The Aptly Named Book of Lost Wisdom Volume 2

We know very little about the undead, and I know less than most. After all, I wasn’t present with Prince Eric and Prince Dahr when they encountered them in the Other Realm, and they’ve told me precious little about their experiences there. I wish I had pressed them for more detail when I had the chance. I’ll eventually have to learn what I can from Princess Chari, for I feel in my heart that they are the enemy. If that isn’t the case, why would the gods have trained the young royals to fight them?

Kalutu, The Book of Lost Wisdom

Seventeenth of Learning 1142

Jericho returned to the palace, and made his way toward Lord Ormund’s chambers. Ahead of him, a guard turned as if sensing his approach. The guard split his attention between the door to Lord Ormund’s rooms and the approaching Captain.

“Well?” asked Jericho as soon as he reached the guard.

“I followed him back to his rooms, and he’s been here ever since. Queen Treya stopped by to visit him but never entered.”

“The queen?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear what they spoke about?”

“No, captain, I did not try to eavesdrop on the queen,” said the guard pointedly.

“Of course, point taken. Continue to watch. I’ll send someone to relieve you shortly.”

Jericho had intended to report to the king, but he had to stop and consider. He went up to the palace roof. He looked up at the sky and guessed it was early afternoon. Well, Lord Ormund wasn’t going anywhere, and he needed to think.

He sat crossed-legged on the stone, letting the sun warm him. Years on the wall had darkened his skin to the point where he no longer risked a sunburn, at least not on a day like this. He closed his eyes and thought back.

He had been a young guard when he had been assigned to Princess Treya, entrusted to protect her by King Lyro of Sawheta. Sawheta, the home he hadn’t seen in almost 20 years. He hadn’t expected that when he’d come here. The princess’s welfare had become his entire life, and he loved it. He was her protector…at times, her confidant. She was razor sharp, brilliant, beautiful, and she had the will of an empress, but she would never be his. He’d known that all along, of course. No ordinary man could lay claim to Princess Treya, but then, Prince Terrence was no ordinary man.

Admittedly, Jericho didn’t like Prince Terrence when they first met. The young prince was too impressed with himself. Too full of bluster…but he could back most of it up. He could tell the princess was impressed with him and that meant she would let her guard down. But negotiations between King Lyro and King Cassius were not over, so Jericho had made certain to be present every time Princess Treya met with Prince Terrence, not only to protect her from the prince, but to protect her from herself. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the scandal if they had slept together and negotiations had fallen through. He would be blamed for not looking after her. And King Lyro was not a forgiving man.

He had been omnipresent during those days and even after the prince and princess had married. He was always there. He understood completely why King Terrence had moved him to the wall shortly after his father had passed on the throne. As far as he knew, the king’s parents were still alive, living in Andara somewhere. It was a right of passage for Twylian kings to step down while they were still young, travel to their ancestral lands and live out their lives, not as royalty, but as members of their tribe.

The wall had been a good change for Jericho. More activity. More combat. More challenge. It expanded his world, and though he never stopped loving the princess, she was married now, and others would have to protect her. And then, the Undead War began, and King Terrence had ridden off, leaving the queen unprotected.

Jericho had waited for the queen to summon him back to the palace, but it never happened. Day after day, he hoped, prayed, cajoled Sheba to grant him that one wish, but the goddess had rejected his plea.

Jericho had yearned to go to Queen Treya but did not. He watched from the walls and listened to rumors. The queen, apparently depressed or perhaps ill, had sequestered herself in her chambers, rarely emerging in public. He worried about her still. She would never be his, but that didn’t end his obligation to protect her. And then, the rumors started to reach him. The queen wasn’t always alone in her chambers. She had a male visitor. Lord Ormund, the mage.

Lord Ormund? Really? It didn’t particularly surprise him the queen had taken a lover, but that oaf? There was no way that could happen. Not with Jericho right there on the wall. She couldn’t have chosen the mage…not of her own free will. It wasn’t possible. He had used magic on her, and had her under some sort of spell. There was no other possible answer. And there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t prove it. And it was still possible that the rumors were just that. He wasn’t even sure it was happening.

But he listened carefully and spoke to other guards, men he trusted, old friends who had moved from the wall to the palace guard that he still kept in touch with, until he became convinced. And those who saw the queen, even briefly, said she looked pale and withdrawn. Surely that wasn’t natural. Not for Queen Treya. There was too much fire in her for her to retreat just because her husband was away. It had to be something the mage had done to her.

Jericho had wanted to interfere. Had wanted to do something, anything, but he had procrastinated too long, living in constant anguish at the thought of the mage, the fat fool, taking advantage of his precious queen. The rage built day by day until it grew too much for him to bear. Those were dark days. His men started to fear his temper, and the creatures that surrounded the city soon became targets of his wrath, even if they weren’t strictly a threat.

Finally, there was a shred of evidence that Ormund had the ability to control the minds of others. No one else in the palace had a high enough level to control Maynor, of that he was certain. He only needed to make the king understand. Whatever happened, they had to learn the truth about the mage. All that was left was convincing the king to use Sarith’s Cloak. King Terrence wouldn’t want to, but he would when Jericho told him. But the story he told had to be perfect. He couldn’t afford to get it wrong.

So he sat, under the sun, reflecting on just how much to tell the king. Because one way or another, Jericho was going to break Lord Ormund and make him confess…whatever the cost.

*

When Dahr woke, he didn’t stir. He wanted time to think without talking. He opened his eyes just a slit. He could feel the cart moving. A glance told him that Eric was still sleeping, which gave him time to explore his new senses.

From the moment he opened his eyes, the threads were everywhere. An impossible number to keep track of. Dahr dismissed them, and they all vanished, except for two that refused to disappear. The one that linked him to Eric was still there, bright yellow, thick like a cable, too powerful to ignore. The second was the same color, not as thick, and led far into the distance in the direction of Rish and Kalutu. A few other threads faded into existence, as if now that he’d gotten his bearings, he could deal with them. One leading to Chari, a paler shade of yellow than his link to Eric, and another to Striker, which was more of a fiery orange. Why was the thread between him and Striker so strong, and how did color figure into it. Did the flame-like color indicate danger? Enmity? These were the things he had to learn.

What did he know so far? Yellow seemed to be those closest to you. Those you loved. The brighter the yellow, the stronger the bond, and the more sure you were of them. That’s how he read it now at any rate. Of course, it could be anything. He was just guessing. It felt right however.

He called up the link to Eldiss, who seemed not to need sleep. He guided the cart to their intended destination. The thread between Dahr and the reborn driver was tenuous, less solid than the others, and it was gray in color, almost ghostly. What did that mean? It wasn’t an indication of danger. Too many questions and not enough answers, that was the problem.

Eric stirred and looked around, as if disoriented. “Dahr? Where are we?”

“We’re in a cart that Striker somehow arranged for us. How much do you remember?”

“Not much. I remember Stalker ramming into me, and then I attacked Striker, and she kissed me. That’s it.”

“No idea how long ago that was, since we both slept, but it will have been hours.”

“Hours? What happened?”

Dahr dropped his gaze.“Striker took control of you. You willingly followed her to a road, where this fellow,” he pointed to Eldiss, “picked us up in this cart. He’s also undead.”

“Reborn,” corrected Eldiss.

“As you say,” said Dahr. “How much longer?”

“We’re almost there. A little longer and you’ll be able to stretch your legs. My farm isn’t far from here.”

“Your farm?” asked Eric.

Dahr thought Eldiss was smiling, though he couldn’t see his face. “Just a little patch of land me and my lady bought a while back. We grow vegetables and herbs mostly. It’s a good life.”

“When you’re not kidnapping royalty,” said Dahr.

“Everyone has to pitch in in times of danger. It’s no different for us than it is for your lot. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I don’t know,” said Dahr. “Maybe it’s because we were taken from the palace against our will by someone who refused to tell us what she wants with us, or what will happen to us.”

Eldiss turned to look at him. “If you don’t try to escape, you won’t be hurt.”

“And if we do try to escape?”

“Then you will be hurt. But I’d prefer it if you just settled down and accepted the situation. It’s a beautiful area. The food is good. You’ll be well taken care of.”

Dahr looked at Eric, who shrugged.

“Fine,” said Dahr. “You don’t try to hurt us, and we won’t try to run. I don’t think we’re supposed to anyway.”

“Good. Oh, there it is now.”

In the distance was a small farm, pretty as a picture, looking nothing like you’d expect an undead farm to look. Probably because it was just a normal farm, and it was undead that happened to own it. Was that strange? Absolutely. But no stranger than anything else that had happened in the last couple of weeks.

The farm grew larger as they approached and, after a time, Dahr could make out details. There were three buildings, a barn, a house, and a small shed on the side of the house. Everything was made of wood, but it wasn’t ramshackle or uncared for, at least it didn’t seem that way from this distance. The house had been painted in bright colors, chiefly yellow and green, the barn remained unpainted but looked to be in good repair, and the shack looked almost new.

The house was a single story structure, enough for two people to live in, with probably only two or three rooms in it. He could see a couple of large shaggy, horned animals outside, which he took to be some kind of cow, and smaller creatures running around the shed…chickens? He couldn’t tell from this distance, but it looked like they might be.

There were several cultivated areas further afield and a small garden that seemed decorative in front of the house. It could have been the home of any young human farmer. He’d seen enough of the type when he was younger, before his mother had died and he’d moved to Rish.

Then Dahr noticed a young blonde woman standing on the porch in front of the farmhouse, waiting for them to arrive. He kept an eye on her as they drew closer, but like Striker and Eldiss, there was no way to see that she was anything but human.

He did, however, see the thick yellow thread running from Eldiss to the woman, indicating that at least he wasn’t lying about their relationship. That undead should have such relationships confused and surprised him. Perhaps there was more similarities to the sides than he had originally thought. But then he thought about the undead in the Other Realm and wondered why they had been so different.

These weren’t zombies, he realized. They weren’t animated corpses. They were sentient beings, that got up to the same sorts of things that other sentient beings got up to. Presumably everything but reproduction. Which didn’t stop Striker from seducing humans. Dahr tried to unravel how he felt about that, and gave up on it almost as soon as he started. His feelings on the subject were too jumbled up with all that had happened.

The cart pulled all the way up to the door. The woman ran to the man, leaping into his great arms. He gathered her up into a bear hug (he really did look like a bear) and swung her in a circle as if she were a child, though she was a full grown adult. Dahr watched it bemused. Then Eldiss put her down, and she walked to where Eric and Dahr sat on the back of the cart.

She had shoulder length blonde hair, braided to frame a pretty face. The knotting was intricate and told Dahr that this woman cared about her appearance. Her clothes were clean and, while not the fine clothing he had gotten used to seeing at the palace, it was a good deal better than most farmers wore back in Death’s Doorstep. That she looked like a farmer’s wife didn’t surprise him. If they were trying to deceive him about the undead, it’s exactly the look they would have gone for.

She looked up at Dahr and Eric, still on the cart, and flashed them a radiant smile.

“Welcome to my home. My name is Aisha, and I’ll be starting dinner soon if you’re hungry, but I’ll need your help with a few things. Everyone gets to eat, but everyone has to work. So let’s get you lads scrubbed up, so you can help me with the food.”

She walked back toward the house without waiting for a response. Dahr was perfectly fine with kitchen work, but he shot a worried glance at Eric, who shrugged when he noticed Dahr looking at him.

“Their house, their rules. It’s okay, Dahr. My father didn’t teach me to avoid work. I know how to cook.”

“You know how to cook?”

“I know the basics, at least. I’m no chef, but I can help out.”

Dahr started to answer, when suddenly, he noticed that Kalutu’s thread was changing. Other threads of many different colors started weaving their way around his, making it look like a rainbow rope. The colors didn’t appear all at once, but grew along the thread as if they were a living thing, but nothing could grow that fast. Something was going on with Kalutu. Dahr wished he knew what it was.

“What’s wrong?” asked Eric, ever ready to protect.

“It’s Kalutu. Something has changed, but I’m not sure what.”

“Is he in danger?”

Dahr’s answer was halting. “I don’t think so. It’s like…it’s like he himself has undergone some kind of change, but not a bad change, I don’t think. I don’t know.”

“Dahr, how do you know all this?”

“I can just feel it.”

He wasn’t ready to talk about the threads yet, and he certainly wouldn’t be doing so here. He had to remember that these people were the enemy, and no amount of normalcy was going to change that. They had kidnapped him and Eric. Striker had violated Eric, taken away his will. She had forced Maynor to commit treason. He hoped that the king would go easy on him. He hadn’t thought much about Maynor, who was safe back in the palace, in theory anyway. But Maynor’s situation might not be any better than theirs. He could have been arrested. He could even be executed. Dahr didn’t think King Terrence would do that, but he couldn’t be sure.

Eric looked around, taking in the farm. He’d hopped off the cart and was walking toward the farm house.

“Eric…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t try to escape, okay?”

Eric studied him, nodded once and continued down the flagstone path that led to the front door. Dahr got off the cart and followed him inside.

While he was distracted, the threads had returned, all of them, and Dahr dismissed them again, except for the most obvious ones, which refused to be hidden. What he really needed was more levels. He had to figure out what the threads meant and how he could use them.

You want to level again?

George’s voice inside his head.

“I do,” said Dahr in a low voice.

You need to start trusting me, Dahr. I only want what’s best for you.

“You stopped me from helping Eric.”

Is Eric hurt? Did he come to harm? If I allowed him to continue to attack, what do you think would have happened?

Dahr thought about it and had to admit, George had a good point. Still, he wasn’t ready to trust him just yet.

What would it take, Dahr, for you to start trusting me?

“Why do you care? You’re a god. I’m just a boy.”

You’re not just a boy anymore, Dahr. You’re a Nexus. And you will change the world. In fact, it’s already begun.

Dahr didn’t like the sound of that. “So we’re just supposed to wait here.”

You need time to learn your class. Study the threads Dahr, and I’ll reward you with another level.

“If you want me to trust you, tell me what’s going on with Kalutu.”

I won’t do that, but he’s perfectly safe. In fact, in some ways, he’s never been better. You’ll be seeing him soon enough. Have patience.

“He’s coming here?”

Dahr had gotten carried away and realized that he’d spoken too loudly. Fortunately no one seemed to notice.

More like you and he will be going to the same place. Be happy, Dahr. Kalutu is busy recruiting.

“Recruiting?”

You may not realize it yet, but Lost Wisdom is growing by leaps and bounds.

Dahr grimaced, not liking the idea of his familiar out there, inviting adventurers to join his guild. Why would Kalutu do that? Of course, he’s going to try to come after them and can’t do it alone. Chari wouldn’t be allowed to come, so Kalutu was coming on his own.

“Be safe, Kalutu,” he whispered. “We’ll find each other. As soon as I can, I’ll come to you.”

He looked into the distance, where the now multi-colored thread ran through the fields and out of sight. As soon as he could, he’d follow that thread and get back to his familiar. But not yet.

For now, all he could do was wash up, so he could help prepare the evening meal.