“Knowledge and magic. It has been within you all along.” — Sophie Keetch, Le Fay
I took this photo two weeks ago in Tintagel, Cornwall. According to the legend, Tintagel is the birthplace of King Arthur. It’s also where his half-sister, the infamous Morgan le Fay, was supposed to have spent her childhood.
Although the legacy of the once and future king owes much more to great storytelling than historical fact, it’s easy to believe in magic at Tintagel! The views are breathtaking, the sea is crystal clear, and the isolated location lends itself perfectly to secret keeping and mysterious sorcery.
After my visit, I really wanted to write something that included a reference to King Arthur. My first thought was to have the Legacy of Androva characters visit Tintagel, but Merlin’s timeline didn’t fit with the Androva-Terra treaty, so I turned to the Light Mage trilogy for inspiration.
Today’s post is a short story (2.75k words) that takes place approximately ten years before Spell Tracker, the first Light Mage book. By the time Luca and Devin met the High Council, everyone was kind of in crisis mode, and I never got the chance to show what the Master Mages were like before. I wouldn’t change anything that Luca did, but it was still fun to write an earlier scene!
The Light Mage books are free to download from most stores ($0.99 on Amazon):
Thank you very much for visiting my blog today 💕.
MERLIN, KING ARTHUR, AND A SPELL WEAVER NAMED RAPHAEL
“I call this meeting of the High Council to order.”
Michael’s voice was raised, his tone radiating authority. Dark brown eyes swept around the table. Five out of his six fellow Master Mages fell quiet immediately, experiencing a variety of emotions as they met his stern gaze.
Uriel, the tips of his red hair still covered in ice from a close encounter with a snowdragon five minutes before the meeting, was relieved he didn’t have to be the mage in charge.
Gabriel’s expression was all polite attention even as her mind continued to run hypothetical spell shot recipes for the Academy of Magic examinations. A braid of light brown hair fell down her back, threaded with gold chains that glinted when she moved.
Raguel and Barachiel, their dark heads leaning toward each other, looked at Michael with wary eyes. Barachiel pushed the back of his hand against Raguel’s wrist, seeking reassurance. A formal call to order never meant anything good.
Selaphiel was trying and failing to press a smile from her lips. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and straightened her shoulders.
Next to her, Raphael continued to speak, his blue eyes flashing with amusement and his voice low and confiding. “So I told him I could neither confirm nor deny such an outrageous rumor, and then he said—ow!”
Selaphiel had interrupted with a sharp elbow to Raphael’s ribs.
He blinked, taking in the silence of the others and Michael’s scowl.
“Oh dear,” he said. “This all seems very serious.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could behave accordingly?” said Michael.
Raphael inclined his head. “Of course. You only have to ask.”
“Twice, apparently,” muttered Uriel. The ice in his hair was sliding underneath his collar as it melted, and he suppressed a shiver.
Without missing a beat, Raphael produced a spell shot from his jacket pocket. The contents glowed, ribbons of pink and red liquid curling in a perfect spiral inside the bottle. He handed it to Uriel. “Warming spell.”
Uriel removed the crystal stopper. After a couple of sips, his pinched expression relaxed. “Thanks, Raph.”
“Any time,” said Raphael with a fond smile.
“I’m curious about the rumor,” said Raguel. “Who is your new alter ego?”
Michael let out an impatient sigh.
Raphael smoothed his hands over his face and hair. Tendrils of glittering green Spell Weaver magic escaped from between his fingers. Instantly, his features transformed, becoming fine-boned and arrogant, with thin curling lips above a slightly weak chin.
“Rupert Désemparé, at your service,” he said with a smile that showed far too many teeth. “You’ve probably seen me on the mage-net. I’m very discerning and extremely well connected.”
He clicked his tongue and winked. Selaphiel hid a snort of laughter behind her hand.
“Dés… what?” said Barachiel. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s from one of the earthbound languages,” said Raphael. He noticed the glare that Michael was sending in his direction and hastily reversed the magical glamour.
“It means clueless,” said Selaphiel.
Gabriel’s voice was dry. “You don’t say.”
“And has Rupert found anything?” asked Raguel.
Raphael shrugged. “The usual. Life path manipulation. Watered-down spell shots. But no one has figured out how to beat Michael’s auditing spell, so that’s something.”
This was greeted with murmurs of approval, and Michael dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
Uriel leaned forward. “What’s the outrageous rumor?”
“Well,” said Raphael with a wicked grin, “Rupert might be a bit clueless, but he has… How can I put this? He has certain skills. In fact, you might say—”
Michael cleared his throat, his frustration obvious.
Uriel’s cheeks turned pink. “Sorry,” he said hastily. “We should probably get back to the meeting.”
Raphael put his hand on Uriel’s arm. “Don’t apologise. It’s my fault.” He turned to Michael. “I’m sorry we got off track. But my undercover activities are Master Mage business too.”
“Yes,” said Michael, “and I will put them on the agenda at the appropriate time.”
There was a short uncomfortable silence. Michael rubbed the back of his neck. When he spoke again, it was in a more conciliatory tone. “Look, we’re all very busy. The sooner we make a start, the sooner we can return to our respective workloads.”
The silence lightened, becoming expectant. The seven Master Mages had known each other since they were children, and any bad feelings never lasted long. Different as they were, they were each wholeheartedly committed to their roles on the High Council. The protection and prosperity of the magical dimensions always came first.
Michael rose from his chair and walked to the far wall. The room was circular, like the heavy wooden table at its center, and the pale glow of a winter sunrise streamed through a series of tall windows overlooking the city. He stopped beside a large map of the earthbound dimension.
“I’ve been monitoring this issue for a few weeks, and I don’t think it’s going to resolve itself. We need to revisit the balance,” he said.
Tiny glowing dots covered the map. Each dot represented an undergraduate mage in training, living a custom-made earthbound life that would prove their suitability—or not—for their chosen magical profession. Approximately seventy years passed in the earthbound dimension for every year in the magical dimensions. After leaving the Academy of Magic, mages typically lived three or four earthbound lives before graduating in their early twenties.
“The balance?” Barachiel asked.
“Yes,” said Michael. “The balance between fact and fiction.”
Bemused looks were exchanged. Raphael raised his eyebrows. “I hate to break it to you, Michael, but the earthbound dimension is literally made from spellwork. The whole thing is fiction.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m aware. I’m talking about perception.”
“I still don’t get it,” said Raguel. “Whose perception?”
“Undergraduates.” Michael gestured to the map. “The earthbound dimension is a test of their true selves. A clean slate with no magic, no memories, and no preconceived ideas.”
“We know. We designed it that way. What’s your point?” said Raguel.
Michael gestured again, this time with more emphasis. “They are not supposed to believe in magic. Or myths. Or fairy tales in general.”
“Well, of course not,” agreed Raguel. He looked at Barachiel, who murmured agreement.
“And yet,” said Michael, “the belief is there. And it’s growing.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed, and she twisted the end of her braid around her fingers. “No earthbound mage can access their magic, and to my knowledge, the binding spell has never failed. Why would they believe in something that doesn’t exist?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Uriel. “They want it to be true. I mean…”
He trailed off and caught his lower lip between his teeth. “The idea of magic is impossible to erase. It’s not like we haven’t tried. We did so many trial runs. But no matter how perfect our earthbound memory spells, we always knew something was missing. And we hoped. All of us. Even you, Gabby.”
Gabriel’s nod was reluctant. “I suppose. But Michael is talking about belief. That’s a step beyond hope.”
“A big step,” said Raguel. “Believing in magic is a powerful thing. The binding spell isn’t designed to resist that kind of onslaught.”
“Exactly,” said Michael. He looked around the room, making sure that everyone understood the problem. If undergraduates started using magic while they were earthbound, it could destabilize the entire system, putting hundreds of lives at risk.
Barachiel leaned back in his chair. “You want to reset the timeline.”
“Yes,” said Michael. “It’s the only way.”
His words landed heavily, and for a moment, no one spoke.
“How far back do you want to go?” asked Uriel eventually.
“Early twelfth century,” said Michael immediately. He’d been expecting the question.
“That’s nearly a hundred years,” said Selaphiel incredulously.
“All that work,” said Uriel, turning so pale that every single freckle on his cheekbones was clearly visible.
“It’s not so bad,” said Michael. He attempted a smile. “A hundred earthbound years isn’t quite eighteen months in the magical dimensions.”
“You seem very sure about the date,” said Raguel.
“I am. I know exactly what’s causing this.”
“And? Don’t keep us in suspense.”
Michael’s gaze went to Raphael. “King Arthur.”
“What?” Raphael sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t get upset,” said Michael. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“I know you’re not,” said Raphael. “Because King Arthur is a brilliant story and you agreed I could use it.” His gaze moved from chair to chair. “You all did.”
Selaphiel put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Yes, we did.”
“We did,” added Uriel.
“Yes,” said Raguel and Barachiel together.
“We’re as surprised by this announcement as you are,” said Gabriel.
Raphael considered their responses for a few seconds, and the tension in his spine reduced slightly.
“I apologise,” said Michael. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. Will you allow me to explain?”
“I suppose so,” said Raphael. “But only because I’ll get lonely on the moral high ground if I stay here too long.”
Michael chuckled. “Would it help if I told you that the problem is because the story’s too good?”
“How shallow do you think I am?” protested Raphael. His mouth lifted. “Please continue.”
“Okay. You are obviously correct that we all agreed. The earthbound dimension in the early 1100s was somewhat lacking in content for Spell Weaver life paths, so you provided inspiration in the form of Geoffrey of Monmouth and his fictional accounts of earthbound history. Which included King Arthur.”
“Geoffrey was fun to play,” said Raphael. “It was complete improvisation. He just made it up as he went along.”
Raphael’s eyes went out of focus as he remembered. “I’m proud of that story. It has everything. Love and betrayal, epic battles, prophecies with dragons, and a king who actually cares about his subjects.”
“And magic,” said Michael. “It has magic.”
“Only to improve the story,” said Raphael. “Merlin might be a little far-fetched, but he’s a great character.”
Gabriel huffed a short laugh. “Michael! You can’t be saying earthbound belief in magic is because of Merlin.”
“I am,” said Michael.
“Wow,” said Uriel. “He’s not the role model I would have chosen.”
“But what about William of Newburgh?” said Raguel. “He was supposed to be our fall back.”
“Right,” said Barachiel. “William. After Geoffrey died, he was going to expose the lack of real history in Geoffrey’s writing.”
“Which he did,” said Michael.
Raphael made a face. “William was a lot less fun to play. Far too pompous. But I thought I did a good job proving Geoffrey was a storyteller.”
“I remember you practicing your lines,” said Selaphiel. She grinned. “You said only a person ignorant of ancient history would have any doubt about how shamelessly and impudently he lies in almost everything.”
Raphael grinned back. “You have a good memory.” He turned to Michael. “If anyone thought King Arthur and Merlin were real, William should have put them right.”
Michael nodded. “He did. As I said.”
“I feel like there’s a but,” said Raphael.
“The but is Chrétien de Troyes,” said Michael.
“My star pupil,” said Raphael. “The poet. He only graduated recently. His last earthbound life ended in… 1190?”
“1191,” said Michael. “Twenty earthbound years ago. Three months in the magical dimensions. But in that time, his stories have rather taken off.”
“What did he write about?” said Uriel.
Raphael’s blue eyes widened as understanding dawned. “King Arthur. He wrote about King Arthur. He took my idea, and he made it bigger and better.”
“Exactly,” said Michael. “At least, he definitely made it bigger. Whether he made it better is a matter of opinion.”
Raguel and Barachiel exchanged glances. “What did he do?” asked Raguel.
“He added a complicated cast of knights who were always going on impossible quests, and he made King Arthur part of a love triangle.”
“Ugh,” said Gabriel, wrinkling her nose.
Raphael smiled. “It’s tastefully written. And the conflict between love and duty is fascinating.”
“Anyway,” said Michael. “Good or bad, it has captured the earthbound imagination. Undergraduate belief in magic is growing, and we have to do something about it.”
He returned to his chair and tapped the mage-portal in front of him. A few flashes of spellwork later, and all seven mage-portals showed the same screen.
High Council Resolution 257
To reset the earthbound dimension timeline to 1125
Proposed by Michael, Master Mage champion of Spell Masters
There were two voting buttons: Yes and No.
Everyone kept their eyes on their own mage-portal as they voted. Uriel was biting his lip again. Raguel and Barachiel reached for their screens together. Gabriel’s expression was carefully neutral. Selaphiel let out a tiny sigh as she tapped her screen, and Raphael’s jaw tightened as he did the same.
Michael stared. “What? What? I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Five of you voted No.”
Raphael was the first to lift his gaze. “Well, obviously I voted No. I’m horribly biased. There has to be a better way to fix this than erasing my story.”
“Bar and I voted No,” said Raguel.
Barachiel nudged his elbow. “You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Am I wrong?” said Raguel.
“No, you’re not wrong. Resetting the timeline could get very messy.”
Uriel’s voice was quiet but firm. “I voted No. Sorry, Michael, but the earthbound dimension needs stories, and I think we should deal with the magic thing instead of hiding it.”
“I voted Yes,” said Gabriel. “I agree with Michael. The risk is too great.”
Michael looked at Selaphiel. “Ellie? You voted No?”
“I voted No,” she confirmed. “I’m biased too.”
Raphael turned to look at her. “You are? How?”
“I’m Master Mage champion of Healers. Geoffrey’s story—your story—is an inspiration to my profession too. I’ve met several recent graduates who say their earthbound achievements were influenced by Morgan of Avalon.”
Raphael’s teeth flashed in a delighted grin.
“Try not to let it go to your head,” Selaphiel added.
His grin widened. “I’ll try.”
Michael clasped his hands together and exhaled loudly. “Fine. Resolution 257 is denied. We’ll meet again tomorrow. In the meantime, I would like each of us to consider ways of mitigating the binding spell risk. The best one will be decided by another vote. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said the others in unison.
“Meeting adjourned,” said Michael.
As the seven Master Mages got up to leave the room, they prepared to change their expressions and body language. Only in private did they let their guards down. The public face of the High Council was one of detached authority, unmatched magical strength, and absolute unity.
“Raph,” said Uriel, tugging on Raphael’s sleeve.
“Yes?” said Raph.
“You never finished telling us about Rupert.”
“His skills, you mean?” said Raphael with a smirk. He leaned to whisper in Uriel’s ear.
Uriel flushed scarlet. “Oh,” he managed.
“Trust me, it’s the most effective way to get someone to tell you their secrets,” said Raphael. “Beats bribery or threats every time.”
“I believe you,” said Uriel, his voice faint.
Selaphiel was a few steps behind them, and Raphael turned just in time to see her eyebrows draw together in a frown.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about all of the characters you’ve created. Does there come a point where you lose yourself?”
Raphael hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re not me, but at the same time, there’s a part of me in all of them. I hope I can tell the difference.”
“Do you have a favorite?” she asked.
“No. But antagonists are a lot more interesting. If we ever stage a production of King Arthur in the magical dimensions, I’m playing Merlin. No discussion.”
Selaphiel’s smile was a little mischievous. “I think you’d be very good.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said, as they followed Uriel out of the room.
And so, the story of King Arthur endured, its place in earthbound history settling somewhere between myth, legend, and truth. The challenge of suppressing earthbound belief in magic endured alongside it, with each new generation of Spell Weavers adding to the story. But as time went on, belief in magic became an excellent motivator for all professions, and in the end, even Michael and Gabriel had to agree that the magical dimensions were the better for it.
