42. WANE & THE MOON

  I looked back at the mages gathered before me. They smiled to each other as they watched young Percy take off on his mission for rare matter. Upon catching my eyes, the smiles on the faces of the mages vanished. I wore a serious look.

  Ehren sat before me, looking down at the dirt, and I could just see the scar on his cheek. Perhaps now was the time for a story I'd first heard told when I was a fairly new mage. I looked at the mages for a moment, then began.

  "During the Golden Age of the Way, hundreds of years ago, there was once a young would-be mage named Wane," I said, recalling the first time I'd heard this story myself. "He was eager, determined, and excited to become a follower of the Way. He wanted to help others, cast spells, and do wondrous things. He came from a small village many miles away to train and study under the Keeper of the Grand Library of the Way. The Keeper was known as Teryl the Good, and she was a sought after master at the time. Teryl didn't take on just any new apprentices—as apprenticeships are typically seven years in length. So, she would choose carefully."

  I caught the eyes of Bend, Greer, Shade, and the others. They watched me carefully as I spoke.

  "Out of a pool of dozens of potentials, Wane distinguished himself by casting several spells he'd learned from the country mage in his village," I continued. I noticed Dirk and a few of his fighters come and sit down to listen to the story as well. "Teryl also tested their determination, as we have done with many of you, and Wane outlasted all the others, proving his stamina, focus, and desire to become a great mage. Ultimately, Teryl selected Wane to be her apprentice and she immediately set him to work in the library, cleaning out the stacks of books and manuscripts. Normally, in any apprenticeship, menial tasks make up the bulk of the work at first."

  "In between tasks, she began to train him, showing Wane how to cast spells, create them, and make artifacts. He grew in talent and stature fast, faster than any other mage of that era. He learned everything Teryl gave him to study, growing by leaps and bounds. She was stunned at his progress."

  "What Teryl didn't realize right away was how badly Wane wanted to learn," I continued. "Some found out later his parents had been killed by a traveling mage, and as a result, Wane had a deep hunger for revenge. So when Teryl retired each evening, Wane went to the library stacks and studied. In his first year as an apprentice, he learned every spell he could find in the library, and then he learned every spell he could find in the deep archives. Wane copied down these spells, practicing them through the night. After two years, he was more well versed in the library's secrets than most mages. After three years, he was more familiar with the library spells than Teryl herself, the very Keeper of the Grand Library. However Wane got very little sleep, his entire being focused on growing in power and learning spells and creating artifacts."

  "Initially, Teryl was so impressed, she brought Wane to court, introducing him to kings, queens, aristocrats, and nobility," I said. "Wane never failed to impress, but eventually his exhaustion started to wear on him. Teryl noticed his sunken, hollow eyes and his body began to weaken, and she told him to slow down, get some rest. But he couldn't slow down. By his fourth year of the apprenticeship he had tapped every source for spell knowledge in the Grand Library, and he started spying on other mages throughout the city."

  "The Archmage at the time was an amateur astronomer known as Simmon the Stargazer," I said, casting a simple spell that raised a field of stars in front of the watching mages, some of whom gasped audibly. "Simmon's workshop was full of telescopes, charts of the stars, and pages of speculative notes about the potential power of the heavens. Wane snuck into Simmon's workshop and read all of his notes, copied down all of his spells, and slowly became obsessed with the potential power of the moon."

  "One night, as Teryl fretted about her fourth year apprentice who had begun to fray," I cast an image of the moon into the field of stars. The mages watched with wide eyes. "She went to find Wane and found him missing from his room; nor could she find him in the library. She went to report his absence to Simmon the ArchMage, and discovered young Wane had put Simmon into a trance in his own bed. When she entered Simmon's room, Wane was attempting a spell to draw power from the moon itself."

  "Sadly, Wane far overpowered Teryl by this point, and he struck her down without even thinking," I said. "He had slipped into a deep madness by this point, and she never recovered from her injuries, dying the next day. Wane striking Teryl gave Simmon a moment to wake up and gather his senses. Sadly, he sought to knock Wane unconscious on the spot, but Wane was so weak, and exhausted in his madness, the spell killed him on the spot."

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  I stopped the story, banishing the field of stars and looked at the mages.

  "I tell you the story of Wane, before we create our own spells, as a warning," I said slowly. "Creating new spells is dangerous. This story tells us of the need for balance, the importance of sharing spells with one another, even though we may want to keep power for ourselves. That path can lead to madness."

  “Okay now, all of you stand up," I said, getting to my feet. "Let’s start by finding out if any you has created a spell before today,” I said. “Anyone? Step forward and you will help me train the others.”

  Out of the nearly fifty men and women standing before me, only ten stepped forward, including Jame.

  “Alright, good,” I said, looking at the ten mages who were already Spellcasters. “Spellcasters, you will help the others learn how to create their spell, okay?”

  They nodded. I turned to the rest of the group.

  “Many of the spells created by mages don’t work, or are defective because of lack of focus and effort,” I began. “In order to create a spell that works, and works well, you will need to take your time and concentrate. Let us begin by creating a simple spell that we will not need in the coming fight. This way we can walk through this process without having to keep the spell a secret from those around you. Let’s each think about the spell that is easiest for us. Maybe it’s the spell you have used most. For me, that would be creating water. You are going to create a new way to accomplish the same action, this way the spell isn’t one you need. Do you all understand?”

  The mages nodded.

  “Okay, get yourself a piece of matter. Anything common from the ground around you. A rock or even a handful of sand can work. Obviously, this is not the ideal way to do this, in terms of power. Only pay attention to the process for now.”

  I instructed each of them to think of a new weave combination. If they transformed a rock into water, for example, they would now come up with a way to do it that they’d never seen before, from scratch.

  Each mage created new movements, focusing on the action they desired the spell to complete. Once they worked out the sequence, they had to complete the actions once, twice, three times, then a dozen times. Practice the new spell, imprinted the movements and sequence of the spell on The Well, the source of all magic, which existed all around us.

  Once they had secured the imprinting of the spell, then they could test the spell. This took hours and hours of practice, but some learned and developed quickly. The spellcasters helped each of the mages to complete the process.

  Though it wasn’t a core focus for me in my own training, I found spell creation the most fascinating part of the Way.

  Each and every mage developed his or her own style, therefore, each spell bore some resemblance to the mage who created it. The movements of their own spells might wear similar styles, movements, or triggers. The flick of a wrist, or the nod of a head, might be common to one particular mage. Every mage had a voice in the way he or she created spells.

  Well known spellcasters from history whose beloved spells had been passed from mage to mage, grew in fame over time. Their names becoming synonymous with the spells they were known for. Ironically, this also meant that the most famous mages eventually were known for the least powerful spells.

  Some mages’ spells required dancing, while others spoke specific words, or shouted their spells into existence. Others wove their hands through the air, some bobbed their heads, or moved their bodies. The possibilities were endless for those with the talent and desire to pursue spell creation in earnest. However, most mages didn’t pursue the craft with any vigor.

  I watched as the mages practiced their spells, making mistakes, and starting over often as the spellcasters guided them each toward completion of a new spell.

  A lump grew in my throat as I watched. In all my travels over the last few decades trying to help people without avoiding the Motorized, walking the world, fighting oppression, often in secretive ways and hiding myself, I’d seen very few mages. Those mages I did find were often outcasts, living in secret, or hermits living alone in the hills. Villagers only visited those mages once they grew desperate enough for help that they had no other choice, visiting reluctantly or with great fear.

  Now I watched a small army of mages learning an ancient skill. This group of men and women had committed themselves to The Way of the Mark and would fight an enemy that sought our eradication. The forces arrayed against us were stronger, better prepared, and in a land we didn't know well. But this group of mages possessed courage, and hope.

  I took a satisfied breath. Whatever came next, this was a good day. I now had hope that there were some left who would remember and pass on The Way once I was gone.

  Before the day was done, each and every mage created at least one new spell and crossed the threshold from simple mages to genuine spellcasters.