back to the world of men,” she explained.
“Did you have watchers? And if so… why didn’t they bring you back?” Even before I said it I wondered if the question might be too sensitive, but I had to ask anyway.
“I did, but some things cannot be undone. I knew the price and I made my choice, which is why I tried to preserve my knowledge for the future, before I lost myself.” She answered plainly, and if the question bothered her she gave no sign of it.
“You say I am ‘sensitive’, what does that have to do with it?”
“Everything… sensitivity is the way we used to look for possible talents in this regard. In general, once a young mage first showed his power he would be watched carefully. After a year we would test his sensitivity, primarily by checking the range of his mage-sight,” Moira said.
“Does that range or sensitivity give an indication of a mage’s power?”
“Not really. Many powerful wizards were too lacking in sensitivity to become archmages… most of them in fact. Conversely, some archmages were fairly mediocre in terms of pure wizardry. I myself was only considered a ‘moderate’ when my personal power was tested, but my sensitivity was very high. I was closely watched from the time my power first manifested until the time I chose to surrender my life in the attempt to stop Balinthor.” She said this with a certain amount of pride.
Needless to say the conversation had taken a fascinating turn for me. I had read about things such as ‘emittance’ and ‘capacitance’ being used to characterize the differences between wizards and channelers, stoics and prophets… but what Moira was discussing was more particular to my own situation. “How did you measure sensitivity?” I asked her directly.
“The most common test was to see how far away a mage could sense a particular object or person. Anything over five hundred yards was considered ‘very sensitive’. Individuals that tested in that range would be watched carefully to make sure they did no harm to themselves before they could learn to control their abilities. Those judged to be extremely sensitive would be watched throughout their lives… to ensure their own safety.”
“Was that really for their safety, or the safety of others?” I questioned pointedly. I was a bit sore on the topic of not being trusted purely because of one’s magical ability.
“For their own safety… most archmages that go too far do not endanger anyone, they merely lose themselves.”
“What is that like?”
The elemental being stared into me with penetrating eyes, “I was created before my namesake joined the earth completely, so I don’t know, but I have her memories of near ‘misses’ during her life before that day. Becoming something like the earth, or the wind, is too far beyond human experience for it to make sense anyway. Everything you know, everything you are, would be erased, replaced by a vast uncaring reality. There would be no ‘memory’ of such a thing; memory itself ceases to have meaning when discussing something such as the ‘earth’ or ‘wind’.”
“This ability sounds almost useless,” I commented.
“That is because we have only discussed the dangers. There are many advantages you have not discovered yet,” she informed me.
“And what are those?”
“Before we get that far… you’ll need to share some information with me. How far away can you sense a specific individual?” As she asked I could feel the focus of her beautiful gem-like eyes boring into my own. She seemed particularly intent on this question.
“How far were you able to sense a person?” I retorted.
“Nearly a thousand yards,” she replied instantly. “Don’t avoid the question. I need to know, to assess what you will be capable of learning.”
“Fine,” I replied. “I can sense a specific person out to a distance of a little over half a mile, probably over eight or nine hundred yards,” I lied. The truth was I could sense someone at twice that distance, now that the bond had been broken. I wasn’t sure what that might mean in terms of my abilities, but I wasn’t about to give the information away without being sure of the motives of the person that wanted to know.
“I suspected as much. Even in my day that was exceptional, especially for an Illeniel,” she remarked.
That smacked of an insult. “What does that mean?” I demanded.
She laughed. “Despite their historical honor as the first ‘great’ line of wizards the Illeniels did not produce many archmages. The Illeniel lineage was renowned for producing powerful wizards but not many of them were exceptional in terms of sensitivity.
Our conversation had begun to fill me with a frustrated energy. To work some of it off I stood and began to pace, hoping to relax my body. I was relieved to finally be getting some answers, but I wasn’t sure I liked what they implied. Finally I spoke again, “I still don’t really understand why ‘sensitivity’ is important for archmages.”
She walked beside me as she answered, “It isn’t important Mordecai. It is everything. An archmage listens and by listening he understands. Through understanding he becomes. The ‘ears’ that you use to listen are a byproduct of wizardry. The same sense that allows you to perceive magic allows you to listen to the world itself… to become the world itself. Does that make it clearer?”
“Yes, but this power sounds too dangerous to use.”
“That is because I have been telling you of the most dangerous uses. An archmage can listen to many less dangerous things, things more similar to his own, human nature. He can also listen in a more limited manner. Power can be gained without passing the threshold. You have caused the earth to shake several times already haven’t you? Yet you retained your humanity.” She stopped and reached down, into the earth beneath our feet and when she straightened up again she held a dense glassy stone in her hand. “Here take this,” she said, handing it to me.
“What is this for?” I asked in surprise.
“A lesson,” she replied. “Do exactly as I say and perhaps you will understand better. Crush the stone with your hand.” I gave her an odd look but decided to humor her. With a word I encased the stone in my hand with a shield of invisible force and then I began to contract it as I squeezed with my hand. She put her hand on my arm before I could accomplish her request. “Stop,” she told me.
“What?”
“Use your hand, not a shield.”
“My hand isn’t strong enough,” I said.
“Channel the energy into your muscles and bones,” she explained.
I gave her a stern look. I had seen the effects of physical power on the human body already, mostly by watching what it did to Penelope when she had been my Anath’Meridum. She had once stopped a mace in full swing with her bare hand. To be charitable she had done it to save my life, but it had resulted in a multitude of broken bones in her hand. “No,” I said, clenching my jaw.
Moira looked at me with an expression of surprise. “Why not?”
“I would destroy my hand doing that,” I said with a flat stare in her direction.
“Too bad, that lesson had two parts, the first being a crash course in healing yourself. Obviously you’ve spent a lot of time applying your powers in various situations. In my time a mage of your age was usually a lot less experienced in such matters.”
“I’ve been forced by circumstances,” I told her.
She smiled, “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Very well let’s move to the more practical application. Listen to the stone… and pay attention to it carefully.”
Despite what I had already undergone with the voices of the wind and the earth it hadn’t really occurred to me that something as small and innocuous as a rock might have its own voice. Some of the books I had found in my father’s library had discussed the matter of sentience and existence… concluding that the very nature of ‘existing’ included a certain amount of awareness. Inanimate objects were alive in a sense, which is why the earth had a voice, though its awareness was completely foreign to the human mind.
What I hadn’t really considered was the full ramifications of that fact… it meant that even small objects, such as this stone, had their own limited awareness… though it might be very minimal. I stared at the rock for several moments before asking, “Is that possible, to hear something so small?”
Her blue stone eyes reflected the light of the afternoon sun, giving her an eerie look for a moment. “Yes it is possible. You must be careful in how you do it though; listen and make the stone a part of yourself, like an extra
