The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy)

by Foster, Michael

  It was still dark when a bolt was drawn with a resounding clank and the cell door creaked inwards.

  ‘Samuel?’ came a questing voice.

  ‘Who is it?’ Samuel asked, sitting up as the hooded figure waited in the doorway.

  ‘It is I. Come, we must quickly be away.’

  Samuel stood, untangling himself from his thin blanket and peered closely at his rescuer. ‘Tulan!’ he exclaimed as the figure became discernible in the dark.

  Tulan put his finger to his lips, signalling for quiet and Samuel immediately nodded in understanding. The moustached magician stepped aside and Samuel followed him into the short dim corridor. The sweet tang of magic came immediately rushing back as Samuel passed over the threshold. He spelled away the cold and discomfort that had seeped into his bones over the night and at once felt like a man born anew.

  Several guards lay immobile on the floor. They were awake, but held tight in a cocoon of spells, unable to move, see or hear.

  ‘I must admit, I was surprised to hear you had returned to Cintar,’ Tulan said in hushed tones as they stepped through a second door and began down the many stairs of the Mage Tower. ‘But I was more surprised to learn you ventured out so foolishly. You’re only lucky that the Archmage decided to lock you up. He must have further plans for you, given that he could have just killed you on the spot.’

  ‘I owe you my thanks,’ Samuel returned. ‘When we’re good and safe I will tell you everything. Now, how will we get out of here?’

  ‘I can’t risk being seen with you and I only have a scant few moments to spare. You will have to make through the kitchens and find your way out the palace gates. I have a friend waiting there, a short fellow with a green cap. You can’t miss him. He will lead you somewhere safe, but it’s better you don’t speak with him. Once safe, don’t show your face outdoors for any reason. I will send word of your whereabouts to your friend, Master Goodfellow. Keep hidden. If you pass any magicians in the street, don’t panic and run away like a madman this time. You have some time up your sleeve before your escape will be discovered, but you should certainly not dally.’

  Samuel made an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll try to remember that. No one has escaped from the Mage Cell in a long time, as far as I have heard,’ Samuel said, ‘so I expect it will cause quite a stir.’

  ‘No one has been put in the Mage Cell for a long time,’ Tulan corrected. ‘And, yes, the Archmage will stop at nothing once he finds that you have escaped.’ Tulan stopped as they reached the base of the tower. ‘Now, you go on ahead. This is where I must leave you. There is one more thing. If you are discovered, no matter what happens, don’t mention my involvement. I have a lot to risk over this—more than you could know.’

  ‘I understand,’ Samuel said.

  ‘It’s very important. Tell them you overcame the cell guard yourself—tell them anything, but don’t tell them about me. It is only because we are good friends that I dared to help you at all.’

  Samuel nodded again. ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Very well,’ Tulan said, looking over his shoulder nervously. He went to walk away, but stopped once more. ‘You should leave the city at once. Go back to wherever you have been, for your own sake, Samuel. It is far too dangerous for you here.’ Then he afforded himself the luxury of a smile. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ With that, he quickly strode down the side passage and away.

  Escaping the palace was surprisingly simple. Once he neared the kitchens, Samuel began meeting more and more palace staff, but no one paid him more attention than a ‘My Lord’ or a quick curtsey as they hurried on with their duties. Even when he passed through the kitchens themselves, where teams of burly cooks with stained aprons were sweating over pots and chopping boards, he was afforded barely more than a glance.

  Once out through the kitchen entrance and into the gardens, Samuel thought he should make his pace seem less hurried, and tried to adopt some kind of elongated stroll. It seemed to achieve at least some of the desired effect, for he managed to pass a squad of marching guards without incident. He stepped directly out through the palace gates and stood momentarily on the street, looking about for Tulan’s friend. He did spy quite a short man standing some distance away, wearing a tight green cap and leaning idly against a wall. He looked vaguely familiar. Still, seemed to be the only one fitting Tulan’s description, so Samuel decided he must be the one. Stopping just short of the man, Samuel cleared his throat. The fellow glanced up and, remembering Tulan’s advice not to speak with him, and not knowing what else to do, Samuel gave his friendliest smile.

  The man showed no hint of recognition, but began away at once. Samuel hesitated a moment, at first wondering if there were some mistake, but then he realised that Tulan’s friend was only trying to maintain some secrecy. He started after the man, keeping some pepper in his stride just to keep up. They weaved through half the city like that, with Samuel often needing to bob his head above the crowds just to keep track of the man’s green cap. It was no help that the man was really quite short and often vanished for long periods amongst the throngs of people.

  Finally, long after Samuel had begun again wondering if this was even the right man or not, the fellow stepped aside into the entrance of a dilapidated-looking building. Samuel paused a moment in the doorway, then started up the short stairs after him. The green-capped man was waiting at the top of the first flight of creaking old stairs and, as Samuel neared him, he reached over and opened the door beside him. Without so much as a word, he squeezed past Samuel, went back down the stairs and disappeared back into the street.

  Samuel guessed he was supposed to wait inside, so he poked his head through the doorway. Inside was a featureless, single room. To the rear, Samuel could see a small squatting chamber with a low open window, built above the outside gutter. There was also a table, having only three and a half of its four legs and two aged chairs. Otherwise, the room was empty. With some trepidation, Samuel stepped inside and pushed the door back shut behind him. There were a couple of iron brackets on each side of the doorframe, and a length of wood leaning beside it, which Samuel put into place, barring the door from opening.

  He poked around the room for a while, but, aside from the table, chairs and toilet, there was little else to investigate. He only hoped the others would come and find him sometime soon. It was not too different from his cell—small and confining—but at least here he could still feel his magic. From out of the window he could see the palace towers jutting into the sky, just visible through the haze and smoke of the city. In one of them, his escape had probably already been discovered.

  Samuel stayed alone in the small room all day. He occasionally peered carefully out from the window. One time, he saw several black-cloaked magicians pushing determinedly through the crowds. Whether they sought him or not, he could not tell, but it was better not to take any chances—he kept his head well inside from that point on. Eventually, however, being overcome by hunger, Samuel had to creep outside to fetch himself something to eat and drink. He kept his eye out for magicians all the while and only felt safe once he had scurried back up the stairs and had his door barred firmly shut once again.

  After a long day of uneventful waiting and a long night of trying to sleep on the rough floorboards, Samuel was roused by a soft tapping at the door. He rolled to his feet as softly as he could and tiptoed to the door. Again, the tapping sounded and a soft voice called, ‘Hello? Anyone in there?’

  ‘Eric?’ Samuel asked back through the door. His own voice sounded thin and strained from the lack of sleep.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ came the reply and Samuel quickly lifted the bar from the door and opened it. He was greeted by the grinning face of Eric Goodfellow dressed in commoner’s garb.

  ‘Eric! What are you doing here?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘I’ve come to join you,’ Goodfellow replied, stepping in past Samuel and shutting the door quickly behind. ‘Lord Goodwin sent word that you had escaped. You wouldn’t believe how mu
ch trouble you’ve caused! You’d think you had stolen the Emperor’s crown itself from all the kerfuffle outside. The Archmage has set the whole Order into a frenzy to find you. They came asking questions yesterday, trying to find you or your accomplice. Lord Goodwin said the palace itself had been turned upside down. It was obvious they would not stop harassing everyone until they found whoever helped you escape, so I decided to become him. Once I am reported missing, they will have their accessory and lessen their focus on everyone else—or so I hope.’

  ‘But how did you find me?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Oh,’ Goodfellow responded. ‘This friend of Lord Goodwin’s led me here. A strange chap. Very quiet.’

  ‘Ah,’ Samuel said. He was still unused to hearing Tulan referred to as Lord Goodwin. The title seemed to sit so strangely on the man whom Samuel knew best for travelling the countryside and belittling the establishment. ‘But you have resigned yourself to my fate, should we be caught,’ Samuel noted. ‘Who knows what they will do to us if they find us.’

  ‘Yes,’ Goodfellow admitted, nodding, ‘but I believe it will make our overall task easier. The others will be able to act more freely.’

  Samuel conceded and they sat at the wobbly table.

  ‘We may have to do something about this room when we get the chance,’ Goodfellow noted. ‘This is appalling.’

  ‘Or get some blankets, at least. I froze half to death last night.’

  ‘How did you come by this place?’ Goodfellow asked.

  ‘Tulan’s man led me here. I have no idea what he is doing with such a place,’ Samuel admitted, ‘but I’m assuming we are free to use it. I’ll remember to ask him next time, but I’m not sure we’ll even get an answer.’

  ‘So, what happened when you saw the Archmage?’ Goodfellow asked, brushing his sandy hair from his eyes. ‘I take it all did not go well, judging from the fact he threw you in the Mage Cell.’

  ‘He accused me of being a traitor,’ Samuel began. ‘He said everything was happening for the good of the Empire and that Grand Master Anthem was a traitor, too, for resisting their efforts to go to war. They’re planning a full invasion of Garteny and the Order is pivotal in providing victory over King Otgart’s forces—at least, it was before Ash returned with the Argum Stone.’

  ‘And I assume you didn’t tell him you appreciated his idea?’

  Samuel laughed. ‘That’s right. Before I knew it, he used the Staff of Elders to knock me senseless. When I woke up, I was in the Mage Cell.’

  ‘Is it true what they say about the Mage Cell—that you can’t use magic at all?’ Goodfellow asked.

  ‘It’s worse,’ Samuel confirmed, a shudder tickling his spine. ‘Not only can you not use magic, you can barely feel it. It made me feel so lost and hopeless. I hope I never see that wretched place again.’

  ‘Do you think we’re safe here?’ Goodfellow asked, glancing towards the window.

  ‘Well, they won’t be able to find me,’ Samuel said. ‘Nobody can—but now you’re here we may have to think of something. In a way, this room is well chosen, as the sheer number of people outside will help conceal any magician’s presence. You even surprised me just now. Given time, however, they may be able to find us. We may have to ask Master Glim or Lomar if they know any good concealment spells.’

  Goodfellow nodded and leaned back in his rickety chair. He looked to all the corners of the room, and at the sorry-looking excuse for a privy that opened up over the rear alleyway. ‘So…what do we do?’ he finally asked.

  ‘We need to wait until we can speak with Tulan. Perhaps he will have some idea of what to do. The Archmage said the war is inevitable now and that they will use the Argum Stone to ensure victory.’

  ‘Is it truly that powerful?’

  ‘So the Archmage seems to believe,’ Samuel replied, ‘but I have no idea what it can actually do. All I know is that it could negate my spells entirely. Perhaps they can find some way to harness that power, or perhaps they have some other use for it entirely.’

  Goodfellow sneaked out later that day and returned holding a basket with enough food and water to last them a few days, plus a small satchel containing some common clothes for Samuel, which he promptly changed into. It was another day later, after almost insufferable boredom, when another knock sounded on the door and Samuel felt a familiar presence on the other side.

  ‘It’s Tulan,’ called a voice from outside, just as Goodfellow was beginning to panic. ‘Open the door.’

  They promptly let him in, surprised to see that even he was dressed in common clothes.

  ‘We cannot afford to let anyone notice magicians coming and going from here,’ Tulan mentioned on noting their glances. ‘It’s quite some trouble to find some place to secretly change clothes so I won’t be able to come here very often in the future, if at all. You’ve made things much more difficult for me, Samuel. And I see that you have ignored my advice to leave entirely.’

  ‘Are you aware that the Emperor is preparing to invade Garteny?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Of course I am. Why else do you think I’m here? My life was once relatively carefree and even occasionally enjoyable. Now I’m eternally locked up in meetings and discussions and doing things I vowed I’d never do again—all in a vain attempt to stop exactly that.’

  ‘We had all heard the rumours,’ Goodfellow spoke, ‘but we originally understood the Gartens were set to invade the Empire, not the other way around.’

  ‘That’s what the Emperor wanted you to think,’ Tulan explained. ‘The average Turian would have no problem whatsoever with the Emperor going to war, but the territories are another matter. He learned the hard way that the outlands must be carefully managed if they are not to fall back into disarray. A sudden return to war could bring disquiet and opportunity for rebellion to the territories, so better to make it seem like a defensive action. Once the invasion begins in full, he will proclaim that Garteny is a rogue state and must be conquered once and for all. Then, the Emperor can do as he wishes.’

  ‘That’s horrid,’ Goodfellow stated.

  ‘Of course it is,’ Tulan responded, ‘but it’s also very clever. That’s what politics is all about.’

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘There’s not much I can do,’ Tulan replied, ‘as it’s difficult. There are some on the Council who secretly do not favour the Emperor’s plans, but do not dare say so. The Emperor is all-powerful. No one can tell him what he can and cannot do. All we can do is make gentle suggestions.’

  ‘Could the Magicians’ Council just refuse to grant the Order’s assistance?’

  Tulan laughed and shook his head. ‘Certainly not! That would be the end of us! We exist by the pure grace of the Emperor. One word from him and the Order vanishes. It’s only while we are useful to him that the Order can exist at all. That is why I have been progressing with the utmost care. Given enough time, I am hoping to turn this situation around, but all this sudden commotion is the last thing I need at the moment.’

  ‘What about the Archmage? Doesn’t he have any leverage?’ Goodfellow questioned.

  ‘He’s more intent on the war than anyone.’

  ‘So I have learned,’ Samuel noted.

  ‘But it doesn’t matter now,’ Tulan then stated. ‘Despite Master Dividian’s best efforts, it looks as though he has not been able to ready enough new magicians to support the Emperor’s armies. The Council has been debating the matter every day for long months, and it finally seems that the Emperor is rescinding his request for the Order’s assistance in battle. Today he told us we are no longer needed.’

  ‘Do you mean it?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘Does that mean it’s all over?’

  ‘Yes, of course. So there’s no need to be making so much trouble. If you give it some time, I’m sure you will see the Order returning to its old self soon enough.’

  ‘So the Emperor no longer wants magicians to go to battle?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.

  ‘That’s w
hat I’ve heard,’ Tulan said.

  ‘And the invasion of Garteny is truly cancelled?’

  ‘The Emperor’s forces can’t hope to assail the fortified Garten cities. The Order’s assistance was the pivotal point of his invasion plan. I can’t see how any war could go ahead at this point. Turian losses would be extreme. No magic equals no invasion.’

  ‘What I’m asking is, are you sure about it? I mean, are the troops all packing up and going home, or are they still massing along the border?’

  Tulan looked confounded. ‘Well…I don’t know. It just seemed obvious that the invasion can’t go ahead. Garten defences are just too strong. That’s what has been stopping it all these years. The Emperor will just have to come up with some other plan, or give up for good.’

  ‘Oh. Then we may still have a problem. While I was in Tindal, I met Master Ash,’ Samuel began to explain, ‘and he had unearthed an ancient artefact called the Argum Stone.’

  ‘Yes, I heard something about it,’ Tulan admitted. ‘They put it in the High Tower. I thought it was just some old relic.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Samuel continued. ‘I believe it is a source of magic from the time of the Ancients and the Archmage believes the same. I think you’ll find the Emperor now has the advantage he needs to break the Gartens. When I spoke to the Archmage, he seemed quite confident that the war was going ahead and I don’t think he cares if the Order lends their assistance or not.’

  Tulan’s smile began to falter. ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying this relic, the Argum Stone, could potentially be powerful enough that the Emperor doesn’t need the Order’s help any more. In fact, I think he’s painfully aware of how problematic the Order can be and has decided it may be better to do without us altogether. With the Argum Stone and the Staff of Elders together, who knows what the Archmage could achieve?’