Chapter 21

“Wake up!” Wallace’s gravelly voice greeted Kestrel with the rising sun.

“Hnnmg” Kestrel grunted in reply. It was far too early for anyone to be as high spirited as the old man.

“I’ve decided that I’m gonna train you.”

Kestrel stretched. Bones popped loudly. Kestrel never thought he’d be grateful for that, but he was. Every day he felt a little more himself.

“Train me in what?” he asked Wallace.

“What do you think?” Wallace retorted. “My cooking kills rats, so it ain’t that.”

“You’re gonna teach me magic?” Kestrel’s voice rose in excitement.

“We have a smart one here! He’s bound to be my star student,” Wallace made fun of the younger man.

“So, what do you say? You want me to teach you what I know?” the old man asked.

Kestrel nodded an emphatic ‘yes.’

“She’s right! You really do look like a puppy,” Wallace laughed at the younger brown haired man.

Kestrel opened his mouth to retort but decided to stay quiet instead.

“Good, you’ve already learned one of the most important lessons for memory mages.”

“What’s that?” Kestrel asked.

“Learning to shut up and listen.”

Kestrel chuckled in response.

“I’m serious. Most people have no idea of the power of silence. First off, no-one will know how much of an idiot you are if you keep your mouth shut, and secondly, when you do learn to retrieve the memories of others, your silence will encourage them to talk and fill in the void with noise. The more information they give you, the easier it is to target specific memories. Most people are so afraid of their own thoughts they’ll do anything to silence their inner voice. They’ll do anything to keep the quiet at bay. Use that.” Wallace instructed Kestrel.

Kestrel nodded as he listened to his new tutor. The old man’s words rang true to his experience. He recalled the many tales he’d heard from the fishermen he’d heard by just keeping quiet and listening to what they had said. His favorites had been their tales of eels the size of trawlers back on the coast.

“Are you listening?” Wallace’s question broke Kestrel’s reverie and brought him back to the present.

“Yeah I am,” Kestrel responded and stared into the grey eyes of the grizzled soldier, assuring him that his attention was focused on what he was being told.

“Good,” he huffed. “Now that you understand the first rule…You do understand it right?” Wallace asked.

Kestrel nodded.

“Now that you know to shut up and listen you’ll also know to keep your mouth quiet about yourself. It’s just as easy to be the one leaking information as it is being the person finding it out,” he said. “There’s no real way to block memory mages, but we can make it more difficult for them.”

Kestrel raised his eyes at the old man. He ignored the look.

“You must also to pay attention to the world around you. Do you feel differently after someone touches you? Do you have memories that appear suddenly out of context? Do you have memories that seem so concrete and objective that you would never doubt them? If so, those are probably manufactured from another memory mage. You must always be on guard.”

“What do you mean about the false memories?” Kestrel asked.

“Memories are subjective. They’re changed by emotions and time. If something seems concrete and unchanging, it’s more than likely a planted memory. Nobody recalls everything perfectly,” Wallace answered.

Kestrel nodded at the explanation, drinking in the information Wallace was providing.

“You can already read memories from other people. You’ve done it to me. It’s surprisingly easy. You just focus on an idea and your mind will search to retrieve a memory relating to it from the person who you’re touching. It’s controlling your magic that’s much harder. If you aren’t careful you can get overwhelmed. If you don’t have a filter, you may end up seeing things better left unseen,” Wallace’s voice sounded as if he spoke from experience. “So, with that in mind, the first thing I’m gonna teach you is to recognize the touch of magic.”

Wallace rested a hand on Kestrel’s shoulder.

Kestrel’s brain tingled when the old man removed his hand. The feeling was similar to the beginnings of having a limb fall asleep, except it was in his mind.

“Did you just take a memory from me?” Kestrel asked.

“Yes, this was the third time I took one in the space of this conversation.”

Kestrel frowned. Why hadn’t he caught it the first two times?

“Don’t be such a downer. It took me a whole day before I was able to recognize the touch,” Wallace laughed at the younger man. “You did something amazing and you’re acting like you’re an idiot.”

“But you took my memories from me, you think I’d feel them leaking from my mind,” Kestrel replied.

“Except that’s not how it works. Your memories aren’t being taken from you, it’s more like they’re being shared. Your mind is essentially a book. Takers like us have the ability to read the books written in others minds. We take in the pictures they show us and the pictures become a part of us just like the stories from the books become woven into us.”

Kestrel leaned in. He wanted to capture every word coming from the old man’s mouth.

“So, you see, we aren’t stealing the memories of others, rather we’re reading the book their mind writes,” Wallace coughed and went to retrieve a cup of water before he launched back in to his explanation. “The ones we call the Givers are like the bards who tell their stories. They can’t edit the book, or song in this case, but they can share it with others and let it be heard by whomever they wish.”

“Hmm,” Kestrel grunted. He didn’t understand what the old man meant, but something told him he would soon.

“Now, keeping with the book analogy, the Forgotten are like the editors of the novels we were talking about earlier. They are different from the Givers and the Takers because they can take memories from the minds of others. They can erase whatever memories they wish.”

Kestrel shivered. What would it be like having a part of who you are being ripped from you? He hoped to never find out.

“Then, lastly, are the Manipulators…”

“I still think that’s a terrible name,” Kestrel quipped and Wallace playfully swiped at him.

“As I was saying…They’re almost impossible to find. The only reason they’re known are because there were two or three who documented their abilities and experiments with their power,” Wallace said. “They are the ones who are like the authors of the story. They can write themselves into anyone’s books and leave them none-the-wiser.”

The younger man let the information sink into him. Had he had memories taken from him? Did he know people he’d never met? Had his memories been tampered with?

How could he trust his own mind?

“I know what you’re thinking Kestrel, and don’t bother. It’s no use worrying about it now. There’s simply no way to know what happened in the past before you felt the touch of the magic. What matters now is training yourself so you can recognize it and use it now,” Wallace told him as he spied the look in Kestrel’s eyes.

Kestrel let out a sigh. The old man’s words were simple and utilitarian. There was no point in plumbing the depths of his past looking for something that he wouldn’t be able to recognize. So he nodded to Wallace. “I’ve got all day old soldier, don’t stop now.”

*****

Wallace’s lessons carried on for the rest of the day and continued for the next few weeks. With each passing day, Kestrel recovered more strength. It was as if the lessons had sped up his healing process.

It was more true than Wallace thought.

Though he’d left it unvoiced, Cillia’s death had tortured Kestrel’s mind. Focusing on magic had given Kestrel a focus he’d lost with the death of the little girl. Kestrel dove into the lessons. If the magic he was learning had even slightest chance of stopping another tragedy like what had happened to his young ward, Kestrel would dedicate his life to studying it.

Wallace also felt his spirit stirred as he watched the young man. He hadn’t taken a mage under his wing since the death of Van, Sephira’s father.

Kestrel was redemption for his failure with Van.

Wallace hadn’t lived a day since his friend’s execution that he hadn’t cursed his cowardice. He’d been raised to fight, but he had run away from his responsibility. Van had charged towards the truth head on, despite Wallace’s pleading for him to stop.

Van was a hero.

Wallace was a coward.

Sephira’s father was convinced that a harsh, but free future was better than the illusion of safety whilst living in an unknown cage. Wallace had known he was right, but he’d been too scared to ever act on it.

He had let fear cripple him.

Sure, Wallace had had excuses, but that’s all they had been. Excuses.

Van had been killed. Wallace had lived, and he’d regretted it every day since it had happened.

Wallace hadn’t even had the guts to visit the Van’s family. Van had kept them from everyone. Wallace hadn’t had the courage to visit them when Van had first gotten incarcerated.

He was a coward.

Wallace hadn’t gone to the execution either, he had sworn that he wouldn’t see Van get killed in his quest, and he’d held true to that promise, but he couldn’t withhold from seeing his friend put in the ground and given a proper rest.

He had gone to Van’s meager funeral and wanted nothing more than to go to the devastated young mother then and comfort her.

He had never even gotten close enough to see her face. The sight of one of the Emperor’s Forgotten had stopped Wallace dead in his tracks. He’d wanted to walk up to her and her comfort the cloaked woman and her beautiful raven haired daughter but he’d fled.

He’d ran away at the sight of the Forgotten. Maybe he would ease the woman’s suffering…

He really was a coward.

He would redeem himself with Kestrel. He wouldn’t be so weak again.