Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like… whether you choose to believe it… or not, is entirely up to you,” I said calmly.

“I couldn’t possibly believe that,” he said.

“Of course you can’t. In order to accept that you would have to face the possibility that much of what you were taught is a lie, that the very truths that you based your oath upon, that you have lived your life for… were false.”

“You’re wasting your time,” the older man growled under his breath.

“Answer one question for me. If you believed me… if most of what you had been taught was shown to be false… what would you do then?” I asked.

Cyhan paused for a moment and I could see him giving it serious thought. Something approaching sadness settled in his eyes for a moment before he answered, “I would fulfill my oath.”

“What folly! What meaning does honor have if it does not serve reason?” I exclaimed.

His face was deadly serious when he replied, “Honor is all I have and it means nothing if I could change my oaths at a whim.”

“It is worse than nothing if it doesn’t answer to a man’s conscience!” I spat out. For all my reserve the resolute warrior in front of me had finally managed to rouse my ire. Not that my anger had any discernible effect. “I can’t believe I thought you might possibly listen to reason.” Turning away from him I stepped back into the corridor. “Come on,” I said, gesturing for him to follow, “it’s time for you to leave.”

He stepped out into the hallway behind me. “You really are a fool,” he muttered.

I didn’t bother to look back at him, “Don’t push your luck.” With my extra senses I could see him looking around as he followed me up and out of the dungeon; even now he was looking for opportunities… whether they were for escape or murder I didn’t want to know. I led him through the castle halls and eventually we emerged into the sunlight of the castle yard.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“The stables,” I replied, not bothering to explain further. A few minutes later we reached the stable and I told the groom to fetch my horse. I had ridden to Lancaster that day, rather than use the teleport circle.

Cyhan raised an eyebrow as I handed him the reins, “What sort of game is this?” he asked. I could almost hear the unspoken ‘boy’ at the end of his sentence. At some point during the war with Gododdin he had stopped adding that to his sentences when he spoke to me, but some habits are hard to break.

“The king wants me to meet him at a small village named ‘Tilbrook’ in two weeks’ time,” I said. “I need to send him a reply and I’m short on messengers. I figure returning you to his majesty’s service will serve that purpose and get you out of my hair.”

“You want me to tell him you’ll be there to put your head in the noose?”

“I don’t intend to go. Tell his majesty I will meet him in his chambers within a day or two of your arrival,” I said.

“I doubt that he’ll welcome that message. If you intend to sneak into the royal palace it might be wise not to warn him you’re coming,” he suggested.

“For a man that wants me dead you’re remarkably full of advice,” I responded. “By warning him in advance I’ll be able to give him three messages at once. The first being that I can come and go at will, whether he is forewarned or not, and second that I am a civilized man… otherwise we would already be looking for a new king.” I stopped there.

“What is the third message?”

I smiled. “That’s for the king’s ears alone; otherwise there’d be no purpose for our private chat.”

Cyhan mounted the horse and looked down at me. I could see a dozen possible responses flickering across his features, but in the end he left with a simple statement, “I regret our next meeting Mordecai.” The calm confidence in those words sent a chill down my spine but I shrugged it off. I hadn’t come this far by giving in to fear. I watched him ride for long minutes with my eyes and I continued to follow his progress with my arcane senses even after the trees had obscured him from view.

Since Penny and I had broken the bond my ‘magesight’ had returned to its previous acuity. If I focused my attention I could sense things slightly more than a mile away. If I was following a particular person or thing I could stretch that limit even further, to something approaching a mile and a half. As far as I could tell, that was the limit of my ‘wizardly’ senses, but I was beginning to learn that there were other ways to experience the world.

Cyhan and the horse I had given him were passing beyond my normal limit now, and still they seemed to be headed in the proper direction, south, toward the capital. I decided to test my newer abilities and took a deep breath, stilling my mind and listening quietly to the voices that surrounded me. As usual the first sensation was one of confusion, much like walking into a crowded room filled with a hundred different conversations. The key was to relax and listen, till you could locate the sound of a familiar voice and begin to make sense of their conversation. This time I had a particular voice in mind and I focused on the susurrations of the wind. Over the past month I had discovered that the wind is a capricious and chaotic entity, at times soft and gentle it could turn wild with little notice. I felt my mind expanding as I followed its random eddies and currents until I was swept out into an ever larger sky filled with scattered clouds and warm sunshine. As my world expanded I struggled to keep part of my attention upon the terrain near Lancaster, and one particular rider on a road not too far from the castle.

He was still heading south, though I wasn’t sure why I cared anymore. For some reason I had yet to comprehend, the wider I spread my awareness the less I cared about the particulars. The real skill lay in balancing the knowledge of the carefree wind against the well-defined questions of my all too limited human mind. If I opened myself too much I would forget my reasons for looking and be swept away in daydreams of swaying trees and rushing clouds, not enough and I wouldn’t be able to find the information I wanted.

I stood there, transfixed for what may have been an hour, or a full day… time no longer seemed relevant. I had watched the tiny rider and his mount pass beyond the border of Lancaster but they no longer interested me. What really fascinated me now were the great currents of air that drove the clouds to the south and east. I could feel myself spreading ever further as the sun poured through me, illuminating the earth below and casting dappled shadows from the clouds upon the ground…

“Mordecai!” Someone was shouting into my ear again. The voice seemed familiar. I blinked, which was a strange sensation for I couldn’t recall having something periodically blocking my vision like this before. Something stood before me, a strange creature with soft filaments of reddish gold streaming around it… what was that called again? Hair I think, that’s what I used to call it, I thought to myself. She was also waving her appendages at me… She? What does that mean? I wondered.

At last my fragmented thoughts began to come together and I realized that Ariadne Lancaster was standing in front of me, waving her hands in my face to get my attention. “Mordecai! Can you hear me? Look at me!” she said, sounding alarmed. Things snapped into focus at last, and my eyes locked onto hers.

“Ariadne?” I said stupidly. “What’s wrong?” Ariadne was my best friend Marcus Lancaster’s younger sister. Although she was a few years younger than us she had developed into a stunning beauty, much like her mother. Red gold hair framed a pixie’s face that was currently marred by a look of concern.