For all of you writers--do you ever stop and wonder what your characters will be doing after a few years have passed?
For me it's a big deal: all the prose that I've posted so far is from writing that I've been doing for the last two years. I am writing a miniseries of twelve stories, some longer than others, about the history of twelve young people who join together in a larger series that is to come. I can see myself finishing the miniseries and writing the larger stories at about sixteen; but for now I'm fourteen and have many more installments to go.
Still, sometimes I'm tempted to try my hand at a little bit of the larger stories, thereby taking the characters that I have currently written about and placing them in a situation six or seven years into the future. Here's a bit from one of the grander stories I hope to write in future--see synopsis/context at the end if you're confused.
...So Magdalena had lost her memory. There was nothing more to it; no illusion. I knew it. Ramorjah knew it. Magdalena, obviously, did not know it, but Daelemen did, despite his apparent denial that it was true.
Late into the night he had stayed with her, asking her questions to which she had no answers. Magdalena appeared to have no recollection whatsoever of her past, of her location, or of her destiny.
Daelemen asked her if she knew what "magic" meant. She said, something like what others can't do. He asked her if she knew what "worlds" meant. She said more than one world. He asked her what a world was, and what an Heir was. "What kind, the air we breathe or the heir to a throne?"
He had tried to keep his temper down. I saw the sweat and helplessness on his face--never had I seen the stolid man of one and twenty so distraught. I searched my memory for his former self, and realized that his demeanor had been somewhat tendered during the past year with Magdalena, Ramorjah, the others and me. I could see his spirit battling and losing now as the truth sunk in: Magdalena had no memories of him, or of us, or of Viren, her teacher. Only when she drifted at last into sleep did she seem to show any significant emotion: writhing, twisting in her slumber.
He stayed all night and into the late hours of dawn outside her tent, which was the center of the time-stopping aura that had drifted over our camp. Everyone was at a loss for what to do, with ourselves or with her. Ramorjah told me quietly how regretful he was that he, of all people, should have come onto this business. I was slightly angered at his annoyance with fate, but allowed it.
In the meantime, I had mental battles of my own. Something had to be done with this woman--this woman who had once more become a girl. I had many hypotheses about her condition--though I had never seen it before, it was apparent that she could sense her former self in dreams, but not in reality. This could turn things good or bad for her: if we left her alone, with nothing but her sleep-pictures, she would become drowned in them and they would destroy her. But, I thought, if I took her with me on my travels...
...If I brought her up again, knowing nothing but magic and history, then she might be more useful. An image of a new Magdalena crept into my mind: educated, with no knowledge of otherworldly problems to tamper her skills. She could help me so much... and with that born verve inside her I could easily restore her memories to her through mind games. This I tried to convince myself as I braced for the confrontation with Daelemen: he, I knew, would not want to leave her side. I wondered what could have made him so protective: it couldn't be love. It just couldn't, it wasn't right.
But whatever it was, he still would not like me taking Magdalena away. It would be against his principles.
I presented the idea to him with Ramorjah as my witness, and held my breath after speaking for his answer.
I read the response in his eyes before it issued from his mouth: "No." No. I knew it, I had known it. My heart sank.
"No. I know, Keria, I know you. You are a person who will easily be swayed by facts and tempted by efficiency. It is a small part of your mind, the smallest possible part, which is tempted by conscience. And perhaps in your way it will work for you--but to use an unknowing young woman for your purposes, she having no say in the matter, is a cruel efficiency. To my mind, which is balanced between duty and justice, it is a section of slavery."
I had prepared myself for this, though. "I don't consider it slavery," I said. "It's for the benefit of all."
"Yes, benefit, efficiency, use. If our only guidance was efficiency, we would be ruined by now."
"Consider it, Daelemen! You're afraid of what I love. You go by what you feel in your heart, I go by what I know to be true from the deducible facts. Think of it: if Magdalena is educated in magic up to the skills to which any of us have already risen, then she can make a choice. She will know what is true."
"But you won't have the courage to teach her about what is intangible; what she can feel!"
"Of course. And if I don't I'll hand her over to you; and you can teach her about righteousness and her mission. And then she can choose which path she wants to follow." I stared at Daelemen, though I knew I couldn't stare him down. "Unless," I said softly, "you aren't brave enough."
I felt his spirit fall, felt his heart sink. And the small part of my mind that was devoted to feelings squeezed at my betrayal. I was messing with his mind, using the trick that my old masters had taught me to use with skillful words, and he was doing my bidding. It was, I knew, upsetting the balance of trust which Viren had worked so hard to protect. But Viren was dead now. I'll go easy on Magdalena, I promised myself. When I teach her magic, I'll teach it mildly. She'll be ready for Daelemen's own coaching.
"All right," Daelemen said. "You can restore her thoughts; I'll restore her conscience."
"In the end, her personality will make her new," said Ramorjah. I was completely ready to believe him, and a knot in my stomach loosened as we ended our conference.
If that didn't make any sense to you, I'm not really surprised, you guys having no context. Basically, a young woman of nineteen named Magdalena recently tried to use her primitive magical powers to accomplish a magnificent feat, and has lost all of her memory in the process. Keria; or Kerialsani--a witch Magdalena's age but far more accomplished--wants to take advantage of Magdalena's now empty head to refill it with more information than was in there before. Keria thinks that Magdalena will be better off than before, when she had little knowledge of what her magic could do. Daelemen, slightly older than the two women but in the same order, has a heart ruled by instinct and emotions. He fears that if Magdalena were newly taught to think only in factual terms, she would not be the same anymore and would lose her person. He is convinced by Keria, who narrates, to share the position of teacher for Magdalena's new upbringing.
