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

by W. C. Conner

  “Where do I start?”

  No sooner had he spoken than one of the scrolls upon the ground glowed faintly. Wil sat down cross legged before it and took the scroll in his hand. As he did so the faint images of many more scrolls began to appear piled all about him on the ground. He unrolled the scroll in his hand. It was covered with runes with which he had no familiarity. As he looked at them, however, his mind perceived their meaning and the thoughts and dreams of the elves gone many hundreds upon hundreds of years flooded his mind.

  The first scroll started thus: “We are begun as the earth has begun for we are of the earth and the earth is of us.”

  Wil sat as he read and walked as he read, then walked as he considered what he had read, and ate fruit and vegetables when he became hungry and read more, and slept when it became too dark to read and woke up from time to time during the darkness to consider what he had read. And the next day he did the same, and the day after that and the next and the next. As he finished one scroll, he would know the next one by the faint glow it would give off, directing his hand to it.

  Much of what he read had already been revealed to him by the shade of Gleneagle. At the same time, much of it was nothing more than the hopes and dreams for the future by the writer and he would struggle to maintain his focus, perhaps not finding meanings or messages, but gaining the clear realization that the elves, though different in their origins, cared for the earth and its inhabitants much as he did, only more so for they were created with the earth and were thus of the earth. This, he realized, was that which had called to him in Scrubby, the common swineherd who lived so close to the earth from which all life was sprung.

  Increasingly he found himself becoming more and more a part of what he read, more a part of the lives of the departed elves, more a part of the flow of life, more a part of the Old Forest in which he sat, and more a part of the earth upon which all life depended.

  From time to time he would ask questions of the air around him concerning what he had read. On some occasions the shade would appear to answer him and other times only the voice of Gleneagle would respond. Sometimes the response would be as simple as “yes” or “no”. Other times the response would be extensive and detailed. Still other times the response would only leave Wil with more questions or even unable to make any sense at all from what he heard. On one or two occasions there was no response at all. Inexorably, though, Wil was permeated with that which made the Old Forest what it was and, without being aware of it, he was becoming a part of the Forest.

  On the fifth day he found the first of the texts which he could easily identify as relating to what he had already been told by the shade of Gleneagle.

  We cannot maintain here within the cycle of life and death with which man lives. It is their natural cycle to be born and to die, passing over to the other side of consciousness, but death is antithetical to what we are and for that reason we will leave this world of mortality to journey to where we can exist in that immortal state which is most natural to us.

  However, we do not leave this world without thought for that which we leave behind. As the original stewards of the earth and living things, we must care for those who remain.

  Wil stood and spoke to the air.

  “You have already told me much of what I have read here. Do the scrolls anywhere instruct me in the use of my powers?”

  We do not understand how the magics of man are called forth and are unable to instruct you, Gleneagle’s thought replied. It is important, though, that you use your powers sparingly – if at all – at this point, because the exceptional strength of the potential at your command would quickly and easily overwhelm you. The more often it is used, the more easily will you be subverted by the temptations of those powers toward evil. Most especially, it is of paramount importance that if you are compelled to use your powers, you must use them only in defense of life and not to destroy. Should you ever use them other than in defense of what the Forest is, you will be lost and the world will be plunged into the darkness of evil toward which the corrupted one works.

  “You have said I must face the wizard alone,” Wil continued, speaking aloud to the air once again. “You ask me to act as the champion of the forces within the Forest, but how can what I learn here help me if you do not understand human magic? It feels as if I am to be sent naked against his deadly magical weapons.”

  Because he is one man, he must be confronted by one man. We are powerless to alter that. It will be your own potential that strives against his.

  However, he has gathered great amounts of darkness to him and we will not leave you to fight this wizard and his collected powers of evil and hate without a way to summon equivalent or greater powers of goodness and love. Within the scrolls is a spell of high elven magic which will summon the powers of the Old Forest to the talisman I spoke of before. Once those powers are summoned, this talisman will overwhelm all but a greater amount of evil magics. That is the gift we left for the world.

  “How will I know this talisman?” Wil asked.

  You will know it when you find it in the scrolls.

  With a sigh, Wil sank once again to the ground and reached for the next scroll which glowed faintly within the pile before him.

  When he arose on the third morning following his last words with the shade, Wil found but one scroll on the ground near his head. He reached for it, expecting it to glow as had all the others, but this one did not glow. As he unrolled it, he immediately knew that this was the scroll which would give him the counter to Greyleige’s evil. It was dedicated to but one subject.

  Herewith are recorded the instructions and enabling high elven spells for the talisman which will summon to it all elven magics contained within the Old Forest. This talisman may only be enabled and unlocked by the one who is the key to the restoration of balance between good and evil at the time of uttermost need for the world we have left behind.

  May the powers of life and goodness protect and aid the key to whom this trust is given.

  Unrolling the scroll yet more, Wil’s eyes crinkled in amusement and he chuckled grimly in spite of himself as the drawing and specifications for the talisman were revealed.

  26

  The sun had risen and a shaft of bright light flooded through the open side door of the Three Oaks, allowing a warming breeze to carry through the common room and out the open front door. Scrubby sat with his legs drawn up on a bench at the side of the fireplace, a tankard of ale balanced on top of one of his knees as the companions discussed what their next move would be. “I miss Wil,” he snuffled, the unaccustomed early morning ale controlling his emotions. Another tear escaped the side of his eye and he wiped it away with his sleeve. “My only real friend ever, lost in the Old Forest.” Even in his distress, he made a half hearted sign against evil. “Probably just a ghost or a twisted creature of some sort by now. That’s what happens to folks that go in that place.” He set his tankard down on the bench and put his head down on his knees in deep misery.

  “We cannot enter the Old Forest, Tingle,” Caron was saying. “The proscription against entry comes not from my father, but from the elves who created it. The Old Forest is closed to us.”

  “But we can’t just sit around here doing nothing, Highness,” Mitchal said, knowing that Caron had stopped trying to break him of that habit. “There must be something we can do.”

  “I’m for following Morgan and Kemp,” Thisbe said decisively. “At least they’re not just sitting around talking this thing to death. At least they’re going to help the Prince.”

  Scrubby’s snuffling was the only sound in the silence that greeted her contribution until the soft footfalls of someone approaching caused Caron to look up expectantly.

  “I’m starved for a piece of meat,” came Wil’s voice from the open doorway.

  Scrubby fell off the bench, taking the tankard with him, before scrambling to get to his feet. Thisbe’s eyebrows went up as if in disbelief while Tingle and Mitchal relaxed visibly as Wil
entered the room. Caron’s composed face gave no indication of her reaction to Wil’s appearance.

  “Wil!” Scrubby cried as the tears coursed down his face. “You’re back. I was afraid you were gone forever, what with you being in the Old Forest for so long and all.” He fell on Wil, hugging him and backing off to look into his face, convincing himself that it truly was his friend, then pulling him close again in an elated hug.

  Wil smiled fondly at Scrubby. “Yes, I’m back Scrubby,” he said, removing himself from the embrace and looking into his eyes. “I wasn’t harmed, nor was I ever in any danger there.”

  Looking around at each of them, he continued, “The Old Forest is not what we’ve been led to believe all our lives.” As his glance fell on Caron, he saw a relieved comprehension within her eyes. “It is not evil. It’s a storage vessel for the magics of love and life and hope, gifted to the world by the elves upon their departure. It is not for us individually, however. It is for balance, but the balance is in danger.”

  Tingle’s eyes flashed. He knew where the danger lay. He knew what Wil would say next.

  Looking toward the kitchen, Wil’s words confounded Tingle’s expectation. “Before I tell you everything that I can, though, I truly am starving for a good piece of meat. I’ve had nothing but fruit and vegetables for the past three weeks.”

  Wil shoved the trencher away, belching impressively after a long draw at his second tankard of ale. His eyes remained clear, however, and there was a presence about him that had never been there before. The closest he had been to this sort of self-assurance had been when he had accepted the simplicity of life as Scrubby’s assistant swineherd. The change was noticeable to everyone except Scrubby who had never seen Wil as anything other than a person wanting peace and friendship and a place to belong.

  Caron’s eyebrows lifted in secret amusement at the casual vulgarity of Wil’s belch as he looked toward her. “It appears to have been more than luck that had you gift me with your gemstone,” he began. “It did far more than warn me of whatever horror it was that settled on Scrubby’s house that night. Without it I would have met my death upon setting foot in the Old Forest, had I even been able to, for a decree of death for all men was placed on the forest before the elves departed. I learned this from both the elf Gleneagle and the scrolls stored within the Old Forest.

  “And more, I learned a fact that I believe was lost to your family, Caron.” He looked her in the eyes. “There were four scrolls in the box with the gemstone, is that correct?”

  She nodded.

  “There were originally five,” Wil said. “The first told your great half-elven grandsire of his true parentage. Gleneagle was the only elf allowed to leave behind his life-force gemstone to maintain an awareness of this world. The authority to do it came from the king of the elves at the time of the final departure. Your grandsire was that king, and that was the reason for his personal concern for the progeny of the royal son he never knew.” Caron’s expression changed to one of wonder. “It was left behind not only to allow him a continuing awareness of this world, but to maintain an elven strength in your family’s heritage and to aid you in your efforts against such a time as we face now.

  “As well, he told me of the scrolls which accompanied the elfstone and the charge it contained.” Caron looked from Wil’s eyes to the gemstone he had removed from around his neck and was holding out to her, then back to his eyes. “You accepted a fearful, desperate responsibility, Highness. Knowing your heritage as I now do, I do not wonder at the strength I have sensed in you.”

  All eyes were on him as he continued, “The elf Gleneagle summoned me in a vision several weeks ago in which I was shown the scrolls even before I learned what I was. A compulsion was set within me then to go to him, though I didn’t know where or why I was to go, or what to expect when I got there. I remember my confusion at the time, and that there was no question in my mind that I would eventually obey that call. What has come to pass for me is the fulfillment of his hope and calling to me.

  “The scrolls in the Forest are the history of the elves from the beginning of time until their departure from these lands. They were given to me to discover what I could about the times through which we are now passing. There is much of the mundane in them but there is also much of specific interest for our world today.” Looking from Tingle to Caron he said, “The shade of Gleneagle told me of a talisman that must be made which will summon the powers of the Old Forest to it. Near the end of my time in the Forest I was given a scroll which told me specifically what the talisman is and how it is to be made.” He paused a moment before adding, “We will need Kemp.”

  The following morning Caron and Mitchal left early to travel to Muirshead to procure enough horses for the party that was to catch up with Kemp and Morgan. After seeing them off, Wil went back into Three Oaks and sat down on a bench next to the fireplace accompanied by Scrubby, who sat down beside him. Taking up two long stemmed pipes, they smoked contentedly together as Scrubby told Wil of all that had passed in Wisdom since the terrifying night the seeker had shown up on his doorstep.

  As Scrubby was finishing his tale, the front door of the common room opened and Wil looked up to find two men in wizard’s robes framed in the doorway. Eldred entered accompanied by another wizard. His eyes went immediately to Wil as he crossed the room.

  “You are Wilton,” he said, less as a question than a statement.

  Wil bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I am.”

  He indicated his companion. “This is Bartholomew. He is a Lesser Wizard whose strength lies in healing, and I am Eldred. I, too, am a Lesser Wizard though my several talents crowd me hard against the level of a Great Wizard. However, I do not covet the temptations that come with such a level of potential.”

  He turned a knowing eye on Wil. “It is apparent to us that there is within you the potential to challenge Greyleige.”

  “So I have been told,” Wil said.

  “Have you also the necessary command of the magic your potential is capable of?” Eldred asked. “Greyleige is skilled in the dark magics and will be a formidable opponent. You will need to have all your skills and your wits about you when you face him in battle.”

  “I have never performed any magic,” Wil responded. “The simple fact is that I have no idea how it is done. The instruction I received in the Forest concerned itself with steeping me in the purity of the gentle powers that I might resist the corruption I have been asked to oppose.”

  “You have never performed any act of magic?” Eldred exclaimed in alarm. “You have been asked to confront Greyleige having never performed any magic?”

  Wil shrugged casually, though his stomach turned over at the sudden realization that he might, indeed, be facing bolts of magical lightnings and other unearthly summonings. “The one who instructed me told me that my weapon will be my potential, not my skill with magic,” he responded.

  “Did your instructor ever face any wizard with the potential and powers of Greyleige?” Eldred asked.

  Once again, Wil shrugged. “I was instructed by the shade of the elf, Gleneagle, the forebear of the house of Gleneagle. I have no idea if he ever faced a wizard such as Greyleige before the elves departed.”

  Eldred looked grave as he continued. “We have watched Greyleige since before he became High Altarn, Wilton. He was hundreds of years old when he was elevated to his position sixty years ago. In the intervening years he has gathered more and more power to himself. It’s even said he has killed other wizards in the past to ensure he had no rivals.”

  Wil looked up quickly at Eldred’s statement. Did he know something about what had happened to his father? He had a thought to ask but changed his mind as he remembered one of the explanations given him by Gleneagle of a passage he had found in one of the scrolls. “You must always beware of the unhealthy emotions such as revenge and hatred,” he had told Wil, “for even after you have come fully into your power they can quickly erode the influences of goodness and love in
which you are being immersed here in the Old Forest. You must never let such evil emotions guide your actions or you run the very real risk of becoming what the corrupted one already is.”

  Wil composed his face as he ignored his desire to ask Eldred if he had known his father; to ask him if Greyleige had been responsible for his father’s death. If Greyleige was indeed the one who killed my father, he thought, it would profit me nothing to know that now. What was important was not how he died, but how he lived. Wil smiled at the memory of his father, of his love and protection and kindness, of his gentle caring even for the bitter woman he had married after Wil’s mother had died.

  “I know that Greyleige had been practicing magic for centuries before I was even born,” he confessed, “and I can’t deny that I’m concerned at my lack of knowledge and experience with its use, but the elf told me that I must be careful in my use of magic at this stage of my development - there is danger to me in its use.”

  He cocked his head as he regarded Eldred. “Perhaps you can help me,” he said. “While the elf was very clear that I should be wary of performing any magic, he said nothing about being instructed in how it is done.”

  Eldred smiled and sat down on the bench opposite Wil. “That much, at the least, I can certainly help you with, and I suspect that you may find it surprisingly easy. In fact, for you it may come almost too easily and I would guess that therein lays the danger of which the shade warned you.”

  “Just how, pray tell, is it done?” Wil asked.

  “In point of fact, there are many ways that magic can be called,” Eldred replied. “Some of them involve the reciting or chanting of magical words. Others use symbols or objects of power. Still others involve exotic substances, while some require living as well as dead plants and animals or parts of them, and some use fire and smoke to help the wizard achieve the desired end. There are group spells in which two or more wizards join their powers to create a magic which multiplies the effect and generates a spell with a power greater than the sum of the participants’ potentials when properly done. The most common form of this type of magic is effected through communal chanting. In the blending of magic potentials it is possible to perform magic that no one among the group is capable of individually. It was this type of spell that allowed our band of twelve to defy the power and terror of the seekers as we fled here from Blackstone.