Never in memorable history had so many miserable and disparaged faces filled the venerable Order chambers. The room was filled with the new Lords of the Order,appointed since the affair with Master Ash had destroyed most of the room and many of the old Lords in it. Samuel now knew most of them personally and, for a short time after the episode with Ash, he had enjoyed being a Lord, riding high on the initial wave of excitement after his great deed.
Despite that initial burst of interest, he had not enjoyed his time on the Council, for they spent endless hours deliberating the most trivial of points, seeming to speak much and achieve little. Samuel had requested that someone more experienced take his place, but old Grand Master Anthem would not have it. The calculating old magician wanted Samuel there, watching and listening, ready to voice his concerns if the stubborn Turians on the Council got up to any mischief. While Samuel was in favourwith Anthem,he was an invaluable tool- and Samuel knew he was being used as such-but given he had little choicein the matter,he had longsincegrown indifferent. Anthem always meant well, even if hismethodswere sometimes as devious and convoluted as the Turians themselves.
Gallivan, Tudor and Anthem himself were also present. They were now the last of the fabled Lions of Cintar and,while they did not occupy seats on the Council (and declared they did not want to), their presence alone reflected the grim nature ofCintar’scurrent predicament.
Lomar, the dark-skinned magician from the Kabush marshlands and Samuel’s long-time friend, was seated, also looking far more grim than usual. Lomar had led the Order in those early days after their numbers had been decimated, but now Jacobs held the mantle of High Lord. In direct contrast to the normally light-hearted Lomar, Jacobs was a humourless and pragmatic man. He and Samuel had had their differences in the past, and the man was as stubborn and frustrating an Imperial as there could be, but he had done well since taking up the seat, considering the circumstances, and Samuel could easily think of worse choices.
Rubrick, Quimbus, Sandringham, Nottingsworth and Kalbak were the remaining Lords in the room. Normally, they numbered twelve, but the war had taken its toll and they could not even find time to elect more to their numbers from the dwindling stock of magicians in the city. These days, thankful of an extra opinion, they would allow anyone who was available into the discussions. Lastly, there was Master Celios, the great Seer of Cintar. His hair had grown thinner in recent times, now just a thin veil of reddish scrap fringing a bald scalp. He still made dismal efforts to cover his glistening pate by folding over the little dangling hair that still remained, but the effect was even less flattering than before. Adding to that, he seemed to have grown excited and irritable, with his eyes darting around the room as if tracking acrobatic horseflies.
‘Our situation is looking grim,’ Grand Master Anthem admitted, burying his face momentarily into his cupped hands, before resurfacing to scan the magicians around him with weary eyes. As always, his wispy white eyebrows hung down low, but the pure blue eyes that looked out from under them had never looked so troubled.
The Magicians’ Council sat assembled around the chamber, while pageboys and servants stood behind in the shadows, prepared to fetch food and drink, or run any errand that could spontaneously arise.
They had been deliberating the situation for hours now, and with little resolve. They had all hastily gathered the very moment that the three magicians had abandoned their little boat at the city docks and had come hurrying up to the palace, lifting up their ragged robe hems and ascending the many palace steps as fast as they could-and they had been locked in discussion ever since. It had been a long and arduous trip to the city and Samuel had been hoping for at least a good night’s rest before launching into any deliberation, but rest would have to wait. They had been granted the luxury of a basin to wash their faces and a change of robes and, for the time being, that would have to suffice.
Despite all the grim news, it had been an uplifting moment when Samuel saw Grand Master Anthem and Gallivan come striding into the chambers with haggard but determined faces. The two had obviously survived the battle at Rampeny unharmed and had even managed to flee overland and arrive back several days before them.
Old Tudor had revealed the details of their journey to the gathering, but it seemed much had been happening even in the few days since Anthem had returned and there was now little to report that was not already known. As soon as the palace officials had learned of the desert people’s invasion, Cintar had become a flurry of vexation and consternation. While the generals and officials of the palace worried and debated, the city folk had caught wind of the situation and chaos in the streets had ensued. The Royal Guard was kept busymovingthe people along,and the Empress gave daily announcements in an effort to calm their fears.
Since then, reports had been coming in almost hourly of other battles across outer territories-each of themculminating incolossal lossesfor the Turians. The invaders were summarily destroying what remained of the Empire and were working their way towards inner Turia and the capital day by day. At the rate they were progressing, and with the sorry state of the remaining Imperial forces, there seemed to be little that could be done to halt their march towards Cintar. At the very least, it seemed the outermost lands would need to be abandoned in favour of an intensified defence.
The Gartens seemed to have withdrawn back into the north out of concern for their own safety, but,with the chaos of the last week,it was difficult to confirm anything with complete confidence.
‘We must meet with the Empress immediately,’ Grand Master Tudor proclaimed in his tired old voice. ‘We need a coordinated and immediate response to this new threat.’
‘We’ve been in nothing elsebutmeetings,with the Empress and everyone!’ Lord Sandringham responded, slapping the table with both hands. ‘We need to actnowand stop these desert barbarians in one swift movement!’
‘Wouldthat we could, Lord Sandringham,’ Gallivan told the eagle-nosed magician, ‘but these invaders seem to be far from barbarians. Their attacks are expertly planned and precisely executed. They are far more numerous than we can hope to match. They seem to be well organised in the art of war and have obviously been amongst us for some time, gathering information and intelligence. I’m sure they have agents in the city even now; probably in the palace, also. They seem to have the greater advantage in every way.’
‘General Ruardin sent his best men into the streets yesterday,’ High Lord Jacobs stated, patting his short, square-cut hair into place, despite it already looking solidly plastered to his head, ‘gathering up anyone with dark skin or sand on his boots. They will not have spies amongst us for long.’
‘These are enemies that should not be underestimated in any way,’ Gallivan continued, ‘for they have managed to defeat three Lions in the space of one battle; each of us targeted according to our skills. They had sneaked a small, but powerful, ballista into place at the front of the battle and had assembled it-at great cost to their men-all with the purpose offellingme. My fondness for Leaping was evidently known and when the opportunity arose, they launched a great bolt skywards towards me, trailing a rope soaked in extract of Eldinswurt,so as to resist my spells. Itstruckme expertly and brought me to ground amongst them, nearly costing me my life. It was onlydue toluck that I escaped. It shows advanced preparation and a specific desire to remove each of us. Poor Grand Master Orien was asphyxiated with poisons that burned through his defensive vines-they knew his affinity for plants. Grand Master Jurien was stabbed by an assassin’s blade; the mancrept up close to him in disguise,bearing an exact replica ofJurian’s staff. How the firstonewas lost we shall perhaps never know, but it may even have been part of their designs. Grand Master Du perished in the mouth of one of their accursedbeasts-great lizards!Sadly,he was not physically capable of defending himself from such an agilecreature. And how they came to breed such monstrosities, I cannot guess.’
‘But where did they come from? How could we be taken by such surprise?’ Lord Kalbak, olive of skin, asked the room in his gruff voice. ‘Are we so blind to the state of the world?’
Anthem answered. ‘It’s true we have paid little attention to the Paatin wastes beyond the Eastern Reaches, but before this we have never had the need.’ He took a great breath and sighed. ‘From all indications, we thought those lands to be barren, inhabited onlybythe odd nomadic family or primitive settlement. It seems we’ve been proven unquestionably wrong. It seems that somewhere in the midst of those lands there lies a developed civilisation that we have overlooked entirely until now,a civilisationcapable of raising grand armies.’
‘TheEast has been examined on occasion, but was deemed unremarkable and unworthy of the Empire’s attention,’ Grand Master Gallivan said, setting his long,black moustache to waver. ‘The Emperor sent regular scouting parties in the old days, but they all came back with the same news: nothing to see except sand, wind and stone that went on for as far as they could bear. Many were lost attempting to breach those lands, and so the Paatin wastes were deemed unfit for human habitation.’
‘Perhaps these black-skinned barbarians are not human!’ Lord Quimbus piped up, but scathing looks from the gathering had him shutting up just as quickly.
‘I have also visited the fringes of the desert,’ Tudor announced. ‘Likewise Lord Lomar.’ At this, the magician from Kabush nodded in confirmation. ‘We have seen nothing to suggest any of this is possible. Yet, somehow, from within those parched lands have come armies of men.’
‘With the Emperor scouting every far corner for riches and taking it unto his own, I’m not surprised any inhabitants of the deserts thought best to keep their distance,’ Lord Quimbus said with disdain, but his comments caused the Turian stalwarts in the room-Jacobs and Nottingsworth in particular-to frown with distaste.
‘Well, we can’t be rushing to action hastily,’ old Tudor said, ‘but neither can we be sitting on our hands in deliberation. I’m assuming you’ve already spoken with the Empress at length.’
‘We have,’ Anthem responded, ‘but so far with little result. Unfortunately, the Empress isinexperienced in these matters and her advisers have clouded her in a fog of nonsense and bureaucracy. We may need to throw our fists down and bar them from the room while we speak some sense to her. Those simpletons refuse to accept the fact that if there is to be any hope of saving the Empire-in any form at all-we must sacrifice some of the outer territories and consolidate our defences within Turia. Lives will be lost, but the Empire simply cannot afford to spread itself thin. TheOutlands will simply need to fend for themselves.’
‘But that’s abominable!’ Master Quimbus rallied. ‘The invaders are butcheringeveryoneindiscriminately. We cannot abandon anyone. It goes against the very conscience of the Order.’
‘Actually, I believe theveryopposite to be true,’ Anthem said with a measured tongue. ‘It’s evident that any town that yields is spared, so we should send wordto towns in the Outlands todo exactly that. Any settlements that have resisted the desert people’s call to surrender have been wiped from the earth-every man, woman and child slain without exception. The buildings are pillaged and then burnt, all the crops laidtowaste and salted at great expense. They are sending a clear and potent message ahead of them.’
‘It matters little what we do,’ Master Celios called out. All eyes turned to him, for he had been quiet until now, barely seeming to take note of the conversation. Strangely, he seemed to be clenching his fists tight, so that his arms were quivering with the effort.
‘Have you something to add to this, Master Celios? A vision, perhaps?’ Jacobs called out to the balding, bulging-eyed man.
Celios snatched up his goblet and waved it to the servant waiting behind him. It was immediately topped up with water, leaving the attendant to step back into the shadows. Drinking deeply and noisily before smacking his lips, Celios’ actions were clumsy. ‘These armies are not what should be bothering us. We panic like fools at everything that catches our eye, yet we ignore the greater foe that comes to meet us.’
The council room was quiet while each magician summed up the seer’s words. Some looked sidelong to each other and it seemed obvious that most were puzzled.
Jacobs looked down his nose with concern. ‘Please explain, Master Celios.’
Celios lurched to his feet and pointed a shaking finger directly at the High Lord. ‘These wars have been foretold again and again by seers greater and lesser than me. The world is overcome by madness and we shall struggle with each other until we are brought to our knees. This Age is done and the Devil King is returned. He sends this wave of violence before him, to ready us for his taking. It is only a matter of time before he shows himself and claims us for his own.’
With that,he dropped back into his seat, but then seemed unsure of his surroundings. Celios looked around himself with bewilderment, drained of strength. He knocked his cup and water spilled across the table, yet he did not notice at all,as his sleeves began to soak up the spill. The attendant standing behind him nipped forward again and began soaking up the water with a square of cloth, lifting the man’s arms from the mess and cleaning around him,like a father tidying up around a careless child.
‘Master Celios indeed needs his rest and I’m sorry for his outburst,’ Jacobs explained. ‘I’ve had him awake the last few nights applying his skills to our situation and the responsibilities of a seer weigh heavy. He has gained no real insight into the Paatin Desert people, but he has grown increasingly disturbed in the process, which does not bode particularly well for us. I still hope he can gain some information on our new adversaries that will be of useto us, but for now I think the poor man needs some decent rest.’
But Samuel took the chance to speak up. After the ravings of Celios, his words would not seem so outrageous. ‘I have also heard something of these demons. Is there no chance that these warnings should also be considered?’
‘Of course not. No,’ Jacobs stated resolutely. ‘This is the stuff of nonsense and fairy tales. We have problems of flesh and blood to face, not fantasies, Lord Samuel.’
‘But demons and creatures do seem to exist. We defeated one at Hammenton, and even our own Grand Master Anthem has mastered the Great Spell of Summoning. Is it notconceivablethat some truth may lay in these rumours?’
‘Utterly not,’ Anthem said, raising his voice. ‘While it may be possible to summon beasts that seem hellish to us, the notion of demons is inconceivable. I think that if you are listening to sources that purvey such bunk, Lord Samuel, you would do well to turn away your ear. As High Lord Jacobs affirms, we have no time to entertain nonsense when lives are at stake.’
Samuel nodded and accepted the clear direction that he should remain quiet on the matter.
‘If there is little else to learn here, let us rest,’ High Lord Jacobs then announced. ‘We will meet with the Empress this evening. I’m sure our recent arrivals also need rest after their arduous journey.’
With that, most of the men dispersed slowly from the room, leaving the last of the Lions scratching their headsandindeepdiscussion. Lomar walked with Samuel along the halls, as Goodfellow rushed ahead to organise a room for them.
‘I hear you had a harrowing escape, Samuel,’ the brown-skinned magician stated. His face was marked with deep wrinkles of kindness, and they only seemed to be deepening with age,while the rest of his skin around the creases remained smooth. It gave him a mixed appearance of wizened age and mirthful youth.
‘True, but at least we did escape.’
‘And no word of Eric?’
‘I was going to ask you the same thing,’ Samuel said, ‘although I have the feeling he will be back when it suits him.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m almost certain I felt him use his Journey spell. As such, he is probably skulking around the city somewhere, waiting for an opportune time to show himself.’
‘I thought he was having trouble with that spell,’ Lomar suggested.
‘So he made out but,in reality,he guarded it like a jealous child. If he does return, I’m going to speak to the Grand Masters about him. Such a spell could make a great difference to the war.’
‘True, but you should take your concerns to High Lord Jacobs first. He is leader of the Council. That is the correct point to voice your concerns.’
‘I understand, but you know me, Lomar. I’ve never been one to follow such formalities.’
Lomar smiled warm-heartedly. ‘So I’ve come to realise-but you would do better to keep the Council onside where possible. Few of usOutlanders are fond of formalities, but the Turians cannot live withoutthem. In any case, no one can make Eric give up his spell unless he wishes. I think I understand why he is hesitant to give up the knowledge of such a magic. Firstly, everyone likes to feel special-even magicianslike us. He has great ability, but the frustrations of youth still cling to him. Perhaps he will not feel so protective of his skills after another year or two, as he continues to mature. Secondly, once he does release that knowledge, it will undoubtedly make its way into the hands of every capable magician in Amandia, Turiaand beyond. No matter how hard we triedto keep such a secret, it could never be kept for long. There are very few Great Spells like this left unfound and,although not many magicians would be capable of casting it, its effect would be tremendous. Life would beinfinitelymore treacherous if magicians or even entire armies could appear anywhere they wanted. Eric may be acting selfishly but,in truth, it is probably for the best.’
Samuel nodded reluctantly. ‘You are probably correct.’
‘I usually am,’ Lomar added.
‘Then we have that in common, too,’ Samuel added and Lomar smiled in return. ‘But one more thing. It has been some time since I last spoke with anyone from the Circle, but their members seem adamant that demons do exist and that the return of their kind is a reality. Could it really be true?’
‘I am sceptical of such things, Samuel, but we are magicians after all and must we consider all possibilities, no matter how far-fetched.’
‘So you believe it?’
‘I’m not ruling it out. However,’ Lomar continued, ‘it looks like the Paatin armies will be here long before any demons come to harry us, so there is little point debating the fact. We must prioritise our threats; therefore,I must agree with Grand Master Anthem on this. Let’s put the notion aside and focus on greater things for now.’
Samuel considered the point thoughtfully. ‘And you have been into the desert? Do you know anything of the Paatin people?’
‘Sadly, very little. I have skirted their lands, for the Kabushy delta lies to the south of those dry wastes. My people never felt the desire to explore north, for there was little point,and Kabushy do not like to leave their wetlands but once I began my studies as a magician,I ventured there on occasion to quench my curiosity. I explored the very edges of their lands and learned some of their tongue, but I never saw anything that would have led me to believe they were capable of such armies. As Grand Master Tudor stated, they are a quiet and noble people,solitary and nomadic.’
‘Then the desert seems to have some great secrets hidden in its heart.’
‘Well said and true,’ Lomar said. ‘But come, you must get some rest and I have much to do. I am sure we will discover much more about the Paatin in the coming days.’
With that, the two parted and Samuel set about finding what had become of Goodfellow and his room.
The two of them retired for the rest for the day to a small room in the heights of the Mage Tower,overlooking the vast city that sprawled and cluttered below them. Goodfellow was already awake and looking out the window when Samuel opened his eyes.
‘There’s someone at the door,’ he said, still looking up at the ceiling.
‘Oh?’ Goodfellow responded, turning from the window and blinking the room back to clarity behind his spectacles.
Samuel sat up and swung his legs to the floor. ‘Come in, Eric!’ he called.
The handle turned and Eric Pot walked in sheepishly. ‘I see you both made it back safely.’ He shut the door behind him and leaned upon it hesitantly, waiting for them to respond.
‘We’ve been waiting for you to turn up,’ Samuel stated.
Eric was obviously trying to think of an excuse, but then simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘What else could I do? I didn’t have time to take you with me.’
‘You used your Journey spell to return to Cintar?’ Goodfellow asked. Samuel thought that his bespectacled friend was going to reprimand the other Eric, but Goodfellow only continued on with excitement. ‘Astounding! That’s a long way. I didn’t realise you had such control.’
‘Yes. I arrived right in the middle of The Pride-which did surprise some of the patrons,’ Eric replied. ‘I didn’t even mean to use it at all. When I started to panic,I cast it without even knowing. I guess I was thinking how nice it would be to be back in my favourite old inn-and it happened.’
‘We could have done with your help, Eric,’ Samuel stated flatly. ‘You could have made all the difference.’
‘The battle was already lost, Samuel,’ Eric said in his defence. ‘I didn’t intend to leave and,once I had, I wasn’t about to risk going back. Anything could have happened.’
‘I guess we’ll never know.’
‘It doesn’t matter now, Samuel,’ Goodfellow interceded. ‘What’s done is done. I’m just glad Eric is here and we know he’s safe and well.’
‘Does the Council know you’re here?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.
‘Now they do. At first, I had to lay low, but once you two and Grand Master Tudor returned,I told them I’d also just arrived. They seemed too busy to care all that much.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘You still don’t want them to know about your spell?’
‘Of course not,’ Eric said. ‘As if I don’t have enough trouble without restarting all that prophecy nonsense! If the Journey spell is needed, I will use it, but until then it will only cause trouble.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘As you wish, Eric. Keep your secret. While others die,I hope you will be happy with yourself. The Emperor is dead and the prophecy was realised-remember? There’s no need to continue this secrecy. In all those days you were in hiding,it didn’t cross your mind thatyou could have at least told someone about the Paatin invaders? Defences could have been readied and lives saved. How many towns fell before Anthem returned and gave the warning?’
Eric pulled open the door andstartedto leave, visibly annoyed. ‘I would have if I could, Samuel. It seemed the right thing to do. You should be the one to talk about secrets.’ And with that he stoutly shut the door behind him.
Samuel could sense as Eric descended the tower, the man’s familiar aura growing dim and intermingling with the other energies and life forces within the palace, finally becoming imperceptible. He only hoped Eric was referring to the secrets of the past-his ability to see magic and his invisibility to other magicians-rather than his dependence on the Argum Stone. He shuddered at the thought of anyone learning of his dependence on the ring or,even more, of anyone ordering him to surrender the ancient relic to the Order. It would leave him utterly defenceless and useless as a magician. He would have no reason to even exist.
‘Don’t be so hard on him, Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, pulling his black robes over his head and adjusting them into place over his shirt and trousers. ‘Everyone does something stupid occasionally. It’s just lucky we all made it back.’
‘We made it back. Others were not so lucky.’
‘Come on, Samuel. Don’t be so hard on him. You make mistakes, too. Remember?’
To that, Samuel only scowled and lay back down on his bed.
The two magicians were summoned again the next morning and they traced their route through the many floors and halls of the vast Imperial palace. In previous years, the chambers they passed had been filled with musicians and artists, dancers and artisans,as well as thewives and children of the palace staff and officials-but now most rooms were cold and empty. The war had taken its toll even here and the seat of the Empire had become something of a hollowed shell. The Emperor’s thirty-two wives-all prior to his last marriage with Empress Lillith-and forty-seven daughters were seldom seen, banished away within their rooms for their own safety.
Empress Lillith was seated at the head of the table, resplendent in her blue and gold royal gown, which was tight-fitting about her bust and waist, but surrounded her legs with voluminous skirts. A small boy, the young heir to the Empire, name of Leopold, was standing quietly in the corner holding a small stuffed lion, with the Empress’ attendants all fussing around him. He was dressedin his smart yet snug outfit, so that it looked almost impossible for him to bend down or play. Still, he looked happy enough just standing with histoyand posturing it about.
General Ruardin was seated beside the Empress, looking like a golden-armoured giant upon a minuscule chair-even though his seat was the same size as everyone else’s. Grand Master Anthem was the only magician there, for it seemed a meeting of the decision makers and bureaucrats of the Empire. With two vacant seats beside him, Anthem gestured for Samuel and Goodfellow to approach.
‘Sit, sit,’ the old magician urged the two young men. They did so hastily, for the room seemed to be waiting for them,all eyes following them to their seats. ‘Many of you know of Lord Samuel and this is Master Goodfellow. The two of them were witness to the events around Rampeny. Samuel, Eric-we have asked you to comebecausethe assembly would like to ask you directly about the events. Please answer quickly and succinctly, as there is much to discuss and we have little time.’
The man closest to the Empress, opposite General Ruardin, began. He had large lips and eyelids and somewhat reddened cheeks, giving him something of a foolish appearance but, as he was seated so near to the Empress, Samuel decided thathewas not going to judge the man solely on such looks. He had heard many stories of the cunning and manipulative ways of some of the court officials and it would be a mistake to judge any of them on first appearances. ‘What do you two make of the battle at Rampeny? Tell us from the start what happened.’
Samuel looked to Goodfellow for reassurance and then began to relate his story. ‘We were helping prepare Rampeny’s defences when the Gartens attacked-the initial assault was not so bad, but after a few days the Gartens received reinforcements and Captain Adell’s troops were exhausted. He was about to retreat when the three of us-Master Pot, Master Goodfellow and myself-set out to delay the Gartens as well as we could. We were achieving moderate success, when thankfully General Canard came to our aid, along with the Lions. We were doing well at that point, until a second force came at us from the south.’
‘Do you know how they came to be there?’ the man asked, jotting some notes on the pages before him, but Samuel could only shake his head.
‘No. At first, we thought it was General Warren’s men, for they came disguised in Imperial colours. It was only when they attacked that we knew there was something wrong.’
‘We still don’t know what happened to General Warrenand his men, Chancellor Donovan,’ Anthem explained to the gathering. ‘I can only assume they were overcome by these new forces just after we separated.’
‘Perhaps so,’ Chancellor Donovan remarked, ‘but this is not the time for speculation, Grand Master Anthem. We are here to gather what facts we can and make our judgements later, based on such evidence.’
‘As you say, Chancellor. Samuel, please continue.’
Samuel swallowed and wet his lips, feeling the attention of the room bearing down on him. Looking at the men around him,he saw thatnone of them showed the slightest hint of empathy or support. In fact, they each seemed to be casting the look of judgement upon him. ‘Needless to say, we were pinned between the Gartens and the newcomers. In the end, when it became apparent that we could not win, Grand Master Tudor helped us to escape, while Grand Masters Anthem and Gallivan remained behind to battle.’
‘In your opinion, if you had stayed, could you have helped to decide the battle?’ asked another man,who had a tiny sliver of a black moustache sitting under his nose. Samuel had heard him referred to as Councillor Madhaven.
‘Not at all. If we had stayed, I believe the outcome would have been the same, except that we would have died, too. We were tremendously outnumbered. When we climbed to the top of the valley, we could see that the new army had,in fact,two forces. One attacked from the south and the other from the north, driving the Gartens towards us so we were forced to battle on both sides.’
‘And do you know the origin of these forces?’ a third man asked excitedly. ‘Do you know who they were?’
‘Grand Master Tudor believed them to be desert people. Indeed,they had dark skin and looked like some of the merchants I have seen in the markets. I think his judgement was fair.’
‘Do you know what they want or why they attacked us? Did they send any statements or demands?’ Donovan asked.
Again, Samuel could only shake his head. ‘Not at all. I don’t think anyone knows.’
There was quiet in the room while Chancellor Donovan scratched his chin in deep thought. ‘Very well,’ he said finally, with a closing tone.
At this, Anthem waved his finger at the pair of magicians and gestured towards the door. ‘Wait outside,’ he whispered to them.
Samuel and Goodfellow did as they were told without hesitation,keen to be from the room. They waited idly in the hall, until the door opened and the men all filed out with their papers and bundles cradled under their arms. Anthem poked his head out last and drew the two magicians back inside, where only the Empress and her attendants remained. Young Leopold now slept, held in the arms of one of the seated ladies. His head had fallen back and his mouth was wide open towards the ceiling as he snorted in his sleep. He looked like a chickthat hadfallen asleep midway through begging for its dinner.
‘I wanted to speak with you two alone,’ the Empress said. Her face was calm and graceful. She was truly a regal beauty, which was even more remarkable considering her humble rural origins. ‘My advisers tell me so many wild and wonderful things. I never know what to believe.’
But old Grand Master Anthem was not one to mince his words. ‘Those infernal imbeciles plan to send a delegation to meet the Paatin and warn them off. They refuse to accept that their precious Empire could be overwhelmed by desert savages. They probably think we must all be making up this story to cover our incompetence, as if we had somehow lost a few armies on the wayside. Or perhaps they think we sat down with the Paatin and had a fine afternoon tea! It boggles the mind! Forgive my scepticism, Your Majesty, but these cretins can’t see past their own Turian vanity.’
‘It seems remarkable that they could doubt us, Grand Master,’ said Goodfellow. ‘I didn’t think that anyone could doubt what we saw.’
‘Inconvenient facts are easily dismissed, Master Goodfellow.’
‘I must agree-in part at least,’ the Empress said. ‘Even General Ruardin, bless his golden heart, is blinded by his Imperial pride and is easily goaded by the others. What do you think is happening, Grand Master Anthem? Tell me what you believe these invaders are intending.’
‘It seems obvious the Paatin are taking advantage of our warring with the Gartens, but their final objective remains to be seen. Their motivecould be anything from religious zeal to cultural intolerance, or simple plunder. Whatever the case, it seems sure they are set on taking Cintar, for reports indicate they have plotted a course directly towards us. We know nothing about them and we can’t even begin to guess their motivebut,from what I can see, they do pose a great threat.
‘Even so, the Empire is in danger of falling long before even one bow is drawn before the city. These bureaucrats need to stop their filibustering and start making plans. They seem more intent on keeping you from making your own decisions than saving their own empire. I find myself longing for the days of the Emperor,although I never thought I would hear myself say such a thing, if you forgive me for saying so, Your Highness. He would have cut off twenty heads the moment he caught wind of such sedition and put an end to it at once. Still, he may have cut off many good heads in the process, so I can’t say those old days were truly all too grand.
‘There is no doubt that they are trying to usurp your power, Your Majesty,and it makes my blood boil. At a time like this, when every delay costs hundreds of lives, it is unforgivable. Do you know, I have heard them casting doubt on the lineage of your son? I bet my old whiskers they plan to intervene before he can become of age. I had the feeling something like this would happen, so I had several mages scry the boy to prove he is the true heir. Do you know what they did then? They began to undermine me and the Order as well! Calling me a Garten upstart! Damn the fools!’
Empress Lillith gasped at this. ‘This is despicable! Why haven’t I heard such things before?’
‘I have been busy at the front, Your Majesty, and that has kept my attention, but I see now that things have begun to get out of control. We need to rein back this madness before it goes any further.’
‘I will speak with them immediately,’ she said.
‘We may need to do more than that,’ Anthem said. ‘They will placate you with the most sincere of apologies, but they will only continue their plans behind your back until your rule is symbolic at best. They could even resort to violence. I would not put it past any of them to arrange the murder of a mother and her son. I only hope they have more sense than that. The people of Turia haveinstilledtheirlovein your boy.’ He mulled over the thought solemnly. ‘No, far better that they keep you, remove your power and manipulate you for their own gains. Once young Leopold is of age, they will not need you at all, for they will have ensured that his education wastailored to fit their schemes. He would be nothing more than a puppet.’
The Empress considered his words carefully. ‘I don’t want to offend you, but Chancellor Donovan did tell me to expect the Order to attempt to strengthen its position in the palace. I have long trusted you, Grand Master, but all this is quite shocking and confusing.’
Old Anthem only smiled at this. ‘I’m sure he has told you much, but that only proves to reinforce my feeling that Donovan is a conniving wretch. The Order has no interest in running an Empire. That is far too much trouble for us. We much prefer our books and quiet places. I must admit we have had our own fair share of politicking in the past, but I will allow no more of that. I think the Magicians’ Council has learned its lesson in that regard.’
‘Then we shall see about this,’ Lillith stated defiantly. ‘I am not about to see the Empire falling to such upstarts. With Ruardin spellbound by their verbal trickery, I don’t know who else I can depend upon. Will you support me,Grand Master Anthem? Since Lord Samuel made his great display of saving the city, the Order is in favour like never before. The people will rally behind you.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ old Anthem declared with a bow. ‘This battle will be fought on many fronts. Perhaps the greatest will be here within the walls of the palace and this is a battle that I will not lose. The Empire and I have had our differences in the past, but I refuse to see it fall into the hands of scoundrels like Donovan and Madhaven. I will begin by subtly letting them know their place and,if that does not work, we can look at taking more drastic measures. In the meantime, we will need to shore up our defences against the Paatin. Recall our forces from the territories-as many as we can possibly afford.’
‘So be it,’ Lillith responded.
With that, the meeting ended and the Empress and her entourage departed, with one of the maids carefully cradling the sleeping boy in her arms, so as not to wake him. Samuel believed what the wily old Grand Master had said, for he had a glint in his eye and his hackles were up; a sure sign he meant business. He would not be surprised if Anthem simply turned the royal advisers to ashes just to teach them a lesson.
It was only as they were striding away from the room that the Grand Master surprised them both by chuckling to himself.
‘Did you see how that works? Now, we have the Empress in the palm of our hand.’
‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked of the old magician.
‘It is a simple matter to plant some suggestions and let others believe they had come to their own conclusion. In one swift move, we have the Empress onside. If it’s a war they want, it’s a war they’ll get and no pompous Turian can match this old Lion. When I begin to show my claws, those fools in their counting houseswill turn to jelly.’
‘I must admit I was surprised by what you said about the Council, Grand Master,’ said Goodfellow. ‘I can’t imagine some of them giving up their old ways. They are awfully fond of their meetings and deliberations and so forth. They never seem to do anythingexcepttalk about having more power over the Empire.’
‘How true, young Master Goodfellow. The nature of these Turians cannot be changed, but the Empress is a useful ally. We will need her if we are to put Donovan and the likes back in their places. This could be a dangerous situation for the Order. And what a woeful time for it! Now, if we can get that old bull Ruardin onside we will have nothing to worry about. The last thing we want at a time like this is more trouble for the Order. And if we are going to win this war and repel the Paatin, we cannot afford such shenanigans. Once things return to calm, we will be the only ones advising the Empress and the balance of power will rest with us.’
Samuel was about to object, but thought betterof itand kept his mouth shut. It seemed a strange turn of eventsatsuch a calamitous time.
The royal advisers had locked themselves indoors for an evening of deliberation, to which the Order-much to Anthem’s chagrin-wasnot invited. Samuel decided to visit Master Glim and set outthroughthe palace gates as dusk was just falling across the city.
He made his way across the bustling streets and pushed through the din of the markets, following the zigzagging routes he had learned over his many years in the city. He half-expected that the city would have become as quiet as the palace, perhaps beset by fear of the impending invasion, but it seemed not. It still thrummed with life and was as vibrant as ever. The only notable absence was that of all the dark-skinned desert traders, but it seemed others had quickly taken advantage of the situation and set up their own stalls in place.
Magical lanterns were set about the School of Magic, hanging from the doorways and along the curving stone paths, creating little pools of clarity in the dim. As Samuel neared, each one was supposed to grow brighter and then fade away again after he had passed, but the lanterns sat idly. The spells tied to each could not detect him. At times, his innate lack ofpresencecould be as much of a curse as a boon and so he trod the paths in darkness.
He came to Master Glim’s little cottage and rapped on the door.
‘Come in, Samuel,’ the voice of Master Glim beckoned from inside.
‘Remarkable! How did you know it was me?’ Samuel asked, stepping into the room. His old teacher was studying at his desk, as expected, with his eyeglasses dipping from the end of his nose.
‘Rather, I can presume it’s you, young Lord Samuel, when knocks sound on my door and no one seems to be there to make them. It’s not such a great leap of reason, is it?’
Samuel shut the door and came to sit opposite the aging teacher. ‘It’s good to see you, Master Glim.’
‘I can return the sentiment.’ He set his notes down and pushed his emptied dinner plate to one side. He seemed frailer than Samuel remembered and a sliver of shadow lingered in his features, where the light should have prevailed. ‘When Anthem returned and brought news of what had happened, I certainly feared the worst. However, I could not believe that you would be killed so easily. Surely, it would take more than an army to defeat you, Samuel. You are the Saviour of Cintar, after all.’
Samuel screwed up his face in feigned distaste while Master Glim chuckled softly to himself.
‘It seems we find ourselves deeper and deeperinhot water, Samuel,’ the teacher mused. ‘While we thought we were striding into a newAge ofReason, it seems we have only stumbled into a renewed time of anarchy. If the Empire crumbles, the people of Amandia will suffer even more thanthey didunder the Emperor’s totalitarian rule and, with the way things are going, the Order just does not seem strong enough to prevent it.’
‘So it seems. But I never thought you were fond of the Empire, Master Glim.’
‘Of course not. You know I have never cared for the Empire, but it had just reached the stage where itcouldstart to become something unifying and benevolent-’ then he threw up his hands, ‘and now all this.’
‘How go things in the School?’
‘Bah! We may as well give up now. I have a handful of students and barely the teachers to teach them. This war has taken its toll on us all. It will take us years to recover-decades.’
‘I’m sure we can get through this difficult time eventually. One day, I’m sure the Order will become the bastion of reason that we have long sought. It may just take longer than expected. We have been through much worse in recent times.’
‘I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Samuel, but I have started to feel a weariness in my bones. I am really quite tired and find myself just wishing to shut the gates of the school and keep the woes of the world outside, if only I could. Actually, while I think of it, Master Pot came seeking my advice today on a similar theme. It seems you two are at odds at the moment.’
‘It’s true.’
‘And you can’t see your way to giving him some respite? This has been a difficult time for him, also.’
‘Not as difficult as ours,’ Samuel stated. ‘While it took us a week to make our way back to Cintar on foot, he saw himself back here in a jiffy. I’m not surprised he didn’t mention it. We were rushing back in a panic to spread the news of the Paatin invasion and he was sitting in a local tavern with his feet up the whole time. It is an abuse of power, if you ask me.’
‘So he can use his Great Spell,after all,’ Glim said with interest. It seemed to attract the curiosity of magicians at any hint of its mention.
‘Whenever he chooses, so it seems.’
‘Then that is interesting. He chose wisely to conceal the fact.’
Samuel was surprised by this. ‘Do you mean you agree with him?’
‘Not wholly, no, but it is fortunate in many ways that he has concealed the spell for so long. Such a Great Spell has many connotations. I need to think about this.’ Master Glim looked quite concerned by the revelation. ‘Have you had your dinner yet?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Then go fetch yourself something from the larder before your stomach devours the rest of you. I’m sure we have at least a few more hours before the Paatin come shouting at our gates. Get some decent sleep in one of the vacant cottages and we can discuss this more in the morning, unless of course you’d rather get back to the palace? You look as if you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in some time.’
‘Even when I do sleep, my dreams keep me awake most of the night.’
‘Oh? Then we have that to talk about as well. Go on now.’
Samuel acceded and left Master Glim’s room. As he left, he heard music begin behind him as his old teacher began strumming his lute-like instrument. He had seen the man play it often, but had never bothered to ask of its origin, for it was the only one of its kind he had ever seen. The noise that came from it was lilting and harmonious, with each note melding into the others. Glim had asked his students to take the time to master any instrument of their choice, for he told them that such practice would benefit their studies but,between his troubles and his various adventures, Samuel had just never found the time.
Old Master Sanctus was fossicking merrily in the larder and had himself a platter of grapes balanced in one hand and was fiercely protecting a long,crusty loaf in the other.
‘Young Samuel!’ he declared with a crackled voice. ‘I thought you were long dead, my boy. You always seem to be proving me wrong, lad and-at least sometimes-pleasantly so.’
‘Thank you, Master Sanctus,’ Samuel replied as politely as he could, for he was not sure whether he had just received a compliment or an insult.
‘Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth hung open like a blowfish in a bucket. Get some food into you.’
Samuel needed no further prompting and took a wide,ceramic plate from the shelving and began looking for whatever couldtempt his palate. Despite the grim situation the Empire now found itself in, the Order’s shelves remained as excessively stocked as ever.
Master Sanctus finished gathering what he needed and tottered off into the night with his armful of food, chewing ravenously on a length of sausage. Samuel took his time loading his plate, savouring the thought of his dinner, tossing the occasional morsel into his mouth as he gleaned the room of whatever caught his fancy. Once prepared, he started back out into the night with his hefty load in one hand, setting towards the rooms.
He was only halfway along the path and back towards the cottages when something scratching in the darkness caught his ear. He paused, peering into the blackness to where he perceived that something sat: a patch of darkness itself on the grass. It was only hissightthat alerted him to the fact that it was a magician lying on the grass and another moment to recognise the familiar aura of the man.
‘Master Sanctus!’ Samuel gasped and dropped to his knees beside the quivering old man, spilling his plate upon the grass. He turned the stricken magician face up and the light caught Master Sanctus’ deathly pale face. He seemed to be caught midway through a silent scream, and blood and vomit covered his lips and chin. ‘Master Sanctus!’ Samuel called again, shaking the old man firmly, but Sanctus was as stiff as a board, as if already locked in rigor mortis.
Gathering his wits, Samuel began fumbling for his ring, intent on throwing a spell onto the old magician. He only hoped to hold onto some vestige of his life force, but it was already too late. Something had eaten away at Sanctus’ insides and all his vital organs were ruptured and riddled with holes. A great black wave of shadow, an ill omen to Samuel’s magicalsight, was already creeping across the old man’s life force and devouring it in calamitous gulps. With one final shudder,the magician coughed out a spray of black fluid and fell dead. A long,wet,rattling sound came trundling from his throat as his final breath clawed its way free. He remained stiff and staring at the stars above him, as if caught in awe at their splendour.
The stink coming from the old man was vile and Samuel felt his own dinner rush up into his mouth. He vomited on the grass several times, until nothing further would come out. Even then,he had to fight back the sensation to retch once more. Wiping the spittle from his lips, he could see the same dark fluid in his own vomit. It could only have come from something he had eaten. With a terrible realisation, he looked at the food that lay scattered around Master Sanctus and beside his own plate.
‘Poison,’ he whispered and the sense finally reached him to shout his warning aloud. ‘There’s poison in the larder! Poison!’ he called out. ‘Don’t eat anything!’ He called the warning several times into the dark school grounds, but no one came running to help him or to see what the matter was.
Finally gathering his wits, Samuel made for Master Glim’s room as fast as he could. He hammered his fist onto the door with what felt like futile strength, and then went in without waiting for a reply for he could already feel that something was dreadfully wrong inside. As he burst into the room, the magical lanterns set onto the walls blazed into life as if trying to burn away the stubborn shadows altogether. These spells had been tied to the opening of his door, or Samuel would have been left in the darkness, but the scene they illuminated was terrible.
Master Glim was splayed out on the floor, barely alive. He was looking towards Samuel, with the same ugly black fluid smeared across his face. He had set a flurry of spells about himself to keep the poison at bay, but already Samuel could see that the man’s energy was waning. His organs were full of perforations and his magic was the only thing holding his insides together. Still the poison was continuing to gnaw at his innards and such spells were barely able to slow the progress.
‘Master Glim!’ Samuel called, sitting beside his teacher and lifting the man’s head gently onto his lap. ‘What can I do?’
Glim’s eyes rolled up to look at him and he coughed up more of the fluid before Samuel could wipe it away. ‘Nothing…Samuel,’ he managed to say. ‘It seems I’ve been poisoned and it seems very effective…designed especially for magicians, I would wager. I think I am going to die.’
‘Master Sanctus is already dead.’
Master Glim raised his arm and clutched at Samuel’s collar. ‘You must go warn the others before anyone else eats from the larder. The source of the poison will be there. Throw the food to the floor.’
At once, Samuel realised the old teacher was correct, but he could not bring himself to leave his dying friend.
‘I will save you first, Master Glim.’
Master Glim began to shake his head, but Samuel ignored his pleas to leave. Instead, he drew the Argum Stone from his pocket and plunged his finger into it without a pause. His being flooded with unimaginable power and it took some moments before he could gather his wits and focus his thoughts once more upon the dying man on his lap.
‘What’s this?’ Master Glim managed to ask, for even in his dying state his magician’s curiosity had the better of him.
‘This is the Argum Stone. It was not destroyed, as I said, but changed into this ring. It is very powerful. With it, I am sure I can save you.’
‘While I would be grateful, Samuel,’ Master Glim said,hisspittle flying into the air, ‘and I would normally be intrigued by such a find, I must warn you against using such magic. You, most of all, should know that. Remember what it did to Ash. Too much power is dangerous for any man to bear. You especially, Samuel, should be careful with the power you wield.’ He took a moment to gather some strength. ‘I have seen you at your worst and I remember the bloodlust on your face when you killed Captain Garret and his men. There is something terrible at your core, Samuel, and you should do all you can to starve it, rather than feed such a thing. Power is corrupting and this kind of power will only see you headed down the same path as Ash. It would be terrible for you to become like that which you most despise, Samuel. The world does not need another such devil.’
‘I don’t care, Master Glim. I will save you.’
Master Glim then did something quite strange. His body seemed to relax, as if he had given up fighting the poison inside of him, and he managed a contented smile. ‘Sometimes we must accept things the way they are, Samuel. I am not proud of everything I have done, but I have had a good life and I think that, in small ways, I have made this world a better place. What else can we ask for? Go. Save the others. I am done.’ And with that he released his spells and the poison within him began to tear his vessels apart with sudden vigour. His heart fluttered furiously to keep the blood in his veins, but it was as futile as bailing water from a boat with a net.
‘No, Master Glim!’ Samuel cried out and he opened himself further to the ring.
Its power shook him like an earth tremor and he struggled to maintain his resolve. He knew he only had scant moments before his teacher died and he had to act quickly, but he did not know where to start. He called for a tiny fragment of power to mend the veins in Master Glim’s arm, but the sudden surge of energy that came to him snapped the teacher’s bones in two, twisting Master Glim’s arm half-around in its socket. The man did not seem to notice, but Samuel was shocked. He could not control the power, and the influence of the ring only multiplied his fear, making it even harder to calm his mind.
‘I don’t know what to do, Master Glim,’ he wept. ‘I don’t know how to save you.’
‘Then don’t, Samuel,’ his teacher croaked. It was incredible the man still had the power to speak, but a magician’s ability to control his own body was honed over their whole lives. Even in the embrace of death, Master Glim had enough grip on himself to make that final statement. Then, with an audible pop, his heart burst open within his chest and he died.
‘I will not let you go!’ Samuel hissed out. He delved his senses into the ring and called forth its power yet again. Master Glim’s life force was already dissipating into the room, but Samuel sent out his magic in a surge that made the cottage jump. He grasped his teacher’s energy with pure willpower, driven by the magic of the ring on his finger and commanded that it return into the man. All his focus and all the power from the Argum Stone was directed on somehow grasping those fleeing remnants. Master Glim’s last tatters of energy hesitated as he called to them, but they would not return to his body. They paused enticingly at the touch of his magic but,after a moment,they continued wafting away and fading, like escaping embers from a windswept fire.
‘No!’ Samuel screamed in desperate rage and called for even more power from the Argum Stone, beyond all consideration for his own well-being. The tiny cottage began shivering and rattling and all the books and other items began to fall from their shelves. The room was flooded with intense magic that rang in his ears but,no matter how much power Samuelappliedto the task, he could find no way to grip the old man’s dying energy. He stood to his feet, heedless of the body he let slip to the floor and looked up to the dancing lights that swirled towards the ceiling.
He clenched his fists by his sides and screamed in his head, ordering the ring to help him, but it was a lifeless object and no voice answered him. Master Glim’s scraps of life slipped through his magical fingers and would not be held.
Finally, Samuel had no choice but to give up, for the pain of channelling the ring was now unbearable and his efforts were useless. He fell back to his knees and wept upon his teacher’s lifeless chest. He sobbed for Master Glim and he sobbed for his own misery for,with the power of the Argum Stone subsided, he was filled with anguish and bitter loneliness. His muscles felt raw and ripped and he felt fit to collapse from exhaustion.
‘Why couldn’t I save you?’ Samuel whispered. ‘Even with all this power, can I not save even one person who is important to me?’
Just then, he felt a jolt in his chest and a momentary surge of excitement overcame him, breaking his pain and sorrow. Some strange energy had entered his body, revitalising him, and he looked around for its source. He looked up and found that a tiny thread of his magic still remained and it was circled up towards the ceiling like a curled asp. It had caught a few tiny motes of Master Glim’s essence and was drawing them down, not back to the body of Master Glim as he had intended, but into himself. As the embers spiralled down and were drawn within him, they joined his own power and were absorbed into it,filling the bitter gaps. The energy was saturated with the scent of Master Glim and Samuel felt warm in that moment, as if caught in an instant of reassurance from his old teacher.
Onceevery moteof Master Glim’s energy hadfled orbeenabsorbed intoSamuel, the roomnow seemedcold and empty. Samuel pulled the ring from his finger. Strangely, just absorbing those tiny bits of power had relieved most of his weariness.
‘I’m sorry, Master Glim,’ he said softly to the room.
Somehow, he could not help but feel excited, despite the death of his teacher and friend. The vast power of the Argum Stone had proved useless, but he had made a remarkable discovery. It was the spell he had longed for, more than any other-even more than Eric’s Journey spell. He had discovered the beginnings of a Sapping spell. Only Grand Master Anthem knew such magic, and its very existence was the old man’s most guarded secret. It enabled the wily old magician to beat the greatest of foes, including his own Lions. He had refused to teach Samuel, but now Samuel had stumbled upon the spell without the man’s help-even if he was far from mastering it. It would only take some more practice, and then perhaps he could give the old Grand Master an unexpected surprise.
Outside, calls of alarm began to sound. Others, perhaps returning to the school late or roused by the death throes of their neighbours, had stumbled upon the bodies of other poisoned magicians. Samuel went outside and joined them,going door to door in frantic search of any who still lived and required healing. In room after room,they met the same scene and the dormitories were like a scene from a nightmare: filled with contorted bodies. The poison had done its work, and the School of Magic had been decimated. It had been swift and deadly, even in small quantities, laced with a touch of Eldinswurt to reduce the magicians’chance of resisting it. Samuel only wondered why, with all that he had eaten himselfas he was piling his plate high, was he the only one to survive.
‘We have obviously not routed out the entirety of the foreign spies,’ Grand Master Tudor announced to the gathering in the great palace chamber, ‘and until we do-or,indeed, until this war is over-we must increase our efforts to protect ourselves.’
There was a great commotion as everyone assembled began talking amongst themselves. This was the grandest of the palace state rooms, with banners of blue and gold hung between the internal pillars and enormous crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceilings. Statues and exquisite reliefs adorned the walls at every opportunity. Several rows of long tables with every seat filled stretched the length of the hall. The crowd also filled every standing space, pressed against the walls.
The Empress sat at the highest point at one end of the long room, with General Ruardin and numerous court officials seatedbyher side. At the request of Grand Master Anthem, an emergency meeting had been called to discuss this latest atrocity and toformulatesome plan of defence.
Only a small percentage of the room was donned in black, with Samuel and the two Erics also present. Lords Quimbus and Nottingsworth had both fallen in the School of Magic, so the Council of Magicians had been thinned yet again. Given the heavy toll of the war, there was barely an able mage left in the city, save for those in this room. Even the eccentric Balthazar was present with several of his followers, donned in white,and the secretive Rammel himself, of Rammel’s Spellcasters, had also seen fit to attend. A small cluster of men from the Magicians’ Alliance had also been summoned, most of whom had fled the Orderin the first placeto avoid being sent into war. This was a critical time and all magicians had been called to stand together.
Master Celios was present, sitting beside Lord Kalbak, and he seemed bereft of the madness that had affected him earlier, looking on alertly. Next to Celios was the same man who had attended him previously and had cleaned up his spill but,being seated at the table like this and dressed formally, he was certainly no servant of any kind-which was something of a curious development in itself. High Lord Jacobs sat up near the Empress and he scrutinised those gathered before him as if searching for assassins amongst their own.
‘The Order’s loss is the Empire’s loss, Grand Master Tudor,’ the Empress spoke, hushing the din. The architects of the past had ensured the room carried sound well, and that it did not suffer from echoes or undue reverberations when many tried to speak at once. ‘And I agree that we are certainly all at risk here. We have already taken steps to protect ourselves on all possible levels, from whom we allow through the city gates, to the water we sip from our cups.’
High Lord Jacobs stood from his seat to gain the attention of the audience and he let his palms rest on the table before him. ‘That is good news, Empress, but that will only protect your citizens for a short time. This tragedy in the School of Magic must serve to strengthen our resolve and quicken our response. We must decide, here and now, what to do about this invasion from the peoples of the Paatin Desert. The Empire itself is at stake. We, the Order, are your humble servants, but we request a decision be made swiftly. We seek retribution for our losses.’
He retook his seat as the gathering erupted into a furore. The magicians were all quiet, but the other denizens of the room were shaking their fists.
‘The Order has failed us time and time again!’ roared one man. ‘If it cannot even protect itself, what are we to do?’
‘The Empire cannot be forced into foolish action by the loss of some troublesome magicians!’ cried out another.
‘The Empire will prevail!’ came from yet another, who shook his fist in the air.
But the entire assembly fell quiet as Grand Master Anthem stood slowly in his place. He looked out from beneath his wispy eyebrows with a heavy heart and a look of thinly restrained anger. ‘I have lost many dear friends in these past days,’ he said softly,thoughhis voice carried to each ear, ‘and I will not have any of them demeaned here…by you. The Order has saved your skins more than any of you would care to know, so pray that we continue to do so. I recommend that those with impatient tongues hold them now, for the time for banter has ended and the time to make decisions has come. I do not make threats lightly, but I will strike down the first man who speaks out of turn. My patience has worn thin and I do not like to be tested. Do I have your attention?’ and no one dared to move even the slightest as he gazed across the room. ‘Very well,’ he said, sitting himself back down. ‘Let us continue.’
Only Empress Lillith dared to break the long silence that followed. ‘Our fellows of the Order are correct. I, too, am tired of all this bickering and arguing within my court. This latest incident cannot go unanswered. We must make a plan of action-quickly and with the strength that such atrocities demand.’
‘Agreed, Your Majesty,’ Chancellor Donovan, to her right, stated. ‘But like any good plan, it must be rational and welldesigned. We cannot set out rashly or we will be sending our precious forces to their doom, and good plans take time. If we sally out to action on the spur of the moment, we could be leaving ourselves open for attack from another direction. All things must be considered and we must have reports from around the Empire to know the true extent of the situation. These reports must be thoroughly investigated to ensure they are based on fact and have not been dispersed by the enemy. If the Paatin can sneak an army behind our defences-and they have already done this once before-it could be the end for us all. The loss of the magicians only reinforces our need to take care.’
‘I agree,’ Grand Master Gallivan called back. ‘Let us take all the time in the world. When the invaders are here shooting arrows over our walls, we can meet them with tea and discuss their demands over biscuits.’
‘The brazen nerve!’ a man to Samuel’s left called aloud, before abruptly shutting his mouth and sinking into his seat as old Anthem swung his gaze towards him.
As a murmuring disquiet began, Grand Master Anthem calmed the room by gently raising his palms, displaying to the gathering his most reassuring expression. ‘What Grand Master Gallivan is saying, and what I must reinforce, is that we have seen what the Paatin invaders are capable of, in person. Reports have been pouring in, ever since, of our losses against them, and we have been almost powerless to react. These desert barbarians, as some have been calling them, are marching their way towards us and devouring the Empire as they go. The Empire is fragmented and weakened after the death of our revered Emperor and the ensuing war with the north. We have lost contact entirely with most of the territories. We can no longer continue to deny our current predicament. We must take action, and quickly, or we may find it is too late. The poisoning of the Order should only strengthen our resolve to act quickly, before more of our numbers are lost.’
Again,the assembly roared with disbelief and outrage. During the fracas, Samuel could not but help notice Master Celios and his neighbour whispering back and forth to each other. The noise began gathering momentum, but this time it was General Ruardin who spoke up,quellingthenoiseat once with his booming voice.
‘Quieten down! I have sat here patiently since our Emperor’s death and watched your petty arguments decide the fate of our Empire. I had once imagined that there were few amongst you who would knowingly place your own interests before our great and noble Empire. Sadly, I have come to realise that the Empire started rotting from within the same day our beloved Emperor was slain, and that it was you here, you supposed patriots, that have driven us into our current state.’ No one dared to speak up against the general’s fury. ‘Listen,then, to the Empress. You have all been given ample time to come up with a solution, but all I hear are more excuses and delays. I have taken the liberty of speaking with Her Highness in private. Some of you here may still remember that the Empire has been placed into her care until Emperor Leopold becomes of age and her word is law. We have spoken long and well, and the decision is this: if you do not present her with a plan of action within three days’ time, I will open the gates and send the Royal Guard to war.’
There was an audible gasp from around the chamber, but still, under threat of attracting Anthem or Ruardin’s wrath, no one dared let out more noise than that.
‘Please reconsider, Your Majesty,’ Chancellor Donovan pleaded to his Empress. ‘I do wish you would speak with us before making rash decisions of this kind. Without the Royal Guard, the city will be defenceless.’
‘Don’t fret, Chancellor Donovan,’ Empress Lillith told him. ‘We have not committed ourselves to this course of action just yet. Indeed, we would never send the entire Guard away and that comes more as a threat to you than anything.But if any more of the Empire falls, there will be precious little point in even defending Cintar. I will give you the promised three days to find a solution to this dilemma, but if a suitable plan is not presented,our threat will come to fruition. I trust you will work together and think well. You may use all the resources of the Empire to help with this task.’
‘I beg to correct you, Your Majesty,’ Councillor Madhaven, sitting several seats down, spoke up, ‘but Imperial edict signed by yourself states that a majority vote of your council must be gained before such decisions can be enacted. This is against your own decree and cannot be permitted, by your own word and law.’
‘I actually do remember most of what you put before me to sign, Councillor. I may not have Turian blood in my veins, but I do have the semblance of an education. Despite what powers you have managed to wrest from me, General Ruardin can still make such commands in times of war such as this.’
At that, Madhaven swallowed his pompous pride and nodded graciously. ‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
‘Weshall apply ouselves to your challenge,’ Donovan announced, ‘and report our plans back to you on the third day. I agree that we have been tardy, so I think I speak for all when I say we will commit ourselves entirely and prepare a plan of action worthy of the need. Given the seriousness of the day, I suggest we adjourn this gathering immediately and begin our work at once.’
‘Agreed,’ Empress Lillith returned.
Chancellor Donovan plucked up the gavel on his desk and struck it on its block, making a resounding crack that sounded the end of the meeting.
The congregation rose and began to meander out. Samuel was doing the same when he noticed a disturbance in the crowd beside Master Celios. He pushed his way through to see what was happening, with Goodfellow following closely behind, and found a tussle going on between Celios, his attendant and an agitated woman. The two men were doing their best to keep her quiet, but the woman was bawling and struggling against the both of them.
‘Give me back my husband!’ she was wailing, and the parting crowd regarded the scene with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
‘Keep your hands off him, my good woman!’ Celios instructed and he finally managed to pull the woman away from his indignant attendant. ‘Your husband is busy with his duties. Return to your chambers!’
‘That is all I have heard every day! When will he return to me? I have not seen him in months. My husband has been taken from me!’
‘He is not taken, you foolish woman!’ Celios said angrily. ‘Open your eyes. We all must make sacrifices in these days of turmoil. Go home and be patient.’
With that, some younger maidservants helped the desperate woman away. Celios’ attendant patted his clothes back into place and had to tuck his ruffled shirt back into his pants.
‘Who is that man?’ Samuel asked of Goodfellow.
‘I understand it is Sir Ferse. He has been assigned to take care of Master Celios, while our seer struggles with his…difficulties.’
‘Sir Ferse? But why would a Lord of the court be relegated to such subservient duties?’
‘I have no idea,’ Goodfellow responded. ‘There are so many strange things happening these days, I have given up asking questions.’
‘That sounds like good sense. I think I shall do the same,’ Samuel said and they pushed their way out of the room and set about to find their lunch.
It was mid-morning of the second day after the Empress’ ultimatum and Samuel was once again resting inhistowerroomhigh above the city. He had been feeling glum since the loss of Master Glim and was content to remain alone with his thoughts in his room, while the palace pondered its fate. He had just been peering out the window, lured by some disturbance far below, when Goodfellow burst in without a pause, bearing bad news.
‘The Empress has vanished!’ he declared.
‘What are you talking about?’ Samuel asked at once.
‘She retired to her chambersyesterday eveningand that was the last that was seen of her. She and her son have both disappeared.’
Samuel was beyond belief. ‘How could she disappear? She must be in the palace somewhere.’
‘She’s not in the palace. They’ve looked everywhere.’
‘Did they look in the dungeons?’ Samuel asked.
‘Everywhere,’ Goodfellow replied. ‘They’ve scoured the palace with hounds already and there is not a scent of her to be found.’
‘Magic?’
‘Nothing. Not a spell in sight. It looks like the palace was somehow infiltrated and she was bundled away, along with Leopold. General Ruardin is having a fit and is going through the palace staff like a wildfire. So far, no one seems to have seen anything and no oneelseis missing.’
Samuel drew his cloak from the wall. ‘Then let’s go and see if we can help. Things just keep getting worse and worse, don’t they?’
The palace was,indeed,in a frenzy as they made through the halls. Guards were present at every intersection and doorway, scrutinising everyone who passed. They even stopped the two magicians, asking their names and checking them against a list, which in itself was a sign of the extreme situation.
When they finally tracked down Grand Master Anthem, he was in a small meeting room with General Ruardin and Chancellor Donovan. Several other scribes were sitting in front of a bundle of papers, furiously sorting and scribbling on the piles before them. The door was open, and messengers and soldiers were filing in and out, making reports and receiving instructions. It seemed they had quickly established a plan of operation and the three men were busy with maps of the city,makingmarkshere and there as they received reports. Either,the three of them had agreed to cooperate for the sake of the Empress, or they were stubbornly competing to command the search-Samuel was not sure.
‘We just heard,’ said Samuel. ‘Is there something we can do?’
‘Not just yet,’ Anthem replied, ‘but it’s good you came. Wait here for instructions. I’m sure we will have use for you shortly. We have the whole city to scour, but we need to prepare for the fact that the Empress and young Leopold may already be beyond the walls.’
‘You don’t think they could have been murdered, do you?’ Goodfellow asked and General Ruardin almost speared him with a pointed stare.
‘We haven’t come to that conclusion yet. Everything points to a kidnapping, as there has been neither bloodfoundnor body recovered.’
Just then, one of the captains from the Royal Guard came whispering into Chancellor Donovan’s ear. As the soldier rushed back out, Donovan turned to them all with a look of concern. ‘They’ve just found something in the harbour.’
‘What is it?’ Ruardin asked.
‘A ship,a monstrous ship beyond anything our harbour-men have ever seen.’
‘Where did it come from?’ Anthem asked the man.
‘No one knows,’ Donovan replied. ‘It seems it must have come into the harbour overnight. Everyone has been asked to keep their distance until we can send someone to investigate. Apparently, the ship has floated into the harbour by chance, although such a thing seems remarkable. Its sails are gone and it’s in quite a state, from what I have just been told. The harbour-men are calling it a ghost ship. They are requesting the aid of the Order, just in case. At a time like this, it seems almost certainly connected with the kidnapping. At the very least, we cannot discount the fact until it has been investigated.’
Grand Master Anthem turned his attention to Samuel and Goodfellow. ‘Do you remember me saying you may be needed?’
Coursing across the harbour brought back memories of the night the Merry Widow had been stricken upon the rocks. Samuel was only thankful that it was daylight, as in his opinion the only thing worse than being at sea was being at sea at night, even if they were within the safety of the harbour.
Grand Master Gallivan, standing alone in his magic-driven vessel, led their tiny fleet, while Samuel and the Erics were huddled in another with oarsmen driving them forward. From the moment he first sighted the monstrous vessel far ahead, an awful feeling-a dreaded foreboding-sat deep in the pit of Samuel’s stomach. As they neared, he could see the ship was as thick as five of the Empire’s greatest ships stacked side by side, and longer than seven or eight. It towered above the other vessels, as if a fortress had been somehowerectedon water. Imperial ships had already been brought alongside; each looking dwarfed as they waited beside it. Each craft sat patiently-not too close to the mysterious vessel-waiting for the magicians to come.
The longboats arrived at the side of the ship and Samuel had to crane his neck to look up at it, almost as if the walls of some floating city lay above him. A few soldiers went first, standing in their boats and throwing their hooks up over the side. It took them several attempts,for few of the men had a strong enough arm to reach the top. They scaled up and, after a few quiet moments, a number of roped ladders they had carried with them came tumbling over the side.
The soldiers in the other longboats began scampering up, while the three magicians sat looking at each other expectantly.
‘Right,’ Goodfellow said nervously. ‘Who’s first?’
‘I’ll go,’ Eric Pot added and stood, careful not to rock the boat. He put his foot onto the first rung and started to climb the treacherous wooden slats with Samuel following after him. They had said nothing toeach other duringthe whole trip across the bay and Samuel was thankful to be out of the little boat, if only for that reason.
Clambering over the rails and onto the deck of the ship, Samuel began to believe this truly was a ghost ship. There was no sign of any sailsattached tothe masts, which themselves werebroken andmissing greatchunks. Holes and scorch marks covered the decking, as if the ship had barely survived some heated battle. Goodfellow came up behind him, adjusting his spectacles and swallowing nervously at the scene.
Grand Master Gallivan began inspecting the decks, sending out scores of spells to investigate, while more soldiers climbed aboard. Many stood with their weapons ready, faces looking somewhat pale.
Finally, the commanding officer for the men, Captain Riggadardian, scrambled over the side railing and began looking about without worry or hurry, patting his uniform back into place. Samuel had had little to do with the man previously. He seemed a tad too sure of himself, as Turians commonly did, but rumour had it he was a capable commander.
‘Report!’ Riggadardian commanded.
‘Nothing yet, Sir!’ one of his men shouted back. ‘It looks abandoned and has seen extensive battle. I’d say it’s also been at sea a long time-several months at least. There are entrances to below decks fore, aft and middle, and several doors leading into the deckhouses. This thing is enormous, but it’s in terrible shape. I don’t know who built it or where it came from, but it’s seen better days.’
‘Magicians, what do you sense?’ the captain asked.
Samuel and the two Erics walked over to wherethe captain andGallivan stood together.
‘I can sense people below the deck. Not many. No magicians,’ Gallivan said, eyeing the towering structures of the ship. ‘No one above.’
‘Scour the rooms one by one,’ Riggadardian called aloud. ‘Leave no speck of vessel hidden.’
Just then,a door creaked open and magicians and soldiers alike turned to see some figures stepping out onto the decks. It was a small group of men and women, emaciated and thin. They shuffled out, seven in total, heedless to the swords raised towards them, and they waited, keeping their eyes to the floor.
‘What is this?’ Riggadardian whispered to Gallivan beside him.
‘They are unarmed, Captain,’ the magician responded, ‘and obviously in no state to cause us harm.’
‘Any more of them?’ the tight-bearded captain asked.
Gallivan cocked his head slightly to the side, scanning the ship for signs of life. ‘Plenty of rats and lice, but no other people below decks. Nothing else of note that I can detect. Still, send your men down to look around. There may be clues as to what has happened here.’
Samuel could feel this was true, but there was also something else. Somewhere, deep inside the ship, he could feel that something was present,something heavy with magic, but somehow hiddenfromhis senses. He knew he should make some mention of it, but Gallivan and the others did not seem to feel it. He thought it could be his own paranoia, for it was not so much magic he could sense-more like something…missing.
‘Then the Empress is not here,’ Riggadardian said,with disappointment. He recovered his composure and sent his men scrambling away to look into every nook and cranny on board the vessel. He approached the sorry group that had come crawling from beneath the decks. They looked as if they had barely survived some recent and harrowing calamity.
‘Who are you?’ he asked firmly. ‘Where are you from?’
None of them responded. They continued staring down at the deck, a mixed cluster of men and women, dressed in tattered rags. Their hair was matted and their skin was filthy. Riggadardian’s men eyed the group warily and stood no closer to them than need be.
‘Open your mouths!’ one of the soldiers bellowed, gesturing with his sword from afar, but the people remained quiet and motionless.
‘Grand Master Gallivan,’ the captain implored over his shoulder and the magician stepped up beside him. The two of them faced the emaciated survivors. ‘What on earth can you make of this?’
‘It seems evident that this ship is not within Turian or Garten capabilities. I have never seen or heard of anything remotely like it. I surmise that this ship and these people are not from Amandia and must be from some distant land we have not yet explored. And,from appearances, I’d say they’ve come a long way and are within days of perishing. This ship seems beyond navigation, wouldn’t you say?’
Riggadardian nodded with sureness. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, but, with no sails and no capacity for oars or any other method of propulsion that I can see, it could have been floating around for any amount of time, although, it seems incredible that they somehow entered the harbour without being caught upon the rocks. There seems to be more than just luck involved. It would take manymore than these few survivors to manage a vessel of this size. I can only guess the crew have all perished.’
‘I agree. Normally I would suggest magic has been at work here, but none of this lot is capable. Let me have a closer look at them.’
Gallivan stepped towards the nearest survivor and held out his open palms to her. Gently, he put his hand to her chin and raised her face so he could look into her eyes. The woman was young, still in her late teens, and she made no effort to resist. In the light, it became evident her skin was not entirely filthy, but was deeply tanned and her eyes were angled, in the manner of the Western Isles.
‘Give them food and water immediately, Captain,’ Gallivan instructed. ‘I’d guess there’s none left aboard this ship, judging from the state they’re in. We can find a method to communicate with them later. Wherever they are from, it seems quite certain they are not involved with the loss of the Empress. Such a task is well beyond them in this condition. Keep guards on them while we search the rest of the ship, but I feel they are of little threat to us. Send word back to the palace. The search must continue elsewhere.’
Riggadardian agreed and called for rations and water to be brought over from one of the Turian vessels. The cluster of survivors remained still, but they occasionally glanced up to follow the movements around them.
‘Grand Master Gallivan,’ Samuel beckoned, while the others were investigating the curiosities of the ship, ‘I feel there is something else on this ship.’
‘Oh?’ the raven-haired magician responded with interest. ‘I feel nothing out of the ordinary. What do you sense?’
‘I don’t know. There’s something here, below us. It’s there, but not there. It’s difficult to describe.’
‘Perhaps something deliberately hidden?’ Gallivan mused. ‘I feel nothing, but I trust your senses, Lord Samuel. Take some guards and see what you can find.’
The Erics had climbed up onto one of the great deckhouses and were peering about, so Samuel started tentatively into the doorway from where the survivors had emerged, peeking into the strangely designed interior. Soldiers were moving about hurriedly and had already gone in before him, but he still felt as if he was entering into a beast’s lair. As he stepped over the high threshold and into the ship, he could not help but notice one of the male survivors tracking him subtly with his narrow eyes.
The cavernous ship was filled with narrow passages and rooms and it immediately became apparent that searching its entirety would take considerable time. He peered into some of the roomsand sawscraps of furniture here and there, but otherwise the insides of vessel had been gutted. It seemed as if portions of the walls had at one time been stuck with papers or decorations, but even these had been stripped away, leaving behind only scraps of paper backing. Small windows in the outermost walls let in sufficient light but,as he progressed further into the ship, its passageways further darkened.
He fiddled with the ancient relic in his pocket, wishing that it was reliable enough to cast some light unto the scene. Instead, he was forced to ask one of Riggadardian’s men for a lantern and he held it out nervously before him, wishing its radiance could banish away the shadows and his feeling of dread.
He squeezed past the soldiers as he met them, twisting round curling stairways and delving deeper into the ship until even the busy footsteps above him sounded far and muffled, and there was only the gurgling of water against the hull of the ship to keep him company. He thought about turning around and summoning some of Riggadardian’s men to accompany him, but his magician’s curiosity now had the better of him, and he continued on; drawn down deeper into the bowels of the plundered vessel by the strange feeling in his stomach that there was something here, waiting to be discovered.
Turning one corner, Samuel found himself in a long corridor that must have run along the centre of the ship. It was a strange passage, for it had no doors or branches along its length, and was marked only at the end by a single,closed door. There were no portholes to grant him light and he judged that he must be well beneath the water level, somewhere between the cargo holds and ballast spaces at the very bottom of the craft. Any further down and he guessed he would be stepping over the giant curved ribs that gave such vessels their strength-assuming, of course, that this ship had been built similarly to the Imperial designs he was familiar with.
Unlike those Imperial ships, however, this vessel barely moved with the waves that harassed it outside,splashing and bubbling far above. It sat in the water as steady as a rock, perhaps due to some fact of its design, or perhaps merely because of its massive size. Despite this, he felt unsteady and had to reach out to the wall for support. At first, he thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, but then he realised there was something wrong with the ship or his senses. The passageway seemed to be pulsing and the sensation grew by the moment,contorting and twisting like a swallowing gullet, as if trying to draw him down towards the far door.
He tried to shake the vision from his eyes, but it would not be banished. Samuel could only hold up his lantern and take leaden steps along the passage. The thought of turning and fleeing threatened to overwhelm him, but somehow he kept on going; one step at a time along the churning corridor until,finally, he found himself standing just before the door at its end, sweating and trembling.
The air seemed to be humming like wasps around his ears and he felt, as he slowly reached his quivering hand out towards the latch,that at any moment the portal would burst open and devour him. Somehow, despite the fact his magician’s senses told him nothing was there, he was convinced that sitting on the other side of the door was something terrible and massive, like a lurking creature from one of his nightmares, guarding its precious hoard. The desire to scream and run away almost overcame him, but he dared not turn his back to the door lest something should creep out after him. He could not remember experiencing such fear in his life and it had him shaking and trembling,as if with a fever,and the lantern was rattling wildly in his hand-he had to keep his fist clutched as tight as he could to keep it from leaping free. His blood was roaring in his ears and his heart sounded like a booming drum.
Then, as his finger finally met the icy brass latch, the strangeness ceased and all was again still and quiet. The tension and dread that had saturated the air fell away and Samuel found himself looking all around with bewilderment. There he was, standing at the end of a perfectly normal passage, although cold and wet with sweat. He felt foolish, hardly able to imagine what had caused his fear, for there was no hint as to anything that could haveelicitedsuch feelings. Still, he looked behind him, hoping someone else would appear at the end of the corridor to lend him their company.
After a few momentsoflistening intently for footsteps, Samuel realised no one else was coming, and so he resolutely returned his attention to the door. He lifted the latch-for it seemed the door had been sealed from the outside-and pushed the portal all the way in.It issuing a great creaking groan as it swung in on its great forged hinges.
The room within was filled with a darkness that his lantern seemed hesitant to penetrate. He stepped in, holding his light source forth and peering into the void. He waved his hand to and fro, trying to burn away the dark, but his eyes were taking their good time to make out the details within. The sour smell of mould and mildew crawled its way up into his nostrils as he blinked and peered into the darkness.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw that there was something squatting directly in front of him, only three arms’ lengths away, as if it had been waiting for him to arrive. It was a great bulking thing and,if Samuel had not been frozen to the spot,he would have dropped his lantern and run back out the door as fast as he could. It took a moment before he could gather himself, for the thing did not leap or roar or do any of the things his primitive fears had first assumed it might do. In fact, it took him quite a while to realise that he was actually looking at something more like a mound of furs-an inanimate bundle-rather than some beast crouched on its haunches.
He had almost dismissed the pile altogether, when something glinted in the light and again he took a sudden breath. There, amongst the dark fur and shadow of the heap, were two eyes looking back at him. Bravely, he raised his lantern towards it and the light fell upon a patch amongst the fur that had been painted and coloured with swirling patterns of brown and red. Indeed, almosthidden amongst the patterns was a set of eyes and the thing started blinking at the brightness of his lamp.
A hole opened below the eyes and Samuel realised the thing was now gape-mouthed, givingita look of surprise to match his own. Astonishingly, as he looked closer at the mound and began to come to terms with what he was beholding, he realised it was some kind of person that faced him, a personsitting in an enormous chair and draped in layers ofreekingfurs and cloths. The occupant of the chair was blinking and moving its head,as if examining him in return, but it was difficult to believe that this was a human he was observing. Unlike every other living thing he had ever seen, this one had absolutely no aura of life around it. He barely knew what to think of it. No matter how much he concentrated his magician’ssightupon the thing, there was no energy at all to suggest that this was, in fact, a living entity of any description.
He was about to say something to voice his puzzlement when the thing he was staring at beat him to it and spoke in a whisper that cut the silence of the ominous chamber.
‘What are you?’ it asked of Samuel, its voice a mix of fear and curiosity.
There were two surprises for Samuel in this: first, the voice was that of a young woman. Why she was sitting alone in this dark chamber, dressed in this way was unfathomable, but that was not the end of it. The second andevengreater surprise was that she spoke in perfect Old Tongue-the language of magicians. It was a language lost to common folk inages long past. For a woman to speak this, now and in such a setting, was astonishing, to say the least. Every attempt his mind made to grasp hold of the situation only seemed to confound him further.
Samuel hesitated, not sure if or how to answer, and the woman raised herself and took a step forwards. Most of her bulk slid away from her shoulders and Samuel realised that a good portion of her many-layered gown had been draped over the arms and back of the high-backed chair, exaggerating the size of them both. It could once have been a decorative dress or cloak meant for the cold, but the fur was so old and matted that now it looked horrendous-as if some diseased creature had died across her shoulders and sloughedits skindown upon her. She raised her arm and pointed to Samuel’s face with a long, black, painted fingernail.
‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded. Any hint of softness from that first whisper was gone and she now spoke with a voice that crackled as if she was a hundred years old. ‘Begone!’ The patterns drawn on her face contorted and exaggerated her features, seemingly designed to make her appear fierce and ghoulish.
‘I am Lord Samuel,’ he responded in Turian, for it seemed a sacrilege to communicate with a woman in the hallowed language of magicians. ‘Why do you speak in the Old Tongue? How do you know this?’
She cocked her head to the side, as if pausing to digest what he had said, before responding in her ancient voice. ‘Don’t cackle at me, demon! Take me to your realm if you must, but do it quickly and put this nightmare to an end so I may awake.’
‘I am no demon,’ Samuel replied, matching her now in using the Old Tongue and she took a step back in surprise.
‘You speak!’ the wretched-looking woman declared with dismay. ‘What manner of creature are you?’
He was about to answer, when some of Riggadardian’s men came trampling down the corridor and trundled in with their lanterns and swords in their hands.
‘The magician’s found someone!’ one of them declared. ‘Take her upstairs!’ and before Samuel could react they were bustling the woman out of the door.
She seemed to struggle in her clothing to move at any speed, but the sight of their prodding swords kept her moving forward and she cackled and hissed at them all the way. Samuel followed behind, taking the long and twisting path that led back to the surface, still struggling to comprehend what he had found.
When they emerged back out onto the deck, the other survivors were squatting on their heels and eating ravenouslythefood Riggadardian must have provided, but they abandoned their feasting and stood straight on sight of the woman. She joined them and they gathered around her, talking quietly and below comprehension, but with excitement.
‘What’s all this?’ Goodfellow asked, alerted by the commotion and coming over to join Samuel. ‘Andwhatis that?’ he added, pointing to the raggedly-dressed woman with undisguised bewilderment.
‘I think it’s a woman.’
‘Astounding. She seems to be completely concealed,’ Eric Pot said, also coming to the join them with Grand Master Gallivan at his side. Both of them were probing at the woman with an assortment of spells.
‘No,’ Gallivan himself answered, lookingascurious as ever and twirling his long moustache thoughtfully. ‘Not unless they are the best spells I have ever seen. She has nopresencewhatsoever. If I’m not mistaken, we have found another mystery to match that of the curious Lord Samuel.’ Gallivan looked from Samuel to the woman and back again. ‘What perplexing times these are. It’s not enough that we have a magician who defies all explanation, but now a woman, seemingly cut from the same mould,comes to our shores. This is even more baffling than before. Can it have any meaning?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘It appears you’re not quite as unique as you thought, Samuel,’ Eric said wryly, but Samuel ignored the sting in his comment. ‘Now we have a woman to match you.’
‘There’s something else,’ Samuel began. ‘She speaks the Old Tongue.’
Gallivan looked towards the group and formed a spell of Listening, amplifying their whisperings to be audible to his ear. ‘Indeed, you are correct. Indeed, they all do.’
‘But they’re not magicians,’ Eric said, stating the obvious.
‘No,’ Gallivan mused. ‘But they are obviously something. I think the time has come to ask some questions.’
The four magicians went over to the group, who all looked back at them expectantly.
‘Where have you come from?’ Gallivan asked them, using the language of magicians.
At that, one of them spoke up. He had used some of the water to wash the grime from his face, and Samuel could see he also had olive skin and narrow eyes. He nodded slightly before replying using perfect Old Tongue,although the intonation was somewhat strange and the grammar unusual. ‘We are from the Nation of Koia. Thank you for the hospitality of this meal. We throw ourselves at your mercy for,as you can see, our vessel is in dire need of repair and we have lost our entire crew and company. We are the last of our party and close to starvation. We finished our water only yesterday and had given up hope.’ He looked around at the bay encircling them and the city huddled on its shore. ‘We really had no idea we had found land until just now. It is,indeed,a remarkable thing.’
‘How is it that you speak the Old Tongue?’ Gallivan asked.
‘I do not know this name. I only speak what I speak. This is our mothertongue, which we call Koian. I must admit, I am curious to ask how you have learnt it, in this land so far away from our own.’
‘We can discuss this later,’ Gallivan answered. ‘What is important is that we can communicate. I suggest you come to the palace and rest, after which time we can speak at length. I’m afraid you will find that you have arrived at an unfortunate time and there will be many questions for you. Are you the leader of these people?’
The man bowed his head again. ‘Now I am. The others have died and so I have assumed the role of ambassador. We will be very pleased to accompany you but,before we submit to your requests, I must ask you, in what manner do you take us? Are we your captors or your guests?’
‘I can see that you are in a position of need, so we will provide you what assistance we can. You have no need to fear from us and can consider yourselves our guests, for the time being. As I have said, we will have many questions and I will not be the one to decide your final fate.’
The ambassador seemed content with the answer and sighed with relief. ‘That is a fair response. I am glad that you seem to be a people of reason. Then, given that we are indeed your guests, would you ask your men to lower their weapons and allow us to move freely? We are simple people and the sight of such things is greatly alarming.’
‘I would ask you one more question first,’ Gallivan said. ‘What has happened to you and everyone on board? And why is this ship so bare? There’s hardly anything on board except you and the clothes you’re standing in. It strikes me as a very unusual state of affairs.’
‘We finished our food several weeks ago and have been subsisting on what we could catch from the sea, which was, unfortunately, very little. Everyone else on the ship either died in our escape from Koia, or has perished in the time since from starvation or illness. At one stage, we were sinking and sowehad to throw almost everything else overboard until we discovered how to operate the pumping equipment. Unfortunately, none of us who survived hassailing skills. The other things we burned,for warmth and light and to cook our fish. We are court officials of mediocre importance and all the important envoys amongst us have perished. Can I ask you in return, what is the name of this land?’
‘This continent is called Amandia. You have reached the city of Cintar, home of the Turian people and seat of the Turian Empire.’
The ambassador bowed deeply before Gallivan and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘Then we throw ourselves upon the mercy of the great Turian Empire. I have heard of this land called Amandia, but it is unfortunate that I have not yet heard the glories of your wondrous empire.’
‘One more thing,’ Gallivan asked and the Koian man awaited the next question patiently. ‘Who is that woman?’ he asked, pointing directly to the strangely-clothed woman who had been stowed below the decks.
The ambassador chuckled as if Gallivan was attempting to tease him. He smiled broadly, but began to look nervous as Gallivan stood waiting for the answer.
‘Surely you jest, kind Sir,’ the man replied. ‘Don’t you recognise her? She is God.’
The Koian survivors were taken to guestrooms in the palace and given the opportunity to clean themselves and rest. They had taken their belongings from the ship, which consisted only of several trunks of clothing that had been piled up in the room with the woman they claimed to be their god. Their ship, meanwhile, was anchored in placeso thatthe Imperial engineers could examine it. Such a mighty construction was beyond their knowledge, but the chance to improve their seafaring abilities could not be missed. Theyteemedover it like baby spiders released from their eggs, marvelling at the complexities and difficulties of constructing and sailing such an enormous vessel.
A summons soon arrivedforSamuel and Goodfellowto attend court and theyfound themselves hurrying into the crowded palace stateroom. Once again, every notable face of the city was present and an air of excitement saturated the room.
‘Lord Samuel, Master Goodfellow, please come in and sit down,’ Grand Master Anthem called, for the pair had arrived last of all.
Eric was already there sitting opposite and he nodded unenthusiastically as they sat and adjusted their robes into place. Chancellor Donovan was obviously already deep into discussion at that point and he continued once the room had returned to quiet.
‘So it seems, after extensive questioning by Lord Rubrick, that the arrival of these Koian representatives from the Court of Empress Moon has nothing to do with our current predicament. We can assist them with food and shelter, but little else, for they have troubles of their own. It is apparent that their own nation has fallen into war and they have fled its battered shores. Before we begin our other business, the Koian survivors would like to address the court and express their thanks. Lord Rubrick will translate for those of you of the court who may not understand.’
Rubrick stood and cleared his throat. His voice was gruff anyway and so the effort seemed to make little difference. ‘What you will hear us speaking is the Old Tongue. It is very unusual for it to be heard by any outside the Order or by anyone who is not a magician but,as youhave observed, everything in these difficult days has become very…complicated.’
All eyes turned to an antechamber door, which opened to allow the Koians to enter the main room. They now appeared cleaned and in new clothes made to their own style and their prominent features were now more evident than ever. Their skin was tanned deeply and their hair was black and glossy. The men wore their hair in short ponytails that reached to their shoulder blades, while the women’shairhung down to the small of their backs. Their eyes were narrow, but their eyelids seemed oversized, making them look positively alien. They obviously had a relationship to the people of the Spice Islands, for Master Rubrick himself had some hint of their features in his blood; however,the Koian faces seemed far more exaggerated and bizarre thanthat ofthe olive-skinned magician.
There was quite a bit of murmuring from the audience as the Koians sauntered forwards to the centre of the room. Whereas before they were meek and even pitiful, a few days’ rest had made all the difference.
Last amongst the party, and causing the greatest commotion as she entered, was the strangely-decorated old woman, walking with the other female Koians at her sides. Her face was again painted beyond recognition and her clothing had changed, although it was no less outlandish than the last furred outfitin whichshe had been found. Now, she wore a great feathered gown that had large bundles of coloured cloth gathered up and tiedinseemingly random positions. She wore a voluminous,black wig that seemed almost solidandhad two jagged antlers protruding from its sides, making her appear utterly bestial. Her appearance seemed to make no sense, but at least she had bathed and the overpowering stench had been washed away with the grime.
The magicians in the room pointed to the woman openly and then gestured towards and remarked about Samuel, obviously comparing their peculiar magical traits.
‘We thank the Imperial Court of Turia for recognising us,’ one of the Koian men began, echoed by Lord Rubrick, who translated for thebenefitof the court. It was the same man who had spoken aboard their ship, and it was now evident that he had grey wisps at the sides of his head, and seemed the oldest of the four men. The three remaining Koian men stood spread behind their leader and they passed their eyes calmly over the crowd that sat assessing them. ‘And we thank you for rescuing us from our fates at sea. I am Ambassador Canyon and I would like to pass to you a blessing from Empress Moon. She had sent us towards a different destination, but fate has found us here. It is fitting, then, that her blessings should fall to you, our saviours. I must apologise for throwing ourselves upon your mercy in a time of your own misfortune. At any other time, we would greet you in a matter befitting two such brother Empires. However, I fear that given we have been delayed so long andconsideringthe state of our nation when we left it, there is little chance that Koia still exists in any meaningful form.’
‘With whom have you been at war?’ asked Chancellor Donovan, curious.
‘With the Eudans. While we are a peaceful people, we excel at sea travel and trade. We exchanged our technologies with them in exchange for goods and food. Unfortunately, once they had our knowledge, they used it to invade our lands in a war that has lasted fourteen years. Finally, Empress Moon sent us out in twenty of our last and greatest ships to escape. We were assailed only two days into our trip by Eudan warships based on our own designs, andwelost our captain and half the crew. We fled blindly, without our navigation equipment and separated from the fleet. We were supposed to find the land of Fisk, far to the south of here but,unwittingly,followed the trail of the Western Isles. The continent of Amandia is known to us, but we have not traded so far north in many generations.’
‘We are familiar with Fisk, but we have not heard of your land. I have a question,’ Donovan stated, and Lord Rubrick translated. ‘What do you plan to do now, given that your mission has been such a disaster? As I believe you have been told, we are also besieged bywarringnations and it is beyond our capabilities to come to your aid.’
The one called Canyon gathered himself and went on. ‘As I mentioned, our captain and superiors were all killed. Our ship, as you saw, is ruined. We have no way of returning home, but that was never our intent. We were commanded to escape and escape we have, so our mission has not been a disaster at all. It is with glad hearts that we stand here having finally found success, when only days ago we were on the brink of total failure.’
Chancellor Donovan scoffed at this and looked atthe visitorswith amusement. ‘My good man, I have no idea how you can call your presence here a success in any form. You lost nineteen enormous ships and who knows how many men. Of all your numbers,only the eight of you survived. It seems like the most terrible of losses imaginable. Not only that, but you seem to have leapt from the frying pan into the fire, for we are currently vying for our lives ourselves. Our city could be assailed at any time and you could soon be under threat once again.’
Ambassador Canyon absorbed the news indifferently. ‘Still, we managed tofulfilour command. That is all that matters. If you wish us to leave, we can-if that is your meaning.’
‘Inform the ambassador from Koia that he and his party can remain our guests for as long as they like,’ Councillor Madhaven said, having chatted briefly with the others around him. ‘I think we have established that you are of no threat to the Empire and that the court will agree with me in that regard-in the Empress’ absence, of course. In return, I understand our navy would like the chance to examine your vessel to further their own designs.’
‘That ship is ruined, noble Sir, and has served its purpose. We need it no more. Please accept it as the most meagre of gifts.’
‘Tell me, Ambassador Canyon,’ High Lord Jacobs spoke up, obviously eager to get the question out. ‘Can you possibly introduce the rest of your party?’
The Koian seemed surprised and was quick to respond. ‘Yes, of course. It is not customary amongst the noble houses of Koia to introduce the lesser servants but,in this situation, I am barely more than a servant myself, so please allow me to introduce them. This is Stone, Cloud and Horse.’ The three other men stood without movement or recognition that they had beennamed. ‘These are Lady Wind, Lady Leaf and Lady River.’ In contrast, at the sound of their names, the ladies nodded. Lady River was by far the youngest, while the other two were well into middle age.
During this time, the magicians chortled amongst themselves as the names were mentioned, and many of the others gathered also did so, on hearing the translation. Quite conspicuously, the costumed woman was left unmentioned and she continued standing motionless amongst them, as if she had been carved from wood.
‘And…’ Jacobs prompted, raising his finger towards her. ‘Who is that one?’
The question almost set the ambassador knocking at the knees and he looked nervously to his male colleagues behind him. ‘I…I don’t know how to answer, kind Sir. Do you not know who she is?’
‘Of course I don’t. None of us do. You’ve all just arrived so how could we possibly know who she is!’
‘Again, please forgive me. Forgive us all, members of the noble court. I thought it was clear,’ he added, nodding around the room. ‘Our customs are obviously quite different in this manner.’ Sweat was somehow already pouring down his brow and he looked again to his companions,as if pleading for help, but they ignored him altogether. The ambassador finally gathered the strength to explain himself and forged on. ‘She is the reason we were sent from our embattled homeland. Empress Moon charged us with the highest honour and responsibility-to keep her from the Eudans. This is why I concluded that our mission was a success, for we have saved the greatest treasure in existence.’
‘That thing is a woman?’ High Lord Jacobs asked. ‘What makes her so valuable that all those others were expendable just to save her?’
‘Why, she is the most precious thing in the universe. Countless wars have been fought over her since time began,including this latest one that has very nearly proved our ruin. She is the very foundation of all civilisation and other nations have eternally sought to attain her from us, her chosen people. She is our god.’
There was a disconcerted murmuring from around the room at this.
‘Your god? What do you call her?’ Jacobs asked, concerned.
‘We do not call her anything,’ the ambassador answered plainly. ‘What need has a god for names?’
Jacobs spoke briefly with those near him, before speaking up to the ambassador once again. ‘Are you saying that this hideous creature standing before us is the very reason your nation has now fallen?’
Ambassador Canyon looked shaken by this, and had to collect himself before responding, even managing a nervous smile. ‘The Eudans were seeking to take her, yes, and that is what started the war.’
‘All this to protect her?’ Jacobs continued. ‘It seems extreme.’
‘It is not so much that we are merely protecting her. By keeping her from capture, we are protecting everyone else.’
There was now frustration in Jacobs’ voice. ‘Really, you must explain yourself. This is just not making any sense.’
‘Our god is all-powerful, but not in any way that could benefit the Eudans. We tried to explain that to them, but they would not listen. They tried to lock her away and deny her the rituals that keep our society ordered and harmonious, but we would not let them. They would mistreat her and enslave our people in her name. If she dies improperly,it will not be a simple task to find her new mortal vessel and chaos would ensue. While she is free,the world is as it should be and our people can live in hope.’
There were a few moments of silence as everyone in the room digested what they had heard.
‘We will not argue with your beliefs and customs, as they may be, but I have one final and important question for you, Ambassador,’ Jacobs stated and he pointed to the costumed woman appointed as their god. ‘Is this woman a witch?’
Canyon was perplexed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question.’ Forwitchwas an abstract term in the Old Tongue, and a bastardisation of standard words. It did not seem to exist in their vocabulary.
‘I’m asking you, does she practise magic?’ The question caused quite a furore amongst the magicians, for not only was such a thing forbidden, it was universally regarded as impossible. Samuel, however, had learned some exceptions to this rule. Anyone, man or woman, could access arcane powers through the black arts, by enacting forbidden rites or inciting the Ancient Lick, but it was physically impossible for a woman to harness true magic as practised by magicians. ‘I must inform you, good Ambassador, that we will know if you are lying and also that the penalty for practising witchcraft in the Empire is death.’
Ambassador Canyon waved his hands before himself to appease the room. ‘Oh, no. Of course not, good Lord. Magic of any kind is also forbidden in our nation. Any child found with an inclination towards it is quickly put to death. We would never resort to such things.’
The magicians in the room were incensed even further and some stood from their seats and vented their rage with shouts and shaking fists.
Grand Master Anthem took over from the failing efforts of High Lord Jacobs. ‘We thank you for your honest answer, Ambassador Canyon. I feel we should inform you that many of us here are actually magicians. Magic is accepted in Turia and we magicians are official appointees of the court. While magic wasoncenot tolerated across Amandia, we now consider it an acceptable practice-when used properly.’
The ambassador looked quite uncomfortable and scanned the various black-robed men in the room, seeming to get the point. ‘Forgive me, please. I did not know and did not mean to show disrespect. As I said, our customs do seem to vary considerably. Our god’s powers are beyond compare, but she is certainly nowitch-as you say.’
‘Why have you brought such an abomination to our shores!’ came an excited shout and all eyes turn to view the speaker. It was Master Celios who now stood from his place, looking flustered. ‘What dreaded and vile curses have you unleashed upon us! What have we done to deserve such a detestable fate?’ And he began spluttering and muttering profanities, throwing his hands in all directions.
‘Calm now, Master Celios,’ High Lord Jacobs called and Sir Ferse stepped up beside the old Master, holding him by the shoulder and speaking into his ear. Eventually, Celios calmed himself and sat down, looking somewhat bewildered.
‘Apologies, to our new friends,’ Anthem stated. ‘Master Celios is in a fragile state at present. Please forgive his outburst.’
‘It is nothing,’ Ambassador Canyon responded. ‘The elderly and infirm must be treated with respect and their embarrassments persevered.’
At this, Anthem scowled, for he was much older than Master Celios. Thankfully, for all involved, he let the remark pass.
‘I think it is decided then,’ Chancellor Donovan then stated. ‘If our respected members of the Order have no objections, you and your party will be guests of the Empire, until such time as you can decide your own fate. We aresatisfiedthat you are not related to the disappearance of our Empress and young Emperor Leopold.’
The ambassador was obviously relieved that the questioning had ended and let out a thankful sigh. ‘Then, if you do not mind, we will retire. I think it will take some time for us to regain our strength. These months have been trying.’
The Koian party readied to leave, but an old and crackling voice cut across the room.
‘Where are the women of the Order?’ It was the Koian god. She had raised a clawed hand in the direction of Grand Master Anthem and was pointing a long,black nail towards him. The room seemed frozen in place. Even the Koians had stopped mid-stride, looking to their costumedgod, aghast. She shambled a few steps towards the Grand Master, making her horns and costume quiver to and fro. ‘Speak up, old man! I’ve asked you a question!’
Anthem finally composed himself and stood to address the unsightly crone. ‘There are no women in the Order. Woman cannot wield magic. It is against the laws of nature.’
‘Ahhh,’ she responded, nodding so that her feathers shook up and down. ‘So it is…so it is, old man. You’ve spoken well, for your kind.’
With that, her attendants quickly surrounded her and bustled her off, with the ambassador leaving last, bowing nervously as he fled the room.
‘Goodness,’ Chancellor Donovan stated. ‘At least we have that matter settled. Now we must face more pressing issues.’ He then set about rearranging some of the papers that sat before him before continuing. ‘Many days have passed and there has been no success in finding the Empress or young Emperor Leopold. In consequence, the plan that was to be presented to her has been delayed. The Empireiswaveringat this stage-another blow to our hearts-but we must, as you have suggested, good magicians, put this latest setback behind us. We must forge ahead,lest our homelands be soiled by the Paatin invaders.’
General Ruardin stood up with a furious clatter of armour. ‘Curse you, Scoundrel! There will be no talk of abandoning the search!’
‘Calm now, General,’ Donovan said, placating the huge man with raised palms. ‘I have not said anything about that. We will continue searching relentlessly until their fate is known. No effort will be spared in this, but we must also rise to meet the Paatin threat.’
‘I know where they are,’ someone called from the assembly and all eyes returned to Master Celios.
‘Have you had a vision, Lord Magician?’ General Ruardin asked, leaning forward on his palms with interest.
‘I have,’ Celios called, standing and staring at the ceiling with glistening eyes, as if caught in the throes of a vision. ‘They aretravellingeast, towards the great fortress of Ghant even as we speak. They are bundled up-hidden, but alive.’
‘Who has taken them?’ Ruardin called out. ‘Where are they! What can you see!’
‘They are bound for the desert,to the home of the Paatin.’
‘Theenemyplansto bargain!’ Councillor Madhaven declared.
But Anthem thought otherwise. ‘The Paatin have no need to bargain. They have us over a barrel already. What do we have that they cannot simply take in due course?’
‘There is a queen at the heart of the desertwhocommands these minions,’ Celios announced. ‘They will live and die for her, for the desert people are fanatics. They worship her and throw themselves to their deaths at her command. She is an abomination and an abhorrence to us, for the Queen of the Desert is a witch.’
‘A witch!’ Ruardin called out in dismay.
‘She has grown strong, far beyond our reach, and has gathered these armies unto herself, intent on destroying us all. She knows we are weakened and has chosen this time to strike at our hearts.’
‘How could this happen?’ Madhaven called out. ‘The Order has failed us again!’
But Celios went on. ‘All is not lost. I see she is intrigued by power of all kinds. She wishes to see what royal merit our young Emperor possesses. They will not be harmed, for the time being. Also, she seeks to use them as bait for her trap.’
‘A trap?’ Ruardin said, hanging on the edge of his seat with intrigue.
‘She seeks to lure our most celebrated magician into her domain and ensnare him-test him. She has heard many things about him. She wants to see the extent of his magic with her own eyes and test him against her minions, and herself.’
‘Who is it, good Master Celios?’ Chancellor Donovan asked. ‘Which magician does she seek?’
Samuel could foresee the answer already, yet he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as the old seer’s arm was thrust out with a pointed finger at the end. Celios then swung his arm around the room, only pausing once he had it aimed directly towards Samuel.
‘Samuel is the one!’ he bellowed and all in the chamber set their gaze upon Samuel.
‘I knew it!’ Samuel groaned to himself.
‘Word of Lord Samuel’sfeatshas reached even the Desert Queen’s ear and she wishes to behold this Saviour of Cintar,’ old Celios declared, ‘-thisChampionof the Order,’ he added with a hint of contempt. ‘I am sure somewhere in the palace, and sometime soon, a message elucidating this will be discovered.’
‘Then we must send the boy at once!’ Ruardin declared. Samuel winced at being called a boy in front of the entire court, but he supposedthatto the great old general, he must still seem an inexperienced youth.
‘Patience, General,’ High Lord Jacobs called out. ‘We should wait to see if this actually transpires. We have other immediate actions to consider. Our Empress and heir are far from her clutches and still within our domain.’
‘Yes, yes. You are right. We must get a message to Ghant,’ Ruardin said with urgency. ‘Magicians, how can we reach them in time?’
Anthem shook his head. ‘Falcons and pigeons are your best employ. Magic has made no gains in the direction of communication. We have long tried without success.’ Samuel looked at Eric at this comment, but his friend kept his head down and his gaze averted. A Journey spell could have Eric at Ghant within seconds.
‘Lord Lomar left for Ghant only recently on a mission for the Order,’ said High Lord Jacobs. ‘If he arrives first, he can block their escape and retrieve our stolen treasures.’
Anthem quickly formed a plan. ‘Then we will send word to the Order houses along the way. Lomar does not dally in his travels, but he will need to make all haste to ensure he arrives first, for the Empress’ captors will be moving as quickly as they can. We can only hope he does arrive first.’
Ruardin sank into his armour. ‘If not, they will slip through our fingers at Ghant and once past there, they are into the east…and lost.’
‘They can be returned!’ Celios cried out with a yelp, almost sending those near him leaping from their seats.
‘Explain yourself, good Lord,’ the enormous Ruardin commanded.
‘Lord Lomar may not be able to stop them at Ghant,’ Celios explained, seeming more focussed now, ‘but we know she will also seek the presence of Lord Samuel, whom they could not kidnap so easily. Samuel can bargain to have them returned.’
‘And if not?’ Ruardin asked.
‘Then a small party should accompany him, to take back our kin by force, if need be,’ Donovan suggested.
Councillor Madhaven stood and shook his fist. ‘We should kill their queen whether the young Emperor is returned or not. That will grant a blow to them that could end this war.’
The room called out their agreement enthusiastically.
‘Yes, yes,’ Celios agreed. ‘The Desert Queen drives their armies. Without her they will lack unity and give up their crusade.’
‘And if she is,indeed,a witch then it is our duty to put her to death,’ old Balthazar, from the Union of Modern Magicians, called out, shaking with anger within his flapping,white robes. ‘We cannot allow such travesties of nature to exist!’
Jacobs then added to the plan. ‘Lord Lomar knows those landsbetterthan most. The chosen party can meet him at Ghant and, if he has not been successful in saving the Empress and Emperor-to-be, he can guide them into the far east. If he has been successful, then the mission can end there, or they can still continue to take on the witch, if they choose.’
‘It sounds reasonable,’ Ruardin mused, ‘as long as theheiris never at risk. Also, it is about time we took to the offence. We have been so busy shoring up our walls that we have not even considered striking back at their homeland. Is such a plan feasible?’
‘Oh, I am certain of that,’ Celios said resolutely.
‘Then I will handpick a hundred of my best men toset forthat once.’
‘And magicians will be required. They will need to guide the party and assist Lord Samuel. It may even be possible that he will return safely.’
Samuel was not quite happy with the decisions being made about him, but he supposed he would have little choice in the matter anyway.
‘Yes, that would be fine,’ Ruardin added without too much enthusiasm. ‘Then so be it,’ and the golden-armoured man stood. ‘We shall organise this at once. They will leave at dawn. Let us meet again tomorrow to discuss the Empire’s defence. I want all resources put into getting this team away as quickly as possible.’
With that, Chancellor Donovan declared the meeting overand gaveanother whack of his gavel. With the gathering finished, magicians and officials alike left the room, leaving General Ruardin alone with his aides.