The Archmage Unbound (7 page)

“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.”

Moira Centyr, or rather the creature I
called Moira, watched me for a long moment, waiting for her words to sink in.
I blinked several times as my own experiences over the past year shifted within
my mind, reorganizing in light of what she had just told me. Several things
clicked into place as I looked back, and my memory of the voice of the wind and
the sensation I had had… of losing my ‘self’… stood out clearly in my mind.

Just a few days ago I had nearly taken
to the skies… just to track a man a few miles further than my regular senses
would follow. What if I hadn’t come back? What if Ariadne hadn’t gotten my
attention? Would I have become a zephyr? A part of the wind… lost forever
between the clouds, with no memory of my prior life? The implications were
startling.

“Could that happen with the wind?” I
asked her suddenly.

“An archmage can become anything,” she
replied, “It is both a blessing and a curse… a strength and a weakness.”

“I think it nearly happened to me the
other day,” I added.

“I am not surprised,” she said.

“Why?”

“You are particularly sensitive, in my
time you would have been guarded carefully by a
meillte
,” she said. The
word meillte was familiar to me already, it being the Lycian word for
‘watcher’.

“What did these ‘meillte’ do?” I asked.

“Their job was to make sure an archmage
did not go too far. Most of them were mages of limited ability. If the one
they were watching became lost they could speak to them directly, mind to mind,
to try and draw them back to the world of men,” she explained.

“Did you have watchers? And if so… why
didn’t they bring you back?” Even before I said it I wondered if the question
might be too sensitive, but I had to ask anyway.

“I did, but some things cannot be
undone. I knew the price and I made my choice, which is why I tried to
preserve my knowledge for the future, before I lost myself.” She answered
plainly, and if the question bothered her she gave no sign of it.

“You say I am ‘sensitive’, what does
that have to do with it?”

“Everything… sensitivity is the way we
used to look for possible talents in this regard. In general, once a young
mage first showed his power he would be watched carefully. After a year we
would test his sensitivity, primarily by checking the range of his mage-sight,”
Moira said.

“Does that range or sensitivity give an
indication of a mage’s power?”

“Not really. Many powerful wizards were
too lacking in sensitivity to become archmages… most of them in fact.
Conversely, some archmages were fairly mediocre in terms of pure wizardry. I
myself was only considered a ‘moderate’ when my personal power was tested, but
my sensitivity was very high. I was closely watched from the time my power
first manifested until the time I chose to surrender my life in the attempt to
stop Balinthor.” She said this with a certain amount of pride.

Needless to say the conversation had
taken a fascinating turn for me. I had read about things such as ‘emittance’
and ‘capacitance’ being used to characterize the differences between wizards
and channelers, stoics and prophets… but what Moira was discussing was more
particular to my own situation. “How did you measure sensitivity?” I asked her
directly.

“The most common test was to see how far
away a mage could sense a particular object or person. Anything over five
hundred yards was considered ‘very sensitive’. Individuals that tested in that
range would be watched carefully to make sure they did no harm to themselves
before they could learn to control their abilities. Those judged to be
extremely sensitive would be watched throughout their lives… to ensure their
own safety.”

“Was that really for their safety, or
the safety of others?” I questioned pointedly. I was a bit sore on the topic
of not being trusted purely because of one’s magical ability.

“For their own safety… most archmages
that go too far do not endanger anyone, they merely lose themselves.”

“What is that like?”

The elemental being stared into me with
penetrating eyes, “I was created before my namesake joined the earth
completely, so I don’t know, but I have her memories of near ‘misses’ during
her life before that day. Becoming something like the earth, or the wind, is
too far beyond human experience for it to make sense anyway. Everything you
know, everything you are, would be erased, replaced by a vast uncaring
reality. There would be no ‘memory’ of such a thing; memory itself ceases to
have meaning when discussing something such as the ‘earth’ or ‘wind’.”

“This ability sounds almost useless,” I
commented.

“That is because we have only discussed
the dangers. There are many advantages you have not discovered yet,” she
informed me.

“And what are those?”

“Before we get that far… you’ll need to
share some information with me. How far away can you sense a specific
individual?” As she asked I could feel the focus of her beautiful gem-like
eyes boring into my own. She seemed particularly intent on this question.

“How far were you able to sense a
person?” I retorted.

“Nearly a thousand yards,” she replied
instantly. “Don’t avoid the question. I need to know, to assess what you will
be capable of learning.”

“Fine,” I replied. “I can sense a
specific person out to a distance of a little over half a mile, probably over
eight or nine hundred yards,” I lied. The truth was I could sense someone at
twice that distance, now that the bond had been broken. I wasn’t sure what
that might mean in terms of my abilities, but I wasn’t about to give the
information away without being sure of the motives of the person that wanted to
know.

“I suspected as much. Even in my day
that was exceptional, especially for an Illeniel,” she remarked.

That smacked of an insult. “What does
that mean?” I demanded.

She laughed. “Despite their historical
honor as the first ‘great’ line of wizards the Illeniels did not produce many
archmages. The Illeniel lineage was renowned for producing powerful wizards
but not many of them were exceptional in terms of sensitivity.

Our conversation had begun to fill me
with a frustrated energy. To work some of it off I stood and began to pace,
hoping to relax my body. I was relieved to finally be getting some answers,
but I wasn’t sure I liked what they implied. Finally I spoke again, “I still
don’t really understand why ‘sensitivity’ is important for archmages.”

She walked beside me as she answered,
“It isn’t important Mordecai. It is everything. An archmage listens and by
listening he understands. Through understanding he
becomes.
The ‘ears’
that you use to listen are a byproduct of wizardry. The same sense that allows
you to perceive magic allows you to listen to the world itself… to become the
world itself. Does that make it clearer?”