The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy)

by Foster, Michael

  Samuel looked towards the camp and noticed a few men gesturing and looking towards him, so he started casually back towards Jess. He remounted the eager animal and set her away at a trot before he could be questioned.

  So, it seemed that Ash was intent on retrieving this buried object. Whatever it was, it was obviously of considerable value for Ash and the Circle to have been searching for it for so intently and for so long. There was something about it that sparked a faint memory, and Samuel’s magician’s instincts took control of him. He was sure there was something about the object in his notes and the thought of discovering some ancient relic had him so excited as to temporarily set aside his revenge of Ash. The thing was still trapped firmly in stone and would not be going anywhere for a while at least. Samuel guessed he would have time to do some research before returning to finally kill the man who had slain his family. The thought had him spurring Jess on with excitement.

  Samuel was home by midday. He could hear Mrs Down pottering around inside as he removed Jess’ saddle and laid it across one of the round wooden beams beside the house. Jess whinnied and Samuel stroked the soft sheen on her neck and whispered to her reassuringly as she slurped from the water trough eagerly. The sun had warmed enough to dispel the morning chill and the crickets were chirping in unison all around. High on the hill, animals were milling around in small groups, as they liked to do. A faint, cracking noise echoed up from one of the far and misty valleys, where someone was felling great giants of trees to make way for more pasture.

  The door creaked as Samuel stepped inside and Mrs Down looked up from her new spinning wheel. Her hands busily stretched out the wool on her lap as it was pulled into a long strand and wound around the large bobbin. Her foot was in an ever-pumping motion, sending the smooth wheel around and around for hours on end.

  ‘Samuel!’ she exclaimed. ‘How was it with the Count?’

  ‘Fine,’ Samuel returned with a smile. ‘I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I see to something.’ He went immediately to his old satchel that hung in the corner. He drew out his wallet of notes and scrawlings and began to quickly search through the pages. There was something familiar about that artefact, and Samuel was sure he had seen it before, perhaps in some tome within the Great Library. He hoped he had possessed the sense to make a note of it at the time. ‘Is Simpson up on the hill?’

  ‘Of course he is,’ she answered, pulling off the swollen bobbin and replacing it with another.

  It was there, the object, scribbled on the tattered corner of a page—a rounded tablet bearing a six-pointed star, fatter in the middle and thinner at the edge. Samuel could not be sure, but it looked to be the same thing that Ash had found. He quickly read his notations that circled the drawing. He had found a few passages on it long before in the book of Garrum. The Argum Stone, it was called in the Old Tongue. From the little that Samuel had recorded, it seemed to be some relic from the Age of the Ancients. He had jotted a note confirming that the relic was a seal-stone—only a locking piece for another item that it could provide or reveal. Without having a way to unlock the Argum Stone, the true power within it was dormant and useless.

  ‘What makes you look so grim, Samuel?’ Mrs Down asked.

  ‘I have to return to Gilgarry tomorrow,’ he replied.

  ‘You enjoyed it that much, then?’

  ‘On the contrary. It’s a dreadful place, but there is something I must attend to.’

  ‘Very well, then. Why don’t you go see your young lady friend? That should cheer you up.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Samuel agreed.

  He left shortly. Normally, he would have been grinning from ear to ear at the thought of seeing Leila, but today, a feeling of dread was hanging over him like an ill omen.

  Fortunately, Leila’s father was not at home and so, with a giggle from Leila, they went outside for a walk together, darting between the homes and following the narrow, muddy paths between each wall.

  ‘How was your visit with the Count, Samuel?’ she asked as they strolled down toward the river.

  ‘He and his court are just a bunch of old drunkards,’ Samuel declared.

  ‘Of course,’ she affirmed, shaking her head at his ignorance. ‘All the nobles are. What else do they have to do, but count their money and drink themselves silly? Why do you think I don't want to marry any of them?’

  Samuel smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

  They went down to the river and lay on the grass under the warm sun. They began kissing, and, one thing leading to another, it was not long until they were naked in each other’s arms with the sun on their bare flesh.

  It was barely an hour later, as they were still entwined in each other and Samuel was half asleep, when the sound of hoof-beats approaching from up near the road roused them both. The two of them began pulling their clothes on in a frenzy, with Leila giggling almost hysterically as Samuel became tangled in his own trousers, nearly sending himself rolling into the river. Two men began leading their animals down towards them and Samuel and Leila tried to look innocent, each sharing a smirk.

  They stood and greeted the strangers.

  ‘Good day to you, gentlemen,’ Samuel greeted. ‘What brings you to this beautiful spot?’

  ‘Actually, we came looking for you,’ one man said, ‘if you be Samuel. The village folk said you might be found this way.’

  He was a middle-aged and burly man, with a crooked nose and long white scar running from his eye down to his neck. His companion was younger and much scrawnier by comparison, with an Adam’s apple poking out from the front of his neck like a child’s fist.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Samuel said, holding Leila’s hand. It irked him somewhat that their whereabouts seemed to be widely known.

  ‘I understand you may be able to help me with an awful ache in my joints. It’s been said that you have quite a way with such things.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Samuel said, hoping to see the pair off as quickly as possible.

  He let go of Leila, who sat back down to watch the river crawl by while Samuel did his work. The scarred man stepped closer for Samuel’s inspection, while his scrawny companion took hold of their horses.

  ‘If you could take a look at my knee,’ he said, wincing and bending to roll up his trouser leg. ‘The rotten thing’s been awful sore for some time.’

  Samuel nodded and bent over to look closer. Strangely, the joint seemed perfectly fine. His aura was clear and untarnished, and Samuel was just thinking ‘that’s strange’ to himself when a movement caught his eye. A dagger came up towards his belly and Samuel flung himself away, just barely escaping. A scream sounded from Leila and Samuel twirled around, off balance, to see if she was harmed. She had her palms by her half-open mouth. Her face was pale with fright, for she had turned just in time to see the attack.

  ‘Damnation!’ the man swore, holding the long knife in one hand. His scarred face was screwed up with anger and he flicked his trouser leg back down around his ankle before coming after Samuel. He took another swing with the gleaming blade and Samuel contorted away once more, ducking and twisting to keep out of reach. The man was a skilled killer, judging by his actions, but Samuel was quick as a rabbit if need be. Years of moving in the strange ways of the summoning stances had forged in him excellent balance and coordination.

  The other scrawny man still held the horses and grinned with missing teeth. ‘Aha, Bardick!’ he called out. ‘He’s spryer than you, for sure! Catch him, quick!’’

  Samuel had barely a spare instant to think as the scar-faced man continued with a flurry of jabbing and waving attacks, grunting with each effort.

  ‘Samuel!’ Leila yelled, clutching her hands to her chest.

  ‘Stay back!’ Samuel spat out. Thankfully, it seemed they were only interested in killing him and were not interested in her. Rolling aside, Samuel had enough time to gather himself. In the space of a heartbeat, instinct took over and he shot out a spell that held the man fast—as rigid as a statue.

&nbs
p; The scrawny man gawked in disbelief as Samuel calmly dusted himself off before taking the dagger from the man called Bardick’s rigid hand.

  ‘What’re ya doin’, ya fool?’ the scrawny man yelled out, before Samuel spelled him as rigid as his companion.

  It took only a moment to enter both their minds and begin sifting through their memories as easily as flipping through the pages of a book. Shortly, Samuel withdrew from both of them to find Leila sobbing at his side and calling his name.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her calmly. ‘They can’t hurt us now.’

  Leila gave a shriek as the scrawny man began moving, turned, and walked away, leading his horses back up the slope and towards the roadway.

  ‘Samuel,’ Leila cried at his side, clutching Samuel's arm. ‘Where is he going?’

  ‘Back to Gilgarry. These men are assassins, sent to kill me. I have put a spell on that man and now he will try to kill his master instead—a magician called Ash. I doubt he’ll succeed, but it will be a fitting end for whichever of them fails.’

  ‘What about this man?’ she asked, looking at the one called Bardick with alarm.

  Samuel took Leila squarely by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. Go home,’ her told her darkly and pulled her hands away as she tried to cling to him. ‘Please. Your father will be home soon. I will send word later. I need to be alone with this man for a time. I’m going to give him something he deserves and I would rather you did not see.’

  She stepped back and nodded, sensing the venom in his dark mood, and gathered up her shoes. She hurried from the riverbank and up towards the road without turning back.

  ‘You have no choice, but to answer me,’ Samuel said to Bardick, pointing a finger to the man’s nose. ‘I want you to listen carefully to every word I say. Do you understand?’

  Bardick nodded as well as he could—as much as Samuel’s spell would allow him. When inside another being’s mind, time can pass strangely, and a host of memories can be observed in only a moment. This man had committed foul deeds aplenty in his life, as Samuel had learned. Such vile acts filled his past that Samuel wondered how the man could live with himself, but Bardick had enjoyed every moment. There had been an image of Ash, talking to Bardick and to the other scrawny cut-throat—Olliander.

  ‘Some magician has turned up from the Order,’ Ash had said. ‘I want you two to go and find him and get rid of him. I don’t want any trouble. He looks harmless enough—just a young upstart, but you had better take care of him quickly, just to be sure. Stick his body in a ditch somewhere or do with it as you will—I don’t care about the details.’

  At that, Olliander had turned to Bardick with a perverse smile, and Bardick’s mind had filled with gleeful expectation.

  There had been all kinds of other thoughts and memories flashing around in Bardick’s twisted mind, but somehow Samuel’s attention had been drawn to one particular scene of grisly murder. It had become apparent that Bardick and Samuel had already met, many years before.

  Bardick had changed over the years—older, uglier, meaner—but time had not been able to fix his crooked nose or erase the long, white scar from his face that had flashed in the moonlight on that night long ago.

  Dark memories of his mother’s screams and his father’s blank, staring eyes came back to Samuel like a creeping ghoul. He could feel the bitter taste of hatred rising in his belly.

  ‘When I was a boy,’ Samuel said, choking back tears, ‘you helped kill my family. Do you remember that?’

  Bardick's eyes showed no recognition.

  ‘You came into my house and you killed my family. You tried to kill me, but I jumped into the river and escaped. I was just a boy at the time, but I’m sure you remember—I saw it in your head. Do you remember who I am?’

  Slowly, realisation appeared on the man’s face and Bardick managed to nod just a fraction.

  ‘You were the boy,’ Bardick gasped, compelled by Samuel’s spells to answer. ‘—the boy that escaped that night.’

  ‘I was. What has happened to the rest of you—the others that killed my family?’

  The man’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He was fighting Samuel’s spell, trying not to answer

  ‘Answer!’ Samuel demanded.

  ‘Some are dead,’ Bardick said, shaking his head slowly. ‘The others…I don’t know,’ he trailed off. Tears began to run from his eyes.

  ‘How many others have you killed?’ Samuel yelled, feeling the wetness of tears flowing down his cheeks. ‘How many others have you murdered!’

  ‘Many,’ the man gasped, with drivel dripping from his lips.

  Bardick’s mind was breaking under the force of the spell. He was resisting the compulsion to answer and it was destroying his mind. ‘What do you know of Ash’s plans?’ Samuel then asked, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, trying to keep himself composed.

  Bardick shook his head in confusion. Perhaps he did not know a man called Ash.

  ‘What of Mr Cervantes?’ Samuel asked, but Bardick could not answer.

  The cut-throat gave a rattling gasp and slumped to the ground, stone dead.

  Samuel shook his head. He had done his best to set a suitable spell of control, but the human mind was just too complicated and fragile. He kicked Bardick’s body over with his boot, over and over until it rolled into the river with a splash and began floating away with the slow waters. Samuel picked the man's cursed dagger from the grass and threw it in after him. He did not know if the other scrawny fellow, Olliander, would also suffer such a fate, but neither did he care. The man would either kill Ash or die himself and Samuel could quite happily live with either of those outcomes.

  Leila! Samuel suddenly thought, turning to look up the grassy slope and shielding his eyes from the bright sun. At once, he clambered up to the dusty road and broke into a run. He raced as fast as his legs would carry him until he reached the Sallow house and burst in through the front door.

  There was a shrill scream as he bumped straight into Leila.

  ‘Shh,’ she said, putting a finger to her lips. ‘Father's out in the yard. What happened to that man?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘I was so worried,’ she whimpered, throwing her arms around him. ‘I thought they would kill you.’

  ‘A man in Gilgarry sent them to kill me. He will keep trying until he succeeds.’

  ‘What will you do?’ she whispered into his ear and Samuel could feel her heart tapping against his chest.

  ‘I must kill him first. I will go at once. I don’t think his men will be so easy to overcome the next time. They will be better prepared once they realise I am not as harmless as they assumed.’

  He drew himself from her embrace and took a step away. ‘Take care, Leila,’ he told her. ‘I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you. I will return soon.’

  She had tears in her eyes and stepped after him, but Samuel backed away.

  ‘I must go,’ he said, and stepped out the door. He had wanted to hug her again, but if he had his way, he would never have left her embrace. At a time like this, other issues demanded his attention. It was time to kill.

  He walked down the street to where he had left Jess and did not look back. Some village people greeted him as he passed, but Samuel could only nod to them in return. As he rode out of Lenham, Samuel realised that the entire village must know about his relationship with Leila by now. It was painfully obvious to anyone but a fool, with all his comings and goings from her house and their frequent meetings. It would not be long until her father found out and then there would be another problem to deal with—but that was another matter for another time. First, he would deal with Ash.

  It was well after dark when Samuel crept near the camp. Small fires were burning around the tents where men drank and ate their dinners or crept off to relieve themselves in the chilly paddock. Samuel carefully probed the encampment with his senses, but he could feel no trace of magicians or Ash’s
curious aura. With little else to go on, he turned his attention to the artefact in the pit. The moon was only a slim crescent overhead, and so Samuel walked casually to the digging’s edge, hoping no one would pay him any mind in the darkness. Looking down, he could see the shape of the tablet below, reflecting in the moonlight. The great round shape was completely revealed now, lying flat on the pit floor, chiselled free of its stone prison. No one had yet noticed him, so he took hold of the nearest ladder and descended into the pit rung by rung, until the last step had his boots crunching onto the gritty soil and stones at the pit’s bottom. Down here, the pit seemed much deeper than it appeared and all sound from above had ceased. The temperature had dropped considerably and Samuel felt a shiver dance up his spine.

  He squatted over the object and carefully ran his hands over its cool surface. It seemed to be made from some perfect, grey stone—almost metallic in texture— cold and hard to the touch. Even this close, the object still revealed no trace of power and Samuel wondered if the thing was really the artefact from his notes, or just some old decorative sculpture of fanciful design. His fingers traced the edge of the six-pointed star. There was no hint of magic to the thing, but to Samuel’s instincts it still seemed somehow…powerful.

  Carefully, Samuel formed a Lifting spell, and cast it around the great object, for he intended to raise the artefact and turn it over for further scrutiny. Strangely, his spell slipped right off, leaving the object sitting firmly in place. He tried again, intensifying his efforts, but again his weaves would not hold. Intrigued, Samuel leaned closer to examine the thing. He dared not try a more powerful spell, for he did not want to raise the attention of Ash or his men. If he was caught down in this pit unprepared, he would not stand much of chance.

  Tapping its surface with his fingers, Samuel could only feel awe at such an artefact, for it somehow could resist his magic altogether. He was beginning to believe it really was the Argum Stone, for he had never before heard of anything that could defy magic in such a way. It was little wonder Ash was after it. If someone could learn the secrets of its magic-defying properties, it could have great consequence upon the world. For now, however, there was nothing Samuel could do. Only ropes and hard work would be able to raise the thing. Being able to do little by himself, Samuel decided it was time to return his attention to killing Ash.