The Archmage unbound m-3

by Michael G. Manning

  I couldn’t help myself. I put up my hand like a school boy and asked, “Yes, I was just wondering when you intend on meeting with Lord Hight…oww!” Penny had just kicked me under the table, and not delicately. I exclaimed more from surprise than pain though; as usual I had a shield closely woven around myself.

  “Anything else your Excellency?” Penny asked with one eyebrow raised.

  I gave her a hard look before answering, “Actually yes, I do have something else… Harold!”

  Poor Harold looked up as if I had slapped him, “Yes your lordship?”

  “Do you understand the position you are in now?” I asked.

  He gave me a blank stare. He reminded me a lot of Dorian in some ways, though he was quite different in others. “I’m sorry your Excellency, I’m not sure what you mean,” he said at last.

  “There is a reason you’ve been invited to this meeting. I have a real lack of men I can personally trust in my employ. Dorian has said a number of good things about you of late and I have done some checking around on my own. You seem to be a man of integrity as well as skilled at arms,” I said.

  I hadn’t asked any questions so Harold was left wondering what to say. “Thank you, your Excellency,” he ventured at last.

  “To make a long story short I need your service, and not just in your present capacity as a man at arms,” I told him. I went on to describe the new order of knighthood I intended to create.

  Harold stood up from his chair near the end of my explanation. “Begging your pardon sir, you can’t be serious!”

  I was nonplussed. Not understanding his perspective I assumed he was criticizing the idea of a new order of knights. Dorian put his hand on my arm before I could respond, “We are serious. Before you discount yourself think about how you acquitted yourself during the recent war against Gododdin. Lord Cameron did not make this decision lightly and you might consider that before you question his reasons.” As Dorian spoke I realized Harold had been objecting to his own selection, not the plan itself.

  “Do you intend to decline this burden?” I asked young Harold somberly, giving him my most gravid look.

  Harold dropped to one knee as if he had been poleaxed. “No my liege, I will accept whatever you place upon me, insofar as I am able.”

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dorian. I had not expected Harold to be so well spoken. “Very well, rise for now. We will hold the accolade tomorrow so you will need to prepare your vigil tonight.”

  He rose and left with Dorian and Rose while I exchanged a meaningful glance with Penny. Once everyone had left the room I spoke, “Are you sure you’re alright with this plan?”

  She stepped closer and I wrapped my arms around her. Tipping her head back to look at me she gave me an appraising look. “I’d rather be with you but I understand the need. Just don’t make me spend too many nights alone or you’ll have a very cranky pregnant woman on your hands when you return.”

  She laid her head against my chest and I leaned mine forward, resting my cheek against her soft brown hair. We stood that way for a long minute before finally making our way to the door. Looking back Penny studied the room for a moment and frowned. “This room is entirely too dusty. I’ll have to remind Lisette to give it a thorough cleaning.”

  I almost felt sorry for the castle staff… having been a maid once herself, Penny held high standards for them. “Don’t be too hard on her dear, it doesn’t look so bad to me,” I told her.

  “You’re too nice,” she said. “Look in those corners… the dust is so heavy there you can see footprints.”

  I had to admit she was right. “Just try to go easy on Lisette; she’s a young woman in love you know. She might have a few things distracting her.” I led Penny from the room and with our backs to the room I didn’t see the dust stirring behind us or the extra footprints that appeared once our attention had moved away.

  Chapter 14

  That evening I returned to work in the smithy. I was close to finishing the armor I had been crafting for Harold. If he was going to be my body guard in Albamarl I wanted him to look good, as well as being properly equipped. Besides, I had a feeling Lisette would like seeing her young man in his new finery, at least until it began to smell. I chuckled to myself at the thought; even magical armor had a tendency to rankle the nose after a while.

  My best estimate saw me not finishing until after Harold’s knighting. Hopefully I would complete it before we left for the capital. He would simply have to be understanding. It was a surprise anyway, he had no idea I planned to armor all of my knights in such gear.

  While I worked I found myself in an awkward position, needing an extra set of hands and having only my own two. I considered calling in the guards that Dorian had positioned outside but I really didn’t want to give away my secrets to anyone else yet. Then an idea came to me. “Moira,” I called softly, wondering if asking for her help with such a minor task would annoy her.

  She rose up from the packed earth floor with fluid grace. “No, it doesn’t annoy me,” she replied to my unspoken words, “Though I never expected when I created this repository of knowledge that it would someday be used as a smith’s apprentice.”

  She held the hot metal with hands that felt no heat and watched me as I worked. Her eyes today were made from two pieces of glossy slag metal, giving them a strange grey cast, similar to polished hematite. Neither of us spoke for a while as I was fully focused upon my task, smoothing and stroking the burning steel into shape. Eventually I paused to let the metal cool while I used a rule to measure it. This piece was to be part of the greaves that protected the lower leg and it needed to match the already finished piece for the other leg.

  While I did that Moira examined the already finished breastplate and pauldrons, running her hands over the metal and studying the lines of the enchantments I had already laid upon them. I could sense her astonishment as she examined them. “I suppose they must seem rather crude compared to the enchantments created during your time,” I observed.

  She looked up at me, “Not at all. What you have done here is novel, unlike anything created while I was alive, and the sophistication of the enchantments is nothing to laugh at. Your talents would have earned you praise as a mage-smith in my day. Where did you learn this?”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to her compliments. “I just worked with what I already knew, about wards and such. I nearly blew myself up a few times,” I told her, thinking back to my first attempts to create enchantments by storing heat energy.

  “You have no idea how few men possessed the talents to create things like this, even in my day. This alone would set you apart, without even considering your strength as a wizard or your potential as an archmage. Your ancestors would have been proud of you,” she said.

  “So far I’ve only managed to kill a lot of innocent people, I’m not sure how that fits with your assessment,” I said bitterly. For some reason her praise had irritated me.

  “I won’t debate the merits of your actions with you. Your forebears were hardly innocent on that score,” she replied. “The Illeniels were well known for the many mage-smiths and skilled enchanters they produced throughout history. It is interesting to see that the trait has bred true in you despite your lack of guidance or formal training.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I said defensively.

  “How so?”

  “My father taught me from the time I was old enough to work the bellows. I watched him working with iron for most of my life and when I was old enough he showed me everything he could of his knowledge of it.”

  “And you think that explains this?” she laughed, waving her hands at the armor lying on the table behind her. “Are you even aware of the fact that you are using more than mere wizardry as you shape the metal?”

  “I’m just spelling my hands to make them stronger and heat tolerant. There’s nothing more to it than that,” I said brusquely.

  “There is much more to it than that,” she insisted picking u
p the piece I had just been working on. “Do you think metal can be shaped so simply, so gracefully, just because you have given yourself stronger hands? You are talking to it, even as you work. Nothing as profound as what you did with the stone that day, but quietly, subtly, your mind is coaxing it to shape itself under your fingers.”

  I stared at her, stunned, for as she spoke I knew she was telling the truth.

  She set the metal down and pointed at my staff, which I had left leaning by the doorway. “And what of this? Look at the runes… do you realize that the geometry needed to align them like that has to be perfect? Where is the master that taught you that?”

  I did have an answer for that at least, “The duke’s tutors taught me mathematics. It was one of my favorite subjects.”

  “And from that you discern how to create a rune channel to focus power? Doesn’t any of this give you pause to think? At a time in history when wizardry had almost completely died out… you appear, an untaught prodigy. You are a mage as strong as any I have ever heard of and possessing amazing potential as an archmage as well. And after you appear you manage to defeat the only other remaining wizard, one who was about to summon a dark god to finish the job Balinthor started in my time. Then you rediscover the lost art of enchanting and use it to turn back an army of over thirty thousand men. All in the span of less than two years, does none of this cause you to question the nature of your existence?”

  I hadn’t really considered it, though to be fair I hadn’t had her perspective. As a young man without any external guidance I had no way to judge the merits of what I had done. Moira had the benefit of a viewpoint based on the height of mankind’s civilization, over a thousand years gone. “I am what I am,” I replied. “Now that you have pointed it out it does seem odd, but how should I have questioned the gifts I was born with? They all seemed natural to me. What are you suggesting?”

  She was silent for some time before she replied, “I don’t know, but I think you should be aware that you are far beyond the pale, even for my time. I cannot help but see the hand of some agency at work in this and that should make you cautious.”

  I snorted, “I already have half the world and all of the heavens for my enemies. How can I be any more cautious?”

  Moira bowed her head, looking at the floor, and then she returned her gaze to mine. “Just keep this thought in your mind and be watchful. Whatever has set this course for you has been moving along this path for over a thousand years. Until you have discovered whether its intentions are malign or not you should be watchful lest you are maneuvered into doing something you might not wish.”

  “Illeniel’s doom,” I muttered.

  “That may well have something to do with it,” she agreed.

  “And you know nothing of it?” I asked again.

  She shook her head regretfully. “Unfortunately I do not. You will have to discover that on your own.”

  I was sick of mysteries and conspiracies and I decided to change the subject to something more practical. “I have another question for you then,” I began.

  She didn’t respond except to give me her full attention.

  “Will you teach me to create the bond between a mortal and the earth? Will you show me how to make my own targoth cherek?”

  “I will,” she answered, “on one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “You must promise never to deliberately leave one to his fate as I did with Magnus,” she said.

  I could understand her reasons but experience had taught me some hard lessons already. “I cannot agree to that,” I told her.

  Her stony eyes widened, “Why not?”

  “Life has shown me its dark side already. I will not gainsay my ability to make choices in the future, even bad ones. Just as you had to choose between your lover and your guardian’s welfare, so I may have to make hard choices. If you will teach me this, do so freely and I will promise to exercise my best conscience in how I choose to use that knowledge.” I stared evenly into her eyes.

  “You have grown in wisdom at least,” she said at last. “Very well, I will teach you and the consequences of your actions will be on your own head.”

  “I appreciate your trust.”

  “The first thing you must understand is that you can only bind a certain amount of the earth’s power to one person. The greater the amount the faster they will inevitably turn into a part of the earth themselves,” she said, starting upon the topic already.

  I nodded, “You implied that during our last discussion.”

  “You also are restricted as to how much of the earth’s power you may bind to others. The limit is set by how much you can control yourself without losing your own humanity. Though you can create more than one targoth cherek the sum of the power you bind to them cannot exceed your own limit. Is that clear?” she asked.

  It seemed straightforward. “So I can only bind a certain amount and I can choose to divide that among more than one person, so long as the total is no more than my own limit?”

  “Yes, a little among many or a great deal to a few, ideally you should bind as little as possible to achieve your goal. This will extend the time your targoth cherek can retain his humanity. If you are sensible they can survive for decades before they begin to suffer. You must also caution them to exercise prudence in how they use the power. If they continually draw upon it they will turn more quickly.”

  It was late that evening before I finally retired, but I felt more hope for the future than I had in a while when I did. I might not understand all the forces moving around me yet, but the more I learned the better armed I would be in the future.

  Penny growled at me as I tried to reclaim some of the bed sheets to cover myself. “Blankets are reserved for husbands that come to bed at a reasonable hour.”

  “Husbands?” I chuckled. “How many are there?” I eased up against her backside for warmth.

  “There’s going to be one fewer if you keep skipping dinner and leaving me to go to bed alone like some spinster,” she replied grumpily.

  Chapter 15

  My dreams were filled with the sound of drums. Men marched and fire fell from the sky while through it all the drummers kept up their hellish rhythm, and then I woke up. The deep booming drums were replaced by the sound of someone beating on the door, which alarmed me in and of itself. Then I remembered the guards and my extra senses confirmed that they were still there.

  Penny was nowhere to be found and the windows were still dark, dawn had yet to arrive. How does she wake up so early? I wondered as I stomped toward my door. Probably her unhealthy bedtimes. I threw the door open to glare at Dorian standing outside. “I hope you have a damn good reason for this,” I growled.

  He had his characteristically cheerful morning face on. “Good morning sunshine!” he proclaimed.

  That was enough for me; I slammed the door shut and stalked back toward the bed. “There’s no sunshine yet you sadistic bastard!” I yelled at the door behind me.

  “Tell that to Harold,” he replied through the heavy wood.

  I stopped halfway across the room while my muddled brain worked through that statement. I had told Harold Simmons to prepare his vigil, which meant he had spent the night awake, meditating before his dubbing this morning. I grinned evilly to myself. Well at least one person will have had less sleep than me, I thought. Then I remembered the ceremony was to be held at dawn, with the rising of the sun. For an instant my selfish side warred with my better half, telling me to postpone the dubbing until noon at least, but I knew that would be disrespectful.

  Despite the perception many people have of nobility, it isn’t all parades and roses. Perhaps some lords wouldn’t have been concerned, but I didn’t intend to show so little care for the people that served me. Unlike the Baron of Arundel, I thought. I went back to the door and opened it. “I hate you sometimes,” I said to my dear friend. He was still smiling… the bastard.

  “Just be glad it was me,” he said.

  “W
hat do you mean?”

  “Penny wanted to have a bucket of water thrown on you for coming to bed so late,” he said chuckling.

  “And you decided you’d rather have the pleasure of waking me up?” I asked.

  “No I was worried you might hurt the servant if you were startled awake so suddenly,” he replied.

  “Ahh Dorian, you always have my best interests at heart don’t you. I’m still going to kill you slowly after breakfast, but it can wait till Harold’s dubbing is over. I wouldn’t want to spoil the occasion,” I said in mock seriousness.

  “The accolade is first then breakfast,” Dorian corrected. “Harold can’t eat till after it is done.”

  A barbaric damn custom if you asked me, but then no one had. “Help me dress, the sooner I get down there the sooner we can all feed ourselves,” I said callously. Dorian did the honors since I still didn’t have a proper manservant and Penny had gone on strike. I woke up more thoroughly as I got ready and by the time I was presentable I felt a slight bit of guilt over my poor temper. Not that I told Dorian. He deserved to learn prudence, but I did want to do right by Harold.

  We went downstairs and headed for the small chapel that had been repaired when the castle was renovated. Although I no longer revered the goddess the ceremony was traditionally held there. I had been tempted to forbid her worship entirely but I had contented myself with threatening every priest that had applied to minister at the chapel. As a result there was no priest in residence in Castle Cameron any longer, or Washbrook either for that matter. I hadn’t officially made my position known to the people yet, but I was pretty sure that rumors were already starting to circulate.

  “How do you plan to handle the vows?” Dorian asked. He was referring of course to the references to the goddess that were traditionally a part of them.

  “Millicenth can go to hell for all I care!” I said vehemently.