‘It’s freezing here.’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll learn to deal with that in time.’
Caleb took the satchel from his shoulder and put it on the floor. He took out a thick, leather-bound tome and placed in on the floor between them. Strange markings were etched on the cover.
‘This, Seb, is the Fundamentals of Arcana, what you would call the prime learning source for all magi.’
Seb took the book. It felt heavy in his hands. He ran his forefinger across the dark wording.
‘What is this, Latin?’
‘No. This particular tome is written in Runic Script, what you would call the language of the Weave.’
‘The structure of reality has its own language?’
‘No. Well, sort of. The nature of the Weave is pure energy. In its base structure it is formless. Danu and Balor were able to manipulate the Weave directly, such was their natural affinity. However, in order to make it easier to teach, and to be able to document its use for future generations, they created a language that enables the mage to harness the Weave in a structured way, without having to connect directly to its natural form.’
‘Can they do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Connect directly to the Weave?’
Caleb frowned. ‘Technically, yes. But it is forbidden under our rules. Even if a mage could, and I doubt it is even possible on this Shard, the results can be…dangerous.’
‘What would happen?’
‘Madness. Death. Destruction. Take your pick. It’s not an option in any case so let us leave it there. Understood?’
Seb nodded. Caleb didn’t invite negotiation on this one.
‘Now, you’ll need to bear with me on this. Normally the path to Weave-mastery takes six years. Two for each discipline. As of this morning I am under orders to fast track this. I’m told we can skip Novo, as you only need to unlock that block in your head. Still,’ Caleb stopped as he rubbed one hand against his stubble, ‘It will be a challenge. I might have to improvise along the way.’
‘What is Novo?’
‘I’m getting ahead of myself already,’ Caleb said, shaking his head. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve had to do any teaching.’
Caleb ran weathered hands down the front of his legs. He muttered to himself for a moment before clapping his hands together, a triumphant smile on his face.
‘Right. The basics. You know the history of our kind.’
‘The abridged version.’
‘Quite. There’ll be plenty of time to learn more. For now though, we focus on the fundamentals. On being a mage. On the Weave itself.
‘Do you know what the Weave is, Seb?’
‘Sort of. They mentioned it on my first night but my head was a mess. It’s some kind of energy that everything’s made from, yes?’
‘Let’s look at that then shall we. What is everything made from, Seb? When you look out of the window, what do you see?’
Seb looked. ‘Trees. Grass. Green stuff.’
‘So poetic. And what’s that made from?’
‘Atoms?’
‘And what are they made from?’
He knew this; at least he thought he did. He’d accidentally picked up a copy of Focus magazine once due to a rather attention-grabbing cover of a nuclear blast. Morbid curiosity had drawn him in. The article was about splitting an atom, the stuff that comes out. Protons and neutrons and other crap. He couldn’t remember though, and the days he’d actually made it to science at school were lost in a haze of piss-taking and practical jokes.
‘Anything?’ Caleb said.
‘I’ll go for protons, but that’s as far as I go.’
Caleb grunted. ‘Okay. This is the critical bit. Beyond protons, beyond quarks and neutrinos and all the other crap that humans make up to explain the world they see, there’s an underlying force, an energy that makes all reality possible.’
Seb smiled. ‘Okay, Obi Wan.’
‘Cut the shit, kid, you need to know this.’
Seb slumped, his cheeks aflame.
‘This energy, what we call the Weave, is formless. It has no context. It can’t be touched, seen, handled in any way. That is, without an Observer.’
‘Huh?’
‘It’s our minds that make our world, Seb. Without the mind of a conscious observer, the universe would be formless, without structure.’
‘Okay, now I’m losing it.’
‘It’s hard to grasp at first I know, but soon you will see that it makes perfect sense. Deep down you already know it, that’s why you’re Latent, but it will come, have faith in that.’
Seb felt the frown that creased his head, his tongue sticking out from one side as he considered the concept. It wasn’t a good look, he’d been told that in the past. Caleb seemed to notice it, a look that was a mix of puzzlement and amusement on his face. He shook his head and tried a different tact:
‘Imagine that you’re in a room that’s entirely without light. Can you do that?’
‘I think I can stretch that far.’
‘Good. Now, this darkness is the Weave without Observers. It is there, but there is nothing. Got that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now, imagine that when you see, when you observe, that your mind, working with all of your senses, acts as a kind of flashlight, illuminating the reality that’s before you, except, and this is the crucial bit, you’re not seeing something that was already there, just hidden, you’re actually forming the reality from this energy by the very act of observing it.’
They sat in silence, Seb mulling over the concept. It was a head-fuck definitely, but something in his gut couldn’t dismiss it. He wasn’t a science geek, he had no real knowledge of physics, chemistry or anything that would maybe help him understand better, but something in his mind latched onto the view of the world that Caleb had painted, as if it could be true, he just needed to accept it.
‘Ok, say I get this image that basically the world only exists because we observe it, what happens if there’s no one around? Does everything just fall into nothingness again?’
‘Good question, and although the answer to that, truly, is that we don’t know, we do have theories, based on our own studies of the Weave.
‘Like clay, when it’s been formed into its required form by the potter, we believe that reality, the Weave, maintains the form it was constructed in when last observed, or at the very least remembers it in some form, able to reconstruct it at will when next required.’
‘Wow, now that’s a proper head-melter. But, it doesn’t make sense? How can everyone think the same thing? How do we all see the same tree? Hear the same noises? We all share in the same experiences. Surely that can’t be coincidence?’
Caleb laughed at that, the noise like gravel on gravel.
‘You’re latching on quick. It took me years to get all the questions out of my system.’
‘I like the idea. It makes sense in a twisted sort of way. Not that I’m an expert obviously. But still, how do we all see the same thing?’
‘I’ll explain this one as best I can. It’s a key one too, as your knowledge of this will affect your relationship with the Weave as you progress.
‘As consciousness evolved with humans, so did their perceived knowledge of the world around them. As they understood more, they sought to understand even further. What this meant was that the reality formed by the Weave hardened, as if cemented by the continual layers of observers contributing to it. As this knowledge progressed, science, as they call it, the veneer of the Weave became deeper. By sheer conscious thought, the atom came into being, the proton. The quark. As the Consensus grew in power, so did the realness of reality. The end result, this world we see around us, is a result of this effect. That reality, as agreed by the subconscious and conscious minds that formed it, is known as the Consensus.’
Seb sat in silence, letting the words wash through him. Observers. The Weave. The Consensus. A reality born of perceptions. It sounded too much like sci
ence fiction, but that thing, that unshakeable knowing that he was a part of this other world, clung onto him for dear life. He didn’t challenge the idea. He didn’t accept it either. Yet. There was more to be learned, his curiosity peaking at the potential possibilities that loomed ahead. Caleb continued:
‘So, going back to the analogy of the flashlight? Where the reality only forms when the flashlight is being shined upon it?’
Seb nodded. ‘The tree falls in the forest thing.’
‘Correct. That’s the crux of what the magi are about. Over many centuries, long before there was even life you would call intelligent on this realm, they have studied the Weave. Learned its many nuances. Documented it. Over time, they have learned to master it.’
‘Who made it?’
‘What?’
‘The Weave. Where did it come from?’
‘You do go for the big questions, don’t you?’ Caleb closed the book, keeping the page with one finger.
‘It’s an obvious one.’
‘Perhaps. But it is one that you would be best asking when you are more versed in our ways. For now, the Weave was created from the Forge, which is the source of all creation. The full answer is much more complicated than that, but for now, accept this as your answer.
A mage, in the purest sense, is a Latent who has mastered the ways of the Weave to such a degree that they can bend it, and hence reality, to their own will.’
‘That’s what I am. Was. A Latent. This is someone who is aware of the Weave?’
‘Sort of. There are those who are simply Aware. They have no knowledge of it, but they find themselves more in tune with their surroundings. They know, on some instinctive level, that there is more to what they see, that reality is more than just what they see, hear and feel.’
Seb flexed his legs out and shifted into a different position. ‘So, I’m guessing a Latent is one that is Aware, but also has the potential to become a mage?’
‘Yes, but there is a big, big leap between the two. About one person in a million is Aware in any given generation. Of that, only one percent are what we would consider Latent.’
Seb thought on that for a moment. ‘So, assuming six billion people in the world, gives us about six thousand Aware. That gives about sixty per generation?’ He blew out. ‘That’s rare.’
‘It’s rarer still when you consider the Magistry’s policy on Latents.’
The tone of Caleb’s voice had changed into something dourer.
‘How so?’
‘They. We. Are an elite group. They were formed of the finest, most noble families in all the Aura. They believed in the purity of the blood line. Latents were born into them, their integrity preserved.’
‘So what about those that weren’t born into this privileged life? I’m fairly sure I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.’ Seb spoke the words as a joke, but he couldn’t help but notice the bitterness that slipped out with them.
‘Most are ignored. They drift through life Aware, yet unaware of their potential. Without tuition or guidance they are unable to access the Weave.’
‘Most?’
Caleb shuffled and scratched his beard. ‘There are some who, for whatever reason, find a way to access the Weave anyway. How or why we don’t understand. Without guidance they are overwhelmed. Many go mad, unable to deal with the knowledge they suddenly possess. Some become possessed by sheol, and hence targets for the Brotherhood. The very rare ones who come through this are often scarred, dangerous individuals. They are known by the Magistry as apostates, and are hunted down without mercy.’
‘What kind of messed up operation is that?’ Seb said, an unexpected anger filling his belly. ‘They ignore these people. People who could help them, who could benefit from their knowledge. Yet when they become corrupted by this knowledge, they kill them? Is that I’m hearing?’
‘I’m sorry, kid. I have answers. I didn’t say you would like them.’
The sorrow in Caleb’s expression dampened the growing heat in his gut. He let out a deep, shaking breath, surprised at his own anger.
‘So, what would have happened to me? Most likely ignorant? Walking from place to place, drawn by an instinct I didn’t understand. Perhaps even learning more about myself, only to be killed by the likes of Cade?’
Caleb gave a rueful smile.
‘Wow. I feel so good right now.’
‘Shall we call it a day for today? It’s been a heavy conversation, and there’s a lot to take in.’
Seb waved a hand. ‘No, I’m fine. Really. We’ve digressed I know. There’s just so much that I want to know. It feels like there’s this wall in my head. I don’t mean that thing that Sarah put in me, I mean there’s this whole world that I’m part of. This whole world that I’ve been looking for all my life, without even knowing it. Now I’ve got hold of it I don’t intend to let go. Screw what the Magistry think. No offense.’
Caleb laughed and put the book down. ‘None taken. Okay. Let us end with an overview of what your training will entail. It’s what I started with before we went off topic.
‘There are three schools of magic that are taught within the Magistry. Each level succeeds the last, and represents a user’s growing Mastery of the Weave. You will be learning two of these schools. With me so far?’
‘On FM.’
‘The first school is called Sentio. The Perception. This focuses on the ability to connect to the Weave. To sense out, detecting life of all types. At a basic level you can merely detect life nearby. At advanced levels you can read people’s minds, plucking their thoughts from their brains. You can sense all creatures, anything that participates in the Consensus.’
‘Consensus?’
‘Like I said earlier. The Consensus is the result of the collective will of all Observers. It is unique to this realm, created by the First under Danu’s instruction to protect the shard from corruption by magic. It is this that limits how overt a mage’s actions can be. At night, in front of children, animals or the ill or insane, the Consensus is weak, and our powers are strong. The more Observers there are, the harder reality pushes back against us.’
Seb nodded. It made sense, and explained why magi weren’t running round being caught on Sky News turning people into frogs or levitating skyscrapers. Then a question occurred to him.
‘The possessed?’
‘Yes?’
‘I saw them. They are obviously not human. The sheol are the possessed, correct?’
Caleb nodded, his brow furrowed, listening.
‘I saw them. I saw them change. I saw those black eyes, those talons. I saw an old woman suddenly morph into one, right in front of me. How?’
‘For a start, you’re Aware. The Consensus doesn’t apply to the Aware, so reality changing effects can be achieved quite easily.’
‘Okay. Makes sense. And the sheol themselves, how do they do that? How do they possess people?’
‘You’re full of questions aren’t you?’ Caleb said.
‘Surely you’re not surprised. We’ll be here all night with all the questions I have.’
Caleb smiled. ‘Well, I’m not as young as I used to be, let’s draw a line a tea time.’
Seb laughed. ‘Sorry. There’s just so much I want to know.’
‘And you will learn. Trust me, you’re not going anywhere. Tomorrow I will fill in the missing blanks regarding the sheol, and the Brotherhood.’
‘The Brotherhood and the sheol? They’re related?’
‘Very much so. They’re almost other sides of the same coin,’ Caleb said. ‘But,’ he continued, silencing Seb before he had chance to interrupt, ‘That definitely is tomorrow’s lesson.
‘Now. The second school, which you will learn following Sentio, is called Avatari. The Self. This school expands upon the Sentio, and is the first time you will actually tap into the Weave and bend it to your will. This school focuses on your avatar, the vessel for your connection. With it you will enhance your own abilities. Speed, strength, senses are the obv
ious ones. It also covers defence. With this you learn to maintain the shields that prevent your aura being broadcast to any Aware in a thousand miles.’
Seb nodded to himself. ‘Sentio. Sense. Avatari. Self. Got it.’ He looked back up. ‘You said there were three schools?’
‘Novo. The change. This is the most difficult and most powerful school. With it you can affect the Weave around you, hence changing the reality of others.’
Caleb slid the book across the floor to him.
‘Take that. That will be your bible from now on. When you’re not training, or working for me, I expect you to be eyes down in there. As well as our history it will teach you the fundamentals of the Weave and Weave-mastery. Only by understanding what is in there will you be able to truly embrace the Weave.’
Chapter 17
There hadn’t been a sound for what seemed like hours. Flexing the numbness from her hands and arms, she took a deep breath, and climbed out of the putrid trench that she’d been hiding in for the past twelve hours.
As expected, this part of the site was empty. The last of the diggers had left an hour earlier, joining his friends in the tent where weak and warm ale was served in bulk to the tired workers after another day under the whip.
She rested against the damp wall, listening for any sign of stragglers. Silence reigned. Satisfied she was alone, she stretched out the knots in sleeping muscles, before feeling her way across the rough stone, following the narrowing circle that led to the main digging area.
The twin suns had sailed below the crest of the open cavern hours earlier, and even with her enhanced vision she was still struggling against the growing darkness. It was probably for the best, she told herself, there was an ill feeling in this long forgotten place. The war was long gone, the bloodshed over, but memories still lingered. She could feel them now, ghostly echoes etched into the air, just out of reach of her own awareness but there all the same, calling across the vast distances of the shattered Aura as if they were standing next to her.
Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) Page 11
