The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (79 page)

‘Five days, by horseback,’ Lomar replied. ‘It’s quite far. We’ll be staying in Order lodges along the way when we can, while our Royal Guard escort will be camping on the roadside.

Samuel nodded. ‘Then I have all I need.’

‘We’ve readied some horses for you,’ Master Glim said.

Samuel knew one of the animals on sight. ‘Jess!’ He stroked the beast fondly and he could tell that she, too, remembered him. ‘This is a surprise. I haven’t seen this nag since I returned to Cintar.’

‘She was out in the pastures, Master Samuel,’ the apprentice said. Samuel did not recognise the apprentice from a bag of salt, but the boy evidently knew him. ‘I fetched her up especially for you.’

‘Well, thank you for that,’ Samuel replied and swung himself up onto the saddle and patted Jess once more on the neck. It only now registered that people had begun calling him
Master
. Officially, he had never made it past Adept, but with even the likes of High Lord Rimus seeming to recognise his new status, it seemed that Samuel was, indeed, now truly a Master of the Order. Rimus, strict and stubborn a Turian as he was, would never utter such a title mistakenly.

Clearing his head of the thoughts, Samuel returned his attention to the faithful animal beneath him. ‘How have you been, old girl?’ he asked and Jess scraped one hoof along the floor by way of reply.

The others mounted their horses and they began riding slowly out of the school without further pause, threading through the busy streets until they passed through the enormous North Gate and were clear of the bustling city.

A squad of Royal Guards sat waiting on the other side of the Bardlebrook, all dressed in light leather armour trimmed in blue and gold, suitable for riding long distances. Two magicians were also waiting there with the men. They were Master Keller and Master Tailor, and once their introductions had been made, they began northwards along the busy highway.

‘What of the others?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘Weren’t there to be ten of us?’

‘They’ll meet us with the local company just short of Hammenton,’ Master Glim responded.

Goodfellow nodded and they rode on past the green fields and lines of wagons that were all bound for Cintar.

The Royal Guard rode ahead in twos. The magicians, not nearly so accustomed to riding as the soldiers, found it difficult keeping up and, at the end of the second day, they arrived into camp an hour after the soldiers had already put up their tents. Every so often, a rider or two would come back and check on them, before galloping off again to catch up with the main group. The soldiers preferred to keep to themselves, which was not surprising considering what had happened just recently.

The two magicians, Keller and Tailor seemed like friendly fellows. They were similar in age to Master Glim, middle-aged, and prone to swearing at each other in friendly banter. They had been working at a nearby quarry—aiding in the retrieval of metals required for the war effort—when Master Glim had sent for them. Fortunately, they had missed the battle at the palace. Both were Masters of Moving and Lifting and were apparently the most gifted in these spells amongst the Order. Samuel hoped he would have the chance to see their skills in use.

They spent the first night in a simple inn in the town of Burbershore and rejoined the Royal Guard at dawn as the men were packing up their camp. The captain of the men was named Orrell, and he was young for a captain, quite new to the rank, Lomar had explained. Despite his inexperience, he managed his men—even younger than he—like extensions of his own fingers. He was quick and precise in his instructions and his men had an innate respect for him that left them striving to meet his exact orders. Samuel knew he had met the captain before, but he could not, for the life of him, remember where. Finally, after racking his brain, he remembered. Orrell was the captain that had caught Samuel in the city, when Lord Hathen and Vander had taken him to see the Archmage. Life was full of strange coincidences, but Captain Orrell did not seem to remember Samuel, or he showed no sign of it if he did.

‘Samuel,’ Master Glim began as they were resting at a point where the road crossed a shallow, rocky stream. ‘What will you do once you have your revenge on Master Ash?’

‘What do you mean?’ Samuel returned, emptying stones from his boots.

‘I mean,
what will you do?
You seem to be so focused on killing the man; I don’t know what you will do with yourself once your goal has been met.’

‘I guess I will rest,’ Samuel finally replied.

Master Glim raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘And then?’

‘I don’t know,’ Samuel admitted.

‘I agree,’ Lomar called out from atop a rock. He was some distance away, but had obviously been listening. There was a splash as one of Orrell’s men slipped over and fell into the ankle-deep waters. The man cursed as he tugged off a boot and began to pour the water out and Captain Orrell looked towards him with dissatisfaction. ‘You should not set yourself so entirely on such a grim task. What will you do with yourself once you are done—or should you fail?

‘I won’t fail,’ Samuel stated adamantly. ‘Fate has set our courses to collide and every piece of my being still cries out for his death. I won’t fail.’

Lomar shrugged and continued looking up towards the hills.

‘Do you think Rimus will make a good Archmage?’ Samuel asked and Lomar dropped lightly from his perch and came beside them where they were squatting atop the many smooth stones.

‘Despite his flaws, High Lord Rimus is a decent choice,’ Lomar stated. ‘I won’t say he is a saint, however, for he suffers from many of the same failings as most Turians—no offence to you, Master Glim.’

‘None taken,’ the aging teacher replied. ‘I am only too well aware of the nature of my country folk.’

‘It’s just a pity that Grand Master Anthem could not take the role,’ Samuel said. ‘I mean, he is the strongest magician after all and I’m sure he would do a better job than Rimus.’

‘Actually,’ Master Glim revealed, ‘there was much discussion along those very lines, but I’m afraid now is just not a good time to put a Garten in such a position. The Grand Master is quite respected, but with the Empress being an Outlander herself, we all agreed that a Turian should fill the shoes of Archmage. If not, the people of Cintar may begin to think a coup has secretly taken place. Rimus is highly revered by the city folk and his inauguration will serve to calm their fears.’

‘I suppose you are right,’ Samuel admitted.

Lomar clapped his hands together loudly—one of the unusual mannerisms he was known to do—and stood up, noting the approach of the two Erics from along the stream. They had heard there was a waterfall a short distance away and had gone to investigate. As usual, Eric was laughing wildly while Goodfellow looked calm and quiet beside him.

‘You should see all the caves up there!’ Eric called. ‘It’s amazing!’

‘Samuel, do you think you will take up Anthem’s offer to study the Argum Stone?’ Master Glim asked, ignoring the excited hoots from Eric.

Samuel thought a moment. ‘Perhaps one day, but after this—after I have seen Ash’s corpse laid at my feet—I think I will feel like a long rest. I’ve had enough of such things. I would rather be out of the city for a time—especially given that High Lord Rimus will be Archmage. I really don’t think he likes me very much.’

Master Glim laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Samuel. While Grand Master Anthem is still at hand, you have nothing to fear. He will keep you under his wing. I’m sure you won’t let something trivial as Turian arrogance get the better of you. It would be a shame to see all your potential go to waste. I had my doubts, but I think the decision to appoint Rimus will turn out for the best. He’s been nothing but helpful these last few days—all the Council have.’

‘Well it’s good to hear that the Magicians’ Council is finally agreeing on something. I keep forgetting—you are on the Council now. Should I be calling you
My Lord
from this point on?

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Samuel, but my place is with the students. I will give up my position on the Council as soon as someone else can be found, so there’s no need to change what you call me. I have no time for those pompous asses. No offence, My Lord Lomar,’ he added, making an exaggerated and grandiose flourish with his hand, all in good jest.

Samuel looked to Lomar with pleasant surprise.

‘Yes, Samuel,’ Lomar admitted. ‘I think I will be keeping my place on the Council.’

‘I’m happy for you, Lomar,’ Samuel declared. ‘But don’t you think you will find the confines of the city stifling? And what about all those dreary meetings? How will you put up with all that?’

‘Things may be turning out for the best, but someone still needs to keep an eye on the Council. Also, my poor old body cannot be on the road forever. I have to admit I’m not as young as I used to be. My hair is giving me the hint.’ He pointed to the flecks of grey just starting to make themselves known at the edges of his thick, black hair.

‘Mount up!’ came a distant call from one of Orrell’s men, interrupting them.

Samuel groaned and rubbed his sore behind. ‘I hope I get used to all this riding again.’

They had been camping outside of Hammenton for a whole day and still there was no sign of the other company or the second group of magicians. The townsfolk knew nothing of them and the scouts returned with the same news. Captain Orrell gathered the magicians around him as his men settled in for the night.

‘I don’t know where Garret’s company is,’ he said, ‘but they’re not here and they haven’t been here any time recently.’ Lomar and Master Glim nodded. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that they’ve become lost. They should have come through the woods to the north, but there’s no sign of them. We can either wait longer and hope they arrive soon, or go on alone.’

‘What of the keep?’ Master Glim asked.

‘It’s only a short distance from here, built atop one of the stony hills. It could provide the occupants with some protection, but my men are experts at overcoming such fortifications. My men are few, but they are well-trained. Even without Garret’s company, we should be able to overcome any reasonable amount of resistance. However, my scouts say that they could be expecting us. The gates are already drawn firmly closed, which strikes me as unusual. You usually only shut the gates in times of disorder—to keep people out.’

Master Glim nodded. ‘Do you know how many are inside?’

‘High Lord Rimus said to expect only a handful of magicians and perhaps a dozen or so mercenaries. Nothing leads me to believe any different—yet.’

‘What if there are more?’ Lomar asked.

‘We can handle them,’ Orrell stated factually. ‘My squad are better trained than any mercenaries and are experts at dealing with magicians—distract them, or come at them from two sides, then cut their throats or fill them with arrows. Most mages can only deal with one thing at a time and are easily bewildered in battle—no offence to you good lords, of course.’

Master Glim nodded, somewhat unhappily, but he gave the captain a steadfast reply. ‘None taken.’

‘I’m not really one for battles,’ Goodfellow said nervously. ‘I didn’t think this would be so troublesome. I even thought it could be fun, but nothing really seems to be going to plan.’

‘Killing is never fun, Magician,’ Orrell said sternly in reply. ‘Thinking like that will get you killed.’ And Goodfellow looked embarrassed with himself. ‘Anyway,’ Orrell continued, ‘if it does turn out that the place is brimming with men, we simply won’t proceed. I’m not going to get us into anything over our heads. My scouts will let us know as soon as they find anything.’

‘This is all turning into a mess!’ Master Glim exclaimed unhappily, but Captain Orrell was unfazed.

‘Events in the field rarely choose to follow our plans,’ he explained. ‘What matters is that we are in control of the situation, so there is no need to get agitated just yet. We will only continue on when we so choose.’

Master Glim nodded, taking the advice under his belt.

‘Sir!’ a man said, pushing his way out of the dark shrubs to Orrell’s side.

‘What is it, Valiant?’ Orrell asked.

‘There’s something going on.’

‘What is it?’

‘Fighting within the keep, Captain.’

‘Oh?’ Orrell said with interest. ‘Garret’s men?’

‘We cannot tell, Captain. There’s obviously a commotion going on inside. We cannot see what’s happening, but it seems to be a bloodbath, Sir.’

‘How can you tell?’ Master Glim asked the man.

‘There’s a lot of screaming,’ Valiant replied. ‘More than I’d expect from a straightforward melee. Sent a chill down my spine. Sounds like they are tearing each other to pieces.’

Orrell pondered the report. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’

It was only a short way through the dark woods. They crossed a gully and a small rise before the keep became visible on the next hill, shaded grey in the moonlight. Four sheer walls surrounded what could only be called a tiny town. Two scouts were waiting at the edge of the trees as they approached. Captain Orrell’s Royal Guards sat silently behind.

‘Report,’ Orrell told his scouts.

‘Nothing for a time, Captain,’ one began. ‘Then the same as before—more screams and shouts. Someone even butchered the horses by the sound of it. The main gate opened a while ago, but no one came out. It’s been silent since then. We haven’t moved any closer to take a look. To be honest, Captain, none of us wanted to get any closer until the magicians came to take a look.’