‘We could call a meeting,’ one man suggested.
‘Or a demonstration,’ another called out, ‘to show him some of those spells he has always been pestering us about.’
Anthem nodded to them. ‘Good, good. This is what we want—some decent ideas to throw around. We just have one more tiny obstacle. I must personally find my way to the Emperor to use the new dispelling magic; however, as I’m a wanted man, I cannot allow myself to be seen. I also need young Samuel here to assist me, but he, too, is wanted on sight.’
‘Argh!’ Master Vomer called out, throwing his hands up in frustration. ‘You bring before us an infallible plan that is fouled from the start! How are we to manage all these things you speak of?’
‘I do have a plan,’ Anthem replied patiently, ‘but it requires all of you to assist me. I don’t mean to start sounding rude, but all you old fools have spent your lives complaining about the Emperor and how much you’d like to see the end of him, and when I bring you one good chance to be rid of him, all you do is moan! Listen to what I have prepared. I am suggesting that we call a meeting in the Great Hall, to show the Emperor what we have learned to help with his war. Some of his bodyguards will be there, but most of his soldiers will be forced to wait outside. Samuel and I will be secreted away, under the floorboards or some such where they will not be able to find us. The main problem, of course, is that the Council will insist on attending any such meeting and there are other details we will need to predict and account for, such as how we will explain whatever happens to the guards in the room. We don’t want to be cut to pieces immediately following our great success.’
The old men were all quiet and looked to each apologetically.
‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ another old Master admitted. ‘It does sound like the makings of a reasonable plan. What about if we meet again next week and see what we can think up by then?’
‘That is also a problem, Master Sandringham,’ Anthem stated. ‘You see, we do not have so long. For reasons I don’t want to get into just now, time is of the very essence. We may only have a few days at most to act before our chance is gone forever.’
The men again began murmuring their frustrations to each other.
‘Very well, Grand Master,’ the wiry Master Vomer spoke up. ‘We all like a challenge. I’m sure that between us we can find a way to perfect your idea. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really had nothing else planned for today, except growing another day older towards my grave. Let’s put our heads together and think of something!’
It was then that the door burst inwards and a sea of soldiers came pushing in, shouting and brandishing swords and spears. The room was small, and the magicians had spear-tips pressed up against them as the soldiers pushed into the room. Behind the men came a handful of black-cloaked magicians. The room was full of shouting and confusion as everyone jostled to move away from the raised and pointed weapons.
‘Hold where you are!’ cried a tall man as he pushed through the soldiers and into the room. It was High Lord Rimus. He held his arms up, so that his black sleeves, sewn with silver circles, hung around his elbows. ‘At first sign of a spell you will all be run through.’
Anthem raised his hand to make his presence known. ‘What is the meaning of this, Rimus?’
‘I should ask you the same. There is obviously some kind of plot taking place here and you are all colluding with some of the Empire’s most dangerous foes. You will all come peacefully to the palace and await the Emperor’s questioning, under guard. Refuse and I will instruct these men to kill you all. You are all to be tried for treason against the Empire.’
The old magicians looked at each other with dread on their faces. Samuel thought that the room of experienced magicians could easily defeat a few other magicians and guards, but not one of them began to ready any power. They seemed too afraid to dare anything.
Anthem must have come to the same conclusion as he, too, looked around the room at his worried fellows. ‘We will come,’ he accepted with a sigh.
‘Take them away,’ Rimus instructed and the soldiers began to prod with their spear points. As the old magicians were herded out the narrow doorway and down the stairs, Samuel began to tense—angered and readying to throw out his magic. A hand on his shoulder made him look around. It was Tulan and he spoke softly at Samuel’s side.
‘Go with them, Samuel,’ he said quietly. ‘Your plan was doomed from the start. They knew all along. Please forgive me.’
‘You bastard!’ Eric said, obviously having overheard and he launched himself forward, punching Tulan full on the chin. They all nearly fell down the stairs and would have if not for the sheer number of people crammed onto them.
The soldiers became agitated and raised their spears as best they could, but Tulan held up his palm to calm them, while the other hand rubbed at his reddened jaw.
‘Don’t worry,’ Tulan said, quietly to Samuel. ‘This is the best way. I will take care of everything. Just go with them.’
The soldiers ushered them all through the tavern and out into the street. Samuel could not believe that Tulan had betrayed them, whatever his reasons. They had worked so hard to get this far and now it was over. More soldiers and magicians were waiting outside, so their chances of escaping were reduced even further. There was no sign of Goodfellow, so it seemed that he, at least, had escaped.
People along the docks were all gathering around to look at the strange sight of the magicians’ arrest. Quite a crowd was forming and the streets were becoming clogged as everyone strained to look over each other’s shoulders. A few soldiers were attempting to move the crowd on, but it was not until they finally lost their tempers and levelled their spears that the crowd finally began to part. The soldiers then gestured to the magicians to continue on and they began marching towards the palace, shouting for the crowds to clear all the way. Samuel looked around for Tulan, but the man was no longer with them.
‘What shall we do, Grand Master?’ Samuel asked, pushing in next to Anthem.
The old man shook his head. ‘We may be brought before the Emperor sooner than we wished. Stay ready. We still may be able to go ahead with our plan if the chance presents itself, even if it is not on our original terms.’
‘Where is Goodfellow?’ Eric asked, squeezing in beside them.
Samuel looked around. ‘I did not see him. I was hoping he saw the soldiers coming and managed to escape.’
‘And Master Glim is still free,’ Lomar mentioned, also suddenly beside them. ‘They are our hope.’
‘Unless Tulan has double-crossed them also,’ Eric said dryly.
‘I would like to think not,’ Samuel said. ‘He doesn’t need to.
‘But that was quite a surprise,’ Lomar added. ‘I can’t fathom why he would help us and then capture us when he could have done so at any time before.’
‘That is why I feel we may have a second chance,’ Grand Master Anthem responded.
When they arrived at the palace, the enormous gates were closed fast. A crowd had followed them all the way, gawking and gossiping at the spectacle of magicians under arrest. Samuel was almost relieved when the gates opened just enough to allow them entry and then boomed firmly shut behind them, sealing out the awful cacophony of the crowd.
A large number of soldiers were standing in formation before the palace—several thousand at least. Surrounded on either side by the soldiers, about a hundred magicians also stood waiting—looking altogether disorganised compared to the stiff lines of attentive soldiers.
‘Eh?’ Samuel heard the old Grand Master mutter beside him. ‘What’s all this then?’
High Lord Rimus led them between the two starkly contrasting groups to the palace steps, where the other councillors, including Tulan, were waiting.
Samuel dismissed any thought of trying to escape. He had never seen so many armed men in one place.
‘Is this the army?’ Samuel asked of Lomar on his other side.
Lomar shook his head. ‘This
is part of the Royal Guard—hand-picked to protect the palace. They are but a part of the Emperor’s forces here in Cintar, which are but a fraction of his entire army.’
Just then, more soldiers came out of the palace and started down the long palace stairs, followed by a small cluster of black-cloaked magicians. The distinctive shapes of Dividian and the Archmage were visible amongst them. Behind them, with golden-armoured bodyguards at their sides, strode a man and a woman, both splendidly dressed. The man was surrounded in such a cage of spells that Samuel had never before witnessed. There were layers-upon-layers of magic around the man, each so thick that Samuel had to dull his sight completely just to catch a glimpse of the man’s features.
‘Who are they?’ Samuel asked the brown-skinned magician in a soft voice.
‘It’s the Emperor and his latest wife—Empress Lillith,’ Lomar responded.
‘How many wives does he have?’ Eric asked.
‘About thirty, I think,’ the wiry magician replied, ‘and forty-seven daughters.’
Samuel was flabbergasted. ‘But the man looks barely in his forties!’
‘He is ninety-seven years old,’ Lomar revealed. ‘The power of the Staff of Elders is beyond anything we magicians can begin to imagine. It cannot, however, grant him the son he has always wanted. According to Master Celios, only Empress Lillith can do that, so the other wives have all been relegated to a distant second place behind her.’
The five Lions were there, waiting at the front of the Adept along with a few other old magicians.
‘Anthem’s old friends seem to have also been informed of our treachery,’ Samuel whispered.
‘So it seems,’ was Lomar’s reply. ‘Thankfully for us, they are still free and still seem to be on good terms with the Emperor. I am assuming, of course, that they are not involved in turning us in.’
After a few moments of talking with the councillors, the Emperor stepped to the front of the assembly and began to address them all.
‘Well,’ the Emperor spoke as he began his address. His voice was as youthful as his looks and sounded deep and confident. ‘It looks like everyone is here, so we can finally begin. Today is a wonderful day.’ And he looked at the gathering of soldiers and magicians and smiled sincerely. ‘How it warms me to have such a bountiful empire. My Royal Guard—dedicated to protecting me and my city.’ He looked to the Archmage and the gathering of councillors. ‘My faithful magicians—forever aiding my people with their spells and wonderful magical feats.’ He then pointed to Samuel and the gathering of old men with a frown. ‘And these traitorous vermin.’ The old men whispered nervously to each other at this as the Emperor began to stroll back and forth before them. ‘I see we have finally found the venerable Grand Master Anthem, at last revealing his true colours. I would never have thought you would resort to organising such an ill-fated effort to rebel against me. I was hoping you would do slightly better than this sorry effort. How you have fallen in your old age. When you were younger, you could kill men like you were plucking the heads off daisies. You killed five men for every one my Lions could defeat. Nobody could kill his own countrymen like the great Janus Anthem. How sad you look now, huddled amongst your quivering brothers-in-treachery. How the mighty have fallen.’
He then began pacing along the stairs. ‘The Order of Magicians has been such a mixed blessing to me over the years. On the one hand, you have been such a boon, granting my people health and improving my Empire in so many ways, but on the other, you have become ever so tiresome with your constant accursed nagging and bickering and pulling of my ear. This latest escapade of yours has helped me to make up my mind that the Order has deviated too far from its original purpose. Even my beloved Lions have proved to be traitors.’ At that, the five Grand Masters standing at the front of the gathering turned to face their Emperor with surprise on their faces. ‘Only a select few will be chosen to remain. The Order has been something of a failed attempt, but I will start again with a new generation of fresh-thinking and enthusiastic young men. For all of you gathered here, you shall immediately be executed.’ At that, the crowd of gathered magicians began to murmur and jostle nervously. ‘General,’ the Emperor instructed as he turned and began back up the stairs, ‘you may begin.’
General Ruardin nodded and a captain standing beside him drew his sword and raised it high. At that, all the Royal Guards slid their weapons from their sheaths as one and turned inwards to face the cluster of magicians pinned between their ranks. The Archmage and the councillors were the only magicians present that were to be spared and they made sure to keep their distance from the others, safely on the stairs. Tulan stood beside the Archmage with his arms folded. His expression was unreadable. The aged magician beside him leaned upon the Staff of Elders, with a thin smile of expectation on his lips.
‘Ah,’ Eric stammered nervously. ‘I hope this is where we do have some kind of plan.’
Magic began to be summoned all around as the horrified magicians began marshalling their defences, but another spell, surging forth from the Staff of Elders, rippled through the air, wasting their efforts completely. Even the five Lions, with soldiers bearing down on them with long spears, could do nothing to summon their power, and looked to each other with worried expressions. Samuel, too, could feel the Staff of Elders smothering his efforts to draw from the ether. Its power was absolute against them, especially as it had been brought to task before any of them could prepare against it.
‘You may continue, General,’ Archmage Ordi croaked, and the general again nodded to his captain.
As the captain swung his sword down ceremoniously, the Royal Guard began pushing inwards, stabbing and slashing at the magicians nearest to their blades. Panicked magicians began pushing in towards each other, falling and crushing against each other to escape the encroaching danger. The Lions had been herded down the few remaining steps with the others, and were regarding the spears before them anxiously. Magicians screamed and fell in scores as the soldiers worked at hacking them down.
‘For Garteny!’ someone called out above the din and Samuel turned his head just in time to see Tulan dragging a dagger across the Archmage’s neck. Tulan’s blade was wrought with silver-hewn spells that turned the Archmage’s own defences to scraps of screeching, wasted magic. Scarlet fluid spat from the old man’s ruined throat, in stark contrast to the brilliant silver and blue hues of the spells writhing wildly around him. General Ruardin stepped forward. His blade came out in a flash and would have had Tulan’s head cut clean off, but Tulan snapped a spell in place—somehow prepared against the Archmage’s nullifying field— and the general’s sword flew up uncontrollably, almost out of his hands. Blood continued to gush from the Archmage’s slit throat. The old man coughed and clutched at the wound with wild disbelief in his eyes as he toppled forward onto his face upon the stairs. The Staff of Elders abruptly ceased its spell and the oppressive force that had kept the magicians from their magic vanished.
‘For the Order!’ came another cry, and magic began flying out of the old magicians in every direction at once. Soldiers, who moments before had been slashing and hacking with wild abandon, began to fly aside like rag dolls. Seeing this and realising that all was now not going to plan, the Emperor began hurrying up the stairs with his wife and bodyguards in tow.
‘Take care of this, General!’ he commanded over his shoulder, dragging the alarmed figure of Empress Lillith by the hand. ‘Finish it quickly!’
The councillors had scattered away from the fallen body of Archmage Ordi and they were all scurrying up the stairs after the Emperor. In their hurry to save their own skins, not one of them had thought to pick up the Staff of Elders from where it lay, beside the body of the Archmage, covered in blood upon the palace steps.
‘Kill them! Kill the cursed magicians!’ came a cry from the Royal Guard. A group of bowmen darted up along the stairs and readied themselves to launch their missiles into the crowd of black-cloaks.
‘Run!’ Eric cried out.
Some of the old men had sense enough to defend themselves with spells, but others had either no time or no such spells, and were hit by deadly missiles or hacked down by nearby swords. A group of nearby soldiers flew into the air with cries of fear as Grand Master Anthem waved them away with a gesture and spell.
‘Go now! Break through!’ Anthem called out.
Samuel and his group fled out through the opening the old Grand Master had made and a tide of old magicians followed behind them, like black sand spilling from a cracked vase.
‘What is Tulan doing?’ Eric shouted beside Samuel. ‘First he damns us; then he helps us!’
‘It’s his plan!’ Samuel called back, ‘He’s given us a chance! The Archmage is dead and the Emperor is on the run.’
The two of them stepped away from the pack of magicians with a cluster of soldiers hacking at their tails. Samuel could see General Ruardin and his men cutting at the five Lions, but the wily magicians could not be felled so easily and were matching them, spell for stroke. If they could just be given a chance to gather themselves, the five old Grand Masters could begin blasting away at the soldiers in earnest.
‘We must get to the Emperor before more troops arrive!’ Grand Master Anthem hissed to Samuel. ‘Now is our chance to kill him!’
‘How?’ Samuel asked, spying the Emperor and his group already nearing the top of the palace stairs.
Despite the assistance of their spells, the magicians were sorely outnumbered and were falling under sword strokes, being peppered by arrows or skewered by spears by the dozen. Armoured and cloaked legs hurried all around as the conflict fell into bedlam in every direction. Spells blistered through the air and bodies from both factions lay everywhere.
A horn sounded from the great palace gates, which began to swing open, letting even more soldiers into the palace grounds. A magician appeared beside them, dropping deftly from the top of the great wall and throwing a spell onto the opening gates. The great structures began to close again as if by their own accord, while the guards all struggled in vain against them. The gates boomed back together and held firm, leaving just a handful of men inside the grounds, pulling fruitlessly to open the gates once again. Samuel could not recognise the magician from this distance, but he could recognise the spell—it was Master Glim. The man began sprinting about as if he were twenty years younger, throwing spells left and right as he darted between spear and sword alike.
The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 56
