The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3)

by Michael Foster

  ‘What should I say?’

  ‘Simply say, “Samuel, you have found your son”. That should be easy for you to remember.’

  ‘But he doesn’t let me call him Samuel. I must call him Lord every time.’

  Lomar again became flustered. ‘Don’t bother me with nonsense, boy. I don’t care if he makes you call him Uncle. Just say it when the time comes. Can you do that simple thing?’

  Leopold nodded, making note that this man was easily agitated. ‘Won’t he know?’ he then asked. ‘He knows whatever I think almost before I think it. That’s how he caught Tulan before.’

  ‘Of course he does. He can read your mind, you fool. You cannot stop him from knowing I was here. The more you try not to think about it, the more you will shout it out to him, but he cannot know everything. There are tiny corners in your head where the most subtle of secrets can reside, if only you do not overtly bring them to light.’

  ‘What else should I do?’

  ‘Nothing for now,’ Lomar said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Just keep an eye on him, and learn who your real friends are, if any. His lies spread until everyone believes them. They may be innocent, but if they have fallen victim to his fantasies then they are dangerous to you. I give you one piece of advice.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘If you truly want to hurt him, if you truly want to see misery on his face, become close to him. You achieve nothing by being his enemy. As his friend you will learn what is closest to him, his secrets, and use them against him. Watch him fall in upon himself as you reveal what you were doing all along.’ Leopold nodded as he considered what he heard. ‘Trust me. I know it works … from experience. Now go on—get more to eat. You have a long voyage ahead of you and that pork smells particularly succulent.’

  ‘Wait. I would ask you first.’

  ‘Yes?’ Lomar said, his interest piqued.

  ‘Who is behind the Truthseekers. Who is killing all the magicians?’

  ‘I can see you already suspect or know. Of course, it is Samuel.’

  ‘But why? He is a magician, too. Why kill his own kind?’

  ‘You have seen the reason. With each magician he kills his strength increases. It is to be expected of demons. They eat the life of others, consuming it for potency. He is gathering power, readying for the confrontation he knows must come.’

  ‘Why are you helping me?’ Leopold also asked.

  ‘We have shared goals, Emperor Leopold. We both want to rid the world of this festering evil. We both want what is best.’ He glanced towards the dark shape of the Farstride upon the water. ‘It’s too dangerous for me to be here. I will trust you to tell me when the child is found, and don’t worry, I will take care of Samuel for you. I must be going. Now be careful; I’m not normally one to meddle with summonings, but I will bring a creature to occupy Samuel and cover my departure. Keep your distance.’ With that, he smiled like an old friend. His plain clothes flickered, black magician’s robes for an instant, and he was gone.

  ‘Egad,’ Leopold said to no one, before the sky over the sea flashed and terror arrived.

  Lightning rippled around a patch of clear night sky, an enormous shadow plummeted into the water with a foaming splash. Whatever manner of beast, it was huge; twice as long as the Farstride and luckily it fell beside the ship instead of upon it.

  People on the beach ran to the sea and looked out with concern, and screams rang out as the ocean bubbled. Gigantic snaking tentacles rose from the water beside the ship and a deep, resounding bellow sounded from the beast, reverberating from underwater. Everyone along the shore edged away.

  A black dart shot from the silhouette of the Farstride and it flew into the ocean, directly into the middle of the rising creature, to the centre of its writhing tentacles. The beast howled and its curling arms slapped around as it boiled back into the sea.

  Quietness prevailed. Those on the shore murmured nervously to each other and women sobbed. The small dark shape rose quietly from the water and returned to the Farstride and everything was as before.

  Well, thought Leopold. If that thing can’t kill him, I’m not even going to try.

  ****

  The next morning saw the Farstride raising her anchors and setting off again, with King Pantu’s people running and waving along the cliffs, showing their thanks, before disappearing into the jungle behind.

  Captain Merryweather skilfully steered the ship with his commands, following the islands, big and small, as far to the south-west as could be. After consulting their charts, they struck due south, leaving land in their wake.

  ‘The epic voyage begins,’ Lady Wind told them, gathered on the foredeck. ‘From here we will not make landfall until we find Koia. Let us hope for an uneventful trip.’

  ‘Emperor Leopold’s Crusade!’ Riggadardian announced loudly across the decks, and the men cheered in response.

  Leopold grinned, liking the sound of it. He must have looked too pleased, because the magician pinpointed him from afar, and came striding directly towards him with mischief in mind.

  ‘Emperor Leopold’s Crusade,’ the magician repeated, exaggerating the sound of it.

  ‘And what of it?’ Leopold replied curtly. ‘They are not my words; they were his.’

  ‘I notice you becoming accustomed to your new role. You’re wearing more of the outfits Riggadardian left for you.’

  ‘Again, what of it?’ Leopold asked suspiciously.

  ‘You’ll be wearing the yellow gown next. Your father only wore that as a spectacular prank that the nobles and gentry never understood, and like them, you’ll soon be parading about the deck and thinking it splendid.’

  ‘Do you have a point?’

  ‘I do,’ the magician said, traces of an evil smirk gathering about his lips like a distant, baneful storm. ‘Let’s see if you can comprehend it. Come with me.’ With that, he strode away towards the foredeck.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Leopold asked, trundling behind him.

  ‘Not far.’

  The magician led him to a point high on the deck, where a sailor was busy scrubbing, brush in hand and soapy bucket by his knees. The man noticed someone standing over him and, as he slowly raised his eyes to the form of Lord Samuel, he gulped aloud.

  ‘Sailor, you are dismissed,’ the magician told him. The man remained frozen. ‘Dismissed!’ The fellow found his feet and bolted away.

  ‘What am I to do?’ Leopold asked. The magician looked at the bucket and raise his eyebrows. ‘Scrub?’ Leopold asked tentatively.

  ‘That’s right.’

  Leopold gave out a heavy sigh. ‘Is this some jest? If so, I find it lacking in humour. You want me, the Emperor of Turia, to scrub the deck?’

  ‘More so when you put it like that.’

  ‘What if I refuse?’

  ‘Remember our pact, Leopold. It is our covenant. You cannot break it. I command, you obey. It is as simple as that. If you fail to comply, you will quickly regret it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare hurt me!’ Leopold declared.

  ‘I can make your life a nightmare without touching a hair on your head, Leopold—without even resorting to magic. I have been around long enough to know the inner workings of men—of all people—and let me tell you how transparent you are to me. I know your fears, your anxieties, your hopes and dreams. You scream them to me in your every gesture, as do all these witless, ignorant folk.’ He made a sweeping gesture behind him, indicating everyone in view across the ship. ‘Tempt me, and I will expose them. I assure you, Leopold, a human being can rapidly and very easily be reduced to a snivelling, pitiful wreck, and doing so is one of the few joys I have remaining. Do not test me in this.’

  Leopold glared at him, then slowly, he buckled to his knees. He knew the man was right. He knew the magician could do exactly as he threatened. Picking up the brush, he rubbed at the deck. Nearby crewmen watched on with curiosity.

  ‘If this is to teach me humility, it’s not necessary,’ Leopold declared.
<
br />   ‘Oh really?’

  ‘I have done this before. I have worked hard, every day of my life.’

  ‘That was before.’

  ‘Have you not seen me in the sails?’

  ‘But you like that,’ the magician stated. ‘I’ve noticed you watching others scrub the deck with disdain upon your face. You think it’s demeaning—a task for the lowest peasant, which only shows how little you know, because there are many more distasteful duties on board this ship, and I plan to make you intimate with them all. An emperor should know what kneeling feels like before he demands it of his people. Prepare to kneel as low as you can, Leopold. I thought this would be a good place to start.’

  ‘To start?’

  ‘Yes, Leopold. This is a long voyage. I do not want you getting bored.’ A knowing smirk curled into existence.

  ‘How long will you have me doing this?’

  ‘Long enough,’ was the magician’s reply. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re done.’ And off he went, leaving Leopold on his hands and knees.

  Word passed to everyone that Leopold was not to be assisted, under threat of punishment from him. They kept their distance. Commander Riggadardian came out, blustering and complaining, until Captain Orrell calmed him as always, leading him away and letting Leopold continue his work.

  Leopold was not to be defeated by the magician. He kept at it, until his knees ached and he had blisters on his hands, and he kept going after that, gritting his teeth and swearing under his breath.

  After several hours, Lord Samuel was standing silently by Leopold’s side once again.

  ‘Well?’ Leopold asked, rubbing his chin with a sopping wet sleeve.

  ‘Have you had enough?’ the magician asked.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Leopold said with relief, dropping his brush into the bucket with splash.

  ‘Then keep going,’ Samuel told him.

  ‘What!’

  ‘I said keep going. I don’t want to kill you; just scrub to the next chainplate. Then you can rest.’

  Leopold looked to where he was indicating. It meant another hour at least. ‘No,’ he stated defiantly, sitting back on his heels.

  ‘Yes,’ said Samuel, as he loomed over Leopold.

  One of them would give in, and it was inevitably the young Emperor who capitulated.

  He picked his brush from the bucket of grey water, and returned it reluctantly to the deck. Scrub, scrub, scrub, he went, grumbling and cursing all the while.

  ****

  The next few days followed without incident, while Leopold recovered from his soreness. Many crew—soldiers and sailors alike—suffered from sea sickness as the Farstride rolled between gargantuan waves; others experienced stomach cramps and a fever spread. The medics could not help, and it was only after Jessicah had pestered Samuel for the dozenth time, that the magician stormed from his quarters, and with a wave of his hand he declared them well. He stomped back to his den without another word, and without exception the afflicted improved within the hour.

  Toby was often scrambling about the decks and several times a day the crew caught him halfway up a mast pole or dangling over the railing, in danger of falling into the ocean. No amount of scolding or lecturing kept his feet flat on the ground. They may have whistled into the wind, for all the good it did. He smiled and laughed, jubilant at the angry faces of those who sought to rebuke him.

  Salu was often outdoors, standing in odd places—facing a wall, squatting by the crew as they went about their chores, totally inappropriate and hampering the men’s duties; he never took notice. He stood muttering, eyes clamped shut, mouth open and facing the wind, saturating himself with the sensations it brought. There was no return of the sense he had shown when defending Leopold from the witch: his mind lost in the wind and the sea.

  Lord Samuel thought that the old man would be of help to them, if only he could be brought back from his madness. Leopold wanted the same; despite his desire that everything the magician did should fail, he could not wish failure in that. Salu was simple and honest. Inside his mutterings Leopold felt consolation, and sleeping in the same room, he felt safe. Salu would never lie to him and never use him. Salu would act when needed as before, self-appointed as Leopold’s protector, never judging, never critical—a true hero of legend. He might even rescue him from the clutches of Samuel …

  ****

  A week into the great southern crossing, Leopold was returning to his cabin when, short of the doorway, he noticed the sound of conversation from inside. He edged nearer and heard the voice of the magician inside. Curious, he waited to overhear what was said.

  ‘Come now, you must be able to tell me more than that,’ Lord Samuel was insisting. ‘Where is all the power going if no one is claiming it?’

  A voice replied to his question, too muted to hear, and Leopold wondered who he could be talking to.

  ‘No, no,’ said Samuel, sounding impatient. ‘You said that already. Can’t you remember anything?’ He sighed loudly, audible even to Leopold. ‘Stop hovering out there, Leopold!’ the magician then called out. ‘You’re as stealthy as a camel on a four-poster bed. Come inside.’

  Leopold was not surprised that the magician sensed him easily, and strode into the room. Samuel was sitting on his bed, opposite old Salu.

  ‘Has he been speaking?’ Leopold asked with interest. ‘Can you get sense out of him?’

  Samuel groaned. ‘Little. I’ve been at him nearly every day. Rarely am I rewarded. Mostly, he is lost behind a fog of nonsense I don’t know how his brother put up with him. He drops a revelation before me without warning, and it drives me insane finding what it means. Other times he will respond to what I asked him days before, for him a moment later. Sometimes he answers questions I haven’t yet thought to ask, somehow knowing I will.’

  ‘What caused his madness?’ Leopold asked, watching the doddering old fellow.

  ‘Oh, he is not mad,’ Samuel said. ‘He merely sees the world differently. From an early age he was gifted, but became frustrated by what we call society, and he retreated inwards. Sometimes he returns to peek out at us, but cannot understand what his senses tell him. It is like us trying to understand the ways of the ants. They run in mad circles, pointlessly, but to them their every action is reasonable. They don’t notice the giants staring down at them until we tread upon their mound.’

  ‘So what are you hoping to discover?’

  ‘Anything. Anything that could help.’

  ‘I thought you had every detail finely planned.’

  ‘Of course not,’ the magician said indignantly. We are diving into chaos and hoping for the best. If any of us live it will be a miracle. We are mortal men facing immortal demons, Leopold.’

  ‘The crew talk. They say you are the cause of our troubles. They feel the demons inside of you, and they worry.’

  ‘Pah! They feel superstitions. The darkness inside me is different from the beasts that wreak terror upon the world. The monsters that stalk man are tools; wild animals summoned for destruction. Those inside of me are the spirits of true demons, devious and evil beings that seek to use me as their weapon. They have no bodies to inhabit and are safe as such, as long as I control and contain them.’

  ‘We are under siege from every direction,’ Leopold noted.

  ‘True, and it has never been this way before. We stand on a branching of the paths, poised to break free from the ways of countless millennia. Two of the Ancient Ones have been defeated. Their king—my son—is held captive by the last, and the world is in a hiatus until the situation is resolved.’

  Leopold held his tongue. The magician did not know, and he was not to let slip what Lomar had said. The Demon King was escaped and roaming free somewhere upon the world, and Lord Samuel did not know it.

  Samuel was set in his thoughts and spoke them aloud without abatement. ‘The creatures that roam the world free more souls with each day, and the power remains unclaimed ... a wasted harvest. I am guessing, when Lin is released, he will consume it. Tha
t is why I hurry to find Poltamir. Surely, he is after that power for himself. I would, if I were he, and we must stop him before he finds a way. Salu has answers, but he too is harbouring a grudge against me.’

  ‘Why? What did you do to him? I mean, apart from dragging him with us—which I suppose is enough for anyone to form a grievance.’

  ‘I killed his brother,’ Samuel said.

  ‘Well. That would be enough to get him offside. You killed my father and look how well we get along.’

  ‘That was different. His brother tried to kill me. I had no choice.’

  ‘You seem to have few choices but you manage to do a lot.’

  Samuel grunted. ‘I can see there is no talking sense into you, boy. I’ll leave you with the old goat. When Toby returns I will feel out of place amongst such intellectual titans. Three fools make good company.’

  With that, he stormed from the room, leaving Leopold greatly satisfied. The magician had kept him busy working over the ship nearly every single day; any small triumph in return was worth celebrating.

  When Samuel was long down the hall, Leopold laughed. ‘I never thought I’d score a victory over him. This is wondrous.’

  The old man was muttering louder and Leopold snapped his attention towards him, waiting for Salu to speak; the old fool continued, but no revelation fell from his lips.

  Leopold kicked off his boots and lay back and rested on his bed. His head hit his pillow and he breathed deeply, readying himself for sleep.

  Words broke the silence.

  ‘That was no victory,’ came the voice and Leopold sat up, bewildered by a voice unexpected.

  Salu was the only other present, yet he sat unmoving upon his bunk, quiet.

  Could it have been him?

  Leopold looked towards the doorway: soundly shut. He returned his gaze to the old man and peered closely. ‘Did you say something?’