Memories from Past Lives (1)

They hail me as a genius.

Despite the mostly reclusive nature of our everyday life, whenever a mystic steps into the spotlight, they usually cause a huge scene. Our deeds have become legends and stories children are told as bedtime stories. That’s why the public, both nobility and commoners alike, generally have a very high interest in us mystics.

From what I’ve heard from my friends, even I, who was a mere apprentice not long ago, and didn’t stand out in public nearly as much as my master in his official role, have often been a subject of rumours in the royal capital. Of course, my closeness to the princesses probably played a huge role in arousing all that interest. We were generally surrounded by trusted, tight-lipped servants, but after ten years of almost daily meetings and many occasions of public interaction, the whole royal capital knew that we were close like siblings.

At the latest, when I took over my master’s mantle as the court mystic, my name was on everyone’s lips. Of course, a layman had no way of knowing that my time of completing my education as a mystic in just 12 years was practically record-breaking. However, everyone knew that the court mystics were usually appointed as accomplished seniors, such as my master. The fact that an 18-year-old was granted this honour marked me as a genius.

Of course, I don’t think I fall short in any way as a mystic. I’m studious, my memorisation and deduction abilities are excellent and I have a keen interest in amassing knowledge. These are the key characteristics for all mystics, no mystic would take an apprentice without first making sure the individual in question has these attributes.

After all, despite the two often being compared by ignorant people, a mystic is nothing like a regular mage. A mystic is one who is steeped in ancient, occult and esoteric knowledge, without forgetting practical skills, knowledge and magic. A mystic is a polymath of magic, while a mage is a mere specialist. We’re not only required to learn about half a dozen more fields than a mage, we’re also required to be as good in those fields as a relatively accomplished mage in his own field of specialisation.

What makes our job even harder is that most of our fields of study are poorly documented, almost forgotten lore, which is why having a master to orally pass on his lifetime’s accumulated knowledge is pretty much a necessity for one to become a proper mystic.

Anyone with a decent head on his shoulders can become a mage, but only a truly talented person can become a mystic.

I do have the talent required to become a mystic. However, my status as a “genius”, as in someone exceptional even among mystics, is not entirely justified. I have a secret that allowed me to complete my education in such a short time.

My future master, Gundabad, found me when I was six years old. I’m the son of the village chief of a medium-sized village in eastern Tredland, Colton. I had displayed my learning abilities early on: by that age, I had long since learned to read, finished all the books my father could get his hands on, learned every story our village storyteller could tell by memory and learned everything our village’s hedge mage could teach, alongside other minor accomplishments. I wasn’t only famous within our village, peddlers and other travelling people spread the word to other nearby settlements.

Many mystics live a wandering life by necessity: first of all, the knowledge they seek isn’t readily available in any one place, even famous academies and libraries, and secondly, finding qualified apprentices is hard. Such was the case for my future master as well, until the king’s call came to him two years later. Although the eastern Tredland is a sparsely populated agricultural region with seemingly no value for a mystic, somehow his travels brought him to a neighbouring village, where he caught my scent.

My future master was getting along in years. He had yet to find a single qualified apprentice, so when he found me, he got very emotional and treated me like a treasure, offering my father a huge amount of money (for a village chief, anyway) for allowing me to be apprenticed to him. Honestly, my father would’ve agreed even if he had offered nothing, since he knew I couldn’t fulfil my true potential in our little village, and to begin with, only an idiot would pass by a chance to become a mystic’s apprentice. However, there was no reason to reject free money, so our village’s economy got a welcome one-time boost.

I was thrilled. Naturally, I was one of the people who had heard many stories about mystics, and unlike most others, I was fascinated not only by the great deeds of the mystics in those stories, but also their touted knowledge. I wasn’t like other kids: I loved learning. So I immediately applied myself to my studies with great ardour, not only memorising everything my master taught me, but also asking questions about many matters I had long been curious about. My master was naturally very pleased.

The first year of my apprenticeship was more or less a trial period. Once my master saw that my abilities were sufficient and that my passion for learning hadn’t subsided to any significant extent, he brought up a certain ancient spell he wanted to try.

We still led a roving life at that time. Although my master was focused on teaching me, rather than finding new knowledge, and although the constant travelling was hard on a kid like me, we had yet to find a place that felt right for putting down our roots. Hence, the events of that evening took place in a high class inn in a certain town in central Tredland. We were sitting on our beds, facing each other.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Edwin?”

It wasn’t exactly uncharacteristic of my master to throw me seemingly strange questions, but he had never touched the subject of reincarnation before, so I had to think for a while before answering.

My master waited patiently, a kindly smile on his weather-beaten, mildly wrinkled face. Unlike many old men, he still had a head full of hair, and it wasn’t even completely grey yet. He was also quite tall and powerfully built, not looking at all like a scholar who spends his days with his nose in the books. Well, that wasn’t all that unusual for us mystics, as we tend to move around a lot and many of us also practise martial arts for self-protection.

“I don’t know, master. I haven’t read much about reincarnation. I know it’s a popular belief in many nations in the southern part of the continent, but as far as I know, it’s on the level of faith, any evidence is tenuous at best. In the first place, does it even matter? Even if we did have past lives, we can’t remember them, so our past selves are as good as dead.”

My master nodded approvingly.

“A thoughtful answer. Very good. But did you know this? There were ancient mages who strongly believed in reincarnation and even claimed to have proof.”

“Really?!”

I bet my eyes shined with curiosity at that moment. I had a great interest in ancient knowledge, and I always grabbed on to every word when my master spoke of anything with the prefix “ancient.” The ancient civilisations were in many ways more advanced than the current ones, and I also loved the feeling of discovering something known only to very few people or even entirely forgotten.

“Yes. What if I told you that I know an ancient spell that can unseal some of your soul’s memories from its past lives?”

My eyes widened in shock and excitement.