“I never enjoyed living here. Luxurious it might be, but your eyes always adapt to the darkness after a while. And spacious it might be, but here there is room for but one. You see a study, Liandrix? I see a cage; a prison for an old man to die in.”
Liandrix was surprised as his sudden solemnness. The archmage continued to stroll around and finally halted at the window and looked down upon the sleeping city.
“Four decades I’ve been archmage of the Kirin tor. Forty years of captivity. Do you know what happened to the last archmage?” he asked, but did not wait for an answer from Liandrix. “There was a political rebellion and the archmage was … removed from his office, right here. There was a battle; one could even call it a war. And at the end of that war I suddenly sat here, in this room, alone. I decided quickly that I’d rather trade this cold house of iron and stone for a wooden one amidst grass and earth, and I did.”
David’s smile returned to his face as he turned to face Liandrix. “Many a mage came to live with me, all oblivious to my true identity. None ever figured out who I was. In that, you are the first.”
“No one knows?” Liandrix asked disconcerted.
“At first, no. but at one point I decided I let one person into my secret, I found it important that this person knew. And this, in turn, is the very reason why it was you who came to live with me.”
“Whom did you tell?”
David narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “You know, Liandrix.”
Liandrix looked down at the varnished floor. Indeed, he didn’t need to think on it.
“Meredith.”
David nodded in silent acknowledgement.
Liandrix’ head shot up. “But that means there must have been a reason for her choice.”
David’s smile was mysterious. There was a hint of pride in it, mingled with sorrow. He nodded. “Your acceptance into Dalaran and your living arrangements were no coincidence.”
Liandrix knew as much, but to his feeling it didn’t add up to his being here. “I thought I was invited because I was talented.”
“Yes … and no.”
Liandrix watched David’s face carefully. The old mage was dabbling with words in his mind, weighing which ones to tell him. It seemed to take an eternity before he opened his mouth again, and when he did Liandrix feared which words would come out.
“A few months ago Meredith received a letter from Stratholme. It spoke of a boy with great magical talent, little room to put it to use, and a teacher who knew she would not be sufficient for him.”
“My mom?” Liandrix interjected. “My mom sent a letter about me to Dalaran? About how talented I was?”
The archmage held up his hand, his face grave.
“The letter told a tale of a young boy not yet old enough to read or write, let alone bear responsibility for his deeds. It was a beautiful day in the month of the harvest fourteen years ago, and all hands were called to the lands beyond the city walls to gather before the winter hit. The children were left in the middle of the biggest field so that the rest may keep an eye on them. The boy was among them, his parents busy on the field.
“It was still early in the day when it happened. There was an explosion that turned the very sky black and the air was rent by a storm of fire that could be seen from the other side of Stratholme. The fire was strange, for it emitted no smoke and burned for mere seconds before vanishing as quickly as it came. What remained of the destruction after the last pieces of the carnage had fallen to the earth was nothing more than a giant hole in the ground where the farm had been, a giant basin of death.”
Liandrix kept quiet. He felt like something was closing in on him. David continued.
“People gathered around the crater fifty feet deep and three times that wide, but none dared venture below. They did not need to climb down to see that the explosion had killed everyone on that farm. The first one to dare lower himself to the bottom of the pit found only a boy, scared, but unharmed. No one else dared follow him, so Dale Emmot took the boy and brought him home to his wife, Olivia, who knew immediately that the explosion had been created with magic.”
The wall pressed up against Liandrix’ back and he realised he had been backing into it unconsciously. The story wasn’t true. He had heard of a terrible fire that happened around that time. Fires were common during the harvest. This version made no sense. How could he not remember something like that happening?
David Spellsword fixed him with an ironclad stare.
“That cannot be true, I could never have killed all those … that many.” Liandrix covered his mouth with his hand as the taste of bile rose to his tongue. “The harvest … there were so many people … and kids!”
David approached him. “Liandrix, what happened there—“
“It did not happen!” Liandrix roared. “It’s impossible. It’s a lie.”
“Is it?” the archmage said coldly. “Is it a lie that your parents don’t share your magical prowess? Is it a lie that something destroyed that farm all those years ago? Tell me, Liandrix, how much do you think you look like your parents?”
Liandrix felt the floor vanish beneath his feet and his heart leave his chest. He wanted to scream, to deny, to storm out, but deep down his reasonable mind and logic formed the picture in his mind. Somewhere he had always known that something was amiss, that something was out of place.
My own parents. I killed my own parents.
David took a firm step forward. They were now nearly standing face-to-face. “Liandrix, that event was not your doing. You are not responsible!”
“Then why are you telling me all of this!” Liandrix said louder than he intended to.
David grabbed Liandrix’s upper arms and Liandrix tried not to winch when the archmage squeezed the injured one. “Because it is essential that you know what you are capable of, Liandrix! Why save you from this pain if it prevents you from inflicting it on another? I’m sure you would not be able to live with yourself had you done so, and nor would I, knowing that I could have prevented it.”
David released his arms and Liandrix wrapped them protectively around his midriff. He felt like there was something dark inside him, a monster that was trying to come out, and only his arms could keep it in.
“If I have done it once … I could do it again.”
David’s gaze softened somewhat at that. “Doubtful, Liandrix. The magic that you displayed on the farm took an extensive mount of cause to conjure. You would have needed something that motivated you to do it, and I must confess that I cannot imagine what that might be. But you should know that you did do it again this night. When you were pinned down by those conjured creatures of your friends’ making you dive on the ground and shatter the earth. The spell you used was only a fraction of the one that destroyed the farm, and it was under threat of death that you had cast it.”
Liandrix did not remember shattering earth, but there was something in the eyes of the archmage that made him believe what he said was true. That didn’t take away what already happened, however. Liandrix just wanted to put it from his mind.
“So you let me live with you just so you could observe me?” Liandrix asked.
David smiled. “Not just for observing, I rather thought that I might teach you a few things whilst sharing a roof.”
Liandrix stared at him. “teach me things? Every time I came home or woke up you were up to something weird, and most of the times it involved me in a way that I had to clean something up or repair something that had been broken!”
David’s grin grew and Liandrix started to grow annoyed by it. “I found you trying to chase shadows away and you nearly burned the house down!”
David chuckled, apparently at the memory of it. “And how did that make you feel?”
“I felt like I was responsible for the care of a mentally deranged child,” Liandrix said honestly.
“Responsible?” David rolled the word in his mouth. “Good.”
“Good?” Liandrix stared at the old man. Was he playing another game with him?
The archmage seemed to contemplate something for a moment and then marched to the desk next to the bed and took from a cabinet a gem-studded box. From the box he extracted something small that Liandrix couldn’t identify and sat down on the bed.
“When I was taken as an apprentice my master refused to teach me anything, until I presented him with proper diction as to the definition of magic. I was to tell him what magic was. And so I wrote, but when the master looked down upon my work he tossed it into the fireplace without reading it entirely and told me under no certain terms that I was wrong. I kept on writing, searching through every book in the archives of the Kirin Tor. I wrote of spells scarcely known and of history long forgotten, but all my work ended in the same place.
“Finally I left for Quel’Thalas and searched far and wide for a proper definition of magic. I learned things I doubt many masters know to this day, but never a definition of magic that I knew would satisfy my master. Finally I came to meet an elf who told me some of the history of their people. It was the tale of Queen Azshara and how the magic of the elves had sundered the world, nearly wiping out every living being. The way he told it brought tears to my eyes, I could not comprehend how anyone could abuse magic in such ways to grant themselves greater power. But I understood, Liandrix, I finally understood.
“I returned to Dalaran where I presented to my master a small strip of paper with only one word written on it. He took one look at it and gave it back to me but said nothing. I asked if he would teach me and he shook his head and told me ‘You know all that you needed to learn.’”
David got up and moved across the room with the strip of paper between his fingers and put it in Liandrix’s hands. The paper had turned brown and cracked by time but the word was still clearly readable, and Liandrix instantly knew what the archmage had meant.
Responsibility
*
*
Cohlien Frostweaver closed the book and handed it back to Liandrix. “Fine work, as usual, but are you sure you don’t want to give me a practical presentation?”
“I am sure, Master.”
Cohlien peered up at him. “And your choice of study … Are you sure about that too?”
Liandrix put the book on his desk and kept his eyes on it for a while as he ran his hand over the words ‘Responsible Use of Teleportation’ before looking back at the Gnome.
“Very sure, Master.”
“Well, lore is a broad subject; you might want to specify which type of lore you—“
“Lore of magic. Every kind, Master.”
Cohlien bounced back and forth on his feet for a moment and Liandrix could tell that it didn’t sit right with his Master.
“So, why lore? It’s not a very sought-after course of study, especially by young mages such as yourself.”
Liandrix stared at nothing in particular, and answered with a shrug. “I just feel I need to.”
When Cohlien Frostweaver had gone Liandrix left his study to Falen and Derreck. After the incident in the woods both of them had become a lot friendlier towards Liandrix and he had at first wondered if that had been Cohlien’s doing. Later he realised that the archmage had not told Cohlien everything, he had kept all they had shared in the study of the archmage between the two of them. Derreck and Falen had been a bit reluctant to do any sort of magic for a while after the incident, but they quickly recuperated and even helped Liandrix with his work where they could.
Liandrix himself had not cast a spell since. It wasn’t that he was afraid of using magic; he just didn’t feel the need to, anymore. There no longer was a burning curiosity every time he learned about a new spell and he felt happy just knowing how the spells worked.
David Spellsword had left the house to Liandrix, believing that he too had taught Liandrix all he needed to learn from him. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him since and Liandrix often wondered if he was driving another student mad with his strange acts at the moment.
Liandrix climbed the steps to the balcony above the study. Above was a small veranda which Liandrix had found to be a great place to study, but his books were absent, now. Liandrix leaned over the railing and looked at the sun as it slowly started to vanish behind the distant hills. He wondered if his parents were looking at the sunset as well, and why they never told him what had happened on that farm all those years ago. Still, he knew that he could never change what had been done and realised that whatever had happened didn’t make Olivia and Dale any less his parents. They had been there for him as long as he could remember, and nothing could ever take that away.
