The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (49 page)

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel replied and sat down, defeated.

Over the next few days, Samuel kept trying to think of ways in which he could use his magic to help around the farm. Unfortunately, most of the jobs required hands-on attention and no spells he could think of could actually help.

Each morning before dawn, Samuel would be woken from his makeshift bed beside the table and he would yawn and rub his eyes before pulling on his black robes and following Simpson outside. Most of the cows would be waiting by the house and so Simpson would begin to milk them, while Samuel hurried the others down to wait their turn. If the goats were not already there, they would generally come sauntering down as soon as they heard Mrs Down calling out to them and rattling the tin buckets in which she kept the vegetable scraps.

While it was still early, Samuel and Simpson would lift the large milk-laden jars onto the rickety cart and the old donkey would begin to pull it along. Samuel would ride Jess alongside, not wishing to hinder the poor donkey any further by adding his weight to the cart.

They spent each morning crawling from house to house, on hill and in valley, selling milk or trading it for grain, vegetables and other perishables. The farmers and their wives were all surprised to see Samuel on his great horse and would stare until he was well out of sight. Simpson would say ‘new hand’ to them, if anything at all, by way of explanation.

‘You don’t get many strangers in these parts,’ the aged man explained to Samuel in his thick accent. ‘And you look a mite frightening to them with your tall horse and strange clothes.’

Samuel nodded and agreed there was need for a change.

It would be after noon before the cart creaked back to a halt beside the Down house and Samuel dropped from Jess’ saddle onto the bare earth. His legs ached from mounting and dismounting the animal all day, every day, and so he was generally glad to stagger inside and fall into a comfortable chair. After a brief respite, they’d spend the rest of the afternoon wandering about on the hill, keeping watch on the animals.

After a simple but delicious meal dished out by the ever-apologetic Mrs Down, Samuel would turn in early. He would throw out his blanket beside the table and collapse upon it, falling asleep before the old couple could even tiptoe off into their room.

Before he knew it, Samuel realised he had been with the Downs for a week. Old Simpson’s leg was well on the mend, but somehow Samuel could not bring himself to leave, for it seemed every day was a struggle for them and, despite the fact that he was run ragged from dawn until dusk, he seemed to be strangely enjoying it.

That morning, Mrs Down presented Samuel with a new shirt, vest and trousers, made in the local style. He put them straight on, and Mr and Mrs Down nodded at him with approval, declaring that he looked almost like one of the locals.

Before Simpson had finished the milking that cold morning, Samuel had Jess hitched to the cart, leaving the old donkey looking at them curiously from beside the house.

‘He’ll be glad,’ Samuel mentioned as Simpson took notice. ‘He’s looking fairly long in the tooth and I’m sure he’ll appreciate the rest.’

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing here?’ the old man asked from his milking, floppy pink teats in hand.

‘No,’ Samuel admitted. ‘But hopefully I’ll learn.’

From then on, Jess drew the cart and Samuel leapt down to deliver the milk, collecting the money for Simpson and lifting the buckets of vegetable scraps up into the back. At first he was bewildered by the strange square coins they used, but he soon caught on to their irregular monetary system. The customers were all surprised to see Samuel doing all the work, but he was happy to do it. Simpson’s leg was still hampering him somewhat, and it always took the old farmer a few wobbly efforts to climb back up onto the cart. He seemed much more at ease holding the reins and smoking his old pipe and the work was more suited to a young man.

During the afternoons, they would sit idly and watch the animals graze. It had not rained since Samuel arrived, and he could see the grass thinning by the day. In response to Samuel commenting on this, Simpson said he would herd the animals to the north side of the hill for winter, while this side would recover and grow fresh again. There were no fences on the farm, and if ever an animal did stray, a neighbour would soon have it back again, thankful for an excuse to visit and have a hot cup of tanabil leaf tea. There were buckets and troughs to mend and Samuel set himself doing all these little chores on the farm that looked as though they had been waiting decades for attention. He even built a roof to go over Jess and the donkey and began plans for expanding the house, all with Simpson’s technical assistance. He did not have much skill at such practical things, but he learned a great deal from experimenting and referring to Simpson’s wealth of experience. His magic was invaluable in helping him carry all his tools and construction materials. He could shift sand and cart wood with a gesture, doing the work of many men on his own.

During the evenings, Samuel would help Mrs Down with meals and do some sewing himself with Simpson occasionally stepping out to see that no dogs were at his stock. Meals were simple. Occasionally, Simpson could buy some meat from a neighbour and they would eat a little better. Late at night, when he had done all he could for the Downs, Samuel would find a secluded spot and practise his spells by moonlight. He remembered Soddan’s advice and spent long hours in meditation, focussing upon his inner ability. At times, he wished he had someone more experienced to learn from and discuss the ways of magic with, for there was a part of him that was uncomfortable in the company of common folk. Having spent so long in only the presence of other magicians, common people sometimes seemed very simple. Separated from the Order, however, Samuel had little to do but reflect upon himself, hoping to discover new ways to improve his thoughts and spells. He practised all the summoning stances, power words of the Old Tongue and the hand-matrices, feeling the ever-growing intensity of energy he could muster. It seemed that every day, he was just a little stronger than before.

As he sat high on the hill in the twilight, Samuel supposed it was not an unpleasant life, here on the edge of the Empire. He felt as if fate or some powerful force was always keeping him moving. As soon as he felt comfortable in one place, something would happen and he would have no choice but to gather up his things and move on to somewhere else. He always felt more comfortable in the place from whence he had just come and the new place felt awkward, until, as usual, it was time to leave, and only then did he realise
that
place was the one for him. Here, on the outskirts of the village of Lenham, he felt further from his friends and his home than he had ever been. He was beginning to think he would never be able to put his feet up and just relax. Even now, he was supposed to continue on his way to Gilgarry and meet the man, Cervantes. When Simpson had recovered and the Downs could manage their farm comfortably again, Samuel would go on his way, but he found himself hoping that day would not come too soon.

Samuel’s big problem was those ever-hungry sheep. Discouraging them was proving to be his bane. Some days whole flocks would come up and chew the ground bare before Samuel would chase them for a bit, become tired and frustrated and then scare them away with a great boom that would echo all up and down the valleys. He would then have to muster up all of Simpson’s animals before they fled too far, cursing himself for his impatience.

One fine and hot day, Samuel finally sat himself amongst the villainous sheep and decided to try and solve the problem for good. He positioned himself on the grass, facing one docile creature as it munched away and he began to concentrate upon it. Its aura was simple, yet in some ways similar to that found around men. He knew all living things were filled with energy, but he had never thought that animals would be at all like people. He wanted to find out more, and so he willed his senses further into the sheep. Surprisingly, it was quite easy and he immediately met with visions of grass. The image filled his mind, as if he was seeing out of the sheep’s own eyes. Startled, he suddenly found himself separate from the animal once again.

Intrigued, Samuel began to investigate once more. It was like being inside the sheep’s mind, and he could see a strange image of himself, warped and distorted, sitting in the sheep’s head. Ghostly feelings of hunger and fear faded in and out. It was as if he had tapped into some part of the sheep’s consciousness, or was experiencing its very thoughts.

It was an amazing discovery and one that made Samuel wonder why there had been little mention of such a possibility from his teachers. It had not seemed difficult at all. Perhaps it was a dangerous thing for a magician to do? He would use caution and experiment further. He formed the image of a savage snarling wolf and concentrated on it, pushing it in beside the feeling of hunger he could feel inside the sheep. There was a jolt as the sheep suddenly panicked and broke away, bleating and galloping down the hill. Samuel was himself shivering with fear, before he could regain control over his confused mind. His heart was racing. Vague images of tearing meat and blood-spattered wool lingered in his head. Somehow, the strange alien memories had managed to pass from the sheep to him.

His attempts at fooling the sheep with complex illusions had proved useless, but this simple vision, pressed into the animal’s mind, caused such a stir in its memories that it had scared the creature silly. Perhaps such simple creatures relied on more than their mere sight to judge the world around them. Memories of a previous attack brought back all the senses—the smell, the sight, the terrible sounds and the taste of fear. These combined to confuse the animal completely. The distinction between past and present had blurred and it ran in senseless confusion.

The other sheep lifted their heads and sniffed the air, before returning to their constant feeding. They could not sense what had so frightened their fellow and did not know what had caused its fearful bleating, so they continued on with their munching of grass. Samuel planned to quickly remedy that.

He crawled towards the next closest sheep. Upon examination, the first thing Samuel noticed was that its mind was strangely similar to the other’s. Perhaps, it was true that sheep were too stupid to vary much from each other. In this animal, he implanted different images, of fruits and grains. The sheep searched the ground, sniffing and hanging out its tongue, trying to find the delicious food, but to no avail. He tried other images, but the response was usually the same, with the sheep merely looking for the object or becoming confused before returning to its meal. Samuel again formed the image of a wolf, yet this time tried to alter the location of the beast, so that it seemed to be high up on the hilltop rather than nearby. The sheep raised its head and
baa
ed. It turned and waddled a few paces away, turning its head and
baa
ing again. The others raised their noses for only a moment while it hurried away down the hill. This had proved the most successful method yet for getting rid of the stubborn beasts, for the animal was not scared almost to death.

With the next sheep, Samuel attempted exploring its mind to see what kind of thoughts a sheep might contain, but only images of other sheep and food came to him. Investigating the others proved the same and, eventually, Samuel became bored with the creatures, for investigating one was like investigating another. One by one, he managed to harry them all away by placing the wolf image in their minds. It evoked such a strong reaction that Samuel assumed they must have encountered a wolf or two in the past, or perhaps it was some natural instinct. He could use their memories against them.

‘Getting better,’ Simpson remarked from his stone as Samuel sat down beside him. Samuel nodded. ‘We might be in for some rain tomorrow,’ Simpson mentioned, pointing his smoking pipe end far to the east. ‘Finally.’

‘No,’ Samuel stated. ‘I can’t feel any rain for a while.’

Simpson nodded, raising his eyebrows. ‘You can read the weather, too?’

‘Sometimes, but only a day or two ahead. Not much use.’

‘Might stop you from getting wet,’ Simpson noted.

‘Not really,’ Samuel corrected. ‘It’s one thing to know it’s going to rain and another to have the sense to keep out of it.’

The old man coughed and spluttered and finally spat out his pipe and laughed long and loud. ‘That be true,’ he declared. ‘That be true, lad.’

Samuel continued experimenting with the animals each day. Their minds were simple—focussing on their direct needs, such as eating and resting. The goats were slightly more complicated, often thinking of games and recalling fond memories of days past. Samuel could make the old nannies and bucks prance about by pushing the memories of youth into their minds. As soon as his influence stopped, however, they would immediately return to their more proper behaviour of standing around and doing very little.

Jess had an interesting mind and Samuel discovered she had emotions associated with different objects. She considered the
lesser
animals with disdain and this certainly included people. She housed some kinship with Samuel—that was reassuring at least—and regarded the donkey as something of a bothersome cousin. He felt a pain in the horse’s rump and, upon closer examination, Samuel felt a small lump under the surface. He scrutinised the energies of the area, and compared the patterns to its better side. He remembered reading the simple theory that by compelling the energy around the injury to take the shape of the healthy side, it would promote the animal to get better. They had been scheduled to learn more about healing, but then Dividian had taken over and battle spells has taken precedence.