The Archmage chuckled slightly, looking quite amused. ‘How did you come to such a fantastic conclusion? Was it that infernal Grand Master Anthem?’
‘No, it wasn’t him. He wasn’t even here when I left.’
‘Then who was it?’ the Archmage insisted, now lacking all mirth. He looked at Samuel intently.
‘I can’t say,’ Samuel replied hesitantly. ‘I mean, I don’t really know.’
Archmage Ordi paused to smile pleasantly. He took his time and let Samuel stand uncomfortably in the centre of the room while he gazed about his room. Finally, he returned his attention to Samuel with a look of fatherly patience. ‘Let me divulge the sequence of events surrounding your absence, as far as I understand them. Please, correct me if I am wrong.
‘After a string of minor behavioural matters, you commit the considerable offence of defying Master Dividian. The Council then summons you in to see what could be the root of your discontent and immediately you flee without facing your punishment. Several years later, you drag yourself back to Cintar and are caught sneaking around the streets, obviously up to no good as you take flight from authority on sight. You stand before me with all these nonsensical stories and I cannot believe you are that much of a dullard as to believe such things. There must be something you are up to? You must be working with someone? Tell me, what are you doing here? Who is whispering in your ear?’
‘That’s not correct at all,’ Samuel protested.
‘Well, it seems to be the case from all I can see. Everything you are trying to tell me is full of holes. You tell me that Lord Jarrod ordered your death, for nothing more than some rather obnoxious insubordination. You won’t follow instructions from a dignified member of the Order, yet when some mysterious stranger then tells you to flee the city, you do so without hesitation. You beeline directly for the furthest corner of our Empire, and there you just happen to meet Master Ash and, just as he is set to return triumphantly to the capital, you begin interfering with his duties. Either you are intentionally set on sabotaging the good work of the Order or someone has tricked you into it. Which is it? Do you suffer from delusions, my good boy, or are you just eternally stupid?’
‘Ash is a murderer!’ Samuel retorted, but the Archmage raised a firm palm to silence him.
‘Maybe it’s time you grew up a little, my unfortunate lad. Life is not as simple or as convenient as you may imagine. Master Ash has proved himself invaluable time and time again when the Order has truly needed him. I know he can use rather primitive methods, but he always gets the results we need. Sometimes the Order needs to do difficult things and the right men must be found to do these things. The Empire and the Order are paramount in all things, Samuel. You, on the other hand, are inconsequential, yet you choose to believe otherwise and have been causing no end of trouble. Master Ash told me of your conflict, but when you told him that someone from the Circle had sent you, what was he to think? I had already told him to protect our interests there in Tindal with all his ability. Many, many lives depended on his successful return and you dared to endanger that.’
‘Wait!’ Samuel interrupted. ‘I didn’t tell him it was someone from the Circle. He sent his men to kill me!’
‘Let me finish,’ the Archmage stated calmly. ‘When will you realise that you have been fooled, Samuel? The Circle of Eyes is devious and manipulative. They are ever full of lies and deceptions and will stop at nothing to achieve their underhanded work. They convinced you of a conspiracy and made you think that Lord Jarrod is trying to kill you-that Master Ash killed your parents. Don’t you realise how ridiculous that sounds? They send you to the farthest reaches of the Empire, where you happen to meet Master Ash and, of course, you try to kill him to settle your unfortunate history-all as the Circle planned. They have used your ridiculous plans for revenge against you.’
‘It wasn’t like that at all!’ Samuel spat out, desperate to lend some clarity to the discussion.
‘Hold your tongue with me, boy!’ Archmage Ordi hissed. ‘You forget with whom you are speaking!’ The man then took a breath and waited a moment to settle, before continuing with a calm tone of voice once more. ‘Samuel, my boy, listen to me. I understand everything seems logical to you, but believe me for just a few moments. Please try to remember that I have a lifetime of experience with these things, while you have only just begun to learn about the ways of the world. The Circle have many ways of beguiling you-believe me. They can make lies seem like truth, fantasies seem like reality. They have used you as they use everyone and you played right into their hands, nearly at the cost of your own life. They are masters of shadow and deception. That is how they work and they have turned you into a tool of their own manipulation. They used you, Samuel, and that is the simple truth. You are not the first magician to fall victim to their insidious plots and I am certain you will not be the last. I’m sure there are probably others even now that believe the Order and Empire are full of all manner of underhanded schemes.’
‘But what about the Order and the war? Are you trying to tell me that these are actually good decisions?’
A soft groan came from the large bed that filled a good portion of the room. Samuel’s attention was momentarily distracted as he noticed two long lumps under the covers. One rolled over, revealing a swathe of long golden hair. Samuel looked away and tried his best to ignore the sight. There were much more important things to discuss.
‘Of course they are,’ the Archmage said dismissively, and sat himself on a small stool by the bed. He began stroking a short staff that had been leaning against the bed frame. Picking it up with one hand, he began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over its shaft. ‘I know you are an Outlander, Samuel, but by now I would have assumed you would have stopped thinking like one. The Emperor is not a butcher, nor is he a madman. Quite the contrary, he is a leader and a visionary. The lands of Amandia have forever been scourged with wars and conflict; eternally locked in turmoil that has resulted in nothing but death and suffering. Finally, we are within reach of a lasting and decisive peace for all people. The Emperor has a grand and wonderful plan that will unify us all and lasting peace will finally be achieved.’
‘By creating a generation of magicians trained to kill and do battle? It’s against everything the Order stands for.’
‘Quite the opposite,’ the Archmage corrected. ‘It’s exactly what the Order is supposed to do. The Order has always been, and always will be, part of the Turian Empire and, as such, its purpose is to serve the Emperor. I know Grand Master Anthem has been filling everyone’s heads with nonsense to the contrary, but peace and prosperity will never be achieved through his misguided methods. In his greying years, I’m afraid the man has become quite dim-witted. I was so sure that he had come to view the Empire as I do, but he proved to be a true Garten at heart. I’m sure that at this very moment, he is teaching King Otgart’s men every secret we have.’
‘The Grand Master is against violence,’ Samuel stated defiantly. ‘He would never help them to invade Turia.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt you are right, my boy, for he has become quite the pacifist in his old age. He will be teaching them with all haste how to defend themselves when our great forces rain down upon their wretched cities.’
‘But that’s terrible!’ Samuel exclaimed. ‘So many people will be killed. It’s unthinkable!’
‘Samuel,’ Archmage Ordi said calmly, rising from his stool and walking over to face the young man with the aid of his long, polished staff. He looked even more frail as he leaned upon the thing, hunched over and haggard. ‘Don’t you see? We are all only servants of the Empire. This is the final wonderful stage of the Emperor’s plan to unite all Amandia as one glorious nation. The truce after the last war was only a pause-so the Emperor could refresh his troops and reinforce their numbers. Generations of warfare have left their ranks thin. Grand Master Anthem was supposed to train the Order to aid in this final phase, but we learned he was only slowing us down all the while. Instead of giving us the
powerful magicians he promised, he deceived the Council with excuses and empty promises, while your heads were filled with nonsense. Meanwhile, the Gartens have been laughing in our faces. It seems they were not fooled by the Emperor’s supposed truce and have been building up vast armies of their own. Now, however, this is all moot and no amount of men on either side will decide this war. We now have in our possession the tool to wipe the Garten forces aside like bugs.’ As he spoke, he looked straight through Samuel, as if preoccupied with visions of glory.
Samuel’s mouth fell open. ‘The Argum Stone.’
The Archmage seemed pleased and refocussed his gaze on the youth before him. ‘So you do have some sense, after all.’
‘Then it’s true. It does have some great power and you’ve found a way to awaken it. You’re going to use it against the Gartens.’
‘Yes, Samuel!’ the Archmage told him passionately, ‘but we have not quite mastered its workings as yet. When we do, we will finally have a tool that will make all warfare obsolete. No one will stand against it. Walls and cities will fall asunder. Armies will be flattened and swept aside. We will conquer the Gartens easily and no one will dare revolt or plot against the Empire again. Peace will reign.’
‘But that’s terrible,’ Samuel declared, aghast. ‘How can you agree with something like this? The Emperor is just a tyrant!’
Ordi’s patience again looked strained, but he managed to remain composed. ‘Tell me, Samuel, what can you tell me about this device? What do you know about it?’
‘Almost nothing that I’m sure you do not already know. Even if I did, I would not share such things with you.’
The Archmage sighed and took another moment to survey the room. He stood straight-he would have been quite tall and athletic in his youth-and took his weight from his staff. ‘Very well. Then you are of no use to me,’ he said, showing a thin smile, more forced than genuine. ‘I was hoping you would come to your senses, but I see Anthem’s nonsense and the Circle’s deceptions have left you addle-headed. As you are, you are far too dangerous to be left to your own devices-far too dangerous. I have one last question for you, Samuel, and then our meeting will be at an end. Tell me, why do you think that Lord Jarrod wanted you killed? What did the mysterious representative of the Circle tell you to bring you under his spell?’
‘They said there was a belief that I would do something…something no other magician was capable of doing.’
‘Yes,’ Archmage Ordi said with interest, almost leaning in towards Samuel to have the answer. ‘Tell me what that was?’
‘That I would kill the Emperor.’
The Archmage’s smile return. ‘That’s all I wanted to hear.’
With that, the Archmage raised his staff and it blazed with silver-hewn magic. Instinctively, Samuel began to form a spell shield, but the power of the staff shredded his weaves to nothing and slammed into him like the weight of a toppling wall of bricks. Samuel’s breath was pulled from his lungs and his mind was overwhelmed by foreign magic, leaving him devoid of logical thought. All became black and silent and numb and deep.
Samuel awoke. He was lying on a single blanket that was spread out upon the floor. He turned his head and knew immediately that he was a prisoner, for there were bars in the small window above him. A tiny room surrounded him, with a thick, handleless door set into the wall. He climbed to his feet and examined it, but there were no edges to grip and there was certainly no obvious way to open it. He readied to cast a spell and was horrified to feel that he was blocked from reaching the source. This could only mean one thing. He was inside the Mage Cell-a tiny prison used to confine magicians. It had been built and laced with countless, powerful spells by the first Magicians’ Council. While within its walls, a magician could not summon at all. Samuel went cold with dread. Try as he might, his attempts to reach the source were futile.
He turned and looked out the window. The palace grounds were far below, and beyond lay the throbbing city. The open spaces of the School of Magic could just be seen to the north-east, standing out amongst the tall walls and narrow streets around it. There, his friends would be missing him by now. At least, he hoped so. He damned himself for venturing out alone into the city and only hoped someone would find a way to save him before he met some awful end.
His head still ached terribly. He had been foolish not to recognise the Staff of Elders, and its magic had overcome him instantly. The power within it had been awesome. It would take more magic than any one magician possessed to even begin to match it; perhaps even many magicians. It seemed that the Argum Stone was still holding onto its secrets, but once awoken, it meant there would be two formidable vessels of power in the land. At present, it seemed that the Archmage was the one pulling the strings, but such things could change quickly and there would surely be parties envious of such power waiting in the wings. Whoever possessed both ancient relics would be a force beyond reckoning.
A simple meal, pushed through the space beneath the door, was brought to Samuel as dusk settled. He ate some of the thick and tasteless porridge and then threw the tray into the corner with disdain. The night was long and cold and he awoke from nightmares throughout, shivering and pulling his blanket around himself tighter. He still wore his robes, with the hood pulled up around his head, but the chill air seemed to penetrate everything and his clothes were still damp from his adventures in the rain. He tried to spell himself warm, but the ether was utterly unreachable. Samuel rolled over to face the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest and hoped that the dawn would come soon.
It was still dark when a bolt was drawn with a resounding clank and the cell door creaked inwards.
‘Samuel?’ came a questing voice.
‘Who is it?’ Samuel asked, sitting up as the hooded figure waited in the doorway.
‘It is I. Come, we must quickly be away.’
Samuel stood, untangling himself from his thin blanket and peered closely at his rescuer. ‘Tulan!’ he exclaimed as the figure became discernible in the dark.
Tulan put his finger to his lips, signalling for quiet and Samuel immediately nodded in understanding. The moustached magician stepped aside and Samuel followed him into the short dim corridor. The sweet tang of magic came immediately rushing back as Samuel passed over the threshold. He spelled away the cold and discomfort that had seeped into his bones over the night and at once felt like a man born anew.
Several guards lay immobile on the floor. They were awake, but held tight in a cocoon of spells, unable to move, see or hear.
‘I must admit, I was surprised to hear you had returned to Cintar,’ Tulan said in hushed tones as they stepped through a second door and began down the many stairs of the Mage Tower. ‘But I was more surprised to learn you ventured out so foolishly. You’re only lucky that the Archmage decided to lock you up. He must have further plans for you, given that he could have just killed you on the spot.’
‘I owe you my thanks,’ Samuel returned. ‘When we’re good and safe I will tell you everything. Now, how will we get out of here?’
‘I can’t risk being seen with you and I only have a scant few moments to spare. You will have to make through the kitchens and find your way out the palace gates. I have a friend waiting there, a short fellow with a green cap. You can’t miss him. He will lead you somewhere safe, but it’s better you don’t speak with him. Once safe, don’t show your face outdoors for any reason. I will send word of your whereabouts to your friend, Master Goodfellow. Keep hidden. If you pass any magicians in the street, don’t panic and run away like a madman this time. You have some time up your sleeve before your escape will be discovered, but you should certainly not dally.’
Samuel made an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll try to remember that. No one has escaped from the Mage Cell in a long time, as far as I have heard,’ Samuel said, ‘so I expect it will cause quite a stir.’
‘No one has been put in the Mage Cell for a long time,’ Tulan corrected. ‘And, yes, the Archmage will stop at nothing once he f
inds that you have escaped.’ Tulan stopped as they reached the base of the tower. ‘Now, you go on ahead. This is where I must leave you. There is one more thing. If you are discovered, no matter what happens, don’t mention my involvement. I have a lot to risk over this-more than you could know.’
‘I understand,’ Samuel said.
‘It’s very important. Tell them you overcame the cell guard yourself-tell them anything, but don’t tell them about me. It is only because we are good friends that I dared to help you at all.’
Samuel nodded again. ‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Very well,’ Tulan said, looking over his shoulder nervously. He went to walk away, but stopped once more. ‘You should leave the city at once. Go back to wherever you have been, for your own sake, Samuel. It is far too dangerous for you here.’ Then he afforded himself the luxury of a smile. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ With that, he quickly strode down the side passage and away.
Escaping the palace was surprisingly simple. Once he neared the kitchens, Samuel began meeting more and more palace staff, but no one paid him more attention than a ‘My Lord’ or a quick curtsey as they hurried on with their duties. Even when he passed through the kitchens themselves, where teams of burly cooks with stained aprons were sweating over pots and chopping boards, he was afforded barely more than a glance.
Once out through the kitchen entrance and into the gardens, Samuel thought he should make his pace seem less hurried, and tried to adopt some kind of elongated stroll. It seemed to achieve at least some of the desired effect, for he managed to pass a squad of marching guards without incident. He stepped directly out through the palace gates and stood momentarily on the street, looking about for Tulan’s friend. He did spy quite a short man standing some distance away, wearing a tight green cap and leaning idly against a wall. He looked vaguely familiar. Still, seemed to be the only one fitting Tulan’s description, so Samuel decided he must be the one. Stopping just short of the man, Samuel cleared his throat. The fellow glanced up and, remembering Tulan’s advice not to speak with him, and not knowing what else to do, Samuel gave his friendliest smile.
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