‘No, but I am learning more, slowly.’
‘We cannot wait forever, Samuel. We need to act.’
There was a commotion from the crowd as two Paatin wizards emerged from the opposing gates. The crowd did not cheer, but a murmur ran amongst them. These wizards donned grey, wrap-around cloaks of light material, in the Paatin-style. They seemed powerful and the two of them immediately began gathering power from the pattern around them.
‘Trouble,’ Eric noted.
‘I still don’t have my ring, Eric. Can you handle them?’
Eric was worried, but he made his best attempt to hide the fact. ‘Without a doubt,’ he lied, and he, too, began filling himself with magic.
Samuel felt his heart racing and forced his eyes shut, even reducing his magician’s senses to nothing in attempt to shut out the presence of the two readying wizards. His lips trembled as he recited his mantras of centring. He tried all the mind-calming exercises he knew, but still his power was distant and feeble, too pathetic to even reach.
‘Samuel,’ he heard Eric say beside him, but he did his best to ignore his friend. ‘Samuel!’ Eric called again, with more urgency. ‘I hope you’re ready. They’re coming!’
Samuel opening his eyes to see the two wizards working at their spells. They had already made their shields and were now readying their offensive magic, moving their arms in gestures of casting.
‘Are you ready, Samuel?’ Eric said, having thrown his defences in place.
Two blasts of magic shot out towards them and Samuel dived for cover. The Paatin magic thundered into Eric’s shields. Both spells were heavy, but Eric skilfully deflected each of them aside.
‘No, I’m not ready!’ Samuel called out, quickly picking himself up from the sand.
‘Then leave it to me,’ Eric said. ‘I will try to end this quickly, before they have a chance to learn our weakness.’
Eric gathered magic from his own pool and worked it into a spell. The two Paatin stood patiently and awaited its completion, hoping to measure his strength in return.
‘Make it count, Eric. We don’t want to give them a chance to retaliate.’
With that, Eric unleashed his magic and the spell shot forth with fury. It was a beam of fire wrapped in lightning, and it surged from his hands teeming with wrath. It careened wildly into the ground like a writhing serpent and sent up a great spray of sand as Eric struggled to direct it. It struck the Paatin defences with a roar and the wizards reacted in turn. Their shields squealed, but the brunt of Eric’s spell was turned aside, churning up more sand and scorching the walls.
Stray fragments of magic flew towards the crowds, but the Paatin observers were not caught unprepared. Wizards were sitting in the front row of the crowd and they already had a net of spells in place to protect the audience.
‘You need to do better than that,’ Samuel said, but Eric was not deterred.
‘I’m not finished yet,’ he said and released a second knot of magic that he had readied behind the first.
The beam of fire bloomed to twice its size and beat at the Paatin shield with twice its vigour. The two wizards were barely visible amongst the sparks and fire, but Samuel could see that they were standing calmly as they defended themselves, unfazed by Eric’s effort.
He was disappointed, but Eric was still not finished. With determination, he unleashed another spell, low in power but complex in crafting. It shot out laterally, striking the arena wall at their side and then raced around like a scampering monkey upon the wall, following it towards the wizards. When it was behind the men, it sprang out towards their backs, ready to grip hold of them.
‘Yes!’ Samuel declared, a moment too soon, for they had been ready for just such an attack. With a flick of his wrist, one of the wizards easily dispelled Eric’s attempt to catch them unawares.
Eric ceased his efforts and the roar and noise of his spells immediately ceased. ‘I think we’re in trouble,’ he noted. His forehead was glistening with sweat. ‘These two are strong.’
The two wizards left the spot where they had made their stand, and moved in opposite directions. They circled around the wall of the arena, sidestepping and keeping their dark faces to the two magicians.
‘What now?’ Eric asked.
‘They’re flanking us. Let them. Eric, gather more power. You must do all the offensive work while I try to distract their attention.’
‘How are you planning to do that?’
‘Just do it, Eric. I will take care of my part and you take care of yours. I know you still have much more power inside you. This is no time to be coy. We need it now, or we’re dead.’
Eric nodded solemnly and set himself to the task, dropping into Fathoming Stance with his fingers to his temples. The sand shuddered as he pooled more power, but the Paatin wizards leapt into action before he could complete his work. Spells shot out from both of them and Samuel’s heart was in his mouth. Eric was busy and he knew it was up to him to defend them both. He heard himself scream with effort as he spread out his arms to each side and called for a spell. The Paatin magic fell upon them from both sides and, incredibly, was stopped short by a barrier of magic. Samuel was astounded and was wondering why his magic had chosen that moment to return, when he realised it had not, for it was Eric who had saved them.
Eric had broken from his Summoning stance to save them and was now standing defensively, surrounding them in protective barriers.
‘Damn it, Samuel!’ he swore. ‘Do I have to do everything?’
Samuel brought his empty hands back before his chest and looked into them. His magic had failed again. He had hoped that sheer need and desperation would be enough to lure his power from its slumber, but he was not so fortunate.
More spells shot out from the Paatin wizards: quick probing spells that harassed Eric’s shields and tested them for openings. One Paatin then eased back, saving his power, while the other continued to attack them, hoping to wear the Imperial magicians down.
‘Very well,’ Samuel said. ‘Perhaps I can do something else that may be of some use.’
He vaulted past Eric and left their bubble of protection. He began sprinting towards the wizard who had eased his spells, running at the man full pace. The wizard was surprised and cast out his magic, but Samuel had already turned aside and began darting away with the spells at his heels. He heard the wizard curse after him and he only hoped that Eric would act quickly. He had only scant moments left before the Paatin wizard would second-guess his evasive movements and then his luck would run out.
The second wizard ceased his attacks upon Eric and he, too, took up the opportunity to attack Samuel. It was a critical mistake for them and a stroke of luck for the Order magicians for, in the time it took for the man to redirect his spells, Eric had sprung into action.
As the Paatin magic raced out towards Samuel, Eric pulled down his shields and tossed all his power at the distracted wizard. The spell shattered the man’s defences and slammed into him. The impact threw the wizard against the arena wall and left him hanging at the centre of a deep depression on its cracked face. The force of the spell must have been considerable, for a length of seating above that spot fell in and the audience scrambled as their chairs caved into the hole beneath them.
As the force of the spell subsided, the Paatin wizard fell from the wall and crashed limply onto the sand, perished.
Samuel continued his frantic steps until he realised that the other wizard’s spells had ceased behind him. The remaining wizard was now directing his spells at Eric, whom he took to be the greater threat, and who now had no shields in place. Eric saw it coming, but he had precious little time to assemble more defences. His first hastily rebuilt shields tumbled beneath the wizard’s onslaught.
‘Eric!’ Samuel called in alarm. He was powerless to help, so he did all he could do, and began running at the Paatin wizard with all the strength and speed he could muster.
Eric’s spells collapsed before Samuel could get anywhere near the wiza
rd and Eric disappeared amidst a fountain of sand as the Paatin spell exploded in upon him. Samuel continued running, painfully aware that his steps were just too slow and the distance was just too great to do him any good.
The wizard turned towards him and their gazes locked. The Paatin pushed his fists forwards toward Samuel and the same offensive spell burst forth. Samuel had little choice but to maintain his current path and he met the attack at full stride.
Strangely enough, and luckily enough, his magic chose that moment to return and it sprang from him almost instinctively, sounding a familiar click in his head as it erupted from his skin. Magical weaves intercepted the Paatin spell, shunting it aside. The floor to his right, where the wayward spell struck, gushed upwards like a geyser and Samuel had to raise his hand to keep the sand from his eyes.
The world seemed to have greater detail—not the time-slowing effect that he had sometimes felt in moments of true affinity with his magic—but, as his magic saturated his senses, he could feel everything around him with more clarity and in greater detail. He could see the tiny, irregular spikes on individual grains of sand as they each rained back down to earth. He could see the pock-marked and sweat-beaded skin on the Paatin wizard’s face fold and gather together as the man narrowed his eyes, looking to Samuel with discontent. As individual droplets were brought together, rivulets ran down his face.
Another spell of sparks and fire came from the wizard and Samuel skidded to a halt. The torrent enveloped him, but his own magic was now at hand, and he grasped the Paatin spell and took it for his own. The flames and lightning encircled him furiously, roaring and flashing, and Samuel turned the spell around and sent it back from where it had come, peeling it from his body and sending it towards the Paatin. The wizard, in turn, strengthened his protective spells to take the blow and disappeared amongst the maelstrom as it surrounded him.
Samuel began summoning some power for his own offence, and it came to him without delay, naturally and vibrantly. It seemed as if all was going well and he was confident of destroying the man before him, when a pop sounded in his ear and his connection with the ether vanished, taking all the magic he had gathered with it. As quick as the moment had come, it had gone, and Samuel was once again left standing powerless.
Not content to hope his luck would return, Samuel leapt into action and bounded forwards once more. The Paatin spell had ended and with his hand, the man was swatting away the smoke that hugged him. When he saw Samuel closing in, he summoned another spell; but Samuel was now only four strides away and already leaping with all his might.
They collided at full speed, knocking the wind out of them both. The wizard fell beneath him and Samuel recovered first, landing blows to the desert-man’s face as hard as he could. He could now hear Eric yelling out in pain behind him, but Samuel continued pummelling the man beneath him, slamming his fists into the bloodied face over and over. He clawed his fingers around the man’s neck and squeezed tightly, until the wizard’s face turned blue and his tongue came lolling out of his frothing mouth. Only when he was sure the man was dead, did Samuel get up and stumble back towards his stricken friend.
Eric lay alive, but bloodied and half-buried in sand.
‘Here we are again, Samuel,’ Eric groaned. ‘Me, down and injured, and you winning the day. I’m really getting tired of this.’
‘I didn’t win the day, Eric. You did. You evened the odds and all I did was take the honours. I wouldn’t have stood a chance by myself.’
Many of Eric’s bones were broken and the internal damage was terrible. Samuel knelt beside his friend and tried to call more power, desperate for spells of healing, but once again his magic had subsided and would not come.
‘Well?’ Samuel yelled up to the crowd, where he assumed the Desert Queen would be, lurking amongst the sea of on-lookers. ‘Were you entertained? We won! Now get down here and save him!’
He was surprised when a flurry of magic arced down from the stands and Alahativa sailed down beside him, supported on a bed of spells. The crowd began singing and calling out her praises. It was the first time he had seen her use her power and he could see the magic springing from the ring on her finger and flooding within her. Unlike his own experiences, the magic was well regulated and she obviously was having no difficulty in summoning exactly the amount of power she desired.
‘Very well, Samuel,’ she said, looking pleased. ‘You have earned a stay of execution for now. I am disappointed that you still defy my will to see your full power, but you have met my request to see some magic, so I must admit that you have satisfied our agreement. Perhaps it is my fault for not arranging a suitable challenge. Still, you will live. Don’t worry about your friend. We will care for him,’ and she threw a spell onto Eric that immediately eased his pain. Already, healers—male and female—had burst from the doors and hustled over to carry him away.
With that, Alahativa sailed back up to her seat on effortless spells, leaving Samuel alone, looking towards the beckoning figure of Utik’cah in the distant doorway. Eric was injured, but he would live. It was not so bad, for he believed the Queen’s healers would care for Eric as she had promised and that meant he was free of participating in these accursed tests for now. Also, Samuel had watched the witch’s spells and he smiled as he recited them back in his mind, heading for the dim doorway beneath the crowds. In its stubborn way, his magic had returned, and that was enough to complete his feeling of victory. If it could be done once, it could be done again.
Samuel was left to rest after the battle, but late in the afternoon Utik’cah arrived, bearing news that he had again been summoned into the presence of his Queen. Wordlessly, he led Samuel through the palace, but this time they followed a new route that lead down through the peacock-inhabited and meticulously pruned gardens.
‘Where are we going?’ Samuel asked.
‘I will show you,’ was the response.
Wishing to test his recovered powers, Samuel hoped he would be able to enter the man’s mind and glean some indication of Utik’cah’s intentions, but it seemed his magic was still being evasive. As he followed his dark-skinned Paatin guide, he found his mind unsettled, more focussed on their destination and he was forced to give up, admitting to himself that he had already achieved enough of a milestone for today.
Skipping down a long set of steep, white-stone, squared stairs, they made their way down to where the river coursed down from the mountain. A large barge lay waiting there, docked beside an ornate stone jetty. Serving girls waited, throwing petals as they arrived, and burly guards stood watching, with their mighty blades hefted upon their shoulders. The barge itself was more like a floating room from the palace than a ship, covered in rugs and furnishings and with attentive servants clustering around.
Alahativa sat inside the raised pavilion and she beckoned for Samuel to sit in a chair beside her. He did so reluctantly, for their seats were arranged side by side, as equals, and he knew the decision to place the seating like this had been purposeful. It was an intimidating proposal, but he took it willingly, keen to see what kind of invitation she would extend to him.
She smiled at him welcomingly as her servants pushed the vessel away from the dock and began driving the barge forward with synchronised strokes of their long, dipping oars.
‘I still don’t quite know what to think of you, Samuel,’ Alahativa said as they passed through her city. Throngs of her people rushed to the raised riversides and packed onto the bridges at her approach, dropping their bundles and throwing themselves onto their knees in worship. She seemed oblivious to the spectacle and continued chatting to Samuel as they passed. ‘I see your magic was not as elusive as you thought. Your reputation tells of a great magician yet, even when faced with the possible death of your closest friend, you use just a trifling power and kill your enemy with your bare hands. None of my wizards would behave like this. You use the strangest methods, Samuel. Is this, perhaps, what is responsible for your string of successes? Is it possible that you ar
e not the strongest, but instead the most cunning, the most resourceful...the most unusual? Tell me your secret, Samuel.’
Samuel listened to her words, but his eyes were now on her finger and the ring upon it. ‘Strength alone will never succeed,’ he said, hoping to throw her off with any words that would distract her.
‘Oh? Then what will? Speed? Cunning? Determination? Which do you consider to be the most vital trait of the victor? Tell me, Samuel, I am curious to have some insight into your inner workings.’
‘There is no single characteristic that is best all situations,’ he told her. ‘Likewise, there is no single answer to your question.’
‘Surely you can choose one thing over another? What is it? What does your wisdom tell you?’
‘Is it really an answer you seek, or is it only the way I answer that interests you?’ he asked her levelly.
She smiled knowingly. ‘Aren’t they one and the same, Samuel? Come—entertain me with your wit.’
‘Intent,’ Samuel replied after a moment’s deliberation. ‘An opponent can have every overwhelming advantage, but if they have no desire to win, they are useless.’
‘Intent?’ the woman said with disbelief. ‘How can you choose such a lowly thing? My scholars and philosophisers would laugh. More harm is done in the name of good intent than good.’
‘All the other attributes you care to mention can be made redundant by another. With ultimate speed or strength or another such physical attribute, one could perhaps be the victor, but what would be achieved without the wisdom to direct such power? With ultimate wisdom or knowledge alone, one would never act, for such attributes are useless without direction. Victory is meaningless to true scholars and they would not bother with such hollow pursuits, knowing its pointlessness over time.
‘Intent is pure, for it is without magnitude. There is no greater or lesser intent, only intent in some particular act and, if one can truly perform in unity with his intent, then anything can be accomplished, even with a little of those other traits.’
She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 39