The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (27 page)

Leopold was not to be defeated by the magician. He kept at it, until his knees ached and he had blisters on his hands, and he kept going after that, gritting his teeth and swearing under his breath.

After several hours, Lord Samuel was standing silently by Leopold’s side once again.

‘Well?’ Leopold asked, rubbing his chin with a sopping wet sleeve.

‘Have you had enough?’ the magician asked.

‘Oh, yes!’ Leopold said with relief, dropping his brush into the bucket with splash.

‘Then keep going,’ Samuel told him.

‘What!’

‘I said keep going. I don’t want to kill you; just scrub to the next chainplate. Then you can rest.’

Leopold looked to where he was indicating. It meant another hour at least. ‘No,’ he stated defiantly, sitting back on his heels.

‘Yes,’ said Samuel, as he loomed over Leopold.

One of them would give in, and it was inevitably the young Emperor who capitulated.

He picked his brush from the bucket of grey water, and returned it reluctantly to the deck. Scrub, scrub, scrub, he went, grumbling and cursing all the while.

****

The next few days followed without incident, while Leopold recovered from his soreness. Many crew—soldiers and sailors alike—suffered from sea sickness as the Farstride rolled between gargantuan waves; others experienced stomach cramps and a fever spread. The medics could not help, and it was only after Jessicah had pestered Samuel for the dozenth time, that the magician stormed from his quarters, and with a wave of his hand he declared them well. He stomped back to his den without another word, and without exception the afflicted improved within the hour.

Toby was often scrambling about the decks and several times a day the crew caught him halfway up a mast pole or dangling over the railing, in danger of falling into the ocean. No amount of scolding or lecturing kept his feet flat on the ground. They may have whistled into the wind, for all the good it did. He smiled and laughed, jubilant at the angry faces of those who sought to rebuke him.

Salu was often outdoors, standing in odd places—facing a wall, squatting by the crew as they went about their chores, totally inappropriate and hampering the men’s duties; he never took notice. He stood muttering, eyes clamped shut, mouth open and facing the wind, saturating himself with the sensations it brought. There was no return of the sense he had shown when defending Leopold from the witch: his mind lost in the wind and the sea.

Lord Samuel thought that the old man would be of help to them, if only he could be brought back from his madness. Leopold wanted the same; despite his desire that everything the magician did should fail, he could not wish failure in that. Salu was simple and honest. Inside his mutterings Leopold felt consolation, and sleeping in the same room, he felt safe. Salu would never lie to him and never use him. Salu would act when needed as before, self-appointed as Leopold’s protector, never judging, never critical—a true hero of legend. He might even rescue him from the clutches of Samuel …

****

A week into the great southern crossing, Leopold was returning to his cabin when, short of the doorway, he noticed the sound of conversation from inside. He edged nearer and heard the voice of the magician inside. Curious, he waited to overhear what was said.

‘Come now, you must be able to tell me more than that,’ Lord Samuel was insisting. ‘Where is all the power going if no one is claiming it?’

A voice replied to his question, too muted to hear, and Leopold wondered who he could be talking to.

‘No, no,’ said Samuel, sounding impatient. ‘You said that already. Can’t you remember anything?’ He sighed loudly, audible even to Leopold. ‘Stop hovering out there, Leopold!’ the magician then called out. ‘You’re as stealthy as a camel on a four-poster bed. Come inside.’

Leopold was not surprised that the magician sensed him easily, and strode into the room. Samuel was sitting on his bed, opposite old Salu.

‘Has he been speaking?’ Leopold asked with interest. ‘Can you get sense out of him?’

Samuel groaned. ‘Little. I’ve been at him nearly every day. Rarely am I rewarded. Mostly, he is lost behind a fog of nonsense I don’t know how his brother put up with him. He drops a revelation before me without warning, and it drives me insane finding what it means. Other times he will respond to what I asked him days before, for him a moment later. Sometimes he answers questions I haven’t yet thought to ask, somehow knowing I will.’

‘What caused his madness?’ Leopold asked, watching the doddering old fellow.

‘Oh, he is not mad,’ Samuel said. ‘He merely sees the world differently. From an early age he was gifted, but became frustrated by what we call society, and he retreated inwards. Sometimes he returns to peek out at us, but cannot understand what his senses tell him. It is like us trying to understand the ways of the ants. They run in mad circles, pointlessly, but to them their every action is reasonable. They don’t notice the giants staring down at them until we tread upon their mound.’

‘So what are you hoping to discover?’

‘Anything. Anything that could help.’

‘I thought you had every detail finely planned.’

‘Of course not,’ the magician said indignantly. We are diving into chaos and hoping for the best. If any of us live it will be a miracle. We are mortal men facing immortal demons, Leopold.’

‘The crew talk. They say you are the cause of our troubles. They feel the demons inside of you, and they worry.’

‘Pah! They feel superstitions. The darkness inside me is different from the beasts that wreak terror upon the world. The monsters that stalk man are tools; wild animals summoned for destruction. Those inside of me are the spirits of true demons, devious and evil beings that seek to use me as their weapon. They have no bodies to inhabit and are safe as such, as long as I control and contain them.’

‘We are under siege from every direction,’ Leopold noted.

‘True, and it has never been this way before. We stand on a branching of the paths, poised to break free from the ways of countless millennia. Two of the Ancient Ones have been defeated. Their king—my son—is held captive by the last, and the world is in a hiatus until the situation is resolved.’

Leopold held his tongue. The magician did not know, and he was not to let slip what Lomar had said. The Demon King was escaped and roaming free somewhere upon the world, and Lord Samuel did not know it.

Samuel was set in his thoughts and spoke them aloud without abatement. ‘The creatures that roam the world free more souls with each day, and the power remains unclaimed ... a wasted harvest. I am guessing, when Lin is released, he will consume it. That is why I hurry to find Poltamir. Surely, he is after that power for himself. I would, if I were he, and we must stop him before he finds a way. Salu has answers, but he too is harbouring a grudge against me.’

‘Why? What did you do to him? I mean, apart from dragging him with us—which I suppose is enough for anyone to form a grievance.’

‘I killed his brother,’ Samuel said.

‘Well. That would be enough to get him offside. You killed my father and look how well we get along.’

‘That was different. His brother tried to kill me. I had no choice.’

‘You seem to have few choices but you manage to do a lot.’

Samuel grunted. ‘I can see there is no talking sense into you, boy. I’ll leave you with the old goat. When Toby returns I will feel out of place amongst such intellectual titans. Three fools make good company.’

With that, he stormed from the room, leaving Leopold greatly satisfied. The magician had kept him busy working over the ship nearly every single day; any small triumph in return was worth celebrating.

When Samuel was long down the hall, Leopold laughed. ‘I never thought I’d score a victory over him. This is wondrous.’

The old man was muttering louder and Leopold snapped his attention towards him, waiting for Salu to speak; the old fool continued, but no revelation fell from his lips.

Leopold kicked off his boots and lay back and rested on his bed. His head hit his pillow and he breathed deeply, readying himself for sleep.

Words broke the silence.

‘That was no victory,’ came the voice and Leopold sat up, bewildered by a voice unexpected.

Salu was the only other present, yet he sat unmoving upon his bunk, quiet.

Could it have been him?

Leopold looked towards the doorway: soundly shut. He returned his gaze to the old man and peered closely. ‘Did you say something?’

Salu stopped his fidgeting and raised his chin, opening his eyes a tiny sliver, revealing the narrowest strip of his pale irises. ‘He does not get upset,’ he stated and Leopold leant closer with interest. ‘He acts a part, looking for a result, pretending he remembers how to be human.’ He then chortled happily. ‘And you play into his hands.’

‘Why would he bother with that?’

‘He is planting seeds ... setting a course ... tilling the soil … all such similar metaphors.’ He wafted his hand dismissively.

‘To what end?’

‘To get you to a certain point, of course.’ He then mumbled and rubbed his hands together, sucking at his lips. ‘I nearly killed your father once,’ Salu admitted, changing his tone and the topic with it.

‘What was that?’ was Leopold’s surprised response. Surely he must have misheard.

‘I tried to kill him one time ... a long time ago. I nearly succeeded.’

‘You tried to kill my father? When? When he was the Emperor?’

The old man nodded and returned his gaze to the floor, looking weary. ‘I am sorry for it. I have always been sorry for that … and other things. Sometimes, the world becomes a dream and my dreams become the world. I see no difference anymore.’

‘How can you doubt what you see? The world is real,’ Leopold stated firmly.

‘Are you sure?’ the old man asked, raising his old face in examination of the ceiling. His pale stubble had grown slightly since the start of the voyage, yet his thick, white hair had not, remaining close to his scalp.

‘Of course,’ Leopold replied.

‘Ah,’ the old man said with a sigh of acceptance. ‘Then I am glad I did not kill him.’

Leopold was not sure how to respond. ‘So am I. My mother taught me all life is precious.’

‘A lovely woman,’ Salu said, smiling broadly and nodding with his eyes shut tight, folded into his grin. ‘But she was mistaken.’

Leopold did not care for his final remark. ‘What do you mean by that? Life is precious. How could you disagree?’

‘Easily. There is nothing to agree with. She is wrong. Life is everywhere, nothing precious about it. You can’t stop it. It springs up at the slightest opportunity. It grows wild, untamed and uncontrolled like a weed.’

Leopold shook his head, perturbed. ‘While you continue to speak nonsense, tell me why you were glad you did not kill my father?’

‘It is not my right to do so,’ the old man said solemnly. ‘The world should take care of herself without my interference. Life ... death ... exist without my meddling and the balance should be maintained. I have hurt people. I hear their pain often, but I do not see them anymore. That is some solace to my tired old heart.’ He sat quietly in contemplation. ‘I’m glad I did not kill your father because otherwise you would not be here. We would not be together having this conversation. Events would have travelled a different course. Only the single, delicate path you followed led you here, to this precise moment, intersecting with mine.’

‘You call this a conversation? You have simple concepts, old man. And you confuse me. You contradict yourself by saying our lives are of value.’

‘Ah, I see your mistake,’ murmured the old man with his gentle, rasping voice. ‘Lives and life are very different things. Life is a dry and simple occurrence, without meaning on its own, scum in a pond. While lives are the result of us being here—what we do and experience. I am sorry. The difference is at first subtle, but in fact there are worlds between them. You are making the typical mistake, in that you have misled yourself into believing you are alive.’

‘Of course I am alive!’ Leopold scoffed.

His response amused the decrepit old magician. ‘The pond scum dreams of grandeur!’ He chortled at the thought.

Leopold blinked several times to be sure he was not going mad, such was his confusion. ‘I beg your pardon? I am not scum!’

‘Then you should act like it. Forget that you are sentient. It will distract you from the experience of living.’

Leopold scoffed. ‘No wonder Samuel kicks you when you’re sleeping. I can’t follow a word you are saying.’

‘That’s the problem with all of you,’ the old man said. ‘You expect to follow me when I am on a different road altogether. Make your own damned path! And how can you expect to understand what I am saying if all you are doing is listening to my words? They are just sounds you know, noises from an old man’s throat. You will never find meaning if you sit and wait for my words to strike you in the ear. Go out and dig it up yourself!’

Leopold shook his head. He wanted answers from the old man, not nonsense. ‘Why are you helping Samuel if he killed your brother?’

‘He did not kill my brother,’ Salu stated matter-of-factly.

‘Well, he certainly thinks he did.’

‘He doesn’t know everything—not yet. My brother travelled to another realm—a distant world. Samuel caused him to go I suppose, but it would take more than that to finish Janus. He probably enjoys being where he is.’

‘Why are you helping Samuel?’

‘I’m not helping anyone. I’ve always wanted to go to sea, and he supplied the means.’ He grinned innocently, his eyes becoming tinier slits. ‘I like the wind. It tells me much out here, unbridled from the sounds and scents of the land.’

‘Hmm,’ said Leopold. ‘Do you trust him?’

‘Trust is foolish. When I walk into the wall I trust myself to walk straight through it; does that ever happen? I bang my nose again and again! Silly thing, trust. It is waste, as are assumptions.’

‘Well, I don’t trust him.’

‘He doesn’t care whether you trust him or not.’

‘Do you know what he is planning?’ Leopold asked secretively.