The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (86 page)

‘Is that it?’ Samuel said with a grin as he scraped the mud from his thighs. Dark shadows had crept into the auras of all the men before him—dark and jagged and insistent. ‘A spell of Lifting? What a clumsy effort. Where is the elegance? Did you not pay attention to your studies? Why waste so much power, when the same effort invested into something smaller can be so much more effective?’

Samuel flicked his wrist and a swarm of pebbles flew up from the ground and struck the bald magician like a volley of arrows. Blood flew from the man’s surprised face as the stones passed through him and punched vital fluids out his other side. Garret and his men all cried out with surprise and fear and their horses leapt and kicked. The bald magician toppled over and splashed face down into the puddle at his feet, turning it crimson around him.

Samuel laughed again, but a sudden pain in his throat had him choking. He dropped to his knees, clutching at his neck. A spell had him caught tight and he had failed altogether to notice it forming. If he had not been so busy choking, he would have damned himself for not concentrating more closely on his opponents. With magic singing in his head and being almost delirious from fatigue, focussing his thoughts was proving quite difficult.

His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, but he sensed the other magician striding up beside him, intensifying the power of his spell to throttle the life out of him. Samuel rallied and sent his own magic to work, desperately trying to undo the man’s spell, but it was already knotted tightly around his neck.

It was useless to fight a spell that had already taken hold, so Samuel decided instead to deal with its source. He opened his eyes to find the magician standing over him, gloating, with a satisfied grin. His hands were cupped as if he was strangling Samuel himself, shaping and guiding his spell with his gestures. Samuel clenched his teeth against the pain and eyed the man sidelong. It would take more than this to keep him from reaching his power. He formed another spell of Moving, but this time, he sent his magic into the puddle around his feet. He slapped one hand down to start the spell along and a splash of water flew up at the magician with a sound like suddenly torn cloth, passing through the man from his groin to his shoulder like a red-hot knife through butter. The magician’s spell stopped at once and his mouth dropped open soundlessly. His body dropped quietly to the gravelly quarry floor.

Still coughing, Samuel regained his feet and eyed Garret and his men darkly.

‘Gods and devils!’ Garret cried out. ‘This magician is a fiend!’

He turned his horse and began away across the quarry as fast as it could carry him, kicking its sides as hard as he could. His men followed him, screaming out curses and praying for their lives.

‘It’s not so easy,’ Samuel muttered to himself, for a thirst to see all these men dead had overtaken him. ‘Fate has already handed me your deaths.’

His magic was waning now. He could feel it slipping from his grasp even as he called for more, so he pushed his fingers together into a matrix of summoning and rallied one final burst of power. The men were away towards the far end of the quarry, making for the distant opening, but Samuel gripped the earth firmly with his magic and sent a shudder of power into it. The ground heaved and stones leapt as the spell raced away, sounding great shattering cracks as massive underground stones were cleft in two. The wave of heaving earth flew out after the riders and struck them from behind, spilling the horses over and sending the riders sprawling onto their backs.

Samuel glanced up, momentarily distracted by the pattering rain and, at once, it ceased to fall. He strode closer towards the men where they lay, stepping up and over the shattered rocks and jutting slabs of stone. Each man was scrambling to crawl away on his hands and knees. Samuel clenched his fists and gathered his final blow. There was a brilliant flash of power and every stone in the quarry began rattling like coins in a beggar’s cup. The men could find no traction as the earth shook beneath them and they wallowed about in the stony puddles, desperately clawing in all directions. The ground shook faster and faster until it became like water and everything heavy began to sink into it. The screams of men and horses still sounded as the rocks began to swallow them. The men screamed and begged, trying to pull their own sinking bodies from the earth, but there was nothing to lend them purchase. One by one, as they disappeared from view, their sounds of terror ceased. When there were no more screams at all, Samuel released his spell and the ground eased its mournful rumbling. There was no trace of man or horse at all.

‘Gods, Samuel!’ came a voice from behind. ‘What have you done?’

Samuel turned around to see Master Glim standing not far behind him.

‘What kind of magic is this?’ his teacher asked.

‘Master Glim,’ Samuel responded. He released his hold on the ether and all the giddiness of his magic vanished, leaving him feeling abruptly old and spent. ‘I…I don’t know what came over me.’ With his power released, rain began to fall around them once more.

Master Glim shook his head. ‘At times, you seem capable of the most monstrous feats, Samuel. I’ve never seen such a terrible spell!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Samuel repeated. The pleasure he had felt at hearing the men’s screams was now souring in his belly, turned to guilt.

‘It doesn’t matter. We can speak of this later. The others are far ahead. We should go quickly.’

Two horses were still tied near the trees, left by Garret’s magicians and Samuel went over and took one in hand. He stood there long moments, rigid, until Master Glim asked him, ‘What’s wrong, Samuel?’

‘I can’t get up,’ Samuel responded. ‘I can’t lift my legs.’

Master Glim helped push him up onto the horse. ‘You’ve overspent yourself once more, Samuel. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that is.’

‘I had no choice. If I hadn’t, I would be dead now.’

‘The others are headed for Cintar. We must be after them quickly. Captain Garret’s company is still after us and there may be others on the road looking for us.’

Samuel nodded dumbly, for the words sounded like buzzing insects in his ears. ‘Let’s go,’ he managed to say, fumbling the words out his mouth.

Samuel and Master Glim sped along the dark highway atop their mounts through the steady rain. The old teacher’s mage-lights blazed ahead, flooding the road and roadside trees that flashed past with their bluish hue. Soon the sun would rise, bringing Rimus one day closer to getting hold of the Staff of Elders—if he had not managed to do so already. Samuel did not even dare to think about what would happen if they arrived too late.

Feeling his mount tiring beneath him, Samuel cast a little more energy into the horse. There were only a few more hills until they made the next town, Nolanhull, and there it would be the last change until they reached the capital. Samuel was exhausted, but he had no choice save to hold on and keep riding as best he could. He remembered the warning that Grand Master Anthem had given him the last time. Every time he overexerted himself, there was a greater chance that it would be fatal. Even now, he half-felt like letting himself drop from his horse onto the muddy roadside and allowing death take him in its grip. At least then he could have some rest. Every particle of his body felt spent. Foul bile kept leaping up into the back of his throat, reminding him that his body was wracked and wasted. He felt like a dried husk of a man.

He looked over to Master Glim and determination was set on the teacher’s face. Samuel could sense the man feeding power into him and he was thankful for it—it was the only thing keeping him in his saddle.

They had ridden hard since leaving the quarry, but they found no sign of Lomar and the others. Neither did they meet any more soldiers bent on stopping them. Several times, they passed regular highway patrols in the rain, but none made any attempt to hail them or slow them down. Samuel only hoped his friends had made it to Cintar similarly unmolested.

Their hooves clattered across the Northbank Bridge soon after dawn and they galloped to the front of the queue that had formed before the North Gate. A ruckus seemed to be going on and the guards were struggling to keep the crowds under control.

‘This is not good,’ Master Glim mentioned to Samuel. ‘The city folk are restless. Trouble could be afoot.’

The guards at the gate waved them through and the two magicians pushed their way into the city with due haste.

‘Where to now?’ Samuel asked.

‘We’re both exhausted and useless as we are,’ Master Glim replied. ‘I suggest we get some rest and then we try to find the others. I’m sure they have taken refuge somewhere also.’

‘Can we go to the school?’ Samuel asked.

Master Glim shook his head. ‘I don’t think we should. I don’t know what Rimus is planning, but it’s better we stay out of sight for now.’

‘That also leaves out the safehouse,’ Samuel said. ‘General Ruardin’s men will know about it now.’

Master Glim nodded. ‘We must assume that Rimus knows every place of refuge we have used so far. We’ll go to an inn,’ he decided.

‘What about
The Pride
,’ Samuel suggested and then he continued upon noticing Master Glim’s puzzlement, ‘It’s an inn—a favourite of Eric’s. I don’t know of anyone else who goes there. It’s not too far from the palace.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Master Glim said with a nod. ‘We’ll get a room and put our feet up for few hours or until we can find the others. Niether of us is in any state to do much of anything.’

They agreed and began through the jostling streets, until Master Glim began to look uneasy.

‘We’re far too conspicuous on these mounts and in these clothes,’ he said. ‘We’d better get rid of them.’

They dismounted next to a farrier’s hearth, where the blacksmith was too busy hammering on a rod of radiant steel to notice them. Instead, the apprentice came running over to meet them.

‘Watch these for a few moments, will you?’ Master Glim asked. ‘We’ll be back in a moment to speak with the smithy.’ And, with that, they walked off.

They took the quieter streets and alleys, always winding down towards the sea. As they were crossing one particular street, Samuel looked to his left and almost choked when he saw a group of soldiers marching towards them. Black cloth could be seen amongst them.

‘I’d say we’ve been noted,’ Master Glim remarked without even a turn of his head and they crossed over into the opposite narrow street. ‘Hurry.’

They quickened their pace and began to run down the paved street. As they turned another bend, Samuel could hear shouts and the sound of hurrying boots following behind.

‘We’ll head towards the southern quarter,’ Master Glim said. ‘Once we lose them, we’ll make back for the inn.’

‘This way,’ Samuel said and they squeezed into a narrow gap between two buildings. It opened onto a bare yard and Samuel and his teacher darted through, opening a weather-stained, wooden gate, loose on its squeaky hinges, and stepping out into another busy street. Samuel could feel his heart inside his chest, beating loudly and quickly. He was operating on his last bare shreds of energy.

‘I think this must be Cherry Street,’ Master Glim mentioned.

They continued on at a brisk pace, with Samuel taking the occasional glance over his shoulder to peer through the crowd, but he could see no sign of their pursuers.

‘In here!’ Samuel called as they passed a series of cloth merchants and he led the way into a tailor’s store.

‘What are we doing in here?’ Master Glim asked, eyeing the racks of clothing along the walls. The place smelled like all tailors. Moth-fluid cups sat in the corners, giving off a bitter smell that kept all the ravenous insects away from the precious fabrics.

‘Getting a disguise,’ Samuel told him. ‘It’s something I learned from Eric. We need to get out of these magician’s clothes.’

‘Good idea,’ Master Glim replied, looking nervously to the door, ‘but we may not have much time.’

The tailor emerged from the back room with a needle and length of thread still in his hands. ‘May I help you, My Lords?’ the man asked.

Samuel quickly snatched up two long tunics from beside him. ‘These will do.’

‘Ah,’ the tailor remarked. ‘Very fashionable. Perhaps you would like something similar with a sturdy black dye suitable for the Order?’

‘No, thank you,’ Samuel replied. ‘We’ll take these.’

Samuel pushed by the man and went behind a tall divider. Master Glim followed closely. They both stripped to their undergarments and began to pull the tunics over their heads.

‘If I may be of assistance?’ the tailor inquired and came over, helping them both adjust their new clothes and tie the drawstrings at their waists. ‘The fitting is
really
not appropriate,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Perhaps if you give me some time I can adjust them accordingly.’

‘No need,’ Master Glim insisted and he pressed a handful of coins into the tailor’s palms. The man could only bow deeply and smile.

Samuel’s outfit was a pale blue, while Master Glim’s was a grassy green. They both looked rather strange and Samuel felt half-naked, as he had not worn clothes that revealed his legs since he was a small boy.

‘I hope you enjoy your new clothes,’ the tailor expressed with a grand smile.