The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (90 page)

‘What are we going to do?’ Samuel asked. ‘We can’t keep this up forever. They’re pulling our spells to pieces!’

‘Don’t…worry,’ Master Glim responded with some difficulty. ‘We just need a little…more…time.’ Just then, a spell came sizzling toward them and Master Glim matched it with one of his own. ‘There!’ he cried with joy. ‘Got it!’ The two spells hung in the air, locked together.

Another spell came forward and Master Glim guessed correctly once more. His timing was impeccable and, again, he locked the spell in place. The air buzzed with another spell and this time Lomar had it.

‘Well done!’ Master Glim shouted.

More and more spells came at them and Master Glim and Lomar caught as many as they could, until a knot of spells began to form above them. Finally, Samuel realised what they were doing. It was the Magicians’ Game. Irshank, Hathen and the two unknown magicians also realised what was happening, and they desperately began trying to match Lomar and Master Glim’s counter-spells, for Samuel’s friends had the advantage to begin with. The game had begun, and each side kept frantically throwing out spells to catch the other’s. Whoever gained enough foothold in the game would have control over the combined power of all the spells above. The energy trapped therein was growing and, when either side fell too far behind, the total sum could be used upon them. All the while, they continued sending spells to check each other’s defences. It was a cunning and complicated game of wit.

Samuel saw a spell coming and shot up a counter-spell of his own. His aim was true and the two magics locked in place.

‘No, Samuel!’ Master Glim told him. ‘You can’t help! You and Eric must go after Ash.’

Samuel nodded, and stood to leave, but a spell flying forth had him ducking back down behind the seat in front of him. If he and Eric left, Master Glim and Lomar would be outclassed and outnumbered by the four master magicians below. The game would not last long.

Just then, a flurry of spells came pouring down from the doorway in volumes. It was old Master Sanctus who had joined the fray, hobbling down the carpeted steps with magic pouring from his sleeves like streams of billowing ribbons. There was a smile set on his face, like a mirthful boy, and he began trapping spells left, right and centre, throwing fake spells and trap spells all over to keep his opponents busy.

‘Hurrah!
’ Lomar yelled with glee.

‘Go now!’ Master Glim commanded. ‘We can last here!’

‘Are you sure?’ Samuel asked.

‘Go!
’

Samuel and Eric stood and raced back up the stairs. Spells flew at their heels, but Master Glim protected them as they went, catching each spell and adding it into the game. They made through the doorway and out into the abandoned hall, leaving the hiss and flashing of magic behind them.

‘Where are we going?’ Eric asked as they sprinted for the main stairway.

‘Where Ash is going,’ Samuel replied. ‘For the Argum Stone. I’m guessing he needs the Staff to finish awakening the thing. Once he does that, he could be unstoppable.’

‘But what is going on, Samuel?’ Eric asked. ‘What has been happening? Where is Rimus?’

‘I don’t know,’ Samuel replied, jumping up the first flight of stairs. ‘Probably dead.’

They made it up into the tower proper and ran down the hall to the next stairway. The place seemed completely deserted. Perhaps General Ruardin had cleared it upon Master Glim’s warning or perhaps everyone had simply run on sight of the other fleeing magicians. They went up many levels and Samuel’s legs started burning before long and he could barely keep up the pace. He found himself quickly wishing this tower had the same climbing spells set in it as the smaller Mage Tower.

Crossing another hall, they turned a corner to find three men waiting on the stairs. They had swords ready in their hands and looked ready to kill. Samuel assessed them in an instant—they were mercenaries. Samuel and Eric stopped, labouring for breath and eyeing the men warily.

‘Turn back. To come this way means your death,’ one man told them plainly and without flourish. He had a strange lilting accent that meant he was definitely not Turian. Samuel took him as the leader.

‘Let us pass!’ Samuel ordered, his chest still heaving.

The man shook his head slowly. ‘Lullander!’ he called and a plain-clothed magician scuttled down the stairs from behind him, already preparing a spell.

The leader signalled and the other two mercenaries darted forward at the same time, brandishing their weapons. Samuel immediately cast a spell and froze them in their places.

The leader swore and stepped back defensively, unsure. ‘Lullander!’ he called out again in frustration. ‘Don’t just stand there like a fool! Do something!’

At that, the magician threw down a spell. Samuel diverted it easily with a spell of his own, but in that instant, the mercenary leader had taken his opportunity, springing forwards, quick as lightning. Equal doses of surprise and pain hit Samuel as the man’s fist collided with his cheek. Eric yelled out in pain beside him and Samuel only recovered his senses in time to see the mercenary leader dance backwards, drawing his sword, slick and glistening from Eric’s belly. Eric fell onto the carpet, howling aloud and clutching at his stomach as his blood poured free.

‘Eric!’ Samuel cried, but a flash of magic caught his attention as the magician, Lullander, spelled again. It was the same spell as before—a simple binding spell that could potentially stop some vital function of the victim. Samuel had already surmised that Lullander was a pitiful excuse for a magician and he had no trouble deflecting the spell again. And this time, he threw one of his own back at the mage for good measure. Lullander managed to catch Samuel’s spell with one of his own spell shields, but it left the man looking quite shaken.

‘What are you doing, Lullander!’ the mercenary shouted to his comrade. ‘You really are a good-for-nothing!’

‘Blast!’ the magician replied. ‘He’s too strong!’

With that, Lullander began backing up the stairs and then turned and fled.

‘Damn you, coward!’ the mercenary shouted after him. He then turned and faced Samuel. ‘Well, Magician. You have bested us all. If Lullander cannot defeat you, I will not risk my neck for this kind of venture. You can pass.’ With that, he gave another flourish and a short bow.

Samuel was unsure and readied a spell to fling at the man.

‘Your friend seems mortally wounded. Perhaps you should see to him before he loses any more of his blood. Don’t waste your time on me if you want him to live.’

‘This isn’t a trick?’ Samuel asked warily.

‘No,’ the man replied and dropped his sword onto the carpeted stairs. ‘It’s only money. I don’t know what these magicians have been up to, but it’s clear they are not on the winning side. I will gladly be out of here while you go and find whatever fate awaits you upstairs. I apologise for the inconvenience.’

With that, he stepped neatly past Samuel and strode down the hall. Samuel was certainly not bothered to chase him—Ruardin’s men would catch him downstairs—and he dropped to Eric’s side.

‘It really hurts!’ Eric said, clutching at his gushing wound. His entire front was bathed in blood and Samuel guessed from the rate of it, the injury was serious.

‘Don’t worry,’ Samuel told him. ‘I’ll help you,’ and quickly cast a spell to slow the bleeding.

‘Go!’ Eric howled out. ‘You need to go after Ash.’

But Samuel was hesitant. ‘You can’t stave off the bleeding by yourself, Eric. If I leave you, you will die.’

‘No!’ Eric hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll be all right. You can’t risk wasting any power on me. If I can get myself to the others, they can save me. Don’t worry. I can manage.’

Something in Eric’s tone told Samuel he was hinting at something beyond the obvious. It took him a moment to realise what it could be. ‘You finished the Journey Spell?’

Eric gripped his arm with desperate strength. ‘I’m sorry, Samuel!’ he declared. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know. It was more trouble than it was worth.’

‘Just go, now while you still have the strength. I will stop the pain as much as I can.’ With that, Samuel did his best to lesson his friend’s discomfort.

‘That’s good,’ Eric said, opening his eyes and looking calm. ‘Now get back. You don’t want to be too close when this happens.’

Samuel did as he was told as a web of magic bloomed into being around his friend and immediately began weaving itself into an intricate design of utmost beauty and perfect symmetry. It was as if a crystal web of delicate cross-spans and concentric circles had forged itself in the air. Numerous opposite edges began knitting together, perfectly synchronised.

‘He’s doing it,’ Samuel heard himself whisper, just as the spell clicked into place and finished itself.

In that instant, Eric vanished. His magic snapped down to an infinite point at its centre and vanished along with him, following Eric to wherever he had gone. Unlike the last time, there was no terrible residue left behind. Eric had formed the spell perfectly and had simply
journeyed
away.

Barely believing what he had just witnessed, Samuel turned away and began up the stairs, past the two frozen mercenaries. He continued up stair after stair, climbing ever higher into the massive High Tower of Cintar.

Samuel could feel the magic of the Magicians’ Game still escalating below. He only hoped his friends were up to the task. With all the power he could feel in that room already, the losers would most likely not survive.

That was nothing, however, to what he could feel gathering above. Somewhere above him in the Argum Stone’s chamber, something was gathering magic in enormous volumes. Vast quantities of energy were being called into being—a massive pool of magic that already felt beyond all natural limits—and it was still growing by the moment.

Samuel hurried up the stairs past a few worried servants as they all fled down. Presumably, they had bolted themselves in their rooms, but now the tower had begun to sway, they had decided that fleeing was the better choice. Their concerned faces eyed the dust that shook loose from the ceilings and the walls as the tower shook and trembled. It did not bode well.

Panting and with burning legs, Samuel finally arrived before the door to the Argum Stone’s chamber. Magic was forming all around and gathering, bursting into existence and surging into the room. Gingerly, Samuel tested the door, but it was bolted firmly. Whatever was inside was incredibly dangerous and he was not even sure he wanted to go in.

‘You there!’ came a voice from along the hall.

It was the magician, Lullander. He began to approach down the corridor, but his steps slowed and stopped when he recognised Samuel. He turned and ran without a pause. There were only a few more floors above in the tower, so Samuel assumed the man was going to go huddle out of view and bide his time until all this was over.

Samuel promptly returned his attention to the door. There was little time left for subtleties. He summoned a fist of energy and blew the thing right in.

A blinding, white light greeted him inside and he had to subdue his sense of
sight
to almost nothing just to see into the room. Revealed within was an intense cloud of energy, convulsing and contorting above the Argum Stone, which itself was glowing white hot, cradled in a frame that held it upright. Magic came from everywhere, manifesting from the very air, and was being sucked into the churning cloud. It twisted and pulsed spasmodically, as if somehow trying to resist the forces that drew it together. There was a noise in Samuel’s head like titanic stones grinding together and he could hear his own blood surging in his ears. The experience was overpowering, almost too much to behold by his senses, yet he did not flee. Standing in the room was something—someone—who had a stronger grip on his attention, outweighing any thoughts of turning away. Standing there was a man that Samuel could not take his eyes off, for killing him had become the very reason for his existence. Ash.

Ash was standing across the room, arms-folded, next to another black-cloaked magician. It took Samuel a moment to realise that the second man was Master Dividian. He had the Staff of Elders in one hand, outstretched towards the enormous form of the Argum Stone. He was forging a Great Spell upon the ancient relic, pouring the tremendous power he had summoned with the Staff of Elders in upon it. His eyes were sealed shut and his body shook with sweaty exertion. Dividian’s lips were moving and Samuel could sense the vibrations of each word as they formed on his tongue in the Ancient Lick. Dividian continued on, heedless of Samuel’s entrance, but Ash had clearly noticed him and smiled.

‘You’re just in time, Samuel,’ Ash called out. ‘You’re about to witness something fantastic.’

Samuel stepped into the room and glared back at the man.

‘Doonan!’ Ash called out and a very small man came scuttling over from near one of the bookshelves. He was barely waist-high and Samuel had not even noticed him before, although he certainly remembered him. ‘The spell is almost ready. Go and tell Balten his prize will be ready soon.’

‘I’m supposed to stay here,’ the midget responded in a fierce and squeaky voice.

‘Do as you’re told, you vile little man!’ Ash retorted. ‘Balten will get what he wants, just go tell him to hurry up and come get it. You may have some trouble downstairs, but I trust you can get out of the palace somehow.’