The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (76 page)

‘Who are they?’ Samuel asked the brown-skinned magician in a soft voice.

‘It’s the Emperor and his latest wife—Empress Lillith,’ Lomar responded.

‘How many wives does he have?’ Eric asked.

‘About thirty, I think,’ the wiry magician replied, ‘and forty-seven daughters.’

Samuel was flabbergasted. ‘But the man looks barely in his forties!’

‘He is ninety-seven years old,’ Lomar revealed. ‘The power of the Staff of Elders is beyond anything we magicians can begin to imagine. It cannot, however, grant him the son he has always wanted. According to Master Celios, only Empress Lillith can do that, so the other wives have all been relegated to a distant second place behind her.’

The five Lions were there, waiting at the front of the Adept along with a few other old magicians.

‘Anthem’s old friends seem to have also been informed of our treachery,’ Samuel whispered.

‘So it seems,’ was Lomar’s reply. ‘Thankfully for us, they are still free and still seem to be on good terms with the Emperor. I am assuming, of course, that they are not involved in turning us in.’

After a few moments of talking with the councillors, the Emperor stepped to the front of the assembly and began to address them all.

‘Well,’ the Emperor spoke as he began his address. His voice was as youthful as his looks and sounded deep and confident. ‘It looks like everyone is here, so we can finally begin. Today is a wonderful day.’ And he looked at the gathering of soldiers and magicians and smiled sincerely. ‘How it warms me to have such a bountiful empire. My Royal Guard—dedicated to protecting me and my city.’ He looked to the Archmage and the gathering of councillors. ‘My faithful magicians—forever aiding my people with their spells and wonderful magical feats.’ He then pointed to Samuel and the gathering of old men with a frown. ‘And these traitorous vermin.’ The old men whispered nervously to each other at this as the Emperor began to stroll back and forth before them. ‘I see we have finally found the venerable Grand Master Anthem, at last revealing his true colours. I would never have thought you would resort to organising such an ill-fated effort to rebel against me. I was hoping you would do slightly better than this sorry effort. How you have fallen in your old age. When you were younger, you could kill men like you were plucking the heads off daisies. You killed five men for every one my Lions could defeat. Nobody could kill his own countrymen like the great Janus Anthem. How sad you look now, huddled amongst your quivering brothers-in-treachery. How the mighty have fallen.’

He then began pacing along the stairs. ‘The Order of Magicians has been such a mixed blessing to me over the years. On the one hand, you have been such a boon, granting my people health and improving my Empire in so many ways, but on the other, you have become ever so tiresome with your constant accursed nagging and bickering and pulling of my ear. This latest escapade of yours has helped me to make up my mind that the Order has deviated too far from its original purpose. Even my beloved Lions have proved to be traitors.’ At that, the five Grand Masters standing at the front of the gathering turned to face their Emperor with surprise on their faces. ‘Only a select few will be chosen to remain. The Order has been something of a failed attempt, but I will start again with a new generation of fresh-thinking and enthusiastic young men. For all of you gathered here, you shall immediately be executed.’ At that, the crowd of gathered magicians began to murmur and jostle nervously. ‘General,’ the Emperor instructed as he turned and began back up the stairs, ‘you may begin.’

General Ruardin nodded and a captain standing beside him drew his sword and raised it high. At that, all the Royal Guards slid their weapons from their sheaths as one and turned inwards to face the cluster of magicians pinned between their ranks. The Archmage and the councillors were the only magicians present that were to be spared and they made sure to keep their distance from the others, safely on the stairs. Tulan stood beside the Archmage with his arms folded. His expression was unreadable. The aged magician beside him leaned upon the Staff of Elders, with a thin smile of expectation on his lips.

‘Ah,’ Eric stammered nervously. ‘I hope this is where we do have some kind of plan.’

Magic began to be summoned all around as the horrified magicians began marshalling their defences, but another spell, surging forth from the Staff of Elders, rippled through the air, wasting their efforts completely. Even the five Lions, with soldiers bearing down on them with long spears, could do nothing to summon their power, and looked to each other with worried expressions. Samuel, too, could feel the Staff of Elders smothering his efforts to draw from the ether. Its power was absolute against them, especially as it had been brought to task before any of them could prepare against it.

‘You may continue, General,’ Archmage Ordi croaked, and the general again nodded to his captain.

As the captain swung his sword down ceremoniously, the Royal Guard began pushing inwards, stabbing and slashing at the magicians nearest to their blades. Panicked magicians began pushing in towards each other, falling and crushing against each other to escape the encroaching danger. The Lions had been herded down the few remaining steps with the others, and were regarding the spears before them anxiously. Magicians screamed and fell in scores as the soldiers worked at hacking them down.

‘For Garteny!’ someone called out above the din and Samuel turned his head just in time to see Tulan dragging a dagger across the Archmage’s neck. Tulan’s blade was wrought with silver-hewn spells that turned the Archmage’s own defences to scraps of screeching, wasted magic. Scarlet fluid spat from the old man’s ruined throat, in stark contrast to the brilliant silver and blue hues of the spells writhing wildly around him. General Ruardin stepped forward. His blade came out in a flash and would have had Tulan’s head cut clean off, but Tulan snapped a spell in place—somehow prepared against the Archmage’s nullifying field— and the general’s sword flew up uncontrollably, almost out of his hands. Blood continued to gush from the Archmage’s slit throat. The old man coughed and clutched at the wound with wild disbelief in his eyes as he toppled forward onto his face upon the stairs. The Staff of Elders abruptly ceased its spell and the oppressive force that had kept the magicians from their magic vanished.

‘For the Order!’ came another cry, and magic began flying out of the old magicians in every direction at once. Soldiers, who moments before had been slashing and hacking with wild abandon, began to fly aside like rag dolls. Seeing this and realising that all was now not going to plan, the Emperor began hurrying up the stairs with his wife and bodyguards in tow.

‘Take care of this, General!’ he commanded over his shoulder, dragging the alarmed figure of Empress Lillith by the hand. ‘Finish it quickly!’

The councillors had scattered away from the fallen body of Archmage Ordi and they were all scurrying up the stairs after the Emperor. In their hurry to save their own skins, not one of them had thought to pick up the Staff of Elders from where it lay, beside the body of the Archmage, covered in blood upon the palace steps.

‘Kill them! Kill the cursed magicians!’ came a cry from the Royal Guard. A group of bowmen darted up along the stairs and readied themselves to launch their missiles into the crowd of black-cloaks.

‘Run!’ Eric cried out.

Some of the old men had sense enough to defend themselves with spells, but others had either no time or no such spells, and were hit by deadly missiles or hacked down by nearby swords. A group of nearby soldiers flew into the air with cries of fear as Grand Master Anthem waved them away with a gesture and spell.

‘Go now! Break through!’ Anthem called out.

Samuel and his group fled out through the opening the old Grand Master had made and a tide of old magicians followed behind them, like black sand spilling from a cracked vase.

‘What is Tulan doing?’ Eric shouted beside Samuel. ‘First he damns us; then he helps us!’

‘It’s his plan!’ Samuel called back, ‘He’s given us a chance! The Archmage is dead and the Emperor is on the run.’

The two of them stepped away from the pack of magicians with a cluster of soldiers hacking at their tails. Samuel could see General Ruardin and his men cutting at the five Lions, but the wily magicians could not be felled so easily and were matching them, spell for stroke. If they could just be given a chance to gather themselves, the five old Grand Masters could begin blasting away at the soldiers in earnest.

‘We must get to the Emperor before more troops arrive!’ Grand Master Anthem hissed to Samuel. ‘Now is our chance to kill him!’

‘How?’ Samuel asked, spying the Emperor and his group already nearing the top of the palace stairs.

Despite the assistance of their spells, the magicians were sorely outnumbered and were falling under sword strokes, being peppered by arrows or skewered by spears by the dozen. Armoured and cloaked legs hurried all around as the conflict fell into bedlam in every direction. Spells blistered through the air and bodies from both factions lay everywhere.

A horn sounded from the great palace gates, which began to swing open, letting even more soldiers into the palace grounds. A magician appeared beside them, dropping deftly from the top of the great wall and throwing a spell onto the opening gates. The great structures began to close again as if by their own accord, while the guards all struggled in vain against them. The gates boomed back together and held firm, leaving just a handful of men inside the grounds, pulling fruitlessly to open the gates once again. Samuel could not recognise the magician from this distance, but he could recognise the spell—it was Master Glim. The man began sprinting about as if he were twenty years younger, throwing spells left and right as he darted between spear and sword alike.

Samuel quickly looked about to see if his friends were safe. Eric was a short distance away. Two swords hung in the air beside him and defended him from a duo of armoured guards, spinning and cutting through the air as if possessed. He looked worried, but not nearly as worried as the two soldiers, for they regarded the magical swords with terror, barely able to defend themselves.

Grand Master Anthem was deftly avoiding a flurry of spear thrusts; then, turning over his shoulder, he dropped the soldiers around him one by one with his knotty spells. As soon as one fell, however, another filled his place and more soldiers were rushing in from all around. Anthem was a master of magic, but he was old and even he had his limits. Just when Samuel thought the old man was about to be overcome, a surge of magic burst out from him and the ground thundered violently. The men all around the old Grand Master dropped to their backs and lay still as if dead. Anthem stood at the centre of the scene, surveying the litter of bodies around him.

A number of guards had observed this and with one riotous battle cry, they charged in around Anthem, their weapons raised. The old man disappeared amongst them with grim defiance set on his face.

‘Go, Samuel!’ he bellowed from beneath the men. ‘Get to the Emperor! Do what you must!’

Samuel momentarily feared the worst for the old man, but the Grand Master’s furious curses could be heard above the shouts and cries and tumult of weapons that issued around him, so Samuel knew the old magician was not done for quite yet.

A shrill woman’s cry drew his attention and Samuel looked to the palace stairs once more. The Emperor was now hurrying back down towards them. His bodyguards were gone and a score of plain-clothed men were bounding down after him with swords held high. The Emperor stopped and turned about, drawing his sword and decapitating the nearest man in one spinning movement. The others slashed at him, but the Emperor was bound in such spells that their blades found his flesh as hard as iron.

Darting through the melee, Samuel made his way to the foot of the stairs. He heard a great crack and a quick glance over his shoulder showed the palace gates open once more, and a horde of armed men was pouring through, all shouting as one as they charged in to join the fray. General Ruardin and his closest men had bounded up the stairs to help their Emperor, leaving the five Lions free to begin throwing their spells out towards the incoming soldiers. They each threw spells like a child throws stones at an ants’ nest, with each clot of magic exploding amongst the soldiers and dropping them by the dozen. From somewhere else, a Great Spell bloomed and a mountain of earth drew itself upwards from the palace grounds, forming into a giant monstrosity of rock and soil that began swatting at soldiers with its great fists. It was a mighty spell, but Samuel had not a moment spare to even begin considering it.

He leapt up stairs by threes and reached a small pile of black-cloaked and armoured bodies. He dropped to his knees and began pulling them aside until he found what he sought. Slick and warm with blood, the Staff of Elders seemed to be humming, almost as if waiting for him. He grasped its haft and stood tall, looking up towards the magic-encased Emperor with determination.

The relic in his hand felt ready. It had been waiting and now, someone worthy had found it. Such power ever begged for release—to be rid of the confines of its imprisonment and be vented into the world. Such power could be hard to resist for any magician, but Samuel had no intention of even trying.

He opened himself to the ether, but something unexpected caused his mind to reel. The power in the Staff leapt into him, surging up his arm and into his chest, filling his body and burning its way into his core. He could not have foreseen such a feeling and, once summoned, he had no way to stop the power from filling him. The sky above swam drunkenly and the great marble walls of the palace twisted and turned in place. The death cries and battle cries behind him sounded like long, slow moans. His heart made a crashing sound as it boomed within his chest, sending a surge of blood along his arteries and veins. Looking at his fingers, he could see the tiny capillaries bulging inside them. Smoke came hissing from the wood beneath his skin. Samuel looked up at the Emperor intensely, feeling the power of the Staff of Elders erupting inside him.