Tino's Word - Past and Present

Prologue

The smell and sound of magic being worked filled the air. Clicking and groaning sounded as the magic twisted and bended and broke, its heavy aroma wafting through the air; it was intoxicating. Magic's smell is wonderful: it smells of a rainy day, of cedar woods and of a clean, clear breeze rustling the trees' needles.

A hoarse, raspy voice chants in a rough language unheard, in its pure form, for nearly a thousand years. The pulsing glow of purple fills the room, runes meaning God knows what etched into wooden tablets hanging from the ceiling like dried fish. The tablets are dyed black.

The chanting intensifies. It was aggressive but reverent.

Reality shifts, clarifying itself like a photographer adjusting the lens of their camera. Everyone feels it, and for ten seconds there was widespread chaos as ley lines are temporarily visible, transparent lavender in color.

The magician utters more words in the strange, forgotten language and everyone forgets again, a fog falling over the ley lines, humans–and enchanted immortals–are no longer able to see them. Perhaps once they did, but magicians like this one concealed them for many reasons. This magician's purpose is one example of the many catalysts that finally made established magicians pull the trigger and let themselves fall to legend. Magic was, after all, dangerously permanent.

The thing about magic is that it rips holes in reality and space time. Sometimes these holes are large and strong enough to stick an arm through and quickly grab the television remote on the other side of the living room. Others are extremely permanent and stable. Magicians, in the past, were often able to install a semipermanent base in them if needed. The rips were capable of surviving maybe one or two centuries if properly stabilized. In order to conceal his magic, the magician, who was called once Håkon, established his base just over twenty years before in one of the numerous holes at the conception of this time line.

Holes typically hung in one place, but by manipulating space time one can move the hole to another location in, essentially, frog leaps. These "frog leaps" rocked the stabilizing magic in the tear. Thus Håkon found the most powerful of rips, which appeared in northern Greenland, and moved it all the way to continental North America. By revealing ley lines, Håkon could refortify the magical support beams of his magic study and secret hideout. This was done by drawing from a stream or well of pure power and using it to patch the cracks. He could only use the most pure and powerful of magic for it to work. Concealing, maintaining and stabilizing rips was a risky business indeed.

Håkon did not intend for anyone to be badly hurt by his magic, but he already knew Björn's immortality and longevity would not survive, nor his dependent character. Not the way Gunnar had molded this reality. He had come so close to ignoring Björn, Eirik and Magnus like Håkon had requested, and perhaps forgetting about them, but Gunnar disregarded these instructions. Håkon doubted Gunnar knew Björn would pay for his mistake with his life.

Håkon sighed. He–Björn–was just collateral damage. Håkon was doing this to prevent inferior magic from disrupting set time lines and unstable, fluid realities. One immortal gone was no problem to him. There would be ripples in the pond, but the pond would still be there. If no action were to be taken, then there would be no pond left behind by Eirik's magical scourge. Besides, it would not be Håkon's heart that would ache when all of this was over, so for him it was win-win.

His magic was not nearly as strong as Eirik's, but it was certainly strong enough to put a stopper the champagne bottle. He had created so much trouble over that man–Magnus–than he was worth. Håkon felt more sympathy for Magnus than Eirik, despite Magnus living his days in a pleasant, idyllic Sicilian cottage, and not in Eirik's prison. Eirik would spend the rest of his life serving as a merchant for the Hanseatic League with the urgent thought in the back of his mind that he must find Magnus–without knowing who Magnus was. Håkon knew it would drive Eirik mad, but judged Eirik completely deserved it.

Eirik had been very unwise to be so unruly with magic. Magic was not a servant to man, but rather a cunning thief you had to catch and force a confession out of. Catching Eirik and making him confess had been particularly difficult, and creating his prison was even more so. It had been messy, but it was done.

The magician thought bitterly how Eirik swore to protect magic and maintain integrity. He swore never to use it for personal gain. He remembered how Eirik helped Håkon take the oath himself, his proud smile making Håkon feel drunk with happiness in the moment. Håkon had been so young back then, it was so difficult now to imagine a time when Eirik and Håkon were happy to be in each other's company. It was so rare that they could be with each other back then. Now it was a curse to have Eirik's tired, dark, old, stone cold eyes set on him. He knew what Eirik was thinking. He was cursing him over and over and over again in his mind.

Håkon wished he didn't have to watch Eirik in such pain, but he had no other choice. Eirik had bestowed upon him the gift of magic, and Håkon had turned it back on him to rip him down. Eirik had asked for it. Håkon was brought comfort by the knowledge that it had been necessary, and his teacher's sentiments in recent days had seldom held any reason at all. The chiding voice of a younger, more at peace, Eirik scolded him in the back of his head. You know you have the moral high ground, dillydoun. You can't let him win and tear apart this reality because you felt bad for Eirik. He deserved this.

He knew the voice was right. But he also heard Eirik's voice saying dillydoun sweetly, smiling. He felt like a young boy again with Eirik doting over him and calling him sweet lullaby names. He missed that simple time, but those days were clearly long gone.

Gone were the long days of sailing and eating fish around a campfire. Now hours dragged for Håkon, a minute seeming like a million years. He was always so tired from performing so much magic.

Creating new realities was difficult and arduous, but for Håkon's plan to succeed it was necessary.