Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) by Christopher Jackson-Ash (chromebook ebook reader txt) 📖

“Impostor! Impostor!” Dammar spluttered, barely able to speak the words. His face had turned the colour of ripe beetroot. Manfred thought that steam would rise from his ears at any moment. He was surprised, though, by Dammar’s response. “Well were you named Manfred the Fool. I am past the need for a staff to carry out my magic.”

Dammar raised his right arm and his whole body became covered by blue flashes of electricity. He pointed his hand at Manfred. A jolt of green energy left his fingertips and lanced towards the seated wizard. Belying his aged appearance, Manfred was swift enough to turn his staff and deflect the energy away from him. The green bolt hit the door and turned it into used matchwood.

The next jolt was yellow in colour. Manfred was on his feet now and he used his staff to absorb the energy. Manfred seemed to grow in stature as his bent back straightened. His dull clothes became pure white. His hair and his beard flowed like milk in a dairy. His voice became strong and powerful. “I am no longer a slave to the whims of the Great Sages. I too have learned much over the long ages. You may be able to destroy me, but I doubt it. While we fight here, our enemy at the gate laughs at us both. We play into his hands.”

The next bolt of lightning was orange and it hung at the end of Dammar’s fingers ready to be unleashed. Manfred didn’t know whether he’d be able to resist it, and red was still to come. “You are right. There are more important battles to be fought.” Dammar dropped his arm and the blue electricity faded away. Manfred relaxed a little and sighed.

Dammar began to speak again. “We still have an issue to resolve.” He was interrupted by Aglaral rushing into the room.

“Forgive my intrusion. I would have knocked but your door seems to have disintegrated.” He continued as if such disintegration were a common occurrence where wizards were concerned. “I have news from our spies.”

Manfred sat down, indicating that the two others do the same. “You may speak freely in front of Lord Dammar.”

If Aglaral were shocked by this revelation, he kept it well under control. Perhaps the gossips had already passed the news around. “As you wish, my Sage.” Manfred couldn’t help but smile at the deference shown by Aglaral to him, rather than Dammar. “We are now certain that Gadiel is not with the army that surrounds us. I’m afraid to report that it is commanded by a wizard.”

“Weylyn the Wolf,” Manfred said. “It is good news that Gadiel is not here. He must be busy in other dimensions. It means that the last battle is not yet upon us. He sends his general to distract us. He seems to be succeeding.” Manfred shot a dagger glance at Dammar. “What else have you learned?”

“Weylyn often takes animal form, especially that of a wolf. He has an army of the undead at his command. They seem to revere him.”

Dammar spat, which seemed out of character for such a beautiful boy. “Weylyn was once in my confidence and service. He knows about the Sword and the Hero. He was with me in Illium when Gadiel arrived. He must have plotted behind my back with Gadiel. Like me, he has traded his soul to the devil. I wonder what his bargain was. I wonder what cruel trick Gadiel has played on him?”

“Command of the armies of evil, it sounds like. Master of FirstWorld after Melasurej is overthrown, I shouldn’t wonder. Immortality, as leader of the undead, I would speculate,” Manfred mused. “In any event, this is good news. We have power enough at our disposal to defeat him, should the need arise. We have time to learn more about the battles in other dimensions. We have the opportunity to plan an effective campaign. This is not the Last Battle. The script for that was written long ago and this doesn’t follow it. The Last Battle should have two armies, the elves representing Law and the dwarves representing Chaos fighting for the prize of Melasurej. The third army, the human army, would be forced to make a choice. Their choice would sway the battle. Gadiel has confused the issue. We simply have an army of evil camped at our gates. The other matter need not be discussed further at this time.” Manfred smiled. For the first time in ages, he felt a glimmer of hope. “You will stay and fight with us?”

“Of course, where else would I go?” Dammar replied. “I would have my vengeance on Weylyn, who I name Weylyn the Traitor, for usurping the wizard’s role ordained by the Great Old Ones. I will take charge of the defence of Elannort.” Like hell, you will.

“With all due respect, Great Sage,” better defer to his vanity a bit, “you have been away from Wizards’ Keep for a long time. Along with the Hero, you are our greatest weapon and you will need to lead the army into battle. I propose that you join our council of war, which I chair. It comprises Taran of the Elves, Jhamed al Suraqi, Aglaral of the City States, Dawit son of Dia son of Din, and Ventris Captain of the Tower Guard. What do you say?”

Dammar looked hard and long at Manfred. Eventually, he spoke. “Very well, though I demand the right to veto any decision made.”

“So be it.” Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Manfred crossed his fingers behind his back. “What about Ubadah?”

“Begging your pardons, my Sages.” Aglaral followed Manfred’s lead and showed new deference to Dammar. “Ubadah is no longer in Elannort. He climbed the High Tower at dawn and has not returned.”

“Of course, the Sundering! It can only be the Sundering. Don’t you see, Manfred? I was wrong. You and I cannot control the outcome. The Sundering will decide everything. That is why Gadiel seeks to distract us. He wishes to prevent the Sundering and uses Weylyn’s lust for power for his own ends. I see it all now. How could I have been so blind? We must hurry to prepare for the battle; it will come soon, maybe even today. You must send your Hero back to the son. ‘When the two who are one return to the son, when the flame-haired child is first become, while the guardians sleep, Humankind will weep’. You were the sleeping guardian, Manfred. Don’t be asleep again today.”

Manfred sprang into action. The Council was called to order and decisions quickly taken. The plan that they had been working on for several months was put into action. Jhamed took charge of the civilian population. They were all moved into Melasurej, which Manfred and Dammar then surrounded with protective spells that would keep out all but Weylyn himself. The undead would not be able to cross. The Keep had been prepared in advance for its temporary occupants. Stores had been laid up and sleeping quarters provided. Additional latrines had been prepared. It wouldn’t be a holiday camp, but it would be comfortable enough for a brief stay. The Tower Guard rounded up the population. Each person was allowed to bring one small bag. There were some complaints, but a description of the undead was usually enough to sway even the most recalcitrant refugee. Only a few soldiers remained inside the Keep. If the wizards’ spells were broken, there would be little they would be able to do. They were there mainly to keep order in the event of panic.

A portion of the Tower Guard took up prepared positions near the edge of Elannort. Their role was to be predominantly defensive. They would defend the city if it were attacked. They had further positions prepared closer to the centre and would fall back to the Keep itself if that were needed. They would make their last stand with their backs to Melasurej. No enemy would breach the walls of Wizards’ Keep while a single member of the Tower Guard was alive. It would be Manfred’s role to marshal the troops. If necessary, he would fall defending Melasurej, his staff broken in the final defence of the Wizards’ Keep.

The bulk of the Tower Guard, led by its Captain, would form the attacking group. Dammar would be at their head. The battle plan would be simple. They would strike at the heart of the enemy. If Weylyn could be destroyed, the rest of his army would turn to a rabble and flee. It was a bold plan, almost suicidal, that depended on Dammar having the power necessary to defeat Weylyn and his undead. Dammar was confident, but Manfred was not so sure. Dammar exercised his veto, so it was a plan.

Aglaral, Taran, and Dawit all volunteered to join the attack group. Manfred overruled them. “I need you all with me. I fear that the battle will not be so easily won,” he told them out of Dammar’s earshot.

Simon, now clean, shaven, rested, and fed, wanted to join the attack group too. “You need Kin Slayer in this battle. I have a score to settle with Weylyn and his undead.” The sight of Dring running down and killing Jhamed remained fresh in Simon’s mind.

Manfred took his young protégé aside and spoke quietly to him. “You have a more difficult task to resolve today. I don’t know what will happen or how it will end. I know it will be difficult for you, but you must go back to that night in the clearing, when Ju died and the child was born. Ubadah will be there as well. Something will happen that causes the Sundering. I fear what it might be, but I cannot say anymore. Please, Simon, it is more important than the battle here, for without the Sundering this battle will be meaningless. Go now, to the High Tower. Do not adjust the settings. You must follow Ubadah. Follow your conscience. May the Balance protect you. Good luck, my friend.”

Death of an Innocent

As he stepped through the archway and felt the now familiar wave of nausea and pins and needles, Simon thought that he heard the faint echo of a curse and then a scream in his mind. Don’t leave, Red Boy. You are needed here. Come back! It quickly faded. Simon found himself back in the clearing. The fire was almost dead, it was cold, and he shivered in his nakedness. Kin Slayer was uneasy at his side and seemed to whisper a warning. There was no sign of Ubadah. By the height of the moon, he figured that he hadn’t been gone very long. A few minutes ago, he’d stood here and howled at the moon. He remembered the wolves; they wouldn’t be far away. He drew Kin Slayer and the sword hummed, its ruby glowing faintly. There was enough moonlight to be able to see reasonably well, his night vision had improved considerably these past few months. He made his way to the birthing stone. Close by, a wolf howled. The pack was near. They would not defile his Ju.

He took up a position with his back to the stone and waited. Soon the wolves appeared. The leader approached with a lolling gait, expecting an easy meal. He died before he realised that Simon was there. The rest of the pack attacked in anger. Kin Slayer revelled in the exercise. By the time six more wolves lay dead, the rest of the pack gave in to common sense and left to lick their wounds and fight over the unexpected leadership vacancy.

Simon gently picked up Ju’s body and wrapped it carefully in the skins she had been wearing. He carried her into the forest. Beneath an ash tree, he used a flat rock to dig a deep hole in the soft earth. When necessary he used Kin Slayer to help. The Sword cut through the tree