I understand.
She didn’t bother adding anything else, which gave me the impression she probably hadn’t forgiven me for my actions earlier. That’s fine; I can handle the silent treatment. In fact, I prefer it, I thought, though I didn’t broadcast it to her. During my years of marriage I had often wished Penny would resort to the silent treatment, but that had not been her way.
Gareth was slowly losing altitude, gliding ever lower until we were skimming just a few hundred feet over the top of the cypress trees that predominated in that part of the marsh. I directed my thoughts toward him, Why are we descending?
We near the coast, he answered, not bothering to add any further explanation.
While neither Moira nor I really needed rest or sleep anymore, I realized that was probably not true of our still living transportation. That makes sense, I replied. We can rest there before continuing on in the morning.
Where do you intend to travel from there? He asked.
It was a perfectly reasonable question, since I hadn’t bothered to share my intended destination with him yet. We keep going west, over the ocean.
There’s nothing but water and more water once you get past the odd coastal island, he replied with a mental tone of curiosity. Gareth landed on a large but relatively solid stretch of sandy beach. The region where the marsh met the ocean was mostly shallow salt water, thick with reeds and other saltwater plants, but the dragon’s eyes had found us one of the few areas with good solid ground.
“There’s an island,” I said, using my voice now that the noise of his wings had abated.
“I didn’t see one,” Gareth returned, as though his vision alone could see the entirety of the wide seas. Then again, I had to admit, the dragon’s eyes were at least as good as an eagle’s. If he had flown above the coastline in the past, he might have been able to see for many miles on a clear day.
I smiled, though the expression was wasted in my helm, “It’s a bit farther than your eyes can see from here.”
“How much farther?” he asked suspiciously.
I gave the question some thought before answering, “I’m not certain, but roughly the distance we’ve flown today.”
“We covered more than half the breadth of Lothion today. There is nothing that far out, other than the empty deeps,” Gareth told me, stating it as a matter of fact.
Moira chose that point to chime in, “Gareth speaks the truth.”
“The golem is correct,” responded the dragon, before adding silently, You have not told me why you insisted on bringing that creature along.
His aside startled me. It had never occurred to me that he didn’t know who she was. After all, the two of them had been friends before the war with Balinthor, over a thousand years ago. They had been the only two living archmages at the time. Of course, she looked a bit different now, with a body made of earth and stone.
Before I could explain, he spoke again, “How do you know my name?”
I remember the days before the war with Balinthor, she answered, broadcasting her thoughts to both of us now. My creator lived and worked beside you then, before you became a dragon.
“A strange turn of phrase, to say ‘creator’, if you were one of the Targoth Cherek you were not one of mine. Did Moira Centyr create your bond after my—transformation?” The phrase he used, ‘Targoth Cherek’ was the old term for a warrior given the earth bond by an archmage.
Moira didn’t respond immediately, and she sent me a private thought, tinged with reluctance, Perhaps it would be best to leave my origin a secret. It would only bring him pain.
I have kept many things to myself, but it would be unfair to hide this from him, I told her. Opening my mouth, I spoke aloud, “Moira created her as a sort of copy of her personality and memories before she fought Balinthor.” I kept the reason to myself. I doubted even the dragon knew that my daughter wasn’t actually my own child.
The dragon’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “I thought that was forbidden to your family.”
It was, said the Stone Lady, casting her face downward, but she chose to do so anyway. There were none remaining that had the right to gainsay her decision at that point.
What the dragon was referring to was the special gift of the Centyr line of wizards, the ability to create sentient minds from nothing but magic itself. Much like the Prathion talent for invisibility, her family had been able to craft intelligent spells, for the purpose of making temporary servants, or helpers. Their creations had taken many forms, sometimes being nothing more than tiny birdlike messengers, and sometimes being complex entities used to imbue mechanical servants with intelligence.
The one rule the Centyr wizards had always kept, was never making a true doppelganger, or clone of themselves. It was regarded as cruel and inhumane, and given my own status as something similar; I had to agree with their reasoning.
I watched the two of them with interest, two beings who had existed for over a thousand years now. Two witnesses and participants in one of the greatest tragedies humankind had ever experienced; two who knew each other but had not spoken since the day Gareth had transformed and slain both the enemy and the people he had meant to protect. For such a long awaited meeting, they were surprisingly subdued. Neither said anything for a long while.
After what felt like hours, though it was probably only a couple of minutes, the dragon spoke again, “So you remember…” He let the words trail off, unable to finish his sentence, though we all knew there could be only one event he was referring to.
I am not truly Moira Centyr, but I have those memories. I remember it all, just as if I had been there myself, she answered him.
The air itself seemed to hum with barely suppressed tension. The emotions coming from Gareth were so powerful that even his tightly controlled mind with its strangely reptilian nature, could not hide them. His inner pain throbbed, and my own heart seemed to resonate in time with it. It reminded me of the day I had become what I was now, the day I had been separated from my family and everyone that I knew and loved.
“Perhaps it would be better if I left you until morning. I need to hunt and…” began the dragon, turning away.
Moira stepped forward in a rush, placing her hand on his massive foreleg before he could take flight again. Wait. You must know this. She forgave you before she died. So did the others, even Mordecai, though he was angry at first. They understood your mistake, and they felt the same desperation. They—we… we all made our own mistakes.
Her use of the name, ‘Mordecai’ confused me for a moment, until I realized she was referring to my ancestor, the man she had loved.
“Mistakes? I didn’t make a mistake! I murdered my own people. Ripping and burning, I destroyed everything I cared about,” spat the dragon in a bitter tone.
Your mind was not your own, after the transformation…
“It was this mind. The one you see before you now. I did not change again. In my rage I killed everything that moved, and when nothing moved I waited. I waited and hunted for days, catching the survivors as they emerged from hiding!” he said, shouting down her attempt at consoling him.
Moira was not swayed by his fury however. You were a new creature, maddened by your new body and senses, driven by instincts you had never experienced. You adapted and eventually you learned to control yourself, or we would not be able to converse now.
“You did not kill your…” he started, but she cut him off.
I destroyed a nation, and all the innocents that still hid within it. I helped create the Shining Gods, and I bear the guilt for everything they have done since we left them orphaned and unmastered. GET OVER IT. If I can forgive you, if I can forgive myself, then you can do so as well. You’ve had a thousand years and more to grieve. Her mental voice was taut with emotion, and at points rose to the psychic equivalent of a shout.
Listening to the two of them, I had to wonder at her resolve. I had once slaughtered most of the healthy male population of Gododdin, when they had invaded Lo
thion, and I had yet to completely forgive myself. After that I had been responsible for the deaths of a number of innocents as I attempted to protect my friends and family. Peter and Lily Tucker always came to mind first when I considered that. While Moira’s argument carried a lot of force, I had never fully forgiven myself. I had merely learned to live with the guilt.
I opened my mouth to add my own thoughts, “I’ve suffered from my own mistakes as well, but I think perhaps…”
“Stay out of this!” growled the dragon immediately, cutting me off. His words were echoed by Moira’s mental sentiment.
The two of them stared at one another silently for a minute before I realized they were conversing privately, leaving me out of the conversation. It was an unpleasant sensation, and it was a relief when Moira finally asked me, Since we have stopped traveling for the night, I would like some time alone with Gareth, to sort out our past. May I take my leave of you until tomorrow?
The question surprised me, but I acquiesced readily enough. “Certainly, just make sure you both return with the dawn.”
The dragon dipped his head in acknowledgement and lowered his body so that the Stone Lady could climb back on. Within moments they were gone, and I was left alone on the sand, surrounded by the natural beauty of the salt marsh behind me and the glory of the sun setting over the ocean before me. I couldn’t help but wonder what they would talk about.
It was useless to speculate, so instead I enjoyed the grand display of pinks and oranges in the clouds behind me, while the sea itself became infused with pastels reflected by the foamy wave tops. Without the need to sleep, the night would be tedious. Even the usual camping chores, a fire, a meal, etc…, were unnecessary. Once I’ve finished this business, I will be unnecessary as well.
Such melancholy thoughts were my frequent companions these days. With a sigh I drew out my link to the Iron Heart Chamber and began the long process of drawing out its power. It would be needed in the days ahead, of that I was sure.
Chapter 16
My traveling companions returned in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun had made its appearance. Perhaps ‘companions’ was too generous a term; menials or thralls might be better words, since I had given them little choice in their circumstances. I’m in a cheerful mood this morning, I noted sarcastically.
I noticed one major difference after their arrival. The Stone Lady was no longer stone.
When I first detected the dragon at the edge of my magesight, I identified both of them without trouble, primarily because of their distinctive aythar. While Gareth Gaelyn was large and imposing physically, his powerful aythar shone like a beacon. Moira Centyr’s was much more subdued, in large part because she no longer produced aythar as a living creature would. She had only what remained from her creator, a supply that had been steadily dwindling over the centuries, until my enchantment had altered the basic nature of her existence.
It wasn’t until they drew closer that her drastic physical change was apparent to me. She was flesh and blood now. Her artificial spirit, with its limited aythar caged by my enchantment, was still the same; no wizard would mistake her for a normal human, but she now resided within a body made of living flesh. Dark hair, almost black, framed a pale face with light grey eyes and pale pink lips. Her new form was beautiful in an almost casual fashion, none of her features were striking, but their combination was pleasant to the eye.
I hid my surprise, “Much better, you looked like shit yesterday.”
Her brows lifted in amusement, “The man whom you resemble was much nicer. Your comments don’t suit you. You’d have a much better time of it if you quit trying so hard to set yourself apart as an asshole.”
“I’m glad to see that our time apart has renewed your interest in banter,” I said, inspecting her discreetly. She was garbed in little more than a plain woolen shift. “I would also remind you that you didn’t know Mordecai very well. He was not nearly so kind as you like to think.”
The dragon was laughing inwardly. It wasn’t something that could be seen, but I could feel his mirth, and it irritated me.
“You definitely got his stubbornness in full measure,” she commented. “Aren’t you curious about my change?”
Rather than validate her remark, I answered honestly, “In fact, I am.”
Gareth chose that point to join in. “After our conversation last night, I offered to alter her body for her. It was—a small gift.”
I suspected that he had meant to say ‘repayment’, but had changed his mind at the last moment. From what I knew of the ancient archmage, he did not believe that he would ever be able to atone for his crimes. It was also one of the very few times I had known him to use his abilities as an archmage. He had transformed his own body once or twice in the past, but doing so for someone else was an egg of a different color.
From my own experience, it involved an extreme level of intimacy, for accomplishing it would require the same sort of entanglement that was used during the most advanced types of healing. Simple healing required only wizardry, but major restorations required a sort of intuitive, innate self-knowledge. That sort of knowledge couldn’t be acquired externally. Gareth would have been forced to become her to some degree, before he could then transform her body to the human form she remembered.
The most remarkable part, to my mind, was that in the past Gareth had made a point of showcasing his defiant independence. He had made me believe it was a fundamental part of his draconic nature, yet the type of joining Moira’s transformation necessitated completely belied that idea. Either the dragon had been lying to me all along, or he felt an enormous debt to this shadow of a woman he had once known.
It also told me that he was still fully in command of his abilities both as a wizard and an archmage, no matter how many centuries he had been living as a dragon.
All of this passed through my mind in a matter of seconds, while my conscious mind struggled to find a fitting reply. “This is going to ruin your reputation if it becomes public knowledge,” I said at last.
Moira Centyr burst into raucous laughter at that point. Not the delicate, feminine, partly suppressed laughter that women sometimes use, but the more honest sort, full of snorts and unladylike whoops. It had been more than a year since I had heard a woman’s laugh, and it startled me how much I missed the sound.
“We need to speak privately,” I told the dragon before addressing Moira, “For the next five minutes you can no longer hear, nor will you use any other means to eavesdrop on this conversation.” Her expression became irritated as my command took effect, robbing her of her auditory capacity.
Ignoring her expression, I nodded at Gareth and began walking away, indicating that he should follow. “That was rather heavy handed,” he informed me.
“Ask me if I care,” I replied, “I don’t have time to worry about my social capital. I’m not even a real person and I have a lot to accomplish.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, “Then give me your commands, Master, so that we can keep this conversation short.” His tone was laced with sarcasm.
“The enchantment I used to keep her from disappearing is the same one that was used to create the Shining Gods. If nothing is done about it, she will be forced to persist forever, something I am sure she does not want, especially considering how well they did with their immortality,” I explained. Leaning close to the dragon’s head, I whispered the words that were the key to Moira’s enchantment. “Did you hear me clearly?” I asked afterward.
“Yes.”
“Those words will enable you to release her when this is over,” I explained.
“Why do you share this with me?” he asked.
“Because I trust you will do the right thing, even if I cannot,” I stated plainly. It was clear enough to me now, especially since he had transformed her—that Gareth Gaelyn cared deeply for the well-being of Moira Centyr’s shade. That made him the perfect candidate to entrust with this knowledge.
“You are undying, it is u
nlikely that you will not be present to do whatever is necessary for her yourself,” he argued mildly.
“I don’t particularly like my condition, and even putting that aside, the real Mordecai is still in here,” I said, tapping my chest for emphasis. “The spell-weaving that keeps me here also keeps his soul trapped within. If he is to be allowed to truly rest in peace I have to find a way to put an end to this.” Because of Lyralliantha’s command I was unable to tell him of her gift, but it was hardly necessary to make my point. “Rather than take chances, I think it’s important to make sure that someone else knows how to unmake her, someone she can trust.”
Gareth stepped around my words to ask a pointed question, “Are you someone she can trust?”
I smiled at him, though I knew he couldn’t see my face behind the steel helm, “Neither of you can trust me. I have other priorities that I will put before yours. I would damn both of you to accomplish my goals without blinking an eye.”
“Sharing this information does not help you,” he observed.
“This is merely a kindness of convenience. Don’t read more into it than that,” I answered, before turning back to walk toward where we had left our temporarily deaf companion. Her hearing returned soon after, though I suspected her mood would take longer to recover.
“About this island you say is across the ocean…,” began Gareth.
“You sound skeptical,” I interrupted.
The dragon paused for a moment, issuing an almost inaudible rumbling. Was he growling? “In my day the world was fairly well mapped, and that part of the ocean was known to be empty,” he said at last.
“In your day the Gulf of Garulon didn’t exist either,” I reminded him.
A hiss escaped him. “I lived there. You hardly need point that out.”
“I’m telling you there’s an island there, a large one. You could fit all of the Lancaster estate and most of mine as well on it,” I stated firmly. “It has been there since long before the war with Balinthor or the creation of the Gulf.”