The Young Magician

CHAPTER NINE

Samuel looked out over the rolling sea crests. The bitter ocean showered his face with freezing sheets of spray as the ship drove through each heaving wave, one after another. Still, he did not afford himself the luxury of sheltering below deck. Somehow, the discomfort seemed fitting.

He was at least a week behind Ash-it had taken that long for his body to heal enough so he could hold himself atop Jess.

Rudderford’s men had arrived just in time to see Samuel blasted into a shallow digging and buried alive by Ash’s gale spell. They had rescued him as Ash had sped off atop the wagon, bearing his prize away with all haste. They had been wholly amazed when they found Samuel still living, covered in debris and earth. They were even more astounded to see him riding away again a week later, almost as if nothing had happened.

Jess had carried him to the small riverside town of Heathshed, where Samuel had hired a river-barge to carry them both downstream, throwing down a pile of Count Rudderford’s coins to the wide-eyed boatman. The magician’s dark mood brought few questions from the tattered old man, and the slow-flowing river did nothing to soothe the burning hatred in Samuel’s heart.

They had eventually arrived in the port town of New Garlen where, locals said, a great vessel had arrived, like none they had ever seen. It had been enormous, with more sails hanging from the great masts than many of them could count. A strange fellow had then appeared, accompanied by a dozen armed men. They seemed to be guarding some precious thing lashed to his wagon, but no one had been able to get near enough to see what it was. The vessel had bloomed into life and scores of men had hurried ashore in their longboats to help recover the men and their cargo. As soon as they were aboard, the many great sails all rose as one and the ship had surged out from the bay.

It had taken most of Count Rudderford’s purse, but Samuel had finally managed to buy passage for himself and his beast on the only vessel leaving that day and he quickly set out after Ash-for Cintar.

Samuel spent his time looking over the waves and pondering Ash’s strange new form of magic. Never before had he heard of magic being drawn from fluids. The trigger words that sparked the spells were strange and charged with power-which made Samuel suspect they were from the Ancient Lick. If so, it meant Ash had somehow discovered a key to unlocking the lost tongue. Spells born from the Old Tongue or tethered by willpower alone would be of no match. To defeat Ash, Samuel would need to plan carefully. If he could only gain some power of the Ancients for himself, or even learn to control his evasive, terrible outbursts of power, then perhaps he could finally kill the man. Samuel savoured the thought for a moment, envisaging killing his enemy painfully and deliberately, before reality spoiled his delightful diversion. Logic foretold that a methodical and meticulous method would be best. Ash had proved cunning and resourceful in more ways than one, and there was no way to gauge exactly how powerful a magician he was. Chances could not be taken. As it was, the strange purple weaves of his magic tore normal spells to shreds. Samuel did not want any more surprises.

With so much time and so little to do but sit and gaze out to sea, Samuel spent long hours thinking of Leila. He could not help it. He wished he could somehow shut her out of his memory altogether, for the vivid image of her blood-soaked body made him choke with sadness, but he could not. Not even his disciplined magician’s training could stop dreadful thoughts from charging back into him without warning, flooding him with sorrow, overwhelming him. He could not believe she was really gone.

Sometimes, he almost thought he could feel her tender touch against his arm, and would catch himself looking for her, mistaking a sound for her voice, a creak for her steps. His heart ached and the stinging salt mixed freely with his tears on many occasions. The sailors observed his behaviour and kept well to themselves, whispering and muttering about him all the while.

At the tiny island port of Pallem, Samuel changed vessels as the Pride of Jerrod would take him no further north. It took a good deal of persuasion, but Samuel finally managed to gain passage for himself and his horse on a ketch with a shifty-looking crew, called the Southern Bird. The captain was familiar with Cintar and knew of the Order; he gladly accepted Samuel’s payment.

Samuel had considered compelling the man with a spell to grant him passage, for his purse was now emptied. However, it was becoming more evident to Samuel that even the slightest meddling in a person’s mind could have dire consequences. Animals seemed to suffer little ill effect, but human minds required meticulous attention for even the tiniest alteration. Just the act of entering a man’s mind seemed to create a cascade of changes within. The only safe way to alter the thoughts of another was via passive suggestion and that would only work if the subject was not resistant. The magician, Tabbet, had broken those rules within the mind of Count Rudderford, altering the man’s mind in exact and expert ways. Then again, Rudderford had been an extremely simple man. The difficulty of manipulation seemed to rise in direct proportion to the complexity of the mind. Magicians, Samuel postulated, with their lifelong mental training would be nigh on impossible to affect. Samuel sighed and nudged the foot of some railing with the toe of his boot. There were so many facets to magic. He would need the span of several lifetimes to even begin to master them all.

Jess was nervous on the deck as the little ship groaned and rolled, but Samuel soothed her mind with a lullaby and managed to keep her calm. The sailors aboard the Southern Bird seemed to sense something unnatural about Samuel and, as the voyage wore on, the men skirted him with greater girth. They made no attempts to converse with him, but that suited Samuel fine. Work went on around him as if he were a fixture, with the crew throwing dark glances and muttering, even making the occasional gesture to ward off evil. Samuel did not care to dispel their superstitions and, when he was not on deck with Jess, he kept himself locked below in his tiny cabin, scouring through his journals and notes over and over again. He did not really expect to find anything new in those papers, but the act gave him something physical to focus upon. He had seen well enough of the sea already and wanted to be alone with his misery.

The city looked quite different from this vantage point but, as the Southern Bird made harbour, Samuel realised the docks of Cintar had changed little, if any, since he had last seen them. Great, tall ships lay anchored within the sanctuary of the cove. Tiny longboats ferried cargo back and forth from ship to shore, while the smaller craft, such as the Southern Bird, could pull alongside the long stone-and-wood jetties that stuck out from the shore, well beyond the city walls.

Samuel actually felt relief to see Cintar again. He had been at sea for far too long and his stomach had experienced quite enough of sea travel. It had taken about ten days for the tiny bobbing ship to skirt its way along the coast and Samuel had spent more than his fair share of that time leaning over the side.

Men moved all over on the docks, carrying bundles and containers of all forms, while the officials stood ready with handfuls of paperwork. A long, wide plank was pushed from the pier onto the Southern Bird and one such fellow stepped past Samuel to talk with the captain. Samuel urged Jess up onto the dock, pulling her by the reins. Her hooves clattered nervously on the wood, but Samuel finally had her safely up on the pier. He was not entirely sure why he had brought the animal all the way back with him. She had been his companion since he had first left Cintar, so it just seemed fitting that they should return together.

Seeing the crowded confines of the city laid before him, however, brought a worrying thought back to Samuel. It had been foretold by Celios the Seer that he would kill the Emperor and, despite Samuel’s best efforts to escape the place, destiny had found a way to draw him back. He had no intention of even approaching the Emperor, but Samuel had the nagging worry in the back of his mind that perhaps he had no say in whatever destiny had planned for him.

Samuel was still wearing the simple clothes he had grown accustomed to in Tindal, with his black magician’s clothes still folded tightly in his pack. As he led Jess up the steep roads from the docks, he seemed to be seeing the city with fresh eyes. The fashions seemed strange to him now and all the noise and pushing and shoving seemed quite overwhelming. He could imagine nothing more in contrast to his life in Tindal, where, looking down from the goat-spotted hills, he could go days on end barely seeing a soul.

He found his way promptly to the School of Magic, spying more dark clothing and magicians’ robes the closer he came, but many of the faces were unfamiliar. Without a pause, he led his animal through the entrance and was given only a few glances by passing students. He entered the stables, where the apprentices saw to Jess upon his commands, jumping at the tone of his voice. While the boys were tending to her, Samuel stepped into a vacant stall with his pack and quickly changed into his loose-flowing magician’s robes. They would hide his features somewhat and allow him to make his way around the school without attracting attention.

Samuel stuffed his other clothes into his satchel and fastened the buckles.

‘Mind my horse well,’ he told them firmly. ‘Keep my pack up in the cupboard up there.’ They nodded, as he eyed the topmost cabinet.

He left the stable boys to their work and strode out of the stables, feeling strangely awkward in his old mage clothes. The sun shone strongly for a moment as the clouds briefly parted. Returning to the School of Magic brought back many memories. At another time, Samuel would have smiled or laughed aloud, but instead he took a deep breath and started off to find Master Glim.

As he made his way across the grounds, he was astonished to catch sight of a magician he knew very well and he had to run to catch up with the man’s long strides.

‘Lomar!’ Samuel called as he caught up with his friend under the shade of the enormous oak tree that sprung up beside the Great Library. The grey paving stones were all cracked and pushed upwards around the base of the tree and its roots had done similar damage all around.

Lomar stopped and turned around. It took him a moment to recognise Samuel, but then a smile beamed across his face. ‘Samuel,’ he said. ‘You’re back! What a wonderful surprise!’ He then looked around the courtyard for any others. ‘Is it safe for you to be here?’

‘I had to return,’ Samuel said. ‘Let’s go inside so we can talk.’

Inside, the Great Library was dim and deserted. No one had yet drawn open the slatted window shutters to let in the morning light and it was a good sign that no one was there. Still, Samuel drew Lomar into a distant vacant niche at the very rear of the building.

‘I have bad news,’ Samuel spoke in hushed tones, ‘but first, I need to know what has been happening in my absence?’

‘Everything changes and everything stays the same,’ Lomar began. ‘The Magicians’ Council is ever arguing and bickering. There is ever talk of a war that never seems to begin. Lord Matar and some others left the city in disgust. No one has heard any word of them since.’

‘And Ash?’

Lomar raised an eyebrow. ‘Master Ash? I haven’t seen him, but I’ve heard he has returned after some period of absence.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I’ve followed him here from Tindal. He has discovered an ancient relic and returned it here to the city. It is called the Argum Stone.’

‘I have not heard of it. There was some talk of him making some discovery, but I did not pay it much mind. I honestly have been doing my best to ignore the goings-on of the Council.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I’m sure he was sent to find it by the Circle of Eyes. It seems to be another device from the time of the Ancients. I found a few notes mentioning it here in the library and I think Dividian has been researching it as well. I’m sure the two must be collaborating, but I don’t know what they plan to do with it.’

Lomar shook his head with worry. ‘Just what we need,’ he sighed. ‘As if we need even more to concern us.’

‘What of Master Glim? Is he here?’

‘Yes,’ Lomar replied softly, ‘but he is not quite the man he once was. The changes in the school have taken their toll on him. He is not quite his old self without Grand Master Anthem to spur him on.’

Samuel nodded. ‘What of Eric Goodfellow? Where is he?’

‘He’s still here,’ Lomar answered. ‘Together with Eric Pot.’

‘Eric?’ Samuel exclaimed with disbelief. ‘How can that be? I thought he was dead.’

‘He’s alive,’ Lomar corrected.

‘So the spell of travelling was successful? That’s incredible!’

‘It turned out his spell was entirely successful. Eric was transported all the way to his hometown in Reve. It took him a while get back here, but once he did, Dividian set him and Goodfellow straight to work researching the spell. Dividian still hopes to learn the secret of such magic, but so far, they’ve had no luck. It rattled poor Eric quite a bit, so I’m not surprised he has had such trouble repeating it. There was a great fuss made over him when he first returned, but it soon faded away as the months passed without result.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Lomar replied. ‘I was actually looking for them myself just before you found me. Master Glim is giving a class. Perhaps we should go wait in his cottage. From what Goodfellow told me, I think it is not such a good thing if you are seen here.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Samuel noted.

They left the library, Samuel with his hood up, and made for Master Glim’s small residence. A few candles on the wall lit themselves as they entered, despite the room being already bright with sunlight.

‘I see Master Glim is still learning a few things,’ Samuel said and noted the spells involved.

‘He’s had himself buried in research, now that he has little contact with the students,’ explained Lomar. ‘I know he’s trying to make this candle-spell work only at night, but it’s understandably complicated. Wait here and I shall fetch us both something to eat.’

‘If you see either of the Erics, could you let them know that I’m here?’

‘I’ll send word for them to come, but you should know that they are Master Goodfellow and Master Pot now. Their graduation was said to be quite spectacular. They are both highly skilled and will become great magicians of our time, I’m sure.’

‘That’s good news.’

With that, Lomar slipped outside. Samuel sat and waited in Master Glim’s chambers. Like all the magicians’ rooms in the school, it was humble but comfortable, being one single room that served as both bedroom and study. A plush rug lay on the timber floor, helping the room to feel warm. It was a fine piece of work from Western Garteny, where such craftsmanship was supposedly unmatched and Samuel felt guilty treading all over it with his worn old boots. He sat idly awhile and then traversed the room, looking at all Master Glim’s things and peering at the notes spread all over his desk.

Gravelly footsteps sounded outside and Master Glim stepped in through the opening door, followed close behind by Lomar. Master Glim wore a broad smile and offered his hand directly to Samuel. The passing of time had made its mark upon him. Grey hair adorned his temples and a few more wrinkles crept out from the corners of his eyes.

‘Samuel!’ Master Glim said warmly. ‘You leave a boy and return a man! It’s good to see you well again. I only wish you had not left so abruptly. Goodfellow told me of your predicament, but I’m sure we could have found some solution for you.’

‘Unfortunately, I didn’t know whom to trust at the time,’ Samuel said, ‘and the city just seemed like the worst place for me to be.’

Master Glim showed concern. ‘So, it’s true. Tell me what happened.’

‘None of that is really important now,’ Samuel said. ‘In fact, I’m quite glad I left. I would never have returned at all, but for Master Ash. He tried to kill me, and he murdered the girl I was going to marry, so I have returned to Cintar to see him dead.’

‘Marry?’ Master Glim asked incredulously. It surprised Samuel that he would leap onto that fact before even questioning the comment that Master Ash was a murderer. ‘Why would you even think about wedding, Samuel? You know it would be doomed. Magicians cannot be affectionate with women and after only a few more years all thoughts of that nature will be entirely alien to you. You certainly would not be able to bear children and the woman would be disappointed to say the least.’

‘I didn’t ask for it to happen, Master Glim.’ Samuel responded. ‘I’m not sure that the change is happening to me as it should. All my feelings are still intact. I fell in love and I certainly have more than enough hatred and bile and venom left over for Master Ash. I had found a new life in Tindal and Ash took it away once again.’

‘Master Ash?’ Master Glim replied, still mulling the situation over in his head. ‘That man seems to have his fingers in everything.’

‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked.

‘Grand Master Anthem told me you believe it was Ash who killed your family. It is a strange set of coincidences.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I failed to kill Ash before, so I have followed him here. He brought with him an ancient relic, the Argum Stone. I dread it has some malevolent purpose to play in his plans.’

‘This is grave news, Samuel,’ Master Glim said, looking thoughtful, ‘but I do not doubt you. Ash has long been the pet of Lord Jarrod, carrying out all his underhanded instructions. I saw them bring a large relic to the palace, but no mention was made as to its name. It took several days to have it raised inside the High Tower using all manner of ropes and levers and causing quite a fuss. It was a source of some excitement at first, but there has been no further word since then.’

Samuel nodded. ‘It could be cause for great concern, especially if it proves to be an equal for the Staff of Elders,’ he explained, ‘but it needs further research. And there is something else. Ash has found some knowledge of the Ancient Lick. He employs a strange magic with it that I could not overcome. At one time, he also empowered a spell with another man’s blood and somehow has learned to store spells into bottles of fluid.’

‘Blood and fluids?’ Lomar questioned, looking over from where he stood by the curtained window. ‘That is the stuff of myth and hearsay. If such a foul art was ever known, it is lost.’

‘And found again,’ Samuel corrected.

‘Your news gets worse by the minute, Samuel,’ Master Glim stated, rubbing his chin. ‘We will need to look into all of this but, of course, you should keep hidden. If what you have said is true, just about everyone in the city probably wants you dead for one reason or another. Is there anything else you wish to burden us with while you are doing so well?’

‘There is, but first I need to ask you something.’

‘And what’s that?’ Master Glim asked in return.

‘Before I left Cintar, I learned that everyone had been searching for a magician who was destined to kill the Emperor. Everyone had assumed that Eric was the one, but with his apparent death it must have put an end to the idea.’

The brush-browed Master looked deep in thought before responding. ‘When the foretelling of the Emperor’s death became known, it set the Empire ablaze with activity. Everyone began searching for the one who would fit the description, all for their own reasons-some to save the Emperor, some to kill him, some just for fame or power. But, as you know, any translation from the Old Tongue can have many and varied meanings and no magician fitting the prophecy was ever found. When young Eric arrived, however, and he began to move objects with little effort, making them jump from place to place, we were astonished. Such spells should require great power and effort, but to Eric it almost seemed second nature. Somehow, Eric had instinctively found the massive leap of complexity required for such a spell, when no one else could even come close. If he could do that, we thought, who knew what he could accomplish in the future-and we tried to keep his talents hidden. Foolishly, we thought we had succeeded. We hoped that once he had grown and matured he would be a boon to the Order like no other.

‘Can you imagine what it would be like, Samuel, for us to have the ability to be anywhere we wished? Most of our problems could be solved overnight. But he was just a boy and our meddling almost got him killed. Lomar has graciously offered to keep an eye on him, but when Eric first returned, we were dreadfully worried he would not last long. I must admit, that for supposedly learned men, we can be incredibly foolish at times.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel returned. ‘I just wish you had told me something of this before.’

‘That was impossible, Samuel. For this power to fall into the wrong hands would have been disastrous. No one would be safe…anywhere. When you arrived, we were already busy minding Eric. You seemed something of a curiosity-no more-and a stubborn and sometimes arrogant one at that. We were fearful at every moment that the Circle of Eyes might discover Eric and in the end we failed to protect him from himself. Instead of hiding him and distracting him from his natural abilities, we should have focussed on that power and nurtured it. He almost killed himself experimenting with his innate skills and now it seems he has lost that ability forever. At least, I am glad to say, in losing that coveted power he is now safe from the Circle and the likes.’

‘It was someone from the Circle who warned me my life was in danger-a man named Soddan. That’s why I left the city in the first place.’

‘Soddan? I don’t know the name, but that means nothing. You see, Samuel? The Circle is ever-devious. While it may have been in your interest to leave the city then, no doubt it also served some purpose of theirs. They may even have engineered the events leading up to then-it’s not implausible. It does seem like quite a coincidence that you ended up in the same place as Master Ash at the time he was unearthing this relic. Yes…I think there is much more here than we can see on the surface.’

Samuel mulled over the thoughts for a few moments and finally conceded. ‘Very well. I am just so surprised to hear that Eric is alive. All this time I have been thinking he was dead. And what has been happening in the north? I would have thought the war would be well underway by now, but the city seems the same as ever.’

‘That’s not entirely correct. The Garten border has been littered with skirmishes almost every day. The Gartens are at high readiness but the Emperor has not yet committed his full armies. I believe he is not just intent on invading Garteny, but he wants to crush them-a devastating assault that will decimate their forces and be written up in history as one of the great battles of all time. Garteny has never before been defeated and the Emperor’s previous attempts cost him greatly. With all the young magicians Dividian has been readying, that time may nearly be here. Many regiments have already been dispatched with this new breed of battle-ready magician at their side and I feel the time has certainly almost arrived for the great invasion to begin.’

Samuel took a moment to digest everything before speaking up once more. ‘Master Glim, I have one final question. Have you noticed anything unusual about Master Ash?’ Samuel asked.

‘No, not at all,’ the old teacher replied plainly.

‘To me, his presence seems entirely strange,’ Samuel mused. ‘I cannot put my finger on it, but I’m sure there is some foul play at work. Every time I see him I get a distinct feeling that he appears to be something he is not.’

Lomar offered a suggestion. ‘If he is using the dark arts, then perhaps it is affecting his very life energy. I have heard some mention of this, but of course it was only conjecture.’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel said.

‘So,’ Master Glim mused, ‘what do you plan from here?’

‘It’s very simple,’ Samuel stated. ‘I will find Ash and then I will kill him. As for the Emperor and the war and all the rest of it, I could not care less. Since I left Tindal, all I can think about is putting my hands around Ash’s neck and throttling the very life out of him.’

Master Glim shook his head. ‘No, Samuel. Such revenge is foolish. You will be tried for murder and hunted down by the entire Order. You must remember that you also bear the responsibility of the Order, even if you do not want it. You are a magician and nothing can change that. There is much more at stake here than just your personal tragedies, however terrible they may be. The world is speeding towards war. The Order is full of plots and I am growing old and tired of it all. We still must do everything we can to prevent this war. If we fail, then you can still go and throttle Ash as you wish, but if you kill him now it will only make matters more complicated for us. Countless lives are at stake here, Samuel, so please try to think beyond your own vendetta. You are a gifted magician and, with us, you can help us to set some of these wrongs right again.’

‘I must agree, Samuel,’ Lomar added. ‘I know you have your mind set on revenge, but such an act is petty in comparison to what we face. Can you not put aside your vengeance a while longer for the sake of what we stand to lose?’

Samuel was hesitant. ‘Ash killed my mother and father, my sister and all my brothers. Now, he has killed Leila and still, I cannot seem to have my revenge on him.’ He felt bitterness climbing in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down. ‘If anyone has a just cause for revenge, it is me. Can’t I put my family’s memory to rest?’

‘You can, Samuel, but not yet,’ Master Glim told him. ‘Trust me. At present, we three, along with the Erics, represent the only hope of averting the coming war. You can help us, Samuel. Remember that the soldiers from both sides are not playing games. In times of war, terrible things are done by all sides. Their armies will forge a path of destruction wherever they go. Women, children, the old and the invalid, will not be spared. Towns, villages and cities alike will be razed and burnt by the dozen.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel finally agreed. ‘I can see you are right. I will help you, but I promise you, I will kill Ash the moment I get the chance. If you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you keep us apart as best you can.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Samuel,’ Lomar said. ‘I am sure there will be some opportunity for violence ahead. I have no love for Master Ash and if he ends up getting in the way, I will gladly hold him down while you get to work. How does that sound?’

At one time, Samuel would have laughed to see the lanky man making such threats, but recent events and the long sea voyage had drained Samuel’s capacity for mirth. Instead, he nodded glumly.

Master Glim then began to outline his plan. ‘We cannot act openly, but we must find a way to defy the Emperor’s call for the Order’s assistance in the war. For years, the Grand Master managed this by training the students in other areas, actively avoiding spells with such potential for warfare, but now Master Dividian has undone all that good work. There are hundreds more young magicians training even now in camps around the Empire, learning to coordinate with armed troops. The Emperor is only waiting for confirmation from the Council that all is ready. That is where we must strike-in the Magicians’ Council. We must convince those fools to reverse all the foolishness they have wrought-to vote “no confidence” in the Order’s ability to help in the war.’

‘But that has been tried time and time again,’ Lomar noted. ‘The Council, now more than ever, is aligned with the Emperor’s goals.’

‘And we shall follow their example,’ Master Glim explained. ‘We are backed into a corner, gentlemen. We need to get our own members on the Council, and those who don’t see our point of view will need to be removed by any means. Lord Jarrod manipulated the membership of the Council to suit him and we will do the same.’

‘We can’t just begin killing everyone,’ Lomar stated with some concern.

‘No, no-we won’t. The Archmage would simply step in and annul the whole Council altogether if it started getting too messy. We must keep our actions unseen. We must find out who on the Council is still sympathetic to our cause and find ways to convince the others, or, as I said, have them replaced. We don’t need everyone seeing eye-to-eye with us-just enough of them to throw some anarchy into their discussions.’

‘So who on the Council would help us?’ Samuel asked.

‘It’s difficult,’ Master Glim began. ‘Lord Goodwin is really the only one still arguing for reason, but he cannot do much on his own. I feel some of the other councillors would join him, if not for the fact that Jarrod is there. High Lord Rimus is obviously the most influential of them all but, while he is no friend of Lord Jarrod, he is a stout Imperial and would never dare oppose the Emperor’s view. While their causes are allied, like this, we have no chance of succeeding. We need to talk some sense into High Lord Rimus and break Lord Jarrod’s hold on the others.’

‘Rimus is an intelligent man,’ Lomar noted, ‘and he is not actively supportive of the war itself. He understands the effects of such things. We could conceivably bring him to our side if he can be seen to save face with the Emperor. It’s tricky…but possible. Lord Jarrod…I just don’t know.’

Master Glim nodded in understanding.

‘Did you say Lord Goodwin?’ Samuel asked, cutting in. ‘Tulan Goodwin?’

‘Yes,’ Master Glim answered. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Of course, although I would never have thought he would involve himself in such politics, let alone join the High Council. He always seemed uninterested in such things.’

‘I do not know him well,’ Master Glim said, ‘but he seems to have garnered many strong friends within the Order. That is how he gained his place on the Council and how it is that he still remains.’

‘I am sure that Tulan would help us,’ Samuel said. ‘And what of the Archmage? What has he been doing through all this?’

‘He says very little,’ Lomar said, scratching his long neck.

‘He meets with the Magicians’ Council rarely and even then only to settle minor disputes,’ Master Glim explained. ‘He seems to have no interest in the fate of the Order any more. It is said that at the last meeting he attended; someone commented on something he had suggested and he stormed out like an angry child. I cannot begin to conceive what is running through his mind. Seemingly, he has lost it altogether.’

‘I have heard some rumours…’ Lomar began, but trailed off.

‘Oh? Go on,’ Master Glim implored.

‘It is nothing substantial-possibly only wild accusations from those who oppose him-but there are whispers that the Archmage has been consorting with the desert folk, experimenting with their potions and exotic extracts to regain some of the vigour of his youth. It goes further. Some say he has been keeping strange company in his chambers at all hours of the night, but even my sources will dare not say any more.’

‘What kind of company?’ Master Glim asked, but a knock sounded on the door and all eyes moved quickly to it. ‘Who’s there?’ Master Glim then called to those outside.

‘Erics!’ returned the familiar voice of Eric Pot.

‘Come,’ Master Glim instructed and the door creaked in.

Eric Pot entered, beaming with joy upon the sight of Samuel. Eric Goodfellow followed him in, adjusting his rounded spectacles and smiling like a birthday boy himself.

‘Samuel!’ Eric declared. ‘It is wonderful to see you!’

‘Samuel!’ Goodfellow echoed.

Both had matured somewhat, a little taller and broader in general. Samuel threw his arms around them both in turn and laughed with genuine pleasure.

‘I only wish it was under more fortunate circumstances,’ he told them.

‘How is that?’ Eric asked.

Samuel quickly explained the events in Tindal to the newcomers and the conversation he had been having with Master Glim and Lomar.

‘But I fear we may need to do something drastic about Lord Jarrod,’ Master Glim added at the end. ‘I am sure he will not easily be dissuaded. He has been pursuing his own agenda for many years, and now that he has the upper hand, he will fight tooth and claw to keep it that way. I feel all his eagerness to begin this war is only a convenience to get what he wants-a lever for his own means. I am guessing he has his sights set on the Elder Staff and has plans to become the next Archmage.’

‘I agree,’ Lomar said. ‘With the Archmage’s current strange behaviour, Jarrod has already begun sowing the seeds of dissent against him-only very subtly, but I can see that the stage is being set. I would not be surprised if he was responsible for the Archmage’s current state, himself. We must find a way to have Lord Jarrod voted out of the Council.’

‘I still think we should just kill him,’ Samuel suggested. ‘While I’m killing Ash, it won’t be too much of an added inconvenience.’

Goodfellow threw Samuel a doubtful glance. ‘We can’t just kill everyone who disagrees with us, Samuel.’

‘Well, not straight away, anyway,’ Master Glim added with a hint of guilt.

‘What other support can we count upon?’ Eric asked.

‘Precious little, Master Pot,’ Master Glim stated. ‘Unless it looks like we have an overwhelming chance of success, I would not expect support from many magicians at all. Most of our number are now old and frail and they would not like to risk confrontation with any of these hardy new apprentices, let alone face the wrath of the Emperor. As you could well expect, many Turians within the Order are quite happy to let this war progress. It is really only those who were formerly close to Grand Master Anthem to whom we could even dare suggest this plan.’

‘What about if we have Lord Jarrod discredited?’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘As Samuel has said, the relationship between him and Master Ash is well known. If we could prove the connection between Jarrod and all Ash’s dastardly work in Tindal, they would certainly have some questions to answer.’

Master Glim shook his head. ‘Samuel cannot even begin to show his face in Cintar. Lord Jarrod has ensured he will be arrested on sight and all Samuel’s accusations would be worth nothing to them. I doubt we could scrape up enough evidence to convince the Council of anything at this stage.’

‘What about the Argum Stone and their use of black magic?’ Samuel asked. ‘Surely that constitutes some kind of crime.’

Again, Master Glim brushed the suggestion aside. ‘Indeed, it is, the most heinous of crimes at that, but again, it requires proof, of which we don’t have any. If we could catch Master Ash in the act, that would certainly be damning, but I doubt he would be so foolish as to flaunt black spells before the Council. I suggest we begin carefully and make some subtle enquiries with those we know well in the Order. We should also speak to Lord Goodwin to ascertain his position in all this. He will know much more of Council matters than us and may be able to provide a handhold for us to begin our work. He may even know more about this relic that they seem to have hidden away. We can refine our plan from there. I know it sounds like we are dragging our feet but, strictly speaking, we are committing treason by even speaking of such things. It will pay for us to tread carefully, rather than rush in like fools and have our heads cut off before we can open our mouths to object.’

They really had little other choice, so all of them agreed with Master Glim’s plan.

‘Well, I had better be going,’ Master Glim said. ‘I had already arranged to meet Master Celios, so I must hurry before he comes grumbling and looking for me. Eric, please organise a guestroom for Samuel,’- to which Eric nodded.

‘Unfortunately, I must also leave for a prior engagement,’ Lomar stated. ‘Samuel, please stay hidden for the time being. From what you have said, you may not be the most popular magician in Cintar.’

With that, Master Glim and Lomar left the room.

‘Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, ‘it’s honestly so good to see you.’

‘I feel the same,’ Samuel returned. ‘And I heard you have both graduated. It feels so strange to think of you as Masters of the Order.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Eric said. ‘It feels strange for us, too! I still keep expecting Master Sanctus to run up and pull my ear every time I laugh out loud.’

‘And what about your great discovery? Any luck recreating your travelling spell?’

‘Not really,’ Eric replied, ‘but we prefer to call it a Journey Spell, if you please,’ he added cheekily.

‘Actually,’ Goodfellow added, ‘we’ve conducted a lot of research on the matter and formulated mounds of theory, but it still remains little more than that.’

‘Yes,’ Eric added guiltily. We just haven’t been able to actually cast the spell. I don’t know what it was that I did before, but we just can’t seem to recreate it-probably because it scared the willies out of me.’

‘Was it really that bad?’ Samuel asked.

Eric waved his two hands before him. ‘You don’t want to know! It was positively awful. I felt like I was twisting inside out. It only took a moment to arrive in Maidensvale, right in front of my parents’ house and, when I did, I couldn’t stop vomiting for hours. I thought I was delirious. On the bright side, my parents were glad to see me.’

‘I’d be curious to see all your notes,’ Samuel stated. ‘Perhaps later, once we have sorted out all this mess.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Goodfellow began, ‘do you really believe Lord Goodwin will side with us? Having a contact in the Council would be exactly what we need.’

‘Yes, I’m sure he will,’ Samuel replied. ‘I know him very well. In fact, perhaps one of you could contact him today and let him know I am here?’

Goodfellow nodded. ‘Of course. I can go to the palace now; but do you think it’s wise to mention your name, even to him?’

‘I trust him more than almost anyone,’ Samuel replied without hesitation.

Goodfellow left for the palace, while Eric went to organise another room for Samuel. After only a short time, he returned and led Samuel to a small residence only a few buildings away, which was almost identical to Master Glim’s, both inside and out. He also brought some food and a great pile of papers that were just a part of the total sum of their studies upon his Journey Spell.

‘You may as well look over these now,’ he explained to Samuel. ‘It’s not like we are doing anything useful with them and it looks like we may have a lot of time on our hands.’

They looked over the notes and talked long into the afternoon, until Goodfellow returned and announced that Master Goodwin could meet Samuel the very next day. They passed the remainder of the day idly, with Samuel catching up on all the other happenings since he had left the city. While it was only early evening, the two Erics left and Samuel crawled into bed with their notes spread around him. At some stage, he fell asleep and his dreams were, for once, sweet and refreshing, for his visions were of Leila and her sweet and beckoning smile. In the realms of his fantasy, she was still alive and well and everything felt at peace.

About mid-morning of the next day, while the others were busy, Samuel became impatient waiting for his meeting and, despite all the firm warnings he had received, he left the confines of his tiny room. He only had to wait until after lunch to meet Tulan, but his feet had become far too itchy and he felt the need to get out and see some of the old city sights-and he also had a few loose ends he wanted to tie up. He wandered out of his room and through the ghostly school grounds with his hood pulled up around his head. It had been raining hard through the night and was still bucketing down as if it would never stop, and so barely a soul was out to brave the weather. Heading out through the gates, Samuel was not fussed by a little water and he continued into the city proper. He had walked those city streets many times in the past and he knew the whole north-eastern quarter like the back of his hand. The city was so huge, however, that few people knew all of its main streets well, let alone the endless alleyways and crooks and crannies that criss-crossed between them. It was a test of his memory to find the one small doorway he was looking for but, after several wrong turns and a little backtracking through the puddles here and there, he finally found the tiny smoking house where he had last met Soddan.

He pushed through the cloth flap at the entrance and found the place exactly as it was the last time, as if time had not passed at all. Men were sitting around idly, sucking on their long hosed pipes and filling the room with a pungent blue smoke. After only a moment, a fuzzy-haired man came up to Samuel.

‘Can I help you, Good Lord?’ the man asked politely, glancing at the pool of water that was forming at Samuel’s feet. ‘A towel perhaps?’

Samuel pushed back his hood and wiped some of the water from his face. ‘I’m looking for someone. His name is Soddan.’

‘A fitting name,’ the man said light-heartedly, but he continued at once on noticing Samuel’s lack of amusement. ‘Oh, yes. I know him,’ he replied, ‘but I haven’t seen him for quite some time.’

Samuel nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll be going then.’

‘Would you like me to pass him a message?’

‘No, it’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll bump into him eventually.’

With that, Samuel pulled his sodden hood back over his head and left the smoking house. Surprisingly, before he had even reached the end of the street, the rain stopped as if the clouds had abruptly ran dry. Water continued to pour from the roofs and gutters for some time, forming an impressive array of streams and tiny waterfalls that cascaded down onto the glistening streets. Many of the city’s drains had obviously blocked up and some streets had become like rivers. Great ponds lingered in some corners and Samuel had to wade knee-deep in places, with his boots filling up with water and making the going all the more difficult. People were sweeping the rain out their doorsteps and throwing bucketfuls of water out into the streets as they began to clean up.

Before Samuel had even reached halfway back to the school, the sun had begun shining through a few gaps in the clouds and it was almost looking like becoming a decent day. More people had begun to fill the streets and Samuel quickened his stride, hoping to get back to safety before the crowds came out in full force. Several patrols of Royal Guard had begun marching the streets, but they passed by Samuel without even a glance. It came as quite a surprise, however, when he spied a group of black-cloaked magicians coming up one of the slippery streets towards him. What made matters worse was that he recognised the short, stocky shape of Lord Vander at their head.

Samuel decided it was safer to turn around altogether and avoid them, but as he made back up the hill from where he had come, he ran into further trouble. A patrol of guards was spread across the street and they were questioning a clot of Paatin merchants. There were no side streets to slip down, so Samuel stopped in place, caught between the magicians and the soldiers. He looked over his shoulder to see if the magicians were still following. Lord Vander had his head turned and seemed to be arguing with the barrel-chested Lord Hathen at his side. On their farthest left, Samuel was quite alarmed to spy Lord Jarrod. The man’s legs carried him as if he were weightless, for he almost seemed to float along in his boots.

He must have paused a fraction too long, because Lord Hathen raised a hand in Samuel’s direction and began muttering to Vander beside him. Magician’s robes were a convenience at some times, but now they made it near impossible for Samuel to hide amongst the crowd.

‘You, there!’ Hathen began to call up towards him. ‘Stop a moment.’

Samuel acted as if he had not heard, turning his back to the men and starting away. He was terribly bad at looking casual at times like this, and he could not help but hurry a little, hoping to be away from them. They were by no means youngsters, after all, so Samuel just needed a little space and, as soon as he could, he would be off as fast as his feet could carry him. However, he still had to slip past the Royal Guards. Their captain was still engaged in chastising some apologetic hawker, but his men were waiting idly by and seemed on the lookout for anything to remove their boredom.

Samuel changed his steps into long strides, taking as much ground as he could while doing his best to appear unhurried.

‘Hold there!’ Hathen shouted again behind him.

‘Stop there!’ Vander shouted as well. ‘Stop there at once!’

A few of the guards had been attracted by the fuss and the captain had turned from his business to look directly at Samuel. Samuel looked over his shoulder and could see the councillors now puffing and hurrying after him. Only Lord Jarrod seemed unaffected by the exertion and stayed easily beside the other two without breaking his stride, pinning Samuel with his glinting gaze. Their shouts had now attracted the full attention of the Royal Guard and the men now stood attentively as Samuel approached; three agitated old magicians in pursuit. The captain waited there with his hands on his hips, a mix of puzzlement and amusement set on his face.

‘Captain! Stop that man!’ Vander called out through his wheezing.

Samuel was trapped like a rat between the guards and the councillors. ‘Yes, Captain,’ Samuel called out also. ‘Stop that man!’ and he pointed to one of the city folk who just happened to be standing nearby, watching the show. At being singled out and realising that the Royal Guard were now staring straight at him, the man turned about and darted into his house in a panic, slamming the door quickly behind him.

The captain was not fooled, however, and remained waiting patiently. As Samuel reached the guards, he realised he had no other recourse but to run. He burst into a dash and tried to scrape past the men, but they had their arms around him and held him firm as he struggled to wriggle free. Each man had brutish strength and Samuel found his squirming quite futile. They scuffled on the ground a moment before hands had him by the collar and the guards brought him to his feet.

The captain stood before Samuel with a look of great fascination. ‘What do we have here?’ he asked. ‘Magicians chasing magicians? How intriguing.’

Samuel realised he had no choice but to use his magic to escape but, as soon as he began to summon, streaks of magic came flashing in around him and he felt his hold on the ether suddenly severed. He recognised the weaves of Vander and Hathen and together the councillors had succeeded in blocking Samuel from reaching the source. The three councillors then came pushing through the clump of Royal Guards to stand by Samuel. With their hefty physiques, Vander and Hathen had no trouble at all shoving the guards aside, leaving Jarrod to glide in after them.

‘See! I was right!’ Lord Hathen said, striving to catch his breath and looking rather ill. ‘It’s that young troublemaker Samuel. Here! In the city!’

‘By the gods, lad, what are you doing here?’ Vander asked, red-faced and glazed in sweat. ‘You don’t know how much trouble you are in for, young man.’

‘You should not have returned at all,’ Lord Jarrod stated. Samuel was somewhat surprised by the sound of his words, for his voice was surprisingly thin and nasally-rather laughable, in fact, and not at all as menacing as he would have assumed. Samuel had not had any such dreams since he had last left Cintar, but it did confirm to him that the two scheming voices in his head had indeed belonged to Dividian and Jarrod.

‘May I ask what’s happening here, My Lords?’ the captain of the guards asked.

‘Thank you for your assistance, Captain,’ Hathen replied. ‘We’ve had no end of trouble with this young man in the past. We thought he had left the city for good, but now he seems to have had the gall to return. He has some serious questions to answer.’

It was pointless for Samuel to struggle against the men who held him so firmly, and his magic was blocked by the councillors’ spell. Together, their magic was too strong. If he had had his wits about him, he would have called a spell shield into place at first sight of the men. It would have guaranteed a confrontation, but at least he would not have been defenceless.

‘What shall we do with him, then?’ Hathen asked.

‘Perhaps you should just let him go,’ Jarrod said as smoothly as he could. ‘I’m sure he won’t bother us any further.’

‘Release him?’ Vander asked with disbelief. ‘You must be mad! No, we will take him to the Archmage. He asked to see the boy if he ever had the chance.’

At this, Jarrod only smirked.

‘Would you like some assistance?’ the captain asked, still looking quite fascinated by the situation.

‘Thank you, Captain. We certainly would. We don’t want to risk having this good-for-nothing slip away from us. What’s your name, good Captain?’ Hathen asked.

‘Captain Orrell. We’re just heading back to the palace, so I’ll be happy to escort you back.’

‘Very good, Captain. If you would, we need to take this young magician to the palace. If your men can help us, we would be very appreciative. We have the young man’s magic in check, and I’m sure he won’t want to risk upsetting you and catching a blade in his back-would you, young man?’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel replied darkly.

‘And we don’t want the city folk catching sight of such a scene,’ Lord Vander added. ‘It would not be good for the Order.’

The captain nodded to his men and they released Samuel’s numbing arms.

‘Then, if you are returning to the palace, I will go on,’ Lord Jarrod stated. ‘I have other business to attend to. You seem to be managing things here.’

‘Very well, Lord Jarrod,’ Vander said. ‘We will meet again for dinner and speak more of our business then.’

At that, Lord Jarrod strode off and Captain Orrell and his men began escorting Samuel and the two councillors towards the palace. The thought of being dragged before the Archmage was not nearly as disturbing as being left in the presence of Lord Jarrod. Everything about the man made Samuel’s skin crawl. He seemed unnerving, even unnatural. Samuel could have believed him to be some kind of devil or hideous creature disguised as a man-all except for his ridiculous voice, which served to break the illusion completely. It was impossible to imagine any such dark creature sounding so comical. It was no small wonder that Lord Jarrod spoke so little.

Orrell and his men began their task and led Samuel through the streets, parting the growing crowds with their gruff commands. Samuel considered attempting to run several times, but every time he glanced towards a side street or alley, he found Orrell’s men looking back at him gravely and he put the thought aside. Without his magic, he was powerless to escape.

It was not long before they found themselves marching in the shadows of the palace walls, following the compound’s great girth until reaching the mighty, hinged gates that led into the grounds proper.

Despite his time in the city, Samuel had never had the opportunity to truly appreciate the palace itself. It was considered one of the jewels of the world. It could almost be considered an entity in itself and could easily swallow a country town such as Stable Canthem within it, without even touching the sides. Towers shot up like spears to heaven, fortified with engineering and age-old magic that defied explanation. The walls were designed to withstand any assault, even when the city itself had fallen. The sight was awesome and it did make Cintar truly magnificent. With such motivation, it was no small wonder that the Emperor felt so driven to be the ruler of the known world.

Within the gates-themselves titanic constructions-Orrell’s squad marched across the wide grounds and led the way through a number of gates and courtyards until they reached the very base of the Mage Tower. Looking up, the stonework seemed to stretch skywards almost eternally and Samuel could feel the embers of magic that had been driven into the very stones themselves.

‘We shall take our leave from here, if that suits you,’ Captain Orrell suggested, and Vander and Hathen bade the man and his troops thanks before sending them off.

‘Go on!’ Vander ordered. ‘We don’t have all day, boy.’

Samuel proceeded through the tower entrance, where he met the base of a wide set of stone stairs. The tower was quite narrow and completely round in design, so its stairs curled up against the inside walls, stopping occasionally at haphazardly built doors or trapdoors. Wooden beams and struts stuck out from everywhere and the feeling was quite constrictive. For all the impressiveness of the tower from the outside, inside it seemed entirely disorganised, like a patchwork of different ideas and repairs that spanned the centuries.

After climbing many stairs and ascending many levels, Samuel began to realise he had not tired even in the slightest. Hathen and Vander, too, looked fresh and vital, bounding up spryly behind him. There were certainly spells at work and it immediately answered all Samuel’s questions about the practicalities of such tall constructions. Somehow, the builders had forged the tower with spells that would aid those who climbed its heights, making such ascent no more difficult than traversing a flat floor.

Samuel narrowed his eyes as he climbed, trying to ascertain the workings of such spells, but the magic was old and deep and seeped into everything, bar the most recent of additions. All he could guess was that the tower transformed the magic of those within into a subtle Lifting field, assisting them with each step. As such, only magicians would benefit from climbing the tower, which perhaps explained why this had been designated the Mage Tower. Common folk would quickly tire of dragging themselves up and down each day. Samuel immediately began wondering if the other palace towers had any similar such spells in place. The High Tower dwarfed the Mage Tower in all dimensions and, despite his current predicament, he could not help but hope to quench his sudden curiosity.

Finally, just as Samuel was guessing they must be running out of steps, Vander announced just that.

‘Stop here,’ he instructed, pausing before an ancient door. It was simple in design and, as with the rest of the tower, seemed to have been patched up and mended on numerous occasions. ‘We’ll leave you with the Archmage. Don’t try any of your nonsense with him. He won’t take any cheek, so watch your tongue lest you wish to lose it.’

‘And don’t even consider using your magic in there,’ Hathen added, raising a finger at Samuel. ‘You’ve been warned.’

With that, the hefty Hathen and the stocky Vander turned about and started back down the spiral stairs. They had no sooner disappeared from sight when the spell around Samuel vanished along with them.

Samuel waited a few moments, moving his eyes between the stairs and the door in front of him, wondering if he should attempt to escape. He could be out and back to the School of Magic, but then, he assumed that the two burly Lords would come to the same conclusion. They were probably waiting just around the corner or at the base of the tower and, in truth, he had been keen to meet with the enigmatic Archmage since he had first arrived in Cintar as a youth.

There was nothing left for him to do but enter the room. Samuel raised his hand somewhat hesitantly and knocked upon the door, feeling the firm and smooth timber against his knuckles. He could feel a magician waiting on the other side, somewhere inside the room.

‘Enter,’ a muffled voice called aloud.

Samuel turned the handle and pushed the door inwards. Revealed within was a large and rich chamber that filled the whole level of the tower, great and round. Tapestries hung from the walls and statues and carvings lay on ornate pedestals. Various thick rugs and carpets of many and varied colours covered the floor. Fine curtains fluttered and waved beside an outside balcony where the Archmage stood, leaning on the balustrade, drinking from a large goblet while he surveyed the city below. He still wore his bedclothes, worn and grubby, and he had large, furred slippers upon his feet. As he turned to face Samuel, he revealed an unshaven face and grey, matted hair, with ruddy stains like wine around his lips. The Archmage’s aura was quite strong, coursing around him boldly, but it was not nearly as impressive as Samuel imagined that the Archmage of the Order of Magicians would have.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, as Samuel took a step inside the room.

‘Archmage Ordi, I am-’

‘-Samuel. I know who you are, boy! Don’t be impertinent!’ the Archmage said impatiently. ‘I mean what do you want? Why are you causing all this fuss?’ When Samuel did not immediately reply, he sighed. ‘Well, shut the door and stop gawking. Come closer. I trust your return has some meaning. I doubt you would come back to us flippantly, without some good cause, so I’m sure there must be something behind it. Come now. This is your opportunity to clear the air.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Samuel stammered, closing the chamber door behind him and crossing the soft rugs towards the centre of the room. ‘I want to ask you a question, if I may?’

‘You may,’ the Archmage remarked, scratching at his grey-stubbled cheek. ‘But first, you must answer mine. As Archmage, I am privy to a wealth of information, but my sources sometimes leave me wanting. We magicians are a curious bunch, aren’t we? But it is our nature, after all, so I shouldn’t really be surprised. Tell me, what gives you the gall to return to Cintar? Didn’t you realise you would be caught and punished, or had the thought not crossed your mind?’

‘I have something to do here in Cintar,’ Samuel explained.

‘Hmm,’ old Ordi mused. ‘So I have heard. We can get to that later. Tell me then, why did you leave in the first place?’

‘I had to leave. I would have been killed if I’d stayed here.’

‘Killed? What makes you think that?’

‘Lord Jarrod had sent his men to murder me.’

The Archmage chuckled slightly, looking quite amused. ‘How did you come to such a fantastic conclusion? Was it that infernal Grand Master Anthem?’

‘No, it wasn’t him. He wasn’t even here when I left.’

‘Then who was it?’ the Archmage insisted, now lacking all mirth. He looked at Samuel intently.

‘I can’t say,’ Samuel replied hesitantly. ‘I mean, I don’t really know.’

Archmage Ordi paused to smile pleasantly. He took his time and let Samuel stand uncomfortably in the centre of the room while he gazed about his room. Finally, he returned his attention to Samuel with a look of fatherly patience. ‘Let me divulge the sequence of events surrounding your absence, as far as I understand them. Please, correct me if I am wrong.

‘After a string of minor behavioural matters, you commit the considerable offence of defying Master Dividian. The Council then summons you in to see what could be the root of your discontent and immediately you flee without facing your punishment. Several years later, you drag yourself back to Cintar and are caught sneaking around the streets, obviously up to no good as you take flight from authority on sight. You stand before me with all these nonsensical stories and I cannot believe you are that much of a dullard as to believe such things. There must be something you are up to? You must be working with someone? Tell me, what are you doing here? Who is whispering in your ear?’

‘That’s not correct at all,’ Samuel protested.

‘Well, it seems to be the case from all I can see. Everything you are trying to tell me is full of holes. You tell me that Lord Jarrod ordered your death, for nothing more than some rather obnoxious insubordination. You won’t follow instructions from a dignified member of the Order, yet when some mysterious stranger then tells you to flee the city, you do so without hesitation. You beeline directly for the furthest corner of our Empire, and there you just happen to meet Master Ash and, just as he is set to return triumphantly to the capital, you begin interfering with his duties. Either you are intentionally set on sabotaging the good work of the Order or someone has tricked you into it. Which is it? Do you suffer from delusions, my good boy, or are you just eternally stupid?’

‘Ash is a murderer!’ Samuel retorted, but the Archmage raised a firm palm to silence him.

‘Maybe it’s time you grew up a little, my unfortunate lad. Life is not as simple or as convenient as you may imagine. Master Ash has proved himself invaluable time and time again when the Order has truly needed him. I know he can use rather primitive methods, but he always gets the results we need. Sometimes the Order needs to do difficult things and the right men must be found to do these things. The Empire and the Order are paramount in all things, Samuel. You, on the other hand, are inconsequential, yet you choose to believe otherwise and have been causing no end of trouble. Master Ash told me of your conflict, but when you told him that someone from the Circle had sent you, what was he to think? I had already told him to protect our interests there in Tindal with all his ability. Many, many lives depended on his successful return and you dared to endanger that.’

‘Wait!’ Samuel interrupted. ‘I didn’t tell him it was someone from the Circle. He sent his men to kill me!’

‘Let me finish,’ the Archmage stated calmly. ‘When will you realise that you have been fooled, Samuel? The Circle of Eyes is devious and manipulative. They are ever full of lies and deceptions and will stop at nothing to achieve their underhanded work. They convinced you of a conspiracy and made you think that Lord Jarrod is trying to kill you-that Master Ash killed your parents. Don’t you realise how ridiculous that sounds? They send you to the farthest reaches of the Empire, where you happen to meet Master Ash and, of course, you try to kill him to settle your unfortunate history-all as the Circle planned. They have used your ridiculous plans for revenge against you.’

‘It wasn’t like that at all!’ Samuel spat out, desperate to lend some clarity to the discussion.

‘Hold your tongue with me, boy!’ Archmage Ordi hissed. ‘You forget with whom you are speaking!’ The man then took a breath and waited a moment to settle, before continuing with a calm tone of voice once more. ‘Samuel, my boy, listen to me. I understand everything seems logical to you, but believe me for just a few moments. Please try to remember that I have a lifetime of experience with these things, while you have only just begun to learn about the ways of the world. The Circle have many ways of beguiling you-believe me. They can make lies seem like truth, fantasies seem like reality. They have used you as they use everyone and you played right into their hands, nearly at the cost of your own life. They are masters of shadow and deception. That is how they work and they have turned you into a tool of their own manipulation. They used you, Samuel, and that is the simple truth. You are not the first magician to fall victim to their insidious plots and I am certain you will not be the last. I’m sure there are probably others even now that believe the Order and Empire are full of all manner of underhanded schemes.’

‘But what about the Order and the war? Are you trying to tell me that these are actually good decisions?’

A soft groan came from the large bed that filled a good portion of the room. Samuel’s attention was momentarily distracted as he noticed two long lumps under the covers. One rolled over, revealing a swathe of long golden hair. Samuel looked away and tried his best to ignore the sight. There were much more important things to discuss.

‘Of course they are,’ the Archmage said dismissively, and sat himself on a small stool by the bed. He began stroking a short staff that had been leaning against the bed frame. Picking it up with one hand, he began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over its shaft. ‘I know you are an Outlander, Samuel, but by now I would have assumed you would have stopped thinking like one. The Emperor is not a butcher, nor is he a madman. Quite the contrary, he is a leader and a visionary. The lands of Amandia have forever been scourged with wars and conflict; eternally locked in turmoil that has resulted in nothing but death and suffering. Finally, we are within reach of a lasting and decisive peace for all people. The Emperor has a grand and wonderful plan that will unify us all and lasting peace will finally be achieved.’

‘By creating a generation of magicians trained to kill and do battle? It’s against everything the Order stands for.’

‘Quite the opposite,’ the Archmage corrected. ‘It’s exactly what the Order is supposed to do. The Order has always been, and always will be, part of the Turian Empire and, as such, its purpose is to serve the Emperor. I know Grand Master Anthem has been filling everyone’s heads with nonsense to the contrary, but peace and prosperity will never be achieved through his misguided methods. In his greying years, I’m afraid the man has become quite dim-witted. I was so sure that he had come to view the Empire as I do, but he proved to be a true Garten at heart. I’m sure that at this very moment, he is teaching King Otgart’s men every secret we have.’

‘The Grand Master is against violence,’ Samuel stated defiantly. ‘He would never help them to invade Turia.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt you are right, my boy, for he has become quite the pacifist in his old age. He will be teaching them with all haste how to defend themselves when our great forces rain down upon their wretched cities.’

‘But that’s terrible!’ Samuel exclaimed. ‘So many people will be killed. It’s unthinkable!’

‘Samuel,’ Archmage Ordi said calmly, rising from his stool and walking over to face the young man with the aid of his long, polished staff. He looked even more frail as he leaned upon the thing, hunched over and haggard. ‘Don’t you see? We are all only servants of the Empire. This is the final wonderful stage of the Emperor’s plan to unite all Amandia as one glorious nation. The truce after the last war was only a pause-so the Emperor could refresh his troops and reinforce their numbers. Generations of warfare have left their ranks thin. Grand Master Anthem was supposed to train the Order to aid in this final phase, but we learned he was only slowing us down all the while. Instead of giving us the powerful magicians he promised, he deceived the Council with excuses and empty promises, while your heads were filled with nonsense. Meanwhile, the Gartens have been laughing in our faces. It seems they were not fooled by the Emperor’s supposed truce and have been building up vast armies of their own. Now, however, this is all moot and no amount of men on either side will decide this war. We now have in our possession the tool to wipe the Garten forces aside like bugs.’ As he spoke, he looked straight through Samuel, as if preoccupied with visions of glory.

Samuel’s mouth fell open. ‘The Argum Stone.’

The Archmage seemed pleased and refocussed his gaze on the youth before him. ‘So you do have some sense, after all.’

‘Then it’s true. It does have some great power and you’ve found a way to awaken it. You’re going to use it against the Gartens.’

‘Yes, Samuel!’ the Archmage told him passionately, ‘but we have not quite mastered its workings as yet. When we do, we will finally have a tool that will make all warfare obsolete. No one will stand against it. Walls and cities will fall asunder. Armies will be flattened and swept aside. We will conquer the Gartens easily and no one will dare revolt or plot against the Empire again. Peace will reign.’

‘But that’s terrible,’ Samuel declared, aghast. ‘How can you agree with something like this? The Emperor is just a tyrant!’

Ordi’s patience again looked strained, but he managed to remain composed. ‘Tell me, Samuel, what can you tell me about this device? What do you know about it?’

‘Almost nothing that I’m sure you do not already know. Even if I did, I would not share such things with you.’

The Archmage sighed and took another moment to survey the room. He stood straight-he would have been quite tall and athletic in his youth-and took his weight from his staff. ‘Very well. Then you are of no use to me,’ he said, showing a thin smile, more forced than genuine. ‘I was hoping you would come to your senses, but I see Anthem’s nonsense and the Circle’s deceptions have left you addle-headed. As you are, you are far too dangerous to be left to your own devices-far too dangerous. I have one last question for you, Samuel, and then our meeting will be at an end. Tell me, why do you think that Lord Jarrod wanted you killed? What did the mysterious representative of the Circle tell you to bring you under his spell?’

‘They said there was a belief that I would do something…something no other magician was capable of doing.’

‘Yes,’ Archmage Ordi said with interest, almost leaning in towards Samuel to have the answer. ‘Tell me what that was?’

‘That I would kill the Emperor.’

The Archmage’s smile return. ‘That’s all I wanted to hear.’

With that, the Archmage raised his staff and it blazed with silver-hewn magic. Instinctively, Samuel began to form a spell shield, but the power of the staff shredded his weaves to nothing and slammed into him like the weight of a toppling wall of bricks. Samuel’s breath was pulled from his lungs and his mind was overwhelmed by foreign magic, leaving him devoid of logical thought. All became black and silent and numb and deep.

Samuel awoke. He was lying on a single blanket that was spread out upon the floor. He turned his head and knew immediately that he was a prisoner, for there were bars in the small window above him. A tiny room surrounded him, with a thick, handleless door set into the wall. He climbed to his feet and examined it, but there were no edges to grip and there was certainly no obvious way to open it. He readied to cast a spell and was horrified to feel that he was blocked from reaching the source. This could only mean one thing. He was inside the Mage Cell-a tiny prison used to confine magicians. It had been built and laced with countless, powerful spells by the first Magicians’ Council. While within its walls, a magician could not summon at all. Samuel went cold with dread. Try as he might, his attempts to reach the source were futile.

He turned and looked out the window. The palace grounds were far below, and beyond lay the throbbing city. The open spaces of the School of Magic could just be seen to the north-east, standing out amongst the tall walls and narrow streets around it. There, his friends would be missing him by now. At least, he hoped so. He damned himself for venturing out alone into the city and only hoped someone would find a way to save him before he met some awful end.

His head still ached terribly. He had been foolish not to recognise the Staff of Elders, and its magic had overcome him instantly. The power within it had been awesome. It would take more magic than any one magician possessed to even begin to match it; perhaps even many magicians. It seemed that the Argum Stone was still holding onto its secrets, but once awoken, it meant there would be two formidable vessels of power in the land. At present, it seemed that the Archmage was the one pulling the strings, but such things could change quickly and there would surely be parties envious of such power waiting in the wings. Whoever possessed both ancient relics would be a force beyond reckoning.

A simple meal, pushed through the space beneath the door, was brought to Samuel as dusk settled. He ate some of the thick and tasteless porridge and then threw the tray into the corner with disdain. The night was long and cold and he awoke from nightmares throughout, shivering and pulling his blanket around himself tighter. He still wore his robes, with the hood pulled up around his head, but the chill air seemed to penetrate everything and his clothes were still damp from his adventures in the rain. He tried to spell himself warm, but the ether was utterly unreachable. Samuel rolled over to face the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest and hoped that the dawn would come soon.

It was still dark when a bolt was drawn with a resounding clank and the cell door creaked inwards.

‘Samuel?’ came a questing voice.

‘Who is it?’ Samuel asked, sitting up as the hooded figure waited in the doorway.

‘It is I. Come, we must quickly be away.’

Samuel stood, untangling himself from his thin blanket and peered closely at his rescuer. ‘Tulan!’ he exclaimed as the figure became discernible in the dark.

Tulan put his finger to his lips, signalling for quiet and Samuel immediately nodded in understanding. The moustached magician stepped aside and Samuel followed him into the short dim corridor. The sweet tang of magic came immediately rushing back as Samuel passed over the threshold. He spelled away the cold and discomfort that had seeped into his bones over the night and at once felt like a man born anew.

Several guards lay immobile on the floor. They were awake, but held tight in a cocoon of spells, unable to move, see or hear.

‘I must admit, I was surprised to hear you had returned to Cintar,’ Tulan said in hushed tones as they stepped through a second door and began down the many stairs of the Mage Tower. ‘But I was more surprised to learn you ventured out so foolishly. You’re only lucky that the Archmage decided to lock you up. He must have further plans for you, given that he could have just killed you on the spot.’

‘I owe you my thanks,’ Samuel returned. ‘When we’re good and safe I will tell you everything. Now, how will we get out of here?’

‘I can’t risk being seen with you and I only have a scant few moments to spare. You will have to make through the kitchens and find your way out the palace gates. I have a friend waiting there, a short fellow with a green cap. You can’t miss him. He will lead you somewhere safe, but it’s better you don’t speak with him. Once safe, don’t show your face outdoors for any reason. I will send word of your whereabouts to your friend, Master Goodfellow. Keep hidden. If you pass any magicians in the street, don’t panic and run away like a madman this time. You have some time up your sleeve before your escape will be discovered, but you should certainly not dally.’

Samuel made an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll try to remember that. No one has escaped from the Mage Cell in a long time, as far as I have heard,’ Samuel said, ‘so I expect it will cause quite a stir.’

‘No one has been put in the Mage Cell for a long time,’ Tulan corrected. ‘And, yes, the Archmage will stop at nothing once he finds that you have escaped.’ Tulan stopped as they reached the base of the tower. ‘Now, you go on ahead. This is where I must leave you. There is one more thing. If you are discovered, no matter what happens, don’t mention my involvement. I have a lot to risk over this-more than you could know.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel said.

‘It’s very important. Tell them you overcame the cell guard yourself-tell them anything, but don’t tell them about me. It is only because we are good friends that I dared to help you at all.’

Samuel nodded again. ‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Very well,’ Tulan said, looking over his shoulder nervously. He went to walk away, but stopped once more. ‘You should leave the city at once. Go back to wherever you have been, for your own sake, Samuel. It is far too dangerous for you here.’ Then he afforded himself the luxury of a smile. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ With that, he quickly strode down the side passage and away.

Escaping the palace was surprisingly simple. Once he neared the kitchens, Samuel began meeting more and more palace staff, but no one paid him more attention than a ‘My Lord’ or a quick curtsey as they hurried on with their duties. Even when he passed through the kitchens themselves, where teams of burly cooks with stained aprons were sweating over pots and chopping boards, he was afforded barely more than a glance.

Once out through the kitchen entrance and into the gardens, Samuel thought he should make his pace seem less hurried, and tried to adopt some kind of elongated stroll. It seemed to achieve at least some of the desired effect, for he managed to pass a squad of marching guards without incident. He stepped directly out through the palace gates and stood momentarily on the street, looking about for Tulan’s friend. He did spy quite a short man standing some distance away, wearing a tight green cap and leaning idly against a wall. He looked vaguely familiar. Still, seemed to be the only one fitting Tulan’s description, so Samuel decided he must be the one. Stopping just short of the man, Samuel cleared his throat. The fellow glanced up and, remembering Tulan’s advice not to speak with him, and not knowing what else to do, Samuel gave his friendliest smile.

The man showed no hint of recognition, but began away at once. Samuel hesitated a moment, at first wondering if there were some mistake, but then he realised that Tulan’s friend was only trying to maintain some secrecy. He started after the man, keeping some pepper in his stride just to keep up. They weaved through half the city like that, with Samuel often needing to bob his head above the crowds just to keep track of the man’s green cap. It was no help that the man was really quite short and often vanished for long periods amongst the throngs of people.

Finally, long after Samuel had begun again wondering if this was even the right man or not, the fellow stepped aside into the entrance of a dilapidated-looking building. Samuel paused a moment in the doorway, then started up the short stairs after him. The green-capped man was waiting at the top of the first flight of creaking old stairs and, as Samuel neared him, he reached over and opened the door beside him. Without so much as a word, he squeezed past Samuel, went back down the stairs and disappeared back into the street.

Samuel guessed he was supposed to wait inside, so he poked his head through the doorway. Inside was a featureless, single room. To the rear, Samuel could see a small squatting chamber with a low open window, built above the outside gutter. There was also a table, having only three and a half of its four legs and two aged chairs. Otherwise, the room was empty. With some trepidation, Samuel stepped inside and pushed the door back shut behind him. There were a couple of iron brackets on each side of the doorframe, and a length of wood leaning beside it, which Samuel put into place, barring the door from opening.

He poked around the room for a while, but, aside from the table, chairs and toilet, there was little else to investigate. He only hoped the others would come and find him sometime soon. It was not too different from his cell-small and confining-but at least here he could still feel his magic. From out of the window he could see the palace towers jutting into the sky, just visible through the haze and smoke of the city. In one of them, his escape had probably already been discovered.

Samuel stayed alone in the small room all day. He occasionally peered carefully out from the window. One time, he saw several black-cloaked magicians pushing determinedly through the crowds. Whether they sought him or not, he could not tell, but it was better not to take any chances-he kept his head well inside from that point on. Eventually, however, being overcome by hunger, Samuel had to creep outside to fetch himself something to eat and drink. He kept his eye out for magicians all the while and only felt safe once he had scurried back up the stairs and had his door barred firmly shut once again.

After a long day of uneventful waiting and a long night of trying to sleep on the rough floorboards, Samuel was roused by a soft tapping at the door. He rolled to his feet as softly as he could and tiptoed to the door. Again, the tapping sounded and a soft voice called, ‘Hello? Anyone in there?’

‘Eric?’ Samuel asked back through the door. His own voice sounded thin and strained from the lack of sleep.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ came the reply and Samuel quickly lifted the bar from the door and opened it. He was greeted by the grinning face of Eric Goodfellow dressed in commoner’s garb.

‘Eric! What are you doing here?’ Samuel asked.

‘I’ve come to join you,’ Goodfellow replied, stepping in past Samuel and shutting the door quickly behind. ‘Lord Goodwin sent word that you had escaped. You wouldn’t believe how much trouble you’ve caused! You’d think you had stolen the Emperor’s crown itself from all the kerfuffle outside. The Archmage has set the whole Order into a frenzy to find you. They came asking questions yesterday, trying to find you or your accomplice. Lord Goodwin said the palace itself had been turned upside down. It was obvious they would not stop harassing everyone until they found whoever helped you escape, so I decided to become him. Once I am reported missing, they will have their accessory and lessen their focus on everyone else-or so I hope.’

‘But how did you find me?’ Samuel asked.

‘Oh,’ Goodfellow responded. ‘This friend of Lord Goodwin’s led me here. A strange chap. Very quiet.’

‘Ah,’ Samuel said. He was still unused to hearing Tulan referred to as Lord Goodwin. The title seemed to sit so strangely on the man whom Samuel knew best for travelling the countryside and belittling the establishment. ‘But you have resigned yourself to my fate, should we be caught,’ Samuel noted. ‘Who knows what they will do to us if they find us.’

‘Yes,’ Goodfellow admitted, nodding, ‘but I believe it will make our overall task easier. The others will be able to act more freely.’

Samuel conceded and they sat at the wobbly table.

‘We may have to do something about this room when we get the chance,’ Goodfellow noted. ‘This is appalling.’

‘Or get some blankets, at least. I froze half to death last night.’

‘How did you come by this place?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘Tulan’s man led me here. I have no idea what he is doing with such a place,’ Samuel admitted, ‘but I’m assuming we are free to use it. I’ll remember to ask him next time, but I’m not sure we’ll even get an answer.’

‘So, what happened when you saw the Archmage?’ Goodfellow asked, brushing his sandy hair from his eyes. ‘I take it all did not go well, judging from the fact he threw you in the Mage Cell.’

‘He accused me of being a traitor,’ Samuel began. ‘He said everything was happening for the good of the Empire and that Grand Master Anthem was a traitor, too, for resisting their efforts to go to war. They’re planning a full invasion of Garteny and the Order is pivotal in providing victory over King Otgart’s forces-at least, it was before Ash returned with the Argum Stone.’

‘And I assume you didn’t tell him you appreciated his idea?’

Samuel laughed. ‘That’s right. Before I knew it, he used the Staff of Elders to knock me senseless. When I woke up, I was in the Mage Cell.’

‘Is it true what they say about the Mage Cell-that you can’t use magic at all?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘It’s worse,’ Samuel confirmed, a shudder tickling his spine. ‘Not only can you not use magic, you can barely feel it. It made me feel so lost and hopeless. I hope I never see that wretched place again.’

‘Do you think we’re safe here?’ Goodfellow asked, glancing towards the window.

‘Well, they won’t be able to find me,’ Samuel said. ‘Nobody can-but now you’re here we may have to think of something. In a way, this room is well chosen, as the sheer number of people outside will help conceal any magician’s presence. You even surprised me just now. Given time, however, they may be able to find us. We may have to ask Master Glim or Lomar if they know any good concealment spells.’

Goodfellow nodded and leaned back in his rickety chair. He looked to all the corners of the room, and at the sorry-looking excuse for a privy that opened up over the rear alleyway. ‘So…what do we do?’ he finally asked.

‘We need to wait until we can speak with Tulan. Perhaps he will have some idea of what to do. The Archmage said the war is inevitable now and that they will use the Argum Stone to ensure victory.’

‘Is it truly that powerful?’

‘So the Archmage seems to believe,’ Samuel replied, ‘but I have no idea what it can actually do. All I know is that it could negate my spells entirely. Perhaps they can find some way to harness that power, or perhaps they have some other use for it entirely.’

Goodfellow sneaked out later that day and returned holding a basket with enough food and water to last them a few days, plus a small satchel containing some common clothes for Samuel, which he promptly changed into. It was another day later, after almost insufferable boredom, when another knock sounded on the door and Samuel felt a familiar presence on the other side.

‘It’s Tulan,’ called a voice from outside, just as Goodfellow was beginning to panic. ‘Open the door.’

They promptly let him in, surprised to see that even he was dressed in common clothes.

‘We cannot afford to let anyone notice magicians coming and going from here,’ Tulan mentioned on noting their glances. ‘It’s quite some trouble to find some place to secretly change clothes so I won’t be able to come here very often in the future, if at all. You’ve made things much more difficult for me, Samuel. And I see that you have ignored my advice to leave entirely.’

‘Are you aware that the Emperor is preparing to invade Garteny?’ Samuel asked.

‘Of course I am. Why else do you think I’m here? My life was once relatively carefree and even occasionally enjoyable. Now I’m eternally locked up in meetings and discussions and doing things I vowed I’d never do again-all in a vain attempt to stop exactly that.’

‘We had all heard the rumours,’ Goodfellow spoke, ‘but we originally understood the Gartens were set to invade the Empire, not the other way around.’

‘That’s what the Emperor wanted you to think,’ Tulan explained. ‘The average Turian would have no problem whatsoever with the Emperor going to war, but the territories are another matter. He learned the hard way that the outlands must be carefully managed if they are not to fall back into disarray. A sudden return to war could bring disquiet and opportunity for rebellion to the territories, so better to make it seem like a defensive action. Once the invasion begins in full, he will proclaim that Garteny is a rogue state and must be conquered once and for all. Then, the Emperor can do as he wishes.’

‘That’s horrid,’ Goodfellow stated.

‘Of course it is,’ Tulan responded, ‘but it’s also very clever. That’s what politics is all about.’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ Samuel asked.

‘There’s not much I can do,’ Tulan replied, ‘as it’s difficult. There are some on the Council who secretly do not favour the Emperor’s plans, but do not dare say so. The Emperor is all-powerful. No one can tell him what he can and cannot do. All we can do is make gentle suggestions.’

‘Could the Magicians’ Council just refuse to grant the Order’s assistance?’

Tulan laughed and shook his head. ‘Certainly not! That would be the end of us! We exist by the pure grace of the Emperor. One word from him and the Order vanishes. It’s only while we are useful to him that the Order can exist at all. That is why I have been progressing with the utmost care. Given enough time, I am hoping to turn this situation around, but all this sudden commotion is the last thing I need at the moment.’

‘What about the Archmage? Doesn’t he have any leverage?’ Goodfellow questioned.

‘He’s more intent on the war than anyone.’

‘So I have learned,’ Samuel noted.

‘But it doesn’t matter now,’ Tulan then stated. ‘Despite Master Dividian’s best efforts, it looks as though he has not been able to ready enough new magicians to support the Emperor’s armies. The Council has been debating the matter every day for long months, and it finally seems that the Emperor is rescinding his request for the Order’s assistance in battle. Today he told us we are no longer needed.’

‘Do you mean it?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘Does that mean it’s all over?’

‘Yes, of course. So there’s no need to be making so much trouble. If you give it some time, I’m sure you will see the Order returning to its old self soon enough.’

‘So the Emperor no longer wants magicians to go to battle?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.

‘That’s what I’ve heard,’ Tulan said.

‘And the invasion of Garteny is truly cancelled?’

‘The Emperor’s forces can’t hope to assail the fortified Garten cities. The Order’s assistance was the pivotal point of his invasion plan. I can’t see how any war could go ahead at this point. Turian losses would be extreme. No magic equals no invasion.’

‘What I’m asking is, are you sure about it? I mean, are the troops all packing up and going home, or are they still massing along the border?’

Tulan looked confounded. ‘Well…I don’t know. It just seemed obvious that the invasion can’t go ahead. Garten defences are just too strong. That’s what has been stopping it all these years. The Emperor will just have to come up with some other plan, or give up for good.’

‘Oh. Then we may still have a problem. While I was in Tindal, I met Master Ash,’ Samuel began to explain, ‘and he had unearthed an ancient artefact called the Argum Stone.’

‘Yes, I heard something about it,’ Tulan admitted. ‘They put it in the High Tower. I thought it was just some old relic.’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel continued. ‘I believe it is a source of magic from the time of the Ancients and the Archmage believes the same. I think you’ll find the Emperor now has the advantage he needs to break the Gartens. When I spoke to the Archmage, he seemed quite confident that the war was going ahead and I don’t think he cares if the Order lends their assistance or not.’

Tulan’s smile began to falter. ‘So what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying this relic, the Argum Stone, could potentially be powerful enough that the Emperor doesn’t need the Order’s help any more. In fact, I think he’s painfully aware of how problematic the Order can be and has decided it may be better to do without us altogether. With the Argum Stone and the Staff of Elders together, who knows what the Archmage could achieve?’

Tulan’s jaw literally dropped open. He stood and began pacing up and down the small room, rubbing at his eyes. ‘Hell’s bells, this is worse news than I could have feared,’ he stated. He stopped and looked to Samuel and Goodfellow, his eyes already red-rimmed from all the rubbing. He looked suddenly devastated. ‘I can’t believe it. I was foolish to think we had won so easily. What can I do now?’

‘There’s no need to panic,’ Samuel urged him. ‘Not yet. As far as we know, the Argum Stone is still locked up inside the High Tower. The Archmage has not figured out its workings, so we still may have time. From what I understand, the Argum Stone will need to be properly readied before it can be used at all. I suspect this has not happened yet. At the very least, I suspect that if such a powerful object was used in earnest, we magicians would feel it.’

‘Yes. Perhaps, you are right. Samuel, I need to find out more about this Argum Stone. What else do you know?’

‘That’s all,’ Samuel admitted. ‘The thing is immune to magical effect, but even that could be because the object is in a dormant state. Once awakened, it could potentially be another Staff of Elders. All this is only suspicion. I would need some time with the thing and we need more information. We should search the Great Library, or seek advice from the most learned of the Order.’

‘No. You two can’t risk going to the School of Magic. It’s being closely watched.’

‘So what, then?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘If they haven’t been able to awaken the Argum Stone by now, I’m sure they are hastily working on it,’ Samuel mused. ‘Ash seems to have some knowledge of the Ancient Lick, so I would guess he is the one doing most of the work. Somewhere he has found some information about the Ancients that no one else has come upon or he wouldn’t have found the thing in the first place. The only way to stop the war now is to stop them from unlocking the dormant power of that relic, or else to steal it away from them altogether.’

‘Lord Jarrod has just left the city this morning,’ Tulan stated. ‘Some say he has returned to Hammenton. There was once a small magic school there, but it was closed some time ago and converted into a retreat for research and transcription of the most ancient texts. Lord Jarrod runs the place. It’s possible he has returned there to unearth such information as you suggest.’

‘It’s possible,’ Samuel agreed. ‘If only the Grand Master were here. I’m sure he would be able to help us.’

‘Anthem?’ Tulan queried.

‘Yes. I’m sure he would know something.’

‘Very well. I will try to contact him.’

‘Contact him?’ Samuel asked with disbelief. ‘In Garteny?’

‘Oh, no. He’s not in Garteny,’ Tulan responded. ‘He never would have gone there and I doubt King Otgart would let him return in any account. He’s not far away at all, on the isle of Dunbar, where he can keep an eye on the city.’

‘He is? How do you know?’

‘You can’t spend as much time on the road as I have without getting to know some people, Samuel. Anthem is quite good at remaining hidden, but not perfect. Eventually, word of his hiding place made its way through my network of contacts to me.’

Samuel laughed. ‘Wonderful! Could he get here soon?’

‘Yes, he could be here in a few days-if he wanted to. It’s very dangerous for him now. He has made a great enemy of the Archmage. There is quite a decent price on his head.’

‘The Archmage would do that?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘Certainly,’ Tulan replied. ‘And often has. The Order has its own secret members who do all the Archmage’s dirty work; hired killers, thieves, assassins-even magicians.’

‘People like Ash,’ Samuel noted sourly.

Tulan nodded. ‘Exactly, and much worse.’

‘I’m sure he will come,’ Samuel asserted. ‘The Grand Master would jump at the chance to stop this war.’

‘As you say,’ Tulan responded. ‘I will try to get word to him, but I do not know him as well as you do. He will either come or he won’t. I guess it’s up to him.’

‘But we should search the Great Library in the meantime. The chances are slim, but we may find something useful there. Any information on the relic could prove useful.’

‘If we can get word to Eric Pot, he can go there without raising suspicions,’ Goodfellow suggested.

‘Your friend?’ Tulan asked. ‘Yes, that will have to do. I will send word to him at once.’

‘With your green-capped friend?’ Goodfellow enquired.

‘That’s right. He’s quite the useful sort.’

‘You seem to have some secrets of your own, Lord Goodwin,’ Samuel noted. ‘Perhaps, one day, you will have to explain all your secretive associates and safehouses to us.’

‘Perhaps,’ Tulan replied, ‘but not too soon. When this is all done. Now we have much to do. I will send further word when it is safe to meet again. Let us hope we have some time before the relic can be used. We must stop this war at all costs.’ He looked grim at the thought. ‘Otherwise many good lives will be lost.’

With that, they bade each other goodbye and Tulan slipped out the door.

‘Lord Goodwin seems to be an interesting fellow,’ Goodfellow noted.

‘So I am beginning to learn,’ Samuel replied, ‘but also I trust him. I trust him like a brother.’

And they waited in their tiny hideaway, with little else to do but talk as the hours passed slowly by.

Samuel soon grew restless. He dared not practise his spells for fear of being discovered and so he resigned himself to sitting with Goodfellow in the tiny room, and jotting down his thoughts and ideas about the Argum Stone. Often he thought of the Downs and the wonderfully simple life he had lived there in far Tindal. If only he was there still, safe and perfectly happy. Leila’s death had put an end to all that, of course. That life had died with her, but at least he would see her death avenged.

The next day came and went without any word from Tulan or Eric and Samuel declared that he could wait no longer. The confinement of the tiny safehouse was becoming torture.

Goodfellow gave him a critical stare. ‘It would be more sensible to stay here, Samuel. The others are competent. Going outside only brings opportunity for disaster.’

Samuel stamped around the room, thumping the rickety, old table with his fist. ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing! At any moment, Ash could unlock the power of the Argum Stone and we’re sitting here idle!’

Goodfellow stood slowly and faced his impatient friend. He brushed the hair from his own eyes before placing his hands firmly on Samuel’s shoulders. ‘Listen. What can you do? What can you possibly do that the others aren’t doing already? I’m sure Eric or Master Glim will contact us when we are needed. Listen to reason. If you are caught again, everything is lost.’

‘If there’s a slim chance, I have to take it,’ Samuel said, ‘or else I’ll go crazy waiting in here.’

‘Very well,’ Goodfellow said, giving in and sitting back down at the rickety table and returning his gaze to his writings. ‘It’s your choice. Just be careful and try to be back before the others find out.’

The hooded mage strode across the school grounds, rubbing his hands together briskly in the mist, with puffs of vapour streaming from his mouth with each breath. The night was freezing cold, and so it was not surprising for this magician to head directly for the Great Library, head down in solemn thought. It was not considered unusual for a mage, awoken by some sudden nagging puzzlement or notion, to pursue his curiosity at such an hour. Magicians were considered quite peculiar by common folk. Many were considered peculiar by each other. It came from years of questioning existence and the universe, from bending the common laws of nature with the mere will and, as some said, living with only the company of other such-minded men.

The mage lifted a sleeved arm to the great doors, pushed one open and stepped in. Once again, the school grounds were dark, cold and empty.

Samuel closed the large door behind him, glad to put an end to the cold wind that was blowing outside. He turned his attention towards the rows of shelves. No one was visible, but the fact that many lamps were still lit, meant that someone else was probably still here, reading quietly in some dim aisle. He went directly for the cellar stairs and each old wooden step groaned as it begrudgingly took his weight. Somewhere above, in the perfect quiet, a page turned and a nose sniffed. Such sounds had a strange way of carrying in the old library, especially in the dead of night.

It was midnight-black and as cold as a mountain river down in the cellar. A bluish sphere of light bloomed into life above Samuel’s shoulder and he glared at it, still rubbing his palms together for warmth, until it became a yellow-white hue more suitable for reading. Many magicians could not seem to maintain a spell and concentrate on their research as well, and so the pillars were periodically lined with shelves for the placing of lanterns. Samuel was no common magician and such a task was simple for him. Then again, even the most agile of acrobats sometimes stumble. Samuel tried momentarily to warm himself with a spell, but the skill, as basic as it was, eluded him-he blamed his nerves. Instead, Samuel pulled his robes tighter and began down the nearest aisle.

He made for the furthest recesses of the cellar, where shelves of untitled articles stretched up towards the ceiling. He calculated that here, among these thousands of various notes, crumpled papers and coverless books, he might find something of what he sought-some hint of the Lick of the Ancients or some unfound secrets of the Argum Stone.

Damn this freezing hole! he thought to himself and began looking through the wads of papers. And damn you, Ash, for ruining my life!

Samuel estimated that it must be nearly dawn and he had still not found one scrap of useful information. He had scoured many aisles and countless recesses, looking high atop shelves and into narrow crannies and behind massive leather-bound journals, but could find nothing even remotely applicable to their cause. In the past, he would have found some articles intriguing, but now, he had no time to enjoy them and returned each unwanted piece quickly to its place.

As he rubbed his sore eyes and the sphere of light waned above his head, Samuel decided enough was enough. It was time to get some sleep.

The sound of the huge doors booming shut echoed like thunder from above, followed by the voices of several men. He let his mage-light vanish and made through the darkness for the small shard of light that shone down the stairs from above. He carefully climbed the creaking wood and spied two old men standing there, chatting idly. Samuel knew their faces, but their names evaded him for the time being. They had their backs to him as they began wandering between the shelves with lanterns in their hands.

Taking his opportunity to depart, Samuel tiptoed to the great doors, tugged one open, and stepped once again outside. He rubbed his weary eyes and peered towards the morning sun, creeping up above the rooftops to the far east. The early morning sounds of the city were washing over the walls, along with the crows of roosters and the barking of dogs. Several magicians were already strolling across the grounds, coughing and hugging their clothes about themselves and Samuel remembered his own hood, quickly pulling it up over his head.

He started for the school gates, glancing left and right for anyone who may recognise him, but there was no one. The city streets outside were quickly filling with all kinds-merchants and tradesmen, farmers and children, beggars and thieves…all kinds. He wove between them all deftly, his mind still set on the matter of the books. It seemed that Goodfellow had been correct. His search had been fruitless, but at least he now felt better for trying. It seemed any books with even the slightest mention of the Ancients had been removed from the Great Library, but it did give Samuel the beginnings of an idea. The books were not in the Great Library, but they must be somewhere. The key to awakening the Argum Stone could lie in any one of those books, so for Ash to learn those secrets, he would have to study the books closely; somewhere nearby, somewhere convenient so he could test his discoveries. The best place for this would be there-in the High Tower with the Argum Stone itself. Somewhere in that chamber, or very near it, Samuel was sure that Ash would be hoarding all the books that had disappeared from the Great Library.

Samuel smiled and darted between two carts. His night had been a failure, but at least, with the dawn, he had found a fragment of hope.

Goodfellow was awake when Samuel returned, and he was looking out the window at the morning crowds.

‘Master Glim came,’ he said, throwing a glance back at Samuel.

‘Oh? And what news?’ Samuel asked with interest.

‘They said they have been scouring the Great Library from top to bottom, but without any success. Also, he says he has heard nothing from Grand Master Anthem.’

‘Perhaps he will not return, after all.’

‘The Grand Master has to be very careful not to be seen, so I’m sure it’s taking him longer. So how was your search? Did you find anything the others could not?’

‘No,’ Samuel said, pulling off his boots. ‘You were right-but I have a new idea.’

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘I’ll tell you later. I’m too tired to speak. I need some sleep.’ With that he lay down on the makeshift cot by the wall and pulled the blankets around him. ‘Wake me for lunch,’ he added.

A few moments later, Goodfellow said something in return, but Samuel was already too far gone into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Samuel awoke to the sounds of heavy footsteps stomping up the narrow stairs outside. He vaguely heard Goodfellow push back his chair and approach the door.

‘Is he awake yet?’ Master Glim asked, stepping into the room past Eric.

‘Not yet,’ Goodfellow replied in quieter tones.

Samuel groaned and rolled over, opening his eyes for the first time. The room was dull. The light coming in the window showed it to be either dawn or dusk-his senses were muddled and he could not tell which.

‘So you live to tell the tale of your foolhardy expedition, I see,’ Master Glim stated quite loudly.

‘I’m awake,’ Samuel moaned as he threw back the hot blankets. He sucked at his dry lips and sat up, back against the wall. ‘There’s no need to shout. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’ he asked of Goodfellow.

‘I tried,’ the spectacled magician replied. ‘You grumbled and threw a cup at me. Then you just rolled over again and went back to sleep.’

‘Oh,’ Samuel said, accepting the matter, before returning his attention to his grey-haired teacher. ‘What news?’

‘No news,’ Master Glim confessed. ‘Master Goodfellow here told me about your roaming about all last night. I don’t have to tell you how foolish that was. Eric and I are more than capable of looking for a few books on our own.’

Samuel held up his hands in defence. His head was still groggy and his eyelids heavy as anvils. ‘I thought perhaps I could find something you could not-besides, I was going crazy being locked in here day after day, night after night.’

‘Well, if you’re caught you’ll be more than crazy-you’ll be imprisoned or dead or worse,’ Master Glim said with genuine concern. He sighed and shook his head once more. ‘You seem to have a problem following intelligent suggestions. So, I don’t suppose you did manage to find anything useful?’

Samuel gained his feet and stretched himself out as he made for one of the chairs by the ramshackle table. ‘No.’

‘Then I don’t think we will be able to follow our original plan,’ Master Glim announced. ‘After speaking to Lord Goodwin and Lomar, it does seem as if we are running out of time. There is no point meddling with the Council any more as the existence of this relic makes them redundant, as far as the war is concerned. I can’t see that we have any other choice. We must find a way to destroy this newfound relic: the Argum Stone.’

‘I’m not sure such a thing can be destroyed,’ Samuel said.

‘Its chamber is nearly atop the inside of the High Tower,’ Master Glim said. ‘We could push it out the window and let it crash down. Such a fall should break anything.’

‘Do you think the Staff of Elders could be destroyed so easily?’ Samuel asked, leaving Master Glim to nod thoughtfully. ‘I have another idea.’

‘Perhaps you’re right. I’m listening.’

‘We make our way into the High Tower and find all the books that Ash has been hoarding and steal them back. Without the knowledge of how to awaken the Argum Stone, they will never be able to use it.’

‘That will be incredibly dangerous,’ Goodfellow stated. ‘If we are caught, there will be no doubt we are acting as traitors-we could be executed.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I realise that, but we have come to the time where we must begin taking risks. If we can steal away whatever notes they are using to research the Argum Stone, it may actually avert the war and countless lives will be saved. At the very least, their efforts will be delayed and we can go back to original plan via the Council.’

Master Glim mulled over the idea for a few moments. ‘I see what you are saying, Samuel. If they have not learned to use the thing by now, then they are surely having some difficulty. If we can steal their resources away, they may never manage it.’

‘Exactly, but such an important thing will surely be well guarded,’ Samuel said, ‘and there are only the four of us-five, if we include Eric.’

‘We don’t need a lot of people,’ Master Glim said. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. We want to sneak in there and be out again before anyone notices. If we draw the palace guards’ attention upon ourselves, we are probably done for. We should ask Lord Goodwin to assist. If he can organise a distraction for Master Ash to get him out of that chamber, then all the better. You can kill him another time. At present, we do not need any complications.’

Samuel nodded. ‘Yes, I realise that. I’m sure I can hold my vengeance a little longer, but you will need to contact Lord Goodwin yourself.’

‘I will try to speak with him now, and then I will return. Haste is of all importance.’ With that, Master Glim stood. ‘Take care, both of you, and don’t forget-stay here!’

Goodfellow and Samuel said farewell and their teacher disappeared out the door and down into the street.

‘Are you hungry?’ Samuel asked Goodfellow after a few moments.

Goodfellow nodded. He had begun tidying up the squalid room again, folding Samuel’s blankets into neat squares and forming them into a pile beside his own.

‘Good,’ Samuel said, standing and stretching his arms out wide to get the blood flowing through his limbs. ‘I’ll make breakfast.’

‘It’s dinner,’ Goodfellow corrected, as Samuel began cutting them some bread with a guilty smile.

Master Glim returned after only a couple of hours had passed, looking over his shoulder as he slipped through the doorway in his plain commoner’s clothes. The night market was in full swing outside with coloured lamps strung high back and forth across the streets. The crowd was thick and creating a great hubbub as they argued over bargains and shouted for their dinners.

‘I thought I was being followed,’ he said with a sigh of relief as he sat back at the table.

‘So, what news?’ Samuel asked.

‘Lord Goodwin has uncovered a remarkable amount of information for us. It is true that the thing is, in its current state, useless. The Archmage has been arguing with the Emperor over the matter and, luckily for us, both of them have a tendency to shout when they get upset. The Emperor has given them only a few days more, but the Archmage seems confident it is time enough-which means they are nearly ready. Lord Jarrod has been in charge of the whole project of finding and recovering the Argum Stone, but Master Ash seems to be doing most of the groundwork. There is also a small surprise: it seems Master Dividian has also been seen frequenting the relic’s chamber, so it seems he is also involved in all this.’

‘That explains why we can’t find anything useful in the Great Library,’ Samuel stated. ‘That weasel Dividian has probably been stealing anything relevant for years. They’ve all been working together.’

‘So I assume,’ Master Glim agreed, ‘but I guess it’s not really stealing if he is doing it for the Archmage. It’s just that we don’t like it.’

‘So are we going ahead?’ Goodfellow queried.

‘Yes,’ Master Glim confirmed. ‘Lord Goodwin has organised an emergency session of the Magicians’ Council, beginning within the very hour. He is demanding that the details of the relic be revealed, on the grounds that it could be a danger to the city if improperly used. Fortunately, most of the other councillors are so curious to hear about it that they have supported his call. Hopefully, this should be enough to draw Master Ash away from the chamber.’

‘We’re going tonight?’ Goodfellow asked, looking at Samuel with disbelief.

‘Yes, at once,’ Master Glim replied. ‘We cannot afford to wait any longer for the Grand Master. Master Pot and Master Lomar will meet us at the palace. From there, we will go directly to the High Tower and take whatever books and notes they have and just hope that, without that information, they cannot continue with their work. If we meet any resistance, we will try to overcome it as best we can.’

‘Can’t we just take the Argum Stone?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘No. It’s far too big,’ Samuel told him. ‘They sealed the thing inside the room. It won’t even fit through the doorway and spells cannot affect it. We’d need ropes and equipment and a score of men just to lift it.’

‘It all sounds dangerous,’ Goodfellow stated nervously.

Master Glim looked at Goodfellow momentarily. ‘Actually, it would be best if you stayed here. When we return, it’s possible we may be followed, so we will leave the books with you and continue on into the markets. At least, that way, if we are caught, the books are not lost and we can lead any pursuers away.’

Goodfellow seemed hesitant. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ Master Glim confirmed. ‘Someone must stay and it may as well be you. Samuel and I are both needed in the palace.’

Goodfellow breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Very well. I’ll stay. I must say I am rather glad.’

Master Glim smiled knowingly before turning to Samuel. ‘There’s just one more thing. If we are caught, or cannot escape in time, the books must be destroyed.’

‘Destroy the books?’ Samuel said with disbelief. ‘They’re irreplaceable! If they really do contain knowledge of the Ancients, they may be the only remaining copies in existence!’

‘I know, Samuel, but many lives are at stake. If it comes to that, we have no choice.’

‘That knowledge may never be found again.’

‘We will have to live with that.’

Samuel was about to retort once more, but finally gave in. ‘Yes. Yes, you are right. Given time, I suppose we can uncover everything that has been lost through our own efforts, but we cannot recover the lives of those lost to the war.’

Master Glim nodded. ‘Correct. Very well, we must make haste. Eric, stay near the window and we will call for you when we return. Samuel, change back into your robes. They will conceal us within the palace.’

Samuel readied himself and Master Glim picked up his leather satchel before they both proceeded out the door.

‘You don’t think Goodfellow is up to the task?’ Samuel queried his teacher once they were out into the bustling street.

‘No. I think it’s better if he stays here. He’s too nervous and he’s of little use like that. He will only give us away.’

Samuel nodded and they continued on. Master Glim seemed confident, but the man could not help checking over his shoulder as they wound their way towards the Emperor’s palace.

They met Lomar and Eric outside the palace gates and all entered without attracting even a glance from the guards. The halls of the palace were, as usual, inhabited by a variety of plumed nobles and gentry, strolling and conversing-some with long, needle-like rapiers swinging at their hips. Several of the passing gentry sniffed as they passed and Samuel wondered why, until he remembered he had not bathed in some time and probably had the stench of a beggar.

At the base of the High Tower, two black-robed magicians stepped down from the stairs and nearly careened straight into Samuel and his group. Samuel’s heart leapt, but the two men turned immediately away, too engrossed in their conversation to pay them any mind. The men were the councillors, Lords Hathen and Irshank.

‘Oh, yes,’ Hathen was saying, his great bushy moustache wobbling with each word. Samuel could see it bobbing up and down even from behind. ‘I can’t believe such nerve. What did you say to that?’

‘Of course, I scolded the insolent fool,’ the corpulent Irshank stated and the two men disappeared down towards the courtyard.

Samuel collected himself and calmed his quickened heart. The first set of stairs was just before them and the four of them began up together. Somewhere above them lay the Argum Stone, the secrets on how to use it, texts containing the lost wisdom of the Ancients and possibly even Ash himself. Everything he wanted was above in that one small chamber. The Argum Stone and the books would be fascinating, but most of all, Samuel hoped to find Ash. His death would be a sweet reward. If nothing else good could come of these times, Samuel only wished to get his hands around Ash’s neck and squeeze it until the bones began to snap, and then perhaps continue squeezing until his hands cramped from the effort.

The first few levels of the tower were littered with workers, officials and guards. Most were strolling around idly for, at this hour, there was little left to do. The tower grew narrower then, with the stairs beginning to twist upwards, but the High Tower was still wide enough to house many rooms on each level.

The stairs here were not continuous as in the Mage Tower, so they often had to walk a length of hall or cross opposite the tower to reach the next stairway. They passed several storerooms and chambers, but the further they climbed, the less people they met and the less used the rooms appeared to be. There were also no spells set in these stairs to aid in their ascent and so climbing the heights of the tower was tiring work and the occasional halls and balconies were much needed.

‘Take care,’ Master Glim whispered eventually. ‘We are nearly there. If there are any guards, follow my lead. We need to take care of them quickly and quietly.’

They carefully crept up the last length of stairs, but, as they reached the carpeted hall on the next level, there was no one in sight. A single doorway loomed in front of them, looking little different from the numerous others they had passed on their ascent.

They strode closer and Master Glim eyed the door carefully.

‘There’s no guard,’ Eric whispered.

Master Glim put a finger to his lips to silence any talk. He bent over and put his eye to the keyhole, then after a moment, he put his hand to the brass handle-but it remained firm. At that, Master Glim took a step back and started rubbing his chin in deliberation.

Samuel stepped in front of his teacher and took his turn to look through the keyhole. He could just make out an open window across the room, with scarlet curtains billowing in the breeze. There were some shelves on either side, but that was as much as he could discern.

He also tried turning the handle, but it was quite obviously locked.

‘What shall we do?’ Lomar asked softly. ‘We cannot linger out here.’

‘We must open the door,’ Master Glim decided. ‘It’s locked, but not barred.’

‘It’s a good sign,’ Lomar announced. ‘There will be no one inside.’

‘I’m sure there will be traps,’ Samuel responded.

‘I realise that,’ Master Glim said sternly. His nerves had put him in no mood for statements of the obvious. ‘Stand back.’

Lomar, Eric and Samuel each scurried down the hall a little way while Master Glim examined the door. Samuel was looking nervously back down the stairs, when Master Glim cast a spell with a flick of his finger and the door made a soft click. He grasped the handle and carefully turned it. He opened the door the slightest crack, ready for the slightest hint of a spell, and then pushed it open, letting it swing in on its hinges.

The others hesitated for a moment before tiptoeing up behind the wary, old teacher. Samuel peered past the man and could see the Argum Stone standing in the middle of the chamber, set upon a sturdy wooden frame to hold it upright.

‘I can’t sense any spells,’ Samuel stated, half to himself.

‘No…’ mused Master Glim. ‘How strange.’

‘Who wants to go in first?’ Eric asked. ‘I’ll guard our retreat.’

‘I’ll go,’ Master Glim stated, failing to notice Eric’s light-hearted tone. He took a deep breath and Samuel could see the magic blooming out of him, surrounding him in layers upon layers of shielding designed to protect him from all magical and physical harm. ‘Wait here,’ he instructed and passed his satchel back to Eric. Then, he took a first tentative step onto the wooden boards of the room.

There was a creak as the floor took his weight and the man stopped dead in place. Samuel’s heart skipped and Lomar gasped aloud. Master Glim turned his head and opened his eyes wide, urging them to be quiet. Shaking his head in wonderment, Master Glim raised his foot and went to take another careful step. The air around him flashed and hissed, like red hot steel dropped in water. The others all staggered back out of the doorway as a blood-red symbol, a design like Samuel had never seen, formed before Master Glim. The air filled with a burning heat like the core of an open furnace. Master Glim defended himself with all his resolve, but the glyph burned slowly in towards him, tearing his spells to threads on contact. Samuel had to put his hands before his face to shield his eyes from the flashing light and heat.

‘Defend him!’ Lomar hissed and spells sprang out from the man and into the room.

Samuel went to dart forward, but Master Glim somehow sensed his actions. ‘Stay where you are!’ he cried out as he strained to hold his shield spells in place.

Samuel realised his stupidity and joined his power with the spells of Lomar and Eric, pushing at the blood-red symbol that hung in the air. They fed all the power they could muster into Master Glim’s spells, but still the symbol hissed and spat and crept in towards the man, sending its red-hot sparks bouncing onto the wooden floor. As Master Glim took a faltering step back with his knees starting to buckle, the glyph hissed out of existence and the room faded back into silence.

Samuel took a great breath of relief and wiped the sweat from his face with his robe sleeve. Master Glim dropped to his knees and the others rushed in to aid him.

‘Take care,’ Master Glim tried to tell them, but they were heedless and helped him back to his feet while he wiped the sweat from his eyes. ‘I’m all right,’ he told them. ‘I just need a moment to recover my strength.’

‘The spell was somehow undetectable,’ Lomar stated, ‘and of a nature I have never before encountered.’

‘Black magic!’ Eric spat out with disdain, sneaking back to close the door behind them.

‘Yes, I believe so,’ Master Glim agreed. ‘Master Ash, indeed, has some explaining to do for using such a foul art. It took all our combined efforts just to defend from that one spell. Take care, there may be more such devilish traps set for us in here.’

Master Glim took his own weight once again, and Samuel looked to the corners of the room. The chamber was literally lined with shelves, each full and stuffed to the brim with books and papers. There was a small table beside the Argum Stone, covered with a pile of papers and a writing set, but there was no visible sign or hint of any further spells.

‘We have no way of detecting this kind of magic,’ Lomar stated.

‘We cannot mind that now,’ Master Glim announced. ‘Master Ash may have been alerted. We must make all haste. Quickly, find anything that looks useful and put it in my bag.’ He took his satchel back from Eric and began stuffing all the notes from the small table into it. As he did, he had one eye set nervously on the great artefact beside him-as if it could spring to life at any moment.

‘Dividian has been busy,’ Eric called out. ‘There are hundreds of books here!’

‘Thieving cur!’ Master Glim cursed.

Samuel’s heart was still beating fast and he kept his power at the ready, for he expected another black spell to appear with every step he took and every movement he made. He began examining the shelf he had chosen, for it seemed someone had recently written some notes on the spine of each piece. History-plausible, was written on one; The Third Era-erratic, was written on another beside it. Pulling that one out and carefully turning through the pages, Samuel could see it was written with the Old Tongue. The cover showed the book to be very old indeed; the pages were crisp and brittle.

‘These are all about philosophy,’ Eric called out.

‘The ones here all look historical,’ Samuel replied, returning his selected book to its place.

‘The shelves here seem to be about spell crafting,’ Lomar called out, ‘but the dialect in some is strange. It would take some time to properly understand.’

‘Look for a shelf labelled “awakening ancient artefacts”,’ Eric called aloud.

After only another moment Master Glim called out to them. ‘This is useless. There are far too many books here. We would needs days or weeks to even begin to understand them, let alone find what we need. We will have to destroy them.’

‘Surely we can’t!’ Samuel protested. ‘These books are priceless! Irreplaceable! Just look at them all!’

Master Glim sighed. ‘We have little choice. Our entry will be noticed, if it hasn’t already and Lord Jarrod will only treble his security. We must do something now.’

‘It’s true, Samuel,’ Lomar said. ‘We will have no other opportunity to act.’

‘Why don’t we just take them with us?’ Eric suggested.

‘Good suggestion, Master Pot,’ Master Glim replied sarcastically, ‘but I didn’t bring my barrow. It would take us all night to shift all this.’

‘Why don’t we just ask the palace staff to help us? The palace is full of servants just standing around with nothing to do. I’d think if we told them to help us carry all these books downstairs, they wouldn’t be able to refuse.’

Master Glim shook his head. ‘No, it’s much too slow. We could be discovered at any moment.’

‘I’m sure the Council meeting will not end too soon. Lord Goodwin knows we need as much time as he can spare, and the councillors always talk for hours on end whenever they get the chance. It will only take one of us to stay here and the others can wait downstairs.’

‘I will stay,’ Samuel said. ‘If anyone returns, I will destroy the books.’

‘No,’ Master Glim told him. ‘If you are discovered, they will kill you, I’m sure. I will stay. I know a wall-walking spell. I can set the books ablaze and then be out the window.’

‘If your spell fails, you have a long way to fall,’ Lomar stated.

Master Glim threw the tall man a dark look. ‘My spells don’t easily fail,’ he said. ‘Eric, go and gather as many servants as you can muster. Samuel, go and ready some transportation. We will need to be away with these books as quick as can be. Find a cart, a wagon-anything.’

At once, Eric and Samuel hurried out the door and skipped down the stairs in twos and threes. It was not until they had nearly reached the bottom level that they found a servant striding purposefully along the hall.

‘You there!’ Eric called and the man stopped in his tracks, turning to face them with a startled expression. ‘We need some books carried down from the tower. Bring as many to help us as you can.’

The man was obviously not ready for such a command. ‘But, My Lord, Duke Nuard has already asked that I-’

Eric waved off his objections. ‘Don’t give me that nonsense. This is urgent. Go and muster as many others as you can-twenty or thirty will do. I don’t care how many you must wake up. Quickly! Be about it or heads will roll-and yours will be first!’

‘Yes, My Lord!’ the servant said, as he leapt with fright and darted off.

‘I’ve always wanted to say that,’ Eric said with a smug grin. ‘Heads will roll!’ he said again with a snicker.

‘Very well,’ Samuel said. ‘I’ll go organise a wagon and meet you outside.’

Eric nodded. ‘Yes. I shall wait here and lead the servants back to the room. Then, I’ll come meet you.’

With that, Samuel hurried down the hall and found his way into the courtyard. He looked about, but no servants were visible. Some voices began to approach and so Samuel, still wondering where to find some servants, waited to see who was coming. Four Royal Guards came sauntering into the courtyard. They looked off duty, but upon spying Samuel in his magician’s robes, they fell into an orderly step at once.

Samuel raised his hand and waved them to approach. ‘You there!’ he called. ‘Come here.’

The guards did as he said without a pause. ‘What is it, My Lord?’ one of the men enquired.

‘I need a wagon of some kind,’ Samuel told him. ‘Can you go fetch one for me?’

The guard looked sceptical. ‘I’m not too sure about wagons, My Lord,’ he said. ‘Perhaps the palace servants can help you better.’

‘I don’t have time to go hunting around for them,’ Samuel told him bluntly. ‘The palace has stables, doesn’t it?’

‘It does, My Lord,’ the man replied.

‘Good. Then, if you could be of some assistance, it would be most appreciated.’

The guard looked to his fellows with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. ‘Grimwald, hurry to the stables and organise something for the Good Lord.’

‘Right,’ Grimwald replied and set off at once with his sword clanking at his side.

‘It won’t be a few moments, My Lord,’ the guard told Samuel.

Samuel nodded and waited there in the courtyard with the three remaining men. The air was quiet and uncomfortable.

‘Don’t you have any other business to attend to?’ Samuel finally asked the men.

‘Oh no, My Lord,’ their spokesman replied. ‘We’ll just wait here until your wagon arrives to be sure everything is how you like it.’

Samuel sighed. ‘Very well, then.’ After a moment of nervous silence, he thought he should try some polite conversation. ‘So…is life in the army everything you expected?’

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow and his two mates became all smirks. ‘Ah, it’s fine, My Lord. A wonderful career choice. Very rewarding.’

‘Keeps a man busy!’ said another beside him.

‘Well,’ Samuel said. ‘That’s grand, then.’

‘Aye,’ the spokesman replied in turn.

Samuel decided that small talk was not his speciality, so he turned to pacing around the courtyard instead. The three guards soon relaxed once he was away from them and began talking and laughing amongst themselves. Just when Samuel thought he would have to wait forever, the sound of horseshoes on stone came clip-clopping along and Grimwald and an elderly stable hand came driving a carriage into the courtyard. It was quite an expensive-looking buggy and not the open cart that Samuel had expected at all.

‘Here they are at last!’ the guards’ spokesman declared.

‘I apologise, My Lord,’ Grimwald said, climbing down. ‘It was difficult to make arrangements at such short notice. This was the best we could manage.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel replied.

The crotchety-looking stablehand applied the braking lever and also climbed down. ‘I’ll be off then back to my bed,’ he said to no one in particular and made directly back in the direction from which he had just come, moving as if his britches were half full of stones.

‘Samuel, have you…’ Eric called as he came leaping into the courtyard. On sight of the guards, he stopped. His hands were loaded with books up to his chin. ‘Oh, you seem to have company.’

‘Yes,’ Samuel replied. ‘I also have transportation.’

‘So I can see,’ Eric replied, coming over, and he carefully placed his armload of books into the cab as Samuel held the door open for him.

A small stream of servants came wandering out after him, each carrying various amounts of papers and books.

‘Over here!’ Eric called to them. ‘Put them in here-carefully. But hurry up about it!’

The servants did as they were told, dropping the books haphazardly into the open cab without enthusiasm.

‘Take care there!’ Eric scolded them. ‘They’re not stones!’

The servants grumbled and went to milling about together once they were done.

‘All right,’ Eric began to tell Samuel, ‘I’ll take this lot back up to get some more. There should be more along any moment.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel said and Eric darted back towards the tower.

‘Come along, you lot!’ he called his crowd of servants. ‘There’s plenty more where those came from.’

After they had all vanished back into the tower entrance, the guards’ spokesman sauntered up to the wagon to take a look.

‘Where are you off to, then, My Lord-if you don’t mind my askin’?’

‘We’re having a special magicians’ meeting,’ Samuel told the man. ‘It’s very late notice and we have a lot of books to carry with us.’

The guard nodded and peered into the back of the wagon with some curiousness.

‘Would you like a hand, then?’ the man asked.

‘What’s that?’ Samuel asked him, unsure of his meaning.

‘Would you like us to help you? We don’t really have anything else to do. If you’re really in a fix, we’d be happy to help out a member of the Order.’

‘Oh,’ Samuel replied. ‘That would be wonderful-if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘It’s no problem, really,’ the guard stated and he began rounding up his mates at once. ‘Where do we go then?’

‘Almost to the top of the tower,’ Samuel told him. ‘You can’t miss it.’

With that, the four Royal Guards went into the tower after Eric and his servants. Samuel just hoped Master Glim would not panic on sight of them and vaporise the lot.

More servants began to appear in pairs, so Samuel kept busy instructing them about what to do.

‘Put them in! Hurry along!’ Samuel commanded and the servants kept piling in books. All the while, he kept a nervous eye out for any magicians or guards approaching. He knew they would eventually be discovered. It was just a matter of when.

Samuel saw the same servants come down several times and the cab was now filled up to the seats, with the servants piling the books up on the soft leather seating inside.

The sound of hurried footsteps drew Samuel’s attention and Eric came bounding down into the small courtyard.

‘Let’s go!’ he shouted under his breath, waving both hands frantically. ‘It’s time to go!’

Samuel understood immediately and he grabbed the books from the arms of the last servingwoman and threw them in upon the others, shutting the cab door firmly.

Eric was up into the driver’s seat and was already releasing the braking handle. The two horses looked back at him, sensing it was time to leave. Samuel climbed up beside Eric as he began flicking the reins with vigour.

‘Let’s go!’ he called to the horses and the carriage lurched away at once, with the animals’ hooves clacking on the courtyard stones. ‘They’re onto us!’ Eric then told Samuel. ‘We had best be away quickly before the guards arrive. Lomar and Master Glim are trying to keep them busy, but I don’t know how long they can last.’

‘Do you think they’ll be all right?’ Samuel asked with concern.

Eric just smiled. ‘I’m sure they will be. Those two can handle themselves.’

‘How many books did you get? Surely, this is not all of them.’

‘Not nearly,’ Eric replied, but it’s the best we could do.’

Out of the courtyard, Eric shook the reins harder and clicked his tongue, steering the wagon out onto the grass where he could send it even faster. From high above, behind them, the soft boom and crackle of magic sounded. They sped towards the palace gates, where Eric slowed the wagon to a crawl once again. The two magicians nodded and smiled to the gate guards as they passed out. The men eyed them cautiously, but made no effort to stop them.

‘I don’t believe it!’ Eric declared once they were out into the streets. ‘We walked straight in and just picked up their books!’

‘They’ll be mighty angry, I’ll wager,’ Samuel stated.

‘I’m sure of that!’

It was now late in the night and the streets outside the palace were almost deserted. Samuel kept looking behind them, but there was no sign of any pursuit. They sped along the streets as fast as they dared, making sure to avoid the taverns and market streets, where people often gathered until all hours.

They eventually made it to the safehouse and pulled to a halt with the carriage merely a few footsteps from the doorway. The crowd was still thick and did not look like dispersing any time soon, but they had no problem shouting a space around themselves. Samuel and Eric both leapt down from the driver’s seat and Samuel opened the carriage door. Books tumbled out onto the ground, falling open and spilling loose pages. They both gathered up as many books as they could and then topped their piles with even more books from inside the luxurious cabin until they could barely see over the stacks in their arms. As they rushed inside, Goodfellow appeared on the stairway and came to their assistance.

‘You actually did it?’ he asked with disbelief.

‘Shut up and help us carry them in,’ Samuel called out. ‘The guards will probably be after us any moment.’

Goodfellow leapt into action, hurrying to the carriage and gathering up a pile of his own. Several times they each hurried up and down the narrow stairway, bumping into each other with arms full of heavy books. As Samuel was carrying his seventh armful, Goodfellow came flying down the stairs, nearly sending them both sprawling back down.

‘They’re coming!’ he exclaimed with alarm. ‘I can hear shouting from the market square.’

‘Hell and damnation!’ Samuel swore and threw his books as far up the steps as he could. ‘They’re here!’ he hissed to Eric, who had just come up behind him.

Samuel made the street in one leap and was frantically tossing books as fast and as far as he could up onto the stairs, some tearing from their bindings and losing their pages. Eric was then beside him, helping to shovel out the books. Normally, they would have shuddered at the thought of such an act, but they were desperate to save as many volumes as they could.

‘Go!’ Eric called desperately.

‘The books!’ Samuel hissed back to him, reaching for another handful.

‘Damn the books!’ Eric returned, throwing the cab door shut in Samuel’s face. ‘If they find us here they’ll all be lost. We have to save what we can. I’ll lead them away.’

‘No!’ Samuel told his friend, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of them. You take care of the books.’

Eric opened his mouth to object, but Samuel was already vaulting back up into the driver’s seat.

He shook the reins hard and cried out, ‘Ya!’ The horses lurched forward. Their hooves slipped about on the paved street until they gained enough traction to begin away. ‘Get out of the way!’ he cried.

The crowd jeered and swore as Samuel pushed through them, but thankfully they fell back into place behind him as he passed, creating just as much of an inconvenience for any pursuers. As soon as he was free of the markets, he roared out loud and set the horses galloping along the treacherous street. He could sense riders not far behind. The smell of magic was growing.

After only a few streets, Samuel could hear soldiers behind, shouting and calling for him to stop. Samuel lashed at the reins and his horses bolted forward. A small crowd was ahead and people screamed and swore and dived aside as the carriage thundered forth. A couple were too slow and Samuel felt their bodies go beneath the wheels with a sickening crunch. Samuel cursed himself, but would not let the carriage slow.

He came to a sharp corner and the horses’ hooves slipped on the stones and the carriage skidded as it made the turn. A vacant stand was smashed to pieces against the wall as the carriage swung into it. Looking over one shoulder as he made the turn, Samuel could see the armed riders in pursuit, only half a street behind.

People were still gathered in droves here and they screamed and hurled abuse as he parted them with the careering carriage. This time, it only made his pursuers’ task easier and they galloped through the thinned and screaming crowd behind.

Samuel turned another bend and entered a much wider street. It led downhill towards the south-eastern quarter and his horses had begun picking up their pace when an armoured horse galloped past him on the right. Its rider, wearing the plated armour of the palace, bore a savage look of determination. He reached out towards Samuel’s horses and made for the harness of the outermost animal. Samuel responded by pulling at the reins and moving the carriage away to the left, momentarily beyond the man’s reach. Something flashed in the corner of Samuel’s vision and a sword came swinging down beside him. It bit into his arm, hacking into the flesh just below his elbow and striking right through to the bone. Samuel screamed and threw himself away and across the driver’s seat. The guard raised his sword again and leant over to strike, this time hacking wildly into the padded seat, spilling fluff into the air. His eyes and mouth were wide with fury.

Samuel instinctively threw a spell in retaliation. His mind buzzed with the pain of his ruined arm and he half-surprised himself when the spell actually formed true. The horseman’s mount panicked, its mind filled with blood and wolves, and it leapt aside in terror, slamming into a wall. Both horse and rider tumbled over and disappeared as the carriage continued on, with the vehicle jumping as something solid went under the rear wheel.

Samuel realised that the carriage was slowing and he returned his attention to the first horseman. The man had gained hold of the harness and was bringing the vehicle to a halt. Samuel cast the same spell again and the man’s horse stopped on the spot. The spell had been malformed-something he could not tell what had gone awry-but the effect was just as useful. The man vanished behind as his horse stopped dead still and the harness was torn from his grasp.

Samuel snatched up the reins with one hand and shook his animals back into life. They began galloping anew, but their breathing was now hoarse and laboured, with foam spitting from their lips. He spelled the creatures’ minds to calm them, but they were near exhaustion. He needed time to gather his thoughts, time to cast some spells, but his pursuers kept after him and time was in short supply.

More riders had caught up behind and they were yelling for him to halt. Samuel realised that they would soon overcome him, but his frantic mind could not tell him what else to do. ‘Gods and devils,’ he muttered, glancing at his blood-soaked, ruined arm. Something white was visible jutting from his flesh and Samuel looked away.

A third rider had caught up and now galloped alongside. The man leapt from his mount and onto the seat beside Samuel. It was the Royal Guard who had waited with Samuel in the courtyard, the spokesman, and his face was filled with anger.

‘I’ll teach-’ he began, but Samuel swung his boot up into the man’s jaw and teeth flew to the winds.

The guard clutched at his face with one hand, but recovered quickly, his wide eyes glaring through his bloodied fingers. His other hand drew his sword cleanly from its sheath and he raised it high, but Samuel’s foot struck again, knocking the guard head over heels from the carriage and onto the cobbled street. A momentary yelp of pain sounded as he struck the stones behind.

The horses faltered and Samuel knew he could expect little more from them. There were still other riders behind and he knew they were only biding their time, waiting for his horses to tire.

Gritting his teeth, Samuel realised he would have to abandon the carriage. If he tried to go on, they would overcome him and all would be lost. He sealed his arm in a clot of spells to cover the pain and wrapped it in as much magic as he could to hold in his blood. It felt like a log of rubber dangling from his shoulder. Again, he damned himself for his foolishness.

Gathering his wits, Samuel realised he had a few moments to spare. Seizing the opportunity, he leapt from the carriage and onto the cobbled street, rolling to his feet as the carriage flew on. Spinning on his heels, he saw that three cloaked riders were closing upon him. They were magicians and spells were blooming to life around them.

Samuel darted down the first street he could, supporting his useless arm with the other, and he felt a spell of some nature striking his defences. His spell shield was weakened somewhat, but held. It would only take a few such strikes before it failed completely and he would be defenceless. Running was not usually a sensible choice when facing magicians, but now it was the only option left to him. With his arm in its current state and blood seeping out everywhere, Samuel had no idea how he could possibly defeat them.

The riders followed him down the dark street with their black robes billowing behind them and, desperately, Samuel kicked in the first door he came to.

The house was dark inside and, as he ran in, a number a people leapt up from their beds on the floor, yelling in surprise and fear. Samuel sensed an exit from the room and darted between wailing children. He met a set of stairs, lit in hues of grey, and he took them in leaping bounds. Behind, the mages followed on foot amongst the cries of the children.

Samuel burst out onto the roof of the building. Stars shone faintly between the rows of washing that was strung out atop the roof. Something struck him unexpectedly, like a blow from a hammer, between the shoulder blades and he staggered, turning as best he could. At the base of the stairs, a magician was glaring up at him. He looked perhaps a few years older than Samuel and he seemed familiar. Perhaps he had been one of the Adept who had graduated when Samuel first arrived at the school. Whoever he was, his spells were certainly powerful enough to overcome Samuel in his present state. The man threw his arms out and Samuel dived aside, feeling a second knot of magic blister past.

Samuel made for the building’s edge and took a great leap. The next rooftop was further than it appeared and he had to quickly enhance his leap with a spell of Moving, gaining an extra few measures of distance. He landed lightly and then turned to the sound of footsteps as the magician followed his example, leaping from the building’s edge with the aid of a spell. Samuel raised his unharmed hand-letting his other arm drop to his side like nothing more than a tube of meat-and cast a spell, cancelling the man’s Lifting spell as it formed. The magician’s face went white with terror as he disappeared down between the buildings. His yell stopped abruptly as he hit the street below.

The other two magicians appeared at the roof’s edge, pointing to Samuel and they came together across the gap. As Samuel ran, he was pelted with spells that pulled and tested his defences. He staggered as a wave of force struck him in the back. It was difficult to concentrate; the pain of his ruined arm continually surfaced and made his head swim.

Thankfully, the next building was nearer and lower, and Samuel threw himself across the alley below. His ankle floundered as he landed and twisted, sending him sprawling onto his face. He crawled back to his feet as one magician sailed clear over him with a magical leap and landed lightly on his far side. The other mage took a smaller jump, in order to land on the alley side of Samuel and block his retreat, but Samuel had anticipated this. He leapt up with all his resolve and met the man at the roof’s edge, butting into him with his shoulder just as the fellow landed. The last of Samuel’s strength went into the blow and it threw him onto his back, knocking the wind from his lungs, but the desired effect was achieved. The magician screamed as he toppled backwards and careened down into the dark alley.

The stars were beautiful tonight. They reminded Samuel of all the times he had lain in the fields and glades with Leila, looking up and watching the tiny bright dots above, like motes of dust on a millpond. Occasionally, a shooting star would burn across the sky and they would both laugh and hug each other closer, making wishes. He wished he was still there, lying in that field or by the stream with Leila in his arms. Her body had been so soft and warm and wonderful and her smile was beyond any description that he could attempt with words. All he could feel now was the cold of night and the hard rooftop underneath him.

The stars blurred before his watering eyes and a dark shape loomed over him. It bore a smile of satisfaction and Samuel had to clear his confused mind to remember where he was.

‘What trouble you have been, traitor,’ the man said with a northern accent. He could have been from the same town as Eric. ‘How happy the Archmage will be when he sees your severed head.’

Samuel swallowed. The pain was numbing him now. His lips felt like someone else’s-fat and swollen. He looked into the northerner’s face. The man’s aura swirled and churned around him, almost like a tiny sky full of stars itself. They shimmered and spun; then, like a wave retreating from the beach to rejoin the sea, the magician’s aura waned and shuddered as he gathered his strength to deliver a final blow. To most magicians, such a thing was impossible to see, but Samuel could watch the very power vanish from the man’s defences as he summoned it into his palms. In that instant, the magician had unwittingly sealed his own defeat.

‘I’m sorry,’ Samuel whispered and he raised his trembling hand just enough. It almost looked as if he was reaching for help. So much death.

An instant of realisation replaced the northerner’s confident grin as a ball of burning bright light flashed up into his face. He howled with pain and stumbled back, clutching at his smoking, hissing face. His screaming continued as he tripped over the roof’s edge and into the street below, where it abruptly stopped with a shrill gasp.

The sounds of people roused from their houses came from all around and women began to scream. Samuel could only lie and stare at the blurry stars as the blowing of whistles and cries for the city guards echoed down the streets. The magician would have thought nothing of Samuel’s spell at any other moment, but so timed, it had found him defenceless. Thoughts came into Samuel’s head- knowledge…knowledge… He could not tell if they were someone else’s or his own. Nothing is more powerful than knowledge.

‘Come, Samuel,’ a voice then said beside him and Samuel rolled his head over to see who was there. Even that was a trembling effort.

‘Lomar,’ Samuel could only whisper, his voice thin.

The tall magician was busily doing something beside him and he could hear the tearing and tying of cloth. Some time seemed to have passed, but Samuel could not tell if it was moments or hours. His body hurt all over and his head still rang from striking the roof. There was no feeling in his arm at all, but he could tell that Lomar was doing something to him, tying something around his side. Lomar sat Samuel up and put his own cloak around him, throwing Samuel’s bloodied robes aside. Samuel was then lifted to his feet and together they limped to the roof’s far side, away from the commotion. Somehow, Samuel managed to get his legs in some form of working order, but they felt like two drunkards beneath him, brawling against each other. Reaching a distant edge, Lomar then lowered Samuel onto a lower store roof and Samuel winced as his swollen foot took his weight. The other arm still dripped blood, leaving a trail of dark blots.

Lomar dropped beside him nimbly; then Samuel was again lowered onto the top of a large barrel, where he managed to control his fall onto the alleyway. Again, Lomar appeared beside him and helped him up, and they made their way along the street, arms around each other.

‘I killed them,’ Samuel said, feeling strange and distant. Lomar had done something to him to numb the pain.

‘Don’t worry Samuel. You had no choice,’ Lomar replied. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to find you. Master Glim and I had some escaping of our own to do. He managed to slip away unseen, but I’m afraid I had quite a lot of trouble convincing the palace guards to leave me be. I had to be rather forceful in the end.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you,’ Samuel said, attempting to smile, but the pain cut through him like a knife, making him wince. Lomar nodded. ‘We saved as many books as we could,’ Samuel then added.

‘I know,’ Lomar said back.

‘But many were lost.’

‘It doesn’t matter. To get what we did was a small miracle.’

‘There are no miracles,’ Samuel said softly to himself, feeling faint and distant.

Surprisingly, Lomar had heard him and whispered back, ‘Oh, I think there are, my friend.’ Then he smiled, a barely discernible smile that just touched the edges of his lips and it made Samuel wonder what it was that his friend was thinking.

They continued on through the narrow back alleys towards the safehouse, thankful not to come across anyone. Shouts echoed from the streets and houses far away, but the two men were only shadows slipping through the darkness.