The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy)

by Foster, Michael

  Tulan’s jaw literally dropped open. He stood and began pacing up and down the small room, rubbing at his eyes. ‘Hell’s bells, this is worse news than I could have feared,’ he stated. He stopped and looked to Samuel and Goodfellow, his eyes already red-rimmed from all the rubbing. He looked suddenly devastated. ‘I can’t believe it. I was foolish to think we had won so easily. What can I do now?’

  ‘There’s no need to panic,’ Samuel urged him. ‘Not yet. As far as we know, the Argum Stone is still locked up inside the High Tower. The Archmage has not figured out its workings, so we still may have time. From what I understand, the Argum Stone will need to be properly readied before it can be used at all. I suspect this has not happened yet. At the very least, I suspect that if such a powerful object was used in earnest, we magicians would feel it.’

  ‘Yes. Perhaps, you are right. Samuel, I need to find out more about this Argum Stone. What else do you know?’

  ‘That’s all,’ Samuel admitted. ‘The thing is immune to magical effect, but even that could be because the object is in a dormant state. Once awakened, it could potentially be another Staff of Elders. All this is only suspicion. I would need some time with the thing and we need more information. We should search the Great Library, or seek advice from the most learned of the Order.’

  ‘No. You two can’t risk going to the School of Magic. It’s being closely watched.’

  ‘So what, then?’ Goodfellow asked.

  ‘If they haven’t been able to awaken the Argum Stone by now, I’m sure they are hastily working on it,’ Samuel mused. ‘Ash seems to have some knowledge of the Ancient Lick, so I would guess he is the one doing most of the work. Somewhere he has found some information about the Ancients that no one else has come upon or he wouldn’t have found the thing in the first place. The only way to stop the war now is to stop them from unlocking the dormant power of that relic, or else to steal it away from them altogether.’

  ‘Lord Jarrod has just left the city this morning,’ Tulan stated. ‘Some say he has returned to Hammenton. There was once a small magic school there, but it was closed some time ago and converted into a retreat for research and transcription of the most ancient texts. Lord Jarrod runs the place. It’s possible he has returned there to unearth such information as you suggest.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Samuel agreed. ‘If only the Grand Master were here. I’m sure he would be able to help us.’

  ‘Anthem?’ Tulan queried.

  ‘Yes. I’m sure he would know something.’

  ‘Very well. I will try to contact him.’

  ‘Contact him?’ Samuel asked with disbelief. ‘In Garteny?’

  ‘Oh, no. He’s not in Garteny,’ Tulan responded. ‘He never would have gone there and I doubt King Otgart would let him return in any account. He’s not far away at all, on the isle of Dunbar, where he can keep an eye on the city.’

  ‘He is? How do you know?’

  ‘You can’t spend as much time on the road as I have without getting to know some people, Samuel. Anthem is quite good at remaining hidden, but not perfect. Eventually, word of his hiding place made its way through my network of contacts to me.’

  Samuel laughed. ‘Wonderful! Could he get here soon?’

  ‘Yes, he could be here in a few days—if he wanted to. It’s very dangerous for him now. He has made a great enemy of the Archmage. There is quite a decent price on his head.’

  ‘The Archmage would do that?’ Goodfellow asked.

  ‘Certainly,’ Tulan replied. ‘And often has. The Order has its own secret members who do all the Archmage’s dirty work; hired killers, thieves, assassins—even magicians.’

  ‘People like Ash,’ Samuel noted sourly.

  Tulan nodded. ‘Exactly, and much worse.’

  ‘I’m sure he will come,’ Samuel asserted. ‘The Grand Master would jump at the chance to stop this war.’

  ‘As you say,’ Tulan responded. ‘I will try to get word to him, but I do not know him as well as you do. He will either come or he won’t. I guess it’s up to him.’

  ‘But we should search the Great Library in the meantime. The chances are slim, but we may find something useful there. Any information on the relic could prove useful.’

  ‘If we can get word to Eric Pot, he can go there without raising suspicions,’ Goodfellow suggested.

  ‘Your friend?’ Tulan asked. ‘Yes, that will have to do. I will send word to him at once.’

  ‘With your green-capped friend?’ Goodfellow enquired.

  ‘That’s right. He’s quite the useful sort.’

  ‘You seem to have some secrets of your own, Lord Goodwin,’ Samuel noted. ‘Perhaps, one day, you will have to explain all your secretive associates and safehouses to us.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Tulan replied, ‘but not too soon. When this is all done. Now we have much to do. I will send further word when it is safe to meet again. Let us hope we have some time before the relic can be used. We must stop this war at all costs.’ He looked grim at the thought. ‘Otherwise many good lives will be lost.’

  With that, they bade each other goodbye and Tulan slipped out the door.

  ‘Lord Goodwin seems to be an interesting fellow,’ Goodfellow noted.

  ‘So I am beginning to learn,’ Samuel replied, ‘but also I trust him. I trust him like a brother.’

  And they waited in their tiny hideaway, with little else to do but talk as the hours passed slowly by.

  Samuel soon grew restless. He dared not practise his spells for fear of being discovered and so he resigned himself to sitting with Goodfellow in the tiny room, and jotting down his thoughts and ideas about the Argum Stone. Often he thought of the Downs and the wonderfully simple life he had lived there in far Tindal. If only he was there still, safe and perfectly happy. Leila’s death had put an end to all that, of course. That life had died with her, but at least he would see her death avenged.

  The next day came and went without any word from Tulan or Eric and Samuel declared that he could wait no longer. The confinement of the tiny safehouse was becoming torture.

  Goodfellow gave him a critical stare. ‘It would be more sensible to stay here, Samuel. The others are competent. Going outside only brings opportunity for disaster.’

  Samuel stamped around the room, thumping the rickety, old table with his fist. ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing! At any moment, Ash could unlock the power of the Argum Stone and we’re sitting here idle!’

  Goodfellow stood slowly and faced his impatient friend. He brushed the hair from his own eyes before placing his hands firmly on Samuel’s shoulders. ‘Listen. What can you do? What can you possibly do that the others aren’t doing already? I’m sure Eric or Master Glim will contact us when we are needed. Listen to reason. If you are caught again, everything is lost.’

  ‘If there’s a slim chance, I have to take it,’ Samuel said, ‘or else I’ll go crazy waiting in here.’

  ‘Very well,’ Goodfellow said, giving in and sitting back down at the rickety table and returning his gaze to his writings. ‘It’s your choice. Just be careful and try to be back before the others find out.’

  The hooded mage strode across the school grounds, rubbing his hands together briskly in the mist, with puffs of vapour streaming from his mouth with each breath. The night was freezing cold, and so it was not surprising for this magician to head directly for the Great Library, head down in solemn thought. It was not considered unusual for a mage, awoken by some sudden nagging puzzlement or notion, to pursue his curiosity at such an hour. Magicians were considered quite peculiar by common folk. Many were considered peculiar by each other. It came from years of questioning existence and the universe, from bending the common laws of nature with the mere will and, as some said, living with only the company of other such-minded men.

  The mage lifted a sleeved arm to the great doors, pushed one open and stepped in. Once again, the school grounds were dark, cold and empty.

  Samuel closed the large door behind him, gl
ad to put an end to the cold wind that was blowing outside. He turned his attention towards the rows of shelves. No one was visible, but the fact that many lamps were still lit, meant that someone else was probably still here, reading quietly in some dim aisle. He went directly for the cellar stairs and each old wooden step groaned as it begrudgingly took his weight. Somewhere above, in the perfect quiet, a page turned and a nose sniffed. Such sounds had a strange way of carrying in the old library, especially in the dead of night.

  It was midnight-black and as cold as a mountain river down in the cellar. A bluish sphere of light bloomed into life above Samuel’s shoulder and he glared at it, still rubbing his palms together for warmth, until it became a yellow-white hue more suitable for reading. Many magicians could not seem to maintain a spell and concentrate on their research as well, and so the pillars were periodically lined with shelves for the placing of lanterns. Samuel was no common magician and such a task was simple for him. Then again, even the most agile of acrobats sometimes stumble. Samuel tried momentarily to warm himself with a spell, but the skill, as basic as it was, eluded him—he blamed his nerves. Instead, Samuel pulled his robes tighter and began down the nearest aisle.

  He made for the furthest recesses of the cellar, where shelves of untitled articles stretched up towards the ceiling. He calculated that here, among these thousands of various notes, crumpled papers and coverless books, he might find something of what he sought—some hint of the Lick of the Ancients or some unfound secrets of the Argum Stone.

  Damn this freezing hole! he thought to himself and began looking through the wads of papers. And damn you, Ash, for ruining my life!

  Samuel estimated that it must be nearly dawn and he had still not found one scrap of useful information. He had scoured many aisles and countless recesses, looking high atop shelves and into narrow crannies and behind massive leather-bound journals, but could find nothing even remotely applicable to their cause. In the past, he would have found some articles intriguing, but now, he had no time to enjoy them and returned each unwanted piece quickly to its place.

  As he rubbed his sore eyes and the sphere of light waned above his head, Samuel decided enough was enough. It was time to get some sleep.

  The sound of the huge doors booming shut echoed like thunder from above, followed by the voices of several men. He let his mage-light vanish and made through the darkness for the small shard of light that shone down the stairs from above. He carefully climbed the creaking wood and spied two old men standing there, chatting idly. Samuel knew their faces, but their names evaded him for the time being. They had their backs to him as they began wandering between the shelves with lanterns in their hands.

  Taking his opportunity to depart, Samuel tiptoed to the great doors, tugged one open, and stepped once again outside. He rubbed his weary eyes and peered towards the morning sun, creeping up above the rooftops to the far east. The early morning sounds of the city were washing over the walls, along with the crows of roosters and the barking of dogs. Several magicians were already strolling across the grounds, coughing and hugging their clothes about themselves and Samuel remembered his own hood, quickly pulling it up over his head.

  He started for the school gates, glancing left and right for anyone who may recognise him, but there was no one. The city streets outside were quickly filling with all kinds—merchants and tradesmen, farmers and children, beggars and thieves...all kinds. He wove between them all deftly, his mind still set on the matter of the books. It seemed that Goodfellow had been correct. His search had been fruitless, but at least he now felt better for trying. It seemed any books with even the slightest mention of the Ancients had been removed from the Great Library, but it did give Samuel the beginnings of an idea. The books were not in the Great Library, but they must be somewhere. The key to awakening the Argum Stone could lie in any one of those books, so for Ash to learn those secrets, he would have to study the books closely; somewhere nearby, somewhere convenient so he could test his discoveries. The best place for this would be there—in the High Tower with the Argum Stone itself. Somewhere in that chamber, or very near it, Samuel was sure that Ash would be hoarding all the books that had disappeared from the Great Library.

  Samuel smiled and darted between two carts. His night had been a failure, but at least, with the dawn, he had found a fragment of hope.

  Goodfellow was awake when Samuel returned, and he was looking out the window at the morning crowds.

  ‘Master Glim came,’ he said, throwing a glance back at Samuel.

  ‘Oh? And what news?’ Samuel asked with interest.

  ‘They said they have been scouring the Great Library from top to bottom, but without any success. Also, he says he has heard nothing from Grand Master Anthem.’

  ‘Perhaps he will not return, after all.’

  ‘The Grand Master has to be very careful not to be seen, so I’m sure it’s taking him longer. So how was your search? Did you find anything the others could not?’

  ‘No,’ Samuel said, pulling off his boots. ‘You were right—but I have a new idea.’

  ‘Oh? What’s that?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later. I’m too tired to speak. I need some sleep.’ With that he lay down on the makeshift cot by the wall and pulled the blankets around him. ‘Wake me for lunch,’ he added.

  A few moments later, Goodfellow said something in return, but Samuel was already too far gone into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Samuel awoke to the sounds of heavy footsteps stomping up the narrow stairs outside. He vaguely heard Goodfellow push back his chair and approach the door.

  ‘Is he awake yet?’ Master Glim asked, stepping into the room past Eric.

  ‘Not yet,’ Goodfellow replied in quieter tones.

  Samuel groaned and rolled over, opening his eyes for the first time. The room was dull. The light coming in the window showed it to be either dawn or dusk—his senses were muddled and he could not tell which.

  ‘So you live to tell the tale of your foolhardy expedition, I see,’ Master Glim stated quite loudly.

  ‘I’m awake,’ Samuel moaned as he threw back the hot blankets. He sucked at his dry lips and sat up, back against the wall. ‘There’s no need to shout. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’ he asked of Goodfellow.

  ‘I tried,’ the spectacled magician replied. ‘You grumbled and threw a cup at me. Then you just rolled over again and went back to sleep.’

  ‘Oh,’ Samuel said, accepting the matter, before returning his attention to his grey-haired teacher. ‘What news?’

  ‘No news,’ Master Glim confessed. ‘Master Goodfellow here told me about your roaming about all last night. I don’t have to tell you how foolish that was. Eric and I are more than capable of looking for a few books on our own.’

  Samuel held up his hands in defence. His head was still groggy and his eyelids heavy as anvils. ‘I thought perhaps I could find something you could not—besides, I was going crazy being locked in here day after day, night after night.’

  ‘Well, if you’re caught you’ll be more than crazy—you’ll be imprisoned or dead or worse,’ Master Glim said with genuine concern. He sighed and shook his head once more. ‘You seem to have a problem following intelligent suggestions. So, I don’t suppose you did manage to find anything useful?’

  Samuel gained his feet and stretched himself out as he made for one of the chairs by the ramshackle table. ‘No.’

  ‘Then I don’t think we will be able to follow our original plan,’ Master Glim announced. ‘After speaking to Lord Goodwin and Lomar, it does seem as if we are running out of time. There is no point meddling with the Council any more as the existence of this relic makes them redundant, as far as the war is concerned. I can’t see that we have any other choice. We must find a way to destroy this newfound relic: the Argum Stone.’

  ‘I’m not sure such a thing can be destroyed,’ Samuel said.

  ‘Its chamber is nearly atop the inside of the High Tower,’ Master Glim said. ‘We could p
ush it out the window and let it crash down. Such a fall should break anything.’

  ‘Do you think the Staff of Elders could be destroyed so easily?’ Samuel asked, leaving Master Glim to nod thoughtfully. ‘I have another idea.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. I’m listening.’

  ‘We make our way into the High Tower and find all the books that Ash has been hoarding and steal them back. Without the knowledge of how to awaken the Argum Stone, they will never be able to use it.’

  ‘That will be incredibly dangerous,’ Goodfellow stated. ‘If we are caught, there will be no doubt we are acting as traitors—we could be executed.’

  Samuel nodded. ‘I realise that, but we have come to the time where we must begin taking risks. If we can steal away whatever notes they are using to research the Argum Stone, it may actually avert the war and countless lives will be saved. At the very least, their efforts will be delayed and we can go back to original plan via the Council.’

  Master Glim mulled over the idea for a few moments. ‘I see what you are saying, Samuel. If they have not learned to use the thing by now, then they are surely having some difficulty. If we can steal their resources away, they may never manage it.’

  ‘Exactly, but such an important thing will surely be well guarded,’ Samuel said, ‘and there are only the four of us—five, if we include Eric.’

  ‘We don’t need a lot of people,’ Master Glim said. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. We want to sneak in there and be out again before anyone notices. If we draw the palace guards’ attention upon ourselves, we are probably done for. We should ask Lord Goodwin to assist. If he can organise a distraction for Master Ash to get him out of that chamber, then all the better. You can kill him another time. At present, we do not need any complications.’