The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (67 page)

‘We had all heard the rumours,’ Goodfellow spoke, ‘but we originally understood the Gartens were set to invade the Empire, not the other way around.’

‘That’s what the Emperor wanted you to think,’ Tulan explained. ‘The average Turian would have no problem whatsoever with the Emperor going to war, but the territories are another matter. He learned the hard way that the outlands must be carefully managed if they are not to fall back into disarray. A sudden return to war could bring disquiet and opportunity for rebellion to the territories, so better to make it seem like a defensive action. Once the invasion begins in full, he will proclaim that Garteny is a rogue state and must be conquered once and for all. Then, the Emperor can do as he wishes.’

‘That’s horrid,’ Goodfellow stated.

‘Of course it is,’ Tulan responded, ‘but it’s also very clever. That’s what politics is all about.’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ Samuel asked.

‘There’s not much I can do,’ Tulan replied, ‘as it’s difficult. There are some on the Council who secretly do not favour the Emperor’s plans, but do not dare say so. The Emperor is all-powerful. No one can tell him what he can and cannot do. All we can do is make gentle suggestions.’

‘Could the Magicians’ Council just refuse to grant the Order’s assistance?’

Tulan laughed and shook his head. ‘Certainly not! That would be the end of us! We exist by the pure grace of the Emperor. One word from him and the Order vanishes. It’s only while we are useful to him that the Order can exist at all. That is why I have been progressing with the utmost care. Given enough time, I am hoping to turn this situation around, but all this sudden commotion is the last thing I need at the moment.’

‘What about the Archmage? Doesn’t he have any leverage?’ Goodfellow questioned.

‘He’s more intent on the war than anyone.’

‘So I have learned,’ Samuel noted.

‘But it doesn’t matter now,’ Tulan then stated. ‘Despite Master Dividian’s best efforts, it looks as though he has not been able to ready enough new magicians to support the Emperor’s armies. The Council has been debating the matter every day for long months, and it finally seems that the Emperor is rescinding his request for the Order’s assistance in battle. Today he told us we are no longer needed.’

‘Do you mean it?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘Does that mean it’s all over?’

‘Yes, of course. So there’s no need to be making so much trouble. If you give it some time, I’m sure you will see the Order returning to its old self soon enough.’

‘So the Emperor no longer wants magicians to go to battle?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.

‘That’s what I’ve heard,’ Tulan said.

‘And the invasion of Garteny is truly cancelled?’

‘The Emperor’s forces can’t hope to assail the fortified Garten cities. The Order’s assistance was the pivotal point of his invasion plan. I can’t see how any war could go ahead at this point. Turian losses would be extreme. No magic equals no invasion.’

‘What I’m asking is, are you
sure
about it? I mean, are the troops all packing up and going home, or are they still massing along the border?’

Tulan looked confounded. ‘Well…I don’t know. It just seemed obvious that the invasion can’t go ahead. Garten defences are just too strong. That’s what has been stopping it all these years. The Emperor will just have to come up with some other plan, or give up for good.’

‘Oh. Then we may still have a problem. While I was in Tindal, I met Master Ash,’ Samuel began to explain, ‘and he had unearthed an ancient artefact called the Argum Stone.’

‘Yes, I heard something about it,’ Tulan admitted. ‘They put it in the High Tower. I thought it was just some old relic.’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel continued. ‘I believe it is a source of magic from the time of the Ancients and the Archmage believes the same. I think you’ll find the Emperor now has the advantage he needs to break the Gartens. When I spoke to the Archmage, he seemed quite confident that the war was going ahead and I don’t think he cares if the Order lends their assistance or not.’

Tulan’s smile began to falter. ‘So what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying this relic, the Argum Stone, could potentially be powerful enough that the Emperor doesn’t
need
the Order’s help any more. In fact, I think he’s painfully aware of how problematic the Order can be and has decided it may be better to do without us altogether. With the Argum Stone and the Staff of Elders together, who knows what the Archmage could achieve?’

Tulan’s jaw literally dropped open. He stood and began pacing up and down the small room, rubbing at his eyes. ‘Hell’s bells, this is worse news than I could have feared,’ he stated. He stopped and looked to Samuel and Goodfellow, his eyes already red-rimmed from all the rubbing. He looked suddenly devastated. ‘I can’t believe it. I was foolish to think we had won so easily. What can I do now?’

‘There’s no need to panic,’ Samuel urged him. ‘Not yet. As far as we know, the Argum Stone is still locked up inside the High Tower. The Archmage has not figured out its workings, so we still may have time. From what I understand, the Argum Stone will need to be properly readied before it can be used at all. I suspect this has not happened yet. At the very least, I suspect that if such a powerful object was used in earnest, we magicians would feel it.’

‘Yes. Perhaps, you are right. Samuel, I need to find out more about this Argum Stone. What else do you know?’

‘That’s all,’ Samuel admitted. ‘The thing is immune to magical effect, but even that could be because the object is in a dormant state. Once awakened, it could potentially be another Staff of Elders. All this is only suspicion. I would need some time with the thing and we need more information. We should search the Great Library, or seek advice from the most learned of the Order.’

‘No. You two can’t risk going to the School of Magic. It’s being closely watched.’

‘So what, then?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘If they haven’t been able to awaken the Argum Stone by now, I’m sure they are hastily working on it,’ Samuel mused. ‘Ash seems to have some knowledge of the Ancient Lick, so I would guess he is the one doing most of the work. Somewhere he has found some information about the Ancients that no one else has come upon or he wouldn’t have found the thing in the first place. The only way to stop the war now is to stop them from unlocking the dormant power of that relic, or else to steal it away from them altogether.’

‘Lord Jarrod has just left the city this morning,’ Tulan stated. ‘Some say he has returned to Hammenton. There was once a small magic school there, but it was closed some time ago and converted into a retreat for research and transcription of the most ancient texts. Lord Jarrod runs the place. It’s possible he has returned there to unearth such information as you suggest.’

‘It’s possible,’ Samuel agreed. ‘If only the Grand Master were here. I’m sure he would be able to help us.’

‘Anthem?’ Tulan queried.

‘Yes. I’m sure he would know something.’

‘Very well. I will try to contact him.’

‘Contact him?’ Samuel asked with disbelief. ‘In Garteny?’

‘Oh, no. He’s not in Garteny,’ Tulan responded. ‘He never would have gone there and I doubt King Otgart would let him return in any account. He’s not far away at all, on the isle of Dunbar, where he can keep an eye on the city.’

‘He
is
? How do you know?’

‘You can’t spend as much time on the road as I have without getting to know some people, Samuel. Anthem is quite good at remaining hidden, but not perfect. Eventually, word of his hiding place made its way through my network of contacts to me.’

Samuel laughed. ‘Wonderful! Could he get here soon?’

‘Yes, he could be here in a few days—if he wanted to. It’s very dangerous for him now. He has made a great enemy of the Archmage. There is quite a decent price on his head.’

‘The Archmage would do
that
?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘Certainly,’ Tulan replied. ‘And often has. The Order has its own secret members who do all the Archmage’s dirty work; hired killers, thieves, assassins—even magicians.’

‘People like Ash,’ Samuel noted sourly.

Tulan nodded. ‘Exactly, and much worse.’

‘I’m sure he will come,’ Samuel asserted. ‘The Grand Master would jump at the chance to stop this war.’

‘As you say,’ Tulan responded. ‘I will try to get word to him, but I do not know him as well as you do. He will either come or he won’t. I guess it’s up to him.’

‘But we should search the Great Library in the meantime. The chances are slim, but we may find something useful there. Any information on the relic could prove useful.’

‘If we can get word to Eric Pot, he can go there without raising suspicions,’ Goodfellow suggested.

‘Your friend?’ Tulan asked. ‘Yes, that will have to do. I will send word to him at once.’

‘With your green-capped friend?’ Goodfellow enquired.

‘That’s right. He’s quite the useful sort.’

‘You seem to have some secrets of your own, Lord Goodwin,’ Samuel noted. ‘Perhaps, one day, you will have to explain all your secretive associates and safehouses to us.’

‘Perhaps,’ Tulan replied, ‘but not too soon. When this is all done. Now we have much to do. I will send further word when it is safe to meet again. Let us hope we have some time before the relic can be used. We must stop this war at all costs.’ He looked grim at the thought. ‘Otherwise many good lives will be lost.’

With that, they bade each other goodbye and Tulan slipped out the door.

‘Lord Goodwin seems to be an interesting fellow,’ Goodfellow noted.

‘So I am beginning to learn,’ Samuel replied, ‘but also I trust him. I trust him like a brother.’

And they waited in their tiny hideaway, with little else to do but talk as the hours passed slowly by.

Samuel soon grew restless. He dared not practise his spells for fear of being discovered and so he resigned himself to sitting with Goodfellow in the tiny room, and jotting down his thoughts and ideas about the Argum Stone. Often he thought of the Downs and the wonderfully simple life he had lived there in far Tindal. If only he was there still, safe and perfectly happy. Leila’s death had put an end to all that, of course. That life had died with her, but at least he would see her death avenged.

The next day came and went without any word from Tulan or Eric and Samuel declared that he could wait no longer. The confinement of the tiny safehouse was becoming torture.

Goodfellow gave him a critical stare. ‘It would be more sensible to stay here, Samuel. The others are competent. Going outside only brings opportunity for disaster.’

Samuel stamped around the room, thumping the rickety, old table with his fist. ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing! At any moment, Ash could unlock the power of the Argum Stone and we’re sitting here idle!’

Goodfellow stood slowly and faced his impatient friend. He brushed the hair from his own eyes before placing his hands firmly on Samuel’s shoulders. ‘Listen. What can you do? What can you possibly do that the others aren’t doing already? I’m sure Eric or Master Glim will contact us when we are needed. Listen to reason. If you are caught again, everything is lost.’

‘If there’s a slim chance, I have to take it,’ Samuel said, ‘or else I’ll go crazy waiting in here.’

‘Very well,’ Goodfellow said, giving in and sitting back down at the rickety table and returning his gaze to his writings. ‘It’s your choice. Just be careful and try to be back before the others find out.’

The hooded mage strode across the school grounds, rubbing his hands together briskly in the mist, with puffs of vapour streaming from his mouth with each breath. The night was freezing cold, and so it was not surprising for this magician to head directly for the Great Library, head down in solemn thought. It was not considered unusual for a mage, awoken by some sudden nagging puzzlement or notion, to pursue his curiosity at such an hour. Magicians were considered quite peculiar by common folk. Many were considered peculiar by each other. It came from years of questioning existence and the universe, from bending the common laws of nature with the mere will and, as some said, living with only the company of other such-minded men.

The mage lifted a sleeved arm to the great doors, pushed one open and stepped in. Once again, the school grounds were dark, cold and empty.

Samuel closed the large door behind him, glad to put an end to the cold wind that was blowing outside. He turned his attention towards the rows of shelves. No one was visible, but the fact that many lamps were still lit, meant that someone else was probably still here, reading quietly in some dim aisle. He went directly for the cellar stairs and each old wooden step groaned as it begrudgingly took his weight. Somewhere above, in the perfect quiet, a page turned and a nose sniffed. Such sounds had a strange way of carrying in the old library, especially in the dead of night.

It was midnight-black and as cold as a mountain river down in the cellar. A bluish sphere of light bloomed into life above Samuel’s shoulder and he glared at it, still rubbing his palms together for warmth, until it became a yellow-white hue more suitable for reading. Many magicians could not seem to maintain a spell and concentrate on their research as well, and so the pillars were periodically lined with shelves for the placing of lanterns. Samuel was no common magician and such a task was simple for him. Then again, even the most agile of acrobats sometimes stumble. Samuel tried momentarily to warm himself with a spell, but the skill, as basic as it was, eluded him—he blamed his nerves. Instead, Samuel pulled his robes tighter and began down the nearest aisle.