The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (72 page)

Samuel’s wounds healed quickly with the aid of spells, but still, if he moved too quickly or in the wrong way, the pain was terrible and his flesh felt like it had been torn anew. He lay in his bed, struggling to read, turning pages and scribbling down notes with his good arm as well he could. When he felt stronger, he began to sit up and, after that, he kept his arm strung at his chest with a scrap of cloth.

For many days, Samuel, Lomar and the Erics scoured through the volumes of text that they had stolen, searching for any mention of the Argum Stone or the black magic that Ash had been employing.

They had only managed to steal a fraction of what had been hoarded in the Argum Stone’s chamber, and almost half of that had been left in the carriage. Eric had scolded Samuel when he heard that the books in the carriage had not been destroyed, but Goodfellow was supportive of his friend’s actions. Lomar took the middle ground, admitting that, for the sake of stopping the war, the books should have been destroyed, but that Samuel probably had little opportunity to do so as he defended against his pursuers. Samuel finally admitted his fault and stated that they would have to do the best they could with what little material they had managed to save.

Each page they read seemed to present only further questions and precious few answers. Goodfellow had fixed papers along one wall and they began to jot anything they thought was important upon it. They found many references to the Ancient Lick and they jotted them all down on the wall in an attempt to find a common frame of reference. At first, they had only a handful of figures, but as they progressed, they found more and more relationship between the symbols, slowly developing some meaning between them all.

They sorted all the books into piles of apparently useful books and those that appeared nonsensical or useless. Many contained garbled poems and indecipherable gibberish and some were unrelated to anything relevant at all. Some were written in languages that none of them were capable of understanding.

Every book ever written with even a mention of the Ancients must have been piled in that chamber, even if they were filled with absolute nonsense. Some contained no more than a single word or reference. Some were so old and damaged that the text was completely illegible. Still, they forged on, sorting through the many pages.

Samuel scoured every leaf and page for reference to the Argum Stone or black magic and the only Ancient phrase he knew, ‘a
mun-morbayah’
—the words Ash had used that had made the relic burn instantly hot. He found a sketch of what
may
have been the Argum Stone, amongst a page of turbid writings, but he could make no sense of them. He put the pages on the appropriate pile for future study. Of the strange phrase, he could only guess that it was some key word for the relic, but its exact meaning was a mystery. The only clue was that the words seemed similar to the Old Tongue phrase
ah’munna moora bai ahmeen
, which meant
‘point through the centre’
or perhaps
‘touch around the middle’
. The meaning was vague, to say the least. Samuel chewed over his thoughts, scratched at the scar on his arm and kept on reading.

They learned that the Ancients often used their ability to travel instantly by the means of Journey Spells, such as Eric’s. Samuel read how one powerful man, called Marrag Lin, the Seer of Korda, defied his peers and used this ability to open a gate to another world altogether. He was immediately overcome by the evil presence that dwelt there and at once became its slave. After that, he performed many dark and evil deeds and offered his colleagues to his new masters as sacrifices. The man learned how to use the captured essence of his victims as a source of power and he caused much suffering before he was overcome. His soul had become so darkened by the black magic, that he was drawn into the very world he had opened. He defied the laws of death and himself became a devil along with his three closest disciples. The use of such magic was forever forbidden and all record of its use supposedly destroyed.

‘The Devils of Korda?’ Goodfellow asked after Samuel had explained what he had found.

‘I thought it a tale until now,’ Samuel said.

‘Most tales have their roots in truth,’ Lomar explained. ‘We have learned that Ash is treading where he should not and we should be even more careful when facing him. I would not be surprised if this tale were true and devils did once walk the land but, even if it were not, it is still not a wise idea to meddle with things unknown. Ignorance can be most dangerous. Ash should be very careful.’

‘Do you think the Archmage or the other councillors would resort to such black magic?’ Eric asked.

Lomar shook his head. ‘I hope not. Only a fool would deal with such powers. Even the Archmage would not stoop to such things. At least, I hope not. If the bearer of such power were to be overcome by evil, he would be very difficult to defeat.’

‘It took all our strength to save Master Glim from the trap in the Argum Stone’s chamber,’ Samuel explained. ‘And we had no idea it was even there. Such magic seems to be entirely different from our own and much more powerful.’

‘I’m sure we can find some way to match it. It is only powerful because we have no knowledge of it,’ Lomar said with determination, and they continued reading until their eyes ached in their heads.

In the following days, they came across various rituals and rites related to such dark power. The authors described unholy incantations and animal and human sacrifice and the use of bodily organs. Few of the authors wrote with clarity, as if gripped by the throes of madness and their works often ended abruptly. It seemed there were many groups around the land that used simple black magic to further their own causes.
Covens
, the author called them, and they would meet and practise their art in secret. Even common folk could use such power, for it depended on no skills of their own, and their jealousy towards magicians often brought the two groups into conflict. Even the most well-meaning practitioner of the dark arts soon became tainted, resorting to more and more vile acts until that individual was overcome altogether. Along with this were documented the many great purges of such witches by the lawmakers of the times. Those charged with finding and punishing any folk using any dark arts were traditionally called
witch hunters
.

After a slow week they had discovered much, but their search was still only beginning. They still had no idea of how to combat black magic with their own. In all probability, Lomar stated, that was why Ash employed it. It was totally alien to the Order and made him as powerful as several magicians with its use. Their only salvation was that black magic required a source of power different to their own magic. First, a ritual must be performed, invoking the power of the dark spirits. Then, once some power had been granted, it must be stored for future use in jars or vials with vital fluids that sustained it, exactly as Ash had done. Once these stores of power had been exhausted, then the summoning ritual must be performed again. This was both a blessing and a curse for those who wished to use black magic, for you could cast as many spells as you had vials, almost instantly and with little invocation but, once they were used, there was no way to quickly use any magic again. Only the greater witches could channel power directly from the dark realm, and generally only for very limited durations.

As they studied and learned, the four friends had no idea of what was happening outside their room, apart from what little news Eezel could pass them, but they dared not venture out while the hunt for them continued. Every moment was spent in preparation. Even a single, tiny clue could prove to be a powerful tool against Ash. However, as each day passed, they grew more desperate, for they had found nothing about the Argum Stone, how to awaken it or what powers it held stored within. This meant that Ash probably still had the information, assuming it actually existed at all. They had no choice, however, but to continue on—hour by hour, day by day.

‘A magician is coming!’ Samuel announced, feeling a sudden power beginning up the stairs.

The four of them stood and waited anxiously. They dared not summon their magic lest it gave them away altogether. After an ominous moment, there was a soft tap on the door. They each looked to the others, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. The knocking sounded again, much louder and more impatiently and then a familiar voice shouted in at them.

‘Open the door, you mangy street-whores before I blast it open!’ came the voice of Grand Master Anthem.

Eric lifted the bar and quickly opened the door. Grand Master Anthem stepped into the room without a pause and surveyed them all with discontent.

‘What a sorry welcome!’ he croaked irritably. ‘Oh, my poor stomach. I thought that cursed boat was going to roll at over any moment.’

‘Grand Master!’ Lomar said. ‘You’ve arrived at last. We’re so happy to see you!’

‘Let me sit down,’ Anthem said, pushing past them. ‘That ocean voyage has beaten me like a bully at an old dog.’

Samuel raised an eyebrow at the comment, for the old man was obviously in an unpleasant mood. His time in exile had certainly roughened him around the edges.

Anthem removed his blue travelling cloak, revealing a thin shirt and short pants. His pale, bony arms and legs poked out from his clothes, dispelling any guise of reverence he may have once possessed.

‘Looks like a beggars’ den,’ Anthem said, looking around at their room. ‘It’ll do…I guess.’ He then collapsed into a chair at the small table. ‘So what have you four been doing here all this time? I hear you have been causing all sorts of trouble and mischief, so I thought I had better come and lend you a hand before you mess everything up altogether. Can’t anyone do anything right without me?’

‘We have stolen back many books from the High Tower,’ Lomar said, gesturing to the books lying all over the room. ‘Dividian has been taking them from the Great Library and passing them to Lord Jarrod.’

‘Evidently,’ Anthem noted, picking up a small notebook from the table and flipping through its pages.

‘Ash has been researching and practising black magic,’ Samuel added.

‘Black
magic?’ Anthem asked with disbelief. ‘Why, by the nine gods, would he deal with such a foul art? The man should know better. It will be his ruin to meddle with such things.’

‘Perhaps, that is exactly why Master Ash is the one using black magic,’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘Perhaps the Archmage or Lord Jarrod have goaded him into it.’

‘Possible,’ Anthem replied, nodding and raising one grey eyebrow in thought. ‘Master Ash would be only too keen to experiment with some power that could put him above other magicians, but it makes no real sense. The Archmage already has as many magicians as he requires at his command, and he has the Staff of Elders. Why would he want more power than that?’

‘For the Argum Stone,’ Samuel informed.

‘What’s that?’ Anthem asked.

Samuel was genuinely surprised that the old man had not heard of the relic. He was sure his old principal would have known everything. ‘It’s an artefact from the Age of the Ancients. It has been put inside the High Tower while they study it. We believe it is dormant now and that Ash is working to awaken it. They don’t seem to have discovered the final secrets on how to do so. We were hoping the secrets may be here in one of these books, but so far we’ve had little luck.’

‘And what do you think they’ll do with the thing if they do manage to awaken it? What can it do?’ Anthem asked with interest.

‘I’m not exactly sure anyone knows what it can do,’ Samuel informed the old man, ‘but the Archmage is certain it will help them to overthrow Garteny. In fact, he seems to think it will assure a sweeping victory.’

‘Can it be that powerful?’ the old man asked with a hint of disbelief.

‘He seemed to think so,’ Samuel replied.

‘Then what should we do?’ Goodfellow asked.

Anthem rubbed his whiskered chin with his bony, freckled hand. ‘The Gartens are already prepared for the war, but I fear it will be long and bloody. If the Emperor sends such an artefact into the fray, it will be nothing short of disastrous. Either way, if there is anything we can do to stop it, we should try.’

‘Is it true you are a Garten, Grand Master?’ Samuel asked.

The old man nodded solemnly. ‘I am, but I have not been back for a long, long time. It is not a place where I would be welcomed.’

‘How is it that Garten withstood the Emperor’s forces when every other nation of Amandia fell?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘No one seems to know the whole story of how the Great War ended. Was it because of something you did?’ At that, the old man pinned Goodfellow with blazing eyes. ‘I only ask because everyone has heard the tales and stories. It would be good to know first-hand what happened.’

‘That’s true enough—very few people know the whole truth of the Great War,’ the old man said. ‘I am one of them, so let me tell you what happened. As the nations of Amandia fell beneath the crushing might of the Empire, the Gartens, far away in the frigid north, became naturally wary. The Emperor’s diplomats had been pleading ignorance and spouting lies to King Otgart for years, but they were quickly removed from their heads after envoys from Pine Vale and Tudonnam came to see the King, begging for assistance and telling him of all the Empire had been plotting. The King sent his armies into battle without delay. When Garten and Turian forces first met on the battlefield, it looked as if the Gartens would last no longer than our neighbours, for the Emperor had five powerful magicians at his service who could tear through men like wet paper.’