The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3)

by Michael Foster

  ‘Oh, Leopold, why didn’t you tell me?’ She leaned forward and whispered to him, ‘I am so happy to meet you, my darling brother!’

  ‘What’s that?’ Leopold spoke with surprise, much louder than he intended.

  ‘Leopold Green, my left foot,’ she said. ‘I am your half-sister. Our father was the same man—Edmond Calais.’ She gestured discretely to the others in the room. ‘All these and many more are your half-sisters and their children. We heard you had been found and had arrived with the magician today. We thought it perhaps some cruel jest or rumour, but I see now on meeting you it is true. I can see our father’s look about you! You’re his spitting image!’ She leaned further forward and grasped his hands and squeezed them. ‘Oh, Leopold! How wonderful to know you are alive!’

  Leopold was taken aback, and pulled away.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know you don’t remember any of us. I was only five years old when you disappeared. We had thought you and Empress Lillith were lost forever, but then you returned and the Paatin horde was miraculously defeated. We thought our prayers had been answered. Then the Darkening came over the world. Everything fell into chaos and you and mother vanished again—before the coming of the witch. No one knew what happened to you. All hope was lost, and now we have cause for celebration!’ The woman stood up and pressed her hands to her chest with joy. ‘Come, you must meet everyone!’

  Leopold spoke softly and urgently to calm her down. ‘That is not a good idea,’ he told her. ‘I’ve lived my whole life on a tiny island, with only salt and sand for company. I am not even sure if all this I’ve heard about me is true.’

  ‘Very well, my brother,’ she said considerately. ‘Take your time. This must be quite a shock for you. Have you truly been in hiding all this time? How exciting!’

  A woman’s scream sounding from outside the window interrupted them and Chatrise hurried over to look into the dim courtyard, as did Leopold. The other ladies also rushed to the several windows along the wall, fussing as they struggled to make out what occurred below.

  ‘What is it? What has happened?’ one of them called below.

  Guards rushed to the scene, gathering with torches and lanterns in hand.

  ‘A body. Stabbed in the back,’ one of them called aloud, a dark shape splayed at his feet. ‘Truthseekers!’ he added with dismay, and it sent a gasp of horror through the room. More guards were running into the courtyard, as others were coming into the room, ushering them away from the windows and closing the giant wooden shutters to keep out the night.

  ‘Calm yourselves, Ladies,’ one of them said, an aging fellow. Leopold noted that his armour and equipment looked as old as he, meticulously cared for. The leather straps that held his plating in place were dark and soft with age, showing no sign of mistreatment. The steel was crossed with grooves and furrows from the numerous blows it had taken over the years, the sharp edges polished smooth.

  Chatrise drew Leopold aside while the ladies pulled their children back to the rugs and the fireplace. ‘You should return to your room,’ she told him in a hushed voice. ‘If Truthseekers are here, your life is in danger.’

  ‘Who are they?’ Leopold asked. ‘What do they want?’

  ‘They are killers. No one knows who they are or what they look like. None have ever been caught. Now you are here, they will be after you most of all. Yes, yes, you should not tell anyone who you are, and I will keep your secret safe. Quickly! Go! The guards will shortly guide us into the cellars below this building and we will stay there until they are sure it is safe.’

  Leopold hurried away at her command and retraced his way down the halls, until he was beside the window he had used to enter the building. He waited until the passageway was empty of rushing soldiers and servants, and then quickly took his chance, climbing outside and up, agile as a monkey.

  Guards were running about madly, shining their lamps into all the dark corners to find their quarry. Leopold shuffled along the wall in the darkness, returning to the point where he could vault across the space between the buildings. He was about to reach his leg across the gap, when he felt someone watching him; he was not alone. Sitting on the rooftop above, swathed in dark cloth and shadow, was a figure; the moonlight revealed a pale, moustached face.

  ‘What brings you here, young man?’ the fellow asked with amusement.

  Leopold froze. He had no excuse. He had been caught. A terrible thought occurred to him at that moment. Have I stumbled upon the Truthseeker?

  ‘I could ask you the same,’ Leopold replied, summoning up a menacing tone.

  The man chuckled in response. ‘Come up here. I am no accursed Truthseeker. I would talk with you a moment, young Leopold. If the Truthseekers are here, you are best locked safely inside your room before they learn of your existence. You make an easy target for their blades.’

  Leopold climbed and sat on the rooftop, facing the stranger. Balanced precariously, straddling the angled ridge, it was as if he sat upon the saddle of a gigantic horse. ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I keep my ear to the ground, Leopold; but so do the Truthseekers; they may know of you already. They have killed someone in the open, possibly a distraction for just that purpose—which is why I came to check on you.’

  ‘Why would they want to kill me?’ Leopold asked defensively. ‘I have done nothing to them.’

  Again the man laughed, not with ill humour, but genuinely amused by Leopold’s comments. ‘You are so naive, boy; not at all like your father. Nobody needs any reason to kill anyone else—especially in these dark days. The Truthseekers are instruments of evil and they murder anyone with an inkling of magic in their blood.’

  ‘Then why would they seek me?’

  The stranger drew back his hood to reveal his shaggy black hair and trimmed beard, unworried that he may be seen by the guards running around below. On closer examination, Leopold saw the man’s clothes were a dark green, and not black as he had first assumed.

  ‘The title of Emperor guarantees an ample supply of foes, Leopold, but you have magic in your blood; your worries are doubled.’

  ‘Magic?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘Your father was a man unlike most. It would appear he chose purposefully not to develop the spark inside of you. Indeed, I can feel many spells planted upon you over the years to repress your nature. I can feel it, others will too. The Truthseekers will come for you eventually—or worse.’

  ‘What is worse than them?’ Leopold asked.

  ‘Him. The magician that killed your father—Samuel. Yes, I know about that, too. He is as dark-hearted and evil as any demon that now stalks the land. People do not fear and despise him for nothing. Do not let him tell you differently. He wiped out every single living soul in my homeland in an instant. He keeps you safe for now, but that is only to meet his own ends. He will have something in mind for you to suit his plans; of that I am certain.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Leopold asked. It was difficult to believe his parents were fooled by Samuel; but, if true, the magician posed more danger than ever.

  ‘Once, I knew him well, but he has changed much since then. Samuel was my most trusted friend. Now he is my nemesis. He is a monster, a demon, a plague upon humanity. Any good inside him was consumed by his pain and anguish and selfish desires. He is worse than all the other curses that have befallen this land put together. He has deluded himself with his grand schemes of taming the Demon King—a beast that he released upon the world himself.’

  ‘Then what should I do?’ Leopold asked, alarmed by the prospect of returning to the magician.

  ‘I have a plan, but I will need your help. Stay with him. Find out as much as you can. He must have a weakness and I am sure he keeps it hidden within his coffin. He never goes far from it and I’m sure all the tales of its horrors were begun by him to ensure no one opens it. If we discover its purpose, we can use it against him. I will return to you soon and ask what you have learned.’

  ‘But I don’t wa
nt to stay with him!’ Leopold protested. ‘I hate him. I want to leave as soon as I can.’

  ‘You have no choice. You cannot run; he will find you wherever you go. Your only choice is to do as he commands. Stay close to him. There you can be the most useful. But never trust him, Leopold. Never! No matter what he says or how he seems. That would be trusting evil itself.’

  ‘Are you not afraid he will find us here?’ Leopold asked, looking around nervously at the thought of Samuel discovering them in the midst of their plotting.

  ‘He is gone now, on an errand of madness I would wager, or I would not be here. He would sense my presence.’

  ‘If he is as bad as you say, how do you know him so well?’

  ‘At one time I was a Lord of the Order, like him—a Magician of the Empire—before the Truthseekers hunted us down. Unfortunately, I am partly responsible for unleashing this evil upon the world. I took Samuel to Cintar when he was just a boy and I introduced him to the School of Magic. If I had known then what I know now, I would have killed him on the spot. My name is Tulan Goodwin—at your service.’

  ‘How can I do this alone?’ Leopold asked, struggling against the weight of it all. ‘Who can I trust?’

  ‘Did your father not teach you, boy? Trust no one.’ Then he sighed at the bleak tone of his words. ‘Captain Orrell is a good man, one of the many being misled. If you fear for your safety, stay by the captain’s side. He would protect you—to the cost of his own life if need be.’

  ‘What about the old man—Salu? I heard he is also a magician, so will he not attract the Truthseekers upon us?’

  Tulan was pensive. ‘I do not know. He has power, but not wits enough to use it. I sought him at one time for insight, and found a simpleton. I gained no sense from him; human ways are beyond his comprehension. Genius and madness are tightly interwoven. He might let you fall to your death before he realised what was going on. If the Truthseekers take him there is nothing you can do; do not stand in their way. No, keep with Captain Orrell. The man is worthy. More the pity he is besotted with his Empire,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘When will you come again?’ Leopold asked, but a voice from his window caught his attention.

  ‘Emperor Leopold! What are you doing up there!’ It was a guard, leaning out towards him.

  Leopold turned back to Tulan, but the man was gone, leaving him alone on the roof in the cold of night.

  ‘One moment,’ Leopold called. He carefully climbed down, hopped across the gap and into his room.

  What are you doing up there?’ the guard asked. ‘There are Truthseekers about!’ And he clanked the shutters into place and locked them tight, greatly flustered.

  ‘I heard noises,’ Leopold replied in way of excuse.

  ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ the man said. He was wet with perspiration and flushed with worry. ‘If you hear noises please let us know. Don’t risk your dear life by climbing upon the shingles. I am unsure such heights would be safe from the devilish Truthseekers. They can fly and turn into rats if need be.’

  ‘Why would they need to fly and turn into rats?’ Leopold asked, and the confused expression on the guard’s face made him immediately regret asking. ‘I will remember that,’ he said to close the matter and he sat back on his bed while the guard, relieved to have found him, returned to the hall and eased the door shut behind him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Queen of Lies

  LEOPOLD WOKE TO someone waiting at the foot of his bed. He listened intently for the sounds of his home, his eyes closed, and realised something was amiss. There were no busy noises of Mother preparing breakfast; no clinking of Father’s spoon against his cup as he stirred his Tanabil leaf tea, and no noises of him sipping at it patiently; no hiss of the wind in the leaves around their house nor the distant thumping of waves along the shore. He heard none of these usual and reassuring sounds, all ingrained into his waking mind throughout every prior day of his life.

  Leopold realised the bed was wrong. It was not his. It was twice as big and far too soft. He drew air in through his nose, and discovered the room smelled different. Worst of all, someone was standing perfectly still nearby, watching him.

  He opened his eyes, discerning the man lurking beyond his feet. Light and dark separated and solidified as he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. The light became the walls, the sky through the window, the glint of sunlight in a mirror across the room; the dark fled to one spot, congealing into the shape of a magician towering to the ceiling.

  Lord Samuel waited patiently, quietly, in his black robes.

  ‘Ah,’ Leopold groaned, sitting up. Now he remembered; This was not his home. The magician had stolen his former life and dragged him on this insane adventure. The man—if he could be called that—had murdered his father and Leopold had vowed to have his revenge.

  The events of the night before returned: the pact with Tulan Goodwin. His eyes darted to the magician. Could he possibly know? The thought curdled inside. Burning embers of nervousness sparked and spread.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Leopold asked, uneasy with the silence.

  ‘I want to speak with you,’ the magician replied coldly.

  ‘You could have waited until I woke.’ Leopold feigned annoyance, one eye on the fellow.

  ‘I did.’ There was never any rush to speak, no tell-tale inflections in the steady tone of his voice.

  ‘You could have waited in your own room, and not in here staring at me. It is strange you know. It’s not normal at all to behave the way you do. Has anyone told you that? I’m sure they have.’

  The magician ignored his complaints. ‘I am told of a disturbance last night.’

  ‘Truthseekers,’ Leopold said, swinging his feet out from under the bed-covers and straight into his waiting shoes.

  Lord Samuel took his time to digest Leopold’s reply, watching as the young Emperor pulled his clothes from the bedside table. His bag had finally been retrieved from the boat, and Leopold had a fresh change of familiar clothes to wear.

  ‘I heard there was trouble in my absence,’ the magician stated, looking to the window. ‘The guards tell me you left your room.’

  ‘I did,’ Leopold replied, and pulled his trousers over his underwear. He avoided the magician’s waiting gaze, those eyes unblinking, unnerving. ‘I didn’t know I was a prisoner.’

  ‘You are no prisoner, foolish boy. We are protecting you.’

  ‘I see our agreement has not lasted long.’ Leopold threw a hastily constructed look of annoyance the magician’s way. ‘You agreed not to call me that.’

  ‘There is more at stake here than your pride, Leopold. You would do well to remember that.’

  ‘You have no need to worry. The Truthseekers did not find me.’

  Lord Samuel grunted. ‘You are safe from them as long as you stay with me, but there are others who may wish to hurt you, fool boy. You are the Emperor of Turia now, and despite the world being in turmoil, I guarantee many would not want a return of the old Empire, and many would wish to seize your power. From now until the time you die, worry about your life. It is no longer yours to waste as you wish. It is a precious thing, with many fates riding upon it. You have to fight to keep it, so I suggest you put the odds in your favour and believe what I tell you, and do what I tell you to do!’

  The magician waited for a response that did not come. Leopold buttoned his shirt, his heart beating furiously, as he fought to maintain the illusion of calm. He knew his efforts were futile, and he felt that the magician could see his fearful heart pounding in his chest, as easily as if it were laid upon the table, fluttering naked on that polished timber.

  Without further word, Lord Samuel turned and quietly left the room.

  ****

  A pair of maids came to Leopold’s chamber to provide breakfast and another bath. They scrubbed him as his mother had not done in eight years or more—not since he came home covered in tar leaked from a barrel washed on the shore—and he had to sit and bear it, for t
hey ignored his protests. They apologised that they had not taken better care of him the previous evening. The discovery of the murdered body had them locked away for most of the night.

  The matronly women fawned over him and asked countless questions, about everything he had been doing all these years, and they gasped as they heard of his simple life. Bafflement marred their faces whenever he mentioned his father.

  ‘We served your father for twenty years apiece,’ one of the women told him, ‘and we were there when he died. He was killed on the steps of the palace, while you were still inside your mother’s womb. We saw it from the palace windows.’

  Leopold shook his head. ‘I’ve been with my father all this time,’ he affirmed.

  He caught the first old maid passing a raised eyebrow to the second. ‘Well, he was a kind gent for looking after you. In these dark days, such gallantry is hard to come by.’

  Leopold was set to argue with them further, and realised it would be futile. He would ask Lord Samuel the moment he saw him. He had no patience for all this confusion. Murderous magician or not, he would find out what was going on.

  He let the women continue their work of bathing and dressing him in outlandish clothes. Protesting made no difference, and they washed him from head to toe, ignoring his pleas to see to some parts himself. When they were done, they shoved him into leggings and shirtsleeves and buttoned him without regard for his physical discomfort, until he appeared the perfect image of a royal dandy.

  ****

  Captain Orrell appeared shortly afterwards, dressed in a splendid Turian officer’s uniform. It looked almost new.

  ‘Good morning, Captain,’ Leopold said as the man politely entered.

  ‘Emperor Leopold,’ he replied. ‘I trust you slept well, and that the ruckus did not inconvenience you too greatly.’