The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (94 page)

Samuel opened his eyes, finding himself still standing upon the stormy tower top, with Ash still standing opposite him, the Staff of Elders poised in his hand. The entire experience within the magical folds of the ring seemed to have taken forever but, in reality, barely a heartbeat had passed. Indeed, if it had taken any longer at all Samuel may have been too late, for it was at that very moment that Ash struck out, sending a white-hot stream of power erupting from his staff.

What happened next seemed to occur so slowly, as if the time-thickening properties from within the Argum Stone had followed out after Samuel and enshrouded him. Each instant in time was enough for him to see every minute detail in every tiny thing around him.

Sparks and mage-fire flickered from all over Ash’s body, bursting from his skin, from the black holes of his eyes and from his wretched gaping mouth, as the beam slowly, slowly burned its way towards Samuel.

The Elder Staff was certainly powerful, but Ash was no magician. He was a being—no longer even a man—attempting to guide powers he could not begin to understand, while Samuel was now a perfect nexus of magic.

Magic erupted from Samuel’s outstretched hand and met Ash’s beam, throwing out squealing sparks in all directions. Ash staggered back, but Samuel stood calmly as their powers met; he now clearly understood the nature of magic—for it filled his every pore—and he knew that Ash had lost. The energy around the man was still vast and intense by normal standards, but a black greasy rim now encased it, like a rot that signalled his inevitable demise.

‘Ash,’ Samuel said. ‘You wanted to be a god, but you are only a child playing with grown-up’s things. At another time, I would tell you of all your follies, but time is short and I am beyond tired. You have done many foul things to me and to countless others, so it is time you received due punishment for all that you have done. Damn you, Ash. Damn you for bringing me to this place.’

Samuel pushed his power along the path of Ash’s beam, filling its intense, pure white with twisting streaks of gold and blue and red. Ash held his staff desperately with both hands, with terror building on his ruined face. The streaks carried up the beam until they met the Staff in Ash’s shaking grip and there was a blinding flash of magic being un-made. The Staff of Elders, ancient icon of the Order of Magicians, screeched and turned to dust and spilled out through Ash’s clutching fingers. Indescribable horror covered his face and he turned to run on wooden legs. His hands were clutched over his face and he was screaming and sobbing as he blindly ran away. Without a source of magic to sustain him, there was nothing to hold Ash’s desiccated form together. An awful howl emanated from his throat as he continued running out over the tower’s edge and toppled down into space. Dust and glowing embers trailed behind him as he tumbled towards the waiting earth below.

Samuel looked down after Ash and readied a spell to send after the man—a final blow to finish him should some miracle happen to save him but, as Ash fell, his howls became hollow and empty, fading to nothing as his body disintegrated into ashes and was blown away by the wind. At last, there was nothing left to strike the earth but a few scraps of fluttering, black cloth.

Samuel stepped back from the tower’s shattered edge. He could feel the final remnants of energy balancing out around him as the flows and weaves in the air all around settled back into near equilibrium. He looked up, for the first time feeling the cold night air, and could see the clouds already thinning above him, with tiny bolts still flashing reluctantly in their depths. The wind had dropped to a soft breeze, carrying the salty scent of the Euclidean Sea.

He looked at the small, silver ring on his finger, smooth and gleaming. With the Staff of Elders destroyed, this was now the only great relic in the world. He could feel the magic within it almost humming, waiting to be released. He had certainly not expected the Staff to be destroyed, but it seemed the power of the Argum Stone had greatly overwhelmed it. Dragging the ring from his finger and tucking it into a smouldering pocket, Samuel staggered to the large, heavy trapdoor on the tower roof, raised it and fell through.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Above the World

SAMUEL FOUND THE tower now completely deserted as he staggered down its many stairs. His body had been almost ruined, but the power he had found within the Argum Stone had supplanted it, somehow sustaining him when he should have been destroyed. Even the wound that had pierced his abdomen seemed to have healed almost completely. The power he had touched had been incredible. It was no wonder that Ash had been overcome by the force of the Elder Staff. It seemed that the moment Ash had reached into that vast source of power, it had changed him, smothered him completely. In mind and body he had no longer been a man, but something else—something horrible, something craving only more and more power. It had overwhelmed him. Ash’s lack of understanding had been his downfall, just as much as Samuel’s depth of understanding of it had been his salvation.

Samuel passed down several levels and, with each, his legs became heavier and heavier as if slowly turning to stone. He passed the Argum Stone chamber, where the doorway still smouldered, broken and twisted in place. Floor by floor he descended the mighty tower, until he heard someone coming up tentatively from below.

‘Samuel?’ came a cry and Lomar appeared, rushing up the stairs at the sight of him. ‘You’re alive!’

‘Yes,’ Samuel replied, utterly exhausted.

‘Everyone fled the tower. We thought the whole thing was going to come down.’ Lomar came to Samuel’s side and held him by the arm, supporting him.

Samuel nodded. ‘What happened with you and the others?’

‘Lord Hathen proved to be the weakest link. He tried to escape from the Magicians’ Game. His weaves collapsed and the game fell in upon him. He, Lord Irshank and the other magicians were all killed. Master Glim and Master Sanctus tried their best to limit the damage, but I’m afraid the palace is in desperate need of some reconstruction now. Half the city’s engineers are there right at this moment. The other half are trying to decide if the tower will stay up or not—so we should probably hurry along.’

Samuel nodded distantly. ‘Ah…I see.’

‘What of the Staff? And the Argum Stone?’ Lomar asked with interest.

‘Destroyed,’ Samuel said. ‘I managed to get the Argum Stone from Ash and I used it against him. In the end, they destroyed each other.’

Lomar nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then the legacy of the Ancients did, indeed, prove itself.’

Samuel nodded numbly and they started back down the winding tower stairs.

Samuel could feel the Argum Stone jiggling in his pocket, but he did not wish anyone to know about it. If anyone were to find out, the Order would certainly confiscate the relic for their own purposes. After this latest experience, he still did not trust any of them.

They made their way down the many steps, with Samuel using the shoulder of his friend for support. The feeling in his body was returning, like jagged glass thrust into his joints, and the pain would not be dulled as it slid beneath his skin.

They finally made ground level and staggered out into the palace grounds, where crowds of people had gathered by torch-light and mage-light. Samuel could see that Lomar had not been exaggerating, for there was a great hole in the side of the palace beside the High Tower and a pile of broken rubble lay sprawled out beneath it. Magicians were busy casting spells onto the tower while soldiers and engineers were propping great beams against the palace to keep the remaining walls supported. General Ruardin’s booming voice could be heard shouting out orders and instructions.

Eric was the first to throw himself onto Samuel, and Master Glim and Goodfellow were not far behind. ‘Samuel! You did it!’ he cried. He had a bloodied length of bandage around his middle and a swathe of spells around his wounds.

‘Eric, you made it,’ Samuel said. He tried to push some excitement into his voice, but he barely had the strength to make the words, let alone fill them with emotion.

‘Of course,’ Eric declared. ‘I can’t feel a thing. Isn’t it great?’

Samuel looked to Master Glim with puzzlement.

‘I know, Samuel,’ the old teacher explained. ‘He should be in bed, but he refused to rest until we found you. In a few minutes, he’ll drop like a horse when he realises how tired he is.’

‘Good,’ Samuel said, with Eric’s arms still locked around him. ‘I think he’s killing
me
now. Maybe you can speed things along a bit?’

Master Glim nodded and, with a wave of his finger, set a spell upon Eric, who immediately retracted his arms from Samuel and sighed. He staggered backwards, eyes closed, and fell gently into Master Glim’s embrace and was fast asleep. Master Glim, in turn, placed Eric tenderly onto the soft lawn.

‘He should be well once my spells have had a chance to mend him. It’s a deep wound. His own attempts to stop the bleeding were pathetic, but I do admit he was in no state to cast much of anything. I think it was actually just his sheer stubbornness that stopped him from bleeding to death altogether.’

‘We should get him to a bed,’ Samuel suggested.

‘You, there,’ Lomar called to a wide-eyed servant who was standing nearby and gawking at the scene of destruction. ‘Take him to a bed and be careful.’

‘Yes, My Lord,’ the man replied and, with the help of another couple of men, picked up the drooping form of Eric and lugged him off into the palace.

‘Don’t bump his head!’ Master Glim shouted after them. ‘And be careful with that dressing!’

‘It seems as though you need some attention, as well, Samuel,’ Goodfellow stated. ‘You look terrible!’

‘Perhaps, you’re right,’ Samuel said, feeling the weariness in his bones and the pain in his muscles. ‘I think the day is starting to catch up with me.’

‘We’ll find somewhere for you to rest, too,’ Master Glim said. ‘It’s been too long since any of us had some decent sleep.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel conceded. ‘But which way is the tower going to fall? I don’t want to be in that direction.’

Master Glim laughed and summoned over some more servants and together they helped Samuel inside. Samuel was barely aware of what was happening but, when he felt his head falling against a soft pillow and a mattress beneath his body, he knew it was time to finally let go and sleep took him firmly into its folds.

‘Samuel?’ a voice called through the deep darkness.

Samuel let his eyes flutter open, for he was still trying to decide if he was really awake or still dreaming, and at once noticed Tulan Goodwin seated on a small stool beside him, next to the bed.

‘Tulan?’ Samuel asked groggily.

‘I wanted to see you one last time before I left.’

‘Where are you going?’ Samuel asked wearily; then some realisation came back to him. ‘What…what are you doing here?’

‘I’m sorry, Samuel. I’ve been hiding in the city all this time, but now matters have finally been sorted, I must leave. The Royal Guard and half the Empire are still after me, so I must be away quickly while I have the chance.’

‘Have you really been working for the Gartens?’ Samuel asked, sitting himself up in bed and waking up a little more.

‘Yes,’ Tulan admitted. ‘I have lived almost all my life in Turia, but I am a Garten by birth. I came to Turia in my youth to explore my skills with the aid of the Order, hiding my true lineage. I soon found, however, even at that youthful age, that the Order was just as hollow and shallow as the Turian Empire itself, so I tried to keep to myself as much as I could and concentrate on my studies. Unfortunately, when government agents in my home learned I had been accepted into the Order, they began to demand favours. If I did not do everything they asked, my family would pay for my “treachery”. At first, I only needed to drop a message here, a note there, but each time they demanded more and more from me until I was deeply involved within their network of spies. Finally, they demanded that I find a way to kill the Emperor. I used my friendship with Master Kelvin and others around the Empire to gain a place on the Council and, when the opportunity arose, as you know, I took it. I’m sorry I used you. You and the Grand Master had your own plans, I know, but I could not take the chance that you would fail.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Tulan,’ Samuel said. ‘Everything has ended up for the best. You did what you had to do and the Emperor is dead. But how will you escape? I’m sure you must be the most wanted man in the Empire.’

Tulan smiled. ‘The Empress now owes me quite a favour, so she is giving me one week to disappear forever. You see, my contacts had learned of hidden rooms and dungeons in the palace many years ago. After killing the Archmage, I left my men to finish their work with the Emperor and went down to wait for them. You can imagine my surprise when I found that someone else had also found the dungeons. Dividian had set up a laboratory there to practise all his dark rituals unseen. When I heard of the Empress’ disappearance, I had to find a way back into the palace and check there for myself. Inside, Dividian had several prisoners, with the Empress and Grand Master Anthem among them. They were quite glad to be freed, as you could guess.’

‘So now everything is over, will you return to Garteny?’

‘Yes. Hopefully, I may even receive a reward for my success and my family will not be threatened any longer—or so I hope. I will find a quiet place in a quiet town and disappear as well as I can. I certainly cannot stay here or anywhere within the Empire’s reach.’