The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (27 page)

‘I’m not surprised. He’d be a madman for sure. The whole thing sounds like rubbish.’

Samuel closed the book and pushed it aside. ‘I spent all day yesterday reading another article that dealt with the possibility of women spelling, until I finally realised it was actually about spelling, the alphabetical kind, and whoever had wasted their time translating it had not bothered to check the correct interpretation. Apparently, there was a time in the south when they were testing to see if women were actually human or animal.’

‘I sometimes wonder myself,’ Eric said with a smile.

‘Two opposing aristocrats had bet each other a generous sum as to the status of women and neither was prepared to lose. One man kept a farm, raising women with no human contact so they were devoid of language or intellect, while the other raised them with a keen wit, teaching them appreciation of poetry and music. Neither would give in for many years.’

‘So what happened?’

‘Eventually, the intelligently raised women became so enraged with the argument that they rebelled and freed the caged women and killed both the aristocrats and then they put all the men to work for
them
.’

‘So everybody gets what they deserve in the end. Is that the moral?’

‘Possibly—although it’s probably just a tale construed by wives to teach their husbands to watch their behaviour. Who knows? Where’s Goodfellow?’

‘Gone into the city to buy something,’ Eric answered vaguely. ‘I had a look for that book you mentioned—the one about the language of Ancients, but I couldn’t find it.’

‘Oh? Perhaps Master Dividian has it. I mentioned it to him and he seemed interested.’

‘Well,’ Eric said. ‘That’s all very interesting, but I want to see Janina before tonight’s lesson, so I have to hurry. I’ll see you there.’

‘Farewell,’ Samuel bade, as Eric left to see his latest girlfriend and Samuel returned to his studies.

Eric Pot was not the least impressed by interesting facts. Eric Goodfellow would prove more attentive and so Samuel set out to find him.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Passing of Many Seasons

GIGGLING GIRLS WERE darting all about, playing and dancing in such a strange and alluring way when, much to Samuel’s annoyance, someone began to shout and his dream was abruptly interrupted.

‘Quickly!’ came the shouting voice again. ‘Wake up!’

Groans and noises came from all around and then Samuel winced as the room lit up with mage-lights. He put one hand over his face and rubbed his tired eyes while he slowly worked on how to open them.

‘What’s happening?’ someone asked, calling down from the balcony.

‘Hurry and dress,’ the voice called back up from downstairs. ‘Everyone is needed at once. Come outside as quickly as you can.’

Samuel managed to struggle into his clothes and he stumbled outside with the others, where the cold wind harassed them indignantly. An Adept was waiting there, with his mage-light hovering over his head, while the apprentices from every dormitory formed a group before him.

‘Is this everyone?’ the Adept asked. ‘Good. Follow me quickly to the docks. There has been an accident and everyone has been summoned to assist however they can. Quickly, follow me.’

With that, Samuel’s interest was aroused, for he wondered what could have happened but, as they hurried out of the School of Magic and down the damp, stone streets towards the harbour, the Adept could answer none of their questions.

When they arrived shivering at the docks, with the hissing wind blowing salt into their faces, they were met by a truly curious scene. Mage-lights hung everywhere amongst crowds of hooded and robed people, all huddling in tight groups to shield themselves from the wind. The Adept led the way and began to push through them, squeezing past a final line of soldiers to the dock-front, where many black-cloaked magicians stood. Some huddled and talked, gesturing out to sea, while others bent over a sopping row of laid-out men, applying spells of scrying and healing—many of the men were already dead and lifeless, while others choked and moaned. Drawn out into the harbour, Samuel’s gaze found a great deal of magic at work and mage-lights were glowing far out amongst the dark and rolling waves.

Master Glim spied the group and came over to them at once with a worried face. ‘Help where you can,’ he told them. ‘Do whatever you are asked. The
Merry Widow
has struck the harbour shoals and many have already perished. Do what you can and be quick about it!’ At that, each apprentice darted off to offer assistance to any Adept or Masters they could find. Samuel and the two Erics began to hurry off, but Master Glim stopped them. ‘You three come with me,’ he told them. ‘There are many men still on board that ship and the cargo must be recovered if it can. The Archmage has requested that we save it at any cost. Follow me.’

Master Glim hurried out along the central pier and signalled to the other Masters waiting there. At that, they each began to enter the longboats that lay waiting, each manned by four oarsmen and held tethered by a fifth.

‘Get into a boat,’ Master Glim instructed Samuel and his friends, lifting his voice above the wind. ‘Follow us out and help where you can, but keep your distance—and be careful! The sea is treacherous tonight. I don’t want you lying at the bottom of the harbour like so many others already.’ Master Glim bore a look of worry as Samuel had never seen on the man.

‘At least it’s stopped raining,’ Eric Pot noted.

Samuel spied a waiting vessel nearby and hurried over, then gingerly climbed down into it. The sailors eyed him nervously as he struggled to sit in the rocking boat, holding on tightly to each side with his freezing hands. Without need for command, the boat was released and the sailors pushed away from the pier and began to dig their oars into the sea, following the long line of illuminated longboats that bobbed out towards the distant glow where the
Merry Widow
lay wrecked.

The bitter wind blew straight through Samuel’s cloak as he peered apprehensively out over the dark water. The black depths seemed to pull at him, as if they held some great weight that could suddenly topple him from the boat and drag him down. Samuel held on tighter and looked to his feet, where water had managed to gather and pool. He could feel his stomach rolling and turning in time with the sea. His skin was already goose-bumped and he began to shiver with cold. It irked him that, despite his abilities, he was still subject to something so trivial. He considered summoning a burning mage-light to keep him warm, but he dared not waste the energy; he had the feeling he would need every mote of his strength for whatever lay ahead.

It seemed to take forever to crawl their way out across the bay, with the sounds of the city quickly smothered by the wind. The rhythmical pounding and hissing of the sea grew louder with every stroke of the oars.

As they drew near the great black shoals, a few cabin lights could still be seen aboard the hulking form of the
Merry Widow
, where it lay jutting up on the rocks. A flotilla of tiny mage-lit vessels bobbed before it, each lending a bluish light to the scene. The wood of the labouring ship groaned and cracked under the enormous pressure as heaving waves thundered against it from the seaward side. Planks cracked and snapped, sending chunks of debris flying off and plopping into the sea. The sight was calamitous at best and Samuel’s heart now felt like a racehorse galloping in his chest.

‘Just here,’ he shouted to his men. With the booming of the waves and the howling of the wind and hissing of the sea, he was surprised the sailors could even hear him, but they dug in their oars at Samuel’s instruction, holding the boat as still as they could. They turned to look over their shoulders and eyed the catastrophic scene with dismay.

Samuel was not sure what to do at first, but when he saw a string of bright spheres start out from another longboat, he quickly copied. He filled the air with a host of lights, further illuminating the scene with ghoulish, blue radiance. Most of the other craft seemed to hold a Master, while some of the nearer vessels held Adept, and they each eyed the
Merry Widow
nervously, magic readied at their fingertips. Samuel spied Master Glim standing firmly in his vessel a little way behind them all, watching on solemnly. Eric Pot and Goodfellow were just arriving, pulling alongside in their longboats with wide eyes and open mouths, each clutching the sides of their vessels for dear life.

A popping sensation alerted Samuel that one of his spells had failed and a mage-light vanished from view. It was surprisingly difficult to keep his spheres in position. Despite the fact that they were composed of magic and had no real weight, the wind seemed to drag at them and the air was filled with spray that obscured their light. In these conditions, it was difficult just to concentrate and Samuel had to keep pushing more power into his spells to stop them from vanishing. His fears seemed to drain his power away as fast as he could summon it. He felt the familiar sensation of the two Erics’ magic as they, too, began to light the scene. Their weaves were also strained and erratic as they struggled with their magic in the storm.

‘Calm your minds!’ came a voice and Samuel turned around—almost too quickly—and the boat began rocking about. Master Glim was shouting his advice from behind, as if sensing their unsteadiness. ‘Remember your lessons! Calm your minds!’

Just then, Samuel’s skin began to prickle as all the Masters commenced casting their magic out onto the ship. Their power surrounded the vessel and began to hold it firm, steadying it upon the rocks. For a few moments, the groaning and cracking of the ship eased as they steadied the vessel in place. Their weaves then began to intensify as the Masters strengthened their spells. Samuel could feel them trying to lift the ship from the shoals, but their efforts were in vain. Too much of the craft was already underwater and the sea sucked at the craft as much as they strained to lift it.

A movement to his right caught Samuel’s eye. Two longboats had breached the breakwater and were now entering the open sea. The tiny boats bobbed wildly as they entered the enormous waves and then disappeared amongst them.

‘Who’s that?’ Samuel shouted out to Eric Pot beside him, straining above the roar of the wind and the waves.

‘I’m not sure,’ Eric called back. ‘Two Adept. Damned fools! They’re trying to help from the other side.’

‘They’ll get themselves killed!’ Goodfellow shouted, barely audible on the other side of Eric’s vessel.

Master Glim obviously thought the same thing, for Samuel spied his longboat skimming out after the first two. Samuel could feel his teacher’s spells propelling the boat while the sailors dug their oars in to aid all they could. Even from this distance, Samuel could see the grim concern on Master Glim’s face.

Samuel looked to his own crew. They were already looking back at him with dreadful anticipation. ‘Follow them,’ Samuel ordered.

The sailors swallowed hard and then bit their oars deep, sending the boat lurching forward. Samuel looked ahead with dismay, for every moment brought them closer to the heaving, dark waters of the open sea. He held tight as they entered the mouth of the shoal break and he cast a few spells that he hoped would help to steady the vessel, leaving the sailors to concentrate on propelling it. Each wave sent them higher as they passed between the rocks, giving them a taste of what would come. Each swell was greater than the last, passing beneath them like enormous, prowling leviathans. As they reached the point of the great foaming shoals, their boat was tossed about in all directions. Samuel held tight with closed eyes, desperately trying to improve his spells and somehow stabilise them. He had no experience with such magic and had no time to even think about what he was doing. Suddenly, the ocean seemed to disappear beneath them and the longboat swooned down between two massive waves. Samuel’s heart flew up into his mouth and he shouted out in terror. Water crashed down ontop of them, filling his mouth and eyes with stinging salt, but as he coughed and gagged and shook his head, the boat surged up once again and it took Samuel a moment to realise he was not drowned quite yet.

The sailors were still rowing with all their might, but their faces and knuckles were white. As the longboat crested the next rolling wave, Samuel could see the mage-lit form of the
Merry Widow
once more and a dim hope returned to him.

His spells were all now tattered, so Samuel took as deep a breath as he could manage in the salt and spray-filled wind and cast them each spell anew. The longboat shuddered and creaked and steadied in place as his spells seeped over it. As they bore down once again between the mountainous waves, Samuel’s heart skipped a beat, expecting the worst, but his magic did the trick and their vessel bobbed up again lightly on the following wave like a cork. He sighed with relief and the sailors cheered aloud. His spells were still quite difficult to hold, and so Samuel left the task of propelling the vessel to them.

‘Let’s go,’ Samuel told them and nodded towards the stranded ship. Just then, a flash of magic further out to sea caught his attention and Samuel turned his head into the wind to see. He peered into the flying salt and darkness, his vision drawn by the odd sprays of magic that shot up between wave tops. It was almost impossible to be sure, but Samuel thought he could see another tiny vessel speeding away through the waters, north towards the point. A lone shadow, cloaked in darkness, was crouching in the boat and sending it cutting through the waves with bursts of carefully timed magic. The figure was away now and Samuel had no time to think about it, instead turning his attention back to the
Merry Widow.