A Bitter Brew

by Greg Curtis

  Lady Peri paused for a moment, considering. “I'm sorry child. I know this is bitter. You wish to walk as a wizard and you cannot. But at least you now know why. And you can walk the world as something like a wizard through Hendrick's plan. And the King will have to permit that as long as the great beast threatens us all. But even facing such a threat there must be limits. Those of your peers who learn of these ancient magical engines, threaten everything. They threaten your life. Your family's lives. And the more spells they acquire, the greater the danger they pose to you and yours. As well as us. Now our task falls to you. You will have to stop them.”

  “Tarius be blessed! You want me to continue your lies?! Why?!”

  “If this guild of yours is built you will be best placed to watch over its members and see that they do not head down these dark paths.”

  “Shite!” Finally Marnie let a little of the anger burning inside her loose, no matter how inappropriate it was. “And how is what you've done and what you're asking me to do, any better than rebuilding the ancient city?”

  “You think that we don't know that what we have done is wrong child? That it hurts the innocent?” Lady Peri stared her directly in the eyes, her face even more stern than before. “We do. We know it only too well. Just as we know we have to do it to prevent a far worse evil from returning. You and so many others have suffered because of this lie. You have been shunned, and sometimes hurt. But for all the pain we have caused, we have also enforced the rule of law, to limit the damage that could be done. It has protected you. In Malthas under the tyranny of the wizards, the only law was strength. There was no protection.”

  “Sometimes child, there are no good choices. Only bad ones. I know this better than most. In the name of making a bad choice to prevent a worse one, I had to banish my own son. It was a dragon's choice. Do you imagine that I don't regret that? I do. It wounds me every day. I am a mother and Hendrick is my son. But it could not be allowed for one of the afflicted to remain in the city. And it especially could not be permitted for one of noble blood to remain in the Royal household. It would have sent a message to the world that the affliction could be accepted. It could not be. When you see my son, tell him that. And yet know that I would still do it again were the situation the same. When you see him, tell him that too. I am the King's wife and my priority must always be to protect the realm. From this behemoth. And from wizards and their infernal machines.”

  The sound of porcelain clinking away as it bumped into more porcelain unexpectedly intruded, and Marnie turn around to see a maid entering the room carrying a tray with cups and a tea pot. Another was standing just behind her with another tray, this one loaded down with sweet cakes and biscuits. Apparently morning tea was to be served.

  It was an unexpected sight for Marnie. After such an unpleasant conversation to have cups of tea and sweets offered just seemed wrong. It was almost a denial of the terrible things that had been said. And yet she accepted a cup and a piece of cake. She even thanked her hostess. Because, what else was she to do?

  Chapter Twenty One

  Hendrick was reading in the temple library when Marnie turned up. Seeing her as always brought a sinking feeling to his stomach as he wondered what new criticisms or insults she was about to send his way. Some days he thought she was a curse inflicted on him by the Goat Footed God. Others he thought she actually was the Goat Footed God! And now that she'd visited his mother, acquired the ancient book and finally given it to him to read, things were worse.

  She was unhappy. But then she was always unhappy and everyone else was unhappy too. His mother wasn't speaking to him save to send him official messages. He wasn't sure why, though he suspected it had something to do with the markings he was continuing to add to his body. Now that he had read the book he knew that she considered the markings dangerous. So maybe that was part of it. Maybe she thought he was becoming a threat.

  Tyrollan also wasn't speaking to him. But then he wasn't speaking to anyone. He too had read the book, and then gone to his chambers and closed the door behind him. He'd hardly been seen since.

  Val on the other hand was furious with him – some days he almost barked at him like a rabid dog. And just when things had been so much easier between them after he'd brought him to the ancient temple. Hendrick suspected that his mood was foul because he’d been shown the book and that had proved him wrong about the source of the magic metals. He hated being wrong and he blamed Hendrick for it. But was it more than that? Hendrick didn't know. But he sometimes wondered if it might have something to do with the sage's ancient ancestors the Honoured Ones. Were they somehow connected to the book? They had had the ability to cross worlds after all. But he wasn't bold enough to ask. His friend would calm down again in time.

  And now of course, all of the other afflicted were angry with him. Not because they knew about the book – he would never tell them about it – but because he had changed the routine for acquiring spells. Or rather he had introduced some new rules. They didn't like those rules. He guessed when he saw the unhappy look on Marnie's face as she strode toward him that she didn't like them either. Though she knew the reason for them.

  Unfortunately he did have to speak with her. He'd been putting off the task for days. But he knew he couldn't have put it off for much longer anyway.

  “Why?” She marched angrily through the library, weaving her way between the heavy oak desks and leather arm chairs, grabbed a chair on the opposite side of the table from him, sat down and prepared to stare him to death. The other people in the temple library stared at her in annoyance for raising her voice.

  Most of the patrons were of course their own people, reading through the books the temple kept about all the various spells as they looked up the names of their new spells, and their histories. But there were also priests sitting at many of the tables reading, and children as well, no doubt working on the assignments their teachers had given them as he once had. The Benevolent One was always concerned that those raised in the faith should be well educated.

  “Limiting the total number of spells that can be absorbed to two per week and allowing a person to absorb up to a maximum of ten? You know why.” Hendrick let go of the breath he'd been holding and answered her calmly. He had been expecting the question, and had an answer ready. But he didn't want the others to hear either the answer or the question. Whatever the reason that he, Marnie and Tyrollan had found themselves in charge of their people, and whether he wanted it or not, he took the role seriously. He had a duty to protect their people. And there were things that the three of them knew that had to be kept secret.

  “Well let's start with that,” she snapped at him.

  Start? Hendrick had to restrain a groan. She really had a head full of steam today. Still, he tried to be calm.

  “Because my mother, bless her icy little heart, is right. The greatest danger is that one of us will gain all the spells needed to learn about these infernal engines, and then travel through the wastes, find them, learn to use them, and overcome anyone who might try to stop him. The more immediate danger is that some having gained new spells and wanting more, will use them to cause harm. Limiting the number of spells each of us can acquire reduces the chance of those things happening. Unofficially of course.”

  “It is what my mother once called, an example of the most horrible word in Enstyr or any tongue – compromise.”

  He himself wasn't compromising though, and he felt a little guilty for it. But he had picked up his latest pair of spells only a few days before and now possessed fourteen when the limit for everyone else was ten. But he justified his actions to himself by arguing that he needed them. He travelled alone into dangerous realms. He needed all the magic he could hold.

  “And officially?”

  “Officially it's just smart strategy. The beast keeps sending out his servants to the various cities and we have to protect them. One gifted person with twenty spells is unlikely to be as effective as two with ten spells each. For a start one man
can't defend two towns or cities at once. And we need to defend as many as we can as quickly as possible. That was the deal we made.”

  Which meant in practice that as soon as one of their recruits gained a useful warspell, he or she was sent out to stand with the soldiers in the city. Or if he reached ten spells and had learned nothing useful he was sent home. Even if he or she couldn’t be a useful magical warrior, their spells might make them useful in their home town.

  “It's also fairer. We have more people arriving now, and only so many people that can sleep in the temple while being watched over. Those who stay longer are taking places from those who are yet to come.”

  “Alright. That I can understand. But it’s not why I came. This is, you oaf!” She reached into her jacket's inside pocket, pulled out a piece of parchment and slammed it down on the table. “Why in the name of the gods, are you asking us to do this?! It makes us look like mist breathing pillocks!”

  “That?!” He was surprised. More than that he was bothered by the way that heads all around them were turning in their direction as she once again raised her voice. He wished she would moderate her voice and her temper, but he knew that asking her to would only lead to more arguments. “It’s exactly what I said it was. A present from Val.”

  “The spiky haired, big nosed sage wrote that?!” She seemed incredulous.

  “Actually he dictated it and I acted as the scribe, but yes.” What could she be so upset about, he wondered?

  “But he's supposed to be quick of wit!” She let out her disbelief in an almost explosive string of words.

  “He is. And this … will help.” Hendrick was a little disappointed that she didn't understand. But he supposed she couldn't be blamed for that. It was rather an odd idea. And for those gifted with magic – they were working hard on thinking of themselves as such – it probably seemed pointless. It wasn't magic. It wasn't a proper potion that would cure anything. It was just a meditation. And yet it would work – eventually. He took a deep breath before he tried to explain it to her – quietly.

  “It's simple. Once Val and I learned what the fragments of magic metal were, a lot of other things became clearer. Questions were answered. Why for example, can anyone pick up a spell? In other worlds usually only those who are magical can learn spells. Why do the spells leave marks on our bodies? That's also not normal. And why do they fade a little over time?

  Now we know that the answer is that these spells come with a piece of an ancient wizard's soul. But a person can only have one soul. So when a person receives a piece of the soul of one of the ancient wizards, the body tries to cast it out. But it can't do that completely. Instead it is left to mark the body.”

  “We are tainted I suppose. But that taint is the very reason why someone without magic can cast a spell. The ancient wizard's soul casts it. We just direct that cast out piece of soul. We aren't true wizards. What matters though is that the markings fade over time as slowly the afflicted learns the spell and how to cast it himself. If we can ever completely get rid of those markings the ancient wizards soul would be destroyed and we would be actual wizards.”

  “This meditation should speed up that process.” He looked across at Marnie and knew instantly that she didn't believe him.

  “It's about making the spells a part of the afflicted's – I mean the gifted's – soul and no longer a part of the ancient wizard's. Regular practice will cause the markings to fade, and in time vanish completely. It will also give our people the best possible command of their spells. And I want every one of us, here and across the entire realm, to do it. For every spell they possess, every day.”

  “Why?”

  At least she didn't ask how she was supposed to make that happen. Because he was a little unclear on that himself. Even though there were now well over a hundred and fifty afflicted going through the process of absorbing spells and a handful more arriving every day, that was nothing compared to the thousands or tens of thousands out there who either knew nothing of what was happening or else simply didn't want to be involved. How they told them about the meditation technique and urged them to practice it, he didn't know. But it had to be done.

  “Because of what my mother said. That if these infernal magical engines are put in reverse and the magic that was bound is released, it will kill us. She's right. Even if the world survived there's almost no chance that we would survive the freeing of the magic that's bound inside us. We would be killed or at least terribly hurt. Releasing that magic all at once would be like being struck by lightning – from the inside. And the more spells each of us has, the more we'll be struck. But if the spells are part of us instead of the ancient wizard's soul, the magic in theory shouldn't be released at all and we'll survive.”

  “More than that if we are successful in removing the taint, then when we finally die the magic will no longer be returned to its bound form. It will be released to the world, free as it should always have been.”

  It was guesswork of course. They couldn't know anything for certain. But since the engines were designed to collect magic and concentrate it for the seven ancient wizards, putting them in reverse would only release it from those seven ancient wizards. The magic metal fragments spread across the realm. And the taint of them that now resided inside the afflicted. On the other, hand most of the afflicted would care only about one thing; that it would remove the markings from them, allowing them to walk the world without people knowing they were afflicted. Of course that would leave them vulnerable to being called witches and warlocks. There was no perfect solution.

  “We can't tell them that.” Finally Marnie lowered her voice. “Not about the ancient wizards. And our people aren't going to want to spend hours every day, practising spells that already come easily to them. They'll feel like fools!”

  “I know. But we can tell them that this is the way to let them fully master their spells.” And who wouldn't want that he thought? “That's your task by the way. To convince people of the value in this. You should like it.”

  “Me? Why would I enjoy telling people to do something so dim witted? You think I want people to think I'm a bespawling mist breathing dotard?”

  “Because this is how we become actual wizards. True wizards. But don't tell Mother!” He risked a small smile. “But real wizards. Not like the ones from the book or those from the bards' tales.”

  “What?” She stared at Hendrick unhappily.

  “The first wizards used magic in a way we can’t. They weren't bound as we are to a single discipline. And they wouldn’t have described themselves as wizards. They were sages and scholars. Everything they could do was based on knowledge and strength of will.”

  “We also know that once they'd learned to use the magic all around them, they found a way to make it a part of them. That's when they became the wizards of the legends. But still they weren’t really wizards. They were just thieves of magic.”

  “We aren't like those wizards – and I hope we never will be. We don't have the knowledge of the first wizards. And we don't enslave the magic to us either. Rather it feels more like the magic uses us as hosts. By constantly practising this meditation we instead make that magic a true part of us. We become something new. Not a scholar using magic purely by dint of knowledge. Not a thief stealing the magic through the use of great magical engines that bind it to our souls either. But instead an actual magical being.”

  “I think that's how it should always have been. This way we get to become magical beings, but without raping the land. And when we die any magic contained within us is returned to the world as free wild magic.”

  “Over time there will gradually be less of the bound magic left in the world, and a lot more free magic. Magic that will be absorbed by creatures as they live, and which will transform them into new creatures. Maybe we won't have unicorns and dragons again. But we will have other new and wondrous creatures.” At least that was his assumption. It was Val's too. This would eventually change their world.

  “And
then the cycle starts again?” Marnie was quick to recognise the problem.

  “Maybe. In thousands of years’ time. Once magic is free once more. But I hope that before that happens we’ll have found an answer. First though we have to deal with the behemoth and the chance that someone among us will find and use the great engines to try and make themselves normal and end up killing us all.”

  “Oh the gods be praised!” She lowered her head to stare at the table for a bit. “You're just tossing dice in the wind and hoping they'll come up sixes, aren't you?”

  “A little bit,” he admitted. “What else can we do?”

  “Which brings me to the other question. What else have you done?” Marnie raised her head again to pierce him with an annoyed stare. “I just had a very confused conversation with Brother Thieran before I came here. What exactly did you say to him?”

  “Oh?” He was surprised. “Only what we talked about. I asked him to get all the temples, abbeys and monasteries to act as collection points for the fragments.” He paused for a moment, wondering what could be so troublesome about that. She had agreed to the plan after all. And then he remembered the other part that he and Tyrollan had discussed later. Did she not know about it? Had she not been there for that? “And I also said that they could arrange some private ceremonies.”