The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy)

by Foster, Michael

  Samuel pressed his face against the bars and gawked at the tall man swinging around outside. ‘Lomar?’ Samuel said, peering between the bars. ‘When did you learn to fly?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Lomar grunted, his face now visible beyond the bars, creased with effort. ‘I’m on a rope—and it’s cutting me in half!’

  ‘What are you doing out there?’ Samuel asked incredulously.

  ‘Trying to set you free…and trying not to kill myself in the process!’

  ‘How, may I ask?’ Master Glim questioned, coming to stand beside Samuel.

  ‘Spells work perfectly fine out here,’ Lomar explained. ‘Once I get you out, you will be able to spell as much as you please. Now, if you will.’

  ‘Step back,’ Master Glim urged as Lomar began a spell.

  Samuel did as instructed, while Lomar began to concentrate his energy upon the cell window. His spell took hold of the bars, which began twisting and turning as the magic did its work. Flecks of mortar began popping into the air and, one by one, each bar groaned and snapped and clunked onto the floor with a resounding clang.

  ‘Not bad,’ Master Glim noted, examining the cleared window. The stubs of the bars were hot to the touch and Master Glim’s finger hissed as he tested one. ‘Ai!’ he spat and shook his fingers in the air and sucked on the injured digit. Samuel managed a smile and shook his head at his teacher.

  ‘Come now!’ Lomar urged with a grunt as he struggled with his makeshift harness. ‘Get out of there before I fall to my death.’

  Samuel was first into action. He pushed his head out the window and observed the ground far below. It was distressingly far to the ground and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He gulped and closed his eyes a moment, trying hard to calm himself.

  ‘Master Pot and Master Goodfellow are assisting me,’ Lomar noted, ‘but my poor stomach can only take so much. Try to hurry along!’

  ‘Can it hold both of us?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘It may,’ Lomar responded. ‘But I do not think that the Erics can. They can only take our combined weight for a moment—long enough for you to get out of the cell and cast yourself a spell. I hope you have something suitable ready.’

  Samuel nodded. He reached out and grabbed the rope just above Lomar’s head, and pulled himself slowly out. Despite his efforts, they both began to swing around and worried shouts of distress sounded from above.

  ‘Quickly, Samuel!’ Lomar urged frantically, as they slowly spun in the same place.

  Samuel felt helpless as he clung to the rough rope for all he was worth. A long fall awaited him should he slip and the dizzying heights made him all the more giddy. It did not even seem a particularly sturdy rope, all coarse and fraying. Magicians often lacked the more practical skills in life, Samuel quickly noted, such as being able to choose a decent rope and a more effective way of fixing it to Lomar, who looked to be in great discomfort.

  Samuel could feel his energy returning and the giddiness from the height was replaced with excitement as his magic returned to him.

  ‘Samuel!’ Lomar hissed.

  Samuel remembered himself and quickly cast out a spell. He pushed his feet out against the tower wall and then his hands followed, so that he clung to the side of the tower like a spider. He still felt nervous, hanging so far above the ground, but a smile lit his face as he enjoyed the taste of magic again.

  It was then Master Glim’s turn and he, too, popped his head out the window. He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the ground far below. People were still busy down in the palace grounds but, so far, none seemed to have noticed them. Master Glim sucked his bottom lip, no doubt imagining what would happen should he fall.

  ‘Master Glim,’ Lomar urged. ‘Hurry! My stomach can’t take much more of this!’

  In a moment, Master Glim had mustered his own skills and was out beside Samuel. The man looked terrified as he clung to the wall, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Samuel examined his teacher’s spell. It was not really so great in strength, but quite a mastery of efficiency.

  ‘You two look like a couple of overgrown butterflies,’ Lomar remarked with a grin, referring to their brightly coloured tunics.

  Samuel made a sour face. ‘You don’t like my tunic? It’s very popular with some.’

  ‘Yes,’ Master Glim agreed, ‘—with women! It was all his idea. Little good it did us.’

  Lomar started to laugh and then coughed. His face was turning bright red.

  ‘Down?’ Samuel asked him, looking far below.

  ‘Up! Up! Up!’ Lomar exclaimed excitedly and began quickly tugging on the rope.

  With a jerk from above, he began to rise, bumping and banging into the wall, grunting and muttering each time. Samuel took one last look inside the Mage Cell. He hoped he never saw its insides again. Nothing had made him feel that terrible for a long time—not since he had lost Leila. It was a different kind of feeling, but it filled him with the same strange despair and hopelessness.

  ‘Samuel,’ Master Glim said, ‘can you set one of your illusions inside? We don’t want to be missed.’

  It took a moment to become calm enough to cast another spell; then Samuel formed an illusion of himself and Master Glim, and set them in the cell. Thankfully, the spell held true and the two images sat quietly beside each other on the floor. Samuel grinned. Turning right side up, he followed Master Glim and the grunting Lomar up the tower’s side.

  ‘You should try our way,’ Samuel suggested to his lean friend.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Lomar said. ‘I would not like to see what would happen if you sneezed and forgot your spell, or a mage below noticed you and negated it. Despite the discomfort, this rope is doing me fine.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Samuel said, with a sudden uncomfortable realisation, and he quickened his pace up the wall.

  Samuel leapt over the top of the tower and landed beside a surprised Eric Pot and Eric Goodfellow, both straining with the remains of a long coil of rope.

  ‘Samuel!’ they exclaimed together.

  Master Glim followed him over and then an exceedingly bruised and buffeted Lomar clawed his way over the tall stones. The two Erics collapsed with relief as his weight finally left their hands. Their faces were red and their gloveless hands were raw and blistered. Samuel shook his head at them once more.

  ‘What has happened?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘The ceremony is due to begin within the very hour,’ Goodfellow answered. ‘Empress Lillith has vanished and General Ruardin has his men in a frenzy searching for her. The city folk don’t yet know about her disappearance, but when they find out the city will fall into a state of turmoil!’

  ‘What has happened to Grand Master Anthem?’ Master Glim asked.

  ‘He’s also nowhere to be found,’ Eric explained. The wind was stronger up here and it tugged at their clothes and whistled amongst the tower-top stones. ‘As we guessed, Rimus has somehow removed the Grand Master from the scene and we fear for the worst for him. We have been blamed for everything!’

  Samuel shivered in his thin tunic as it flapped and stuck to his skin. ‘So everyone who could possibly stop him is out of his way, except for us. What about Ash?’ he asked.

  ‘He still hasn’t been seen,’ Eric responded. ‘We have to be very careful who we speak to in the Order. Nobody knows whom to trust any more.’

  ‘We’ll discuss it downstairs,’ Master Glim said, himself shivering. ‘It’s a little too open here and far too windy for my liking.’

  They all agreed and Eric lifted the heavy trapdoor and they descended into the tower.

  They crept down the first narrow flight of stairs, past the door to the Archmage’s chambers. The other upper levels seemed deserted, but they grew more and more cautious as they descended. As they passed the level of the Mage Cell, Lomar urged them all to keep absolutely silent.

  ‘This level is full of guards,’ he whispered after they had passed the sturdy entrance. ‘After Samuel’s previous escape, they’re not taking any chances. I hope
your illusions fool them long enough for us to do our work.’

  ‘My spells will hold,’ Samuel whispered back. ‘The rest has done me wonders. As long as they don’t ask us any questions and they expect us to actually do nothing but sit and look blankly at each other, the illusions will fool anyone.’

  ‘With luck, our escape will not be noticed,’ Master Glim said. ‘The councillors will all be busy with the ceremony and the guards won’t be bothered to ask us about anything—I hope.’

  After they had descended several more flights of curling stairs, Master Glim stopped and put his ear carefully to an ornate door. After a moment he turned the brass handle and ventured in. ‘In here,’ he whispered.

  They crept inside the small chamber, which seemed to be someone’s living quarters. There was a large bed set against the wall, and some black robes hung on a stand by the door.

  ‘This is Lord Irshank’s chamber,’ Master Glim informed them. ‘I presume he is in the assembly room now, so we should be able to talk here uninterrupted. But first things first. I’ve got to get out of this ridiculous tunic.’ And he scowled again at Samuel.

  ‘So what do we do?’ Goodfellow asked, as Master Glim and Samuel began looking over Irshank’s enormous robes.

  ‘We have to keep Rimus from taking possession of the Staff of Elders,’ Samuel stated.

  ‘Yes,’ Lomar agreed. ‘He’s made us all out to be traitors and set himself up to be Archmage. We have to stop him.’

  ‘Can we ask the councillors for help?’ Eric questioned.

  Master Glim shook his head. ‘No. They may have been planning this with Rimus all the while. Either that or they’ve been fooled by him. As Eric said, we don’t know whom, if anyone, we can trust.’

  ‘But Rimus is waiting for the ceremony, so all the councillors can’t be aligned with him, or he would just have them undo the Manyspell around the Staff and hand it to him now,’ Goodfellow said.

  ‘True,’ Master Glim responded, ‘but any one of them could be with Rimus, and we don’t know which ones. Once we act, our advantage of surprise is lost, so we’d better get this right first time.’

  ‘We could just find Rimus and kill him,’ Eric suggested. ‘That would solve a lot of our problems.’

  Master Glim nodded. ‘We could, but we need to ferret out all the conspirators from the Order once and for all. Rimus could be just another pawn and, if we simply killed him, we may never find the true masterminds behind all this. It’s all become very convoluted and I cannot believe Rimus has orchestrated all this alone. No, we need to know where the Grand Master and the Empress are and we need to find Dividian and Master Ash. Once we do that, we can finally finish this sorry mess.’ He had slipped on one of Irshank’s robes and was securing it with cords—for it was far too big for him. ‘But first, we need to stop this infernal ordination.’

  ‘Wait,’ Samuel said. ‘What happened to Captain Orrell?’

  ‘After we returned to the city, he went to speak with General Ruardin,’ Lomar responded, ‘but we have not heard from him since. Who can guess what has happened?’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Goodfellow asked of those around him.

  ‘We must hurry,’ Samuel suggested. He had begun to rummage through Irshank’s drawers and had found a faded old cloak that seemed almost the right size. ‘The ceremony is about to begin. Rimus will be Archmage and he will have his hands on the Staff of Elders. Whatever he has been planning will be that much closer to him and our task will be much more difficult. I say we go in there now and confront him while we can.’

  Master Glim eyed Samuel back levelly while he contemplated the idea.

  Eric nodded. ‘I agree. The room will be full, but it may be the last chance we have. The Lions will support us at the very least.’

  ‘If we’re lucky, we can reveal Rimus’ plans for what they are and there won’t be any need for violence,’ Goodfellow put in.

  Master Glim looked at Lomar.

  ‘I think we have little choice,’ the tall man responded.

  Master Glim looked unconvinced and he chewed the thought over for a few moments. ‘Our plans seem based on hunches and hope. I was hoping for something a little more sound.’

  ‘If we can at least make our accusations before the entire gathering, it will grant us some time,’ Lomar said.

  ‘Then let’s go,’ Master Glim finally declared. ‘We have precious little time, but let’s take care—be prepared for anything.’

  They all agreed and cautiously left the room, with Master Glim and Samuel in their borrowed, ill-fitting robes.

  They reached the bottom of the tower without passing a soul and entered the palace proper, nodding to the busy servants they met there. They walked the many long halls without incident and crossed over to the High Tower. They began up its stairs towards the assembly chamber, where small events and meetings could be held. Guards were hurrying all about, but they paid the group no heed.

  When they reached the third level they branched away from the stairs towards the assembly chamber, following the long rolls of red carpet. Two armed men met them at the wide single door to the room.

  ‘Strange to see such men at an Order ceremony,’ Samuel noted.

  ‘That’s to ensure Rimus’ plans all go to plan—so to speak,’ Master Glim replied. ‘This is anything but a normal Order ceremony.’

  The two men seemed to recognise the group for who they were and were reaching for their swords when they both slumped to the floor, put to sleep with a flick of Master Glim’s wrist.

  Samuel stepped over them and led the way into the assembly chamber. It was an imposing room, easily able to seat two or three hundred people on its long rows of benches. The chamber was full of magicians who were buzzing with talk but, luckily, the ceremony had not yet begun. Most of those gathered were younger Masters, while the minority were many of the old magicians who had missed the slaughter in the palace and had now come to Cintar to witness the new Archmage being appointed. Some stood in the aisles and talked in small groups with each other, while the elder mages sat soberly in their places, waiting patiently. There had not been a new Archmage in most men’s lifetimes, so the event was cause for quite some interest.

  The Staff of Elders stood in the centre of the staged area, held upright on an ornate stand of polished, curved wood. Samuel could see an intricate web of spells around it—five spells from five different people, and they were tied in a marvellous way—simultaneously cast to be intertwined and interdependent in an ingenious knot of magic. Each spell would need to be removed simultaneously in order to get at the Staff. Given time, Samuel was sure he would be able to defeat such measures—as when he had dispelled the Emperor’s protection spells—but he doubted that anyone here would be willing to give him the opportunity.

  The councillors were seated in the front row and, as Samuel looked down, Lord Vander, shortest amongst the men, turned and spotted him. The man’s eyes opened wide and he began alerting the other councillors at once. Samuel leapt down the stairs and the others followed, but the councillors had already stood up to intercept them.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Lord Hathen boomed up at them, standing in the aisle and blocking their path with his hefty frame.

  Lord Vander put his hands on his waist and cleared his throat. He glared at Samuel and looked set to explode. ‘You people are wanted felons! You should not be here!’ he stated angrily. ‘And you!’ he looked directly at Samuel, ‘have escaped once again from the Mage Cell! This cannot be tolerated! That blasted thing is useless!’

  ‘Hold a moment, Lord Vander,’ Master Glim urged with a raised palm. ‘We had nothing to do with the Emperor’s death, or that of the Archmage. That was plain for everyone to see and we have no idea of what has happened to the Empress.’

  ‘You are a disgrace, Master Glim!’ Master Irshank bellowed, making his drooping chins wobble about furiously. He then looked about the room. ‘Somebody go fetch some more guards.’

  ‘Such nerve!’ Lor
d Butler said from behind, adding to the other councillors’ disdain.

  Samuel noticed two cloaked figures quietly stand and approach from the side of the room. Their auras spoke of power and they were readying their spells. Samuel looked around, hoping to spy the five Lions, but the celebrated magicians were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘We have to stop the ceremony, My Lords,’ Master Glim went on. ‘High Lord Rimus cannot be Archmage.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Irshank stated defiantly. ‘The ceremony will go on.’

  ‘At least delay it another few days,’ Lomar urged. ‘Wait for Grand Master Anthem to return. Wait for the Empress to be found.’

  Samuel could feel the tension of magic building in the chamber, and he realised that a confrontation was inevitable. He began to gather his own power in response.

  ‘That layabout! No one has seen him in days,’ Irshank stated. ‘He’s no better than the lot of you. He was probably even helping you with your vile plot to ruin the Empire. Now I will give you two choices. You can sit down and shut up or get out! Either way, you can all expect to be facing the most severe punishment when this is over. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Empress decides to hang you from the highest yard-poles—whenever they find her. I’m sure General Ruardin will certainly be interested in getting his hands on you.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s strange?’ Master Glim asked the councillors, ‘that just when the Empress vanishes, Grand Master Anthem also disappears and High Lord Rimus still insists on going on with the ceremony before any of this can be resolved? Why would it matter to postpone the ceremony for a few more days—a week, even?’

  ‘No,’ Irshank replied defiantly, ‘I don’t think it’s strange at all. The Empire is in danger of falling into chaos and what it needs is a figurehead—a stout Turian who knows the people and knows what they want! We need the power of the Staff ready to protect us. The city is on the verge of revolt. We need a new Archmage now!’

  ‘The Empire will not collapse in a matter of days, Lord Irshank,’ Master Glim told the weighty lord. ‘What we need to do is move slowly and carefully so we don’t do anything foolish.’