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

by W. C. Conner

  “If this keeps up,” Scrubby said, looking at the meager amount of scrap they had collected, “I may have to slaughter a couple of the hogs to leave enough food to go around for the rest.” At a look from Kemp he added, “Oh, they won’t go to waste. I’ll see to that. I’ll smoke the hams and bacon myself. The rest I’ll sell to butcher Collins.”

  As he finished, both men jumped and turned toward the sound of children screaming in terror from the direction of Three Oaks. Without a thought, they broke into a dead run toward the old inn just as a figure emerged from the courtyard and ran with almost unnatural speed down the road and across the narrow valley toward the east.

  Thisbe ran out into the road after him, a throwing knife in her hand, but the man was too far away to waste the throw. She stopped as Tingle ran up beside her carrying his short sword.

  A cry from Peg turned them back toward the inn just as Scrubby and Kemp arrived. Together they went toward the back where they found Peg kneeling on the ground, cradling Philip against her chest. One of his arms was torn up and badly broken. There was blood everywhere. The three little boys peeked out of the side door of the inn, their eyes reflecting the terror that Kemp and Scrubby had heard in their screams.

  “We must get him to the wizards,” Peg said quietly, her tone emphasizing the severity of the youth’s wounds. Kemp lifted Philip gently from Peg’s embrace and started toward the gate with the rest of them following along.

  “Who was it?” Kemp asked.

  “It was Granger’s youngest, Terrence,” Thisbe said. “Obviously darkness touched. His eyes were blood red.”

  Eldred stood on the porch beside Peg and Kemp and the others as the senior healing wizard of the compound stepped out of the meeting hall door.

  “How does the lad fare, Bartholomew?” Eldred asked, the concern and frustration evident in his voice.

  “He is grievously injured, but he will mend with a little time,” the healer answered. “I probed his mind, Eldred, and I fear the hurt may be the most lasting there. He faced a terror to protect Little Wil and the twins that most grown men would shy from.”

  Tingle stood with his arms around Thisbe, holding her close as they listened. Her eyes were dry, but the shock in them was evident. “When can he come home?” she asked, her voice quavering.

  “You may take him now, if you wish,” Bartholomew answered, “though I would prefer to have him stay here a day or so.”

  “We will take him now. Kemp, would you carry him back for us, please?” She spoke softly, but iron was in her voice. “Eldred, what can we do to stop these awful happenings?”

  “I fear we don’t know, Thisbe,” he answered. “There is no single enemy to fight, no head to cut off the serpent that we can discern. We are powerless to stop this.” He looked toward the Old Forest as he continued. “Our best hope disappeared into the Forest two weeks ago. We can only wait and pray for her success.”

  Thisbe looked to Tingle. “As soon as Philip is fit to travel, we’re going to Gleneagle.”

  Peg nodded and turned to Kemp. “We’re going too, Kemp.” And at the look in his eyes, she added, “and this is not open to discussion. You may stay here if you wish, though I don’t want that, but the children and I are going.”

  Scrubby looked at Mattie and saw the fear in her eyes. “You go with them, Mattie. Take Little Wil and Ellen. I’ll stay here. As soon as Caron and Wil come out, then we’ll go, too.”

  Just inside the doorway, out of sight of the others, Gregory stood with his head bowed, a tear rolling down his cheek in frustration. I have tried so hard to protect these good people, he thought, and still I have failed them. The muscles in his cheeks clenched repeatedly as his frustration turned to anger. I will not fail them again. There will be no more darkness-touched in Wisdom. Turning on his heel, he strode purposefully across the hall and let himself out a side door.

  As Kemp stepped off the porch of the meeting hall with Philip cradled in his massive arms, Gregory entered his cabin and lay down on his bed. Crossing his arms on his chest, he dropped quickly into the regenerative wizard’s sleep he would need to pursue the darknesses that floated to earth during the night around Wisdom.

  In the cave, the amorphous clot of blackness pulsed, aware of the movement of Terrence as he obeyed his primary imperative and began his furtive journey toward Blackstone.

  10

  The ground was illuminated brightly by the full moon high in the night sky as Gregory tracked back and forth in the woods surrounding Wisdom. Since Philip had been seriously injured by the darkness-touched Terrence, Gregory had driven himself through night after night of searching for patches of darkness as they floated from the sky as well as any errant spots of darkness he might have missed previously.

  At the end of each long night he traveled the tunnel to the cave deep under the earth and added the night’s harvest of darkness to the amorphous mass trapped in his carefully constructed spell of binding. Mornings found him passed out fully clothed on his bed, lying in the attitude of the wizard’s sleep.

  Eldred looked up from his table as Gregory walked into the meeting hall just past noon. He looked with concern at the younger wizard’s haggard face and unkempt appearance, then cleared his throat to awaken Gregory to his presence. “Good afternoon, Gregory,” he said, “did you have a productive night?”

  Gregory turned toward him and Eldred’s concern mounted as he looked at the haunted face staring back at him. The eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot from too much exertion and too little sleep. His hair was uncombed and his normally clean-shaven face had dark stubble that made him appear to be one of those unfortunates who had given their lives over to the excesses of alcohol rather than the habitually fastidious wizard that he was.

  “By the powers, Gregory,” Eldred said, “you don’t look well at all.” The younger wizard stared hollow eyed toward Eldred as he continued. “I really do think you should at least attempt to train one of the other wizards to aid you in this. I’m certain we could get at least one volunteer willing to make the attempt, even knowing the probable price of failure.”

  “No,” Gregory’s voice rasped. “No other may do this. It is too dangerous.” For only a moment, Eldred saw a look of fear on the other wizard’s face before his expression closed to conceal his emotions once again. “I must do this alone or not at all. I owe it to young Philip and Terrence and all the others.”

  “Gregory,” Eldred began, but the younger wizard stopped him.

  “No,” he repeated. “I must do this my way.”

  With that, he turned and retreated from the hall, leaving a concerned Eldred staring after him, his brows knit in thought.

  It was only a few days after Gregory’s encounter with Eldred that a wisp of purple blue vapor curled around itself in front of the pulsing darkness being held by the spell of binding deep in the cave. The vapor formed itself into a translucent suggestion of a woman’s nude body. Glowing yellow spots where the eyes should be looked around the cave and beheld the mass of blackness. Her perfect mouth smiled cruelly as she reached out to caress the mass. As her hand touched it, she recoiled so suddenly and so violently that she ended up at the far side of the cave, staring in shock at the black clot. Holding her hand out with her index finger pointing at the mass, she released a shimmering bolt of energy which shattered into countless shards of red light flying in all directions the instant that it touched the surface of the binding spell.

  Her eyebrows raised in curiosity as she approached the darkness once again. Leaning cautiously toward the blackness, she sniffed at the spell of binding.

  I know you, she thought. You have faced my creations before. A vindictive smile crossed her face as her eyes flared from their previous pale yellow to the color of a burning yellowish-red flame.

  When she straightened up and reached into the air with both arms, the vapor of which she was composed lost its shape. With a brief, high pitched shriek of laughter, the vapor departed the cave as if it had been sucked into a hollo
w reed.

  The mass of darkness pulsed more quickly now. It had successfully tested the spell of binding and managed to open a path for one who had been to this world before; one who carried enough power to cause the spell of binding to be undone. But she had rebuffed the mass of darkness and left it behind in its spell-wrought prison. It swung its focus of hatred back toward the darkness-touched that were gathering in the low hills and shallow valleys of the Crelleon plains.

  The group of five wizards walked atop the battlements of Blackstone, enjoying the warmth of the night. A waning gibbous moon illuminated the plains before the gates in pale shades of gray. These traditionalist wizards had come to refer to themselves as “Orthodox Wizards”, while the group which had created the new compound just west of Wisdom and hard against the Old Forest referred to themselves as “Earth Wizards”. Along with a scattering of Lesser Wizards, the Simple Wizards without exception had followed Eldred to the new compound. In contrast, every one of the Orthodox Wizards remaining behind at Blackstone was a Lesser Wizard, starting at the level of medium ability and stair-stepping up to an ability just below that of Great Wizard. With the destruction of Greyleige, there were no living wizards who had been identified as Great Wizards, and those remaining behind at Blackstone almost universally harbored the ambition to become a Great Wizard.

  Looking idly out over the darkened plain, one of the wizards stopped suddenly and pulled at the sleeve of the man next to him. “Look out there,” he said, “do you see points of red light moving this way, or is it my imagination?”

  The other, after one quick glance, turned and started running back the way they had come. “It’s not your imagination,” he called over his shoulder. Then, turning toward the gates, he shouted, “Close the gates at once! Fell creatures surround us. We are besieged.”

  The instant he finished speaking, there was an eruption of blue and purple light at the center of Blackstone at the exact spot that Greyleige’s tower had once stood and purple bolts of lightning flashed out in all directions. The five wizards upon the wall fell senseless to the ground. At the same time, the sound of hundreds of animals howling erupted from the plains outside the gates. No resistance met the darkness-touched as they flooded into the compound, for all the wizards remaining in Blackstone lay stunned, as were the five upon the wall.

  Gravitating toward the light emanating from the ground previously occupied by Greyleige’s tower, the darkness-touched milled about as if waiting for something to happen. The air grew still, the movement of the darkness-touched ceased, and the atmosphere became charged with an indefinable sense of anticipation.

  After a long moment of utter silence, the naked figure of the demon woman materialized from the light; her impossible beauty and sensual aura beyond the ability of words to describe. No longer insubstantial as if made of flame or vapor, but solid now, she was yet of the same purple-blue hue as the flame from which she came. In her hand was a leash. At the other end of the leash Gregory walked without resistance, his eyes looking with undisguised lust at the mistress who led him. Unable to contain himself any longer, he threw back his head and howled his hatred and frustration to the moon above. Around him, the darkness-touched threw back their heads as he did and howled into the night air.

  The mistress of hatred looked about herself and smiled ruthlessly. You are pale reflections of what hatred truly is, but you will serve me well enough as I bring my true minions here.

  She raised her arms high into the air and turned slowly before her adoring creatures as they howled their lust and their hatred into the darkness. She exulted in the cruelty of the never to be slaked desire she aroused in the howling men and women surrounding her.

  “Look upon Styxis and despair,” she cried to the surging darkness-touched, “for you shall never have that which you lust after and soon you will all cease to exist with no path to the other side.”

  Styxis threw back her head and howled her delight into the night sky. Around her the darkness-touched, driven mad with hatred and lust at the sight of their mistress turning before them, tore off their clothing and threw themselves on whoever was nearest them in an orgy of violent depravity.

  Gregory stood within touching distance of Styxis as she turned before her howling minions, unable to tear his eyes from her body, unable to move anything except his eyes, unable to stop the tears that coursed down his face in horror at what he was being compelled by her powers to do. Forgive me, Wil. I am undone by the arrogance about which you warned me.

  In the cave beneath the earth, the clot of darkness quivered with rage and blind hatred of the demoness that had left it imprisoned in the spell of binding.

  11

  Caron awoke in stages. Her first awareness was of warmth, peace, safety and contentment. She pulled the soft blanket that covered her closer about her neck as her eyes opened and found their focus upon her clothes draped over a chair next to the bed in which she lay. The wholesome, soothing smell of drying herbs bathed her senses as she rolled over and closed her eyes once again.

  Though in the darkness, behind her closed eyelids, her mind had awakened along with her senses and the memories of her journey through the Old Forest and encounter with Wil caused her eyes to pop back open.

  Where am I? she thought anxiously. Am I home? She rolled back over to look at her clothes draped on the chair and ran her hand quickly over her body to discover that beneath the covers she was completely naked. I am definitely not home, she decided.

  Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she sat up with the blanket wrapped about her. “Hello,” she called, “is anyone there?”

  There was no answering call; no footsteps to indicate she had been heard; no feeling of anyone close. Caron shrugged the blanket from around her and reached for her clothes. As she finished dressing, she at last heard noises of movement from the next room.

  The smell of food cooking reached out to Caron and she opened the door, then stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame. Wil stood at a stove with his back toward her. She stood quietly watching him as he worked, knowing he was aware of her presence.

  “Who cleaned my clothes?” she asked softly.

  He answered without turning around. “I did, of course. There is no one else around. And before you ask, you might as well know that I cleaned you also.” At that, he finally turned and she saw the steel gray eyes which she had dreamed of so many times over the past four years. “You were really quite gamey after your trip, you know.” He grinned at her disarmingly. “I didn’t touch you, however. I’ve found my powers are quite remarkable.”

  “Did you... Did you... see me?” she asked, blushing as she did.

  Wil considered a moment before answering. “You are very beautiful, Caron,” he said at last, looking down and blushing more deeply than she had.

  The brief sense of embarrassment and anger she had just experienced at learning that he had seen her unclothed and vulnerable had been followed all too quickly by a feeling of titillation that made her uncomfortable.

  As he turned back to the stove and poked at the food sizzling in the pan, Caron’s stomach suddenly awoke. She walked over to where he worked.

  “I’m terribly hungry,” she said. “You said you had no meat while you were in the Old Forest before. That smells like bacon.”

  “It’s a root that is seasoned so it tastes and smells like bacon. I intended we would have that and some eggs, unless you would like something else, though there really isn’t much else to eat.”

  Caron lifted her hand hesitantly as if to touch Wil’s shoulder, but let it fall back to her side. After several long moments, she spoke again. “Did we...” she began softly.

  “No,” Wil replied to her unfinished question. “The languor you feel is time and the healing powers of the Old Forest working their magic. You were exhausted both emotionally and physically when you arrived yesterday.”

  Caron walked to the small table and sat down to stare out the window at the Old Forest surrounding th
e cottage.

  “It’s everything I dreamed it would be,” she said absently.

  Wil glanced at her. “Did you dream about it often?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I did.”

  Wil removed the “bacon” from the pan and took several eggs from a small basket. As he broke them into the pan and stirred them, he asked, “Did you ever have any dreams fulfill themselves?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Did what you see in your dreams ever come to pass?”

  Her face took on a faraway look. “Yes. When I was very young I dreamed my mother was going to die. I dreamed it more than once.” Her eyes became misty as she remembered the feeling. “She died just the way I saw it in my dream. I never told Daddy. When I was a child, I always felt it was my fault she was dead.” Looking up, she brushed at the tears with her fingers. “I know it wasn’t, of course, but it’s always bothered me.”

  “When we were on the road to Blackstone four years ago, I saw you rise up in your stirrups on more than one occasion and stare off as if you were trying to see what was over the horizon,” he said. “What was happening then?”

  “Mitchal asked me something similar recently,” Caron said, “only he said it always seemed like maybe I was seeing something beyond the horizon that he couldn’t.” She sat thoughtfully as Wil scraped the eggs onto a couple of small wooden plates.

  “I’ve been seeing things lately, Wil,” she said. “I’ve been seeing things about to happen in the future, and they are true seeings. And they’ve been happening while I’m awake.” She looked up at him. “What’s happening to me, Wil? That’s one of the reasons I came looking for you. I’ve got to know what’s happening to me.”

  Wil smiled at her, the look seeming almost one of sympathy. “You’re a witch, Caron,” he said. “The reason you were never aware of it before is because your elven heritage suppressed it and hid it from you as completely as it did from me and the rest of the world. You and I have much in common that way. Your potential is considerable, not much less than that of a Great Witch.”