She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (93 page)

The smoking chimneys of Stable Waterford spotted the vale just below him, and tiny scratches of roads joined them together, peeking through the trees.  A wild orchard lay closest at the bottom of the hill, but it seemed as if someone had taken to rebuilding it.  There were already figures hard at work, hammering and sawing in a clearing amongst the apple trees, working on the beginnings of a new house.  It seemed much larger than the house Samuel had been born in, burnt down long ago on that very same spot.  He listened carefully, and he could hear children at play, running between the trees and laughing while the others worked. 

In the village, people were busy
preparing
for the day’s market and there were several new buildings here and there that he did not remember.  It seemed the little village was growing, perhaps from those hoping to escape the warring and worries of the lowlands.  It was obvious that such troubles had not yet come to such a remote place.  With Alahativa slain, perhaps the Paatin would recede and the village would remain untouched.  It would only be a brief respite, however, for with Lin reborn into the world, it seemed there would be nowhere that was safe from harm.

A sound that could have been distant thunder drummed from far away and
,
moments later
,
the birds and insects all hushed at once.  Some of the trees began to hiss and sway, although there was no wind, and Samuel could feel a vibration at his feet.  It lasted only the space of a few heartbeats and
,
as the trees settled to quiet once more, the natural noises began again and dogs in the village began barking.

He turned and surveyed the solemn peaks above him.  They had not changed in the slightest over the years, still frowning down at the village with frosty clouds crowning their heads.  It was reassuring to see something unchanged, when so much else had changed in the world.

Samuel, complicit in the destruction that was now unfolding around the world, who had sired a demon that would eventually devour humanity, took a moment to take in the sights all around him.  For some reason, it helped to burn away some of the horror and the sorrow that had built up inside him.  Not entirely, but still, it helped. 

Stepping down, he began
to walk along
the overgrown path that led down Miller’s Hill.  It had been many years since he had walked this way, yet he still knew each and every step by heart.  He could have leapt to Cintar in the blink of an eye, but somehow it felt appropriate that his own two feet should lead the way.  Here, his journey would begin. 

End of Part Two

The story concludes in
The Ancient Ones

The dark-skinned magician cradled the baby in his arms and made soothing noises towards it, but the child continued to wriggle and snuffle despite his efforts to calm it.  It was dressed in a blue infant’s smock and appeared not too dissimilar to any other child born in Amandia
,
although its eyes may have been angled a tad more than was usual.  There was quite a decent patch of shiny black hair on its head and its tiny fists remained balled up as it pumped its little arms up and down.  It blinked as it scanned the chamber, but its eyes did not settle on anything for even a moment.

‘Do you think he understands us, Father?’ the magician asked, marvelling at the tiny pale creature that contorted in his dark hands.

A rasping voice spoke from behind a thick
,
drawn curtain, but the voice was
dense
with magic.  ‘No, my son, he does not.  It will take him a long time to associate everything he senses with something meaningful.  He must literally grow into this body and learn the implication of every stimulus he receives, not unlike a normal child.  He must also learn the result of every motion and action that he attempts.  Every kick of his leg reinforces itself, every wriggle enables him to do a little bit more.  Moment by moment, he will discover his new body and learn its operation.  It is only his thoughts that are fully developed, for Lin’s mind is housed within, if not actually in body, then at least in spirit.’

‘It would be like being trapped in a cavern of impenetrable darkness, ever searching for the way out.’

‘Something like that, yes, but it is a prison of his own design.  He will find his way free soon enough.’

‘And he truly does not need any food or drink?’ the magician asked.

‘It has been a few days already, my son, and he has not suffered.  Do not fret.  He cannot be harmed.  Would you like to throw him down and see the result?  It would not bother him in the slightest.’

‘No, Father, I would not.’

‘You worry me sometimes, my boy.  Do you have such little faith in me?’

‘Not at all, but it only feels wrong to commit such violence unto a child.’

The unseen speaker laughed and the air seemed to tremble from the might contained in that voice.  ‘My poor boy.  If I did not know how heartless you truly are, I could almost believe you.  Remember, that is not a child in your hands, but a beast waiting to mature.’

‘Yes, Father,’ the magician said, nodding obediently.

‘Soon, we will leave.  Is everything ready?’

‘It is.’

‘Very good, but I would ask you something first.’  The pounding voice growled and boomed like the purr of some massive beast.  ‘Your behaviour of
late
has been troubling me.  I granted your request to return to your homeland and there you slew every man, woman and child you could find.  Such violence is wasteful and unwarranted—but that is not what concerns me.  You knew I would learn of this, but still you tried to keep the matter hidden.  Tell me...why?’  The last word rumbled through the room and shook the very foundations.

‘I do not know, Father,’ the magician replied without emotion.

The room was quiet while the hidden speaker considered the response.  ‘Then I hope whatever possessed you is now behind you.  We still have a long road ahead of us and I need you fully focussed upon the task.  All who could have opposed us have been vanquished, but we have much yet to do.’

‘Before we go, can I ask you something in return, Father?  There is something that has long bothered me.’

‘What is it?’ came the growling reply, tinged with a hint of curiosity.

‘It is about the father of Lin—the one called Samuel.  It seemed a strange coincidence to me that in this incarnation he contained such potential as a magician.  I felt he had the potential to best any of us, given the chance.  Such a thing has never happened before, has it?’

‘That is merely circumstance, my son.  Any human child could be born with such potential.  Several such are
in
every Age, and that is why I leave nothing to chance.  As you said, it is only a simple coincidence.’

‘But very few of those rise to meet that potential.  Samuel was on the verge of realising his limits.  He had nearly harnessed his entire share of Lin’s legacy.  A little longer and perhaps he could have managed it.’

‘Then it is fortunate he did not.’

‘That is why I took the chance to kill him.  When the old Lion and he were wrestling, I tried to ensure that both would die.  I was not to know the old man was about to do our work for us.  In the end, I may actually have saved Samuel unwittingly.’

‘Then you should have taken more care, foolish boy.  The art of manipulation is a slow and careful one.  If you must make such rash actions, decided on the moment, you
must not
fail to plan correctly.  Still, it matters not.  They are all dead, so do not dally upon it.  Use that experience and learn from it.’

‘But who knows how much further he could have gone, Father?  Lin himself was born just a man, so it seems logical that another man could be born to better him.’

‘Such talk will get us nowhere!’ the hidden speaker boomed and the magician almost dropped the child with fright.  ‘Allay such thoughts, my boy.  What you suggest is possible, but unlikely.  Also, we will never know.  The father of Lin is dead and all the magic of this world now belongs to this demon child.  Soon, it will be mine.  Come, you’ve seen it enough.  Put the devil back in its box.  We must quickly be away.’

‘Yes,
m
y Father,’ the magician responded and he placed the wriggling baby back inside its little black casket, holding down its flailing arms as he carefully clamped shut the lid.  With the task complete, he turned to gather his things.

****

Cadin Waterhouse had long since given up thinking he could escape this life and
,
quite frankly, he no longer cared.  He had spent these last years living from one day until the next.  He would crawl out of his bug-infested bed and be drunk by mid-morning.  He would gamble away any money he had and
,
if he had none to lose, he would find a lock to pick or a window to break, and he would rummage through someone’s drawers for anything of value. 

Sometimes he would
tie
a handkerchief across his face and wait for some poor unsuspecting soul to come wandering along the dark streets late at night.  Then, he would stick his knife into them as quietly as he could and make away with anything from their pockets.  Occasionally, he would stumble upon a foolish drunk, just arrived from the docks with his month’s pay, and he would live like a king for a week.  Other times, his
effort
was wasted and he would leave the scene with nothing but blood on his blade for his
trouble
. 

As long as he picked his targets carefully and never killed anyone who was well
connected, and as long as he kept out of sight of the town guards, he could almost do as he pleased.  This place was a well-known haven for lowlifes and cut
-
throats such as he.  It almost served them right for coming here in the first place if they went and got themselves killed by a man like him.  It was not much of a life, but still, he made a living and men like him were only good at certain things.

Nevertheless
, he worried that the Circle had been shadowing him these past few months.  They had left him well
enough alone for a long time, but mysteriously had started showing up again recently, crossing his path or watching him from across the street. 

He knew they wanted him to see them, otherwise he would never have known they were after him at all, and that worried him most of all.  They were a mixed bunch—some were mages, others thieves or mercenaries—but they all had one thing in common: they could kill him in an instant if they so desired and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.  He was long past his prime and in no shape to defend himself from anything with the ability to fight back, let alone escape from Circle types.  Instead, he ignored the Circle agents as best he could, and just accepted that one day, one of them would do what they had been sent to do, and his life would end.  Hopefully, it would be quick.

So it came that one day he awoke—although it must have been nearly noon—to the terrible realisation that someone was standing at the end of his bed.  He tried to leap up to
escape
out the window, but something invisible to his eye held him fast, and he knew he was as good as dead.  He looked at the black-cloaked figure that stood just beyond his trembling toes, and he shook with fear.  He could not see the face inside the hood, and he was almost thankful for the fact.

‘Wh-what do you want?’ he stammered, but the ominous figure said nothing.  ‘P-p-please!  Don’t kill me!’ he said, begging for his life, and tears ran down his cheeks as he blubbe
re
d in fear.

Still the cloaked man watched him in silence, as if looking into his very soul.  When the magician finally did make a sound, Cadin almost wet himself with fright.

The magician sniffed aloud several times.  ‘Your room smells of death.’

‘No, no.  You’re mistaken, good Lord!’

‘I know a murderer when I see one.  You killed my mother.  You killed my father.  You killed my sister and brothers,’ said the magician.