‘Damn you!’ the magician spluttered as he realised he had been fooled. The charging men passed through him from all directions and vanished once more.
‘Your name is Tabbet,’ Samuel told the magician with some satisfaction, ‘and I see we do, indeed, have a mutual friend in Master Ash.’
‘So,’ Tabbet said, still cloaked in darkness. A toothy smile appeared there. ‘I see you are curious to know what I know. Is it true? Do you really want such things?’ Tabbet then dropped all his protective spells and a flood of images came exploding out into Samuel’s still-probing mind spell. It took Samuel completely by surprise and he had no time to cut off his magic. The other man’s memories came spilling into him, overwhelming him.
In that instant, Samuel saw all that Tabbet had been up to that day. He had come up from Gilgarry, asking after ‘the magician’ and he had read each person’s mind in turn. He had met a pretty young lady who had been crossing the street with a smile on her pretty lips and had been greatly amused to learn who she was. Samuel even felt the grin that had crossed Tabbet’s face as he instructed the girl to go and kill herself.
‘No!’ Samuel uttered with despair as the scene played out before him. ‘Not her!’
‘You see,’ Tabbet informed Samuel, struggling to his feet. His hand came away from his face and Samuel could see hand and face both were burnt raw. ‘I had won before I even faced you. Your girl is dead. No magician should ever take a woman. It is heinous and unnatural. See what your actions have wrought? Your feelings have killed you both.’
A spell formed and Samuel was powerless to protect himself, still overcome by horror as he was. The ground underneath him exploded upwards, sending him flying limply into the air like a doll and his mind filled with reeling vertigo. He saw some speckled lights-stars-and it returned some sense of direction. ‘No!’ he thought to himself, trying to claw sense from confusion. ‘She’s not dead! It’s a trick! A spell! It’s not too late. It can’t be!’ If he did not act, he was done for, but the realisation was slow in coming. Maybe she wasn’t dead and if he could just finish Tabbet quickly he could reach her in time. It was his only hope and he clung to it for all he was worth. Yes! I can save her!
Samuel filled with magic as if his senses had been reborn. A click sounded in his ears, followed by a roar as power bloomed within him. He launched himself even higher into the air with a burst of lifting, up towards the star-filled sky. High above the roof of their little house and barn, Samuel hung momentarily. He could see Tabbet waiting below with a blazing spell ready in his hands, searching amongst the soil as it rained down all around him. High up in the pitch-black night, nestled in the dark, Samuel was invisible.
Tabbet turned as something moved behind him and desperately threw out his spell. The grass there flashed and was incinerated, but Samuel was not to be seen. The man screamed with fury as he realised he had been fooled yet again and he twirled about frantically, urgently readying another spell.
Samuel landed lightly on his feet a short distance away, blazing with magic. Tabbet spun to face him at the sound of his footfall, desperate to have an end to this affair.
‘I have no time to waste with you any longer,’ Samuel hissed. His words crept from his mouth like a column of spiders.
‘We shall see, boy,’ Tabbet returned and dropped into the low, Horse-rider’s Stance. He then twisted his toes in and circled his arms around into the crusader position. It was a very difficult and powerful stance, capable of drawing vast volumes of power in the right hands. Few men could hope to spend such power without threatening to destroy themselves. ‘You should have run when you had the chance.’
Tabbet sent forth a wall of magic and Samuel took a determined step towards it. The force of the spell fell upon him with the weight of a house, but Samuel was not found unprepared. The air was knocked from his lungs, but his defensive spells held firm. Again, Tabbet cast his spell and again the massive weight struck, booming like thunder and scattering the grass out into the darkness. Samuel, however, could only hear the galloping roar of his own unbridled power growing in his ears-it was as if he could hear the universe in motion, frantic drums of mayhem in his head. Another blow struck, but Samuel lifted his foot and took another stubborn step, leaving a deep impression behind. Tabbet had his fingers desperately twisted into complex formations, far more involved than the normal matrices that Samuel had learned so far. He could only guess where Tabbet had learned such things, for the dark magician’s aura flashed and folded with each movement, concentrating and redoubling with each spell he hurled.
‘Why won’t you die?’ Tabbet screamed with frustration. ‘What kind of a magician are you?’ He threw spell after spell and Samuel took step after step towards him with his jaw set defiantly. Each spell was more powerful than the last as Tabbet drew great gulping volumes of power, ignoring the toll it would surely have on his body. An oily shadow now surrounded his aura, clinging to him like sodden fabric.
As Samuel took a final step, barely an arm’s reach away from the man, Tabbet realised he was lost and turned to run. It was a fatal mistake, for the magician was now defenceless, stumbling away on rubber legs.
Samuel held his upturned palm towards Tabbet and made a crushing gesture. With a series of loud snaps, Tabbet folded in every direction he should not; a knotted clump of barely recognisable bone and flesh jutting from black rags.
The joy of magic vanished as Samuel released his hold on the ether. Tears poured from his eyes as if erupting free from his sockets, but he had no time to feel such things. The burning in his bones and the stinging in his muscles would have to wait. He ran over to Tabbet’s horse and swung himself up onto the saddle. Its mind had been paralysed to hold it still and Samuel quickly untied the spell. He kicked the animal in the ribs and spurred it on as fast as it could go, carrying him at breakneck speeds under the pale starlight. He denied what he had seen, refused to believe what could have happened. Thoughts raced through Samuel’s mind on how she could still be alive, but terrible images flashed before him as he drove Tabbet’s horse for the village with everything it was worth.
Samuel’s heart filled with choking dread when he saw a small crowd gathered outside the Sallow house. He tried to climb down from Tabbet’s horse, but his limbs had become leaden and he fell from the saddle onto his face. He could hear some commotion and some shouts from the house, but the noises were buzzes and drones in his ears.
Climbing awkwardly to his feet, he staggered on and pushed his way past men and women alike, struggling inside the house and into the reading room. The sight that met him struck like a blow, as if an unseen fist had punched through his chest and seized his heart in its steely grasp.
Manfred Sallow was sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, clutching the body of his daughter desperately in his arms and sobbing wildly. Despair boiled up into Samuel’s throat, choking him. He shook his head and tried to somehow dispel the scene before him, but it would not go. A knife lay at Leila’s feet, slick with blood, and she and her father were literally covered in the same scarlet fluid, almost as if they had been bathing in it. Her face seemed quiet and peaceful despite the scene, but there was no aura around her at all. She was long dead.
Samuel scrambled desperately down to Leila’s side. He knew he was shouting something, but he had no control of himself or his words. He tried to take her in his arms, slipping and skidding on the floor, but her father would not let her go and other arms grabbed Samuel firmly and pulled him away. He struggled futilely against them, but he had no strength left with which to resist.
‘No! Leila! No!’ he heard himself screaming.
Manfred Sallow’s horror-twisted face looked towards the onlookers with reddening anger. ‘Why did she do this?’ he sobbed, trembling and shaking with his daughter still in his arms. He hugged her body close against him and continued sobbing, letting out a long howl of despair.
Samuel was empty. He hung limply in the arms of whomever or whatever was holding him. There seemed to b
e a block of ice clotted in his chest and the blood had frozen in his veins. She was dead.
Manfred laid his daughter down and then, grunting and with the great effort of a fattened hog heaving itself from the mud, he clambered to his feet and came lumbering forward like a madman. Samuel made no effort to move as Manfred’s fists came crashing into his face-he barely noticed the fact at all. His head was knocked aside and about, and he felt something that was once pain, but his eyes stayed locked on Leila’s gentle face as the room turned sideways and he struck the floor. Warm, salty blood began to pour through his nose and mouth.
More hands lifted him and a heavy-set man turned Samuel around to face him. ‘You’d better leave, son,’ the man said, sounding like a voice in a dream.
Samuel nodded dumbly and took an unsteady step towards the door. He stopped for a moment, letting the doorframe take his weight so he could turn and take one last look at her. The stark image of Leila lying so peacefully, as if she were having some wonderful dream, and the great stains of blood and bloody handprints all over her pale white dress seemed to burn into Samuel’s mind. He felt that his heart was trying to climb up in his throat and he had to take a great gulping breath as the air just did not seem enough. There was nothing he could do. He felt drowned in helplessness and sorrow. Manfred Sallow was screaming and having fits, fighting the men that held him, clawing to be at Samuel, but the young magician barely noticed at all. As he staggered out of the house, his mind could not escape its continuous, torturous knell-she is dead, she is dead, she is dead…
The Downs were waiting in their house filled with worry when Samuel finally returned. Simpson had come down from the hill when he had heard the ruckus only to find a hole he could bury a couple of cows in at his steps and an inch of soil spread over the house and barn, not to mention the mutilated body lying nearby. He had found his wife shaking and sobbing under their bed and he still had no idea of what had happened.
With a stuttering tongue, Samuel managed to explain the event with Tabbet and what had happened to Leila. Mrs Down broke down in tears and even Simpson, stoic at the worst of times, had red-rimmed eyes as he tried to comfort her.
‘What will you do now, lad?’ Mrs Down asked.
‘I am a damned fool,’ he said, choking on his words. ‘I should have killed that bastard Ash three times over by now. Now, he has killed Leila. I’m going to go find him and I’m not coming back.’
‘Just think carefully, Samuel,’ old Simpson said. ‘You’ve lost a lot already and you may go getting yourself killed, too.’
Samuel pushed his notes into his satchel and gathered his things with unsteady hands. He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’m going.’ He stopped and looked at the old couple squarely. ‘I’m going to kill him at last.’
‘Take care, lad,’ Simpson said and Mrs Down crushed Samuel in a great sobbing hug.
‘You should play some music to the animals from time to time,’ Samuel instructed. ‘They like it. I’m taking Jess with me, but there’s another horse outside-the magician’s. It’s Imperial stock and sturdy enough.’
Lastly, he pushed his long-neglected magician’s robes into his bag and left the house. Simpson came out onto the steps as Samuel hurriedly readied Jess.
‘You know you’re welcome back any time,’ old Simpson noted. ‘We can never repay you enough. You gave our sad old lives some meaning at last. You’ve been like a son to us.’
Samuel pulled the last leather straps tight on Jess’ halter and, after quickly checking things over, threw himself up onto the saddle. ‘It’s I who can never repay the both of you. If not for your kindness, I never would have stayed here-I never would have met her. For the first time in my life, I was free of the death of my family-I finally had the chance to actually live; I escaped from my past. I loved every moment here with all my heart and I will miss you both more than I can express. Goodbye.’
Samuel kicked his heels and set Jess cantering away, only pulling to an abrupt halt at Tabbet’s ruined corpse. Vaulting down again, Samuel tied the body to a saddle ring with a length of old cord. He would dump the wretched thing in the woods where the animals could have it. As Jess trotted down the stony winding path, Samuel raised one hand in brief goodbye and left the Down farm behind him, with Tabbet’s body snaking behind across the stones.
At the end of the path, where the Down house was but a distant light on a hill, Samuel brought Jess to a snorting halt. The animal whinnied, her breath making frosty clouds and she stamped her hooves impatiently. Samuel looked to the farmhouse one last time and sighed. He then pulled Jess around and they began along the long, circling road that hugged its way down the hills to Gilgarry, dragging the dead magician behind.
It was just before first light when Samuel passed through Gilgarry and, shortly after that, he reached Count Rudderford’s estate. The temperature had plunged overnight and a sheet of frost lay over everything. Roosters were crowing and smoke hung low in the valley below. A servant was returning with a cart of firewood, ready to stoke the day’s oven.
Samuel had ridden through the night and felt wooden in his saddle. All he cared about was killing Ash-preferably, in some gruesome and most painful fashion. Leila was dead-he could not deny that fact-but the thought still felt strange and numb. For now, it was just an empty statement, void of substantial meaning. Leila is dead. He would never again hold her hand, stroke her skin or hear her laughter. The promise of sweet revenge was the only respite from such thoughts and he clung to them like a drowning man to a clutch of twigs.
Samuel had no idea as to Ash’s strengths or the number of men and magicians at his beckoning. In fact, he had no idea if the man was still in Gilgarry at all. If Ash had more men like Tabbet at his beckoning, then Samuel’s task would not be so easy. Then there were the soldiers to deal with. Samuel did not mind dying at all, but he could not bear the thought of Ash escaping once more. In order to even the odds, he would need some men of his own and Count Rudderford was the only one who could provide them.
He rode into Rudderford’s stable and left the sleepy, young stablehand to care for Jess and his satchel. He then crossed the frosted courtyard and opened the door to the Count’s manor. His soft-heeled boots tapped softly along the short hall that led to the banquet room.
The banquet table was being stripped by several servants, all carrying away the plates of half-picked bones and goblets of spilled wine from the night before. None questioned Samuel, nor made any attempt to stop him as he made across the hall and headed for the Count’s chamber. Having found it, he kicked the door open and crossed the rug-covered floor to beside Rudderford’s lavish bed. Rudderford was sprawled asleep, still snoring next to his wife who was now wide awake and watching Samuel with eyes aghast.
‘Get up,’ Samuel told her, ‘and get out.’ She nodded and crawled from beneath the covers, pulling on a robe and hurrying out, leaving the door open behind her. ‘Wake up,’ Samuel said, leaning over Rudderford and shaking his shoulders. Having his love murdered and no sleep along with it gave Samuel very short patience.
Rudderford groaned and finally opened his eyes. ‘You’re going to do exactly as I say,’ Samuel said, asserting his influence upon the man. ‘We’re old and fast friends and you will do everything you can to meet with my approval.’
‘Of…of course I will,’ Rudderford stammered. His mind was thick from the night’s wine and he was still half-asleep, so Samuel’s spell took its good time taking hold. ‘You don’t have to tell me twice, old friend.’
Samuel could feel that a few subtle braids of magic had already been placed in Rudderford’s mind, designed to make him more manageable. Samuel replaced the spells with his own, noting the handy work of Ash or one of his men, although he sensed the taint of Tabbet.
A number of men in various states of undress then stumbled in through the doorway, bearing swords. One man even held up a large wooden ladle defiantly.
‘What are you doing?’ Rudderford demanded of his men, sitting
up in his bed. ‘What brings you charging into my chambers at this early hour?’
‘But the lady said that…’ the foremost guard began to reply, but Rudderford cut him short.
‘Oh, tell her to shut up and all of you go back to your beds,’ the Count said and returned his attention to Samuel. ‘What can I do for you, my good friend? How wonderful for you to call on me. It’s Samuel, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Samuel said. ‘Let’s have some breakfast first. I’m starving.’
‘Of course. Please forgive me. I’m afraid I had too much to drink again last night. My head is ringing like the bells of Saint Veddum’s.’
The servants were obviously taken by surprise when the Count appeared so early for breakfast and they all hurried to prepare his meal. His wife poked her head nervously from around a corner before shaking it in confusion and disappearing again.
After Samuel had eaten what he could, he turned to business. ‘What has Mr Cervantes been doing all this time in Gilgarry?’ he asked.
‘He’s been digging all over the place, as usual, looking for old ruins, treasures and such.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘I do believe so,’ Rudderford stated thoughtfully.
‘Do you know his real name?’
‘Of course. He is Mr Cervantes, collector and merchant of fine and exquisite goods.’
‘That’s what he told you?’
‘Yes. He’s a fine man. But he goes through workers like you wouldn’t believe. They’re terrified of him.’
‘Does he have many men with him here? Any magicians?’
‘Oh, he has many men at his camp by the site. Most of them are local peasants, but he has his guards and a few men from Cintar, too, although I have never seen any magicians in Tindal in all my time here.’
Samuel thought a moment. ‘When does he plan to leave?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. He was adamant he was going to leave a few days ago, but he still seems to be having some problem.’
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