The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (6 page)

‘Is that not a dangerous place?’ Leopold enquired.

All his life the fishermen had told of the damned city of Cintar. It was the source of the Order—once-good citizens and soldiers turned into mindless, raving fiends. Winged and horned beasts accompanied them, summoned from some hell—or so it was said—and they tore people apart on sight, no interest in captives or plundering spoils. The Order left gold and coin in the mud where it fell, carrying what they could eat back to Cintar, and leaving the bodies of the fallen for their beasts.

At the heart of the city sat the malevolent woman known as the Witch Queen. Little was known of her, for none who saw her survived. She had appeared in those early days, taking advantage of the chaos of the Darkening, seizing the city and bending its people to her will.

‘It is,’ Samuel responded, ‘but we will not go there directly. I have friends in hiding nearby. We will meet them and prepare.’

‘You have friends?’ Leopold asked in disbelief.

The magician looked to the sail with irritation, for the wind had chosen that moment to lose its vigour. The cloth flapped loudly as the boom lurched to and fro—as far as the slack in the lines would allow. The boat rocked and Leopold could not stabilise them until the wind stopped its churning.

‘Strangely, I do,’ confirmed Samuel.

The breeze kicked up from the west. The sail cracked and the little boat jerked, setting ahead once more with vigour.

****

They travelled in silence, with Leopold continuing them on their course. He had spent much of his life on the sea and could easily manage their vessel, although, it was not an elegant craft: larger and clumsier than the agile fishing boats he was accustomed to, and much too small to be making the sea crossing they were attempting. He grew nervous as they passed the tiny, familiar isles, one by one. They went beyond the last lonesome rock that stuck out from the sea, covered with mournful, huddled shags, their wings outstretched to dry.

The water here was alien to him. It felt cold, deep and dangerous. He imagined gigantic sinewy leviathans intertwining in its depths and wished he could turn back. Whenever he looked towards home, he found the magician, his black cloak fluttering in the wind, sternly blocking his view.

Toby played about the boat while Salu ignored everything around them, muttering impatiently with their voyage. The old man did not respond when Leopold called to him. It was a strange assemblage, worsened by the knot of sadness in his chest.

His father had been killed by this accursed magician and he had been sent to accompany him against his will. His mother had told him not to return until the magician’s quest was fulfilled, which caused him more angst. It was only his mother’s adamant instruction that kept Leopold from leaping overboard in those initial hours. He had considered swimming back home, but every time the thought occurred to him, he felt the magician’s gaze boring through the back of his head. Daring to turn and see, the man was glaring at him. Under that gaze, Leopold remained firm in his seat.

His spirits raised as he mused upon the idea of killing the magician and returning home with the boat. That was easier than swimming away, for he had been relishing the idea of murdering Samuel since first grabbing his mother’s knife. He would not mind taking the old man and the boy with him. They seemed harmless and they would surely rather avoid the accursed mainland.

Yes, that was it. He would lie to his mother and tell her everything had gone well and the mission—whatever it entailed—had been accomplished. Leopold smiled, deciding to have his revenge at the first opportunity—as soon as he figured out how.

At that very moment the magician spoke, interrupting Leopold from his dark thoughts and wiping the grin from his lips.

‘The water is calm, boy, but your stormy mood could sink this little boat. I hope the outlook changes before we are sent to the bottom of the sea. We have much to do before this is over, so you are set for a miserable time if you keep this up.’

Leopold would not answer the man. He spiralled deeper into morbid thought. His smile did not return, and he continued his plotting.

They skipped across the waves. Leopold fell further into his dark mood, wishing that a storm should sink them, so the magician would get what he deserved. However, the sky remained calm. The wind stayed brisk at their back and the sea smooth until well into the afternoon, when the long dark line of the Amandian coast came within sight. Leopold cursed his bad luck and thought of other ways to have his revenge, scanning the waters for any jagged rocks he could run them upon.

‘South,’ the voice of the magician called and with a sigh Leopold adjusted the ropes to follow the shoreline.

He brought them perpendicular to land, but their simple rigging was only efficient when going with the wind and they lost speed immediately. Within moments—rather too quickly for Leopold’s liking—the breeze shifted around to blow at their backs once more. The ocean jiggled and bobbed in response to the change, and Leopold steered their vessel across the unsettled wave tops.

In sight of land, the magician relaxed and moved about the boat, checking the sky above or the horizon around them, and inspecting his black casket.

Leopold gestured towards the coffin lid. ‘What does it say?’

‘Meaningless words in Old Turian script. Powerless things,’ the magician explained with disdain. ‘Before the last emperor unified the nations in decades of bloody war, they had nine gods between them. The Emperor almost stamped them out, but some folk remember their names and many still call to them in times of need. Old faith can be remarkably hard to extinguish.’

‘So why did you put them there?’

The magician smirked. ‘Rumour goes that I have these words on my box, so I inscribed them there so as not to disappoint. I have a reputation to live up to.’

‘I’m sure it has some power or purpose,’ Leopold stated confidently. ‘Even on our island we heard of your coffin. There is no greater insult than wishing for the Box of Samuel to wash up on another man’s shore. It is a vile thing, capable of stealing souls and releasing demons. To lay eyes on it is to be cursed.’

‘Again, purely rumour. The one time I saw my son’s captors, they had him in a box like this, although much smaller to accommodate a babe. I could not save him, but I memorised the spells around his prison. It took many years, but I crafted this casket in its likeness, only larger to accommodate a grown man.’

‘Why did it take so long?’

‘Great things take time, as you will learn, young Leopold. Patience is something you have yet to discover.’

The magician settled into silence. When he did next break the quiet, it almost scared Leopold from his skin.

‘I know it is no consolation, but your father was very proud of you.’ He faced Leopold on one of the benches that ran across the breadth of the vessel.

Leopold looked contemptuously at the magician in return. The affront deserved no response.

‘You meant more to him than anything,’ the magician continued. ‘He gave his life to give you a chance. It was a great and selfless thing.’

Leopold glared at the soulless man, then turned his head towards the open horizon of the west.

‘He was a great man and he chose wisely. Anyone else would have fought me until the end. He expected me, expected this, and he gave himself—purely for the sake of you and your mother.’

Leopold could hold his silence no more, incensed. ‘What would you know of him?’ he spat, furious that the one who had killed his father mere hours before should attempt to justify the act.

The magician did not flinch or change his expression. ‘I knew him well. He renounced his master of millennia and gave up immortality for you. He was a great warlord and proud man, resigned to squatting on that pathetic rock in the hope that it would keep you safe. It worked for a time, but he knew that refuge would not hide you forever. If any father loved his son, it was he.’

‘And you murdered him.’ The words scraped Leopold’s throat; his muscles tightened with rage.

‘Understand, boy, that your concept of death is skewed. Your father’s life exists in me. He was a great magician, and he passed his strength on to me. While I live, he lives inside of me. He has not gone.’

Leopold was indignant. ‘Then when can I see him? When can I hug him? When will I next hear his laughter? Your words are useless, Magician. Please! Do not try to comfort me.’

The magician glanced aside for a moment—a small victory for Leopold. ‘I get your point, boy,’ he said. ‘It is true; nothing will be the same ... change is inevitable. Everyone has lost someone close and harder times yet lie ahead. I promised your mother and father I would protect you and I will. I assure you, I am not as monstrous as I seem, or as the rumours say.’ The magician caught a scent on the wind, for at that moment he looked to the coast. ‘Set us further to sea. We must go around a headland soon. There are shoals to our left.’

Leopold did as told and moved the tiller, freeing the long pole that extended to the back of the boat, locking it back into place once the rudder had been adjusted. He swiftly tightened the sail to match. His hands moved expertly and neatly, quicker than most of the experienced sailors he had witnessed, and he rarely made mistakes.

‘How did you cope before me, Magician?’ he asked soberly. ‘This boat must have sailed itself.’

Samuel’s eyes flickered towards him. ‘We managed,’ he said. ‘And, boy, call me Lord Samuel. I am the last Magician Lord in the land and the title demands respect.’

‘Then you should stop calling me boy,’ Leopold responded bluntly. ‘My name is Leopold.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ was the magician’s reply. ‘Very well. If we are to remain civil to each other, let us make a binding agreement to keep us in good stead. From this point, I shall call you Leopold—nothing else—and you in turn will call me Lord Samuel. Your father asked me to protect you, and for you to do as I say. We shall both respect his wishes until such time as our bond is ended.’

‘Done!’ Leopold said promptly. He was tired of being harassed and was glad to seal the matter.

‘Think well on it, Leopold. A promise to me is not broken easily and should not be made impulsively. Are you sure—’

‘I’m sure, I’m sure,’ Leopold replied impatiently.

The magician smiled at him—a cunning, knowing smile that had Leopold already questioning his decision.

‘Then so be it,’ Lord Samuel agreed. ‘The bond is sealed.’

‘I have heard your name many times,’ Leopold admitted after a while, and the magician, who had passed into deep thought, raised his chin. ‘Lord Samuel, Spawn of Cintar; Lord Samuel, Champion of the Infernal Order; Lord Samuel, last of the Damned Magician Lords. The people near my home would scare their children with stories of you. You claim to be saving the world, yet your reputation tells a very different story. Do you not realise that the word magician is shameful and terrifying?’

Lord Samuel was unfazed. ‘People will always talk and bend the truth to their liking. That witch in Cintar has orchestrated much of that—touting me as her servant. Magicians were in fact welcomed by many and I did have titles once, similar to those you mentioned, when the world was different—before Starfall cracked the world’s mantle, before ash rained and choked the lands. In truth however, I was never fond of being called a Lord; but in your case I will make an exception. It may serve to teach you respect.

‘Even Cintar now inspires fear, when it was once a bastion of civilisation, nothing like the scourge of evil it has become. The Turian Emperor brought about great changes—highways and bridges and structured governance. His organised administration advanced civilisation in numerous ways. He was a tyrant but, as I hope you will come to understand, even such tyrants have the capacity for good inside.

‘The Order of Magicians was a symbol of logic and benevolence—for the most part—comprised of magicians who sought reason and well-being for all. Rei the Witch Queen of Cintar has renamed her armies after the Order to spite all our good work. We sought peace and happiness for all of Amandia and the word magician did not give children nightmares as you suggest it does now. I may be last of the Lords of the true Order, but I am not the beast I am made out to be. Fear of the Truthseekers has turned any whisper of magic or magicians into a dangerous thing.’

‘I do not believe you. Many of the old folk remember long before the Darkening, and they say magicians were always scorned.’

‘By some, yes, we were not overly welcomed; nevertheless, unless you are blind and stupid or both, Leopold, I am sure you know your father was a magician, too.’

‘He was nothing like you,’ Leopold stated assuredly, unwilling to be goaded into losing his temper.

‘That does not change the truth. Before the Truthseekers, magicians were common across Turia and much of Amandia. Many survived the Darkening and took refuge wherever they could. They prevailed against the Black Order, but the coming of the Truthseekers marked the beginning of their end.’

‘You speak as if the Truthseekers and the Order are two separate things.’

‘They are. The Truthseekers do not serve Rei. They are mere people—people who decided to rid the world of magicians. They are what remains of the Circle of Eyes, a group of thieves and assassins that once ruled the world from the shadows. After the Darkening, they realised they had been misled and now work to cleanse the world of magic, if that is at all possible.’

‘Then why do people fear them?’

‘Because they are ruthless and will stop at nothing. People once hid and defended the magicians, but the Truthseekers burned them out. There may still be a few magicians hiding in Amandia or other parts of the world, and new magicians are born every day, but people have learned to fear magic. I have heard of mothers throwing their children into the snow at the first sign of talent.’

‘That is terrible,’ Leopold declared.

‘It is,’ Samuel agreed, ‘but it is a reality. If they do not, the Truthseekers will come to perform their sworn duty.’

‘You side with the Truthseekers?’ Leopold asked with repulsion.