Princess of Wisdom: An Epic Fantasy Series (Wisdom Saga Book 2)

by W. C. Conner

  PRINCESS OF WISDOM

  ©2021 W.C. CONNER

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  Published by Aethon Books LLC. 2021

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading Princess of Wisdom

  ALSO IN SERIES

  1

  Standing resolutely as counterbalance to the evil which ceaselessly sought to overwhelm good in the world, the Old Forest was still every bit as bright with light and the newness of life as the world had been when both it and the elves came into being at the beginning of time The birds and animals of the Forest paused and turned to watch with curiosity as the stillness of the morning was interrupted when a young woman with dark hair and pale skin emerged from the boundary and gazed in wonder at the vibrant colors of the grasses and flowers and trees made even more vivid by the perfectly clear, baby blue sky.

  Only the second human ever to be allowed entry to the Forest against the proscription of the elves upon their departure, Princess Caron looked in awe at the miracle that had been created and protected thousands upon thousands of years earlier. The birds and animals and plants were all familiar, yet at the same time they were not, for their colors were so much more varied, so much more intense. Everything around her looked and smelled as if it had been freshly washed and sun dried in preparation for her arrival. She instinctively knew that this was how the world had looked when it was new and she wondered how darkness could exist anywhere in a world in which the power of this place existed.

  After the evil that the wizard Greyleige had brought to the world was turned away by the fledgling wizard Wilton, Caron travelled to the little village of Wisdom bordering the Old Forest in which her instincts told her the man she had found, followed, encouraged and ultimately fallen in love with now resided. There she had studied and consulted with the brotherhood of earth wizards that had been established nearby with the intent of finding a way to gain access to the Forest where she was certain Wil awaited her. But the key to her entry to the Old Forest had not been within any of the places she had looked. The key had been within that which she was seeking; for in the end, the key came seeking her.

  It had been a long night and Caron drowsed over a scroll at the Three Oaks Inn. Her head lay on her crossed arms on a table in the common room when the summons arrived. You must come to me.

  Without raising her head, she heard her answering question within her mind. How do I get to you?

  You must come to me.

  The summoning presence faded as her groggy senses cleared and she remembered that before he had learned of his heritage and his burden, Wil had been similarly summoned in a waking dream by the shade of the elf Gleneagle. Prior to that, he had wandered through an aimless, friendless life for sixty-five years before finding contentment and unquestioning friendship working for Scrubby, the village swineherd. His summoning shortly after his arrival in Wisdom was the first step of a turning in his life which changed both his own future and that of the world.

  It was early morning with the sun barely up as Caron roused herself, stretched grandly and looked around. Nobody was stirring within the building and she stood and touched the elfstone lying upon her breast. It glowed brightly in the soft light of early morning. She smiled, confident that the summoning of the dream from which she had just awakened had been a true one. Letting herself quietly out the side door of the common room of Three Oaks, she walked west on the road toward the Old Forest.

  The ancient grove of trees looked less forbidding, less formidable than it had in the past as she approached the edge of the Forest and she waited expectantly as she had done so many times before. She did not know what would happen, but she was certain that this time there would be no resistance, no pain, no confusion as there had been on her previous attempts to enter the Old Forest. And there was none. For this time a path opened before her, glowing as if in welcome and showing her the way she was to travel.

  After almost a week of walking on a path she could feel but not see, she found herself standing in the same opening in which Wil had stood when he received his instruction from the shade of the elf Gleneagle, her many times removed great grandfather.

  The green elfstone on its silver chain glowed brightly where it lay upon her breast and the world seemed to hold its breath as she spoke his name. “Wil,” she called softly. “I have come for you.” Her eyes closed as hope and fear warred within her. What do I say to the man I love after four long years? What do I do if my belief that he loves me as I do him turns out to be wrong? Either way, how am I to act…or react? Am I willing to let him kiss me right away? If not right away, when? And what then?

  After no more than a minute, her senses tingled briefly and she opened her eyes to find his image standing
before her. It was insubstantial at first, but as the moments passed it became more and more solid, more and more real, more and more animated until at last he stepped forward. She could see once again his piercing, steel gray eyes as they stared longingly into her own. After four long years she had found the man she had been dreaming of since he had disappeared in a silent flash of light at the height of his desperate confrontation with Greyleige.

  They stood thus for several long moments, neither one saying a word as they drank each other in. Caron could tell from the intensity within his gaze that the separation forced upon them had been as painful for him as it had been for her. Her fear fled her mind at the tears in his eyes which told her he loved her every bit as much as she did him. At last, the tension passed from his face and he smiled warmly at her, the invitation plain in his eyes. Caron could stand it no longer and stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, longing to kiss the lips that had been denied her for so long. But as she reached for him his image wavered, then faded slowly away.

  Caron cried aloud, tears springing to her eyes, “Wil, don’t go. Please don’t go. I worked so hard to get here for you. Please, Wil, please come back to me.” But she was greeted only with silence and she sobbed at her loss as the Old Forest became darker and darker around her until she could see nothing.

  A warm hand touched her shoulder. “Caron,” said a quiet voice filled with concern. “Caron, wake up. You’re dreaming again.”

  Her eyes opened and she looked around as if lost. As they found their focus and she saw her husband’s concerned face, she reached out and pulled him to her, burying her head against his neck as her tears continued to flow. Her whimpering and the very real tears in her eyes when she had these dreams worried him, for he loved her so very much that it hurt him deeply to see her in such distress.

  “Hold me close,” she said, the remnants of her weeping causing her voice to catch as she spoke.

  “That is all I have ever wanted to do since I first saw you when you were brought to me as a prisoner,” Roland whispered as he softly stroked her dark hair.

  After the tears had stopped and her breathing calmed, Roland kissed her forehead tenderly. “Sleep now, my love,” he whispered, and she did. Wrapped in the warmth and safety of the arms of the man who loved her such that he knowingly and willingly shared her with another who could never be hers, she drifted into a sleep undisturbed by the past.

  2

  No breeze stirred the air in the woods and rime stood upon the grasses in the clearings between the clusters of trees not yet fully budded this early in the season. The sky above was cloudless and crystal clear as only happens when the air is so cold it draws the moisture from it. Sparkling stars were the sole source of light on this night but the man did not look up at the glory above him. He walked slowly, a shadow moving among shadows in the darkness, casting back and forth with his head bent to the ground as he searched the darkness of which he was a part, his face invisible within the hood of his heavy black cloak.

  From time to time he stopped and crouched down, holding both hands out and softly reciting words intelligible only to him before reaching carefully into the darkest shadows as he finished weaving each spell of binding. Withdrawing his hands, he placed whatever it was he held into a leather bag that he wore at his belt. The creatures of the night watched him as he worked, sensing no evil in him but finding something about his presence disquieting nonetheless.

  The glow of dawn colored the sky as the cloaked figure now strode quickly toward his home, intent on getting to his bed for an hour or two of sleep before the day’s chores were to begin.

  On his way back from the privy, Scrubby stopped and noted the figure on the road walking briskly past the swineherd’s place. Now who would be out taking a walk at this time of the morning? he wondered before the chill air drove him to return quickly to his house.

  Lifting the latch, the door swung silently on the metal hinges that were the least part of the new home that had been built for him and Mattie as a wedding gift from Prince Gleneagle. But it truly was more than that; it was an expression of the respect and thanks for all he had done and all he had lost in the battle with Greyleige. For Scrubby had dared the terror of the tower at the center of Blackstone in defense of his friend, Wil. He was the only person to have seen Wil and Greyleige together during their confrontation and then survived the frightening collision of their magical summonings.

  Scrubby crossed the living area and tiptoed into the bedroom with its large feather bed. At a whimpering from the cradle next to the bed, Mattie leaned over and lifted little Ellen, then settled the baby next to her where both of them could be comfortable as the infant suckled.

  Scrubby slid in under the blanket, kissed Mattie’s cheek, then rolled over and was snoring within minutes as mother and daughter bonded in the dark. On the other side of the room, three-year-old Little Wil slept the untroubled sleep of childhood.

  Behind the house, a darkness blacker than coal floated out of the early morning sky and settled to the ground beside the spring bubbling out of the earth. As it touched the ground, the water of the spring briefly turned black, then returned to its normal crystal clarity as the animals of the woods came to it to drink.

  “Momma, momma. Come see. The animals are all dead out by the spring.”

  Mattie turned from the pot of porridge cooking on the stove to look at her three-year-old son. There had been no discussion about names when Little Wil was born. “He’s going to be named after my best friend, and that’s all there is to it,” Scrubby had declared as if expecting an argument from Mattie. But Mattie had it in her mind also that their first son would be named Wil, so there was no argument from her. However, because of the number of times that the wizard Wilton’s name came up in conversation, to make it clear who was being talked about or addressed, his namesake had come to be called Little Wil.

  “Oh now, Little Wil, not all of them are dead, are they?” she asked gently, knowing that his three year old imagination often saw what he wanted to see rather than what was actually before him.

  “Yes, momma,” he said, his eyes unwavering as he looked up at her, “all of them are dead.” And he took her by the hand and led her toward the door.

  As she followed him out the back door of their cottage, Mattie raised her hand to her mouth and let out an involuntary gasp of horror. Little Wil had certainly told the truth; there were more than a dozen animals lying dead by the side of the little spring behind the house, their limbs contorted, their necks stretched up and back as if in extreme pain – a deer, a pair of rabbits, a squirrel, and more.

  Little Wil started toward them, but Mattie grabbed him from behind, sweeping him from his feet and clasping him close to her.

  “Stay away from there, Little Wil,” she said as calmly as she could. He sensed her fear and made no attempt to wriggle free from her embrace. Mattie carried Little Wil into the house and set him down before removing the pan of porridge from the stove. Taking her wrap from the peg next to the door and placing it across her shoulders, she lifted Ellen from the cradle where she dozed peacefully.

  “Come along, Little Wil,” she said, taking him by the hand, “we’ve got to go get your papa.”

  As Scrubby turned the corner coming out of the side yard of Three Oaks, he looked down the road toward the east as was his habit, but there was nothing in that direction. Turning his attention to the west and home, he was surprised to see Mattie walking toward him with the children. As she came even with him, she indicated Three Oaks with a wag of her head before turning into its gates. Scrubby followed, curiosity clear in his expression.

  Thisbe and Tingle sat at the counter, a large mug of hot spiced apple cider beside each of them as they played a game of stones. From the looks on their faces it would be guessed that Thisbe was winning. She turned as the door opened and Tingle took the opportunity to change the position of two of the stones upon the board before turning around himself.

  Scrubby’s little family e
ntered with Mattie in the lead. “Little Wil,” Mattie said to her son, “go find Philip.”

  Philip had been nothing more than a tousle-haired boy when Thisbe had purchased Three Oaks from old Melvin after his wife died. He was now thirteen and had grown in both size and skill. It was clear that Little Wil fairly worshipped the still tousle-haired youth who, in turn, had virtually adopted Little Wil as a younger brother. Thisbe and Tingle treated Philip as the son it had become clear they would never be able to have. As Little Wil skipped into the kitchen to find Philip, Mattie turned to the other three who regarded her with puzzled looks, for she seemed far more serious than they had ever seen her before.

  “The spring is poisoned,” she said. “There are more than a dozen dead animals lying around it and there is some sort of shadow lying upon it.”

  “That would seem almost impossible, Mattie,” Tingle said. “The spring behind your house flows directly from the Old Forest itself. Why, that’s some of the purest water there is and it...” At the look in her eyes, he stopped.

  She shook her head and looked to Tingle’s wife. “Thisbe, will you take care of Ellen and Little Wil? We need to go see the earth wizards.”