The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (80 page)

‘I feel magic,’ Master Glim stated and Samuel could see that he was right. Many spells had been cast recently, of almost every nature. The lingering glow of magic was still glimmering just above the walls.

‘I think we should wait until daylight,’ Orrell reflected. ‘Whatever just happened here seems to be over. Our mission may have been done for us by the sound of things. Just in case, I’d rather not walk into a trap. We’ll take a look after sunup.’

They all agreed and made their way back to the camp. Scouts remained at the site to relay any news, but Samuel slept soundly until he was roused by the sun in his eyes and the smells of cooking.

‘Get up, sleepy head,’ Eric called, poking his head into Samuel’s tent. ‘Breakfast is ready.’

Samuel yawned. ‘Any news? Are we going to the keep?’

Eric bobbed his shoulders. ‘Someone went in at first light and said the place is empty.’

‘They went without us?’

‘It was one of Orrell’s scouts. I think that after a few hours of waiting, they forgot their fears and boredom got the better of them. At least now we know it’s not a trap.’

Samuel struggled out of the tent and stood beside Eric. His back had lumps in it from sleeping on the hard ground. ‘Nothing there? Where did they all go?’

‘No one knows,’ Eric said. ‘They didn’t leave, but they’re not there. Captain Orrell wants us to take a look after breakfast.’

Samuel’s stomach grumbled and he strode over to one of the campfires. The other magicians were already eating their fill of stewed rabbit, which the soldiers had caught and prepared for them. They also had grilled some sort of pheasant and were picking at the bones when Captain Orrell came striding back into camp.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked of the group and they nodded and stood, quickly wiping their chins. ‘Good, let’s go.’

The keep stood quietly on the hill. A few ribbons of smoke rose slowly from within its depths, but otherwise it was deathly still.

‘Any movement?’ Orrell asked of his scouts.

‘No, Captain. No one has left, no one has approached. No signs of anything at all.’

Orrell nodded and then stepped boldly from the cover of the woods and started up the rise. Samuel looked to Master Glim and they both started after the man. Orrell’s men then filed out from the trees and followed them, hands readied on their weapons. When they had climbed the barren slope around the keep and faced its yawning gates, Orrell signalled to his men.

‘Stay here,’ he told the magicians while the soldiers hurried past them through the solid entry way.

The mages, Keller and Tailor came up beside them, looking nervous. Samuel felt a shiver himself. The whole situation was eerie.

A handful of Orrell’s men lingered a short distance away, surveying the empty hillsides with uneasy eyes.

‘What do you feel?’ Lomar asked of the group.

‘Nothing,’ Master Glim replied and the others shook their heads in agreement.

Samuel could still see a slight trace of the spells from the previous night, but there was no new magic in the air.

‘Come in,’ Orrell’s voice called from inside.

Master Glim led the way, pulling his cloak tighter around him. Despite the clear sky and sunshine, there was a chill in the air.

Inside, they found a large courtyard, around a central stone well and surrounded by blockish buildings all constructed of roughly-hewn stone. Orrell was waiting beside the well, talking with some of his men. The others were searching elsewhere within the keep. It was a tightly enclosed space, but could probably house thirty or forty men at a pinch. There was room for only the most necessary of facilities: a kitchen, dormitories, a small washhouse and the like. It was probably first built as a lookout station, meant for keeping watch over the valleys around.

One side of the courtyard appeared to be where the animals were kept, with a small roof and a rail for securing horses against the wall. Saddlery and feed lay beside, but there were no animals to be seen.

‘See what you can find here,’ Orrell told them. ‘My men are searching the buildings, so wait for them to give the all-clear before you start wandering around. There’s some blood over there.’ He pointed to the stable area. ‘Perhaps you can tell me something so I know what the hell has happened here.’

The magicians went over as a group, milling about with their dark robes hung about them. It was a dull and cloudy day—deathly quiet. Samuel felt a trickle of sweat run down his brow.

Lomar squatted by the dark stain that marked the hay.

‘Is it a man’s?’ Master Glim asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Lomar shrugged, touching the stuff and smelling his fingers. ‘It’s not from a mage. It could be horse blood.’

‘What could have happened to them?’ Keller asked, looking at the others, but no one replied.

Goodfellow was looking thoughtful, as usual, peering up at the keep walls. Narrow platforms were positioned shortly below the top, so that defenders could stand and protect themselves with bow and arrow. Wooden ladders led up to them. One was broken, lying at the base of the wall in haphazard pieces.

Something caught Lomar’s eye and he stood and inspected the horse-rail. ‘Look at this.’

He touched a strip of leather that had been pulled tight around the rail. It was a rein, snapped, as if the animal had panicked and broken its tethering. They all looked to each other in puzzlement.

‘This does not seem to be a normal occurrence,’ Tailor said. ‘This whole place, I mean. Something frightful has happened here.’ Yesterday, Samuel would never have thought the man could have looked so fearful.

‘Anything?’ Captain Orrell called over.

‘No magic,’ Lomar called back. ‘But something strange.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ Orrell returned. ‘There are plenty of strange things here. There’s a few horse teeth on the ground over there, as well—freshly knocked from the gums.’

They went back over to Orrell and stood in a group with him and a few of his men.

‘Do you have any ideas?’ Master Glim asked him.

Orrell shook his head. ‘It’s still a mystery. I can only surmise that somehow, someone came in here and slaughtered everyone and everything and then dragged all their corpses away without us seeing—or else someone went to great expense to make it look that way. There’s nothing living left in this keep—no men, no horses, no pigs, no chickens—nothing. There are blood stains here and there, but not enough for the men who were supposed to be waiting here. I just don’t know who could have done this and slipped out without us seeing.’ Captain Orrell then turned to Samuel. ‘It looks like someone’s taken care of your revenge for you, Magician.’

‘I hope not,’ Samuel returned darkly. ‘I was looking forward to it.’

Samuel was somewhat surprised that the captain knew of his vendetta. Did the Royal Guard have information on everything they did?

‘What about the well?’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘Could someone have used it as a route, travelling along to another opening?’

Orrell nodded. ‘It’s possible. Someone is already fetching me some lanterns and then I’ll send a man down to take a look. It’s conceivable that assassins came up through the well—assuming it leads somewhere—and for some reason I cannot fathom, dragged all the animals and bodies out the same way.’ He eyed the size of the well. ‘With considerable difficulty.’

‘Secret passages, perhaps?’ Eric suggested.

‘I’m looking into it. Can any of you use your magic to look for passages or tunnels or the like?’

Tailor nodded. ‘We can do it.’

‘I’ll start over there,’ Keller added and they began their spells at once.

‘Samuel,’ Master Glim began. ‘Can you and Goodfellow scan the back of the keep? We’ll search inside the buildings.’

Samuel nodded. He was about to leave when a soldier came running over. It was the man called Valiant. He began whispering to Orrell.

Finally, Orrell turned to the magicians. ‘They’ve found someone—a magician.’

They hurried past various groups of Orrell’s men, each dragging out stoves and smashing at cupboards, looking for passages. They were taken to a building at the very rear of the keep and into a room that appeared to have been a study at one time. Desks, chairs and papers were strewn across the floor as if a struggle had recently taken place.

‘This is how they found it,’ Orrell mentioned.

Three of his men were waiting at the base of some stairs and Orrell led the way up. Samuel pushed in last, into a cramped area that held stores and wooden boxes. A ladder led up yet again and Orrell was already climbing it, past another couple of his men. Voices could be heard echoing in the roof space above.

Samuel entered into the small attic. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, as the only light shone through cracks in the shutters.

‘Wait downstairs,’ Orrell told one of his men, who pushed past them all and went back down the ladder.

Sitting on the ground was a chubby man, wearing magician’s robes, but he was clearly not a magician. Samuel could tell this at once for his aura was thin and dismal—as with common folk.

‘This is Master Sebastian,’ Orrell informed them. ‘He seems to be the only survivor.’

‘He is no Master,’ Samuel said at once and Master Glim gave him an urgent
hush
, look. The man, Sebastian, was looking at each of them with wild eyes.

‘He
was
a Master, Samuel,’ Lomar told. ‘He has lost his power.’

‘How is that possible?’ Eric asked in disbelief.

‘Quite easily,’ Lomar explained in hushed tones. ‘He has gone mad.’

The man, Sebastian, began to blubber into his hands, shaking his head and with tears streaming down his face.

‘Calm now, Master Sebastian,’ Master Glim told the man, squatting beside him.

Sebastian began to speak through his chattering teeth, but his words were incomprehensible.

‘He was sensible for a short time,’ Captain Orrell disclosed. ‘But now it seems he has broken down again.’

‘Did he say what happened?’ Samuel asked, hunched over in the tiny space.

Orrell shook his head. ‘Apparently not.’

Sebastian suddenly leapt to his feet, making everyone gasp and step back with surprise. He launched himself off the ground and struck his head on a roof beam, then fell back onto the floor and began squealing, clutching his injured head. Master Glim and Lomar looked to each other with concern.

Sebastian looked up at them with watery eyes. ‘You are the ones that Ash sent,’ he stated.

‘No, we’re not,’ Master Glim replied. ‘Tell us, what happened here?’

‘Oh, yes you are,’ Sebastian went on, scratching frantically at his chin with all his fingers. He then pointed sharply to each of them in turn, almost accusingly. ‘He told us you were coming. I’m sure you are the ones.’

Master Glim looked to Lomar. ‘The Council sent us,’ he explained and Sebastian burst into giggles. ‘Do you find that amusing?’

‘Yes!’ Sebastian declared through squinting eyes and laughter.

Master Glim was losing his patience and so Lomar took over the interrogation.

‘Where is Master Ash?’ he asked in a patient tone, but Sebastian only giggled all the more. ‘What are you doing up here, Master Sebastian?’ he asked.

‘Hiding,’ the mad man told them with sudden seriousness. Snot was running freely from his nose, like a two-year-old child who had not yet learnt to clean it himself. ‘Everyone else is dead now, but I’m still alive. I won’t go outside. You can’t make me.’

‘Who killed them, Sebastian? Where did they come from?’

‘Here.’

‘Then where did they go?’ Lomar asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Sebastian explained. ‘I hid while the others were all killed. If only Balten were here. He could have saved them all.’

The name sounded familiar to Samuel and he caught sight of Lomar also raising an interested brow.

‘They’re all dead?’ Captain Orrell asked. ‘Who attacked you?’

‘Ti’luk
,’ Master Sebastian responded.

Master Glim looked to Lomar and both their faces showed concern. Samuel was perplexed. Ti’luk meant
hungry
in the Old Tongue.

‘He’s not much use,’ Orrell said. ‘Bring him downstairs.’

They tried getting Sebastian to stand, but no amount of persuasion could get him to move from his corner in the attic. He wriggled from their hands and wedged himself tightly in the corner, screaming like a wild piglet. He was already covered in cuts and scratches and was only hurting himself further as he struggled against them.

‘Don’t worry,’ Orrell finally directed. ‘Leave him be. My men will drag him out whether he likes it or not.’

They waited downstairs while there was much screaming from Sebastian and much cursing from Orrell’s men. They eventually sent for a rope and dragged him out between them, tied hand and foot. Still, he thrashed wildly and the men had angry scratches and bite marks to show for their efforts. A gag had been tied around Sebastian’s mouth to stop his incessant crying and screaming.