The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (55 page)

‘Do you know of Mr Cervantes and his work?’ Samuel asked of the stable boy.

‘Aye, Sir,’ he nodded. ‘He’s got men out by his campsite near the vale. My pa’s doing some work for him, digging holes and the like.’

‘Which way would it be then?’

‘That way, sire,’ the boy pointed. ‘Down the way to Willow Vale. You canno’ miss it. It’s near the ruins of the old keep. The field is full of great big ’oles and there’s tents and shovels and whatnots.’

‘Thank you,’ Samuel said and began down the dusty track, following the directions the boy had given him, curious to see what Ash was up to.

After a short ride, the campsite became visible in a field to the side of the road, overlooked by some decaying ruins on the hillside. Samuel rode down the crumbling and broken path toward the site and dismounted. Men were rousing themselves slowly from tents and warming their frozen hands over the stirred embers of last night’s fires. Others were arriving by horse and foot and it was evident that work would be beginning again soon. The field was, indeed, pockmarked with diggings of various dimensions. Wisps of frost inhabited them and clung to the hollows. All but one such hole seemed to have been abandoned, for it still had buckets and shovels and ropes and all manner of tools lying around its circumference.

Samuel wandered over to the raised edge of what was some form of digging, and discovered it to be a well-constructed shaft of about twenty strides across. The sides had been reinforced with boards to keep them from falling in. Peering down, Samuel could see a large object protruding from the earth at the bottom. It was still half-buried, seemingly partly encased in stone. From what he could see, the thing was circular, like a great coin of some kind, and had some lines marking its face, but they were too difficult to see clearly from this angle and the thing was covered with scraps of mud. Samuel enhanced his
sight
, but the artefact seemed to have no magical properties at all.

Samuel looked towards the camp and noticed a few men gesturing and looking towards him, so he started casually back towards Jess. He remounted the eager animal and set her away at a trot before he could be questioned.

So, it seemed that Ash was intent on retrieving this buried object. Whatever it was, it was obviously of considerable value for Ash and the Circle to have been searching for it for so intently and for so long. There was something about it that sparked a faint memory, and Samuel’s magician’s instincts took control of him. He was sure there was something about the object in his notes and the thought of discovering some ancient relic had him so excited as to temporarily set aside his revenge of Ash. The thing was still trapped firmly in stone and would not be going anywhere for a while at least. Samuel guessed he would have time to do some research before returning to finally kill the man who had slain his family. The thought had him spurring Jess on with excitement.

Samuel was home by midday. He could hear Mrs Down pottering around inside as he removed Jess’ saddle and laid it across one of the round wooden beams beside the house. Jess whinnied and Samuel stroked the soft sheen on her neck and whispered to her reassuringly as she slurped from the water trough eagerly. The sun had warmed enough to dispel the morning chill and the crickets were chirping in unison all around. High on the hill, animals were milling around in small groups, as they liked to do. A faint, cracking noise echoed up from one of the far and misty valleys, where someone was felling great giants of trees to make way for more pasture.

The door creaked as Samuel stepped inside and Mrs Down looked up from her new spinning wheel. Her hands busily stretched out the wool on her lap as it was pulled into a long strand and wound around the large bobbin. Her foot was in an ever-pumping motion, sending the smooth wheel around and around for hours on end.

‘Samuel!’ she exclaimed. ‘How was it with the Count?’

‘Fine,’ Samuel returned with a smile. ‘I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I see to something.’ He went immediately to his old satchel that hung in the corner. He drew out his wallet of notes and scrawlings and began to quickly search through the pages. There was something familiar about that artefact, and Samuel was sure he had seen it before, perhaps in some tome within the Great Library. He hoped he had possessed the sense to make a note of it at the time. ‘Is Simpson up on the hill?’

‘Of course he is,’ she answered, pulling off the swollen bobbin and replacing it with another.

It was there, the object, scribbled on the tattered corner of a page—a rounded tablet bearing a six-pointed star, fatter in the middle and thinner at the edge. Samuel could not be sure, but it looked to be the same thing that Ash had found. He quickly read his notations that circled the drawing. He had found a few passages on it long before in the book of Garrum. The
Argum Stone
, it was called in the Old Tongue. From the little that Samuel had recorded, it seemed to be some relic from the Age of the Ancients. He had jotted a note confirming that the relic was a
seal-stone
—only a locking piece for another item that it could provide or reveal. Without having a way to unlock the Argum Stone, the true power within it was dormant and useless.

‘What makes you look so grim, Samuel?’ Mrs Down asked.

‘I have to return to Gilgarry tomorrow,’ he replied.

‘You enjoyed it that much, then?’

‘On the contrary. It’s a dreadful place, but there is something I must attend to.’

‘Very well, then. Why don’t you go see your young lady friend? That should cheer you up.’

‘I hope so,’ Samuel agreed.

He left shortly. Normally, he would have been grinning from ear to ear at the thought of seeing Leila, but today, a feeling of dread was hanging over him like an ill omen.

Fortunately, Leila’s father was not at home and so, with a giggle from Leila, they went outside for a walk together, darting between the homes and following the narrow, muddy paths between each wall.

‘How was your visit with the Count, Samuel?’ she asked as they strolled down toward the river.

‘He and his court are just a bunch of old drunkards,’ Samuel declared.

‘Of course,’ she affirmed, shaking her head at his ignorance. ‘All the nobles are. What else do they have to do, but count their money and drink themselves silly? Why do you think I don't want to marry any of them?’

Samuel smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

They went down to the river and lay on the grass under the warm sun. They began kissing, and, one thing leading to another, it was not long until they were naked in each other’s arms with the sun on their bare flesh.

It was barely an hour later, as they were still entwined in each other and Samuel was half asleep, when the sound of hoof-beats approaching from up near the road roused them both. The two of them began pulling their clothes on in a frenzy, with Leila giggling almost hysterically as Samuel became tangled in his own trousers, nearly sending himself rolling into the river. Two men began leading their animals down towards them and Samuel and Leila tried to look innocent, each sharing a smirk.

They stood and greeted the strangers.

‘Good day to you, gentlemen,’ Samuel greeted. ‘What brings you to this beautiful spot?’

‘Actually, we came looking for you,’ one man said, ‘if you be Samuel. The village folk said you might be found this way.’

He was a middle-aged and burly man, with a crooked nose and long white scar running from his eye down to his neck. His companion was younger and much scrawnier by comparison, with an Adam’s apple poking out from the front of his neck like a child’s fist.

‘Yes, I am,’ Samuel said, holding Leila’s hand. It irked him somewhat that their whereabouts seemed to be widely known.

‘I understand you may be able to help me with an awful ache in my joints. It’s been said that you have quite a way with such things.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Samuel said, hoping to see the pair off as quickly as possible.

He let go of Leila, who sat back down to watch the river crawl by while Samuel did his work. The scarred man stepped closer for Samuel’s inspection, while his scrawny companion took hold of their horses.

‘If you could take a look at my knee,’ he said, wincing and bending to roll up his trouser leg. ‘The rotten thing’s been awful sore for some time.’

Samuel nodded and bent over to look closer. Strangely, the joint seemed perfectly fine. His aura was clear and untarnished, and Samuel was just thinking ‘that’s strange’ to himself when a movement caught his eye. A dagger came up towards his belly and Samuel flung himself away, just barely escaping. A scream sounded from Leila and Samuel twirled around, off balance, to see if she was harmed. She had her palms by her half-open mouth. Her face was pale with fright, for she had turned just in time to see the attack.

‘Damnation!
’ the man swore, holding the long knife in one hand. His scarred face was screwed up with anger and he flicked his trouser leg back down around his ankle before coming after Samuel. He took another swing with the gleaming blade and Samuel contorted away once more, ducking and twisting to keep out of reach. The man was a skilled killer, judging by his actions, but Samuel was quick as a rabbit if need be. Years of moving in the strange ways of the summoning stances had forged in him excellent balance and coordination.

The other scrawny man still held the horses and grinned with missing teeth. ‘Aha, Bardick!’ he called out. ‘He’s spryer than you, for sure! Catch him, quick!’’

Samuel had barely a spare instant to think as the scar-faced man continued with a flurry of jabbing and waving attacks, grunting with each effort.

‘Samuel!’ Leila yelled, clutching her hands to her chest.

‘Stay back!’ Samuel spat out. Thankfully, it seemed they were only interested in killing him and were not interested in her. Rolling aside, Samuel had enough time to gather himself. In the space of a heartbeat, instinct took over and he shot out a spell that held the man fast—as rigid as a statue.

The scrawny man gawked in disbelief as Samuel calmly dusted himself off before taking the dagger from the man called Bardick’s rigid hand.

‘What’re ya doin’, ya fool?’ the scrawny man yelled out, before Samuel spelled him as rigid as his companion.

It took only a moment to enter both their minds and begin sifting through their memories as easily as flipping through the pages of a book. Shortly, Samuel withdrew from both of them to find Leila sobbing at his side and calling his name.

‘Don’t worry,’ he told her calmly. ‘They can’t hurt us now.’

Leila gave a shriek as the scrawny man began moving, turned, and walked away, leading his horses back up the slope and towards the roadway.

‘Samuel,’ Leila cried at his side, clutching Samuel's arm. ‘Where is he going?’

‘Back to Gilgarry. These men are assassins, sent to kill me. I have put a spell on that man and now he will try to kill his master instead—a magician called Ash. I doubt he’ll succeed, but it will be a fitting end for whichever of them fails.’

‘What about this man?’ she asked, looking at the one called Bardick with alarm.

Samuel took Leila squarely by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. Go home,’ her told her darkly and pulled her hands away as she tried to cling to him. ‘Please. Your father will be home soon. I will send word later. I need to be alone with this man for a time. I’m going to give him something he deserves and I would rather you did not see.’

She stepped back and nodded, sensing the venom in his dark mood, and gathered up her shoes. She hurried from the riverbank and up towards the road without turning back.

‘You have no choice, but to answer me,’ Samuel said to Bardick, pointing a finger to the man’s nose. ‘I want you to listen carefully to every word I say. Do you understand?’

Bardick nodded as well as he could—as much as Samuel’s spell would allow him. When inside another being’s mind, time can pass strangely, and a host of memories can be observed in only a moment. This man had committed foul deeds aplenty in his life, as Samuel had learned. Such vile acts filled his past that Samuel wondered how the man could live with himself, but Bardick had enjoyed every moment. There had been an image of Ash, talking to Bardick and to the other scrawny cut-throat—Olliander.

‘Some magician has turned up from the Order,’ Ash had said. ‘I want you two to go and find him and get rid of him. I don’t want any trouble. He looks harmless enough—just a young upstart, but you had better take care of him quickly, just to be sure. Stick his body in a ditch somewhere or do with it as you will—I don’t care about the details.’

At that, Olliander had turned to Bardick with a perverse smile, and Bardick’s mind had filled with gleeful expectation.

There had been all kinds of other thoughts and memories flashing around in Bardick’s twisted mind, but somehow Samuel’s attention had been drawn to one particular scene of grisly murder. It had become apparent that Bardick and Samuel had already met, many years before.

Bardick had changed over the years—older, uglier, meaner—but time had not been able to fix his crooked nose or erase the long, white scar from his face that had flashed in the moonlight on that night long ago.