The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (64 page)

‘Stop there!’ Vander shouted as well. ‘Stop there at once!’

A few of the guards had been attracted by the fuss and the captain had turned from his business to look directly at Samuel. Samuel looked over his shoulder and could see the councillors now puffing and hurrying after him. Only Lord Jarrod seemed unaffected by the exertion and stayed easily beside the other two without breaking his stride, pinning Samuel with his glinting gaze. Their shouts had now attracted the full attention of the Royal Guard and the men now stood attentively as Samuel approached; three agitated old magicians in pursuit. The captain waited there with his hands on his hips, a mix of puzzlement and amusement set on his face.

‘Captain! Stop that man!’ Vander called out through his wheezing.

Samuel was trapped like a rat between the guards and the councillors. ‘Yes, Captain,’ Samuel called out also. ‘Stop that man!’ and he pointed to one of the city folk who just happened to be standing nearby, watching the show. At being singled out and realising that the Royal Guard were now staring straight at him, the man turned about and darted into his house in a panic, slamming the door quickly behind him.

The captain was not fooled, however, and remained waiting patiently. As Samuel reached the guards, he realised he had no other recourse but to run. He burst into a dash and tried to scrape past the men, but they had their arms around him and held him firm as he struggled to wriggle free. Each man had brutish strength and Samuel found his squirming quite futile. They scuffled on the ground a moment before hands had him by the collar and the guards brought him to his feet.

The captain stood before Samuel with a look of great fascination. ‘What do we have here?’ he asked. ‘Magicians chasing magicians? How intriguing.’

Samuel realised he had no choice but to use his magic to escape but, as soon as he began to summon, streaks of magic came flashing in around him and he felt his hold on the ether suddenly severed. He recognised the weaves of Vander and Hathen and together the councillors had succeeded in blocking Samuel from reaching the
source
. The three councillors then came pushing through the clump of Royal Guards to stand by Samuel. With their hefty physiques, Vander and Hathen had no trouble at all shoving the guards aside, leaving Jarrod to glide in after them.

‘See! I was right!’ Lord Hathen said, striving to catch his breath and looking rather ill. ‘It’s that young troublemaker Samuel. Here! In the city!’

‘By the gods, lad, what are you doing here?’ Vander asked, red-faced and glazed in sweat. ‘You don’t know how much trouble you are in for, young man.’

‘You should not have returned at all,’ Lord Jarrod stated. Samuel was somewhat surprised by the sound of his words, for his voice was surprisingly thin and nasally—rather laughable, in fact, and not at all as menacing as he would have assumed. Samuel had not had any such dreams since he had last left Cintar, but it did confirm to him that the two scheming voices in his head had indeed belonged to Dividian and Jarrod.

‘May I ask what’s happening here, My Lords?’ the captain of the guards asked.

‘Thank you for your assistance, Captain,’ Hathen replied. ‘We’ve had no end of trouble with this young man in the past. We thought he had left the city for good, but now he seems to have had the gall to return. He has some serious questions to answer.’

It was pointless for Samuel to struggle against the men who held him so firmly, and his magic was blocked by the councillors’ spell. Together, their magic was too strong. If he had had his wits about him, he would have called a spell shield into place at first sight of the men. It would have guaranteed a confrontation, but at least he would not have been defenceless.

‘What shall we do with him, then?’ Hathen asked.

‘Perhaps you should just let him go,’ Jarrod said as smoothly as he could. ‘I’m sure he won’t bother us any further.’

‘Release him?’ Vander asked with disbelief. ‘You must be mad! No, we will take him to the Archmage. He asked to see the boy if he ever had the chance.’

At this, Jarrod only smirked.

‘Would you like some assistance?’ the captain asked, still looking quite fascinated by the situation.

‘Thank you, Captain. We certainly would. We don’t want to risk having this good-for-nothing slip away from us. What’s your name, good Captain?’ Hathen asked.

‘Captain Orrell. We’re just heading back to the palace, so I’ll be happy to escort you back.’

‘Very good, Captain. If you would, we need to take this young magician to the palace. If your men can help us, we would be very appreciative. We have the young man’s magic in check, and I’m sure he won’t want to risk upsetting you and catching a blade in his back—would you, young man?’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel replied darkly.

‘And we don’t want the city folk catching sight of such a scene,’ Lord Vander added. ‘It would not be good for the Order.’

The captain nodded to his men and they released Samuel’s numbing arms.

‘Then, if you are returning to the palace, I will go on,’ Lord Jarrod stated. ‘I have other business to attend to. You seem to be managing things here.’

‘Very well, Lord Jarrod,’ Vander said. ‘We will meet again for dinner and speak more of our business then.’

At that, Lord Jarrod strode off and Captain Orrell and his men began escorting Samuel and the two councillors towards the palace. The thought of being dragged before the Archmage was not nearly as disturbing as being left in the presence of Lord Jarrod. Everything about the man made Samuel’s skin crawl. He seemed unnerving, even unnatural. Samuel could have believed him to be some kind of devil or hideous creature disguised as a man—all except for his ridiculous voice, which served to break the illusion completely. It was impossible to imagine any such dark creature sounding so comical. It was no small wonder that Lord Jarrod spoke so little.

Orrell and his men began their task and led Samuel through the streets, parting the growing crowds with their gruff commands. Samuel considered attempting to run several times, but every time he glanced towards a side street or alley, he found Orrell’s men looking back at him gravely and he put the thought aside. Without his magic, he was powerless to escape.

It was not long before they found themselves marching in the shadows of the palace walls, following the compound’s great girth until reaching the mighty, hinged gates that led into the grounds proper.

Despite his time in the city, Samuel had never had the opportunity to truly appreciate the palace itself. It was considered one of the jewels of the world. It could almost be considered an entity in itself and could easily swallow a country town such as Stable Canthem within it, without even touching the sides. Towers shot up like spears to heaven, fortified with engineering and age-old magic that defied explanation. The walls were designed to withstand any assault, even when the city itself had fallen. The sight was awesome and it did make Cintar truly magnificent. With such motivation, it was no small wonder that the Emperor felt so driven to be the ruler of the known world.

Within the gates—themselves titanic constructions—Orrell’s squad marched across the wide grounds and led the way through a number of gates and courtyards until they reached the very base of the Mage Tower. Looking up, the stonework seemed to stretch skywards almost eternally and Samuel could feel the embers of magic that had been driven into the very stones themselves.

‘We shall take our leave from here, if that suits you,’ Captain Orrell suggested, and Vander and Hathen bade the man and his troops thanks before sending them off.

‘Go on!’ Vander ordered. ‘We don’t have all day, boy.’

Samuel proceeded through the tower entrance, where he met the base of a wide set of stone stairs. The tower was quite narrow and completely round in design, so its stairs curled up against the inside walls, stopping occasionally at haphazardly built doors or trapdoors. Wooden beams and struts stuck out from everywhere and the feeling was quite constrictive. For all the impressiveness of the tower from the outside, inside it seemed entirely disorganised, like a patchwork of different ideas and repairs that spanned the centuries.

After climbing many stairs and ascending many levels, Samuel began to realise he had not tired even in the slightest. Hathen and Vander, too, looked fresh and vital, bounding up spryly behind him. There were certainly spells at work and it immediately answered all Samuel’s questions about the practicalities of such tall constructions. Somehow, the builders had forged the tower with spells that would aid those who climbed its heights, making such ascent no more difficult than traversing a flat floor.

Samuel narrowed his eyes as he climbed, trying to ascertain the workings of such spells, but the magic was old and deep and seeped into everything, bar the most recent of additions. All he could guess was that the tower transformed the magic of those within into a subtle Lifting field, assisting them with each step. As such, only magicians would benefit from climbing the tower, which perhaps explained why this had been designated the
Mage Tower
. Common folk would quickly tire of dragging themselves up and down each day. Samuel immediately began wondering if the other palace towers had any similar such spells in place. The High Tower dwarfed the Mage Tower in all dimensions and, despite his current predicament, he could not help but hope to quench his sudden curiosity.

Finally, just as Samuel was guessing they must be running out of steps, Vander announced just that.

‘Stop here,’ he instructed, pausing before an ancient door. It was simple in design and, as with the rest of the tower, seemed to have been patched up and mended on numerous occasions. ‘We’ll leave you with the Archmage. Don’t try any of your nonsense with him. He won’t take any cheek, so watch your tongue lest you wish to lose it.’

‘And don’t even consider using your magic in there,’ Hathen added, raising a finger at Samuel. ‘You’ve been warned.’

With that, the hefty Hathen and the stocky Vander turned about and started back down the spiral stairs. They had no sooner disappeared from sight when the spell around Samuel vanished along with them.

Samuel waited a few moments, moving his eyes between the stairs and the door in front of him, wondering if he should attempt to escape. He could be out and back to the School of Magic, but then, he assumed that the two burly Lords would come to the same conclusion. They were probably waiting just around the corner or at the base of the tower and, in truth, he had been keen to meet with the enigmatic Archmage since he had first arrived in Cintar as a youth.

There was nothing left for him to do but enter the room. Samuel raised his hand somewhat hesitantly and knocked upon the door, feeling the firm and smooth timber against his knuckles. He could feel a magician waiting on the other side, somewhere inside the room.

‘Enter,’ a muffled voice called aloud.

Samuel turned the handle and pushed the door inwards. Revealed within was a large and rich chamber that filled the whole level of the tower, great and round. Tapestries hung from the walls and statues and carvings lay on ornate pedestals. Various thick rugs and carpets of many and varied colours covered the floor. Fine curtains fluttered and waved beside an outside balcony where the Archmage stood, leaning on the balustrade, drinking from a large goblet while he surveyed the city below. He still wore his bedclothes, worn and grubby, and he had large, furred slippers upon his feet. As he turned to face Samuel, he revealed an unshaven face and grey, matted hair, with ruddy stains like wine around his lips. The Archmage’s aura was quite strong, coursing around him boldly, but it was not nearly as impressive as Samuel imagined that the Archmage of the Order of Magicians would have.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, as Samuel took a step inside the room.

‘Archmage Ordi, I am—’

‘—Samuel. I know who you are, boy! Don’t be impertinent!’ the Archmage said impatiently. ‘I mean
what do you want?
Why are you causing all this fuss?’ When Samuel did not immediately reply, he sighed. ‘Well, shut the door and stop gawking. Come closer. I trust your return has some meaning. I doubt you would come back to us flippantly, without some good cause, so I’m sure there must be something behind it. Come now. This is your opportunity to clear the air.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Samuel stammered, closing the chamber door behind him and crossing the soft rugs towards the centre of the room. ‘I want to ask you a question, if I may?’

‘You may,’ the Archmage remarked, scratching at his grey-stubbled cheek. ‘But first, you must answer mine. As Archmage, I am privy to a wealth of information, but my sources sometimes leave me wanting. We magicians are a curious bunch, aren’t we? But it is our nature, after all, so I shouldn’t really be surprised. Tell me, what gives you the gall to return to Cintar? Didn’t you realise you would be caught and punished, or had the thought not crossed your mind?’

‘I have something to do here in Cintar,’ Samuel explained.

‘Hmm,’ old Ordi mused. ‘So I have heard. We can get to that later. Tell me then, why did you leave in the first place?’

‘I had to leave. I would have been killed if I’d stayed here.’

‘Killed? What makes you think that?’

‘Lord Jarrod had sent his men to murder me.’

The Archmage chuckled slightly, looking quite amused. ‘How did you come to such a fantastic conclusion? Was it that infernal Grand Master Anthem?’