Ringwall's Doom. Wolf Awert
have been hiding away from my foes,” Nill said with a smile like sour milk.
“That you have,” Morb-au-Morhg commented dryly, “but so have you hidden from your friends.”
“If I have any friends here, they must be as good at hiding as me.” Nill grew more sullen still.
“Truthfully said, young Nill – or do you prefer ‘Your Excellency’?” As always when Nill felt he was being made fun of, his expression darkened. Morhg acted as if he could not see it. “Your enemies dare not approach you because they fear you, and your friends do the same because they don’t know how to treat you. There are some things in life that are easy to explain.”
“And what’s so difficult about how to treat me?” Nill asked agitatedly. He knew he was not being taken seriously. “I am polite and cordial to everyone. I give them all the respect and esteem they deserve. And what do I get? Respect, certainly, sometimes they’re even polite. But esteem seems foreign to them, and cordiality does not exist in this place.” Nill felt mistreated by everyone – the entire world, in general.
“You are, if you’ll pardon my honesty, still a green lad who has only just learned the differences between the elements. A mage does not care much for a novice, and if he does, it will be little more than a word of fatherly advice or an encouraging clap on the shoulder. On the other hand, you are now an archmage of Ringwall, and you have the greatest power in Pentamuria, of a level you share with only nine other living people. Archmages are revered and attended on to their every whim. At least, that’s how one should act if one puts any value on life or sanity.”
“But I’m only here because I want to learn. I care nothing for my rank. Did you not come here for the same reason? To seek the truth?”
Morb-au-Morhg looked deep into Nill’s eyes and slowly, cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder. Nill felt the warmth of his hand, but also the weight, a weight that grew heavier and heavier. He never knew a hand could be so heavy. Morb’s voice seemed to change. It grew as heavy as his hand and as warm as a cozy fireplace in winter. “Do not forget that you are not just trapped in a game of power and recognition, you do not just fight against tradition and old rules. You yourself are a walking mystery. Nobody knows where you came from, what role you play in Ringwall’s future. Even the magon cannot figure it out. The lack of knowledge is the mother of all fear. It cannot surprise you that the people of Ringwall fear you. What would you expect from people if they are afraid of you, young Nill? They flee, or they bite. You are feeling the winds of caution as they whip through the corridors of Ringwall. On top of that is an army of rumors that fill out every crevice of the city ever since you’ve arrived.”
“Are you afraid of me, Morhg?” Nill asked, puzzled.
“I am too old to fear anything but myself, but I must admit I’d like to know more about you and the mysteries that connect you and our fates. I cannot deny it.”
Nill regarded the old mage in his blotchy cloak and his frayed woolen shirt, his badly patched boots and his callused, strong hands. Years of experience had left their mark on his face, yet he was the very opposite of frailty.
“There’s no great secret,” Nill replied. “Nothing but my parentage. Ringwall’s future has nothing to do with me. You will see. Years from now, you will see that I spoke true.”
“You choose the easy path too quickly,” Morb-au-Morhg said and removed his hand from Nill’s shoulder. Nill shivered. “You are the Archmage of Nothing, a new archmage with no predecessor, no traditions to break with.”
Morb-au-Morhg fell silent. Nill waited for a continuation, but the mage seemed to have finished. Nill’s impatience grew; he had heard it all too often. The great, incomprehensible Nothing.
“The Nothing,” he finally burst out. “Everyone keeps talking about it in hushed voices. Granted, it is the mother of all that is, but what is it worth when it stops being when it starts being?”
His voice was colored by disappointment and anger. He heard the unsteadiness in his speech and hated himself for it. He did not know how many times he had pointed out that Nothing in itself was indeed nothing at all. Nobody seemed to see it but him.
Morb-au-Morhg’s gaze left the walls of Ringwall and strayed to the horizon. He appeared to have forgotten Nill for a brief moment; it took a while for him to respond.
“Many winters ago, I witnessed the beginning of magic here in Ringwall. Exactly like you and all the others who came before, I visited the Sanctuary and felt the raw power of the five elements. It is as it always was, but for one difference.”
Morb-au-Morhg paused. It lasted so long Nill wondered whether he had run out of words. Perhaps though it was just too much; too many thoughts that had to be weighed, accepted or disposed of. Finally he said simply what was so difficult to say, for it was too powerful to say any other way. “When I went there, there was no symbol for Nothing.”
Nill waited expectantly. He could feel the strength behind the words, but he did not understand. These days, there was the Nothing, and back then there was not. So?
“You do not understand, Nill? You, Archmage of Nothing, your own magic dissolving in your hands, do not understand?” Morb-au-Morhg gazed expectantly into Nill’s eyes.
Nill shook his head. “No, I do not understand. Things come and go in Pentamuria. What’s so special about it?”
“Things come and go. Magic doesn’t. If the Nothing ceases to exist when it takes shape, it makes me wonder how it got into the Sanctuary. It will not have been a mage who called it; for a person capable of calling upon the Nothing would indeed be master of it, and the moment the Nothing arrived they would become the new magon. Do you truly believe Gwynmasidon brought the Nothing to Ringwall, Archmage?”
Nill pursed his lips. He felt the pressure the formal address had put on him and did not like it, but he had to agree.
“It came here by itself,” he said.
“Or it was called by someone else.”
Nill felt as though he had swallowed something very painful. He could guess Morhg’s next thought, but again Morhg did not oblige. He stood there silently, waiting for Nill to say it himself.
He heard a ringing between his ears. Brongard’s insults resurfaced from a long-forgotten childhood. You’re barely human. You are a nill.
He understood now what Morb-au-Morhg had been carefully steering him towards. Nill, the Nothing. He could have shrugged and left the scene, but he had not. He had not accepted his humiliation and had accepted the challenge. He could not have known that Brongard was not the challenger.
I will take the name Nill, and the whole world will bow before it, he had said, full of childish pride. And now he was the one to bow his head in shame, shame at understanding the enormity of his stubbornness. Could he truly have been the one to call the Nothing? He shook his head and sought refuge in mockery.
“Everyone sees someone else in me. Some of my brothers believe I am the Changer who will cast the world into oblivion. Ambrosimas believes I was chosen by fate to unveil the prophecies of the ancients, and you see the chosen of Nothing. Fate seems to have a curious single-mindedness when it comes to me, don’t you think?”
Morb was unfazed. “Yes, more than any one person should have to bear. But what do I know; no more than that you are a whelp, yet with barely a grasp on the five elements. And…” Morb paused, as if he feared the rest of his sentence. “You know another one, an older magic. Do not be alarmed, your secret is safe with me. But have you ever considered that the Nothing might be a gateway of sorts to this old magic? Trust me when I say: all these things are interconnected, and you are in their center. Whether you like it or not.”
“And trust me when I say: I have even less control over the ancient magic than over the elemental. How could it be any different? There are no teachers, there is only light and dark, harsh and soft, give and take. My understanding