The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3)

by Michael Foster

  ‘Why are we running?’ Leopold asked. ‘Can’t you defeat it?’

  ‘Of course not, or I would not run,’ the magician panted. ‘His armour is impregnable. The stones of the old School of Magic have been fused upon him and within him, replacing his skin and bones. They came originally from Mount Karthma—the most powerful concentration of magic in the world; at least, it was until a star destroyed it. It has been worked to quell any spells that meet it. I never planned to defeat him. Not myself. I only wanted to lure him into place. Hopefully, Captain Orrell is ready. I can delay the general no longer. It’s now or never.’

  Samuel stopped, skidding in the mud, and faced the thing as it lumbered towards them. Desperate hope filled the magician’s eyes, as if all his plans relied on this single moment. Leopold waited beside him as the Ruardin beast bellowed again, its footsteps shaking the earth.

  Captain Orrell’s men bounded down the palace steps, vaulting as many at a time as they could. The captain scurried down behind them, dragging Jessicah by the hand.

  ‘Run!’ Orrell shouted towards the pair, and Leopold and Samuel did as they were told, turning once again from the roaring creature and heading towards the palace gates. Another jet of flame tore after them, searing the earth.

  There was a deafening, sharp bang and Leopold was thrown sideways. He flailed his arms and legs wildly, sprawling onto his chest in the mud. He rolled over, wide eyed, to hear the loud crack that followed. He whirled about, desperate to see what new attack was upon them, but the sounds had not come from General Ruardin. The beast was still lumbering after them, ignorant to the explosion at the heart of the palace.

  A cloud of dust and smoke was rising from between the buildings and then, the impossibly tall High Tower of Cintar began to lean. There was another set of audible cracks, the sounds of failing stone and supports, and it tilted further. It gathered momentum until there was no doubt about which direction it was falling—directly towards the beast ... towards them.

  Captain Orrell was at Leopold’s side, pulling him out of the mud and dragging him away, but Leopold could not take his eyes from the sight of the tower as it crumbled. Huge stones shattered across the palace, collapsing the buildings beneath it. Concrete grey plumes of dust gushed from the palace entrance and poured out over the steps.

  The upper half of the tower slammed into the ground, its segments crashing down and creating a path of devastation, making the ground shudder tremendously. General Ruardin lay in that path, vanishing under the rain of stone. Everything disappeared in the billowing clouds that filled their eyes and lungs.

  Leopold panted, doing his best not to inhale the thick and choking matter. Samuel appeared beside him, not that he could see the man, for it was black as midnight in that cloud; he recognised the magician from his stance.

  ‘Is it dead?’ Leopold asked fearfully, his voice high and thin beyond control.

  A looming shadow answered his question. The shudders of its giant footsteps were unmistakable. The beast roared as it advanced, dust swirling in tight spirals from its back.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Leopold asked with disbelief, putting his hand to his sword—a sign of despair; he knew he had no chance of using it.

  ‘We go,’ Samuel answered. ‘Orrell’s men can finish this work.’

  Leopold saw what he meant. The Ruardin beast neared, the shroud of dust around it thinned, and raw pink skin was visible where armour had once been. Shards of the magical stone clung in places, but the beast bled badly from its wounds. Orrell’s men wasted no time and rushed to meet it, yelling courageously, peppering it with arrows from a distance, darting in and pushing their swords deep into its flesh, and springing out of its reach.

  It roared in pain, thrashing about, desperate to repel them. On closer scrutiny, Leopold thought its eyes—barely visible between the wavering tentacles—resembled something human, and in that moment he felt sorrow for the man, a face of misery; the remnants of a man become a monster, his actions deemed righteous to the end.

  ‘A pity to finish this way,’ the magician said.

  ‘Samuel, you look hurt,’ Jessicah called out, coughing and meeting them through the cloud.

  ‘It is nothing,’ he responded. ‘I have much to do yet. Come, Leopold, Captain Orrell can clean up from here. Once he finishes off the general, its underlings will be routed and the summoned beasts with be banished. We have more work to do before we can rest. Jessicah, the captain will protect you. I would take you back to the ship with me, but I need Leopold and I cannot take you both. I need what little strength I have left.’ He grabbed a passing soldier by the neck and lifted the poor man from his feet. ‘Take this woman to the captain,’ he told the soldier. ‘Guard her with your life or you will answer to me.’ The man blanched at the magician’s threat, and nodded vigorously. ‘Tell the captain to clear the city once the beast is dead. The Order—Rei’s Order—is broken. Her soldiers will be disoriented and easily overcome. Some may revert to sanity, so don’t kill them all if they seem coherent.’

  The man acknowledged the magician. ‘Come with me, My Lady,’ he said as Samuel released him, and led Jessicah away quickly, the both of them disappearing into the grey shroud.

  Samuel took a deep breath as he neared Leopold and grabbed him around the waist with one arm. Leopold winced, for he knew what would follow and, surely enough, the next instant Leopold’s stomach nearly dropped into his legs as they vaulted together into the sky. The streets were a blur below them, filled with Rei’s armies making for and beating on the palace gates, horned, winged and taloned beasts beside them.

  As they sped to the sea, shot over the broken gap in the great walls and left the city behind, a mighty bellow issued from behind. Those flying things beating their wings in the air, and the beasts roaming the streets vanished. The throngs of haggard soldiers staggering around shook their heads or fell to the ground; the general was dead.

  Leopold hoped they would land lightly on the deck of the Farstride, but they dropped lower and lower as they approached, clearly not going to make it to the ship.

  The magician grimaced in pain as he struggled to hold them level. ‘We’re going to get wet,’ he stated, and in one neat movement he rolled in the air, threading out of his cloak and letting it whip away behind them. He let go of Leopold’s hand momentarily, and snatched him back before he fell too far; in that instant Leopold’s heart nearly succeeded in jumping out his mouth.

  Samuel laboured to stay aloft in those last few moments, approaching the Farstride on a trajectory that would have them crash into the side of it.

  ‘Here you go!’ Samuel said, releasing him, and Leopold dropped like a stone.

  The water struck hard and rushed around him, bubbling in his ears. He kicked for the surface tenaciously. Thankfully, being raised beside the sea made him a strong swimmer and he broke the surface, took a gulp of air, and blinked the salt from his eyes. Not far in front of him, the magician splashed down clumsily with a heavy splat, sending up a column of water and spray.

  When Samuel did not shortly come to the surface, Leopold began to worry. With long strokes he reached the place where the water was disturbed, expecting a body to bob up any moment. The magician, however, surfaced halfway back to the ship, continuing to swim the rest of the way without aid.

  Leopold sighed and followed after him, his solace being that the magician moved slowly, not a strong swimmer without the aid of his powers, and they reached the ship together.

  Sailors were calling out to them and some had jumped in to help Leopold, and together they struggled up the rope netting hanging over the side. Samuel was exhausted and without assistance; no sailors dared come close to him, focussing instead on aiding their Emperor and pretending the magician did not exist.

  As he neared the top, hands reached over and pulled him up, and Leopold found it was Daneel who had taken hold.

  ‘Welcome back, Your Majesty,’ greeted the man with a cheeky smile.

  He pulled Leopold to safe
ty and as soon as Daneel had released his hand, Leopold dropped gasping in a puddle upon the deck.

  ‘How goes the battle!’ Riggadardian asked, standing over him.

  ‘It is gone. The battle is done,’ Samuel replied on Leopold’s behalf, bent over and panting. The commander’s cautious expression turned to relief. ‘Orrell is mopping up the dregs as we speak.’ The exhausted magician refused to rest, and staggered about on wobbling legs, regaining his breath.

  ‘What of our losses? Were they significant?’ the ship’s commander asked.

  ‘I didn’t notice,’ Samuel said, stumbling up towards his cabin. Remarkably, he was already dry. ‘Leopold!’ he cried over his shoulder and the young man painstakingly got to his feet and hurried after him in his dripping boots, lead strapped to his legs.

  Riggadardian followed Leopold along the narrow passage to Samuel’s cabin, assaulting him with questions he had no time to answer. The magician, leaning against his doorframe, stopped the man abruptly.

  ‘Commander, you won’t be needed,’ he said and feebly waved one hand to send the fellow away, before entering his room.

  ‘But, Emperor Leopold!’ Riggadardian whispered urgently, before Leopold escaped into the room.

  ‘I’m sorry, Commander,’ Leopold told the man. ‘It will have to wait.’ And he shut the door in his face.

  The magician was by the casket when Leopold swung around.

  ‘Lock the door,’ Samuel gasped and Leopold did so, fumbling the tiny bolt into place.

  ‘What are we doing?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘We go to save your kinfolk, as you requested,’ Samuel replied weakly.

  ‘But you need to rest.’

  ‘I can rest when I’m dead,’ the magician replied grimly. He was not so intimidating without his cloak, and as Leopold was thinking this Samuel reached into a chest and pulled out another deep black cloth, which he donned without delay. ‘Dying is not what I’m afraid of. Remember what I said, Leopold. It is up to you to put me in here if so required.’ He tapped the wood of the casket. ‘Come. Let us journey to Seakeep. This is not over yet and I made a promise. I am growing weary and there is much to do if I am to save your half-sisters and their mothers. The forces sent to Seakeep may have lost their way, or they may have their own general to keep them directed. We cannot be sure until we see for ourselves. I need you to come with me and guard my casket. If I fail, I will do my best to hold off what lurks within me. It will be up to you to get me inside.’

  Samuel swigged from a bottle of water and Leopold, realising how thirsty he was, grabbed it after the magician and finished its contents with gulping draughts.

  ‘But what are we doing in here?’ he asked. ‘We should get the ship ready to leave at once.’ As the last word left his lips there was a flash, and the room changed.

  It took Leopold a moment to gain his bearings, for a window sat beside him and through it he recognised the dreary courtyards of Seakeep. They had travelled all the way in an instant, Samuel’s glistening black coffin accompanying them, taking up the centre of the room, crushing the low, narrow bed it had appeared upon. People were screaming outside and the sounds of battle filled the air.

  ‘What—’ Leopold began to ask.

  ‘Don’t ask. Just lock the door and bar the window. Wait for me to return and don’t forget what I told you. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Samuel opened the door and immediately flew backwards, thrown onto his back at astounded Leopold’s feet. He had a crossbow bolt protruding from between his eyes and Leopold gawked at the dead magician in horror.

  ‘By the gods!’ shrieked Leopold, taken by surprise.

  An Order soldier, blackened, grimy with filth, blood and gore, stomped into the room with a spent crossbow in his hand, and leered at Leopold. The bloodlust on his face showed humanity had left him, and he considered the magician on the floor with a maniacal grin. He dropped his crossbow to the floor with a clunk, and drew his sword hissing from its sheath. Gurgling laughter sounded from between his putrid, rotten teeth.

  Leopold, shivering with fright, proved no threat, and so the soldier stood over the body of Samuel and, with a solid downward thrust, plunged his sword deep into the magician’s chest. He howled with laughter, only faltering when he tried to pull the blade free and realised it would not come, stuck in a bone. Putting his boot on the magician’s corpse, he grunted and tugged to draw it out.

  Leopold took his chance to escape and made for the window, babbling with fear. The fool magician had been taken unawares and now he would have to take flight for his life.

  He only had one boot up onto the window ledge when there was a thudding noise behind him, of something sizeable falling to the floor.

  ‘I told you to stay here,’ sounded the voice of Samuel, and Leopold froze. He was unsure if he should turn around or take his chance and run, haunted by the voice of a dead man. ‘Close the window before you get hurt.’

  Leopold put his foot back to the floor, and prepared for the worst. He turned reluctantly.

  Samuel stood unharmed, with the soldier dead instead—the man’s own sword embedded through his chest, no wound visible upon the magician’s chest and nothing protruding from between his eyes—no scratch on his skin to confirm what Leopold had seen. The spent bolt lay on the rug at Samuel’s feet, clean as if unfired.

  ‘What—what happened?’ Leopold stammered. ‘You were—’

  ‘Dead?’ The magician shook his head. ‘No. This body does not expire so easily. I have many spells to save me from such an end. Flesh is repaired as easily as cloth. Even so, my soul is hanging by a lingering thread. It is only detaching the last tiny stitch which is the trick I have yet to discover.’ He looked unhappily to the dead man at his feet. ‘This low-breed took me by surprise and, given my state, I was in no hurry to stand up. Oh well. I had better get to it.’

  He bent and picked up one foot of the dead man and dragged the body into the hall with him as he left, leaving Leopold to hastily bar the door. He closed the window and waited.

  Nothing to do to pass the time, Leopold looked out a crack between the window boards. He saw a number of the Order hurrying across the stones.

  The noises of battle continued for some time, diminishing as if the fighting was moving further away, and finally no sounds at all. The courtyard was chillingly quiet.

  Leopold waited, shivering in his wet clothes, afraid to venture outside. After a while, he opened the shutter and leaned out to take a look: no sign of life; only corpses littering the ground.

  All was silent, when a bang on the door made him jump.

  ‘Samuel?’ Leopold asked through the timber.

  Another bang, softer. Leopold drew his sword—it was stubborn, gummed up with the blood of the creature Jessicah had killed on his behalf. He lifted the bar and pulled open the door. Samuel was there, covered in blood, his eyes rolling in his head. The magician fell in and Leopold caught him, his sword clattering to the floor, floundering under the weight.

  The magician’s fingers shook and feebly gestured at the coffin. ‘Quickly,’ he croaked, and Leopold dragged him into the room.

  He set the magician down, and grappled with the clasps. Lifting the lid, he found a plush, man-sized chamber inside, a trophy case for a human.

  ‘Inside,’ the magician urged through clenched teeth. He was rigid, muscles tight. ‘Quickly.’

  Leopold picked him up and put him in. Strangely, he was not as heavy as Leopold assumed, more skin and bone hidden beneath his robes than anything else.

  ‘I couldn’t catch their general,’ the magician said as Leopold positioned him into the box. ‘He fled with the remains of his army, but I doubt they’ll be back soon. He won’t live long after what I did to him. I assured that.’

  ‘Now what?’ Leopold asked, once the magician was snugly inside.

  ‘Close the lid,’ Samuel whispered with the last of his strength.

  Leopold put both hands to the lid and was about to shut it when the
magician whispered again.

  ‘What is it, Samuel?’ Leopold asked, putting his ear near to the magician’s lips.

  The magician’s hand came up and clenched Leopold’s forearm so fiercely it hurt. ‘Leopold,’ he said stubbornly, ‘you must call me Lord Samuel. And clean your damned sword. Your father would die again if he saw it like that. Now ... close the lid.’

  Leopold brought the lid shut and closed the clasps.

  He waited; it was perfectly quiet inside the box. He put his ear to its surface and waited longer; no sign of life. He thought about opening it, checking if the magician needed anything. On further consideration he decided against it. Lord Samuel had been clear on what should be done.

  Leopold could only wait. He shut and re-bolted the door, pacing idly beside the casket.

  Noises from outside brought his attention and he looked cautiously into the courtyard once more.

  A couple of bloodied Turian guards were calling down below, beside a gaping hole where a wall once stood. Many keep structures had been destroyed, and those buildings that remained had been ravaged. It was only luck that Leopold’s hiding place was one of the few rooms that had escaped unscathed, or that it was the magician’s room and no one had dared enter it. Who could tell?

  ‘Ahoy there!’ Leopold hailed to those below.

  ‘Who’s that?’ one of the men called back to him.

  ‘Leopold,’ he replied. ‘Is it clear?’

  ‘Ah ... it appears so,’ the man replied. ‘We were done for, until the magician appeared and chased them off. We locked ourselves indoors—we thought he was coming for us next. Like a demon he was. Thankfully it was not our blood he was after. After he took care of the first lot, he chased the rest of them over the causeway.’

  ‘What of the women folk?’ Leopold asked.

  ‘Locked safely in the cellars. We’ll let them out once we’re sure it’s all clear. Hardly anyone is left alive out here. It was a slaughter.’

  With that, more guards ran into the courtyard and they talked together hurriedly.