Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (black female authors .txt) 📗

the wise left, these days. We are as ancient as the Keep. Sometimes it shows.” It seemed to take a huge effort for Manfred to pull himself to his feet. His back was hunched and he looked no more than skin and bones inside his grey cloak, which he pulled around himself to ward off the early chill of the spring morning.

Simon stood too. He was still dressed in jeans, tee shirt and sweater, but he had a cloak of sorts, fashioned out of hessian, that kept the worst of the cold at bay. It seemed that Jhamed’s tools served many purposes. They made to leave, seeking out the old farmer and his wife to say their goodbyes and express their thanks. However, the farmer surprised them again with one final act of generosity. Soon they were on their way, though in a deal more comfort than they had anticipated. The wagon was crude and the single horse that pulled it old, but it seemed like a Rolls Royce to Simon. Moreover, they had a basket packed with more of the excellent food to keep them sustained on the last part of their journey.

Jhamed drove, or at least held the reins for it seemed that the horse knew the best route to take and the optimum speed at which to travel. Manfred sat in the front of the wagon and seemed to alternate between dozing and sucking on an old briar pipe, although he burned nothing in the bowl. Simon lay in the back of the wagon, cushioned on a layer of straw, and watched the sky. It looked the same colour blue as the sky he was familiar with and the clouds were the same fluffy white; but he now accepted that he wasn’t dreaming or insane, that he had travelled somewhere else, to a different dimension of the multiverse. I’m going to have an adventure, so I’d better make the most of it. In the front of the wagon, Manfred smiled.

Even with the wagon, it took them the better part of the day to get to Wizards’ Keep. As they got closer to The Keep, the number of farms began to increase. Then small villages began to spring up along their route. They began to pass more and more people, going about the daily routine of their lives. It all seemed rather surreal to Simon, like something from long in the past. There was a sort of slowness to their lifestyle that he couldn’t put his finger on, as if no one ever hurried here for anything. And there was also a sense of peace and of safety that increased the closer they came to The Keep. Simon felt a sense of tranquillity that he had never felt before. He was so relaxed that he could barely keep his eyes open, so he sat up and observed his surroundings closely.

Jhamed guided the wagon through the cobbled streets of the town of Elannort that surrounded Wizards’ Keep. It was an old town and had seen little change for many centuries. The buildings were simple single or double storey structures made from wood and the local grey stone. Most households were decorated with colourful shutters and stone pots by the front door filled with herbs or flowering plants.

Elannort was built in a circle. The main road weaved its way through the streets in an ever-decreasing spiral towards the centre. Straight roads ran outwards from the centre, regularly intersecting the main spiral. At each intersection, there was a collection of commercial buildings. Shops sold fresh produce from the surrounding farms or offered services such as blacksmith or cooper. Public houses provided food, ale and accommodation at reasonable prices for the weary traveller and locals alike. The garrulous pubs advertised themselves with huge colourful signs and expressive names such as “The Prancing Pony”, “Wizard’s End”, “The Elf and the Unicorn”, and “The Five Dwarves”.

The streets were busy with other cart traffic and people riding horses as well as many individuals and groups on foot. An army of street cleaners, completely dressed in green, ensured that the many piles of horse droppings and any other litter were promptly removed. Most people took little notice of the wagon as it passed, though some waved or called out greetings to Manfred. The people seemed to be well dressed and well fed. There was a general atmosphere of contentment in the air.

As the street circle narrowed, they also began to climb gently, until the road widened and straightened into a long avenue. At first, the avenue was crowned by huge oak trees, whose branches towered above the road, entwining in an ancient embrace and providing a canopy, pale green with new leaves. The trees gave way to a series of statues and monuments on both sides of the road. There were many statues of men who appeared to be warriors, but many others who appeared to be bent and wizened old men, rather like Manfred. Seven of the wizard statues were much larger than the others and seemed to dominate the rest. There were also many pedestals, standing empty and forlorn as if waiting for warriors and wizards who were yet to be. It was as if a deep fog had lifted as Simon’s gaze was drawn along the avenue, which still climbed, now more steeply, to the building sitting on a mound at the centre of Elannort. He gasped aloud and his mouth fell open in awe, unable to frame the words that he sought. Why didn’t I see it sooner? It’s magnificent.

“It is said that your reaction to your first view of Melasurej, more commonly called The Wizards’ Keep, allows the wise to judge your true spirit. Some men fear it, others want to own or conquer it. Some would worship it, or what it stands for, or what they think it stands for. Some want to destroy it. You have passed another test, Simon Redhead. You shall be welcomed with honour at Wizards’ Keep.” Manfred spoke with a solemnity that surprised Simon.

Before them, in stark contrast to the simple structures of the surrounding town, the enormous building grew into the sky. Its roots were fastened to the bedrock of the central mound but its spires disappeared into the darkening evening sky. The building was jet black but seemed polished and mirror-like, as if fashioned from obsidian. It had many parts, but all seemed to grow out of a central domed section. Simon couldn’t see too much of the ground level detail because a substantial wall of local grey stone surrounded the Keep. Ahead of them towered a huge pair of gates, constructed of polished timber and wrought iron that Simon estimated must be at least twenty metres high.

Jhamed brought the wagon to a halt in front of the gates. Manfred gingerly descended. Simon wasn’t sure whether it was the cart or Manfred’s joints that were creaking. Manfred withdrew his staff from inside his cloak and tapped twice on the doors as he muttered some strange words in a language Simon didn’t recognise. Moving inwards, the doors swung soundlessly open into an immaculately kept courtyard. It was completely deserted. There was no sign as to who had opened the gates for them.

“Take Simon and show him his quarters. I will walk from here; there is much to be done before the meeting. Have the stable look after the horse and cart, and organise its return to its owner after a few days rest. And be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.” Manfred turned and with a sprightly turn of speed disappeared into the distance.

“Yes my lord.” Jhamed spoke sarcastically and gave a low mock bow to the retreating wizard. In doing so he flourished his hat and his wayward curls spilled all over his face like champagne gushing out of a bottle. “Dogsbody to wizards, that’s all I’ll ever be. Be ready to leave at a moment’s notice; so what’s new? A rest, some decent grub, and a bit of peace and quiet would be nice for a change. But that would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it? Come on, Redhead, welcome to Wizards’ Keep; I’ll show you the ropes.”

Simon’s initial impression of Elannort was that it was a town living in the middle ages, lacking any of the technology he took for granted in twenty-first century Australia. His first impression of Wizards’ Keep was one of immense age, almost as if it were forged out of the bedrock itself. As Jhamed gave him a tour of just part of the Keep, he became more and more confused. The Keep seemed to be an eclectic mixture of extremely ancient and very modern. There was technology here that was far ahead of anything Simon had seen before. It appeared, for example that the whole town had a reticulated water and power system, emanating from a small room in the basement, with no sign of a reservoir or generator. He was bursting with curiosity about what Elannort truly was and pestered Jhamed until he got an answer.

“Is it always more questions with you? Don’t bother; I know the answer to that. You really should wait for Manfred’s explanation, I’m sure he’ll tell you everything tomorrow. And remember, I’m a dogsbody, I know jack. All I know is this. Elannort is a very special place. It has existed since the Beginning. It exists only on FirstWorld but there are shadows of Melasurej in other dimensions of the multiverse. Men seek them out everywhere as places of power and peace; although they are often fought over relentlessly. I have felt such shadows in places called Tanelorn, Jerusalem and Camelot across the dimensions. Only on FirstWorld has it existed in peace and harmony, as it is supposed to. There is an old prophecy; only fragments exist; it dates from before the Beginning. It is written that the End will come when the final battle for Elannort is fought. The armies of Law and Chaos will fight a great battle and the winner will claim all of FirstWorld, and maybe the entire multiverse, for eternity. It will surely be hell on earth. I hope that I do not live to see such days, but I fear that they are almost upon us.”

Jhamed’s sombre mood affected Simon too. He tried to cheer his new-found friend. “Well, the new hero won’t let that happen! Why not give Elannort to the good guys, and everyone can live happily ever after?”

Jhamed snorted. His aquiline nose enhanced the sneer that betrayed his face. “Don’t you get it? We are the only good guys, and there are few of us left. I have seen worlds dominated by Law and they are every bit as bad as those gone over to Chaos. Think of your own world. Hitler was a servant of Law; he sought perfection, a world of total order that complied with his rigid rules.”

Simon shivered. If Hitler represented Law, whom did Churchill serve? What about the USA and its fundamentalist Christians? Which side did Islam represent? My brain hurts.

Jhamed seemed to sense Simon’s thoughts, or perhaps they had had this conversation before. “It’s not always clear cut, Simon. Not everyone has to choose between Law and Chaos. There is a third way: the way of Balance. Anyway, enough for today. We must get fed and rested for tomorrow.”

While Jhamed had been showing Simon around The Keep he had introduced him to many of the staff who worked there. They were led to the bedchambers and given elegant interconnecting rooms. Simon felt like he must be in a seven star hotel, except he had never stayed in one and had little with which to compare his current accommodation. The bed was a four-poster with fancy drapes and a down-filled quilt over satin sheets. The en-suite bathroom had all the conveniences of the twenty-first century, yet his room lacked any modern gadgets with the exception of electric lighting and underfloor heating. It is so