‘Come along, you lot!’ he called his crowd of servants. ‘There’s plenty more where those came from.’
After they had all vanished back into the tower entrance, the guards’ spokesman sauntered up to the wagon to take a look.
‘Where are you off to, then, My Lord-if you don’t mind my askin’?’
‘We’re having a special magicians’ meeting,’ Samuel told the man. ‘It’s very late notice and we have a lot of books to carry with us.’
The guard nodded and peered into the back of the wagon with some curiousness.
‘Would you like a hand, then?’ the man asked.
‘What’s that?’ Samuel asked him, unsure of his meaning.
‘Would you like us to help you? We don’t really have anything else to do. If you’re really in a fix, we’d be happy to help out a member of the Order.’
‘Oh,’ Samuel replied. ‘That would be wonderful-if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘It’s no problem, really,’ the guard stated and he began rounding up his mates at once. ‘Where do we go then?’
‘Almost to the top of the tower,’ Samuel told him. ‘You can’t miss it.’
With that, the four Royal Guards went into the tower after Eric and his servants. Samuel just hoped Master Glim would not panic on sight of them and vaporise the lot.
More servants began to appear in pairs, so Samuel kept busy instructing them about what to do.
‘Put them in! Hurry along!’ Samuel commanded and the servants kept piling in books. All the while, he kept a nervous eye out for any magicians or guards approaching. He knew they would eventually be discovered. It was just a matter of when.
Samuel saw the same servants come down several times and the cab was now filled up to the seats, with the servants piling the books up on the soft leather seating inside.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Samuel’s attention and Eric came bounding down into the small courtyard.
‘Let’s go!’ he shouted under his breath, waving both hands frantically. ‘It’s time to go!’
Samuel understood immediately and he grabbed the books from the arms of the last servingwoman and threw them in upon the others, shutting the cab door firmly.
Eric was up into the driver’s seat and was already releasing the braking handle. The two horses looked back at him, sensing it was time to leave. Samuel climbed up beside Eric as he began flicking the reins with vigour.
‘Let’s go!’ he called to the horses and the carriage lurched away at once, with the animals’ hooves clacking on the courtyard stones. ‘They’re onto us!’ Eric then told Samuel. ‘We had best be away quickly before the guards arrive. Lomar and Master Glim are trying to keep them busy, but I don’t know how long they can last.’
‘Do you think they’ll be all right?’ Samuel asked with concern.
Eric just smiled. ‘I’m sure they will be. Those two can handle themselves.’
‘How many books did you get? Surely, this is not all of them.’
‘Not nearly,’ Eric replied, but it’s the best we could do.’
Out of the courtyard, Eric shook the reins harder and clicked his tongue, steering the wagon out onto the grass where he could send it even faster. From high above, behind them, the soft boom and crackle of magic sounded. They sped towards the palace gates, where Eric slowed the wagon to a crawl once again. The two magicians nodded and smiled to the gate guards as they passed out. The men eyed them cautiously, but made no effort to stop them.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Eric declared once they were out into the streets. ‘We walked straight in and just picked up their books!’
‘They’ll be mighty angry, I’ll wager,’ Samuel stated.
‘I’m sure of that!’
It was now late in the night and the streets outside the palace were almost deserted. Samuel kept looking behind them, but there was no sign of any pursuit. They sped along the streets as fast as they dared, making sure to avoid the taverns and market streets, where people often gathered until all hours.
They eventually made it to the safehouse and pulled to a halt with the carriage merely a few footsteps from the doorway. The crowd was still thick and did not look like dispersing any time soon, but they had no problem shouting a space around themselves. Samuel and Eric both leapt down from the driver’s seat and Samuel opened the carriage door. Books tumbled out onto the ground, falling open and spilling loose pages. They both gathered up as many books as they could and then topped their piles with even more books from inside the luxurious cabin until they could barely see over the stacks in their arms. As they rushed inside, Goodfellow appeared on the stairway and came to their assistance.
‘You actually did it?’ he asked with disbelief.
‘Shut up and help us carry them in,’ Samuel called out. ‘The guards will probably be after us any moment.’
Goodfellow leapt into action, hurrying to the carriage and gathering up a pile of his own. Several times they each hurried up and down the narrow stairway, bumping into each other with arms full of heavy books. As Samuel was carrying his seventh armful, Goodfellow came flying down the stairs, nearly sending them both sprawling back down.
‘They’re coming!’ he exclaimed with alarm. ‘I can hear shouting from the market square.’
‘Hell and damnation!’ Samuel swore and threw his books as far up the steps as he could. ‘They’re here!’ he hissed to Eric, who had just come up behind him.
Samuel made the street in one leap and was frantically tossing books as fast and as far as he could up onto the stairs, some tearing from their bindings and losing their pages. Eric was then beside him, helping to shovel out the books. Normally, they would have shuddered at the thought of such an act, but they were desperate to save as many volumes as they could.
‘Go!’ Eric called desperately.
‘The books!’ Samuel hissed back to him, reaching for another handful.
‘Damn the books!’ Eric returned, throwing the cab door shut in Samuel’s face. ‘If they find us here they’ll all be lost. We have to save what we can. I’ll lead them away.’
‘No!’ Samuel told his friend, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of them. You take care of the books.’
Eric opened his mouth to object, but Samuel was already vaulting back up into the driver’s seat.
He shook the reins hard and cried out, ‘Ya!’ The horses lurched forward. Their hooves slipped about on the paved street until they gained enough traction to begin away. ‘Get out of the way!’ he cried.
The crowd jeered and swore as Samuel pushed through them, but thankfully they fell back into place behind him as he passed, creating just as much of an inconvenience for any pursuers. As soon as he was free of the markets, he roared out loud and set the horses galloping along the treacherous street. He could sense riders not far behind. The smell of magic was growing.
After only a few streets, Samuel could hear soldiers behind, shouting and calling for him to stop. Samuel lashed at the reins and his horses bolted forward. A small crowd was ahead and people screamed and swore and dived aside as the carriage thundered forth. A couple were too slow and Samuel felt their bodies go beneath the wheels with a sickening crunch. Samuel cursed himself, but would not let the carriage slow.
He came to a sharp corner and the horses’ hooves slipped on the stones and the carriage skidded as it made the turn. A vacant stand was smashed to pieces against the wall as the carriage swung into it. Looking over one shoulder as he made the turn, Samuel could see the armed riders in pursuit, only half a street behind.
People were still gathered in droves here and they screamed and hurled abuse as he parted them with the careering carriage. This time, it only made his pursuers’ task easier and they galloped through the thinned and screaming crowd behind.
Samuel turned another bend and entered a much wider street. It led downhill towards the south-eastern quarter and his horses had begun picking up their pace when an armoured horse galloped past him
on the right. Its rider, wearing the plated armour of the palace, bore a savage look of determination. He reached out towards Samuel’s horses and made for the harness of the outermost animal. Samuel responded by pulling at the reins and moving the carriage away to the left, momentarily beyond the man’s reach. Something flashed in the corner of Samuel’s vision and a sword came swinging down beside him. It bit into his arm, hacking into the flesh just below his elbow and striking right through to the bone. Samuel screamed and threw himself away and across the driver’s seat. The guard raised his sword again and leant over to strike, this time hacking wildly into the padded seat, spilling fluff into the air. His eyes and mouth were wide with fury.
Samuel instinctively threw a spell in retaliation. His mind buzzed with the pain of his ruined arm and he half-surprised himself when the spell actually formed true. The horseman’s mount panicked, its mind filled with blood and wolves, and it leapt aside in terror, slamming into a wall. Both horse and rider tumbled over and disappeared as the carriage continued on, with the vehicle jumping as something solid went under the rear wheel.
Samuel realised that the carriage was slowing and he returned his attention to the first horseman. The man had gained hold of the harness and was bringing the vehicle to a halt. Samuel cast the same spell again and the man’s horse stopped on the spot. The spell had been malformed-something he could not tell what had gone awry-but the effect was just as useful. The man vanished behind as his horse stopped dead still and the harness was torn from his grasp.
Samuel snatched up the reins with one hand and shook his animals back into life. They began galloping anew, but their breathing was now hoarse and laboured, with foam spitting from their lips. He spelled the creatures’ minds to calm them, but they were near exhaustion. He needed time to gather his thoughts, time to cast some spells, but his pursuers kept after him and time was in short supply.
More riders had caught up behind and they were yelling for him to halt. Samuel realised that they would soon overcome him, but his frantic mind could not tell him what else to do. ‘Gods and devils,’ he muttered, glancing at his blood-soaked, ruined arm. Something white was visible jutting from his flesh and Samuel looked away.
A third rider had caught up and now galloped alongside. The man leapt from his mount and onto the seat beside Samuel. It was the Royal Guard who had waited with Samuel in the courtyard, the spokesman, and his face was filled with anger.
‘I’ll teach-’ he began, but Samuel swung his boot up into the man’s jaw and teeth flew to the winds.
The guard clutched at his face with one hand, but recovered quickly, his wide eyes glaring through his bloodied fingers. His other hand drew his sword cleanly from its sheath and he raised it high, but Samuel’s foot struck again, knocking the guard head over heels from the carriage and onto the cobbled street. A momentary yelp of pain sounded as he struck the stones behind.
The horses faltered and Samuel knew he could expect little more from them. There were still other riders behind and he knew they were only biding their time, waiting for his horses to tire.
Gritting his teeth, Samuel realised he would have to abandon the carriage. If he tried to go on, they would overcome him and all would be lost. He sealed his arm in a clot of spells to cover the pain and wrapped it in as much magic as he could to hold in his blood. It felt like a log of rubber dangling from his shoulder. Again, he damned himself for his foolishness.
Gathering his wits, Samuel realised he had a few moments to spare. Seizing the opportunity, he leapt from the carriage and onto the cobbled street, rolling to his feet as the carriage flew on. Spinning on his heels, he saw that three cloaked riders were closing upon him. They were magicians and spells were blooming to life around them.
Samuel darted down the first street he could, supporting his useless arm with the other, and he felt a spell of some nature striking his defences. His spell shield was weakened somewhat, but held. It would only take a few such strikes before it failed completely and he would be defenceless. Running was not usually a sensible choice when facing magicians, but now it was the only option left to him. With his arm in its current state and blood seeping out everywhere, Samuel had no idea how he could possibly defeat them.
The riders followed him down the dark street with their black robes billowing behind them and, desperately, Samuel kicked in the first door he came to.
The house was dark inside and, as he ran in, a number a people leapt up from their beds on the floor, yelling in surprise and fear. Samuel sensed an exit from the room and darted between wailing children. He met a set of stairs, lit in hues of grey, and he took them in leaping bounds. Behind, the mages followed on foot amongst the cries of the children.
Samuel burst out onto the roof of the building. Stars shone faintly between the rows of washing that was strung out atop the roof. Something struck him unexpectedly, like a blow from a hammer, between the shoulder blades and he staggered, turning as best he could. At the base of the stairs, a magician was glaring up at him. He looked perhaps a few years older than Samuel and he seemed familiar. Perhaps he had been one of the Adept who had graduated when Samuel first arrived at the school. Whoever he was, his spells were certainly powerful enough to overcome Samuel in his present state. The man threw his arms out and Samuel dived aside, feeling a second knot of magic blister past.
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.
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