Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“You mean yourself?” I asked.

“Yes, Gareth Gaelyn and I were the last to create such bonds,” she replied.

“So they were men?”

“And women, occasionally. They were given power to protect their charge.”

“So they were similar to the Anath’Meridum?” I questioned.

She frowned, the expression seeming almost completely human despite the exotic composition of her cheeks and lips. “No, the Anath’Meridum, from what I understand, were created by wizards… after the sundering. They were an effort to appease the church and the people of the time I do not doubt. Very likely they were inspired by the memory of the targoth cherek.”

She paused for a moment before elaborating. “Despite the superficial similarities they were entirely different than your pact-bearers. Each targoth cherek was given his or her power to protect an archmage. They served as bodyguards, rather than executioners.”

I couldn’t help but interrupt, “Were their lives connected to the archmage they served?”

Moira snorted, which seemed odd given her form. “Absolutely not, they were connected to the earth not another human being. We weren’t stupid enough to link two people’s lives in such a foolish manner.”

“Why weren’t there any more created after the war with Balinthor?”

“There weren’t any archmages,” she said matter-of-factly. “The creation of the Anath’Meridum made sure of that.”

“So only…,” I began.

“Yes, only an archmage could facilitate the bond between a mortal being and the earth,” she said answering my unfinished question.

“Hmmm,” I said sagely as I considered her words.

“You don’t understand why, do you?” she asked pointedly.

“No,” I admitted.

“Any such bond, such as the bond you took with your wife, is a bond between two mutually consenting beings. It cannot be forced. A wizard is unable to communicate with the earth… and for that matter so is everyone else. An archmage must facilitate, must communicate with the earth or no such bond can be formed,” she explained.

I was beginning to get the general idea, but I still had many questions. “Were the ‘miellte’ you mentioned before, the watchers, were they also ‘targoth cherek’?” I was referring to the watchers that observed archmages to keep them from overusing their powers.

Moira laughed, “No… that would be pointless. The ‘miellte’ were wizards themselves and such a bond would have limited their ability to listen, to communicate, just as your pact kept you from hearing the earth. A bond with the earth, or anything else, would keep the miellte from hearing the mind of the archmage they were tasked with watching.”

Now that she said it aloud it made more sense to me. “So the targoth cherek were created as guardians?”

“Of a sort,” she replied. “They were almost exclusively bodyguards for the one or two archmages alive at any given time.”

It was time to get down to brass tacks. It sounded as if the earth-bond she was describing might be perfect for my purpose but I needed to know what its effects were, as well as how to create it. “So to be more specific, is there a limit to how many of these earth-bonds an archmage can create, and what are the drawbacks?” Experience had taught me that there had to be problems.

Her eyebrows, or what passed for eyebrows anyway… shot up in surprise. “You would attempt something like that? You have barely begun to learn to control your ability.”

“My life, since learning of my magical gifts, has been rough. The only thing I am sure of is that I rarely have as much time as I should. If I don’t move forward I will be caught by my enemies before I have learned how to deal with them,” I told her.

“You just slew an army of over thirty thousand men, how many enemies could you have left?” she asked, but there was more than a question in her eyes, there was a challenge there as well.

“More than when I started. Those men were never my enemies; my true enemy was always the dark god behind them, Mal’goroth. Since I stopped them he is only stronger and the shiggreth he created are loose upon the land. Even now they are multiplying somewhere that I cannot see them,” I replied.

“Are those your only enemies?”

Her question gave voice to my fear and suddenly I knew for a fact that my paranoia must be correct. “No, there are others. The other dark gods certainly, and I suspect the shining gods are worse than neutral; they may actually be malign as well. Beyond that I have no idea, but I must assume I have a growing crowd of ‘admirers’ among my own kind as well.”

She nodded her head in agreement, “You are right to fear the shining gods. They may be your greatest foes. Whether they are malign to humanity I do not know, but they certainly bear you no good will.”

Her statement reminded me of my recent run-in at the royal palace. “I spoke with Celior not long ago. He said something I didn’t understand.”

“It is rare that they say anything worth hearing,” she commented.

“He said that I bore ‘Illeniel’s Doom’ and that I should die before destroying us all,” I told her. “Have you heard of it before?”

She sat for a long time and I almost gave up on her answering. “I have heard of it. My Mordecai, the one that died long ago, mentioned it once,” she said. Her expression had grown distant, as if she was remembering times and places far removed from the present. I suppose she must have been thinking of her lover, the Illeniel she had known in her time that had born my name. At last she stared at me again, “I do not know what he meant. It was related to some sort of secret your family kept. All he would tell me was that it was an old family shame, something that went back to the founder, the first Illeniel.”

That’s just what I need, more secrets, I thought quietly to myself. “How will I find out?” I said aloud, more to myself than to her.

“That’s for you to figure out. Perhaps you will never know, though if it were that important I would think your family might have kept some sort of record,” she said.

“Perhaps in my father’s house,” I said, thinking aloud. There was still a lot that needed exploring there. I had barely begun to scratch the surface of the books there. In fact I had only read four of the books from my father’s library so far… one of history, one regarding teleportation circles and a couple relating to the use of illusions. Those last two I was still coming to grips with. I shook my head and spoke again, “You’ve let me get sidetracked. I wanted to know about the limitations and drawbacks involved with the targoth cherek.”

She smiled, “It isn’t my job to keep you on track. Besides, only one of us is completely ‘real’, so I can’t be blamed.” Her face took on a more serious expression then. “To answer your question, yes, there are limitations and drawbacks, very serious ones. You remember the stone I had you work with the last time we spoke I am sure. Let us use it as an example. That stone, small as it was, had a small amount of latent power of its own, as well as a minimal level of consciousness. When you listened to it your task was to make the stone a part of yourself, a part of your consciousness, a part of your ‘body’. The risk, which I described to you then, was that you might accidentally make yourself a part of ‘it’ instead of the other way around. You remember all of this, don’t you?”

“Yes of course,” I said immediately.

“You also should remember the loss of self you experienced when you tried to ‘listen’ to the wind and went past your limit. An occasion like that is why having a miellte present can be very important, that girl… Ariadne, she saved your life when she got your attention and brought you back to yourself. The same principle applies when you work with the earth. A small stone is a small risk; it is easy to maintain your ‘self’. A large stone is more risk, and more difficult to make a part of yourself, without you instead becoming a part of it. Does all of this make sense so far?”