Choice (Majaos Book 3)

by Gary Stringer

  “What are the words of the Seal of the Council of Magic?” Kismet asked.

  “Majaos y Natus,” Eilidh replied. “Magic is Life.”

  Kismet shook his head. “Come on, Eilidh. Use that brain of yours. Think. Never mind what you've been told it means, work it out for yourself, just like Du y Kharia.” “Well, Majaos` is the pre -Ancient elven word both for the world and for `magic`," the Catalyst said. "Given the way magic is inextricably bound to this world, it's reasonable that the two concepts should be interchangeable. `Natus` literally means `born` but `Magic is born` doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yes it does,” Kismet argued. “Just be a little less literal with the last word work with it a little.”

  “Well, I was born, therefore I am...alive.” Eilidh gasped, “Magic is Alive?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?” Kismet returned. “Think about the flow of Life - you see it as streams and rivers, but couldn't it also be like the way blood flows through your body?”

  Eilidh was reeling with shock, but she kept her head. “That would make the Well of Life like the heart of the world, pumping magic around its body! You created that image as a symbol at the Well of Life!”

  “That’s right, but if magic is truly alive, there’s something else you need -just like the scarecrow.”

  “The what?”

  “The scarecrow. Wizard of Oz.”

  “The wizard of where?”

  Mystaya laughed, delighted by the reference. “It's a story, Eilidh,” she told her friend. “Kismet used to tell it to me all the time when I was little.”

  “It was your favourite,” Kismet put in. The princess explained, “It's about an ordinary young girl, who one day is plucked out of her ordinary life and whisked away to a world of magic where she has an incredible adventure, battling witches and the legendary Wizard of Oz, and home in time for tea. Along the way, she picks up companions - a cowardly lion who seeks courage, a tin man who lacks a heart and scarecrow - a straw man - and all he wants isa brain.”

  “A brain, of course!” Eilidh exclaimed. “If magic is alive, it would need some kind of brain - I wonder what form that might take.”

  “Well, why not take the concept to the next level?” Kismet coached.

  “The next level?” Eilidh was incredulous. “Kismet, you've just told me that magic is alive! What conceptcould possibly be beyond that? There's nothing beyond life...well, except...”

  “Except?” Kismet pressed.

  “Except sentience, consciousness, self-awareness, intelligence, the ability to learn and adapt, to think and to reason. Is that even possible?” “Why not?” Mystaya asked. “Isn't sentience just a state of evolution? Somewhere along the line, evolution made life complex enough for sentience to emerge, and assuming living magic has existed here since Majaos was born, it's had a very long time to evolve.”

  Eilidh nodded, thoughtfully. “You’re right, and I have further evidence: in getting through the Maelstrom, I discovered that magic contains a highly complex form of language, and something in the Maelstrom recognised a perfect forgery for what it was.”

  “But if magic is sentient, what form do you suppose it would take?” Mystaya wondered. “Well, we know that we can create all kinds of things from magic,” Eilidh pointed out. “The conversion of magical energy to matter is the basis of all creation magic. In which case, it's reasonable to assume that magic itself could take pretty much any form it…wanted…to...” She trailed off and stared at Kismet, who was trying to look innocent. “But it's a basic imperative in all sentient beings to seek to communicate with other sentient beings, in this case: us. In order to best facilitate that communication, then, it would make sense to take the form of something like us that we could easily relate to: An individual, a person...a man...” she pointed at Kismet “YOU!”

  He executed a courtly bow. “At your service,” he offered.

  “You're the essence of magic personified?” Mystaya breathed in wide-eyed wonder.

  “In those clothes?” Eilidh added, flippantly. Kismet looked hurt. “What's wrong with my clothes? They're colourful and isn't that always the nature of magic? Wizards and warlocks, druids and magicians...Catalysts. You’re all fond of your own identifying colours, aren't you? The colours of the magical spectrum.”

  “And so naturally you're all of them!” Eilidh concluded.

  Kismet shrugged, “Well it wouldn't do to show favouritism, now would it?”

  “OK, this is going to take a little time to digest,” Eilidh confessed, feeling a little queasy, but in a good way, if that were possible.

  “That goes double for me,” Mystaya agreed.

  “But there's one thing I still don't get,” continued the Catalyst, tenaciously. “Why `Kismet`?”

  “Eilidh!” Kismet admonished her. “Do you really need me to give you all the answers? You who figured out how to destroy Niltsiar in about ten seconds flat? It's all there just put it together!”

  Kismet was right, Eilidh grudgingly admitted. This would mean more if she could think it through on her own.

  Start with the facts, she told herself. Start with what you know. “You are a sentient being with a will of your own,” she reasoned, “and like all sentient beings, you try to impose your will on the world. That's called enlightened self-interest, the cornerstone of reason. You try to make the right choices to shape the future the way you want it to be. But in your case, rather than just living in the world for a time, in a manner of speaking you are the world, and you are magic. You are Majaos.”

  Kismet nodded. “You see? You didn't need me to spoonfeed you after all. As you say, I try to shape the future – my future – by interacting with you lot and influencing– not controlling, never that– influencing your actions. After all, you all depend on the world for survival and my survival very much depends on you. Thank you, by the way, for getting rid of that terrible Niltsiar. The way she abused magic was…well, it was really quite painful and disturbing.”

  A violation, Eilidh considered, silently, in a very real sense.

  “So it's symbiosis,” Mystaya caught on.

  “Yes, but it also means that this world has a grand plan,” Eilidh said. “And the concept of a grand plan for the world and its people is defined by a number of words: Fate, destiny...” “Or my personal favourite: Kismet,” he concluded. “It takes nothing away from your free will: you made all the right free choices to defeat Niltsiar, and I asked Gamaliel to pick you because based on my observations, I had reason to believe you were the one most likely to make the right choices. So, whilst never compromising your free will, you could say that you were guided by the hand of destiny.”

  “Which kind of makes me the Chosen One,” Eilidh objected. “But I beat Niltsiar when I realised it meant the One who Chooses.”

  “Well, why can’t you be both?” Mystaya asked. “More than one interpretation, remember?”

  Eilidh was speechless asKismet bent down to peer inside her ear. “Ooh look!” he said, stepping backand standing tall with a big grin, “your brain just expanded!”

  “I think my brain just exploded!” Mystaya remarked.

  Eilidh giggled.

  “Ah well, can't stand around here chatting all day,” Kismet sighed. His diary appeared in mid-air, flicking through its blank pages. “Things to do, places to go, people to wind up!”

  “Kismet,” Eilidh said, standing and reaching out touch his arm, affectionately. “Thank you.”

  “No,” he returned. “Thank you!”

  “Will I see you again?” the Catalyst asked.

  “Of course you will!” he winked. “You are the Du y Kharia!”

  With those parting words and an entirely unnecessary puff of smoke, he disappeared.

  * * * * * That mind broadening experience had also gone a long way to informing Eilidh’s decision, and that was where her thoughts now turned, as she looked around at her friends, all of them wondering why she had asked them to come together at this time.


  “Thank you all for coming,” Eilidh began. “You are the people I care about most in my life. We've been through so much together, it's like we're like a really close family. But time moves ever forward, things change and families don't always stay together in one place as their individual lives, individual choices take them elsewhere.”

  The others could tell this was going to be one of her speeches and so they listened in respectful silence as her voice echoed around the Great Hall. “My world used to be the Church of Life in Merlyon, preferably alone, with books most people didn't even know existed. That was it - I didn't need or want anything else. In the last couple of years, though, I've discovered that the world is so much bigger than I ever realised. My world has grown and I've grown, too, which has led me to this decision.

  “It's been a year, now, since the end of the war and I - well, I don't think any of us has any time for all this hero nonsense-”

  “-Speak for yourself,” Bernice piped up. “I'm rather enjoying it!” Phaer rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding!” she assured him.

  Eilidh smiled. Somehow, Phaer never seemed to quite know when Bernice was joking.

  Tanya, by contrast, always knew. Bernice’s sense of humour had made her smile from the start and she rewarded the woman she loved with a kiss. Speaking strictly for myself, then,” Eilidh continued, “the Council of Magic doesn't really need a Consultant and that's why, this morning, I handed Gamaliel my resignation. Then, just before you arrived, I spoke to King Garald and took my leave, thanking him for his generous hospitality and his friendship, but I won’t be needing my room much longer.”

  “Why? Where are you going?” Toli asked. “Ah, that's the point, Toli: I don't know! I didn't know where I was going when I set out on my Top Secret Quest for King and Country, and look where that led me. Between us, we must have covered half of Mythallen - but this is only one continent! Our friend Callie was hatched in Sylfrania to the West, but even she has little recollection of what it's like.”

  “I was too young,” Calandra agreed. “And then there's the mysterious land of Zarathon to the North East, and who knows what might lie beyond that? Isn't it strange that we know more about the old world of the Ancients than we do about our own world now?”

  That got a few nods of agreement.

  “I've never thought of it like that,” Rochelle admitted.

  “Well,” Eilidh continued, “that's why I'm leaving. As soon as possible: days probably, weeks possibly, within the month certainly.” She could get there, too - she could go anywhere, because Kismet had passed on an invitation from Merlyn to explore the Wise One's hut. She did so and discovered the answer to the riddle of its internal dimensions. The hut was in fact a gateway to an Inter-Continental Corridor, to which Eilidh had the only key: a magic key, naturally.

  “If any of you want to come with me, you'll be more than welcome, and if you don't, that's fine too, I understand, but please don't try to talk me out of it, because my mind's made up. I want to explore.”

  “Explore?” Phaer questioned.

  “Actually no,” Eilidh corrected herself. “`Explore` is the wrong word. What I really want is...” she broke off, smiling at the absurdity of it…

  “…an adventure.”

  THE END