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 up 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?”