The Archmage unbound

Chapter 4

That evening Marcus made it to the dining hall, freshly shaved and looking much better. He was still pale but he was definitely sober. Dorian gave me a quizzical look… I could almost hear his unspoken question: What did you do? Later when I had a chance I told him I had spoken to Marc, but I never did give him the details of our agreement. For that matter I didn’t tell Penny either.

Two days later Marc caught up to me in the smithy. I had been spending so much time there lately that almost everyone knew to look for me there when they needed me now. My work was still proceeding at a good pace but it looked as if it would take me months to accomplish my goals.

“That must be the armor Dorian was telling me about,” Marc said as he walked up. He hadn’t announced himself when he entered but that was hardly necessary anyway.

I didn’t bother replying, gracing him with an unintelligible grunt instead. I had my hands full of red hot metal and although I wore heavy leathers to protect my body and had spelled my hands and arms for hardness and heat resistance I still didn’t dare relax my attention. Careless smiths didn’t work for long, and that probably was doubly true for mage-smiths… if that was the proper term for what I had become. Maybe wizard-smith would sound better?

After a few minutes I found a good stopping point and set my work aside to cool, and then I gave my friend my full attention. “What’s on your mind?” I was a little worried he might have come up with a ‘plan’ but I had decided not to mention it to him until he brought it up himself.

He gave me one of his old grins, the sort that meant he might be up to mischief. “I’m bored,” he said finally.

“Nothing new there,” I replied. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Well I’ve been thinking, about your offer. Now that I have that ahead of me it seems I don’t need to rush things. Instead there might be a few things I’d like to do first.”

I kept my face smooth but inwardly I was smiling. “Such as?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me before… about the things you read in that book on the history of Illeniel. I’d like to know more,” he answered.

“You think you can do something about it,” I concluded.

“No, but that’s the point. I don’t know. Until now I’ve been a victim, and that’s part of what makes it so painful. Not only did she manipulate and betray me, she left me with the knowledge that nothing I do will matter. No action I can take now will affect her or the other gods in the slightest. Mankind as a whole and me in particular, we are insignificant… unworthy of regard or consideration.” Marc leaned back and gazed at the cooling metal I had set aside.

“You think there might be knowledge that will help?” I suggested.

His eyes snapped back to my face, “Yes. The story you told me about the sundering, if true, is proof of that. If the gods were once less than they are now… then they aren’t immortal, eternal, or unchanging.” He clenched his fist as he spoke and I could see the anger simmering beneath his cool exterior.

“And if they aren’t?”

Marc gave me a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, “Then they aren’t gods, and if they aren’t gods then they can be brought to task for the things they have done.”

“Even if they aren’t omnipotent it’s very likely you still won’t be able to hurt them,” I reminded him.

“I have a friend who might be able to…,” he said, looking squarely at me.

I suffered a moment of self-doubt, “That’s a big leap. There’s little indication anyone might have that sort of power.”

“Moira Centyr did…,” he said bluntly.

“She was an archmage.”

“So are you,” he replied.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “In any case, she only defeated one god… and that was with a lot of help.”

“It doesn’t matter Mort. I’ll seek what knowledge I can find. If any of it proves useful then I’ll have made some sort of difference. If not… well I feel much better knowing you’re there to help me… if it comes to that,” he stopped there.

“Where do you plan to start?” I asked.

“Your house… there may be more histories in your father’s library. After that I’ll scour the libraries of the nobility… and if I can get to them, the records of the churches.”

That gave me pause, there might be information there that none of us could guess at. “You’re an ex-saint, which makes you about as popular with the followers of the evening star as a skunk at a tea party. You think they would let you near their coveted records now?”

“No… but I need a challenge,” he declared. There was a light in Marc’s eyes again. He wasn’t the same man he had been, but he was better than the broken creature I’d found in his room a few days before. Revenge might be a poor motive, but it was better than despair.

“I’m assuming you want me to take you to the capital.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll take you after dinner this evening. I was planning to make a trip that way in a few days anyway. Now I can use that as an excuse to check on your progress,” I informed him.

“Why are you going to Albamarl?” he asked.

I gave him my own evil grin, “I promised the king I would stop by and visit him.”

A frown passed over his face before being replaced by a smirk, “You know… since you came and spent that week with me over a year and a half ago you’ve done nothing but make enemies. The list just keeps getting longer.”

“When you have friends as good as mine you have to find a way to balance things out,” I replied jokingly. Then I took a chance and asked a more direct question, “Are you feeling better?”

“If you were someone else I would say yes,” he answered with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not going to get ‘better’ Mort. I’m just going to get even, if possible.”

“So your good humor has just been a facade?”

“Mostly. Even so, my facade is better looking than you do, even on a good day,” he snapped back.

“Ha!”

“Anyway, Mort, I do need to thank you. I still don’t really want to live, but you made me realize I had the choice and if I’m going to stick around a while longer I might as well do something to pay the bitch back for what she did to me. No sense in wallowing in self-pity meanwhile. When I’ve had enough I’ll let you know.” He stepped closer and embraced me in a bear hug.

Marc left after that and I collected my thoughts and returned to my work on the armor. As I worked my thoughts kept returning to what he had said, particularly the part about Moira Centyr. I still had a lot of questions about her. I hadn’t spent much time exploring my new abilities since the day Penny and I had broken the bond. I wasn’t even sure if I should call them ‘abilities’. For the most part it just seemed like a broader form of communication.

Things like what I was doing now… working with the metal before me, those were clearly normal wizardry. I was using my own power to shape the material in my hands. So far I hadn’t seen anything impressive about this ability that supposedly meant I was an archmage. Sure I could hear the earth, the wind, and a myriad of smaller things, but thus far it seemed to be mainly an informational ability. There were a few things that puzzled me though, such as when the earth had shaken back in Albamarl, when I threatened the banker. Or the way the wind had tossed Ariadne’s hair a few days back, just after I had thought about it. In each case something had happened, but I hadn’t felt directly responsible. Unlike wizardry, I hadn’t exerted my own power, but nevertheless something had happened which coincided with my own thoughts and feelings.

Moira Centyr in particular was a startling example of something far beyond the ken of normal wizardry. Whatever she had done a thousand years before had changed her into a creature of the earth itself, an elemental being. How such a thing could happen was beyond my ability to guess, but as I pondered it I realized that I didn’t have to guess.

My last contact with her had been while I was desperately trying to heal Penny. Naturally I hadn’t had a chance to ask any non-essential questions at the time, but there was no reason I couldn’t ask them now. I had actually been considering trying to contact her since that day, but until now I had had too many things distracting me to make a serious attempt.

The metal in my hands had gone cold. Startled, I realized I had been standing idle for several moments. I set the piece down and decided the time had come to do something. Walking outside I washed my hands and face in the water trough near the door. I should find someplace a bit more private, I thought to myself.

I took a walk, through the village and out the gate. As I went I studied the repairs to the outer wall. During Gododdin’s siege of my home they had breached the outer wall that encircled the town of Washbrook. After our victory it had been the first thing on our list of important things to rebuild. The work had gone well and now the section of wall that had been torn down was only remarkable by the difference in color between the new stone and the older stone of the undamaged parts of the wall.

The masons were now laying the foundation for a much larger wall that would encircle the area where our palisade had been… and more. The most uncomfortable thing about the siege had been the crowding created by the fact that some of the town was outside of the defensive walls. If it ever came to that again I intended to make sure that we had room and then some for any future sieges. Once the new outer wall was built I would have several large barracks constructed, along with storehouses for food and supplies.

I didn’t actually anticipate needing to fill those barracks with soldiers, but if I had to shelter the people of the county again there would be plenty of space for the farmers and their families to stay. I should probably consider having a second well dug to provide easier access to fresh water, I thought.

My steps took me beyond the walls and down the road toward the valley. I followed it for several hundred yards before I turned aside and headed into the trees that flanked the road on either side. I kept going till I found a comfortable looking spot to sit beside a large oak and there I settled myself, leaning my back against the massive trunk.

Closing my eyes I began slowly clearing my mind. My mage-sight had already made sure the surrounding area was clear of people so I felt secure in my privacy. A more careful scrutiny reassured me that there were no ‘empty-places’ that might indicate shiggreth nearby. I had not forgotten them despite the fact that they had remained in hiding since their attack on the village before the war.

Listening I focused my attention on the deep and steady thrumming of what I thought of as the heart of the earth. My awareness of my own body slipped away and was replaced by a more acute awareness of the ground beneath me, the feeling of the stone and dirt that stretched away for miles in every direction. As my connection to the earth grew firm I cast my ‘voice’ outward, calling her name, Moira.

I had never tried to contact her before so I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. At first I felt nothing in response to my call but after an unknown period of time I felt… something, a more focused intelligence, approaching. Power moved in the earth around me and I felt the ground rise up slowly in front of where I sat, flowing and forming the shape of a woman.

“You called me,” she said quietly. The sound of a purely physical voice surprised me and I opened my eyes to see her standing next to me. As before, she had taken the form of a human woman, perfect in every detail, except for the small fact of being made of earth and stone. Even her voice sounded almost normal, though it had a certain dry quality to it.

“You can speak,” I said. I was mildly surprised, in the past she had spoken to me only in my mind.

“Why would you think otherwise?” she asked, though her face betrayed no visible emotion or curiosity.

“I assumed you could only speak to me directly, mind to mind. If you could talk like this you should have been able to talk to me even after I formed the bond with Penny,” I told her.

“You are laboring under several misconceptions. I can only speak, move, or indeed act at all because you are not bound,” she replied.

That made no sense to me. “The bond only interfered with my ability to communicate directly with my mind, how would that affect your ability to speak?”

“Who do you think you are talking to?” she asked.

I sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to make a habit of answering my questions with questions, but with a sigh I answered anyway, “Moira Centyr… or have you changed names?”

“That is probably the best name to use, but it is not strictly correct,” she said with an infuriatingly calm demeanor.

“Listen, I’m not really in the mood for this, if you aren’t Moira Centyr then tell me who I am talking to. I’d rather not spend all day playing word games,” I said impatiently.

“If I were still alive I’d have you punished for such impertinence,” she answered with a faint hint of a smile. “In one sense I am the earth, in another I am a remnant of Moira Centyr, and in the most important sense I am you.”

“Well that really clears things up,” I said sarcastically. I should have expected an answer like that; magical beings never seem to have straight forward answers. I got my frustration under control and decided to tackle the subject systematically. “Let’s start with the first thing you said, ‘if I were still alive’, I thought you were still alive. Did you die after you joined with the earth and defeated Balinthor?”

“The problem is really created by trying to force reality to fit into the form of language. Moira Centyr did not die, she changed, became something else… a part of the earth itself. From a human perspective, and in most ways that matter to humans, she died. I am what she left behind, an impression of her knowledge, an imprint of who she was, preserved within the earth… an echo of her mind.”

I had a sinking feeling this was going to be a long introduction. I tried again, “So you’re sort of a ghost?”

“No, I am her knowledge, preserved within the earth,” she replied.

Same difference, I thought, but I didn’t voice my opinion. “It sounds as if the distinction is mostly academic. Rather than split hairs over the details how about we just call you ‘Moira’ for simplicity’s sake,” I suggested. “Let’s return to the original question, why couldn’t you speak to me like this while I was bound to Penny?”

“Because I am not Moira Centyr, I am a memory. I have no volition, no will or motivating self beyond that which you provide. That is why I said that I am you in one sense.”

Understanding was beginning to dawn, but I still wasn’t clear on everything yet, “then why did you answer when I called you by that name… Moira. ”

“I answered because you called. Your will, your desire, your motivation compel me to act, to respond. You provide the volition that creates this semblance of who Moira Centyr was, without your living will I am no more alive than the ground beneath your feet. I am a memory, given life and substance by your connection to the earth and your desire for answers.”

I understood now but I was feeling argumentative, “The ground beneath my feet is alive. I’ve learned that much already.”

She smiled then, flashing teeth like white pebbles, “That is true also, but the ground beneath your feet has no desire to speak or debate topics of human knowledge. It was given this knowledge by Moira Centyr and it acquires the desire to speak from your own living will.”

“So I really am speaking to the earth.”

“I am the earth, but I am not its voice… I am an echo of a woman who has passed beyond the knowledge of how to be human,” she said. It might have been my imagination, but I almost heard a hint of wistfulness in her voice as she said it. I felt intuitively that her words were true, but I doubted they were the final truth.

A question popped into my mind suddenly. “Are there others?”

“Others?”

“Other impressions, memories left behind by previous archmages, like you…,” I clarified.

“Not that I am aware of,” she answered simply.

The answer disappointed me and left me more curious, “Why not? Are you the only archmage to have… er… been lost… or joined with the earth?”

“No, when I was alive I was taught that several had been lost in this way before.”

“So why do you exist?” As the question left my mouth it occurred to me that it was a deep question that could just as easily be applied to myself.

“I was created to guard and preserve certain things, the Centyr family has always had a peculiar talent not found in the other great lineages.” she said. Her voice had an almost hesitant tone to it, as if she answered reluctantly.

Of course that begged the question, “Such as?”

Her blue eyes bore into mine, “What you see before you… I am a ‘splinter’ of the original Moira Centyr, a weakened copy if you will.”

The idea intrigued me, “This was something unique to your family? Were all of the Centyr mages able to do this?”

“The ability to create a living body is something only an archmage could manage and there have been few of those among my ancestors. However Centyr wizards were frequently able to create semi-sentient enchantments of objects to contain knowledge… I am merely the extreme extension of that ability. As far as I know I am the only example of… whatever it is you would label me,” she gestured to her body as she finished.

“And what was your creator’s intention when she made you?”

“The preservation of knowledge, to help you… Although I have no will or power to act remaining to me I can teach you what I knew, if you desire my wisdom. And…,” she began to say something else but stopped.

“What?” I prodded.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing, what else is there?”

“I am not ready to share everything yet, not until I know your purposes better… not until I am sure you can survive,” she stated bluntly.

“I thought you acted according to my will,” I inquired, “How can a simulacrum be stubborn… or cautious?”

“Some things we are driven to protect so strongly that the desire can survive even this…,” she gestured at her earthen form, sweeping her arms delicately downward.

I had the feeling I wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to pry an answer from her at this point so I mentally shelved the question for later. A larger question loomed before me, “You said others had been ‘lost’ like you were… how did you wind up like this? More importantly could this happen to me?”

She smiled again, “A good question… and part of the reason I was created. It involves the fundamental difference between wizardry and what an archmage does. A mage uses his own power to effect change in the world around him, just as a normal man might use the strength of his arm and an axe to fell a tree. A mage wields his power and causes things to happen, in contrast, an archmage listens to the world.”

“That doesn’t sound very useful, or powerful. The histories say you defeated a dark god, surely you didn’t do that by ‘listening’,” I insisted.

“Correct, I didn’t crush Balinthor by just listening, and that is why I became as I am now. I sought power beyond human comprehension, the power of the earth entire, and I gained it,” she stopped there.

“I’m confused,” I admitted.

She stared intently at me and I found myself fascinated with the light glinting from the deep sapphires that served as her ‘eyes’. Finally she opened her mouth to speak again, “An archmage does not wield power, Mordecai. An archmage becomes that which they seek to wield.”