by Chris Page
Merlin watched and understood as the dawning took place in the young boy’s dark eyes.
“It is a great honor and a relief to know that I am not mad,” Twilight said finally.
“Yes it is, but an honor that must be strictly upheld.” The old wizard waggled a long, bony finger at him. “The temptations for personal benefit are legion in this business and must be steadfastly resisted. As far as madness is concerned, we all went through that stage at first until the reason for our differences was explained. It is perfectly natural to think that you are mad when everyone else is acting and thinking completely at odds to the actions and thoughts you have. It’s only when we begin to exercise some of these embryonic talents by manipulating folk, usually very clumsily at first, that we begin to destabilize their order and get into trouble. That’s why we are doomed to live on the margins of settlements, villages, and towns, outcasts forced to live the life of a hermit. When our gifts are in their infancy and lack the discipline of teaching and control, they can be frighteningly counterproductive and sow rogue fears in the simple minds of folk. As a consequence we are often perceived as ‘odd,’ and they have no alternative other than to banish us from their midst as they would any other common madman. That is what happened to you. Your father could see no alternative. Your presence had to be sacrificed for the stability of the rest of his family and, no doubt, the entire community of your settlement. The irony is that having banished us, they then plead for us to return from time to time so that our ‘oddities’ will manifestly save them from whatever dark demons threaten them next. This also happened to you on your journey here. It wasn’t until you were both threatened by the dark wraiths of the Savernake that your father realized the strength of your gifts.”
“I am at least free now to learn, understand, and pursue my gifts. Tell me, from where does all of my knowledge come? I have never been taught to read or write nor had any guidance whatsoever. I just seem to know a great many things.”
Merlin smiled. “These are some of the givens of the veneficus. There are the simple truths, such as all the chosen are born on All Hallows Day - you may recall me asking your father your birth date. Then there are the truths based around knowledge, with which we venefici are all blessed. These are necessary implants in order to absorb the difficulty of the enchantments. Without a good base of learned information you would not be able to appreciate how all the intricacies of the powers at our command fit together. Lack of knowledge cannot be allowed to divide us, or to prevent the swift absorption of the enchantments. You also have many other gifts that you have yet to discover, including total recall of everything that is or has been said to you. This means that every answer I give or event you see remains permanently with you and is never forgotten. When my period of teaching comes to an end you will be imbued with crinkum crankum of the most spell-binding kind, jabberwocky of the finest subtlety coupled with the imagination of Plato, the wisdom of Critias, the poetry of Solon, the virtues of Charmides, and the courage of Odysseus - a great fount of bizarrerie and knowledge that will enable you to face anything this turning world hurls at you.”
“These people with the strangely hypnotic names, I do not know them. They are Gauls, Jutes, Angles, Saxons, or Celts perhaps?”
“They are ancient Greeks, one of the first great civilizations of mankind, who sought to enlarge the boundaries of the human mind through the attainment of a mental state in which the ideas of space, time, matter, and motion were proved to be contradictory and imaginary - that nothing was, or was not known, or could be spoken. The manipulation of those boundaries allows for the acceptance of the gifts bestowed upon us as venefici. It is the basis of our phenomena - what vassals call our magic, the don’t-knows our sorcery, and the naysayers our witchcraft.”
Twilight was silent for some time as he absorbed this information.
“Why are we here? What purpose do venefici serve by being on this earth?”
“The answer the Elder Pendragon gave me to that question was that I would form my own opinions over time.”
“And have you?”
“Yes.”
“You are reluctant to tell me?”
“Not reluctant, but it is a big question, possibly the biggest of all for us and one with no strict definitions - other than as the placatory advisors to the cowering mists for one day of each year. I will address that with you tomorrow. Apart from that we are free to use our gifts at will. Let me begin to answer with what we are not. We are not the automatic guardian angels to the great and the good, kings, queens, or any other leaders. You have no ties or duties to anyone or anything other than your own inclinations. The decisions you make, the gods you call upon, the alliances, religions, or causes you support, be they on the side of good or evil, fiendish or radical, imperial or heroic, are all entirely up to you. There will always be a battle between virtue and wisdom on the one side, and evil and folly on the other. It is the way of humankind. You can even choose to forsake the enchantments and live a normal life if you wish, but once you begin to understand the great powers you have, that is very difficult. That is what the Elder Pendragon meant, and I would answer you in the same way. We all have a different view on matters and must act as our conscience dictates. For instance, he told me that the Pale Sybil, a venefica of great understanding and compassion, considered her position and purpose should reflect that of a goddess, someone of the very highest status whose gifts were that of a divine being placed on this earth. Indeed, some of our abilities are powerful enough to encourage that belief. She considered her rightful tomb to be on Mount Olympus - haven of the Greek deity - alongside that of the immortal goddess Thetis, who was honored for her glistening feet. This was considered the highest and most omnipotent presidium from which the immortals could look down upon the passing centuries with a sort of condescending eye. However, for all her grandeur, the Pale Sybil carried out her duties as venefica with considerable success and created a great deal of harmony during the early, turbulent occupation of our lands by Caesar’s Roman legions. In time you will learn more of her and other outstanding feats. You will also learn a great deal about the ancient Greeks, for I am an avid student of their ways.”
“Where did the Pale Sybil live?”
“As befitted her self-status, in a rather grand castle on the Western edge of our region of Wessex,” the long magus said almost apologetically.
“But I thought you said we were outcasts? A castle doesn’t sound like the sort of home for an outcast.”
Merlin sighed. “I agree, but the Pale Sybil didn’t see it that way and exercised her own right of choice. As I’ve said, she considered her rightful place to be among the Olympian immortals, and being a vainglorious woman with great powers was able to indulge in her own earthly deification. The only consolation is that apart from an old female hell hag of a retainer called Santa, she lived alone in the castle until Idris the Former came to sit at her feet.”
“And Idris and your teacher, the Elder Pendragon, what status did they give themselves?”
The boy’s dark eyes glowed with the wonder that he was part of such an august lineage.
“Idris was the son of a Celtic thane and not given to any flights of great fancy. He accepted his gifts as tools for the betterment of mankind and traveled among them, mostly in ragged beggary, doing all he could for the poor and the downtrodden. He never settled anywhere until he began to pass on the enchantments in later age to the Elder Pendragon. Then he took up residence in what had been his father’s house in Caerleon and stayed there until his one hundred years were up. As for my mentor and teacher, the Elder Pendragon himself, he was born a royal king. His father was Uther Pendragon, a name that means ‘Head Dragon,’ and he was the spiritual leader and outright ruler of the Welsh tribes. Recognizing his gifts rather late, in mid-life, the Elder Pendragon did not take up his rightful place as king when his father died in battle, but instead took his wife and two small sons t
o Caerleon to sit at the feet of Idris. His reasoning was that he could accomplish far more for his people as a veneficus than he ever could leading them into one battle after another as the regional warlords of Prydein, Mercia, Deira, and Wessex fought for supremacy. Leaderless for twenty years while the Elder Pendragon learned and honed his venefical enchantments, the kingdom of Wales was soon torn apart by tyranny and the imperial evils of claimed succession that, paradoxically, the Elder Pendragon could never subdue with his learned enchantments. There are lessons to be learned there. In the end, the reclamation of the kingdom for the house of Pendragon passed through his two sons and fell to his grandson.”
“Who was that?” said Twilight, sensing something special.
The old wizard’s emerald eyes flashed a particular image of a tall, strong young man wearing a breastplate, a glinting raised sword in his left hand and a shield in his right.
“Arthur Pendragon. He who became the mighty King Arthur. The head of the court of Camelot, rightful holder of Excalibur, the mighty sword of freedom, the leader of the Grail Knights, founder of the Round Table, husband of Guinevere and defender of the lands of the Celts, and one to whom I pledged my total support as counselor. Only to later realize that I had been well and truly mistaken.”
The old wizard fell silent as his bright eyes filled with sadness and swam with distant memories. Then he spoke again in a quiet voice.
“I did not learn well enough the lesson of the Elder Pendragon’s futile attempts to subdue internecine warfare through the use of enchantments. War is a floodplain that ebbs and flows with a constancy that will never allow it to dry up. The desire to conquer and dominate others is an infamy engraved upon the soul of all races. As fast as one quarrel is settled, another springs up and ten others are being plotted. Wars will always date history for humans, the great battles echoing down the bardic pages of time until mankind finally extinguishes himself. Peace is, and always will be, merely a name. That is why our powers are imperfect and incomplete because we cannot stop man’s will to dominate other men. Only the universal ownership of the absolute truth will ever stop warfare, and that, I fear, is an impossibility.”
I feel your pain. Twilight intruded gently into Merlin’s mind after a long silence. It becomes my pain as well.
Do not take on my pain. You will soon have enough of your own to manage.
You spoke last night of a people called ‘cowerers.’ I sense more pain there. Is it the time for us to speak of them?
Not yet, but you are right about the pain - it accompanies them everywhere. When the season of the equinoctial mist comes, we will do more than speak of the cowerers. We must go among them.
Must?
Oh yes, that is the only matter about which we have no choice, absolutely no choice at all.
Why?
Because the survival of our species could depend upon it. Indeed, it could also provide the ultimate answer to your earlier question as to why we are here. Only venefici can confer with the cowerers.
When will I have to assume that responsibility?
In seven years’ time when you take it over from me.
Is it a big responsibility?
Only if you allow it to become so. Part of my job is to teach you otherwise.
“Let us take a walk through the forest,” said the old wizard, standing up. “See if we can find that festering old deviant Bovey and his false dragon. I’ve a mind to have a little sport with the old fool.”
“I thought you said the temptations for personal benefit must be resisted,” said the former Will Timms, impishly skipping along beside him.
“You learn too well, skirmisher,” Merlin said in a mock grumble. “But don’t forget what the ancient Greeks said.”
“What, how the ideas of space, time, matter, and motion were proved to be contradictory and imaginary, and that nothing was, or was known, or could be spoken?” Twilight had screwed his eyes shut as he recalled Merlin’s words. “Surely you’re not using that as the basis for a little personal sport?”
“Oh, yes I am,” said the old wizard with the twinkle back in his eye. “What’s the point of being a master sorcerer if I can’t indulge in a little selfish manipulation of matter?”
As they started to stroll gently along the Savernake’s perimeter, the old wizard stopped, called Twilight closer, and gently touched both sides of his forehead.
“For the next few days you will see everything as black or white. Nothing will be gray or colored. This will teach you to decipher complicated situations by filtering out the many incidentals and images that will seek to obscure the fundamental truths. By removing the shades and colors we can strip a matter down to its barest bones and uncover its carefully encoded secrets. It is a useful facility, especially when your wise counsel has been requested to rule on a complicated issue involving many diverse people and opinions, all of whom will swear an oath that they are telling the rigid truth and that theirs is the just cause.”
Twilight blinked, looked around, and then smiled. “Is everything black in the darkfall of night? If so, will I be unable to see anything?”
“Only if it is a genuine darkfall brought on by the onset of genuine night. If it isn’t genuine it will show as shades of gray, depending upon the depth of the deception. That is how you distinguish dewfall from false dawn, rising phoenix from ghoulish specter, infidel from friend.”
A small falcon swooped from the sky and landed on a bough close to Merlin’s head. Stretching one barbed talon purposefully in his direction, it fluffed up its yellow neck-feathers, lifted its small, beautifully formed head until its bright, filmic yellow eyes appeared to be looking down its sharp, curved beak, and uttered a single piercing shriek. Out went the barbed talon again; then with a barely audible wing-beat it was gone, a yellow and brown blur against the forest backdrop before the briefest of wing movements took it into a steep climb above the tree-line, and it was out of sight.
Merlin looked at Twilight and raised his great bushy eyebrows. “And what did you make of that, my little skirmisher, eh?”
Twilight thought for a moment. “The words that come to mind are ‘homage,’ ‘rank,’ and ‘message,’” he said reflectively.
“Continue.” The long magus nodded.
“The talon outstretched toward you was some sort of homage, a greeting, repeated again when it departed. The fluffed-up plumage some sort of badge of rank, and the shriek was a message to you. I have seen these small hawks before, but only at a distance, for they are very fast in flight and secretive in manner. The plumage is of a golden color matched by the eyes.”
“Good, very good,” said the old wizard, pleased at his pupil’s obvious awareness. “You are correct about the message, for that was Phi, a full-grown male Merlin falcon. Phi is the alpha male or head Merlin hawk around these parts. All the Merlins in Wessex are in ligamen to me as their namesake …”
“In ligamen … that is Latin?” interrupted Twilight.
“It means ‘allegiance.’ I am their liege-lord. The outstretched talon is the equivalent of a bow or salutation.”
Twilight’s luminous dark eyes opened wide at the wonder of such a thing.
“How many of them are there in Wessex?” he asked breathlessly.
“One hundred and forty-five free pairs and fifty in captivity. This bird is greatly prized by falconers for its speed and ability to catch small game.”
“Why don’t you release the fifty in captivity?”
“Because they do not want to be released. They can release themselves every day if they wish. They are flown freely. No falconer would keep, could keep, a Merlin against its will. They are happy living that way.”
“But if you needed them?”
“They would come immediately with a pair always close by in case of an emergency.”
Twilight went quiet for a moment. He hardly dared ask the question th
at was burning in his mind. “Do I have any creatures in ligamen to me?”
“Yesterday, when we met for the first time, I told you there was another reason for calling you Twilight and that ad tem-pus - when the time was right - all would be revealed.”
“Yes, yes,” cried the boy excitedly.
“Well, the time isn’t right just yet,” the old wizard said flatly, walking on, leaving the boy crestfallen and looking at the ground near to tears. “And patience, my dear Twilight, is a prime virtue that a veneficus must learn to accommodate, especially when you have eighty-seven years left in which to bring your enchantments to bear on the situations around you. Always remember that time is your greatest companion. Given enough time almost anyone can accomplish almost anything. Understanding that is another simple fact that differentiates us from ordinary folk. Don’t rush anything. Consider every move very carefully, for not only is almost everything possible given the time, the consequences of getting it wrong can be catastrophic. Always take the time to think things through. The longer you ponder a problem, the less chance there is of getting it wrong.”
He stopped and turned back to face the boy, who was sullenly scuffing the dead leaves with his foot. For all his embryonic gifts he was still only thirteen years old, a mere child imbued with all the mannerisms and temperamental immaturity of a stripling.
“But the time of your knowing what species are in ligamen to you will be soon, very soon,” Merlin called back softly.
“How soon?” The boy’s head came up expectantly.
“Oh, a day or two perhaps. Now back to Phi.”
The boy skipped up to the tall wizard’s side.
“Plumage,” he said, all disappointment instantly forgotten.
“As I said, Phi is the alpha male, the leader of the pack, and being, like all falcons, a vainglorious old tar bill, he constantly needs to demonstrate the importance of that fact to all and sundry, especially me. It’s his way of saying, ‘Look at me, I’m still the finest Merlin falcon in the land, and don’t you or anyone else forget it.’”
