The Young Magician

CHAPTER TWELVE

It took only a dozen steps for Samuel to discover why the water level was only knee deep. Something-perhaps the creature or perhaps the men of the keep-had completely blocked one end with stones and earth; to what end, Samuel could not begin to fathom. Perhaps the creature enjoyed its new abode, but preferred it a little less damp, or maybe the magicians’ spells, in their attempts to destroy the beast, had brought a part of the roof of the tunnel down. Whatever the reason, this direction offered no escape and so Samuel turned about and headed back to try the other way.

Returning to below the well shaft, a great lump of earth fell down with an echoing splash, an ominous reminder of the danger of the situation. Samuel peered up, with dreadful thoughts of the whole tunnel collapsing and burying him alive. As he edged past the shaft, a second chunk splashed behind him, wetting his back and head. He shuddered with its cold embrace against his skin and spelled himself a little warmer. It was about all he could manage at present, as exhausted as he was, but he was momentarily thankful for his magician’s gifts. His confrontation with the creature, followed by the harrowing fall, had left him in a frail state. There was not much magic left in him to be had-although that was not strictly true, he reminded himself. Magic was always present in vast quantities. It existed in and around every living thing. It was merely his mortal body which was worn and tired, unable to channel in its haggard state. If only he was somehow refreshed and rejuvenated, he could be out of there in moments. Unfortunately, he needed time to recover his strength.

He continued along past the main shaft, sending mage-lights out to illuminate the walls. He did not want anything jumping out and surprising him. It would be enough to scare him to death at the moment. Then again, someone could walk straight up to him with a hammer and pound him on the head and there would be little he could do about it. The thought made him shudder once more.

The tunnel curved to the left and Samuel followed it cautiously. The water was deeper in the middle, but only up to his knees at the sides, so Samuel kept his feet to each edge, shuffling along with his hands pressed against both walls to maintain his balance. It was slower going, but it took only a moment to discover that this way was also blocked. A short distance ahead, illuminated by his lights, was a wall of solid stone.

Samuel’s heart sank. He waded up to it, pushing through the water with determination and almost fell into a deep circular pool at the tunnel’s end. Shallow at its edges, the water was black as night at its centre, seeming to go down into the bowels of the earth. Hopefully, it would lead somewhere safe, somewhere where he could rest or find his way to the surface. His life depended on it.

There was a stirring in the pattern, and the stone around him shuddered as spells were cast above. Flecks of stone dropped from the roof. From back near the shaft, a splash sounded, as if other, larger pieces were crashing down. His friends were trying to unearth him and Samuel hoped they were being careful. The stone all around was fractured and brittle. It would not take too much more to flatten this tiny tunnel and him inside it.

Samuel returned his attention to his escape and sent a mage-light down into the dark waters. Its light did not penetrate far, but he could see it going down some distance into the black depths before he felt the further resistance of his spell meeting more stone. Somewhere down there, there would have to be some way for the water to move on. This was part of a natural underground system in the area and so would eventually meet other such tunnels. He could just not be sure which of those would have air and which would be filled completely with water. The creature, after all, had dragged its bodies down here and must have put them somewhere. It seemed to have been storing its food for later. Somewhere, through this pool, must be another cavern that the creature had used as its larder.

There was another tremor in the fabric of the pattern and the tunnel was shaken once more, more violently, causing Samuel to brace himself between the smooth walls. The earth groaned all around and a loud crash of falling earth sounded down the tunnel. Samuel froze, expecting the roof to fall upon him at any instant but, after a nervous moment, no such end to him came. Ripples came lapping against his thighs, but all else was quiet once again.

If he was a common magician, the others above would perhaps be able to sense him and know of his well-being. Unfortunately, unless he was channelling some powerful magic, he was invisible to them all. What was previously a boon to him was now a curse. They could not know whether he was alive or dead, or even where he was. Their only choice would be to slowly dig their way down and hope they could reach him before they buried him alive.

The walls trembled once again and a straining groan crept through all the rocks around, chased by a series of cracking and clacking sounds. That was enough for Samuel. Taking his lights with him, he stepped into the freezing waters and, taking as great a breath as he could, he dived down and kicked towards the freezing depths. His mage-lights threw a ghoulish blue hue onto the pale, stone walls around him. Tiny colourless things wriggled and danced before his eyes.

Samuel spied a dark opening just below him and began to swim through it, kicking into a narrow shaft that went straight back up to mirror the first. His lungs had begun to burn, craving air. He fought upwards with all his resolve, desperate for some sign of salvation. His mage-lights reflected a silver wall above him and he kicked towards it with all his resolve. Expecting some kind of resistance, he was surprised when the barrier vanished on contact and he found himself breaking through onto the surface. His lungs pulled in a great gulp of air and he immediately felt sweet relief. A second breath followed quickly and, after a time, still kicking all the while to keep his head above surface, the craving in his chest slowly yielded. It was only then, as he began to take note of his surroundings, that Samuel noticed the rancid odour that saturated the air, like festering meat.

The edge was smooth and without purchase, so Samuel had to kick with considerable effort to get himself up onto the tunnel floor. He lay like a stunned fish, shivering to the bone until the soreness had eased in his legs. The stone floor was cold and hard against his wet cheek, but he lacked the energy to even lift his head. As his breaths slowed, Samuel finally had the chance to survey the tunnel and hope there was nothing here with him. He rolled over and managed to climb woodenly to his feet. His clothes were sodden and freezing against his skin. His boots were full of water. All he could do was hug himself for warmth with his hands pushed into his armpits. Thankfully, his mage-lights were still with him, hovering not too far away and no other creatures had yet swept down to swallow him.

This tunnel was narrower, although much taller than the first and led down at a steady gradient. The walls were filled with crevices and cracks, and it was from these that hung the arms, legs and bodies of Captain Orrell’s Royal Guards. Their carcasses were stuffed firmly into the narrow openings, hanging out somewhat where they would not entirely fit. Sticky fluids trickled from many of them, oozing down the walls to form a pool on the floor. The sight sent a shiver running up his spine.

A further boom shook the walls all around and Samuel found himself hurrying along as best he could on the slippery stones. From far ahead, running water could be heard and he continued towards it, past the men who glared out at him with lifeless, bulging eyes and mouths locked open in endless, silent screams. There were other men also pushed into the cracks here. Some wore armour and others the clothes of magicians. All were mangled and still. Now, at least, Samuel knew what had happened to the unfortunate occupants of the keep.

Sebastian had said that there was only one such creature and Samuel was beginning to feel that the madman had spoken the truth. If there were more monstrosities in the cavern, they surely would have shown themselves by now. Still, Samuel eyed the many empty fissures and dark corners with dreadful anticipation as he passed them by. His heart could not help sounding a steady rhythm against his ribs.

He had been walking for some time, ever downwards. His shivering had begun to subside, yet his limbs felt weighted with lead. The rumblings had been left far behind and only the increasingly loud echo of rushing water could be heard still ahead. The tunnel then began to grow smaller once more, its sides slick and smooth, until Samuel came to the point where he could see its end. Angling down sharply, the tunnel formed into a narrow sluice. Samuel judged it to be treacherously slippery, and cautiously he began down, placing each footstep with the utmost care lest he should slip and fall to some jagged death. The stone had been worn as slick as ice where the underground stream had run its course for years unknown.

The sound of water had become a roar and Samuel could feel moisture thick in the air. He managed to slide cautiously down the tunnel on his backside, until he came to a gaping drop at its end. An underground river surged below-a thundering torrent of white water rushing by, illuminated by his hovering mage-lights. The tunnel edge was treacherous and slippery and Samuel had to keep his hands pushed out firmly against the walls to hold himself in place.

To the left of this opening, almost within arms’ reach, the river began, surging furiously from the stone and dropping down far below. There, the white foaming water swirled and bubbled and rushed away through a black opening. Samuel craned his neck out and scanned the walls for any other openings, but was disappointed to find only flat stone. He waited there in the tunnel mouth for some feeling of resolve to help him choose his fate. There was nowhere to go but down, out through that crack.

As he sat there, frozen and miserable, his worst fears began to be realised. His mage-lights, which had been growing smaller all the while, began winking out. There was no energy left with which to support them and so, one by one, they faded from existence, leaving him in complete and utter darkness. ‘Damn,’ was all he could think to say, but the word was lost amongst the roar of the water.

The shivering magician sat, propped at the tunnel’s edge, and waited for something to happen, some miracle to come and return even a little of his strength, but nothing did. Still, he sat and shivered in the darkness and nothing else occurred except for the water’s endless roaring and falling and surging and gurgling. He had hoped that, given time, he would feel stronger again, but all he felt now was the desire to lie down and die and, with each passing moment, the prospect only became all the more inviting. Lost in the darkness and the river’s roar, Samuel could barely feel his existence at all. Most of his body was now numb. Only his thoughts remained as evidence he was still living at all.

Taking one last heavy breath and forcing his rigid arms to relax, he leant forward and let himself topple into the void. Hurtling down into the total darkness, his body felt almost weightless. The air blew a cool breath into his face, like a final tender kiss. Then the water struck him with a violent slap and it thundered in his ears.

Sudden shocking cold entered him as he plunged into the freezing depths, with roaring and babbling in his ears. The weight of the waterfall fell upon him and drove him further down, the immense weight crushing him. His eyes were open, yet could see nothing. He kicked and found air and cried out with shock and pain before being dragged under once more. He could feel motion as the water carried him and then it sucked at him and for an instant there was air again and he took half a gulping breath before being sucked under and tossed and turned every which way. Rocks struck at his knees and elbows and head, and he careered into and over them at the current’s whim. He took a great mouthful of water as again he was pulverised, and he vomited at once before being forced to take another watery breath.

Then there was light and Samuel spilled out into vacant air. He caught a glimpse of a vast, underground lake in a dimly-lit cavern; then he splashed down, swallowed once more by the icy waters. He fought with the last of his strength for the surface and came up, coughing and emptying water from his stomach once more. He could barely tread water as he tried to overcome the horrible nausea that filled him. The water was in his boots and pulled him down with each kick. His breathing was frantic and he had no goal but to desperately keep his chin above the water. Something struck his boots and Samuel kicked out, feeling hard rock. He took a tenuous step and, finding more firm stone under his foot, he struggled forward. Each step raised him higher until he was only wading up to his thighs-yet the water felt like molasses around him. His body felt enormous-almost as if strings were tied around him and were pulling him down relentlessly. He drove himself towards a nearby island of stone. Step after step he forced himself on until, utterly exhausted, he struggled out of the water and collapsed on the hard stone floor. He coughed and retched out copious amounts of water as he rolled onto his side, labouring for breath. His entire body felt ruined. His muscles had been screaming for relief and now they had it, they ached in entirely new and excruciating ways. Still, he was alive. For the first time, he managed to form a conscious thought: By the gods! I am still alive!

He lay panting and coughing for what seemed like hours, slipping in and out of consciousness, until the skittering of some tickling insect across his face, roused him back to awareness.

From this position, he could see much of the cavern that surrounded him. Water cascaded in from several gaps high in the wall, lit by multitudes of tiny glowing worms that seemed to hang from the ceiling on milky, silken threads, shining with a pale green light. The water ran to the edges of the great cavern, where it drained though unseen cavities. Ledges and rocky outcrops jutted from the high walls, like the balconies of an underground city. Samuel continued staring upwards, gawking at the enormous stone cavern like someone seeing stars for the first time ever, until darkness crept around his vision once more, and he passed out.

After some time, Samuel awoke and the first thing he realised was that he could not move. His muscles had knotted up so tightly as to paralyse him. With great strength of will he forced himself up into a sitting position. He felt weak to the core and was tempted to lie down again, but he knew that he would only become weaker by lingering here. He needed to be dry and warm and have some food in his stomach. Only then would he be safe. Only then could he rest. His belly felt knotted and it stung as if he had swallowed glass or nails. Escape was foremost on his mind, but in his current condition he had little chance of going anywhere. Sitting on the stone, he felt entombed within the earth. Hours passed as his mind struggled in and out of consciousness. Finally, his mind began to assemble itself into some semblance of sanity. I am alive! he remembered thinking. He wanted to shout it out in all directions, but something made him fearful of speaking aloud. He was afraid that no sound would come from his throat if he tried and perhaps he was dead after all. He slapped his cheeks and pinched his fingernails in attempt to shake the stupor from himself and, slowly, it seemed to work.

He struggled to his feet and examined his surroundings. From his ledge, he could walk around the perimeter of the cavern, where a series of outcrops rose along the wall. He was sure he would not survive another voyage in the water and so he sought other means of escaping. He began clambering up the rocky ledges, with each movement a struggle, and passed many dark openings leading away into the earth. He dreaded having to leave the stone-lit sanctuary and entering the unknown darkness, but then felt something that almost made him cry out with joy-a slight movement of air on his face.

It was just a tiny motion, but Samuel was sure that, just for a moment, the air had stirred and moved towards him. He scraped his boot amongst the stones at his feet to mark the narrow passage and continued exploring the chamber. He waited momentarily before each of the other passages, but none gave him any hint of wind or breeze. Eventually, Samuel made his way back to the marked passage. He began into that black opening and was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

He felt his way along the walls, step by step, slowly through the dark, with nothing but the hollow echoes from the cavern behind him and the scraping of his sodden boots upon the gravelly floor. He would have taken them off, but the ground was jagged in places and would lacerate his feet in moments. He continued on, ignorant of the time passing, tripping over stones and fumbling over rocks, until the sounds of water behind had long ceased and he felt entombed in his solitude, deep beneath the earth. All he could hear were his own breaths and grunts of exertion. Even his footsteps came echoing back from the dark as if to haunt him. Each one was a painful accusation, a testimony of his breaking of the silence-silence that until now had ruled this unexplored realm beneath the earth absolutely and without exception. Almost certainly, he feared some terrible retribution, but he pushed himself on without pause. His lips moved silently and incessantly in prayer, in the hope that whatever titanic gods were observing him from their lairs in the darkness would be compassionate and would let him continue, if only he did not stop.

The breeze did not return, but Samuel could not turn back. He could not abandon his one hope of escape. Soon, even the fear of things watching him disappeared. Often he stopped and waited, straining to sense some movement of air, licking his finger with his dry tongue, but he could feel nothing. He continued on, following the twisting and turning passage until his hand, pressed against the wall to guide him, was worn and sore.

It was then the tunnel ended in an abrupt wall. He fumbled his hands all over it, but it was solid rock. Almost in tears and about to set back the way he had come, Samuel felt something cold against his ankles. Ducking low, he could feel a soft breeze coming through a fissure in the rocks. He sucked a finger and then stuck his arm in as far as it would go, feeling the coolness of moving air on the end of his digit. There was nothing left to do but drop onto his stomach and pull himself into the gap. He groaned and grunted beneath the rocks and was terrified for a moment when he became wedged in tight, but a bit of sideways wriggling meant he found a gap and he continued wriggling his way in. The dust filled his sightless eyes and he coughed in the darkness, making echoes that raced in all directions. A crack of light became visible far above through a long, narrow crevice and he turned his head as much as he could to stare at the distant light with one eye. It was impossible to squeeze himself into that tiny crack above and so he lay there for long moments, savouring the delightful presence of sunlight filtering down from somewhere far, far above. He dragged himself on, feeling hope at the mere presence of sunlight, determined to set himself free from the earth’s deathly embrace.

The lone magician dragged himself along the rough stones with renewed vigour. He felt sure that his body would be covered in cuts and bruises, but all that would not matter if he could just get out under the open sky.

Finally, the feeling of confinement vanished and Samuel could feel open space all around as he pulled himself from the crack in the stone. He climbed to his feet and stumbled into the wall, finding his bearings. He laughed aloud as he peered far ahead, for there was something up ahead he could almost see. As he neared the place, he grew more assured and hurried himself along; limping and staggering towards the growing light. He could clearly see the walls around him now and as the tunnel grew into a great yawning cavern, Samuel could see the bright whiteness of day up ahead. He hobbled and pushed himself to go on, until, jubilant, he came to the cavern’s end and careered over onto his stomach to lie in the warm embrace of the sun as it flooded down upon him. At first, he could see nothing and was forced to keep his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Slowly, he became accustomed to the daylight and the shapes and colours of the outside world slowly became apparent.

He lay splayed out in the cave’s mouth, halfway up a short slope and facing another hillside, which also was pocked with numerous similar cave openings. He smiled under the touch of the sun and laughed aloud at being free of the weight of the earth. Never again would he venture into such smothering depths.

He staggered down the slope and made the narrow valley floor. It seemed like afternoon and he supposed he had been trapped beneath the earth all day. He peered up the valley. He guessed that he had come a fair way downhill and that the keep must be located somewhere atop one of these hills. He began hiking on unsteady legs, hoping his sense of direction would somehow serve him true.

A trail of smoke, snaking up into the sky, made Samuel hurry, and it was not long until he clambered up a steep rise and could see the ruined keep. Smoke was slowly curling up from its centre. It had taken some hours to navigate the steep slopes of the escarpment, and now the thought of impending darkness hurried Samuel on. As he neared the keep and began to round its broken walls towards the gate, a shout came up and one of Captain Orrell’s men, Valiant, came running to his side.

‘Where on earth did you come from, Magician?’ the man asked in disbelief.

Samuel smiled and went to answer, but only managed to choke on his words. Valiant had Samuel’s arm slung over his shoulder and began dragging him into the keep. Surrounded by the other magicians, a large fire was burning at the courtyard’s edge. Rocks and rubble lay against the three remaining walls and the buildings behind all lay shattered and broken. Across the centre of the keep, a long depression marked the ground where the earth had fallen in. Samuel thanked his luck he had time to escape, or he would be buried now, far below.

‘Samuel!’ Master Glim and Lomar cried together and they all hurried over to him.

They fussed and bothered over him, asking him all sorts of questions and wondering how he was still alive, and all Samuel could do was cough and laugh; he had strength for little else. They helped him nearer the fire and prepared some bedding. Samuel remembered almost diving down upon it and his head just making contact with the bundle of clothes that would serve as his pillow. After that, sleep had him and he knew no more.

When Samuel awoke, he found himself in Captain Orrell’s camp. The sun was fairly high and he felt like some life had crept back into him. The others had obviously set some spells around him and he felt all the better for them and a decent sleep. He could see everyone’s backs around the campfire. He roused himself and went over to the others, who were speaking loudly, deep in conversation.

‘What are we talking about?’ Samuel asked with a raspy voice, sitting amongst them. ‘And what is there to eat?’

‘It’s good to see you back with the living,’ Lomar said. ‘We are just discussing what on earth to do next.’

Master Glim leaned over and carefully scooped a bowl of steaming hot stew from the pot that was now boiling away over the fire. He handed it, with a spoon, to Samuel who began to throw the food down without even the slightest of hesitation. ‘You gave us a terrible fright, Samuel,’ the teacher said. ‘Even poor Lomar was beside himself with fear that you were lost. Goodness, I’ve never seen him so upset.’

At that, the tall and dark magician looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s only natural to show concern,’ he explained.

‘Now you’re awake, you can tell us how on earth you managed to escape?’ Eric asked from opposite the fire. ‘We all thought you were dead for sure.’

Samuel shrugged his shoulders and swallowed some of his meal. ‘I fell down the well,’ he managed to say through a mouthful of stew.

‘We know that much,’ Lomar said, ‘and we began digging for you as carefully as we could. Of course, we were all horrified when the tunnel collapsed. How did you find your way free?’

‘I could hear you lot doing your best to bring the roof down on me, so I did my best to be out of there,’ Samuel explained. ‘I managed to find my way through the caves eventually, but I honestly thought I would never set my eyes upon the sun again.’

‘Ah,’ Captain Orrell said. ‘I’d heard there were many caves in this area. Lucky for you, I’d say.’

‘What of the creature?’ Samuel asked. ‘I assume the plan was a success. It is dead, isn’t it?’

Master Glim nodded. ‘When we pried back the stones, it was crushed dead, sure enough.’

‘You used enough weight then?’ Samuel questioned, burning his lips as he attempted to shovel down as much food as he could.

‘Half of the keep,’ Master Glim replied. ‘We burned the creature all day and night. Its carcass was quite stubborn and it had a foul stench like nothing else. We made sure to keep a good distance.’

Samuel nodded. ‘Aye. I could not believe the thing was so strong. I wonder how those magicians ever managed to summon it.’

‘We have been discussing the same,’ Master Glim said. ‘I have never heard of such a creature.’

‘The magicians had been tampering with unknown forces,’ Lomar told them. ‘We found a few notes on their studies: black magic and foul arts. It seems they believed they could control anything which they summoned, but they were caught unprepared by what actually arrived. If what Sebastian said was true, they meant to ready the thing for us.’

‘Which leads us to Garret and his men,’ Captain Orrell said. ‘I’m starting to believe that they weren’t even told to meet us here. This whole mission stinks of foul play. It seems we were being sent into an ambush. We’re pulling back to Hammenton today and then it won’t take me long to find out and, when I do, there will be hell to pay. Someone will pay the cost for every one of my lost men.’

Master Glim spoke up. ‘I’ve been thinking about what Sebastian told us. He was certainly mad, but that doesn’t mean he could not have been telling us the truth. I suspect that Ash and Dividian may still be in Cintar, and that they are in league with High Lord Rimus and perhaps others still. We were obviously manipulated into coming here and Rimus seemed quite keen about the whole idea.’

‘We cannot know that for sure, Samuel,’ Lomar rebutted, ‘but it’s true that High Lord Rimus has been behaving strangely since the Emperor’s death.’

‘But why would he want us dead now?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘I know we have not seen eye to eye in the past, but surely he is not one to bear such a piffling grudge against us? I thought the Grand Master had smoothed everything over.’

‘I don’t know if piffling is the correct word,’ Eric suggested. ‘We were branded the Empire’s greatest threat just a short time ago. I would think it more surprising if Rimus had forgiven us.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Captain Orrell said. ‘Are you are telling me there are even more plots within the Order? Is the Emperor’s death not enough?’

‘Perhaps the same plot,’ Master Glim replied. ‘It’s no secret that some people have been using the Emperor’s war plan as a vessel for their own designs. Rimus may have been aiming to be Archmage all along.’

‘And now we are all out of the way, it is a perfect time for him to take the Staff of Elders,’ Lomar said.

‘But he is already going to be Archmage,’ Eric said, ‘so there is no need for him to take it by force.’

‘Unless he plans to take the throne as well,’ Samuel added and everyone looked to him incredulously. ‘It’s possible,’ he stated resolutely. ‘The Argum Stone is still sitting in the High Tower. Added to the power of the Elder Staff, it would give any wielder incredible power-easily enough to defeat a whole city full of guards. Now would be a perfect time for someone to seize control.’

‘No magician could lead the Empire,’ Orrell corrected. ‘The people would not accept anyone not of royal lineage. Even having a woman temporarily in power has caused terrible civil unrest. If any magician tried to take the throne, he would soon find himself missing a head.’

‘I don’t think you are quite hearing what we are saying, Captain,’ Master Glim spoke out. ‘If a magician as powerful as Samuel is suggesting takes the throne, no one-no army-could do anything about it.’

‘I don’t know that any of this sounds feasible,’ Orrell said, sounding decidedly sceptical. ‘You’re trying to tell me that one magician could be powerful enough to overthrow the Empire alone?’

‘Before now, Captain,’ Master Glim questioned, ‘did you think that a creature could be summoned from some despicable hell and almost destroy your entire squad?’ Orrell’s sceptical look vanished. ‘Do you see what we are saying?’

‘Then I suggest we do something about it,’ the captain stated.

‘Exactly,’ Master Glim responded. ‘We’re heading back at once.’

‘But Grand Master Anthem is there,’ Goodfellow said. ‘He will keep an eye on everyone.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ Glim replied. ‘Rimus was quite insistent in getting the Grand Master to come with us, but the stubborn old goat refused. If he is in Rimus’ way, then that spells trouble for him. We should get back immediately.’

‘I’ll join you,’ Orrell said. ‘If what you say is true, then the Empire is in danger.’

‘Very well, Captain,’ Master Glim said. ‘If all this does prove to be true, then I’m sure that our return has been allowed for and we’ll need all the help we can get. We need to return to Cintar as quickly as we possibly can. There’s a slim chance, but the fate of the civilised world could depend on it. Rimus said we have until the month is over, but given that everything else he said has proved false, I would bet my front teeth he’ll try to get his hands on the Staff of Elders as soon as he can.’

‘I’ll ready my men-what’s left of them,’ Orrell said and stood, barking orders to Valiant.

‘How are you feeling, Samuel?’ Lomar then asked. ‘Do you feel ready to travel?’

Samuel groaned. ‘I have to be, but I won’t enjoy it. We need to get back-quickly.’

‘None of you is the best of riders,’ Captain Orrell explained, ‘but if we ride straight through, and change horses wherever we can, we can make it back to the city in about two days. It won’t be easy. We won’t be able to sleep-we’ll barely have time to rest. You’ll be wrecks when you get there. If we had the luxury, it would be better to stretch the ride over three days.’

‘We’ll aim for two, Captain,’ Master Glim informed him.

‘We must go as quickly as possible. Don’t worry. We will persevere,’ Orrell stated.

‘Let’s go,’ Samuel suggested firmly and he stood, ready. ‘I can barely wait to get back to Cintar and see Rimus’ expression when he sees we’ve survived-and then finally, finally get my hands on Ash.’

‘I reckon you’ll get your chance, Magician,’ Captain Orrell said. ‘And I hope you enjoy it.’

They had been hurtling along the roadway for a full day when the magicians had to admit they could not go on. They had exchanged their tired mounts for fresh ones every time they came to an Imperial garrison or met soldiers patrolling the road, but the long hours of constant motion had taken their toll on the magicians. Samuel had been sad to see Jess left behind, but he had no other choice. The animal was spent and no amount of magic was going to keep her on her legs much longer, so they had left her behind in Dunbarton in exchange for a fresh ride.

They had afforded themselves six hours’ sleep in a busy country inn, but Samuel’s head had no sooner touched the pillow than the others were already rousing him. His body ached with each movement, but somehow he managed to stay on his horse hour after painful hour. The others were also feeling the strain, and they all said little, except for the brief moments when they were dropping from one horse to climb upon another.

They were barely half a day from Cintar when heavy rain set in, filling their eyes and making the trip even more miserable. Captain Orrell, leading the way, raised his hand and began to slow his mount. His last four remaining men did the same and the magicians pulled back on their reins, letting their horses fall back into a gentle canter. Ahead, there was a large encampment beside the road and a soldier was hailing for them to stop.

‘Ho, there!’ Orrell called to the man as they neared. Troops were armed and readied at their tents and began to stand and take notice as the magicians arrived.

‘Ho, Captain Orrell!’ the man returned. ‘We have been waiting for you here a long time.’

‘Captain Garret’s company?’ Orrell asked the man.

‘Aye, Sir. He’ll be here momentarily.’

‘What in damnation are you doing here?’ Orrell commanded him to explain. ‘You were supposed to meet us at Hammenton.’

‘Hammenton? I’m sorry Sir,’ the man replied. ‘I haven’t heard anything about that at all.’

A tent flap flew open and a middle-aged, stocky man clanked out. He was not wearing the light riding armour of Captain Orrell, but the heavy plated armour of the city garrisons. He looked almost like a living fortress himself.

‘Captain Garret!’ Orrell called out from atop his mount.

‘Ah, Captain Orrell,’ the other man replied with a rough voice, clanking over. ‘You’ve finally arrived. What’s happened to your squad?’

‘All dead. Just these men are left. I’m taking the magicians back to Cintar.’

‘Ah,’ Captain Garrett returned. ‘Then I need to speak with you. There have been a few developments you should be aware of. Let your men rest a moment and get out of the rain. We’ll ready you fresh horses for the rest of your journey.’

Orrell looked back at the magicians for a moment, and also to his men. ‘Wait here, magicians,’ he told them. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’ He swung himself down and went to talk with the gruff older man out of the rain.

Samuel let his horse step up besides Master Glim’s. Ahead, from a pair of tents, Samuel could see the telltale shimmer of magic emanating.

‘Can you feel it?’ Samuel asked of his teacher.

Master Glim nodded, looking grim.

‘What does it mean?’ Samuel asked him. ‘What would magicians be doing, hiding away like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Master Glim mused. ‘Lomar, what do you think?’

Lomar moved up to the other side of Master Glim. ‘This could be a trap. These men seem unsettled-not as if they have finished their duty by finding us, but rather as if their work is about to begin.’

Samuel looked to Captain Garret’s men. They were eyeing him back and looked serious. They had the look of men who were waiting to act. Lomar was right.

‘Perhaps,’ Master Glim replied. ‘They are readying spells. It can’t be good.’

Just then, Captain Orrell came striding back. ‘It seems Captain Garret can help us. We can eat something and change our horses here before setting off again.’

‘I don’t think so, Captain,’ Master Glim told him, his eyes glancing to Garret’s men. ‘Something here is out of place.’

Captain Orrell looked back at the camp and regarded it for several moments before turning back to the magician.

‘I believe you’re right,’ he said softly. ‘You have good instincts for a magician. If anything happens, make for the city and ride as fast as you can.’ Orrell turned to his men and spoke loudly to Valiant. ‘Lead the magicians to the back of the camp. Tie their horses up there and then come and get something to eat.’ At the same time, Samuel noticed him put his finger to his ear, as if scratching it. Valiant nodded back in quiet understanding, and Samuel was sure they had passed a secret sign.

‘As you wish, Captain,’ Valiant replied.

A slight movement caught his eye and Samuel glimpsed riders gathered amongst the trees.

Captain Orrell nodded to Master Glim. He mouthed the word ‘go’ silently with his lips. With a sudden shout of ‘ya!’, Orrell’s men kicked their heels into their mounts and sent them leaping forward, out of the hands of Garret’s men. Master Glim followed suit and Samuel did the same, followed by the others. Captain Orrell was already astride his horse and ready to follow them.

They galloped away from the camp and into the trees, with Garret’s men shouting in pursuit and with drawn swords. Branches struck Samuel’s face, but he did his best to follow Master Glim’s mount in front. A flash of magic drew this attention and Samuel caught sight of a magician darting through the trees towards them. A spell flew out at Master Glim. It had the look of a Moving spell and Samuel met it with a counter spell of his own. Just then, a battle cry sounded beside him and a man appeared from the bushes, swinging his sword towards Samuel with all his might. Samuel cried out and tried to pull his horse aside, but there was no time. He swung his leg right out of the stirrup as the man’s weapon struck. Samuel’s horse screamed as the weapon bit into it and the animal threw him from the saddle.

Samuel toppled head over heels and crashed into the prickly bushes. His instincts had him back on his feet and running blindly as more cries sounded behind. The others had already sped past on their horses, but Samuel had to carry himself on his own two legs as the sounds of pursuit dogged him. Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of a number of men all pushing through the branches after him. It was then that his next footfall met nothing, and Samuel slipped down an embankment, tumbling through the air and rolling down a muddy slope.

‘After him!’ came cries from behind and men began treading down after him, being careful not to slip down the sides, which had been made treacherous by the rain.

Samuel was on his feet and off again, following the narrow gully as fast as he could go. The sides were rocky and steep, so he continued running along it, hoping to find somewhere he could climb out and lose his pursuers. His thoughts turned to his magic, but he was so fatigued from riding and running that he could barely feel a hint of magic inside himself. He ran until, exhausted, he bent over with his hands on his knees and struggled to regain his breath, stumbling the last few steps. He looked back and could hear the men’s shouts nearing, their armour clanking as they ran after him through the rain.

I have to stop them, Samuel thought to himself. But what good is my magic if I’m always too bloody tired to use it?

He had a pain in his side, but he forced himself to stand upright as the men came into view. They slowed to a walk on sight of the magician waiting before them. Despite their numbers, they were facing a member of the Order, and Samuel’s black clothes gave them reason enough to be tentative. One man nodded for some of the others to move in, and they began to creep towards Samuel with their swords held forward.

Samuel eyed the sides of the gully, but they looked too difficult to climb. The men would be at his back before he had time to even scale part way. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced his shallow breaths to become longer and deeper. He could feel magic far away, lingering beyond his reach and he beckoned for it to come nearer. He could feel the soldiers nearing, but he tried to ignore them as he concentrated on tapping the source. Unarmed and untrained in combat, he had no way to survive against swords of steel. Magic was his only defence and, without it, any magician was helpless-even useless.

Calming his mind, he called again and he was overjoyed as he felt a sudden tug in the pattern towards him-he had it. Magic slowly came creeping in, ever so slowly at first, but growing steadily, more and more. With each heartbeat, his reserves of power increased. Time was what magicians needed most. These soldiers, wary of the lone magician, had given Samuel exactly what he needed to defeat them. When he opened his eyes once again there was a smile on his lips.

The men came at him through the rain. Samuel had not yet decided on any particular spell to use against them, but as the closest man broke ranks and came running forth, magic sprang from Samuel before he knew it. The soldier flew from his feet and sailed clear past his fellows to land skidding along the gully floor behind the others. The others stopped and looked to their comrade with wide eyes as the soldier groaned and unsteadily regained his feet.

Samuel’s smile grew wider as he felt more and more power filling inside him. It was growing greater within him now, swelling to such proportions that he felt he could do anything. The pain in his side and the yearning in his lungs vanished as he took a step towards the armed men.

‘Kill the magician!’ one soldier cried out and they all came charging forward. The first two men were nearer than the others, barely an arm’s length away, when Samuel grabbed them each in turn and sent them flying back, crashing onto the others. The remaining soldiers cried out defiantly as they continued forward with their swords aimed towards him. Just defending against these soldiers was not enough. They would need to be dealt with quickly and finally. And now he had pushed them all to a safe distance, he had gained the space he needed.

Samuel spread his hands wide as he pushed his magic out into the earth. He grasped the rain-sodden, gully walls and, with a sudden surge of power, Samuel brought his arms together. The dark, rocky earth on both sides exploded free and fell in upon the men like great waves crashing down. They only had time to scream and raise their hands to their faces before they were all slammed down and buried beneath the tons of damp earth and stone.

Samuel laughed at the sight, for his magic and fatigue had left him somewhat light-headed. He thought about climbing out of the depression he had made, for roots and stone that he could use as hand-holds stuck out from the earth, but the soil looked unsteady and dangerous. Instead, he turned and continued trotting unsteadily along the gully.

A flash of light gave him a moment’s notice, and Samuel had a spell shield in place as a stream of magic came flying down from the gully top.

‘He’s over there!’ came a distant shout.

Samuel continued on, eyeing the gully sides for any further sign of attack. Ahead, the gully flattened out. A large puddle had formed there and Samuel came splashing out into a large stony quarry. Galloping down on his left came a dozen armoured riders with Captain Garret on a great beast of a horse at the lead and two mounted magicians following at their rear. They spread out before Samuel and their horses snorted and stamped impatiently.

‘Well, it looks as though we’ve caught at least one of your miscreants,’ Captain Garret announced.

‘You should go on ahead after the others, Captain,’ one of the magicians responded. ‘We can take care of this one. He has no power to speak of.’

Garret nodded and was about to turn his horse to leave when Samuel shouted up at him.

‘Don’t think you can be rid of me so easily!’ he called out. The rain felt like ice upon his cheeks.

The grey-bearded captain bared his teeth and smiled. ‘Very well, Magician. Have it your way. We’ll kill you quickly and then be off together. The other traitors will all be rounded up eventually, whether they make it past me or not.’

‘Traitors?’ Samuel responded. ‘It seems you’ve been misled, Captain. No matter. Very well, come kill me if you can.’ His magic was still dancing on his skin, crackling in his skull and tickling behind his eyes.

‘Let me,’ the second magician said. ‘I’ll give it to the Outlander for thinking he can match our Turian blood.’ He was bald-headed, and bore a small, pointed beard. Samuel disliked him immediately.

‘I’d wager you are a true Turian,’ Samuel called to the man.

‘Why is that?’ the bald magician responded, as he climbed down from his horse.

‘Because you are all the same: arrogant, self-righteous and bigoted. You deserve to lose your precious Empire.’

The bald man laughed. ‘And I haven’t met an Outlander like you who didn’t deserve to be crushed.’

The magician called upon his power. He seemed quite strong, but he was not nearly powerful enough. Samuel’s head was light, but he knew he could not lose. He was about to say something clever and demeaning to the man, when a hint of magic at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He dived aside as a great boulder, the size of a wagon, crashed down beside him with a massive boom that shook the earth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where to now?’ Samuel asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Well,’ Master Glim mentioned as they went to the door, ‘we certainly look…unusual. No one will certainly be picking us for magicians in a hurry.’

Samuel managed a smile as they exited the tailor’s store. ‘I think we look rather fetching.’

Peeking outside, they saw no sign of any guards or magicians, so they began again down the street, this time at a much more leisurely pace. The street here led directly to the central market and so was bustling with activity.

After they were jostled and bumped too many times, Master Glim turned to Samuel. ‘I think we should find a quieter route.’

They pushed their way to the side of the street towards a quiet laneway. They could take some back streets for a while and avoid the crowds.

As they squeezed through the people, Samuel noticed an extremely short man, barely reaching to his waist, jostling tightly at his side. Samuel gave the little man a questioning glance and the fellow looked back at him, baring a puckish smile. Samuel turned to Master Glim to say something, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Master Glim’s eyes opened wide. The crowd around them seemed to act as one and fell in upon the two colourful magicians. Someone had Samuel around the legs and he toppled over. As he struggled on the ground, something hard and heavy struck him fair on the head, and the last thing Samuel saw was the sky spinning up and around him and a big, mischievous grin.