bubbling inside before subliming to a purplish-blue gaseous cloud that swirled briefly above the ground where it had fallen. It disappeared with a shriek into the sky, the first sound other than the coughing noises that it had made during the entire encounter.

  Morgan was the first to move toward Scrubby’s house following the vaporization of the creature. As he arrived, Scrubby appeared in the broken doorway.

  “Where’s Wil?” asked the swineherd as he fell to his knees, the grip of stark terror still written on his face.

  Wil had awakened at almost the same instant as Caron in her room at the inn. Like her, his heart was pounding, the feeling of terror overwhelming him. As he sat up, a green glow pulsed within the gemstone lying upon his chest. Without thinking he rolled quickly from his cot and threw his clothes on, not bothering with any laces other than those absolutely necessary to keep his breeches from falling around his ankles.

  He ran to the door and pushed it heavily open, ignoring the noise it made scraping across the stones at the doorstep. The force of his exit tore the leather hinge at the top of the door, leaving it leaning at a drunken angle as he ran down the narrow path, down to the road and away from the feeling of horror that hovered over the house. Behind him, a dark shadow swept down to the road and shuffled up the rutted pathway toward Scrubby’s house.

  Wil ran without thinking, mindless of his condition or destination.

  You must come to me.

  I am coming.

  As he passed the little hog wallow he had sat beside while wrestling with his identity earlier in the day, the Old Forest came alive with light and a glowing pathway showed through the heavy undergrowth. Simultaneously, the glimmering of the gemstone waxed and a wind sprang up around Wil, whipping his hair and clothing as it swirled around him. The voice of his vision echoed again in his head. You must come to me.

  I am coming, he responded as he turned and ran toward the forest and the summoning voice. There was no sense of false motion this time as he approached, no sensation of rushing through time or space. Instead, as he ran he felt the slap of branches against his face and body, and saw clearly the curious faces of the forest creatures watching him. He ran until he could run no more and finally stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. The forest hushed around him and a feeling of great peace and safety settled within his mind. Without further thought or awareness, he fell soundly asleep.

  22

  Scrubby had watched the battle from inside his house and now he shrank away from Morgan who glowered d
own at him, his battle lust still evident. The rest of the group walked up and Caron stepped between Morgan and the cowering swineherd, extending her hands and lifting him from where he knelt trembling just outside the sagging door.

  “You do not know where Wil is?” she asked, trying to not succumb to panic. Scrubby shook his head. “What can you tell us of what happened here?” she continued.

  Scrubby squatted down and sat heavily onto his backside before shaking his head once more. As she talked with Scrubby, Morgan had gone into the house to look around and now emerged looking slightly less grim.

  “It appears he left in great haste. He did, at least, have time to dress, for his clothes and the green stone are missing, but that is all. He took nothing else with him.”

  Caron reached out once more to take hold of Scrubby’s hands and pull him to his feet. “Come with us, Scrubby. We’ll all stay at the inn for the time being.”

  As she supported Scrubby, she turned and spoke quietly to Mitchal. “See what you and Morgan can find and meet us back at the common room.”

  Caron, Kemp and Thisbe led Scrubby through the broken door to his home and helped him collect the few items he would need for a day or two. While they did that, Morgan and Mitchal walked slowly around the house, searching for any sign of Wil’s passage. They ended up back at the door as the others emerged.

  “We have found no sign of Wil,” Mitchal said. “Any tracks he might have made in this direction would have been easily obliterated by our battle with Greyleige’s creature.” At Caron’s concerned look, he added “It’s most likely that he came this way, Highness, heading for the road and only the powers know where else.”

  “Mitchal and I will search the road in both directions to pick up his trail, if there is one,” Morgan offered. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as they realized that the creature they had battled might not have been alone prior to their arrival.

  “We will await your findings at the inn,” Caron said, her mouth set in a tight line. She didn’t want to share with the others her own concern that the creature had found Wil even though he wore the elfstone about his neck.

  Mitchal and Morgan walked down the track to the road and began their search as the others turned toward Three Oaks, with Scrubby being supported by Kemp and encouraged by the ladies.

  After searching briefly in the direction of Three Oaks it became apparent that Wil had not gone east, so they turned back and resumed their search in the opposite direction. Here they found indications that Wil had gone that way recently. Arriving at the spot where Wil had turned for the Old Forest, his tracks disappeared completely as if they had been erased. They scoured both sides of the road, from the margin of the Old Forest to the stone fences of the tilled fields but found nothing. It was as if he had been plucked from the earth.

  Mitchal looked soberly at Morgan. “I don’t fancy having to tell the Princess that we have found nothing,” he growled. “Or worse, nothing which might be something.”

  Morgan nodded. “I don’t fancy having to tell any of them.”

  Scrubby had been put to bed and covered well to keep him warm as his system fought the shock of having witnessed the creature’s attack and the aura of terror that surrounded it. The rest of the group stood or sat in the deserted common room considering Mitchal’s report. Caron, who had been leaning against the large mantel over the fireplace, pushed away from it and started pacing back and forth. “No footprints at all,” she muttered as she paced. “And the creature found him despite the presence of the gemstone.” She stopped pacing and turned to her guardsman. “Describe it again, please, Mitchal.”

  “It is clear that he had been in the area at some point, Highness. Most likely more than one time over a fairly short period since there appeared to be two sets of his boot prints approaching, but only one returning.”

  Her brows knitted in thought. “And his were the only prints?”

  “Other than those of some swine and our own, I would have to say ‘yes’, Highness,” Mitchal replied evenly.

  “There can be only one of two explanations,” Caron said, ceasing her pacing. “The first is that he was snatched from where he stood on the road by one of those loathsome creatures. The second is that he is in the Old Forest.” She looked around at the others who wore puzzled looks on their faces.

  “I expected the gemstone would serve as a protection against discovery, but my heart tells me there may be considerably more to it. Our history tells us the gemstone is of elven origin. As such, it would be anathema to those foul beasts should they even be able to sense it. It would seem likely that even if one of those creatures was somehow able to sense him, it would not be able to physically touch Wil while he was wearing it, and if he had lost it somehow, Mitchal or Morgan would likely have found it.” She tapped the end of her index finger against her teeth as she often did when puzzling things out in her mind. “Had the creature truly been able to sense Wil’s presence, it would not still have been at the entrance to Scrubby’s house when we arrived, it would have been following Wil.

  “My instincts tell me that the creature was somehow directed to Scrubby’s. I believe that Wil fled when he sensed the creature’s presence and that he is in the Old Forest, safe and well-protected for now.”

  It was what they all wished to hear and there was a collective sigh of relief as they accepted it as truth, though no one cared to voice the obvious: How had the creature come by the knowledge that Wil was staying in Scrubby’s house in the out-of-the-way village of Wisdom?

  After a moment of silence, Kemp asked, “How many of those creatures do you suppose there are?”

  “I believe there were originally five,” Caron answered, “one from each of the points of a pentagram, a five pointed star with immense powers of evil, for it would require nothing less than that to summon such loathsome corruptions.”

  A voice from the hallway caused them all to jump slightly. “So, where’re the rest of ‘em?” Scrubby asked as he emerged from the darkness.

  “Scrubby!” Kemp shouted, grabbing him about the waist and whirling him around in the air, “you’ve returned to us.”

  The swineherd looked puzzled as Kemp returned him to the floor. “Where’d I go?” he asked.

  Caron gave him a relieved smile as the others laughed at his confusion. “I was concerned for you, Scrubby. That was a great shock for you to have your home violated by such a foul presence.”

  Remembrance flashed in Scrubby’s eyes but he ran his hand over his face and the cloud passed. “Wil is alive after all, then?” he said, the inflection somewhere between a statement and a question.

  “I’m certain of it,” Caron answered, her voice firm with conviction.

  “So, where are the other four bogeymen?” Scrubby asked again.

  A far-off look crossed Caron’s face as if she was trying to see past the walls of the inn. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I suspect they are still searching, seeking to find our Wil, but they won’t as long as he remains in the Old Forest.”

  “Can’t you get a message to him through your spies and messengers to just stay there?” Scrubby asked.

  “I cannot,” she answered, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “The Old Forest is closed to all except those it allows in. And further,” and here her voiced dropped, “the texts say he must emerge to confront the evil that threatens our world.” She finished almost in a whisper, “He must confront Greyleige face to face, alone.”

  Scrubby reached out and patted the Princess’ hand. “He won’t ever have to face him alone as long as I’m around, Caron,” he said resolutely. “I won’t ever let him fight alone.”

  Caron smiled and grasped the swineherd’s hand in her own. The homely ease with which Scrubby had called her by her given name rather than her title had touched something inside her, and she saw what Wil saw in this simple man: Warm, caring, uncomplicated, trusting, loyal, unselfish. For just a heartbeat she felt a touch of jealousy at the unquestioning friendship Wil had foun
d in this man, but the jealousy turned quickly to respect. She leaned forward and gave him a hug. “I believe you, Scrubby,” she whispered into his ear, her voice threatening to betray her own confused feelings about the newly acknowledged wizard. “I know you’ll be there for him when he needs you most.”

  23

  Late the following afternoon, the group gathered in the Three Oaks’ courtyard to review their options.

  “We’ve accepted that Wil is in the Old Forest,” Mitchal said, “but what now? Do we wait for him to emerge, or do we plan some manner of attack or diversion against Greyleige?”

  “We have no way of knowing how long he’ll be in there,” Morgan observed. “I don’t see any way we could attack the old wizard directly, but I say that at the least we try to figure out some way to draw his attention away from here, if such a thing is possible.”

  “It would undoubtedly help Wil if there was some way we could draw Greyleige’s eye away from here,” Kemp said, “but I can’t see how it could be done since he’s already aware of Wil’s presence. For my part, I’m willing to stay here for the time being and wait for him. He’s certainly consumed a large part of my attention for the past two years and I want to do what I can to help him.”

  “Are we even sure he’ll ever come out of there?” Thisbe asked.

  Caron looked calmly toward the innkeeper. “He will come out, and I will be here waiting for him.”

  “Me, too,” Scrubby said. “He won’t want to stay in there long, being as it really belongs to the elves and all. He oughta be back here in just a couple of days.”