The Young Magician

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Samuel looked out through the iron bars and sighed. He surveyed the world outside with his chin cupped in his hands and with his elbows set upon the dusty windowsill. Through the small opening he could not see very much, but the shadows upon the ground far below were stretching longer under the late afternoon sun. Tiny people were moving in the courtyards and gardens beneath them-dark splashes of magicians strolling, glinting soldiers striding, and coloured officials and servants scurrying, going about their duties.

‘We have to get out of here,’ Samuel said. ‘I can’t stand it any more.’ The words caught in his dry throat. He could feel the magic surge and beckon just beyond his reach, but he could not touch it. He felt hollow inside-empty-as if his innards had been torn out and just a dry husky shell was all that was left for him to inhabit.

‘Try not to think about it,’ Master Glim said, sitting up against the wall on the floor. He did not bother to look up, but kept tracing letters on the dusty cell floor with his finger. ‘We can depend on the others to help us. They should come up with some plan to save us soon, assuming they even know we’re here, of course.’

‘It’s been two days already. They could have been caught by now or worse. It’s probably all over by now, anyway.’

‘Calm now, Samuel,’ the level-headed teacher told him. ‘That’s not like you. I’m sure the others are fine and I’m sure nothing has happened yet or we would know about it.’

‘Well, there’s something going on out there,’ Samuel said, straining his head against the bars to see as directly downwards as possible. ‘They’re looking busier than before. There are guards everywhere.’

‘But they’re not running and screaming. That’s what we should be worried about most. Until that happens, we know we still have some time to act.’

‘You’re right,’ Samuel said, and turned away from the window with a sigh.

For the second time in his life, he had awoken to find himself locked in the Mage Cell. Master Glim had been sitting beside him, chewing on an old crust of bread that had been thrust under the door. They were both still dressed in their coloured tunics, but they were considerably scuffed and dirtied all over. The last couple of nights had not been kind to them and Samuel just hoped he did not look as bad as Master Glim.

‘I feel so terrible,’ he moaned plaintively.

After a few empty moments, Master Glim responded. ‘I know. Don’t dwell on it. It will only make it worse. Just be glad we’ve had time to rest. You certainly needed it. I’ve had to stop the guards from taking you away twice. You slept so long that I think they thought you were dead. It was only your infernal snoring that finally convinced them otherwise.’

‘I can certainly think of other places I would have preferred to stay,’ Samuel stated. ‘And I would have slept much better if I hadn’t been lying on a stone floor.’

He pushed his head against the bars once more. There was little else to do up here, except peer out the window as far as was possible. People were still skittering around down below, but there was nothing that hinted at an imminent rescue.

The solitude of the Mage Cell chilled his heart. For his second time within it, he felt no better. In fact, the longer he was held away from the touch of magic, the smaller and colder he felt. Samuel turned away from the window and stalked around the small square cell, rubbing at his forehead in frustration.

He had barely turned away, when a grunt from the window caught his attention and a man’s legs suddenly dropped into view outside the bars.

Samuel pressed his face against the bars and gawked at the tall man swinging around outside. ‘Lomar?’ Samuel said, peering between the bars. ‘When did you learn to fly?’

‘I didn’t,’ Lomar grunted, his face now visible beyond the bars, creased with effort. ‘I’m on a rope-and it’s cutting me in half!’

‘What are you doing out there?’ Samuel asked incredulously.

‘Trying to set you free…and trying not to kill myself in the process!’

‘How, may I ask?’ Master Glim questioned, coming to stand beside Samuel.

‘Spells work perfectly fine out here,’ Lomar explained. ‘Once I get you out, you will be able to spell as much as you please. Now, if you will.’

‘Step back,’ Master Glim urged as Lomar began a spell.

Samuel did as instructed, while Lomar began to concentrate his energy upon the cell window. His spell took hold of the bars, which began twisting and turning as the magic did its work. Flecks of mortar began popping into the air and, one by one, each bar groaned and snapped and clunked onto the floor with a resounding clang.

‘Not bad,’ Master Glim noted, examining the cleared window. The stubs of the bars were hot to the touch and Master Glim’s finger hissed as he tested one. ‘Ai!’ he spat and shook his fingers in the air and sucked on the injured digit. Samuel managed a smile and shook his head at his teacher.

‘Come now!’ Lomar urged with a grunt as he struggled with his makeshift harness. ‘Get out of there before I fall to my death.’

Samuel was first into action. He pushed his head out the window and observed the ground far below. It was distressingly far to the ground and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He gulped and closed his eyes a moment, trying hard to calm himself.

‘Master Pot and Master Goodfellow are assisting me,’ Lomar noted, ‘but my poor stomach can only take so much. Try to hurry along!’

‘Can it hold both of us?’ Samuel asked.

‘It may,’ Lomar responded. ‘But I do not think that the Erics can. They can only take our combined weight for a moment-long enough for you to get out of the cell and cast yourself a spell. I hope you have something suitable ready.’

Samuel nodded. He reached out and grabbed the rope just above Lomar’s head, and pulled himself slowly out. Despite his efforts, they both began to swing around and worried shouts of distress sounded from above.

‘Quickly, Samuel!’ Lomar urged frantically, as they slowly spun in the same place.

Samuel felt helpless as he clung to the rough rope for all he was worth. A long fall awaited him should he slip and the dizzying heights made him all the more giddy. It did not even seem a particularly sturdy rope, all coarse and fraying. Magicians often lacked the more practical skills in life, Samuel quickly noted, such as being able to choose a decent rope and a more effective way of fixing it to Lomar, who looked to be in great discomfort.

Samuel could feel his energy returning and the giddiness from the height was replaced with excitement as his magic returned to him.

‘Samuel!’ Lomar hissed.

Samuel remembered himself and quickly cast out a spell. He pushed his feet out against the tower wall and then his hands followed, so that he clung to the side of the tower like a spider. He still felt nervous, hanging so far above the ground, but a smile lit his face as he enjoyed the taste of magic again.

It was then Master Glim’s turn and he, too, popped his head out the window. He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the ground far below. People were still busy down in the palace grounds but, so far, none seemed to have noticed them. Master Glim sucked his bottom lip, no doubt imagining what would happen should he fall.

‘Master Glim,’ Lomar urged. ‘Hurry! My stomach can’t take much more of this!’

In a moment, Master Glim had mustered his own skills and was out beside Samuel. The man looked terrified as he clung to the wall, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Samuel examined his teacher’s spell. It was not really so great in strength, but quite a mastery of efficiency.

‘You two look like a couple of overgrown butterflies,’ Lomar remarked with a grin, referring to their brightly coloured tunics.

Samuel made a sour face. ‘You don’t like my tunic? It’s very popular with some.’

‘Yes,’ Master Glim agreed, ‘-with women! It was all his idea. Little good it did us.’

Lomar started to laugh and then coughed. His face was turning bright red.

‘Down?’ Samuel asked him, looking far below.

‘Up! Up! Up!’ Lomar exclaimed excitedly and began quickly tugging on the rope.

With a jerk from above, he began to rise, bumping and banging into the wall, grunting and muttering each time. Samuel took one last look inside the Mage Cell. He hoped he never saw its insides again. Nothing had made him feel that terrible for a long time-not since he had lost Leila. It was a different kind of feeling, but it filled him with the same strange despair and hopelessness.

‘Samuel,’ Master Glim said, ‘can you set one of your illusions inside? We don’t want to be missed.’

It took a moment to become calm enough to cast another spell; then Samuel formed an illusion of himself and Master Glim, and set them in the cell. Thankfully, the spell held true and the two images sat quietly beside each other on the floor. Samuel grinned. Turning right side up, he followed Master Glim and the grunting Lomar up the tower’s side.

‘You should try our way,’ Samuel suggested to his lean friend.

‘No, thank you,’ Lomar said. ‘I would not like to see what would happen if you sneezed and forgot your spell, or a mage below noticed you and negated it. Despite the discomfort, this rope is doing me fine.’

‘That’s true,’ Samuel said, with a sudden uncomfortable realisation, and he quickened his pace up the wall.

Samuel leapt over the top of the tower and landed beside a surprised Eric Pot and Eric Goodfellow, both straining with the remains of a long coil of rope.

‘Samuel!’ they exclaimed together.

Master Glim followed him over and then an exceedingly bruised and buffeted Lomar clawed his way over the tall stones. The two Erics collapsed with relief as his weight finally left their hands. Their faces were red and their gloveless hands were raw and blistered. Samuel shook his head at them once more.

‘What has happened?’ Samuel asked.

‘The ceremony is due to begin within the very hour,’ Goodfellow answered. ‘Empress Lillith has vanished and General Ruardin has his men in a frenzy searching for her. The city folk don’t yet know about her disappearance, but when they find out the city will fall into a state of turmoil!’

‘What has happened to Grand Master Anthem?’ Master Glim asked.

‘He’s also nowhere to be found,’ Eric explained. The wind was stronger up here and it tugged at their clothes and whistled amongst the tower-top stones. ‘As we guessed, Rimus has somehow removed the Grand Master from the scene and we fear for the worst for him. We have been blamed for everything!’

Samuel shivered in his thin tunic as it flapped and stuck to his skin. ‘So everyone who could possibly stop him is out of his way, except for us. What about Ash?’ he asked.

‘He still hasn’t been seen,’ Eric responded. ‘We have to be very careful who we speak to in the Order. Nobody knows whom to trust any more.’

‘We’ll discuss it downstairs,’ Master Glim said, himself shivering. ‘It’s a little too open here and far too windy for my liking.’

They all agreed and Eric lifted the heavy trapdoor and they descended into the tower.

They crept down the first narrow flight of stairs, past the door to the Archmage’s chambers. The other upper levels seemed deserted, but they grew more and more cautious as they descended. As they passed the level of the Mage Cell, Lomar urged them all to keep absolutely silent.

‘This level is full of guards,’ he whispered after they had passed the sturdy entrance. ‘After Samuel’s previous escape, they’re not taking any chances. I hope your illusions fool them long enough for us to do our work.’

‘My spells will hold,’ Samuel whispered back. ‘The rest has done me wonders. As long as they don’t ask us any questions and they expect us to actually do nothing but sit and look blankly at each other, the illusions will fool anyone.’

‘With luck, our escape will not be noticed,’ Master Glim said. ‘The councillors will all be busy with the ceremony and the guards won’t be bothered to ask us about anything-I hope.’

After they had descended several more flights of curling stairs, Master Glim stopped and put his ear carefully to an ornate door. After a moment he turned the brass handle and ventured in. ‘In here,’ he whispered.

They crept inside the small chamber, which seemed to be someone’s living quarters. There was a large bed set against the wall, and some black robes hung on a stand by the door.

‘This is Lord Irshank’s chamber,’ Master Glim informed them. ‘I presume he is in the assembly room now, so we should be able to talk here uninterrupted. But first things first. I’ve got to get out of this ridiculous tunic.’ And he scowled again at Samuel.

‘So what do we do?’ Goodfellow asked, as Master Glim and Samuel began looking over Irshank’s enormous robes.

‘We have to keep Rimus from taking possession of the Staff of Elders,’ Samuel stated.

‘Yes,’ Lomar agreed. ‘He’s made us all out to be traitors and set himself up to be Archmage. We have to stop him.’

‘Can we ask the councillors for help?’ Eric questioned.

Master Glim shook his head. ‘No. They may have been planning this with Rimus all the while. Either that or they’ve been fooled by him. As Eric said, we don’t know whom, if anyone, we can trust.’

‘But Rimus is waiting for the ceremony, so all the councillors can’t be aligned with him, or he would just have them undo the Manyspell around the Staff and hand it to him now,’ Goodfellow said.

‘True,’ Master Glim responded, ‘but any one of them could be with Rimus, and we don’t know which ones. Once we act, our advantage of surprise is lost, so we’d better get this right first time.’

‘We could just find Rimus and kill him,’ Eric suggested. ‘That would solve a lot of our problems.’

Master Glim nodded. ‘We could, but we need to ferret out all the conspirators from the Order once and for all. Rimus could be just another pawn and, if we simply killed him, we may never find the true masterminds behind all this. It’s all become very convoluted and I cannot believe Rimus has orchestrated all this alone. No, we need to know where the Grand Master and the Empress are and we need to find Dividian and Master Ash. Once we do that, we can finally finish this sorry mess.’ He had slipped on one of Irshank’s robes and was securing it with cords-for it was far too big for him. ‘But first, we need to stop this infernal ordination.’

‘Wait,’ Samuel said. ‘What happened to Captain Orrell?’

‘After we returned to the city, he went to speak with General Ruardin,’ Lomar responded, ‘but we have not heard from him since. Who can guess what has happened?’

‘So what do we do?’ Goodfellow asked of those around him.

‘We must hurry,’ Samuel suggested. He had begun to rummage through Irshank’s drawers and had found a faded old cloak that seemed almost the right size. ‘The ceremony is about to begin. Rimus will be Archmage and he will have his hands on the Staff of Elders. Whatever he has been planning will be that much closer to him and our task will be much more difficult. I say we go in there now and confront him while we can.’

Master Glim eyed Samuel back levelly while he contemplated the idea.

Eric nodded. ‘I agree. The room will be full, but it may be the last chance we have. The Lions will support us at the very least.’

‘If we’re lucky, we can reveal Rimus’ plans for what they are and there won’t be any need for violence,’ Goodfellow put in.

Master Glim looked at Lomar.

‘I think we have little choice,’ the tall man responded.

Master Glim looked unconvinced and he chewed the thought over for a few moments. ‘Our plans seem based on hunches and hope. I was hoping for something a little more sound.’

‘If we can at least make our accusations before the entire gathering, it will grant us some time,’ Lomar said.

‘Then let’s go,’ Master Glim finally declared. ‘We have precious little time, but let’s take care-be prepared for anything.’

They all agreed and cautiously left the room, with Master Glim and Samuel in their borrowed, ill-fitting robes.

They reached the bottom of the tower without passing a soul and entered the palace proper, nodding to the busy servants they met there. They walked the many long halls without incident and crossed over to the High Tower. They began up its stairs towards the assembly chamber, where small events and meetings could be held. Guards were hurrying all about, but they paid the group no heed.

When they reached the third level they branched away from the stairs towards the assembly chamber, following the long rolls of red carpet. Two armed men met them at the wide single door to the room.

‘Strange to see such men at an Order ceremony,’ Samuel noted.

‘That’s to ensure Rimus’ plans all go to plan-so to speak,’ Master Glim replied. ‘This is anything but a normal Order ceremony.’

The two men seemed to recognise the group for who they were and were reaching for their swords when they both slumped to the floor, put to sleep with a flick of Master Glim’s wrist.

Samuel stepped over them and led the way into the assembly chamber. It was an imposing room, easily able to seat two or three hundred people on its long rows of benches. The chamber was full of magicians who were buzzing with talk but, luckily, the ceremony had not yet begun. Most of those gathered were younger Masters, while the minority were many of the old magicians who had missed the slaughter in the palace and had now come to Cintar to witness the new Archmage being appointed. Some stood in the aisles and talked in small groups with each other, while the elder mages sat soberly in their places, waiting patiently. There had not been a new Archmage in most men’s lifetimes, so the event was cause for quite some interest.

The Staff of Elders stood in the centre of the staged area, held upright on an ornate stand of polished, curved wood. Samuel could see an intricate web of spells around it-five spells from five different people, and they were tied in a marvellous way-simultaneously cast to be intertwined and interdependent in an ingenious knot of magic. Each spell would need to be removed simultaneously in order to get at the Staff. Given time, Samuel was sure he would be able to defeat such measures-as when he had dispelled the Emperor’s protection spells-but he doubted that anyone here would be willing to give him the opportunity.

The councillors were seated in the front row and, as Samuel looked down, Lord Vander, shortest amongst the men, turned and spotted him. The man’s eyes opened wide and he began alerting the other councillors at once. Samuel leapt down the stairs and the others followed, but the councillors had already stood up to intercept them.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Lord Hathen boomed up at them, standing in the aisle and blocking their path with his hefty frame.

Lord Vander put his hands on his waist and cleared his throat. He glared at Samuel and looked set to explode. ‘You people are wanted felons! You should not be here!’ he stated angrily. ‘And you!’ he looked directly at Samuel, ‘have escaped once again from the Mage Cell! This cannot be tolerated! That blasted thing is useless!’

‘Hold a moment, Lord Vander,’ Master Glim urged with a raised palm. ‘We had nothing to do with the Emperor’s death, or that of the Archmage. That was plain for everyone to see and we have no idea of what has happened to the Empress.’

‘You are a disgrace, Master Glim!’ Master Irshank bellowed, making his drooping chins wobble about furiously. He then looked about the room. ‘Somebody go fetch some more guards.’

‘Such nerve!’ Lord Butler said from behind, adding to the other councillors’ disdain.

Samuel noticed two cloaked figures quietly stand and approach from the side of the room. Their auras spoke of power and they were readying their spells. Samuel looked around, hoping to spy the five Lions, but the celebrated magicians were nowhere to be seen.

‘We have to stop the ceremony, My Lords,’ Master Glim went on. ‘High Lord Rimus cannot be Archmage.’

‘Nonsense,’ Irshank stated defiantly. ‘The ceremony will go on.’

‘At least delay it another few days,’ Lomar urged. ‘Wait for Grand Master Anthem to return. Wait for the Empress to be found.’

Samuel could feel the tension of magic building in the chamber, and he realised that a confrontation was inevitable. He began to gather his own power in response.

‘That layabout! No one has seen him in days,’ Irshank stated. ‘He’s no better than the lot of you. He was probably even helping you with your vile plot to ruin the Empire. Now I will give you two choices. You can sit down and shut up or get out! Either way, you can all expect to be facing the most severe punishment when this is over. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Empress decides to hang you from the highest yard-poles-whenever they find her. I’m sure General Ruardin will certainly be interested in getting his hands on you.’

‘Don’t you think it’s strange?’ Master Glim asked the councillors, ‘that just when the Empress vanishes, Grand Master Anthem also disappears and High Lord Rimus still insists on going on with the ceremony before any of this can be resolved? Why would it matter to postpone the ceremony for a few more days-a week, even?’

‘No,’ Irshank replied defiantly, ‘I don’t think it’s strange at all. The Empire is in danger of falling into chaos and what it needs is a figurehead-a stout Turian who knows the people and knows what they want! We need the power of the Staff ready to protect us. The city is on the verge of revolt. We need a new Archmage now!’

‘The Empire will not collapse in a matter of days, Lord Irshank,’ Master Glim told the weighty lord. ‘What we need to do is move slowly and carefully so we don’t do anything foolish.’

‘I don’t care what you believe,’ Irshank retorted. ‘The ceremony is going ahead and High Lord Rimus will be Archmage before the afternoon is done.’

‘But Rimus can’t be Archmage,’ Samuel insisted. ‘He set a trap for us in Hammenton! He is probably in league with Ash and Master Dividian and who knows who else!’

‘What’s that?’ came a voice, smooth as honey, as Rimus stepped into view at the front of the room, appearing from behind a set of heavy, velvet curtains. ‘Why can’t I be Archmage?’ And all eyes turned to him as he stepped towards the Staff of Elders in the centre of the chamber.

‘Damn you, Rimus,’ Master Glim shouted at the man. ‘What have you done with Grand Master Anthem?’

High Lord Rimus merely smiled. ‘Done with him? Why nothing. I don’t have a clue where he could be-out looking for the Empress, I imagine. If he turns up and can validate your fantastic story, I’ll pass the Staff on to him for safe keeping-how does that sound?’

‘That’s a lie!’ Eric spat out. ‘What have you done with him?’

‘Ugh!’ Rimus voiced with disdain. ‘I have no patience for such barbarianism! You Outlanders can be so terribly vulgar.’

Eric was set to launch himself forwards, clenching his fists tight, but Lomar held him firm.

‘We can beat him,’ Samuel whispered to Master Glim.

‘No, Samuel,’ Master Glim said surely. ‘It’s too dangerous. This room is full of power.’

A grand smirk crawled across Rimus’ face. ‘Call the guards. Take them away,’ he called out. ‘Use any means necessary.’

With that, everyone who had not already done so began to ready spells. Some magicians, most notably the younger ones, began hurrying up the aisles and out through the chamber door, fearful of what might unfold, while others gathered nearer, readying to support one side or the other. Samuel looked from the corners of his eyes. The two mysterious magicians loomed near, dripping with power of blinding silver. Sweat began to trickle down Samuel’s brow. His magic swelled to the brim and he set himself to loose it free-but Master Glim called out above the din that had arisen in the room.

‘What a room full of fools! Calm yourselves down. There’s no need for lost tempers. It can only bring misfortune upon us all to unleash our spells here. Magicians must never use magic against one another! It’s against everything we have worked for. Everyone sit down, take a breath and start using your heads.’

At that, a few faces relaxed. Samuel felt the goosebumps on his skin subside and he, too, let his power slowly recede in turn as the room returned to calm.

Master Glim turned back towards Rimus. ‘We concede, High Lord Rimus. Continue with the ceremony. We will not hinder you any further and you can deal with us how you wish afterwards. We were only trying to establish the truth here. We can just as easily do that after the ceremony, can’t we? Go on. Take your Staff.’

Samuel looked to his teacher in an effort to ascertain the man’s intentions, but Master Glim gave nothing away and Samuel dared not ask now. Rimus wrinkled his brow and looked doubtful; then he made a narrow smile.

‘As you wish, Master Glim,’ he conceded. ‘Take your seat and we shall continue. When we are finished here, you will be dealt with.’

‘Master Glim!’ Eric began, but Master Glim silenced him with a stern glance.

‘Come,’ Master Glim urged them, ‘let’s sit quietly and watch.’

The magicians in the chamber all gradually returned to their places, mumbling and bickering amongst themselves as they went. When Samuel and his group had seated themselves a few benches back, Goodfellow whispered over to Master Glim.

‘What are we going to do?’ he asked.

Master Glim again raised a calming palm. ‘We cannot risk such a confrontation here. We must wait for another chance.’

‘But we can’t let him take the Staff,’ Samuel whispered. ‘Once he has it, none of us will be able to stop him.’

‘What would you have us do, Samuel?’ Master Glim hissed, for the first time showing signs of ill temper, ‘-start a battle here? The palace would fall down around us and we’d all be killed. We must wait and see what will unfold.’

Samuel conceded and sat back in his seat.

‘Then, let us continue,’ Lord Irshank called out, ‘and, after all this ruckus, I think we’ll just omit all the formalities and get straight to the heart of the matter.’

In front of them, High Lord Rimus has taken a seat on a nearby seat, casually crossing his legs, while the five councillors who had bound the Staff of Elders-Lords Vander, Irshank, Butler, Needle and Joneson- now formed a circle around it. They began to spell and Samuel could feel that their power was intensely focused. Their weaves struck out at the Staff and their spells then began to intermingle. Samuel marvelled at the sight, for the five men were acting entirely by feel. They had no way of directing their weaves visually as Samuel could. They continued for a long while, slowly untying their own knots of power, releasing the knots of the spells beside them. Eventually, Samuel could see that the process was almost done and they began to quicken their pace as their dispelling neared its end. Sweat was beading on their foreheads and, finally, the Manyspell lock around the great Staff of Elders fell away and was gone.

‘What do we do now?’ Eric whispered to Master Glim.

‘I don’t know,’ was their teacher’s only reply and Samuel realised that the man really did not have any plan at all.

‘Is it done then?’ Rimus asked and, on spying a weary nod from Lord Irshank, he stood up and went over to the Staff of Elders. ‘Wonderful!’ he said and plucked the Staff out of its cradle. He began turning it over and examining the thing in his hands, looking very pleased.

‘The Royal Guard are here!’ someone called down from the doorway.

Rimus glanced up, looking very pleased. ‘At last! Tell them they can take these traitors away.’

A golden-armoured soldier stepped through the doorway, but it was not some lowly guard as Rimus expected. It was General Ruardin, himself.

‘What’s going on here?’ he shouted out across the chamber as a host of soldiers began to file in and line the walls on either side of him. Captain Orrell came in last and stood beside the general. He looked quite flushed and he seemed anxious.

Rimus’ smile seemed to lose some of its sincerity and his lips began twitching around the edges, as if tired of their unnatural pose. ‘Thank you for coming, General!’ Rimus called up to the imposing general. ‘You’re just in time. The traitors have finally been caught. You can take them away with you now.’

Ruardin shook his head and walked part-way down the stairs. ‘I don’t think so. I understand that there is more going on here than I have been told.’ And he looked around the chamber, scrutinising the magicians there. Everyone seemed to squirm under his gaze. ‘I’m fed up with you magicians and your schemes. What’s happening here? Why wasn’t I told of this?’

‘We didn’t think you needed to know,’ Lord Irshank replied. ‘With all the events in the palace, we didn’t want to trouble you.’

‘I need to know everything!’ Ruardin boomed and every magician in the room shrank back, for the man’s presence was overpowering. ‘What gives you all the nerve to hold this ceremony without my knowledge or consent? What gives you all the right to hand out the Staff of Elders as if it were a child’s plaything?’

‘It’s Order business, General,’ the stocky Lord Vander replied defiantly.

‘There is no Order business!’ Ruardin shouted back. The veins in his temples were staring to pulse with anger. ‘Everything is Empire business! Your precious Staff of Elders belongs to the Empire, and the Empire, not the Order, chooses whom to give it to and when to give it!’

‘Excuse us, General,’ Vander peeped, but Ruardin barely heard him.

‘I want this ceremony to cease,’ Ruardin continued, ‘and I have questions for all of you-especially you, High Lord Rimus! From this point on, I am assuming you are all guilty of treason until the Empress is found and some questions can be answered.’

Rimus surprised the room by laughing out loud and all eyes turned to him with disbelief. Few people would dare scoff in the general’s presence.

‘You old goat!’ Rimus said. His grin now looked evil and quite out of place, somehow not suited to his face. Samuel sensed a change in his attitude. Even his voice seemed different, somehow awfully familiar. ‘I couldn’t care less about your Empress or your pathetic Empire. All I have ever wanted is power-and now I have it! You see, the ceremony has already finished and with this, the Staff of Elders, in my hands, no one-least of all you, General-can stop me.’

‘What!’ Ruardin roared out, putting his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Lord Vander looked highly confused. ‘What do you mean, High Lord Rimus? What are you talking about?’

‘Prepare for the end!’ Rimus called out, as if his words were enough to strike everyone down. He began to lift the Staff of Elders, intent on wielding its power, but a knife flew across the room in an instant, past Rimus and biting into the wall behind him. Samuel looked up and saw that Captain Orrell was standing primed, having thrown the narrow blade himself from far across the room.

Rimus reached up to his neck, where the skin was sliced from front to back. A thin, red line traced around across his throat and a gush of bright fluid burst out, jetting blood across the floor. Rimus dabbed at the wound with his hand and then looked at his bloodied fingers with disbelief written on his face. The room was silent. All were waiting with their mouths hanging open, for the wound was surely mortal.

‘Gods!’ someone cried out.

‘They’ve killed him!’ gasped another.

Strangely, the blood stopped flowing after that first gush and Rimus’ horror became a look of amusement. ‘Oh, no,’ he said calmly. ‘You can’t kill me quite so easily. I haven’t been around so long without learning a few tricks of my own.’

Rimus then reached up and scratched at the wound on his neck and, much to everyone’s surprise, he dug his nail into the flesh and pulled away a large piece of his own throat. Instead of howling in pain, Rimus only smiled more as his face began to sag and fall away in chunks. Everyone was aghast as the flesh seemed to fall from Rimus’ face as if he had, for some reason, literally begun to fall apart.

Slowly, Samuel realised what was happening. Rimus’ hands went to his face and clawed away the dissolving flesh and skin and muck. Recognisable beneath the dripping, wax-like skin was the face of Ash. He stretched his arms back and laughed as he shook the sticky remnants of the other man’s guise from himself.

‘By the gods, Ash!’ Vander cried out. ‘What have you done!’ The stocky man darted in deceivingly quickly and put both hands on the Staff of Elders. Ash was taken by surprise and they both began to tussle over the long staff.

‘Give me that!’ Vander commanded. He was stronger than the taller man had expected and looked about to tear the Staff from Ash’s grip.

‘Damn you, you horrid little dwarf!’ Ash swore out loud.

With that, Ash drew a small vial from his pocket and slapped it so it broke against Lord Vander’s head. Vander began to scream at once. He let go of the Staff and began reeling around and clutching at his face, screeching all the while. His skin peeled back and his blood began boiling out from eyes and ears. The other councillors stepped away in fear as Lord Vander’s body fell smoking and lifeless to the ground. Even General Ruardin stood full of trepidation at the sight.

The congregation leapt to its feet as Ash laughed and drew another tiny vial from his pocket. With glee, he then tossed it up into the fleeing crowd. Panic erupted all around as the glass shattered onto a bench-back, splashing the hissing and smoking fluid all around. The room was turned to anarchy as suddenly everyone was up and scrambling to escape. They clambered over everything and each other to get up and away, and magicians began shouting and pushing up the aisle, throwing the Royal Guards aside in their haste to get out the door.

Ash only laughed again as muck continued to drop away from under his clothes. He drew out another vial and whispered into it. A white beam flashed out and turned a fleeing magician to thrashing screaming flames while those around him leapt aside, desperate to be away from the inferno.

General Ruardin had been pushed to the floor and was struggling to stand, while the councillors were all too aghast to do much of anything.

‘Come to me, fools, or be damned!’ Ash declared ferociously. ‘Now is not the time to be yellow-bellied. It’s kill or be killed!’

The barrel-chested Lord Hathen was the first to move. He shook the fear from himself and scurried to Ash’s side, eyeing the chaotic scene around him with open-mouthed apprehension. The two mysterious cloaked figures also came forward to stand by Ash and had their shields in place to stop any further attacks upon their master.

Lord Irshank stood stunned and full of bewilderment. ‘Hathen!’ he cried. ‘What are you doing?’ but the other man only scowled back at him.

‘Irshank!’ Ash declared. ‘You’re a fool! It’s too late now. You’ve been helping me all along whether you knew it or not! They’ll never believe you. Kill these fools and I will give you everything I promised. Back out now and they will have your head hanging from the palace walls, I swear to you!’

Irshank looked absolutely aghast. He glanced about at his fellows in total disbelief. Finally, he climbed up to stand beside Lord Hathen, looking quite forsaken.

‘Destroy them!’ Ash cried out, retreating behind his loyal servants. He still pulled at the last shreds of matter that clung to his face, flicking them away like stubborn leaches. Fluid and ooze dripped from his sleeves and slapped onto the floor. He carried the Staff of Elders away and vanished back behind the curtains, leaving a trail of muck behind him.

At that, spells began to fly out into the fleeing crowd, but Master Glim threw a shield spell into place. Lomar joined his spells with Master Glim’s and together they struggled to stop the volley of spells that pummelled them.

‘Well?’ Master Glim said to Samuel, and Samuel threw a spell up beside his teacher’s. The two Erics quickly followed suit.

‘What’s happening here?’ Ruardin called out, having pushed through the fleeing magicians to stand behind Samuel and his friends. People were still pushing their way out, but it would take some time yet before the room was emptied.

‘We’re trying to save everyone’s lives, General,’ Master Glim told him. ‘I recommend you and your men leave at once. This room may not be here much longer!’

‘Are you serious, man?’ Ruardin asked in disbelief.

Just then, a spell penetrated their shields and struck one of Ruardin’s Royal Guards as he was taking cover behind the benches. The man screamed and burst into dust and bones.

‘Yes, General,’ Master Glim replied adamantly. ‘I’m serious. There’s nothing you or your men can do now.’ A bench beside Master Glim suddenly vanished, exploding up into the ceiling.

‘Very well, Master Glim,’ Ruardin said worriedly. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘Don’t worry, General. Just take your men and wait downstairs. Catch anyone that comes out of the tower. If they don’t stop, kill them. And if anyone but us comes out with the Staff of Elders…be prepared.’

Ruardin nodded gravely. ‘I understand,’ he said, and began to back up the aisle as fast as someone of his proportion possibly could. The magicians had all managed to escape and, with one gesture from the general, the soldiers hastened out also, leaping over bench-backs and up the aisle. Captain Orrell was the last to leave, backing out of the chamber with concern engraved deeply on his face.

‘Eric!’ Master Glim called out with some difficulty.

‘Yes?’ Eric Pot answered beside Samuel.

‘Not you!’ their teacher growled. ‘The other one!’

‘Oh, yes?’ Goodfellow responded, daring to open one of his eyes.

‘I want you to go out and help the general. Send his men to find the Lions as fast as you can. Ash may have sent them somewhere during the ceremony. He obviously didn’t want them here, lest they interfere. Find them and get them here as fast as you can. Our lives may depend on it.’

‘Yes, Master Glim,’ Goodfellow said and hurried away, looking over his shoulder as spells kept shattering against their shields. He was at the doorway and away in moments.

‘What are we going to do?’ Samuel asked. ‘We can’t keep this up forever. They’re pulling our spells to pieces!’

‘Don’t…worry,’ Master Glim responded with some difficulty. ‘We just need a little…more…time.’ Just then, a spell came sizzling toward them and Master Glim matched it with one of his own. ‘There!’ he cried with joy. ‘Got it!’ The two spells hung in the air, locked together.

Another spell came forward and Master Glim guessed correctly once more. His timing was impeccable and, again, he locked the spell in place. The air buzzed with another spell and this time Lomar had it.

‘Well done!’ Master Glim shouted.

More and more spells came at them and Master Glim and Lomar caught as many as they could, until a knot of spells began to form above them. Finally, Samuel realised what they were doing. It was the Magicians’ Game. Irshank, Hathen and the two unknown magicians also realised what was happening, and they desperately began trying to match Lomar and Master Glim’s counter-spells, for Samuel’s friends had the advantage to begin with. The game had begun, and each side kept frantically throwing out spells to catch the other’s. Whoever gained enough foothold in the game would have control over the combined power of all the spells above. The energy trapped therein was growing and, when either side fell too far behind, the total sum could be used upon them. All the while, they continued sending spells to check each other’s defences. It was a cunning and complicated game of wit.

Samuel saw a spell coming and shot up a counter-spell of his own. His aim was true and the two magics locked in place.

‘No, Samuel!’ Master Glim told him. ‘You can’t help! You and Eric must go after Ash.’

Samuel nodded, and stood to leave, but a spell flying forth had him ducking back down behind the seat in front of him. If he and Eric left, Master Glim and Lomar would be outclassed and outnumbered by the four master magicians below. The game would not last long.

Just then, a flurry of spells came pouring down from the doorway in volumes. It was old Master Sanctus who had joined the fray, hobbling down the carpeted steps with magic pouring from his sleeves like streams of billowing ribbons. There was a smile set on his face, like a mirthful boy, and he began trapping spells left, right and centre, throwing fake spells and trap spells all over to keep his opponents busy.

‘Hurrah!’ Lomar yelled with glee.

‘Go now!’ Master Glim commanded. ‘We can last here!’

‘Are you sure?’ Samuel asked.

‘Go!’

Samuel and Eric stood and raced back up the stairs. Spells flew at their heels, but Master Glim protected them as they went, catching each spell and adding it into the game. They made through the doorway and out into the abandoned hall, leaving the hiss and flashing of magic behind them.

‘Where are we going?’ Eric asked as they sprinted for the main stairway.

‘Where Ash is going,’ Samuel replied. ‘For the Argum Stone. I’m guessing he needs the Staff to finish awakening the thing. Once he does that, he could be unstoppable.’

‘But what is going on, Samuel?’ Eric asked. ‘What has been happening? Where is Rimus?’

‘I don’t know,’ Samuel replied, jumping up the first flight of stairs. ‘Probably dead.’

They made it up into the tower proper and ran down the hall to the next stairway. The place seemed completely deserted. Perhaps General Ruardin had cleared it upon Master Glim’s warning or perhaps everyone had simply run on sight of the other fleeing magicians. They went up many levels and Samuel’s legs started burning before long and he could barely keep up the pace. He found himself quickly wishing this tower had the same climbing spells set in it as the smaller Mage Tower.

Crossing another hall, they turned a corner to find three men waiting on the stairs. They had swords ready in their hands and looked ready to kill. Samuel assessed them in an instant-they were mercenaries. Samuel and Eric stopped, labouring for breath and eyeing the men warily.

‘Turn back. To come this way means your death,’ one man told them plainly and without flourish. He had a strange lilting accent that meant he was definitely not Turian. Samuel took him as the leader.

‘Let us pass!’ Samuel ordered, his chest still heaving.

The man shook his head slowly. ‘Lullander!’ he called and a plain-clothed magician scuttled down the stairs from behind him, already preparing a spell.

The leader signalled and the other two mercenaries darted forward at the same time, brandishing their weapons. Samuel immediately cast a spell and froze them in their places.

The leader swore and stepped back defensively, unsure. ‘Lullander!’ he called out again in frustration. ‘Don’t just stand there like a fool! Do something!’

At that, the magician threw down a spell. Samuel diverted it easily with a spell of his own, but in that instant, the mercenary leader had taken his opportunity, springing forwards, quick as lightning. Equal doses of surprise and pain hit Samuel as the man’s fist collided with his cheek. Eric yelled out in pain beside him and Samuel only recovered his senses in time to see the mercenary leader dance backwards, drawing his sword, slick and glistening from Eric’s belly. Eric fell onto the carpet, howling aloud and clutching at his stomach as his blood poured free.

‘Eric!’ Samuel cried, but a flash of magic caught his attention as the magician, Lullander, spelled again. It was the same spell as before-a simple binding spell that could potentially stop some vital function of the victim. Samuel had already surmised that Lullander was a pitiful excuse for a magician and he had no trouble deflecting the spell again. And this time, he threw one of his own back at the mage for good measure. Lullander managed to catch Samuel’s spell with one of his own spell shields, but it left the man looking quite shaken.

‘What are you doing, Lullander!’ the mercenary shouted to his comrade. ‘You really are a good-for-nothing!’

‘Blast!’ the magician replied. ‘He’s too strong!’

With that, Lullander began backing up the stairs and then turned and fled.

‘Damn you, coward!’ the mercenary shouted after him. He then turned and faced Samuel. ‘Well, Magician. You have bested us all. If Lullander cannot defeat you, I will not risk my neck for this kind of venture. You can pass.’ With that, he gave another flourish and a short bow.

Samuel was unsure and readied a spell to fling at the man.

‘Your friend seems mortally wounded. Perhaps you should see to him before he loses any more of his blood. Don’t waste your time on me if you want him to live.’

‘This isn’t a trick?’ Samuel asked warily.

‘No,’ the man replied and dropped his sword onto the carpeted stairs. ‘It’s only money. I don’t know what these magicians have been up to, but it’s clear they are not on the winning side. I will gladly be out of here while you go and find whatever fate awaits you upstairs. I apologise for the inconvenience.’

With that, he stepped neatly past Samuel and strode down the hall. Samuel was certainly not bothered to chase him-Ruardin’s men would catch him downstairs-and he dropped to Eric’s side.

‘It really hurts!’ Eric said, clutching at his gushing wound. His entire front was bathed in blood and Samuel guessed from the rate of it, the injury was serious.

‘Don’t worry,’ Samuel told him. ‘I’ll help you,’ and quickly cast a spell to slow the bleeding.

‘Go!’ Eric howled out. ‘You need to go after Ash.’

But Samuel was hesitant. ‘You can’t stave off the bleeding by yourself, Eric. If I leave you, you will die.’

‘No!’ Eric hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll be all right. You can’t risk wasting any power on me. If I can get myself to the others, they can save me. Don’t worry. I can manage.’

Something in Eric’s tone told Samuel he was hinting at something beyond the obvious. It took him a moment to realise what it could be. ‘You finished the Journey Spell?’

Eric gripped his arm with desperate strength. ‘I’m sorry, Samuel!’ he declared. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know. It was more trouble than it was worth.’

‘Just go, now while you still have the strength. I will stop the pain as much as I can.’ With that, Samuel did his best to lesson his friend’s discomfort.

‘That’s good,’ Eric said, opening his eyes and looking calm. ‘Now get back. You don’t want to be too close when this happens.’

Samuel did as he was told as a web of magic bloomed into being around his friend and immediately began weaving itself into an intricate design of utmost beauty and perfect symmetry. It was as if a crystal web of delicate cross-spans and concentric circles had forged itself in the air. Numerous opposite edges began knitting together, perfectly synchronised.

‘He’s doing it,’ Samuel heard himself whisper, just as the spell clicked into place and finished itself.

In that instant, Eric vanished. His magic snapped down to an infinite point at its centre and vanished along with him, following Eric to wherever he had gone. Unlike the last time, there was no terrible residue left behind. Eric had formed the spell perfectly and had simply journeyed away.

Barely believing what he had just witnessed, Samuel turned away and began up the stairs, past the two frozen mercenaries. He continued up stair after stair, climbing ever higher into the massive High Tower of Cintar.

Samuel could feel the magic of the Magicians’ Game still escalating below. He only hoped his friends were up to the task. With all the power he could feel in that room already, the losers would most likely not survive.

That was nothing, however, to what he could feel gathering above. Somewhere above him in the Argum Stone’s chamber, something was gathering magic in enormous volumes. Vast quantities of energy were being called into being-a massive pool of magic that already felt beyond all natural limits-and it was still growing by the moment.

Samuel hurried up the stairs past a few worried servants as they all fled down. Presumably, they had bolted themselves in their rooms, but now the tower had begun to sway, they had decided that fleeing was the better choice. Their concerned faces eyed the dust that shook loose from the ceilings and the walls as the tower shook and trembled. It did not bode well.

Panting and with burning legs, Samuel finally arrived before the door to the Argum Stone’s chamber. Magic was forming all around and gathering, bursting into existence and surging into the room. Gingerly, Samuel tested the door, but it was bolted firmly. Whatever was inside was incredibly dangerous and he was not even sure he wanted to go in.

‘You there!’ came a voice from along the hall.

It was the magician, Lullander. He began to approach down the corridor, but his steps slowed and stopped when he recognised Samuel. He turned and ran without a pause. There were only a few more floors above in the tower, so Samuel assumed the man was going to go huddle out of view and bide his time until all this was over.

Samuel promptly returned his attention to the door. There was little time left for subtleties. He summoned a fist of energy and blew the thing right in.

A blinding, white light greeted him inside and he had to subdue his sense of sight to almost nothing just to see into the room. Revealed within was an intense cloud of energy, convulsing and contorting above the Argum Stone, which itself was glowing white hot, cradled in a frame that held it upright. Magic came from everywhere, manifesting from the very air, and was being sucked into the churning cloud. It twisted and pulsed spasmodically, as if somehow trying to resist the forces that drew it together. There was a noise in Samuel’s head like titanic stones grinding together and he could hear his own blood surging in his ears. The experience was overpowering, almost too much to behold by his senses, yet he did not flee. Standing in the room was something-someone-who had a stronger grip on his attention, outweighing any thoughts of turning away. Standing there was a man that Samuel could not take his eyes off, for killing him had become the very reason for his existence. Ash.

Ash was standing across the room, arms-folded, next to another black-cloaked magician. It took Samuel a moment to realise that the second man was Master Dividian. He had the Staff of Elders in one hand, outstretched towards the enormous form of the Argum Stone. He was forging a Great Spell upon the ancient relic, pouring the tremendous power he had summoned with the Staff of Elders in upon it. His eyes were sealed shut and his body shook with sweaty exertion. Dividian’s lips were moving and Samuel could sense the vibrations of each word as they formed on his tongue in the Ancient Lick. Dividian continued on, heedless of Samuel’s entrance, but Ash had clearly noticed him and smiled.

‘You’re just in time, Samuel,’ Ash called out. ‘You’re about to witness something fantastic.’

Samuel stepped into the room and glared back at the man.

‘Doonan!’ Ash called out and a very small man came scuttling over from near one of the bookshelves. He was barely waist-high and Samuel had not even noticed him before, although he certainly remembered him. ‘The spell is almost ready. Go and tell Balten his prize will be ready soon.’

‘I’m supposed to stay here,’ the midget responded in a fierce and squeaky voice.

‘Do as you’re told, you vile little man!’ Ash retorted. ‘Balten will get what he wants, just go tell him to hurry up and come get it. You may have some trouble downstairs, but I trust you can get out of the palace somehow.’

The midget shrugged and began to leave the room. As he passed Samuel, he looked up with a secretive smile before scuttling out the door.

‘You have certainly proved yourself to be a thorn in my side, young Master Samuel,’ Ash then declared. ‘Time and time again I think I am rid of you and then, once again, you appear to meddle with my affairs.’

‘I’m just trying to return the favour,’ Samuel returned. ‘You ruined my life and I vowed I would not rest until I saw you dead.’

‘Well, this is the last time you shall bother me,’ Ash called, ‘for it is much too late for you to do much of anything. As you can see, the spell is almost complete and the power of the Argum Stone is about to be released. Nothing can stop it now.’

Samuel’s gaze flicked towards the great relic, which was starting to resonate with the power of the spell above it, shaking and rattling about in its magic-imbued wooden cradle.

Ash continued on. ‘The Circle have been watching you, Samuel, or so I am told. It seems you are quite the magician. If I had managed to kill you, they would probably have been quite annoyed with me for ruining their plans. Perhaps I should have let you join me. We could have done wonderful things together. Then again, you are quite useless to me now.’

‘You’re a thief and a murderer, Ash. No matter what you say, I will see you dead before this day ends.’

Ash laughed again. ‘You seem to have no comprehension of the situation. Can you not see what is about to happen?’

‘I only speak the truth. No mage can match me. I have destroyed all who have tried.’

‘So it’s true then!’ Dividian said, pausing momentarily from his spell work to open his eyes and look at Samuel. Almost straight away, he realised what he was doing and returned to the task at hand before his spells became unsettled.

‘So what would you be in my absence, Samuel?’ Ash asked. ‘Would you be Archmage, or perhaps you have designs on being Emperor, too? King of the world, perhaps?’

Samuel ignored the remark. ‘I will kill you, Ash, as you killed my beloved and my family.’

Ash laughed so long and loud that Samuel clenched his fists with rage. ‘Oh, you poor fool! You’re telling me that you have been after me all along because one of my men killed your woman? And what’s this about your family? I’m sorry-did I happen to kill them, too? Well, that’s a shame, but I really have no idea what you are talking about. I kill many people every day, my naive young friend, and I certainly have no way of remembering one corpse from another. I can’t believe you have been stumbling along all this time trying to kill me, when I really had no idea you even existed. This really is quite amusing.’

Samuel was incensed by Ash’s demeanour. He took a step forward and readied to throw a spell at the man that would tear him to pieces.

‘Oh, I’d stop there, if I were you,’ Ash called out. ‘If Dividian’s spell is not finished properly, we could be in for quite a bad time. You see, all the power in here has to go somewhere, and if it isn’t used to awaken the Argum Stone it will blow this tower to dust. Don’t even think about using any of your magic. One wrong spell could destabilise the whole process.’

At that, Samuel stopped and eyed the hideous knot of power above them. Ash was probably right.

‘You see, it took me a long time to get where I am now, Samuel. I have lied, manipulated, stolen, tortured, kidnapped and killed. I have done every kind of foul, heinous and dishonourable act to claw my way to this point. It’s amazing what you can achieve with a little perseverance. With these two relics in my hands, I will be the new Emperor and ruler of the known world.’

At that, Dividian opened one beady eye towards Ash.

‘Keep going, Dividian, you damned fool!’ Ash told him. ‘Stop now and there’ll be hell to pay!’

Dividian scowled but closed his eye and continued on, sweat pouring from his forehead in rivers.

‘Why?’ Samuel called out above the raging din. ‘Why did you kill them? What did they ever do to you?’

‘What?’ Ash asked with disbelief. ‘Are you still going on about your pathetic family? I don’t know, boy! I don’t even know whom they were! Asking me to remember a few names or faces is like asking me to remember which my favourite pebble on the beach is. I began my life so poor and miserable that I began killing people almost as soon as I could hold a knife. When I found out how easily fooled most magicians were, I could not resist joining the Order. It was like finding the fattest, wealthiest, most stupid merchant in the world and having him ask me to mind the key to his front door for him.’

‘How could you bring the Order so low?’ Samuel asked him. ‘How could a magician be so foul?’

Ash laughed with outright mirth. ‘You mean you really don’t know?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Oh, my boy, you prove yourself more incompetent by the moment. I’m no magician! I couldn’t cast a spell in a hundred years! That is why I forged an alliance with the Circle of Eyes. They covered me with spells so I would pass as one of you and, in return, I would do them various favours and pass them information. The fool Lord Jarrod thought he was using me all along, but in the end I killed him, too. He wanted the Argum Stone for himself and arranged to have me return it to him but, in doing, so he gave me a path straight to everything I ever wanted. What a grand imbecile he was! And Rimus was no better. How can I bring something lower when it is already so pathetic?’

Samuel laughed in disbelief at himself for being so foolish. ‘You don’t have any magic?’

‘Of course not! It’s true, I do have some skill in manipulating the dense and foolish of this world, but magic? No. I dallied a little in black magic, but I found its aftertaste rather bitter. It’s much safer to let others meddle with such dark things. Just look at Dividian here. He seems to enjoy it immensely. I enjoy killing people because I think of all the riches that will result, but Dividian here is truly sick. He enjoys cutting and torturing people in ways that make my stomach turn. He prepared all my vials for me and taught me how to use them. Without him, I would have been killed long ago, so I guess I owe him my many thanks. However, with this,’ he gestured to the great stone tablet shaking beside him, ‘comes true power, for the power of the Argum Stone is truly a wonder. With it, I will be able to wield magic like a true-born magician. I will wield the Staff of Elders and be utterly unstoppable. I will rule the Empire and no one will be able to lift a finger to stop me.’

‘Ash!’ Dividian called out from beside the Argum Stone. ‘You’ll pay for this! Cang will have your head!’ He had ceased his chanting on hearing Ash’s tirade and the room started shaking as all the great weaves of magic began to fall out of alignment.

‘By the gods, Dividian!’ Ash cursed. ‘You can’t stop now! We’ll all be killed, damn you!’

‘Cang will kill you for this, Ash!’ Dividian declared, but he firmed his jaw and continued with the spell. The violent shaking became subdued as the Great Spell of Awakening continued.

Ash laughed again. ‘You see, Samuel? This is true power. Look at Dividian here. Right now, he has realised the truth about me and wants to kill me with all his will, but he cannot. His choices are defined by the situation I have created. Here he is, working the Staff of Elders on my behalf and for my benefit, even as he learns I have betrayed him. Even the great Circle of Eyes is but putty in my hands. Like all magicians, they are conceited and egotistical. They, the Order and even you, young Samuel, have seriously underestimated me. A common man has brought down the Order and the entire Turian Empire!’

There was a sickening slowing in the cycle of the pattern, making Samuel’s stomach churn. Then, a deep growling boom sounded and the tower lurched to one side, causing Samuel to scramble for balance. There was another gut-wrenching shudder and then Samuel’s head cleared. The Great Spell had finished and the enormous pool of energy in the room was gone, instantaneously swallowed with a great gulp into the ancient relic. Samuel knew what had happened, even without Ash’s maniacal laughter to tell him, for Dividian had succeeded. He had finished the spell and awoken the power within the Argum Stone. There was a sharp hiss as the enormous bulk of the ancient relic then shivered and vanished. For a moment, held in mid-air, something tiny could be seen in its place, glinting in the light, before it fell to the floor with a soft clink.

Dividian opened his eyes wide and staggered back, falling heavily to the floor and dropping the Staff of Elders from his hands. He looked thin and drained and struggled to move.

‘It’s done!’ Ash called out jubilantly.

‘Wait!’ Dividian cried. ‘The magic is spent but I must seal the spell for the transformation to be complete! If not, the relic will revert to its original form in a matter of days.’

‘Then do it, you fool!’ Ash commanded.

Dividian gathered the last of his strength and began to call out in the most ancient of tongues, the lost language of the people who had created all the wondrous relics ages before, a language only known as the Ancient Lick. ‘Karem abatu; mendar arrellum; daedus mantati hellevar; amun morbata!’

With each phrase, the tiny object on the floor blazed and squealed with white heat, seeming to recognise the words. At the completion of the utterance, it hissed cool again.

‘Is that it? Is it done?’ Ash asked impatiently.

‘It’s done,’ Dividian groaned, looking set to keel over.

‘Then it’s mine!’ Ash declared with delight.

‘Samuel!’ Dividian croaked. ‘Kill him! Kill him now, you young fool…before it’s too late.’

‘Hah!’ Ash spat out and kicked the Argum Stone’s wooden frame crashing to the floor, where it snapped in two under its own weight. ‘It’s already too late.’ Then, he bent over and plucked up the tiny, gleaming object from the floor. He gloated at it as he held it between his thumb and index finger, and rolled it around to glint in the light. It was a small, glimmering ring.

‘That’s it!’ thought Samuel. At last, he knew the meaning of the word’s Ash had spoken in Tindal. Amun-morbayah. They were simply instructions on how to awaken and use the relic, infused with the power of the Ancient Lick. ‘It’s a ring!’ he gasped aloud.

‘Why so it is,’ Ash responded, glancing up at Samuel with an amused smile. He popped the thing onto the ring finger of his right hand without so much as a pause and began rolling his hand around, letting the Argum Stone catch the light on its surface. ‘It’s not so bad at all,’ he mused to himself.

Samuel took half a step forward, but stopped in his stride, for Ash’s form had begun to pulse with blinding energy as magic began to course into him from the ancient relic. Samuel staggered back, shielding his eyes from the light as magic filled the man. Through slitted fingers, Samuel could see Ash bend over again and pick up the Staff of Elders.

‘Now let’s see what all the fuss is about,’ Ash mused.

‘Damn you, Ash,’ Dividian groaned, still splayed out on the floor. ‘The Circle will not forgive you for this. You will die the most horrible of deaths!’

‘So will you,’ Ash said and tipped the head of the Elder Staff at Dividian. A fury of magic sprang out and turned the old man to thrashing flames. ‘Wonderful!’ Ash declared, but Dividian continued to roll around as he burned, wailing and shrieking hideously. ‘Damned Magician! You can’t even die properly!’ he said and sent more beams of fire out over the old man until Dividian was only a flaming pile of matted bones.

The presence of the Great Spell forming in the room had kept Samuel’s mind reeling, but now, with the spell spent, Samuel could begin gathering power of his own. As Ash had his attention set on Dividian, Samuel had cast a spell of Lifting and began readying one of the huge bookshelves into position over Ash’s head. He only hoped the man was too busy to notice.

‘Perhaps this will take some getting used to,’ Ash spoke to himself, turning the Staff of Elders over in his hands as he scrutinised it. He then looked to Samuel with satisfaction on his face. He tipped the Elder Staff forward and power burst forth. Samuel leapt aside as the energy struck the wall with a piercing shriek, releasing his Lifting spell as he did. The hovering shelf dropped down and smashed Ash to the floor, spilling books all over. A protruding twisted arm was all that could be seen of Ash, still gripping the Staff of Elders tightly in its hand.

As Samuel dusted himself off, the shelf fell aside and Ash clambered to his groggy feet. Samuel gritted his teeth as Ash checked himself over. The man’s face was brimming with jubilance as he realised he was still alive.

Ash laughed. ‘How magnificent! The power of the Staff protects me, Samuel. And I have not even begun to draw on all power it contains. I was foolish to underestimate you again, but I cannot go on until you are dead-I know that now. I can sense all kinds of incredible things and I feel now that it was our destiny to meet here, but I cannot have you distracting me any further.’

‘Such magic will destroy you, Ash!’ Samuel called out. ‘It takes a lifetime of experience to wield such power. Such a burden will be the end of you.’

Ash laughed aloud. ‘We shall see!’

A deadly beam of heat struck out again and this time it struck true, piercing Samuel through the middle, blackening the stone wall behind him. Ash gave a triumphant yell, until he realised that Samuel was still standing unharmed. The young magician was actually grinning in defiance of Ash’s attack.

Another Samuel stepped from the curtains. Ash again raised his staff and blasted this second Samuel. He, too, remained untouched by the fire, even as the curtains behind became flames.

‘Damn you!’ Ash roared. ‘Such insolence!’

With that, Ash raised the Staff of Elders and closed his eyes in concentration. Only a magician should have been able to call such ancient magic, but Samuel could sense the Argum Stone pulsing into life, acting as a conduit between Ash and the Staff of Elders, channelling power into the man-not even a magician-against all known laws of magic. The air began moving within the room and loose pages on the floor slowly rolled over and began to brown and smoulder before the spell had even begun. Ash brought the Staff down to strike the floor and opened his eyes once again, igniting his spell with wild fury. A storm of sparks burst into being and swept around the chamber, scorching everything they touched. The room filled with a hurricane of intense flames and swirling smoke, howling madly with a deafening noise. As quickly as the spell had appeared, so too it faded. Everything not made of stone had vanished-even the walls were scored and covered with blackened marks. All the shelves and ancient books that had lined the chamber had been turned to glowing embers and blackened residue, smouldering and settling in the corners of the room. Even Dividian’s charred remains had been swept away and obliterated. There was nothing left standing except for Ash. In moments, everything had been utterly destroyed.

Samuel lay panting, gripping the outside wall of the tower with all his resolve. Smoke billowed in plumes out the window through which he had just barely managed to escape. His robes were burnt and singed at the edges. He could hear Ash laughing inside and could feel the energy, ever mounting, as Ash opened himself to more and more power from within the Staff of Elders. Samuel’s heart was thumping in his chest in steady rhythm to the pulsing, grinding power that was emanating from inside. It was too much power for any human to wield so quickly. Soon Ash would not be able to contain all the magic he was calling and something very dire would happen. At the very least, the man would be incinerated by wild mage-fire as it burst from within him. Hopefully, that would happen before too much damage was done.

Ash’s laughter slowed and stopped and then his voice carried clearly out the window. ‘For a moment, I actually thought I had killed you, Samuel, but now I feel very glad that you are still alive. I wish you could feel what it is like to have this power. I have truly become more than I could ever have dreamed, and with every passing moment-’ His voice was changing. It seemed to be echoing from the air all around. ‘-I become even more.’

Samuel cried out as a shrill ringing filled his head. It was an unbearable pain, as if his mind was skewered with pins. It finished as abruptly as it had struck and, as he recovered his senses, Samuel had a strange feeling of motion and he could hear the wind whistling in his ears. He opened his eyes to see the ground flying up at him. His spell had broken and he was falling like a stone towards his death. It took a moment for him to recast his wall-walking spell and he desperately pushed his hand out to touch the tower wall. The spell formed true on contact with the stone and Samuel’s descent began to slow, with his hand brushing the smooth stones until eventually, and with a sigh of relief, he finally came to a halt. He hugged the tower with all his will while his heart slowed its feverish pace. In a few fleeting seconds, Samuel had dropped nearly half the height of the tower.

The sun was setting now, and the sky to the east was in twilight, leaving only the west still hung with a hint of daylight. Looking up, Samual saw an unnatural silver light beaming out from Ash’s window and a vast crowd had amassed in the palace grounds far below. People were filling every available open space, staring up at Samuel and pointing at the awesome display of light from Ash’s window. This was more than just magic. Samuel could feel something terrible happening up in that room.

Samuel took one last determined breath and started back up the tower wall, spider-like, and an audible gasp rose from the people below. He still had no idea of what to do or how to defeat Ash. All he knew was that he had to stop the man. If he could even delay him for long enough, perhaps the others would finally arrive to help; or perhaps Ash would make some crucial mistake. Perhaps his flesh would finally fail under the strain of all his newfound power. Perhaps with the Lions, Lomar and Master Glim together they had a chance of stopping the man. He only hoped the others were somehow on their way to help.

Laughter was still emanating from Ash’s chamber. The man was giggling like a child now. He had opened himself entirely to the Staff and magic was gathering into him at a terrible rate. The pattern itself seemed to be shuddering in trepidation.

‘Ash!’ Samuel cried into the window. ‘You have all that you wanted and yet still you have not destroyed me! What good is all your power if you can’t even kill one insignificant magician?’

The smoke within the room had thinned enough so that Samuel could peer in and he saw Ash’s face slowly turn towards him. Ash raised a charred sleeve and wiped the dribble from his lips. He opened his mouth and a dark, coiling vapour ran out and down his chest. It was blood, boiled and fused with magic so that his flesh could no longer contain it. Samuel was horrified.

‘Ah,’ Ash gasped slowly. ‘Ah, the power. I can feel it in every part of me.’ He held his hand up before his face and turned it over, as if scrutinising it in wonder. ‘I am but a shell of flesh.’ The man’s very words echoed with magic. Samuel could feel it rattling against his skin like splashes of rain.

A spell formed and Samuel rolled aside as the window exploded out, leaving a gaping hole. Chunks of dust and smouldering rocks dropped far below into the grounds.

Ash slid out and hovered beside the tower. ‘Now I am coming for you, Samuel. Run.’ he whispered. His voice was hollow and echoing, his lips were parted, yet unmoving.

Samuel realised he was in desperate trouble and scampered away from Ash and around the tower, still maintaining the same height. He lay panting with his back against the hard stones of the wall, looking left and right for any sign of the abomination that had been Ash.

Curiously, a tight white beam of light appeared out of Samuel’s middle. It shone out far to the hills like some form of signal and, when it had ceased, Samuel found a neat smoking hole at the centre of his robes. The pain followed and Samuel screamed out loud. His body had been pierced right through by an intense light, so hot that it had cooked a path from his back out through his chest. The pain was unspeakable, causing him to shriek wildly until he could throw enough spells into himself to dull all feeling. As a result, his vision began to blur and darken at the edges and his head felt thick as tar. Inside him, flesh and organs had been baked and crisped.

Even his fingers and toes had gone numb and Samuel quickly sucked on the fingers of one hand in desperate effort to revive them. He could sense the incredible amount of damage that had been done inside him and realised it was only pure luck that none of his vital organs had burst altogether.

A tingle in his spine lit Samuel’s senses and brought him back to alertness. He rolled aside as another beam silently pierced the tower directly beside his head and flashed out into the distance. Smoke seeped out from the two tiny holes that now marked the tower stones. Not wasting any time, Samuel started straight upwards.

The land all around was now cast in shades of grey and the sun was just a glimmering sliver of gold on the horizon. Flecks of silver covered the shimmering ocean, gathering towards a single gleaming point far away but, as the tiny crack of the sun melted and vanished away, the sea, too, became grey and quiet, leaving only the distant clouds with any colour, saturated in pinks and oranges. Directly above, the sky was darkening as storm clouds slowly gathered, and a soft groan rumbled out from amongst them as lightning flickered in their depths.

Samuel continued moving up the sheer, stone wall with labouring breaths. A flurry of silent beams sliced through the tower behind him and always the laughter continued, seeming to issue from the very air itself.

Samuel reached his goal and leapt over onto the top of the tower, waiting in the eerie silence of dusk while he gained his breath. The wind made a soft whisper and the other palace towers were dark shards in the twilight. The city was grey below, but tiny dots of light were quickly appearing everywhere as people lit the lanterns in their homes. The ocean, spread out vast beside the city, was tranquil, now barely seeming to move at all. Various city sounds seemed to carry up to him on the wind and, occasionally, a distant breaker could be heard striking onto the shoals with a whump and a hiss. At any other time, the panorama would have been marvellous to behold.

A whimpering sound made Samuel turn around and he found Lullander, the magician, splayed out on the tower roof, bawling and whimpering like a child. On spying Samuel, the man leapt to his feet and ran screaming and blubbering straight off the side of the tower, leaping as if to his salvation. His howling faded quickly as he plummeted away.

The wind blew up and the sound of rippling cloth caused Samuel to turn back as Ash rose slowly beside the tower heights, held up by the air itself. Samuel stepped away. He could no longer see the aura around the man as he had dulled his senses so much, but he could still feel the tremendous power threatening to be unleashed within. For an instant, Samuel wished he could get a glance at the weaves around Ash-even for just a moment. He could learn so much just by looking at the spells that Ash had brought into existence through sheer force, but he could not risk it in his current state.

A sickening grin was painted on Ash’s mask-like face. He observed Samuel, but his eye sockets were empty, gaping holes and his skin was taut and dried like bark. The Staff of Elders was clutched so tightly in his left hand that the tendons in his wrist were popping out with strain. The Argum Stone glinted, shimmering on his finger and still feeding magic into the corpse of a man. Somehow, Ash still lived, even as the mage-fire continued to eat through his body. He no longer relied on his own mortality. Such concentrated power was sustaining him beyond all normal reason.

Samuel needed far more power than he had ever summoned before, even if he was just to escape with his life. He sought within himself for the calm he needed and fought to slow his desperate, shallow breaths. There was nowhere left to run. Only his magic could save him, if only he could gather enough of it in time.

‘I see now what the universe is about,’ Ash whispered without motion-his words poured black vapour, his skin was bone white. ‘I no longer care for the trinkets and coins of this world. Even my eyes and flesh are only keepsakes that I willingly discard. What is being an emperor when I can be a god! I can feel the energy, the life, within everything, within you. I want it all,’ he hissed.

Ash lifted his hand and five arcs of raw energy flashed out from his fingertips, striking at Samuel like vipers. Samuel’s legs kicked out from underneath him, sending him sprawling onto his face. He thrashed and convulsed, his cheeks and teeth striking the stones as he flailed about uncontrollably. He could feel the life draining from him, being stripped from his marrow.

Ash stopped abruptly and a wash of pain flooded back into Samuel. He screamed into the floor and choked on the fluid that spilled up into his mouth, coughing it up in volumes, retching pure blood. He rolled over with wide eyes-his muscles felt knotted and torn-to see Ash standing over him, gnarled and twisted like a salt-withered tree.

Ash’s mouth widened, bearing the yellow teeth that still hung from his blackened gums in a hideous toothy grin, but Samuel barely saw the man, for he was looking beyond him, up to the darkening sky. Things were moving high above-enormous leviathans of power colliding and interweaving. A jagged patchwork of light silently zigzagged overhead, leaving tracts of fading scars across the heavens. More lightning flashed in the north and then the south and the rumbling rolled in towards them. Angry clouds gathered above and churned as if in a restless dream.

The pain then stopped and Samuel took a great gulping breath, seeming to taste air for the first time in his life.

‘I can stop the pain for you, Samuel,’ Ash hissed, stooping over him.

Samuel opened his mind and drew magic, but before he could use it, it had vanished again, sucked out by the insatiable creature above him.

‘How sweet is your soul,’ croaked Ash. ‘The more you fight me, the sweeter it tastes. Please don’t give up just yet. Your struggling gives me so much pleasure. There is so much of you to eat-more than you will ever know.’ Ash bent down further and cradled Samuel’s head in his palm. He pressed his grinning face and eyeless sockets against Samuel’s cheek and the stench of boiled meat was overpowering. A distant boom sounded in the sky and was echoed by more flashes of light and thunderous clashes just above.

An unholy suffering filled Samuel as Ash began his work once more. All was darkness and pain as Samuel twitched in Ash’s thirsty grasp. His bones felt skewered with pins, as if his very veins were being pulled out through his skin. Yet, somehow, Samuel’s mind disregarded the pain and the agony that pierced his tortured body, and locked onto a sudden obvious fact.

Amun morbata? The words had been misspoken.

Dividian had summoned the power to transform and awaken the Argum Stone, and he had spoken the ancient phrases required to transform the artefact into its new state, and yet, after all that tremendous effort, it seemed incredible that he could make a simple error in the final words. Unless, having realised Ash had betrayed him, had Dividian knowingly subverted the ritual? Was it a subtle message meant for Samuel? Whatever the reason, the spell was incomplete and the Argum Stone was vulnerable. Given time, it would revert back to its dormant form, but that could be hours or days or weeks away. Ash could do untold damage in that time.

If he was to survive, if he was to save the city and all within it from utter destruction, Samuel needed to get the thing away from Ash here and now-and he had only scant moments to do it.

Then, with his mind desperately searching for answers, the thunder sounded once more and Samuel knew what to do.

Ancient words came dancing onto his tongue, appearing almost from nowhere. ‘Karem abatu-’ he began, forcing them through his broken quivering lips. ‘Mendar arrellum; daedus mantati hellevar…’

‘What’s that?’ Ash asked, tilting his head to one side like a curious dog. ‘What are you whispering about, boy?’

‘Amun…morbayah,’ he whispered and, abruptly, the pain ceased once again.

Ash screamed and reeled back, dropping Samuel’s head thudding to the stones. He stood to his full height, screeching in pain as the Argum Stone flashed white-hot upon his finger. He held his claw-like hand before his face in sheer disbelief and howled at it like a raging banshee. Finally, his finger cracked off, withered and baked all the way through, and crumbled to dust. The Argum Stone bounced to the ground at Ash’s feet while Ash was left trembling and wailing, cleft from his source of power.

Waves of harmonious energy sang out from the powerful relic, making a resonant song in Samuel’s ears. With the sealing-phrase spoken, the Argum Stone transformation was now complete.

Free of Ash’s grip, Magic surged back into Samuel like a wave heaving up and pounding itself down upon the shore. He threw up one hand as if clutching at the very ether and he was instantly filled with raw, pulsing power. His skin and bones and tissue and mind were brimming with magic, replacing the terrible pain that had wracked him only moments before. His body was already spent but, while he could still draw a breath, his magic could sustain him. He and Ash were vastly different. He would never have let himself be overcome by such deranged power.

He stood up without effort-as if carried by strings-with magic filling his ears like a thousand frantic drums all beating as one. He revelled in the power and the world seemed new and clear around him. Somehow, driven by desperation and sheer desire, Samuel had found his strength. It had come to him like a sudden revelation, but this time he was not overcome by it or light-headed or filled with rage. His undivided attention was set on destroying Ash, and all his magical fury lay readied for that task, trembling to be released.

Above, the sky bellowed and flashed. Thunder boomed and crackled in the heights, slapping at the tower with each release and making it shudder. A titanic storm had gathered, trying to balance the immense volumes of power being summoned and spent below. The heavens were voicing their rage.

The wind struck up and began howling like a madman, dragging at Samuel’s tattered clothes. Irshank’s robe had all but been burnt and torn from him. If not for his magic, Samuel would have been tossed from the tower like a straw doll.

Samuel looked to Ash, who was frantically searching the stones with one ruined hand, the Staff of Elders still clutched tightly in the other. His desperate fingers came upon the Argum Stone and the gasp of joy was audible, even above the storm, as he rejoined the great sea of power it offered him. His head rose slowly and he stood back upright like a ghoulish scarecrow. A wicked grin formed below his empty sockets.

They both stood readied and positioned, poised atop the highest tower of Cintar. Samuel held as much magic as he had ever felt before-more than when he had killed the dark-skinned bandits, more than when he had felled Tabbet the magician, even more than when he had slaughtered Captain Garret and his men. He was not fuelled with rage as then, but this was even better. Just as Grand Master Anthem had told him, he was in full control of his power. He could feel more magic within him than he had ever thought was possible, but he knew it would still not be enough to match the-thing-that-had-once-been-Ash. A man could not possibly defeat such a god, but he had to try.

An ocean of power blossomed and filled the air around Ash as he summoned his killing stroke from the Staff of Elders. It took the form of a monstrous being rising up behind him. Samuel’s eyes opened wide at the sight, for it was awesome and vast. So much magic loomed in that space that the air began to smell burnt and acrid in his nose. He had no hope of withstanding such power, but still he stood defiantly, depending on his one slender chance.

‘Come on, Ash!’ Samuel called out. ‘What hope do you have if you cannot even defeat a single pathetic magician such as me? The world is waiting for you to consume it. Kill me if you dare!’

More and more power began manifesting from the ether, drawn by the will of Ash to join the raging torrent around him. The Elder Staff howled out in torment from within his grasp while the ether itself seemed to growl in anger as Ash tested its limits. Finally, he finished his gathering and there was a long and silent pause as Ash turned directly to Samuel with a maniacal, eyeless grin. The man had gathered more power around himself than Samuel would ever have thought possible.

It was all Samuel could hope for. He threw his hands up and called his own magic blazing forth. Ash began to cackle at the pitiful amount of energy that Samuel had brought into being, for it paled in comparison to what he had summoned. The young magician did not have a fraction of the power he needed to defend himself against Ash, let alone defeat him, but Samuel did not intend on attacking Ash at all.

The storm raged above, now covering the sky from horizon to horizon. It was a sea of raw power, caught up overhead, and it craved to be unleashed. Samuel’s last desperate surges of magic were not directed at Ash, but directly up into the heart of the raging skies. The storm had reached its threshold, filled with incredible, unspeakable power in reflection of all the energy gathered below, and Samuel gave it all the magic he had to offer-and he gave it a path of release.

Ash’s gaze followed Samuel’s gesture towards the clouds and his rattling laughter stopped abruptly.

The air sighed, then a silver bolt blazed forth and speared Ash to the tower. A clap of thunder, violent beyond belief, fell behind it and struck them like the end of the world. It shook the earth and made the tower sway and groan as if to fall. Samuel dropped to his hands and knees and hung on with all his might lest he be thrown from the tower altogether. Stones shattered and burst away from its edges, raining down below. Every man, woman and child in the city would have dived under their tables or run screaming from the streets. The air was full of shrieks and moans and deafening crashes-perhaps from Ash, or perhaps from the tower or the storm itself. When it was done, the sky was silent and the thunder faded to distant echoes.

The stones around Ash smoked and his remaining scraps of clothing had burst into flames. He opened his mouth to make some kind of utterance and a second bolt fell, just before a boom that felt like a hammer blow to the side of Samuel’s head. A brilliant, glowing streak scarred his dazzled eyes before he could look away.

The storm then spoke one final time but, this time, it launched a flurry of lightning rods that streamed from the clouds and set Ash dancing and fitting like a puppet, threading him to the sky with incandescent copper lacing. The noise was deafening-a continuous shrieking and banging that had Samuel lying flat and covering his ears for all he was worth. He could feel his skin tightening and the hairs on his arms smouldered, but he dared not cast any spell to protect himself lest he also attracted the sky’s wrath.

When the lightning had finally abated, only the wind and the soft crackling of Ash’s skin then remained to be heard.

Ash was still breathing; a wet and laboured sound that sounded close to death, and he was still on his feet. He rocked forwards and back, ready to fall, and Samuel could not believe there was any kind of life still in him at all, whatever form it took. The man had truly become some kind of monster.

Then, Ash’s right hand slowly opened and the Argum Stone dropped out, falling towards the scarred and blackened stones.

At this, Samuel found some uncanny reserve of energy. He gained his feet and dived, catching the ring before it could bounce to the floor. Climbing back onto his legs, he could feel the relic nestled firmly in his clenched palm, safely away from Ash.

Ash took an unsteady step, his mouth agape in frozen pain. ‘What was it that made you so powerful, Samuel?’ he then asked, pinning Samuel with his steaming, eyeless sockets. His voice was like tearing parchment. ‘Even with all the magic of the Ancients at my beckoning, you still managed to defy me. What filled you with such power, boy? What force made you into this unspeakable creature that has defeated me?’

‘You did,’ Samuel said, feeling the icy ring tight within his fist. ‘Each time you tried to destroy me, you set me an obstacle to climb, a goal to reach, a new strength to find. Each time you tried to kill me, I was born anew. Each time you destroyed something I loved, a seed of vengeance grew in its place. If it weren’t for you, I would still be picking apples in my father’s orchard. You made me everything I am, Ash, and I will utterly destroy you for what you have done, as I have so vowed.’

Ash raised the Staff of Elders once more with trembling arms and Samuel could feel him reaching for the power within it. Incredibly, a trickle of magic began to seep out of the ancient wood and into Ash. The magic of the Ancients had changed Ash altogether. His body had all but been destroyed. It was now merely a smouldering carcass, a vehicle for carrying his maddened soul and somehow he had ceased being human altogether. The fury of the storm had stunned him, but it had not killed him. Now he had found some way of reaching into the Staff of Elders directly. The magic began coming faster, leaping in ever-growing bursts into him. It was not nearly as much power as before, but it was growing greater at an alarming rate. Ash began laughing-a sickening and loathsome sound that could never emit from something human.

‘I have learnt such things as you would scarcely believe, Magician,’ the creature facing Samuel growled. ‘I have seen the secrets of this world and I will not be cast aside so easily.’

Samuel was spent. The storm was spent. There was only one more thing he could do.

There, clutched tightly in his palm, Samuel held the key to unimaginable power. He opened his hand and looked upon it, seeing the flickering light of Ash’s flaming cloak reflected on its silvery surface. He picked it up and slowly turned his right hand over, spreading his quivering fingers as wide as he could. His hands were shaking and he had to bite at his lip in concentration, but with the greatest of care, he managed to thread an outstretched finger into its centre and he felt its coolness sliding against his skin. He pushed the glimmering ring firmly up to his last knuckle and then he opened himself to whatever lay waiting there within.

A lone figure found himself hanging high in the air, far above a vast stormy ocean of magic. Almost at once, he began plummeting down. Faster and faster the person fell, rushing towards the roaring waters, accelerating at an incredible rate and without limit. He smashed into the freezing seas and pierced deep beneath the tumultuous surface, crushed on all sides by the cold and heaving power. The strength of the magic all around him squeezed the air from his lungs and pushed the blood from his palpitating heart-making his thoughts formless and nonsensical.

He paled before the incredible strength the relic kept pushing into him and he struggled to keep it all from washing over him and smothering him, as it had done with Ash. Its weight was incredible and it pushed in at him from every side, trying to force its way inside him, trying to invade every particle of his existence.

Then, something wonderful happened-an epiphany of sorts-as if some divine presence, in one sweeping gesture of its arms, had parted all the pain and anguish and confusion that now surrounded him and everything he had ever sensed or learned or experienced then coalesced into an atomic mote of clarity, and from this single fleeting point of omniscience, sprang a simple train of thought:

Magic is a strange and wonderful thing. When pressed to describe or define magic, most Masters have a different opinion. Master Sanctus had expressed it as simply a form of energy, while Master Glim called it ‘the manifestation of the will’. Others believed it was the essence of our spirit and some even said it was a gift of the gods. Of all the opinions he had heard, Samuel now recalled what his friend Lomar had once told him and, strangely, he could recollect the man’s words precisely, as if reliving that very moment in time. He could almost feel the great branches of the oak tree from the School of Magic reaching up above them, lending them both its shade.

This is what he said: ‘Magic is a rare and beautiful talent that some of us are lucky enough to possess. Try not to think of magic as something that is, but rather as something that can be achieved. On any fine morning, a person may choose to do some chores, or cut some wood, or write a poem, or paint a picture. They can even choose to sit and do nothing. Such is magic. It is not something you can see and say “Look! There is some magic!” but rather something you can experience and say “Behold! What a wonderful thing it is that magic has done!”’

It was pointless attempting to resist such rampant power as Samuel found in the ring. To do so would have corrupted him and blasted his mind and body. Instead, he relaxed and let the force all around fall in upon him. He welcomed it and joined it, letting it push him all about with its currents, washing over him and within him at the same time. He became one with that ocean of power, a sea of no bounds or dimension, a sea that filled everywhere and everything, until there was no sea and there was no him, there was only nothing.

Samuel opened his eyes, finding himself still standing upon the stormy tower top, with Ash still standing opposite him, the Staff of Elders poised in his hand. The entire experience within the magical folds of the ring seemed to have taken forever but, in reality, barely a heartbeat had passed. Indeed, if it had taken any longer at all Samuel may have been too late, for it was at that very moment that Ash struck out, sending a white-hot stream of power erupting from his staff.

What happened next seemed to occur so slowly, as if the time-thickening properties from within the Argum Stone had followed out after Samuel and enshrouded him. Each instant in time was enough for him to see every minute detail in every tiny thing around him.

Sparks and mage-fire flickered from all over Ash’s body, bursting from his skin, from the black holes of his eyes and from his wretched gaping mouth, as the beam slowly, slowly burned its way towards Samuel.

The Elder Staff was certainly powerful, but Ash was no magician. He was a being-no longer even a man-attempting to guide powers he could not begin to understand, while Samuel was now a perfect nexus of magic.

Magic erupted from Samuel’s outstretched hand and met Ash’s beam, throwing out squealing sparks in all directions. Ash staggered back, but Samuel stood calmly as their powers met; he now clearly understood the nature of magic-for it filled his every pore-and he knew that Ash had lost. The energy around the man was still vast and intense by normal standards, but a black greasy rim now encased it, like a rot that signalled his inevitable demise.

‘Ash,’ Samuel said. ‘You wanted to be a god, but you are only a child playing with grown-up’s things. At another time, I would tell you of all your follies, but time is short and I am beyond tired. You have done many foul things to me and to countless others, so it is time you received due punishment for all that you have done. Damn you, Ash. Damn you for bringing me to this place.’

Samuel pushed his power along the path of Ash’s beam, filling its intense, pure white with twisting streaks of gold and blue and red. Ash held his staff desperately with both hands, with terror building on his ruined face. The streaks carried up the beam until they met the Staff in Ash’s shaking grip and there was a blinding flash of magic being un-made. The Staff of Elders, ancient icon of the Order of Magicians, screeched and turned to dust and spilled out through Ash’s clutching fingers. Indescribable horror covered his face and he turned to run on wooden legs. His hands were clutched over his face and he was screaming and sobbing as he blindly ran away. Without a source of magic to sustain him, there was nothing to hold Ash’s desiccated form together. An awful howl emanated from his throat as he continued running out over the tower’s edge and toppled down into space. Dust and glowing embers trailed behind him as he tumbled towards the waiting earth below.

Samuel looked down after Ash and readied a spell to send after the man-a final blow to finish him should some miracle happen to save him but, as Ash fell, his howls became hollow and empty, fading to nothing as his body disintegrated into ashes and was blown away by the wind. At last, there was nothing left to strike the earth but a few scraps of fluttering, black cloth.

Samuel stepped back from the tower’s shattered edge. He could feel the final remnants of energy balancing out around him as the flows and weaves in the air all around settled back into near equilibrium. He looked up, for the first time feeling the cold night air, and could see the clouds already thinning above him, with tiny bolts still flashing reluctantly in their depths. The wind had dropped to a soft breeze, carrying the salty scent of the Euclidean Sea.

He looked at the small, silver ring on his finger, smooth and gleaming. With the Staff of Elders destroyed, this was now the only great relic in the world. He could feel the magic within it almost humming, waiting to be released. He had certainly not expected the Staff to be destroyed, but it seemed the power of the Argum Stone had greatly overwhelmed it. Dragging the ring from his finger and tucking it into a smouldering pocket, Samuel staggered to the large, heavy trapdoor on the tower roof, raised it and fell through.