The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy)

by Foster, Michael

  Samuel made for the building’s edge and took a great leap. The next rooftop was further than it appeared and he had to quickly enhance his leap with a spell of Moving, gaining an extra few measures of distance. He landed lightly and then turned to the sound of footsteps as the magician followed his example, leaping from the building’s edge with the aid of a spell. Samuel raised his unharmed hand—letting his other arm drop to his side like nothing more than a tube of meat—and cast a spell, cancelling the man’s Lifting spell as it formed. The magician’s face went white with terror as he disappeared down between the buildings. His yell stopped abruptly as he hit the street below.

  The other two magicians appeared at the roof’s edge, pointing to Samuel and they came together across the gap. As Samuel ran, he was pelted with spells that pulled and tested his defences. He staggered as a wave of force struck him in the back. It was difficult to concentrate; the pain of his ruined arm continually surfaced and made his head swim.

  Thankfully, the next building was nearer and lower, and Samuel threw himself across the alley below. His ankle floundered as he landed and twisted, sending him sprawling onto his face. He crawled back to his feet as one magician sailed clear over him with a magical leap and landed lightly on his far side. The other mage took a smaller jump, in order to land on the alley side of Samuel and block his retreat, but Samuel had anticipated this. He leapt up with all his resolve and met the man at the roof’s edge, butting into him with his shoulder just as the fellow landed. The last of Samuel’s strength went into the blow and it threw him onto his back, knocking the wind from his lungs, but the desired effect was achieved. The magician screamed as he toppled backwards and careened down into the dark alley.

  The stars were beautiful tonight. They reminded Samuel of all the times he had lain in the fields and glades with Leila, looking up and watching the tiny bright dots above, like motes of dust on a millpond. Occasionally, a shooting star would burn across the sky and they would both laugh and hug each other closer, making wishes. He wished he was still there, lying in that field or by the stream with Leila in his arms. Her body had been so soft and warm and wonderful and her smile was beyond any description that he could attempt with words. All he could feel now was the cold of night and the hard rooftop underneath him.

  The stars blurred before his watering eyes and a dark shape loomed over him. It bore a smile of satisfaction and Samuel had to clear his confused mind to remember where he was.

  ‘What trouble you have been, traitor,’ the man said with a northern accent. He could have been from the same town as Eric. ‘How happy the Archmage will be when he sees your severed head.’

  Samuel swallowed. The pain was numbing him now. His lips felt like someone else’s—fat and swollen. He looked into the northerner’s face. The man’s aura swirled and churned around him, almost like a tiny sky full of stars itself. They shimmered and spun; then, like a wave retreating from the beach to rejoin the sea, the magician’s aura waned and shuddered as he gathered his strength to deliver a final blow. To most magicians, such a thing was impossible to see, but Samuel could watch the very power vanish from the man’s defences as he summoned it into his palms. In that instant, the magician had unwittingly sealed his own defeat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Samuel whispered and he raised his trembling hand just enough. It almost looked as if he was reaching for help. So much death.

  An instant of realisation replaced the northerner’s confident grin as a ball of burning bright light flashed up into his face. He howled with pain and stumbled back, clutching at his smoking, hissing face. His screaming continued as he tripped over the roof’s edge and into the street below, where it abruptly stopped with a shrill gasp.

  The sounds of people roused from their houses came from all around and women began to scream. Samuel could only lie and stare at the blurry stars as the blowing of whistles and cries for the city guards echoed down the streets. The magician would have thought nothing of Samuel’s spell at any other moment, but so timed, it had found him defenceless. Thoughts came into Samuel’s head— knowledge…knowledge… He could not tell if they were someone else’s or his own. Nothing is more powerful than knowledge.

  ‘Come, Samuel,’ a voice then said beside him and Samuel rolled his head over to see who was there. Even that was a trembling effort.

  ‘Lomar,’ Samuel could only whisper, his voice thin.

  The tall magician was busily doing something beside him and he could hear the tearing and tying of cloth. Some time seemed to have passed, but Samuel could not tell if it was moments or hours. His body hurt all over and his head still rang from striking the roof. There was no feeling in his arm at all, but he could tell that Lomar was doing something to him, tying something around his side. Lomar sat Samuel up and put his own cloak around him, throwing Samuel’s bloodied robes aside. Samuel was then lifted to his feet and together they limped to the roof’s far side, away from the commotion. Somehow, Samuel managed to get his legs in some form of working order, but they felt like two drunkards beneath him, brawling against each other. Reaching a distant edge, Lomar then lowered Samuel onto a lower store roof and Samuel winced as his swollen foot took his weight. The other arm still dripped blood, leaving a trail of dark blots.

  Lomar dropped beside him nimbly; then Samuel was again lowered onto the top of a large barrel, where he managed to control his fall onto the alleyway. Again, Lomar appeared beside him and helped him up, and they made their way along the street, arms around each other.

  ‘I killed them,’ Samuel said, feeling strange and distant. Lomar had done something to him to numb the pain.

  ‘Don’t worry Samuel. You had no choice,’ Lomar replied. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to find you. Master Glim and I had some escaping of our own to do. He managed to slip away unseen, but I’m afraid I had quite a lot of trouble convincing the palace guards to leave me be. I had to be rather forceful in the end.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like you,’ Samuel said, attempting to smile, but the pain cut through him like a knife, making him wince. Lomar nodded. ‘We saved as many books as we could,’ Samuel then added.

  ‘I know,’ Lomar said back.

  ‘But many were lost.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. To get what we did was a small miracle.’

  ‘There are no miracles,’ Samuel said softly to himself, feeling faint and distant.

  Surprisingly, Lomar had heard him and whispered back, ‘Oh, I think there are, my friend.’ Then he smiled, a barely discernible smile that just touched the edges of his lips and it made Samuel wonder what it was that his friend was thinking.

  They continued on through the narrow back alleys towards the safehouse, thankful not to come across anyone. Shouts echoed from the streets and houses far away, but the two men were only shadows slipping through the darkness.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Anthem’s Revenge

  IT SEEMED THEIR adventure had been something of a success, for the streets of Cintar had been filled with soldiers and magicians alike since their escape from the palace. Every effort was being made to recover the stolen books and find the rogue magicians, with soldiers banging on doors and searching buildings indiscriminately. Fortunately, there were not enough magicians in the city to accompany every squad and the escapees simply hid their door from view whenever soldiers came trudging up their stairs.

  ‘It looks as though our efforts have caused rather a stir,’ Lomar noted. ‘The Emperor has mobilised the entire city garrison and the Archmage has everyone with two good legs out in the streets. It can only mean we managed to take something they need.’

  ‘Or else they just want us to think that,’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘That way we won’t get up to any more mischief.’

  ‘Ah…it’s possible,’ Lomar confessed, ‘but I wouldn’t give them so much credit. Turians are not known for subtlety, after all. This show of force really suggests desperation.’

  ‘Do you think Master Glim will be able to contact us?’ Eric
asked of the tall magician.

  Lomar shook his head. ‘I think it’s too dangerous for the time being. I’m quite sure he escaped without being seen, so he’ll be waiting in the School of Magic, but they’ll be watching it now more closely than ever. It may take him some time to find a way to reach us.’

  A young boy in the room upstairs—Eezel was his name—was their only source of food for the time being. He happily brought them whatever they requested from the market in exchange for a few coins. He seemed ignorant as to who they were and, just to be sure, Samuel gleaned his thoughts occasionally to check for any malevolent intentions. Eezel, however, had his mind focussed only on making some money to buy himself a new football. If not for him, the four magicians would have run out of food and drink long before.

  Samuel’s wounds healed quickly with the aid of spells, but still, if he moved too quickly or in the wrong way, the pain was terrible and his flesh felt like it had been torn anew. He lay in his bed, struggling to read, turning pages and scribbling down notes with his good arm as well he could. When he felt stronger, he began to sit up and, after that, he kept his arm strung at his chest with a scrap of cloth.

  For many days, Samuel, Lomar and the Erics scoured through the volumes of text that they had stolen, searching for any mention of the Argum Stone or the black magic that Ash had been employing.

  They had only managed to steal a fraction of what had been hoarded in the Argum Stone’s chamber, and almost half of that had been left in the carriage. Eric had scolded Samuel when he heard that the books in the carriage had not been destroyed, but Goodfellow was supportive of his friend’s actions. Lomar took the middle ground, admitting that, for the sake of stopping the war, the books should have been destroyed, but that Samuel probably had little opportunity to do so as he defended against his pursuers. Samuel finally admitted his fault and stated that they would have to do the best they could with what little material they had managed to save.

  Each page they read seemed to present only further questions and precious few answers. Goodfellow had fixed papers along one wall and they began to jot anything they thought was important upon it. They found many references to the Ancient Lick and they jotted them all down on the wall in an attempt to find a common frame of reference. At first, they had only a handful of figures, but as they progressed, they found more and more relationship between the symbols, slowly developing some meaning between them all.

  They sorted all the books into piles of apparently useful books and those that appeared nonsensical or useless. Many contained garbled poems and indecipherable gibberish and some were unrelated to anything relevant at all. Some were written in languages that none of them were capable of understanding.

  Every book ever written with even a mention of the Ancients must have been piled in that chamber, even if they were filled with absolute nonsense. Some contained no more than a single word or reference. Some were so old and damaged that the text was completely illegible. Still, they forged on, sorting through the many pages.

  Samuel scoured every leaf and page for reference to the Argum Stone or black magic and the only Ancient phrase he knew, ‘amun-morbayah’—the words Ash had used that had made the relic burn instantly hot. He found a sketch of what may have been the Argum Stone, amongst a page of turbid writings, but he could make no sense of them. He put the pages on the appropriate pile for future study. Of the strange phrase, he could only guess that it was some key word for the relic, but its exact meaning was a mystery. The only clue was that the words seemed similar to the Old Tongue phrase ah’munna moora bai ahmeen, which meant ‘point through the centre’ or perhaps ‘touch around the middle’. The meaning was vague, to say the least. Samuel chewed over his thoughts, scratched at the scar on his arm and kept on reading.

  They learned that the Ancients often used their ability to travel instantly by the means of Journey Spells, such as Eric’s. Samuel read how one powerful man, called Marrag Lin, the Seer of Korda, defied his peers and used this ability to open a gate to another world altogether. He was immediately overcome by the evil presence that dwelt there and at once became its slave. After that, he performed many dark and evil deeds and offered his colleagues to his new masters as sacrifices. The man learned how to use the captured essence of his victims as a source of power and he caused much suffering before he was overcome. His soul had become so darkened by the black magic, that he was drawn into the very world he had opened. He defied the laws of death and himself became a devil along with his three closest disciples. The use of such magic was forever forbidden and all record of its use supposedly destroyed.

  ‘The Devils of Korda?’ Goodfellow asked after Samuel had explained what he had found.

  ‘I thought it a tale until now,’ Samuel said.

  ‘Most tales have their roots in truth,’ Lomar explained. ‘We have learned that Ash is treading where he should not and we should be even more careful when facing him. I would not be surprised if this tale were true and devils did once walk the land but, even if it were not, it is still not a wise idea to meddle with things unknown. Ignorance can be most dangerous. Ash should be very careful.’

  ‘Do you think the Archmage or the other councillors would resort to such black magic?’ Eric asked.

  Lomar shook his head. ‘I hope not. Only a fool would deal with such powers. Even the Archmage would not stoop to such things. At least, I hope not. If the bearer of such power were to be overcome by evil, he would be very difficult to defeat.’

  ‘It took all our strength to save Master Glim from the trap in the Argum Stone’s chamber,’ Samuel explained. ‘And we had no idea it was even there. Such magic seems to be entirely different from our own and much more powerful.’

  ‘I’m sure we can find some way to match it. It is only powerful because we have no knowledge of it,’ Lomar said with determination, and they continued reading until their eyes ached in their heads.

  In the following days, they came across various rituals and rites related to such dark power. The authors described unholy incantations and animal and human sacrifice and the use of bodily organs. Few of the authors wrote with clarity, as if gripped by the throes of madness and their works often ended abruptly. It seemed there were many groups around the land that used simple black magic to further their own causes. Covens, the author called them, and they would meet and practise their art in secret. Even common folk could use such power, for it depended on no skills of their own, and their jealousy towards magicians often brought the two groups into conflict. Even the most well-meaning practitioner of the dark arts soon became tainted, resorting to more and more vile acts until that individual was overcome altogether. Along with this were documented the many great purges of such witches by the lawmakers of the times. Those charged with finding and punishing any folk using any dark arts were traditionally called witch hunters.

  After a slow week they had discovered much, but their search was still only beginning. They still had no idea of how to combat black magic with their own. In all probability, Lomar stated, that was why Ash employed it. It was totally alien to the Order and made him as powerful as several magicians with its use. Their only salvation was that black magic required a source of power different to their own magic. First, a ritual must be performed, invoking the power of the dark spirits. Then, once some power had been granted, it must be stored for future use in jars or vials with vital fluids that sustained it, exactly as Ash had done. Once these stores of power had been exhausted, then the summoning ritual must be performed again. This was both a blessing and a curse for those who wished to use black magic, for you could cast as many spells as you had vials, almost instantly and with little invocation but, once they were used, there was no way to quickly use any magic again. Only the greater witches could channel power directly from the dark realm, and generally only for very limited durations.

  As they studied and learned, the four friends had no idea of what was happening outside their room, apart from what little news Eezel could
pass them, but they dared not venture out while the hunt for them continued. Every moment was spent in preparation. Even a single, tiny clue could prove to be a powerful tool against Ash. However, as each day passed, they grew more desperate, for they had found nothing about the Argum Stone, how to awaken it or what powers it held stored within. This meant that Ash probably still had the information, assuming it actually existed at all. They had no choice, however, but to continue on—hour by hour, day by day.

  ‘A magician is coming!’ Samuel announced, feeling a sudden power beginning up the stairs.

  The four of them stood and waited anxiously. They dared not summon their magic lest it gave them away altogether. After an ominous moment, there was a soft tap on the door. They each looked to the others, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. The knocking sounded again, much louder and more impatiently and then a familiar voice shouted in at them.

  ‘Open the door, you mangy street-whores before I blast it open!’ came the voice of Grand Master Anthem.

  Eric lifted the bar and quickly opened the door. Grand Master Anthem stepped into the room without a pause and surveyed them all with discontent.

  ‘What a sorry welcome!’ he croaked irritably. ‘Oh, my poor stomach. I thought that cursed boat was going to roll at over any moment.’

  ‘Grand Master!’ Lomar said. ‘You’ve arrived at last. We’re so happy to see you!’

  ‘Let me sit down,’ Anthem said, pushing past them. ‘That ocean voyage has beaten me like a bully at an old dog.’