A Bitter Brew

by Greg Curtis

  “That's –.”

  “The sad truth. But even before the end Altanis was a horror. An underworld such as the most creative of bards could never imagine.”

  As for your dream of rebuilding Altanis, that dies. It has to die. Altanis can never be rebuilt. Not as it was. And neither would you want it to be. You can gain a certain amount of respect by forming a guild of magic as Hendrick suggests. By providing magical services for a fee. I will support my son in that. And though it is not your dream, it is a start. Your dream however, would end up a terror in the night.”

  “You find it hard to see past the pain in your life. Hard to understand that even if you only want a certain dignity, others will want more. You see the suffering of the afflicted and wish it to end. You imagine the ancient wizards as great and glorious. People who should never have to suffer.”

  “What you do not see is that as great and glorious as the ancient wizards may have been, they were mortal. They suffered from all the same failings as the rest of us. And the most terrible failing anyone can know is the hunger for power.”

  “You will understand that when you read the book.”

  “And what will I understand?” Marnie was in no mood for riddles.

  “That Malthas was a terrible realm. A place where people such as you and I would not survive. And the city of Altanis was a terrible place even before the Great Wars were fought. The Great Wizards you dream of, were monsters. They tortured and killed each other – all in the name of their magic. They fought like barbarians. They enslaved those without magic – because they could. And they stole the magic from those who had it if they weren't strong enough to keep it. They would happily slaughter a million innocent souls if it would gain them even one more spell. They had no conscience. They did anything they could in their quest for power. Altanis was not the glorious city you dream of. It was a neutral zone where the wizards could meet in safety. Make bargains with their enemies. It was merely a place of truce in a never ending war.”

  “It's all there in that book. Read it. Show it to my son too. He will understand the danger. He is wise beyond his years.”

  “But there's more you need to know.” Lady Peri paused for a moment, as if doubting that she wanted to say what she intended to. But then she carried on.

  “The magic metals. The things you call magic – and I suppose in a way they are – aren't what you think. They're more than that. They are pieces of the souls of the seven most powerful wizards of Altanis.”

  “What?” Marnie was shocked. More than that though, she didn't believe it. But she caught herself before she said something foolish in the home of the King's fifth wife.

  “It's all there. It is is a detailed history of the fall of Malthas.”

  “In Malthas magic flowed freely. It wasn't bound up in metals but learned. Wizards were scholars. They studied magic as we study science. Magic was as one with nature. It was in the very air people breathed. The wizards found ways to use it, control it, and most unfortunately, some of them found a way to possess it.”

  “They built great magical engines that drew it from the world as we draw water from the ground. And they bound it to themselves. What had once been free, was no longer. In the end it was that that destroyed their world.”

  “Because when they did that there were consequences. The first and perhaps saddest was that the more they took for themselves the less that was available for creatures who depended on magic to survive. Without magic in the world the unicorns and the griffins, the rocs and dragons, and so many others, perished from the world.”

  “The secret, magical places of the world. Glades where the fairies danced and sang. Great forests where the wondrous beasts ran free. Mountain ranges where the rainbows kissed the land and the phoenix greeted each new dawn. All were lost too.”

  “The same was true of people. Before the engines were created there were once many races. Tall and short, dark and light, winged and wingless, furry and bald. All the peoples that the bards sing of did indeed exist. But after the engines were built, there was only one people left in the world. Those who had no magic in the first place and therefore could survive without it. We are the descendants of those survivors. Humans.”

  “Hundreds of millions of people of all races perished. And the world was left the poorer for their loss. Many lands died. But there was a worse fate for the wizards of Altanis. Over time the numbers of wizards plummeted as they killed each other off. The most knowledgeable and powerful – the ones with the greatest machines – stole the magic from the others. They went to war with one another. And ultimately they lost everything.”

  “In the end there were only seven survivors from those first battles. And between them they contained all the magic in the world. They were like gods.”

  “But as anyone who has ever sought power knows, there is no 'like'. There is never 'enough'. The last seven wizards did not want to be 'like gods'. They wanted to be gods. And they decided that the reason they had not become gods even with all the magic they had, was because they still needed more. And there was only one place any of them could gain more magic by then – from one another.”

  “So the last seven kept fighting. Each made a city his or her home. Each raised armies to die for them. And each levelled the cities of the others, one after another. By the end not a single ancient city still stood. The survivors – those few there were – fled to the most distant forests and wildlands. Places far from the warring wizards. And they hid, praying that it would all end.”

  “In the end all seven wizards died. And when they died, all that magic that they had stolen was released in great explosions. It became the magic metals that you find today.”

  “You want to know why each spell you absorb marks you? The markings are the tainted souls of those seven wizards. And when you die and the markings disappear? It's because the magic returns to the souls it is bound to. The souls of the long dead wizards. It was never yours. You only borrow it while you live.”

  “The reason that you can all only be gifted or afflicted with one magic metal, is that before they died they were parts of the last seven wizards who were busy killing one another. They hated one another and the metals from their souls do likewise.”

  “And the reason that each metal seems to have a single type of magic, is that the wizards themselves only had a single type of magic. The great machines themselves each only drew a single type of magic.”

  “For fifteen hundred years, ever since this realm was born from the ashes of Malthas, the rulers of Styrion have kept this history hidden. Books have been burnt. Myths have been made up to replace the truths. Scholars have been locked away. Ruins have been destroyed. It can never be known.”

  “What you hold in your hand is one of only a handful of books left in the world that detail the true history of the fall of Malthas. The original was written by the sages who hid as the world was destroyed all around them. It has been translated by scholars long since gone from this world, into Enstyr, and since then transcribed century after century, word for word, as the originals perish from age. All of this has been done by scribes who have subsequently been locked away for the rest of their lives for fear that they would reveal what they have read. It is priceless. And I am trusting you to read it, to say nothing of what you have read, and then to pass it on to Hendrick so that he may do the same and then return the book to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the book details two things. First, it tells where the great magic engines were located and a little of how they worked. That they not only stole the magic from the world around them, but they stored it too. Vast amounts of it. And it reveals that there is a way that they may be set to run backwards. That the binding of the magic can be undone. If that happens, all the magic that was bound by them and which is now contained within the metals will be released. At once. That would be catastrophic.”

  “When the seven ancient wizards died and released just the magic that was contained within th
em at the moment of their death, the explosions were immense. Far greater than any that had ever been known before. Far more powerful than any mere volcano erupting. It wasn't just cities that were levelled. So too were entire mountain ranges. The regions of the world which we now call the northern and southern wastes, were completely destroyed. Styrion, only because it was far enough away from the wizards, survived. But we think that what is contained in the magical engines is actually greater than what was contained in the wizards. Styrion will be destroyed as Malthas was before it. It is likely that the world, still not fully recovered from the first disaster, would end.”

  “But even if this world survives, your people won't. All the afflicted will lose the magic they hold. Because the magic you have, is still contained within the souls of the dead wizards.”

  “For a brief time, a heartbeat, the afflicted may become as everyone else. Free of their affliction. But then you'll die. The release of the magic will almost certainly kill you all as every spell you have bursts free from you. We cannot know that for certain of course. The sages who wrote the book could not say. We do know that many of the afflicted will want to take the chance to be free, regardless of the danger. They will see hope. A chance however small, that they will survive the loss of their magic and their markings. And they will leap for it, even if it destroys Styrion. Even if it kills them. This is the first reason why we have hidden this knowledge.”

  “The second reason is that the book contains details of how the great engines were made. If that knowledge is rediscovered, then in time the cycle will start again when the magic is returned to the world as it once was. And so if the world survives the first catastrophe, the entire cycle will begin again. But that's a worry for the survivors. For us it means that it's not only the afflicted that we have to worry about wanting to release the magic. It's the scholars. Remember the first wizards were scholars. They learned how to steal their magic. If the knowledge contained within this book escapes it will also be the scholars who will endanger us all. Some will want to release the magic simply so they can then build new machines and steal it for themselves. They cannot learn of this lost history either.”

  “You should also know that we have taken harsh measures to ensure that this knowledge does not escape. That no one will ever turn those great engines into reverse. And one of the harshest things we did was to create the lie that those who had magic were afflicted. That magic was a disease. A rot of the soul.”

  “What?!” For a moment Marnie couldn't believe that Lady Peri had said that. And then deep down inside her, anger began to burn.

  “I’m sorry Marnie. It was done because the early Kings believed that those who posed the greatest threat were those with magic. Some of the spells they had might enable them to discover the truth. Other spells might enable them to access the engines no matter how deeply buried in the wastes they were. And those who had the most spells to call on would be the most dangerous. They had to be stopped.”

  “In the centuries between the destruction of Malthas and the birth of Styrion, there were some who were actively acquiring spells. Trying to grow in power as the wizards before them had. They had to be killed. Hunted down and killed before they began their climb to power. And many of them became dangerous. The lie stopped that.”

  “Because of that lie most of those who were afflicted only picked up one or two spells. They acquired them at random and by accident. And fewer and fewer became dangerous. And at the same time the chances that any one of the afflicted would have all the spells needed to reach the engines were small. Because of the lie, most people who found any of the magic metals stayed well away from them. Had magic been considered a blessing, many of the afflicted would have sought out more spells and the chances of one or more of them acquiring all the spells needed to find one of the engines grew. That had to be prevented.”

  “Unfortunately my son has just set in motion a plan to encourage a great many of the afflicted to do exactly what was feared would happen all those hundreds of years ago. Even more unfortunately, it may be the only way to fight this behemoth. In nearly fifteen hundred years of hiding this secret, no one ever considered that such a nightmare could befall us. Now we find ourselves caught in a trap between two opposing dooms. The behemoth and the magical engines. Which will destroy us most completely? And which will do it soonest?” She shook her head slowly. “It is a dragon's choice. Who would want to have to make such a decision?”

  But as self-pitying as the Lady was about the demons she faced, Marnie was wrestling with her own demons, and the greatest of them was anger.

  The early Kings had created this lie about magic being a disease that had destroyed her life and the lives of countless others? And then subsequent Kings had let that belief continue for a thousand or fifteen hundred years?! Marnie understood the reason for it. And she understood that the original decision had been made over a thousand years before. But she still felt an overwhelming hatred thrumming through her veins. Hatred for what had happened. For the nobility. And for Lady Peri. Even though she knew that none of them had started it. Not even the woman sitting in front of her.

  It took time and will to master her rage and put it aside. Because she knew she had to. Killing this woman would not help. Injuring her wouldn't either. And she had people depending on her. They needing her to be their leader. She couldn’t afford to act rashly. But she knew even as she forced her anger down that it had not gone for good. Every time she thought of all the pain in her life, she knew it would return.

  Eventually she managed to return to their conversation. Even to think about the problem Lady Peri had set out logically. “Then destroy the books.” It was the obvious solution Marnie thought.

  “And risk that at some point someone will find these machines by accident, learn how to use them, and then we will have no way of stopping them? Or that there might be other books out there to be found? These books are a curse and a blessing both. They are a curse because we can never let them be read by those who might use the knowledge, and so ultimately destroy us. And they are a blessing because if someone does find the machines and uses them, they will show us how to stop them. Thus they might save us. We are trapped between those two possibilities.”

  “Then destroy the magic engines.”

  “Only those with magic can reach them. They are located in the wastes to the north and south. Far beyond the boundaries of what is now called Styrion. For all that we think Styrion is large, it is only a fraction the size of the realm Malthas once was. And the largest part of what was Malthas is now uninhabitable. Filled with deadly creatures, poisonous gasses, unstable land, impenetrable forests and impassable swamps. The last of the magical creatures left in the world may also reside there. If they do then they are likely to be the strongest and most dangerous ones. Armies would be decimated trying to reach them. Those without magic cannot travel safely through the wastelands and so cannot reach the great engines. But those with magic who can reach them are those who we fear might try to use them. And even then, destroying the great engines might release all the bound magic anyway. We cannot know.”

  “It is a riddle such as the Goat Footed God himself would have created with pride. Every action we can take is deadly and now even standing still is dangerous.”

  “So why tell me?” Marnie decided to ask the only question that really mattered.

  “Because of what my son has begun and what you wish to do with it. What my son wants to do, is dangerous. But so is the behemoth, and with his plan we find ourselves walking upon a knife edge with death on both sides. But what you want to do pushes us over. It must never happen. Wizards can never be allowed to walk the world as they once did. Because even if your reborn magic city defeated the great beast, and the wizards avoided the temptation of setting the great engines in reverse, the world would once more become a dark and terrible place.”

  “For the moment though the immediate danger is that the magical engines will be found and put into reverse, and Sty
rion will be destroyed. The only ones with the motivation to do that are the afflicted.”

  “No!” Marnie tried to deny the Lady her belief. But she didn't even believe her own denial.

  “Tell me Marnie: how many of those you regard as your fellow afflicted would jump at the chance to be freed of their affliction? The chance to walk as normal people? Even if it might kill them? As long as there is a chance, no matter how small and no matter the danger, some will risk it. And now, thanks to what my son has started, many more will have the power to take that chance.”

  “How many others, if magic becomes accepted and they gain the right spells, will try to use it to their advantage at the expense of others? How many innocents like your own family, would die?”

  Marnie didn't answer her because she couldn't. She knew the Lady was right. Some of their people were angry and filled with hate for what had befallen them. Others would no doubt be greedy or even perhaps, evil. In the end, afflicted or not, they were people.

  “Your people can never know of this and you must make sure they do not find out. And since you now know that there is a danger to your people, your family and yourself, the chances are small that you will choose to release the magic yourself or release the knowledge.”