The Young Magician

CHAPTER TEN

It seemed their adventure had been something of a success, for the streets of Cintar had been filled with soldiers and magicians alike since their escape from the palace. Every effort was being made to recover the stolen books and find the rogue magicians, with soldiers banging on doors and searching buildings indiscriminately. Fortunately, there were not enough magicians in the city to accompany every squad and the escapees simply hid their door from view whenever soldiers came trudging up their stairs.

‘It looks as though our efforts have caused rather a stir,’ Lomar noted. ‘The Emperor has mobilised the entire city garrison and the Archmage has everyone with two good legs out in the streets. It can only mean we managed to take something they need.’

‘Or else they just want us to think that,’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘That way we won’t get up to any more mischief.’

‘Ah…it’s possible,’ Lomar confessed, ‘but I wouldn’t give them so much credit. Turians are not known for subtlety, after all. This show of force really suggests desperation.’

‘Do you think Master Glim will be able to contact us?’ Eric asked of the tall magician.

Lomar shook his head. ‘I think it’s too dangerous for the time being. I’m quite sure he escaped without being seen, so he’ll be waiting in the School of Magic, but they’ll be watching it now more closely than ever. It may take him some time to find a way to reach us.’

A young boy in the room upstairs-Eezel was his name-was their only source of food for the time being. He happily brought them whatever they requested from the market in exchange for a few coins. He seemed ignorant as to who they were and, just to be sure, Samuel gleaned his thoughts occasionally to check for any malevolent intentions. Eezel, however, had his mind focussed only on making some money to buy himself a new football. If not for him, the four magicians would have run out of food and drink long before.

Samuel’s wounds healed quickly with the aid of spells, but still, if he moved too quickly or in the wrong way, the pain was terrible and his flesh felt like it had been torn anew. He lay in his bed, struggling to read, turning pages and scribbling down notes with his good arm as well he could. When he felt stronger, he began to sit up and, after that, he kept his arm strung at his chest with a scrap of cloth.

For many days, Samuel, Lomar and the Erics scoured through the volumes of text that they had stolen, searching for any mention of the Argum Stone or the black magic that Ash had been employing.

They had only managed to steal a fraction of what had been hoarded in the Argum Stone’s chamber, and almost half of that had been left in the carriage. Eric had scolded Samuel when he heard that the books in the carriage had not been destroyed, but Goodfellow was supportive of his friend’s actions. Lomar took the middle ground, admitting that, for the sake of stopping the war, the books should have been destroyed, but that Samuel probably had little opportunity to do so as he defended against his pursuers. Samuel finally admitted his fault and stated that they would have to do the best they could with what little material they had managed to save.

Each page they read seemed to present only further questions and precious few answers. Goodfellow had fixed papers along one wall and they began to jot anything they thought was important upon it. They found many references to the Ancient Lick and they jotted them all down on the wall in an attempt to find a common frame of reference. At first, they had only a handful of figures, but as they progressed, they found more and more relationship between the symbols, slowly developing some meaning between them all.

They sorted all the books into piles of apparently useful books and those that appeared nonsensical or useless. Many contained garbled poems and indecipherable gibberish and some were unrelated to anything relevant at all. Some were written in languages that none of them were capable of understanding.

Every book ever written with even a mention of the Ancients must have been piled in that chamber, even if they were filled with absolute nonsense. Some contained no more than a single word or reference. Some were so old and damaged that the text was completely illegible. Still, they forged on, sorting through the many pages.

Samuel scoured every leaf and page for reference to the Argum Stone or black magic and the only Ancient phrase he knew, ‘amun-morbayah’-the words Ash had used that had made the relic burn instantly hot. He found a sketch of what may have been the Argum Stone, amongst a page of turbid writings, but he could make no sense of them. He put the pages on the appropriate pile for future study. Of the strange phrase, he could only guess that it was some key word for the relic, but its exact meaning was a mystery. The only clue was that the words seemed similar to the Old Tongue phrase ah’munna moora bai ahmeen, which meant ‘point through the centre’ or perhaps ‘touch around the middle’. The meaning was vague, to say the least. Samuel chewed over his thoughts, scratched at the scar on his arm and kept on reading.

They learned that the Ancients often used their ability to travel instantly by the means of Journey Spells, such as Eric’s. Samuel read how one powerful man, called Marrag Lin, the Seer of Korda, defied his peers and used this ability to open a gate to another world altogether. He was immediately overcome by the evil presence that dwelt there and at once became its slave. After that, he performed many dark and evil deeds and offered his colleagues to his new masters as sacrifices. The man learned how to use the captured essence of his victims as a source of power and he caused much suffering before he was overcome. His soul had become so darkened by the black magic, that he was drawn into the very world he had opened. He defied the laws of death and himself became a devil along with his three closest disciples. The use of such magic was forever forbidden and all record of its use supposedly destroyed.

‘The Devils of Korda?’ Goodfellow asked after Samuel had explained what he had found.

‘I thought it a tale until now,’ Samuel said.

‘Most tales have their roots in truth,’ Lomar explained. ‘We have learned that Ash is treading where he should not and we should be even more careful when facing him. I would not be surprised if this tale were true and devils did once walk the land but, even if it were not, it is still not a wise idea to meddle with things unknown. Ignorance can be most dangerous. Ash should be very careful.’

‘Do you think the Archmage or the other councillors would resort to such black magic?’ Eric asked.

Lomar shook his head. ‘I hope not. Only a fool would deal with such powers. Even the Archmage would not stoop to such things. At least, I hope not. If the bearer of such power were to be overcome by evil, he would be very difficult to defeat.’

‘It took all our strength to save Master Glim from the trap in the Argum Stone’s chamber,’ Samuel explained. ‘And we had no idea it was even there. Such magic seems to be entirely different from our own and much more powerful.’

‘I’m sure we can find some way to match it. It is only powerful because we have no knowledge of it,’ Lomar said with determination, and they continued reading until their eyes ached in their heads.

In the following days, they came across various rituals and rites related to such dark power. The authors described unholy incantations and animal and human sacrifice and the use of bodily organs. Few of the authors wrote with clarity, as if gripped by the throes of madness and their works often ended abruptly. It seemed there were many groups around the land that used simple black magic to further their own causes. Covens, the author called them, and they would meet and practise their art in secret. Even common folk could use such power, for it depended on no skills of their own, and their jealousy towards magicians often brought the two groups into conflict. Even the most well-meaning practitioner of the dark arts soon became tainted, resorting to more and more vile acts until that individual was overcome altogether. Along with this were documented the many great purges of such witches by the lawmakers of the times. Those charged with finding and punishing any folk using any dark arts were traditionally called witch hunters.

After a slow week they had discovered much, but their search was still only beginning. They still had no idea of how to combat black magic with their own. In all probability, Lomar stated, that was why Ash employed it. It was totally alien to the Order and made him as powerful as several magicians with its use. Their only salvation was that black magic required a source of power different to their own magic. First, a ritual must be performed, invoking the power of the dark spirits. Then, once some power had been granted, it must be stored for future use in jars or vials with vital fluids that sustained it, exactly as Ash had done. Once these stores of power had been exhausted, then the summoning ritual must be performed again. This was both a blessing and a curse for those who wished to use black magic, for you could cast as many spells as you had vials, almost instantly and with little invocation but, once they were used, there was no way to quickly use any magic again. Only the greater witches could channel power directly from the dark realm, and generally only for very limited durations.

As they studied and learned, the four friends had no idea of what was happening outside their room, apart from what little news Eezel could pass them, but they dared not venture out while the hunt for them continued. Every moment was spent in preparation. Even a single, tiny clue could prove to be a powerful tool against Ash. However, as each day passed, they grew more desperate, for they had found nothing about the Argum Stone, how to awaken it or what powers it held stored within. This meant that Ash probably still had the information, assuming it actually existed at all. They had no choice, however, but to continue on-hour by hour, day by day.

‘A magician is coming!’ Samuel announced, feeling a sudden power beginning up the stairs.

The four of them stood and waited anxiously. They dared not summon their magic lest it gave them away altogether. After an ominous moment, there was a soft tap on the door. They each looked to the others, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. The knocking sounded again, much louder and more impatiently and then a familiar voice shouted in at them.

‘Open the door, you mangy street-whores before I blast it open!’ came the voice of Grand Master Anthem.

Eric lifted the bar and quickly opened the door. Grand Master Anthem stepped into the room without a pause and surveyed them all with discontent.

‘What a sorry welcome!’ he croaked irritably. ‘Oh, my poor stomach. I thought that cursed boat was going to roll at over any moment.’

‘Grand Master!’ Lomar said. ‘You’ve arrived at last. We’re so happy to see you!’

‘Let me sit down,’ Anthem said, pushing past them. ‘That ocean voyage has beaten me like a bully at an old dog.’

Samuel raised an eyebrow at the comment, for the old man was obviously in an unpleasant mood. His time in exile had certainly roughened him around the edges.

Anthem removed his blue travelling cloak, revealing a thin shirt and short pants. His pale, bony arms and legs poked out from his clothes, dispelling any guise of reverence he may have once possessed.

‘Looks like a beggars’ den,’ Anthem said, looking around at their room. ‘It’ll do…I guess.’ He then collapsed into a chair at the small table. ‘So what have you four been doing here all this time? I hear you have been causing all sorts of trouble and mischief, so I thought I had better come and lend you a hand before you mess everything up altogether. Can’t anyone do anything right without me?’

‘We have stolen back many books from the High Tower,’ Lomar said, gesturing to the books lying all over the room. ‘Dividian has been taking them from the Great Library and passing them to Lord Jarrod.’

‘Evidently,’ Anthem noted, picking up a small notebook from the table and flipping through its pages.

‘Ash has been researching and practising black magic,’ Samuel added.

‘Black magic?’ Anthem asked with disbelief. ‘Why, by the nine gods, would he deal with such a foul art? The man should know better. It will be his ruin to meddle with such things.’

‘Perhaps, that is exactly why Master Ash is the one using black magic,’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘Perhaps the Archmage or Lord Jarrod have goaded him into it.’

‘Possible,’ Anthem replied, nodding and raising one grey eyebrow in thought. ‘Master Ash would be only too keen to experiment with some power that could put him above other magicians, but it makes no real sense. The Archmage already has as many magicians as he requires at his command, and he has the Staff of Elders. Why would he want more power than that?’

‘For the Argum Stone,’ Samuel informed.

‘What’s that?’ Anthem asked.

Samuel was genuinely surprised that the old man had not heard of the relic. He was sure his old principal would have known everything. ‘It’s an artefact from the Age of the Ancients. It has been put inside the High Tower while they study it. We believe it is dormant now and that Ash is working to awaken it. They don’t seem to have discovered the final secrets on how to do so. We were hoping the secrets may be here in one of these books, but so far we’ve had little luck.’

‘And what do you think they’ll do with the thing if they do manage to awaken it? What can it do?’ Anthem asked with interest.

‘I’m not exactly sure anyone knows what it can do,’ Samuel informed the old man, ‘but the Archmage is certain it will help them to overthrow Garteny. In fact, he seems to think it will assure a sweeping victory.’

‘Can it be that powerful?’ the old man asked with a hint of disbelief.

‘He seemed to think so,’ Samuel replied.

‘Then what should we do?’ Goodfellow asked.

Anthem rubbed his whiskered chin with his bony, freckled hand. ‘The Gartens are already prepared for the war, but I fear it will be long and bloody. If the Emperor sends such an artefact into the fray, it will be nothing short of disastrous. Either way, if there is anything we can do to stop it, we should try.’

‘Is it true you are a Garten, Grand Master?’ Samuel asked.

The old man nodded solemnly. ‘I am, but I have not been back for a long, long time. It is not a place where I would be welcomed.’

‘How is it that Garten withstood the Emperor’s forces when every other nation of Amandia fell?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘No one seems to know the whole story of how the Great War ended. Was it because of something you did?’ At that, the old man pinned Goodfellow with blazing eyes. ‘I only ask because everyone has heard the tales and stories. It would be good to know first-hand what happened.’

‘That’s true enough-very few people know the whole truth of the Great War,’ the old man said. ‘I am one of them, so let me tell you what happened. As the nations of Amandia fell beneath the crushing might of the Empire, the Gartens, far away in the frigid north, became naturally wary. The Emperor’s diplomats had been pleading ignorance and spouting lies to King Otgart for years, but they were quickly removed from their heads after envoys from Pine Vale and Tudonnam came to see the King, begging for assistance and telling him of all the Empire had been plotting. The King sent his armies into battle without delay. When Garten and Turian forces first met on the battlefield, it looked as if the Gartens would last no longer than our neighbours, for the Emperor had five powerful magicians at his service who could tear through men like wet paper.’

‘The Lions?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘That’s right,’ Anthem confirmed with a nod. ‘They could not be defeated, and the battle looked set to be lost before it had hardly begun. It was then that the King sent my brother and me out to meet them.’

‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ Samuel interrupted, full of surprise.

The old man gave Samuel a piercing look before continuing. ‘We faced them on Raven Fields-’

‘-and you beat them?’ Samuel said impatiently.

‘No, young fool. And stop interrupting me! If you want to hear the rest of this story hold your infernal tongue. My brother was greatest of the Garten magicians by far and I was but a distant second behind him. Together, we waged our spells against theirs and we fought long and hard. They were surprised at first that two men, especially barbaric Gartens, could stand against them for so long. I was quite strong at the time and my brother more so, and we held them back for as long as we could. As we tired, the Lions began to gain the upper hand. It was then, as fate would have it, that one of the Lions made a terrible mistake. He took a glancing blow from a savage spell sent by my brother and was befuddled momentarily, but long enough for him to inadvertently cast a spell against one of his own fellows-Levin Tudor was his name. The man was horribly wounded and would have died at once, had my brother not come to the man’s aid. At first, the others continued to attack my brother, pummelling him with spells that should have struck him dead, but his resolve was so great that he could not be felled. Finally, they realised what he was doing and stood dumbfounded by their own foolishness. There, amongst the blood and the bones and the corpses of the fallen on Raven Fields, the salvation of Garteny was founded in the pact we made.

‘So great was the relief of the Lions when they realised their friend had been saved, and so astounded were they by the compassion of my brother, that it was as if some dark veil was lifted from their eyes. They realised they had been fighting and conquering and ignorantly obeying the Emperor for so long that they had forgotten to use the greatest gift that any magician has-reason. Despite the fact that all five were the stoutest of Turian patriots, they finally gained the ability to actually think that, yes, perhaps the Emperor could be mistaken.

‘We forged a plan and an alliance right there, that the Empire’s rampant warring should cease and we would free all the nations that it had captured and plundered over the centuries-a plan that is being enacted right up to this very moment, but I shall tell you more of that later.

‘My brother and I joined the Lions, but we knew that even all seven together could not defeat the Archmage and his almighty Staff of Elders. We fabricated the guise that we had been mistreated in Garteny and that our lives were misery there and, when we started blasting our own defences to pieces, the Empire accepted us with open arms. The defeat of Garteny looked assured at that point, but then we began to execute our plan. Together with the Lions, we began to sap at the strength of the Emperor’s great army, sabotaging their efforts and crippling their assaults. We each began to feign exhaustion and the Turians thought that all their luck had disappeared at once.

‘The Emperor’s men lost their momentum and their progress into the north began to slow. The last few precious months passed and winter set in quickly, forcing both sides to dig in and wait it out. The men of the south were not ready for such hardships and their resolve drained away with the blood in their cheeks. At last, the Emperor’s generals realised they could not go on and returned to Cintar, where they were promptly executed. The Gartens laboured hard all through the winter, fortifying their cities and bolstering their forces with conscripts from all over the great frozen north. By the time spring had next arrived, they had well readied their defences.

‘In the meantime, we Lions had begun searching for allies amongst the outer states, surreptitiously sowing general unrest throughout the Empire. Rioting and rebellions sprang up all over and the Emperor’s forces were kept busy quelling them that year and the next. It was then that the treaty was signed, for the Emperor feared his borders had been expanded too quickly. His new territories were still unstable and he needed time to consolidate his rulership. He was confident that he could bide his time and take Garteny at his later convenience, but each passing year only readied the north-men more for his assault. By the time the Emperor was once again ready to forge north, he found a very different picture. The Gartens had fortified their cities and bolstered their armies beyond what the Emperor could have believed. Every Turian spy and diplomat and assassin in the capital had been painstakingly rooted out and killed. The Emperor would need more than just sheer manpower to conquer these vast new walls and defences. Even we Lions would not be enough.

‘This is where he turned to the Order. I had been living and studying in Cintar for nearly eight years when it became known that the Emperor wanted our magical assistance in breaking the Garten defences. The only solution was to build a bigger and stronger force of magicians to aid the Imperial armies. Not every magician could be as powerful as the Lions, but they didn’t need to be, just as long they were great enough in number. We were charged with converting the School from little more than a halfway house for idle, old magicians into a genuine academy of magic. We began scouring the lands for talented young pupils. We promised the Emperor that, eventually, we would be able to find greater spells and produce more magicians, until we could achieve the goal set to us. Of course, we did not act entirely as we had suggested. We secretly forged an Order of Magicians that, rather than being another cog in the machine of war, was beneficial to all the peoples of Amandia. We did become powerful, but we purposefully avoided teaching those spells that could be used to maim and kill and instead focussed on healing and spells of a practical nature. Instead of touting the usual Imperial claptrap, we steered our pupils towards rational, philosophical consideration. We dared not teach anyone to defy the Empire, but we hoped to bring the students to a point where they would reach that conclusion for themselves-and, to a certain degree, we were successful in that. We continued to delay the Emperor year after year, hoping that some day he would finally give up his plans to continue with the war and allow himself to slip away peacefully. It’s been so long, we had actually started to believe we had won.’

‘But what made the Emperor so intent on suddenly invading Garteny again?’ Goodfellow asked. ‘It must be at least forty years since the battle of Raven Fields.’

‘At least,’ Anthem agreed. ‘I can’t say for sure what has made him suddenly so set on marching north once more. Perhaps it was Lord Jarrod promising him certain victory, or perhaps it was Master Celios foretelling he would finally have a son, or perhaps he thought it was just good timing. Who can know? But let me get back to my tale.

‘During my initial years in Turia, I had come to know Master Vim, who luckily enough was appointed as principal of this new School of Magic. He was a stout patriot, but also a very intelligent man and a pacifist at heart. We certainly saw eye to eye in many things. When old Master Vim finally passed away, I inherited his position, chiefly because I had become easily the most accomplished magician in the Empire, and also because of a single terrible thing that I did, which has kept me in favour with the Emperor all these years. I have spent every day of my life since that time endeavouring to keep magicians out of the Emperor’s armies, but now the accursed Lord Jarrod has gone and undone all our good work.’

‘I always thought the Empire won the last battle of the war,’ Eric stated. ‘From what you describe, the Empire ended up retreating?’

‘Do you think Garteny would still exist if Turia had won? It was a bitter defeat for the Empire and the truth of the matter cannot be told in these parts lest you risk losing your head. Many of the historical works that line the Emperor’s university are tainted with more than their fair share of such fiction.’

‘And what happened to your brother? Samuel asked. ‘Did he return to Cintar with you?’

The old man shook his head. ‘No. No, he did not.’

‘Where is he?’ Eric asked.

‘This is the tragedy of which I spoke. When my brother and I first joined with the five Lions, we needed to ensure our defection was believable. This meant we had to fight side by side with the Turians and we had to make it look like we really had a sound disliking for our Garten kin. We started by destroying a few fortifications and spooking the odd warhorse, but we quickly realised that this would not be enough. In order to save millions, we would have to be theatrical in killing a few hundred. But Salu refused to kill, no matter how many times I told him it would save more lives in the future. He refused my plan outright.

‘He was always the first into action when it came to saving any living thing, be it a man, a beast or a butterfly, but he could see no logic in our plan to save countless lives in the war, for Salu was a simpleton. He was a genius at certain things, such as the carving and crafting and casting spells, but every morning when we awoke I had to help him tie his shoelaces. He could never remember how, no matter how many times I tried to teach him.

‘Incensed by the Emperor’s bloodthirsty commands, my brother was driven into a sudden fit of rage. He went at the Emperor like a beast, tearing away the Emperor’s protections like a child tears through the layers of a gift-wrapped toy. He threw the Archmage and the Staff of Elders aside like playthings and went charging at the Emperor like a mad bull. The Emperor felt terror for perhaps the first time in his life and then I did the thing that has kept him in my debt all these years-the thing for which I have been damned ever since. I attacked my own brother before he could kill the Emperor; not because I didn’t want the man dead, because I verily did want that, but because I did not want Salu to live with the guilt of such an act, as I knew he would. I drove him back with my own power until his fury had passed and he fell sobbing to the floor. I slapped him in the face and scorned him for behaving like an animal. That slap hit him like no blast of power ever could-the look on his face was of absolute shock and dismay. He stood up and fled from the scene and that was the last I ever saw him.

‘Men were sent out to bring him back, of course. More men were sent out after that and more, but none were ever seen again. Eventually, they just stopped sending men. I have never seen my brother since then and I have never been back to Garteny. I don’t know what came over me at the time and countless souls would curse my name if they knew the truth, but I am the man who saved the Emperor’s life and I have been trying to undo that mistake ever since. This tale also explains why the Emperor has imprisoned himself in Cintar since that time, rarely leaving the palace walls without entire armies around him. He is terrified that one day Salu will return to finish the job.’

‘So what do we do now, Grand Master?’ Eric asked.

Anthem looked up from his melancholy thoughts. ‘It’s time to undo the wrongs of the past and make up for past mistakes.’ The two Erics looked to each other, confused. ‘We act,’ Anthem continued. ‘Our efforts to stop the Emperor’s lust for conquest have failed. Our strategies to unite the land peacefully through the Order have been exhausted. It’s time we acted swiftly and concisely. We must do what no one else has ever been able to do. We must do what we originally intended to do, what I failed do and what has been foretold we will do-we must finally kill the Emperor of Turia.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Eric stated in total disbelief.

‘I’m deadly serious. It is time for an end to his power-driven madness. It’s time to end his wars and let people be free of his shadow, once and for all.’

‘Grand Master,’ Lomar began, ‘such an idea is not new. Many people have tried to kill the Emperor, many times in fact, and none has even been nearly successful, except for your brother as you described-and he has not been seen since that day. The Archmage keeps the Emperor surrounded by the most powerful spells and he has elite guards by his side day and night. Even the Circle of Eyes has failed to kill him. I must say, it seems impossible!’

‘It’s not impossible, by any means,’ the wiry old Grand Master corrected. ‘While it’s true that such a task does present its difficulties, what do you think I have spent the greater part of my life considering? In truth, the Order has wasted countless years secretly searching for my brother, all without avail; but we now have an alternative means of getting to the Emperor. Still, we must strike decisively and without error, for if we fail it will be the end of all our hopes and almost certainly our lives.’

‘So you have a plan?’ Samuel asked.

‘Not exactly,’ the old man admitted, ‘but we must put one together quickly. I’m sorry to say that the introduction of this new relic-something no one could have foretold- has thrown all my existing plans to the wind. It they manage to awaken this Argum Stone and it proves even nearly as powerful as the Staff of Elders, the war will begin anew and more lives will be forfeited. The Emperor can stay safely in Cintar under the protection of the Staff of Elders, while the Argum Stone goes north to obliterate the Gartens. Who knows? Perhaps the Emperor would even like to see the battlefront himself this time? With two Ancient relics of power in his hands, who can say what the Emperor can and cannot achieve? Before this happens, we must kill him. It has never been done before, but we now have something that I believe will make all the difference.’

‘What’s that?’ Samuel asked with great curiosity.

The old magician’s face creased with wrinkles as he grinned back towards Samuel. ‘Well, my boy-it’s you. ’

‘Me!’ Samuel said, startled and the Erics and Lomar seemed to share his surprise.

‘That’s right. You can do the one thing that no other person can. You can kill the Emperor.’

‘I have no idea how that could be so,’ Samuel declared. ‘How can I possibly kill the Emperor? I’m not nearly as powerful as some other magicians, even after everything I’ve learned.’

‘It’s not a matter of power, Samuel,’ the old man revealed. ‘It’s a matter of its application. You can approach the Emperor without anyone knowing you are even there, for not even the keenest of magicians can detect you while your magic is unsummoned. Even I was quick to dismiss this facet of your nature, when not even the greatest of magicians could achieve the same through spells. Once you are near enough to the Emperor, you can unravel his protection spell by spell and he can be killed like any man. You are the magician that cannot be found.’

‘The magician that cannot be seen,’ Samuel corrected.

‘That’s another interpretation,’ old Anthem admitted, ‘or it could also be the magician that cannot be felt, or cannot be heard or even the magician that returns by some people’s reckoning.’

‘Samuel has just returned,’ Eric said, jumping on the realisation.

‘But so have you, Eric,’ Goodfellow added.

‘Or so could your brother, Grand Master,’ Samuel concluded. ‘He could return and he could possibly kill the Emperor.’

‘That’s just my point,’ the old Grand Master agreed. ‘Such vague statements can be interpreted in almost any number of ways and are darned next to useless. You see, you have now returned to us, Samuel, just as the prophecy foretold, but so has almost everyone in some way or another. I can bend such words any way I see fit to suit the circumstance. Master Celios’ damn prediction has been the cause of more trouble than it’s worth. Whatever its true meaning, if indeed it has any, I believe we must ignore the finer details and just help the damned thing come to fruition. We kill the Emperor with the help of Samuel’s second unique ability that will help him with the task.’ And the old man looked to Samuel expectantly.

Samuel’s mouth fell open and it took him a moment to gather his wits. ‘How did you know?’ he asked, veritably gobsmacked.

‘I may be old, Samuel, but I’m not an old fool. I have been watching you since the day you first arrived here. At first, I was not sure, and we were so busy minding after young Master Pot here-thinking he was the answer to our prayers-that we couldn’t see what was before our noses. Your eyes follow your spells like a falcon follows its prey. By the nine gods, I only have to cast a quick bit of magic and you blink like you’ve been blinded! I always suspected it of Salu, but he would never tell me for sure, but I know you have the same special gift that he possessed, Samuel. You can see magic. It’s the only explanation for the neatness and quickness of your spells, Samuel. You seem to be an enigma of many sorts.’

‘What does he mean, Samuel?’ Goodfellow asked, full of confusion.

Samuel took a deep breath. ‘What he says is true. Since I can remember, I can actually see magic. I can see it like most people can see their own two hands.’

‘That’s incredible!’ Goodfellow exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell us?’

Samuel shrugged. ‘It’s not something I like to talk about. I’ve had enough trouble in my life without having something else to mark me apart from everyone else.’

‘Well, it does make you unique,’ Anthem explained, ‘and now that the focus is away from Eric, it makes you dangerous. I don’t know if the Archmage knows the true extent of your abilities, but he knows enough to make him wary. He knows the prophecy as well as anyone and even suspicion is enough to get a man killed in this city. You’re lucky you haven’t been killed already, with all the damn foolish mistakes you’ve been making.’

‘Even if he manages to kill the Emperor, what then?’ Lomar asked.

‘The Emperor is the Empire. Once he is dead, we will free the nations he has conquered over his wretched lifetime. At last, Amandia can live in peace and freedom as it did before the Empire came into power. The family lines of the old kings still exist. Such descendants can retake their places and the Emperor has no such son to follow him. A senate once used to rule in Turia and I would like to see such an assembly established once more. Even if Empress Lillith does have a boy, there are many things we can do to stop him from inheriting as much power as his father.’

‘Is there actually some kind of plan, or am I just expected to run up to the Emperor and stab him in the head?’ Samuel asked.

‘Don’t be smart, boy,’ Anthem told him. ‘We need all the help we can get. I have summoned the Lions and they will arrive soon. After they were sent to kill me, they could not return to Cintar empty-handed and they, too, have been in hiding. Together, we will overcome the Emperor’s bodyguards and then Samuel can go to work. I will need to teach you what spells are guarding him, and how each one can be undone. I have spent years scrutinising and memorising every trick in Ordi’s book. Your timing will need to be precise, for the Emperor’s protection is also riddled with traps and misdirection. At the same time, we will need to keep the Archmage busy, for you cannot defend against the Staff of Elders and deal with the Emperor at the same time.’

‘So we wait for the Lions to return?’ Lomar asked.

‘That’s right, but they should only be a day or two behind me at the most. Now, why don’t you tell me everything that has been happening since I left this miserable city?’

Samuel absentmindedly rubbed the deep scar on his left arm and listened carefully as Lomar told the old Grand Master of all they had done up until that time. He was not at all sure about the old man’s plan to kill the Emperor, but these days, he was not really sure about too much of anything.

That night, while the Erics had sneaked out into the markets to fetch them some hot dinner and Lomar had gone out to meet with Master Glim, Samuel talked idly with Grand Master Anthem as they both browsed over their piles of stolen books. The patrols searching for them had somewhat thinned. Still, Anthem warned them all to be wary of agents of the Empire.

‘Pah!’ the old magician spat, reading over some pages. ‘Half these books are nonsense! This one is clearly written by a lunatic!’

‘It seems many of them were,’ Samuel agreed.

With that, Anthem tossed the book over his shoulder onto the carefully placed pile of unwanted books. Then, the old man sat opposite Samuel and gave him a level look that made Samuel sit up and pay attention.

‘So tell me,’ Anthem began. ‘I feel you have changed much since you left Cintar. I remember you as a happy and enthusiastic young man and yet you return with a thunderstorm over your head. What happened to you in Tindal to make you so dark and troubled?’

Samuel swallowed nervously as he prepared to tell his tale. ‘I learned many hard lessons. I fell in love…I lost my love. I felt a magic inside me that seemed able to tear the stars from the sky and throw worlds to their ruin-when it felt the compulsion to actually come when I called it. I learned many great new spells, but I also learned to fear my own power. I killed men with such an untempered rage that I felt some unholy beast had taken hold of my mind. All these things I learned and I would give them up in a moment for the return of my beautiful Leila for, since she has gone, I have become a hollow and empty shell and my life has no meaning beyond avenging her death.’

Anthem nodded solemnly. ‘You are still young, yet you have already learned some of the harder lessons of life. These things of which you speak are the costs of becoming a man. Do not think you are alone in your misery, Samuel. Life is truly hard and we have all experienced loss and suffering. I would not be here at all if not for the death of everyone I loved at the hands of the Empire. My entire family-my mother and father, my sisters and brothers, all my uncles and aunts and cousins; my entire town, in fact-was slaughtered by the Emperor’s forces. Only my brother and I were spared, simply because we were in Qaldar at the time learning to be magicians. Everyone you meet has a tale of tragedy to tell, for these are hard times, Samuel.

‘Remember that you alone have a rare talent that can bring about a time of restoration to the world. Keep hold of your fears and your anger, for they are a passion which you can use to drive you, but don’t let them overwhelm you. Don’t obsess over the darkness in your life-remember the love you felt on those warm sunny days on the grass, lying in the sun with your woman in your arms.’ Samuel looked to the old man with surprise. ‘Yes, I too have felt love, long before I was a magician. I have not always been such a tired old man, and she, too, was taken away by the Empire, defiled and murdered like so many others. Yes, use your passions. Use them before they fade.’ The old man then looked up to the corner of the room with reddened eyes.

Samuel was thoughtful in the quiet, for the old man’s words rang true in his mind. He had been obsessed by his own desire for revenge, while Anthem had spent nearly all his life seeking his. The Empire was probably filled with such stories. After long moments, the old man’s words broke the silence one more.

‘Sometimes, as you say, our magic can feel so powerful that it begins to control us. When we lose control, we are not our own masters, but slaves to our primitive instincts. Only intelligence and intellect are pure and free from the stains of emotion. You must practise and learn to control yourself when you most want to let go. There is a time for such intense feelings as love and hate, as much as we magicians are capable of feeling them, but it is not when you are spelling. You should be free of these feelings and be a channel for the energies of the ether to accomplish the task at hand. When overcome by your emotions, magic can flow through you at a greater strength than you can control, dangerously so. Your spells can be incredibly powerful at times like this, but you cannot control them as you may think and it may damage you irrevocably. Do not overtax yourself, for the price of doing so must eventually be paid-as you well know. If you exert your body too much, you will simply die, for magic is by far stronger than any mortal flesh.’

Samuel nodded his head. ‘I understand.’

‘Really? Perhaps you do, but mastering oneself is one of the greatest challenges we can face. This is the true goal of any magician and one very few of us will actually reach.’

‘Do you think I will feel better once I kill Ash?’ Samuel asked.

‘I cannot say. I have always blamed the Emperor himself for my woes and when he is dead, I am sure I will feel a great weight lifted from my chest; but I do not think all the scars of such emotional burden can ever be entirely removed.’

‘And what of Ash? Do you think he is just another pawn of Lord Jarrod’s or is the Emperor or the Archmage ultimately in control?’

‘I cannot say. I am sure all of them have their own agendas, but who is to say which of them will end up on top? But if Ash’s aura is, indeed, tainted, as you say, then the dark arts may have already begun to foul him. If he has already been taken too far then he must be killed, lest he becomes a conduit for dangerous things.’

‘Do not fear, Grand Master,’ Samuel stated. ‘I will soon kill him whether he is tainted or not.’

The old man nodded. ‘It will be better when you have put your vengeance behind you. It sends shivers up my spine to hear you talk like that.’

‘It keeps me going,’ Samuel replied as way of explanation. ‘I have a question for you, Grand Master,’ he then announced. ‘I saw you challenge the other Grand Masters one time in the Great Hall. You cast a spell that drained their strength into your own. How do you work such a spell?’

‘So you know about it? Ha, ha! Of course you do! I forget you can see magic as I can see this table…or this chair,’ and he tapped on each to illustrate his point.

‘I’ve tried to emulate the spell many times, but I cannot.’

Anthem laughed aloud as the Erics were coming in through the door with a steaming hamper full of sweet-smelling food between them. ‘Ah my boy,’ Anthem said, still filled with mirth, ‘you cannot be master of everything! Allow me to have my one little secret, please! Perhaps I can teach you another time. Now, I’m starving to death. Let us feast.’

Samuel nodded solemnly as the old man snatched up the food that Goodfellow had set down and began to wolf it down like a ravenous hound.

Old Anthem sneaked in and out several times the next day, and he finally announced that the five other Lions had arrived. A meeting had been arranged for the next morning. All their trusted contacts within the Order would gather, and their plan to assassinate the Emperor would be made.

They awoke early and went to one of the many inns down near the docks, in a private room on the second floor. It was quite a tidy inn, not nearly as stinking and rancid as most of the establishments for this part of the city, stuck at the end of a winding alleyway without any sign or notice as to its name, called only after its owner-Stocky Tom’s. It was a place where merchants would meet, sailors got drunk, and harlots lingered in the smoke haze; a place where, for the right fee, your secrets could remain secret and so it was just right for the kind of meeting they were planning. At this early time of day, it was also completely empty, which was exactly what they needed for such a meeting.

Grand Master Anthem, Samuel, Lomar and Eric waited at the long beer-stained table, while Goodfellow stood out across the street, keeping watch. Goodfellow had remained in his commoner’s clothes, but the others had changed back into their black garb to give them some credibility for the meeting. Master Glim was the only one not to attend, as his presence was still required at the School for Magic and he had found no excuse to slip away unnoticed.

One by one, the men came in, various mages who had each received word from Anthem, all long time friends of his and known empathisers to his cause. All wore their long robes and each black hem was personalised with a little coloured braiding.

Tulan Goodwin came in and seated himself last, nodding to Samuel and the others, making thirteen men crowded around the table. Samuel and Eric were easily the youngest, with nearly all the men showing a good deal of grey in their hair.

They waited a fair length of time and the five Lions had still not appeared. Anthem kept glancing towards the door, but the room was getting restless.

‘Where are the Lions?’ Samuel whispered beside Anthem.

‘I’m not sure, lad,’ Anthem replied, ‘but I don’t like the feel of it. I was counting on their presence to add weight to our argument. We may have to play this by ear. Anyway, we need to start this meeting now or these old codgers will start falling asleep. I’m sure the Lions have their reasons for being delayed.’

Samuel nodded in response and sat back against the back his chair.

‘Welcome, friends,’ Anthem began and the men all became quiet and turned their attention to him. ‘It is a pleasure to see you all again. Know firstly that your lives are in danger just by being here. Such a fact represents just one of the terrible injustices the Empire has imposed upon us and, indeed, all the peoples of Amandia. At last, the time has come, after many, many years, when we can move to action.’

There was murmuring among the men, and they all looked at each other.

‘All his life,’ Anthem continued, ‘the Emperor has been set on drawing every square of Amandia into his Empire and he has nearly succeeded several times. We have spent our lives living beneath the Emperor’s tyrannical gaze, and now we have the opportunity to finally end his accursed reign.’

‘You had better explain yourself quickly, Janus,’ one old magician spoke out. ‘I’ve better things to do than listen to more fairytales of freedom and equality. And you have some nerve summoning us here at a time like this! Palace agents are all though the city. It was no trivial task for us all to get here unnoticed. When we do get back, there’ll be some answering to do.’

‘All in good time, Master Quimbus,’ Anthem responded. ‘Suffice to know that this time, things are different. We now have an assured means of circumventing the Emperor’s magical defences.’

At that, there was a good deal of murmuring amongst the old men.

‘We’ve been searching most of our lives for a way to get past those spells, and you are telling us that you have now finally stumbled upon one?’ one withered old magician asked.

‘That’s right, Beanald,’ Anthem responded. ‘We now have a method of doing just that and believe me when I say it is remarkably reliable. I am confident of its abilities.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ a third Master called out. ‘Let’s go kill the bugger now!’

Anthem held up his hands to calm the man’s enthusiasm. ‘Eager as always, Master Vomer, but we need a slightly more sophisticated plan than that. We still need to take care of the Archmage and the Emperor’s bodyguards. We should also be careful to avoid the Royal Guards.’

‘And his armies, too, Grand Master?’ Master Quimbus asked sarcastically.

‘No, not his armies,’ Anthem replied slowly. ‘I understand that the task still has its challenges, but that is why we are magicians, so that we can use our intellects to overcome our problems. We need to find a way to take care of these obstacles and it should not be too difficult if we put our heads to it.’

Just then, there was a noise from outside-people shouting and calling out. Everyone stiffened and looked about nervously, but after another moment, the ruckus quietened down again and the men relaxed back into their seats. Samuel took the opportunity to whisper to Anthem.

‘What of the Argum Stone?’

‘Not here, lad,’ Anthem whispered back. ‘We don’t want to complicate matters any further. Let us continue,’ he then called aloud to the gathering. ‘To take care of the Archmage, a simple diversion should be enough-just something to keep him away from the Emperor while we begin our work. The Emperor’s bodyguards will need to be dispatched quickly and quietly. If the palace is alerted, the Royal Guards will be upon us like ants at a picnic, and I don’t need to tell you how bad that would be. The best place would be somewhere small and quiet, with four square walls around us to prevent his escape.’

‘We could call a meeting,’ one man suggested.

‘Or a demonstration,’ another called out, ‘to show him some of those spells he has always been pestering us about.’

Anthem nodded to them. ‘Good, good. This is what we want-some decent ideas to throw around. We just have one more tiny obstacle. I must personally find my way to the Emperor to use the new dispelling magic; however, as I’m a wanted man, I cannot allow myself to be seen. I also need young Samuel here to assist me, but he, too, is wanted on sight.’

‘Argh!’ Master Vomer called out, throwing his hands up in frustration. ‘You bring before us an infallible plan that is fouled from the start! How are we to manage all these things you speak of?’

‘I do have a plan,’ Anthem replied patiently, ‘but it requires all of you to assist me. I don’t mean to start sounding rude, but all you old fools have spent your lives complaining about the Emperor and how much you’d like to see the end of him, and when I bring you one good chance to be rid of him, all you do is moan! Listen to what I have prepared. I am suggesting that we call a meeting in the Great Hall, to show the Emperor what we have learned to help with his war. Some of his bodyguards will be there, but most of his soldiers will be forced to wait outside. Samuel and I will be secreted away, under the floorboards or some such where they will not be able to find us. The main problem, of course, is that the Council will insist on attending any such meeting and there are other details we will need to predict and account for, such as how we will explain whatever happens to the guards in the room. We don’t want to be cut to pieces immediately following our great success.’

The old men were all quiet and looked to each apologetically.

‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ another old Master admitted. ‘It does sound like the makings of a reasonable plan. What about if we meet again next week and see what we can think up by then?’

‘That is also a problem, Master Sandringham,’ Anthem stated. ‘You see, we do not have so long. For reasons I don’t want to get into just now, time is of the very essence. We may only have a few days at most to act before our chance is gone forever.’

The men again began murmuring their frustrations to each other.

‘Very well, Grand Master,’ the wiry Master Vomer spoke up. ‘We all like a challenge. I’m sure that between us we can find a way to perfect your idea. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really had nothing else planned for today, except growing another day older towards my grave. Let’s put our heads together and think of something!’

It was then that the door burst inwards and a sea of soldiers came pushing in, shouting and brandishing swords and spears. The room was small, and the magicians had spear-tips pressed up against them as the soldiers pushed into the room. Behind the men came a handful of black-cloaked magicians. The room was full of shouting and confusion as everyone jostled to move away from the raised and pointed weapons.

‘Hold where you are!’ cried a tall man as he pushed through the soldiers and into the room. It was High Lord Rimus. He held his arms up, so that his black sleeves, sewn with silver circles, hung around his elbows. ‘At first sign of a spell you will all be run through.’

Anthem raised his hand to make his presence known. ‘What is the meaning of this, Rimus?’

‘I should ask you the same. There is obviously some kind of plot taking place here and you are all colluding with some of the Empire’s most dangerous foes. You will all come peacefully to the palace and await the Emperor’s questioning, under guard. Refuse and I will instruct these men to kill you all. You are all to be tried for treason against the Empire.’

The old magicians looked at each other with dread on their faces. Samuel thought that the room of experienced magicians could easily defeat a few other magicians and guards, but not one of them began to ready any power. They seemed too afraid to dare anything.

Anthem must have come to the same conclusion as he, too, looked around the room at his worried fellows. ‘We will come,’ he accepted with a sigh.

‘Take them away,’ Rimus instructed and the soldiers began to prod with their spear points. As the old magicians were herded out the narrow doorway and down the stairs, Samuel began to tense-angered and readying to throw out his magic. A hand on his shoulder made him look around. It was Tulan and he spoke softly at Samuel’s side.

‘Go with them, Samuel,’ he said quietly. ‘Your plan was doomed from the start. They knew all along. Please forgive me.’

‘You bastard!’ Eric said, obviously having overheard and he launched himself forward, punching Tulan full on the chin. They all nearly fell down the stairs and would have if not for the sheer number of people crammed onto them.

The soldiers became agitated and raised their spears as best they could, but Tulan held up his palm to calm them, while the other hand rubbed at his reddened jaw.

‘Don’t worry,’ Tulan said, quietly to Samuel. ‘This is the best way. I will take care of everything. Just go with them.’

The soldiers ushered them all through the tavern and out into the street. Samuel could not believe that Tulan had betrayed them, whatever his reasons. They had worked so hard to get this far and now it was over. More soldiers and magicians were waiting outside, so their chances of escaping were reduced even further. There was no sign of Goodfellow, so it seemed that he, at least, had escaped.

People along the docks were all gathering around to look at the strange sight of the magicians’ arrest. Quite a crowd was forming and the streets were becoming clogged as everyone strained to look over each other’s shoulders. A few soldiers were attempting to move the crowd on, but it was not until they finally lost their tempers and levelled their spears that the crowd finally began to part. The soldiers then gestured to the magicians to continue on and they began marching towards the palace, shouting for the crowds to clear all the way. Samuel looked around for Tulan, but the man was no longer with them.

‘What shall we do, Grand Master?’ Samuel asked, pushing in next to Anthem.

The old man shook his head. ‘We may be brought before the Emperor sooner than we wished. Stay ready. We still may be able to go ahead with our plan if the chance presents itself, even if it is not on our original terms.’

‘Where is Goodfellow?’ Eric asked, squeezing in beside them.

Samuel looked around. ‘I did not see him. I was hoping he saw the soldiers coming and managed to escape.’

‘And Master Glim is still free,’ Lomar mentioned, also suddenly beside them. ‘They are our hope.’

‘Unless Tulan has double-crossed them also,’ Eric said dryly.

‘I would like to think not,’ Samuel said. ‘He doesn’t need to.

‘But that was quite a surprise,’ Lomar added. ‘I can’t fathom why he would help us and then capture us when he could have done so at any time before.’

‘That is why I feel we may have a second chance,’ Grand Master Anthem responded.

When they arrived at the palace, the enormous gates were closed fast. A crowd had followed them all the way, gawking and gossiping at the spectacle of magicians under arrest. Samuel was almost relieved when the gates opened just enough to allow them entry and then boomed firmly shut behind them, sealing out the awful cacophony of the crowd.

A large number of soldiers were standing in formation before the palace-several thousand at least. Surrounded on either side by the soldiers, about a hundred magicians also stood waiting-looking altogether disorganised compared to the stiff lines of attentive soldiers.

‘Eh?’ Samuel heard the old Grand Master mutter beside him. ‘What’s all this then?’

High Lord Rimus led them between the two starkly contrasting groups to the palace steps, where the other councillors, including Tulan, were waiting.

Samuel dismissed any thought of trying to escape. He had never seen so many armed men in one place.

‘Is this the army?’ Samuel asked of Lomar on his other side.

Lomar shook his head. ‘This is part of the Royal Guard-hand-picked to protect the palace. They are but a part of the Emperor’s forces here in Cintar, which are but a fraction of his entire army.’

Just then, more soldiers came out of the palace and started down the long palace stairs, followed by a small cluster of black-cloaked magicians. The distinctive shapes of Dividian and the Archmage were visible amongst them. Behind them, with golden-armoured bodyguards at their sides, strode a man and a woman, both splendidly dressed. The man was surrounded in such a cage of spells that Samuel had never before witnessed. There were layers-upon-layers of magic around the man, each so thick that Samuel had to dull his sight completely just to catch a glimpse of the man’s features.

‘Who are they?’ Samuel asked the brown-skinned magician in a soft voice.

‘It’s the Emperor and his latest wife-Empress Lillith,’ Lomar responded.

‘How many wives does he have?’ Eric asked.

‘About thirty, I think,’ the wiry magician replied, ‘and forty-seven daughters.’

Samuel was flabbergasted. ‘But the man looks barely in his forties!’

‘He is ninety-seven years old,’ Lomar revealed. ‘The power of the Staff of Elders is beyond anything we magicians can begin to imagine. It cannot, however, grant him the son he has always wanted. According to Master Celios, only Empress Lillith can do that, so the other wives have all been relegated to a distant second place behind her.’

The five Lions were there, waiting at the front of the Adept along with a few other old magicians.

‘Anthem’s old friends seem to have also been informed of our treachery,’ Samuel whispered.

‘So it seems,’ was Lomar’s reply. ‘Thankfully for us, they are still free and still seem to be on good terms with the Emperor. I am assuming, of course, that they are not involved in turning us in.’

After a few moments of talking with the councillors, the Emperor stepped to the front of the assembly and began to address them all.

‘Well,’ the Emperor spoke as he began his address. His voice was as youthful as his looks and sounded deep and confident. ‘It looks like everyone is here, so we can finally begin. Today is a wonderful day.’ And he looked at the gathering of soldiers and magicians and smiled sincerely. ‘How it warms me to have such a bountiful empire. My Royal Guard-dedicated to protecting me and my city.’ He looked to the Archmage and the gathering of councillors. ‘My faithful magicians-forever aiding my people with their spells and wonderful magical feats.’ He then pointed to Samuel and the gathering of old men with a frown. ‘And these traitorous vermin.’ The old men whispered nervously to each other at this as the Emperor began to stroll back and forth before them. ‘I see we have finally found the venerable Grand Master Anthem, at last revealing his true colours. I would never have thought you would resort to organising such an ill-fated effort to rebel against me. I was hoping you would do slightly better than this sorry effort. How you have fallen in your old age. When you were younger, you could kill men like you were plucking the heads off daisies. You killed five men for every one my Lions could defeat. Nobody could kill his own countrymen like the great Janus Anthem. How sad you look now, huddled amongst your quivering brothers-in-treachery. How the mighty have fallen.’

He then began pacing along the stairs. ‘The Order of Magicians has been such a mixed blessing to me over the years. On the one hand, you have been such a boon, granting my people health and improving my Empire in so many ways, but on the other, you have become ever so tiresome with your constant accursed nagging and bickering and pulling of my ear. This latest escapade of yours has helped me to make up my mind that the Order has deviated too far from its original purpose. Even my beloved Lions have proved to be traitors.’ At that, the five Grand Masters standing at the front of the gathering turned to face their Emperor with surprise on their faces. ‘Only a select few will be chosen to remain. The Order has been something of a failed attempt, but I will start again with a new generation of fresh-thinking and enthusiastic young men. For all of you gathered here, you shall immediately be executed.’ At that, the crowd of gathered magicians began to murmur and jostle nervously. ‘General,’ the Emperor instructed as he turned and began back up the stairs, ‘you may begin.’

General Ruardin nodded and a captain standing beside him drew his sword and raised it high. At that, all the Royal Guards slid their weapons from their sheaths as one and turned inwards to face the cluster of magicians pinned between their ranks. The Archmage and the councillors were the only magicians present that were to be spared and they made sure to keep their distance from the others, safely on the stairs. Tulan stood beside the Archmage with his arms folded. His expression was unreadable. The aged magician beside him leaned upon the Staff of Elders, with a thin smile of expectation on his lips.

‘Ah,’ Eric stammered nervously. ‘I hope this is where we do have some kind of plan.’

Magic began to be summoned all around as the horrified magicians began marshalling their defences, but another spell, surging forth from the Staff of Elders, rippled through the air, wasting their efforts completely. Even the five Lions, with soldiers bearing down on them with long spears, could do nothing to summon their power, and looked to each other with worried expressions. Samuel, too, could feel the Staff of Elders smothering his efforts to draw from the ether. Its power was absolute against them, especially as it had been brought to task before any of them could prepare against it.

‘You may continue, General,’ Archmage Ordi croaked, and the general again nodded to his captain.

As the captain swung his sword down ceremoniously, the Royal Guard began pushing inwards, stabbing and slashing at the magicians nearest to their blades. Panicked magicians began pushing in towards each other, falling and crushing against each other to escape the encroaching danger. The Lions had been herded down the few remaining steps with the others, and were regarding the spears before them anxiously. Magicians screamed and fell in scores as the soldiers worked at hacking them down.

‘For Garteny!’ someone called out above the din and Samuel turned his head just in time to see Tulan dragging a dagger across the Archmage’s neck. Tulan’s blade was wrought with silver-hewn spells that turned the Archmage’s own defences to scraps of screeching, wasted magic. Scarlet fluid spat from the old man’s ruined throat, in stark contrast to the brilliant silver and blue hues of the spells writhing wildly around him. General Ruardin stepped forward. His blade came out in a flash and would have had Tulan’s head cut clean off, but Tulan snapped a spell in place-somehow prepared against the Archmage’s nullifying field- and the general’s sword flew up uncontrollably, almost out of his hands. Blood continued to gush from the Archmage’s slit throat. The old man coughed and clutched at the wound with wild disbelief in his eyes as he toppled forward onto his face upon the stairs. The Staff of Elders abruptly ceased its spell and the oppressive force that had kept the magicians from their magic vanished.

‘For the Order!’ came another cry, and magic began flying out of the old magicians in every direction at once. Soldiers, who moments before had been slashing and hacking with wild abandon, began to fly aside like rag dolls. Seeing this and realising that all was now not going to plan, the Emperor began hurrying up the stairs with his wife and bodyguards in tow.

‘Take care of this, General!’ he commanded over his shoulder, dragging the alarmed figure of Empress Lillith by the hand. ‘Finish it quickly!’

The councillors had scattered away from the fallen body of Archmage Ordi and they were all scurrying up the stairs after the Emperor. In their hurry to save their own skins, not one of them had thought to pick up the Staff of Elders from where it lay, beside the body of the Archmage, covered in blood upon the palace steps.

‘Kill them! Kill the cursed magicians!’ came a cry from the Royal Guard. A group of bowmen darted up along the stairs and readied themselves to launch their missiles into the crowd of black-cloaks.

‘Run!’ Eric cried out.

Some of the old men had sense enough to defend themselves with spells, but others had either no time or no such spells, and were hit by deadly missiles or hacked down by nearby swords. A group of nearby soldiers flew into the air with cries of fear as Grand Master Anthem waved them away with a gesture and spell.

‘Go now! Break through!’ Anthem called out.

Samuel and his group fled out through the opening the old Grand Master had made and a tide of old magicians followed behind them, like black sand spilling from a cracked vase.

‘What is Tulan doing?’ Eric shouted beside Samuel. ‘First he damns us; then he helps us!’

‘It’s his plan!’ Samuel called back, ‘He’s given us a chance! The Archmage is dead and the Emperor is on the run.’

The two of them stepped away from the pack of magicians with a cluster of soldiers hacking at their tails. Samuel could see General Ruardin and his men cutting at the five Lions, but the wily magicians could not be felled so easily and were matching them, spell for stroke. If they could just be given a chance to gather themselves, the five old Grand Masters could begin blasting away at the soldiers in earnest.

‘We must get to the Emperor before more troops arrive!’ Grand Master Anthem hissed to Samuel. ‘Now is our chance to kill him!’

‘How?’ Samuel asked, spying the Emperor and his group already nearing the top of the palace stairs.

Despite the assistance of their spells, the magicians were sorely outnumbered and were falling under sword strokes, being peppered by arrows or skewered by spears by the dozen. Armoured and cloaked legs hurried all around as the conflict fell into bedlam in every direction. Spells blistered through the air and bodies from both factions lay everywhere.

A horn sounded from the great palace gates, which began to swing open, letting even more soldiers into the palace grounds. A magician appeared beside them, dropping deftly from the top of the great wall and throwing a spell onto the opening gates. The great structures began to close again as if by their own accord, while the guards all struggled in vain against them. The gates boomed back together and held firm, leaving just a handful of men inside the grounds, pulling fruitlessly to open the gates once again. Samuel could not recognise the magician from this distance, but he could recognise the spell-it was Master Glim. The man began sprinting about as if he were twenty years younger, throwing spells left and right as he darted between spear and sword alike.

Samuel quickly looked about to see if his friends were safe. Eric was a short distance away. Two swords hung in the air beside him and defended him from a duo of armoured guards, spinning and cutting through the air as if possessed. He looked worried, but not nearly as worried as the two soldiers, for they regarded the magical swords with terror, barely able to defend themselves.

Grand Master Anthem was deftly avoiding a flurry of spear thrusts; then, turning over his shoulder, he dropped the soldiers around him one by one with his knotty spells. As soon as one fell, however, another filled his place and more soldiers were rushing in from all around. Anthem was a master of magic, but he was old and even he had his limits. Just when Samuel thought the old man was about to be overcome, a surge of magic burst out from him and the ground thundered violently. The men all around the old Grand Master dropped to their backs and lay still as if dead. Anthem stood at the centre of the scene, surveying the litter of bodies around him.

A number of guards had observed this and with one riotous battle cry, they charged in around Anthem, their weapons raised. The old man disappeared amongst them with grim defiance set on his face.

‘Go, Samuel!’ he bellowed from beneath the men. ‘Get to the Emperor! Do what you must!’

Samuel momentarily feared the worst for the old man, but the Grand Master’s furious curses could be heard above the shouts and cries and tumult of weapons that issued around him, so Samuel knew the old magician was not done for quite yet.

A shrill woman’s cry drew his attention and Samuel looked to the palace stairs once more. The Emperor was now hurrying back down towards them. His bodyguards were gone and a score of plain-clothed men were bounding down after him with swords held high. The Emperor stopped and turned about, drawing his sword and decapitating the nearest man in one spinning movement. The others slashed at him, but the Emperor was bound in such spells that their blades found his flesh as hard as iron.

Darting through the melee, Samuel made his way to the foot of the stairs. He heard a great crack and a quick glance over his shoulder showed the palace gates open once more, and a horde of armed men was pouring through, all shouting as one as they charged in to join the fray. General Ruardin and his closest men had bounded up the stairs to help their Emperor, leaving the five Lions free to begin throwing their spells out towards the incoming soldiers. They each threw spells like a child throws stones at an ants’ nest, with each clot of magic exploding amongst the soldiers and dropping them by the dozen. From somewhere else, a Great Spell bloomed and a mountain of earth drew itself upwards from the palace grounds, forming into a giant monstrosity of rock and soil that began swatting at soldiers with its great fists. It was a mighty spell, but Samuel had not a moment spare to even begin considering it.

He leapt up stairs by threes and reached a small pile of black-cloaked and armoured bodies. He dropped to his knees and began pulling them aside until he found what he sought. Slick and warm with blood, the Staff of Elders seemed to be humming, almost as if waiting for him. He grasped its haft and stood tall, looking up towards the magic-encased Emperor with determination.

The relic in his hand felt ready. It had been waiting and now, someone worthy had found it. Such power ever begged for release-to be rid of the confines of its imprisonment and be vented into the world. Such power could be hard to resist for any magician, but Samuel had no intention of even trying.

He opened himself to the ether, but something unexpected caused his mind to reel. The power in the Staff leapt into him, surging up his arm and into his chest, filling his body and burning its way into his core. He could not have foreseen such a feeling and, once summoned, he had no way to stop the power from filling him. The sky above swam drunkenly and the great marble walls of the palace twisted and turned in place. The death cries and battle cries behind him sounded like long, slow moans. His heart made a crashing sound as it boomed within his chest, sending a surge of blood along his arteries and veins. Looking at his fingers, he could see the tiny capillaries bulging inside them. Smoke came hissing from the wood beneath his skin. Samuel looked up at the Emperor intensely, feeling the power of the Staff of Elders erupting inside him.

General Ruardin was bounding up the last stair to defend his Emperor. Beads of sweat were dripping from his brow and into his eyes and the man’s last footfall seemed almost frozen in time, as he hollered and squeezed his sword tightly in his hand, holding it forth to defend his charge.

The Emperor was calm and defiant as he faced his attackers, splitting the air crossways with his weapon, slicing open a man’s belly and letting his innards come spilling out at their feet. Another man was stepping in beside him; a man Samuel knew. His face was set with desperation, for his fellows all lay in their own blood around him. His eyes were wide as he desperately took his one chance to kill the man he loathed. His thoughts were set on this one moment of opportunity. He had his sword raised high and he was bringing it down upon the Emperor with all his vigour, like a beggar leaping onto a sudden stray scrap of bread. He had no green cap on his head today, and he was dressed as a palace servant, but Samuel knew the man’s face well.

Confidently, the Emperor began to ready his sword to pierce his assailant’s stomach, bringing its razor point around and up from the previous strike. His intention was not to defend himself, for he was invincible in his layers of spells, but to gut the man before him. He was not concerned with any sword stroke he could receive. He had lured these assassins back out onto the steps, away from the Empress and his unborn heir, and now he would kill them neatly and efficiently. The Emperor’s lips turned up to form a smile as the two men’s blades pressed towards each-other. The other man saw the Emperor’s blade pressing towards his belly, but continued nonetheless. He put all his effort into bringing his sword down with all his might, so that the muscles from his fingers to his shoulder strained and bulged. Both blades met flesh and began to press against taut skin.

Samuel, empowered by the Staff of Elders, could see each layered spell around the Emperor-interwoven, tied, reinforced and braced against each other to be completely impenetrable to both blade and magic. The spells would spare the Emperor from being crushed, poisoned or drowned, from being beaten, burnt or suffocated. They gave him strength and agility beyond the realms of normality. They would even protect him from time itself. The Archmage had thought of every possible threat and had used the Staff of Elders to cast protective spells around the Emperor that could not be penetrated or dispelled by normal methods. The only disadvantage of this was that the spells must be recast every single day to remain potent.

Samuel could see where each spell stopped and the next spell started. He could see all the traps and the misdirections that the Archmage had planted. He had the most powerful source of magic in the world in his hands and he did not need any further excuse to act. He only had to act quickly, for he had only been holding the Staff for the space of a heartbeat, but he could already feel his flesh beginning to smoulder and char.

He stripped away the Emperor’s defences as one, as easily as he could tear a tablecloth away from a table and leave it fluttering to the floor. Then, Samuel released his hold on his magic, and time sprang back to normal speed. The world seemed to leap back into life around him.

A spray of blood flew up into the air like a scarlet geyser as the Emperor and his assailant fell together down the stairs. The Staff of Elders dropped at Samuel’s feet as he shook his head and gathered his wits. He loped up the stairs towards the fallen pair on the palace steps, for he was not sure of what had occurred.

General Ruardin, encased in his golden armour, was kneeling over the Emperor. As Samuel neared, he could see the Emperor’s eyes were bulging from their sockets and his head was nearly cleft right from his neck. Tulan’s man lay dying beside him, with the Emperor’s blade buried up to its hilt in his belly, jutting out his back.

‘By the nine gods!’ Samuel declared aloud. ‘What have I done?’

General Ruardin said, looking at his fallen leader with a gaunt expression, ‘Don’t worry, Magician. You’re too late. The Emperor is dead.’

Samuel looked to Tulan’s friend. The last few embers of life were draining from him as he lay outstretched on the stone stairs, but as his eyes rolled towards the dead Emperor, he managed to form the briefest of smiles.

General Ruardin lingered over his fallen Emperor as if he had been turned to stone and Samuel had to shout at the man to get his attention.

‘He’s dead!’ Samuel said. ‘Stop the battle! Your men are killing everyone.’

The general stood on weary legs. He pulled off his golden helm and let it drop clattering down the stairs. He looked to Samuel with tired eyes, for the Emperor he had spent his life serving and protecting was now dead. It looked almost as if he, too, had been stripped of his life.

Just then, the Empress came rushing down beside them, dropping onto the body of her husband and wailing loudly.

Samuel looked to below, where the palace grounds were now thick with armoured soldiers and the magicians were just a few small black clusters amongst them.

Samuel dropped to his knees beside her. ‘Your Highness! Please, stop your men! The Emperor is dead, but more lives need not be lost!’

‘They are not my men, Magician,’ she responded through her sobbing. ‘They are my husband’s.’

‘But you can stop them-you are the Empress!’

‘Women have no power here, Magician,’ General Ruardin noted sourly. ‘With the Emperor slain, the Empire shall fall into disarray, for there are no sons to succeed him. The Empire is lost.’

The Empress looked up at the burly man with rage in her tear-filled eyes. ‘You shall have your heir, General! A son will be born to the throne of the Empire. He grows in my belly now. Celios the Seer has foretold it-or did you not hear?’

General Ruardin nodded, his face showing little surprise. ‘Very well, Empress, the Empire shall be yours until your son comes of age. I only hope it truly comes to be, for the Empire’s sake.’

The Empress looked back to her husband and closed his lifeless eyes with the palm of her hand. ‘Very well, Magician,’ she said without looking up. ‘You can have your way. My husband is dead. I have no desire for more such death or misery. Save your precious magicians if you wish. Give the command.’

Samuel felt rejoiced and turned to General Ruardin. The man needed no further instruction as he pulled off one glove and took a small whistle from his belt. He blew two short times and then finished with a long third note. He repeated the series several times and as he did, his men below slowly stopped their actions and looked up towards him.

‘Stand down,’ he called out across the grounds, and his mighty voice carried to all edges of the field.

His captains began to repeat the orders, shouting at the other men to sheath their swords. They hesitantly did so, for the magicians had killed many of their fellows, and their victory had been imminent. Other whistles began to sound and the Royal Guard slowly began to back away and reassemble into their ranks.

‘Retrieve the wounded!’ the captains ordered. ‘Quickly! Don’t dally about it.’

‘Thank you, Highness! I owe you my gratitude!’ Samuel said and hurried back down the stairs without waiting for a response. He found his friends gathered together on the grass, caked in blood and nursing their injuries. Various old magicians were limping about, looking for their fellows with tear-filled eyes, but they tallied barely a fraction of their initial number.

‘Thank the gods, you did it, boy!’ Grand Master Anthem told him.

‘No, it wasn’t me,’ Samuel replied. ‘Tulan’s men finished the Emperor.’

‘Well the job’s done and that’s all that matters,’ Master Glim said, shaking his head at the bodies all around. ‘What a sorry sight,’ he muttered to himself.

‘It seems we played into Lord Goodwin’s plan,’ Lomar said. ‘It seems he was planning to kill the Emperor all along and we were used as the bait.’

‘So it seems,’ Anthem agreed.

‘His dagger was covered in magic,’ Samuel noted.

‘I’d say it must have been,’ Anthem said. ‘He must have been designing those spells for a long time and waiting for just the opportunity to use them. He knew the Emperor was unassailable and so he went for the Archmage instead.’

‘And with the Archmage dead, the Emperor was vulnerable,’ Goodfellow added, ‘and Lord Goodwin’s men came in to finish the job.’

‘What happened to him?’ Samuel asked. ‘Where is Lord Goodwin?’

They all shook their heads.

‘Vanished,’ Master Glim stated. ‘I don’t doubt he is fleeing from the city right now. His plan was a success, but I don’t think the Empress will look kindly upon his efforts.’

‘But he did us a grand favour,’ Anthem said. ‘Because of him, our work has been done for us-in a way. The blame will fall on him, which is more than we could have wished for.’

‘Perhaps that’s what he wanted,’ Lomar said.

‘Perhaps,’ Anthem agreed. ‘Perhaps not.’

‘What of the Staff of Elders?’ Master Glim said, suddenly looking up towards the stairs.

‘It looks like High Lord Rimus has it,’ Eric said, peering up towards the stairs, for the Councillors had all come out of hiding now the battle was over and were gathered around the Emperor’s body. Rimus had the magical staff in his hands, wrapped in a length of torn cloth.

‘Then let’s go talk with him before he does anything stupid,’ Anthem said. ‘You lot stay here and help with the healing. There are already enough corpses and we need to help some of the injured before it’s too late. It will also help to undo some of the ill-feeling these soldiers now harbour towards us. Samuel,’ he said with a nod, ‘come with me.’

At that, Samuel and the old Grand Master began up the stairs while the others went to work helping magicians and soldier alike. The Empress had been taken away and a red,satin cover had been laid over the Emperor’s body. Servants and court officials had already begun to pour out of the palace to gasp at the scene and sound their lament.

‘Rimus!’ Anthem called as he approached. ‘Keep your hands of that staff!’

High Lord Rimus scowled back. ‘Well, it seems all your scheming has finally been effective, Grand Master. The Empire will quickly fall into a state of chaos once news of this gets out. You’ve really outdone yourself this time. I’ll see your head is removed before the sun can set on this day!’

‘It was nothing to do with me!’ Anthem said back. ‘We all saw it was Lord Goodwin who killed the Archmage and I think we’ll find the men who killed the Emperor, if not Gartens themselves, were in Garten employ. If that proves true, this may be part of a greater move against the Empire and we should check our borders carefully. A new Archmage must be quickly elected. Until then, the Staff of Elders must be placed under the protection of a Manyspell. No one person can be allowed to touch it. It is too powerful to be used without the utmost care.’

Rimus eyed Anthem carefully. ‘Very well, Grand Master. Unfortunately, it seems I must agree with you on all points. The notion of your treason can be looked into later. Come then, we can see to the Staff at once.’

Anthem nodded, before turning to Samuel. ‘Samuel, you won’t be needed after all. You had better go help the others then. I will keep an eye on the Staff until it is safely stowed away.’

Samuel nodded in turn, but spoke up before he left. ‘High Lord Rimus!’ he asked as the men were turning away. ‘What of Master Ash? Have you seen him?’

‘It is curious you should ask.’

‘Why is that?’ Anthem asked the tall High Lord.

‘It seems other foul play was at work today. Lord Jarrod has been found in his room with a dagger in his eye and Master Ash is nowhere to be seen. Either he’s met a similar fate or else he’s responsible. Either way, he has some questions to answer.’

Samuel cursed under his breath. He had been robbed of his chance to kill Ash once again.

‘What of the Argum Stone?’ he asked.

Rimus raised an eyebrow. ‘There has been no further progress with that infernal thing. I’m beginning to think it was some kind of hoax on Lord Jarrod’s part, but I guess we’ll never know now, will we?’

At that, the Councillors marched up towards the palace with Grand Master Anthem following at their heels. High Lord Rimus carried the Staff of Elders, wrapped in its cloth, and Samuel’s gaze followed the thing as it went. Its power had been astounding and he found himself already hoping he would have a chance to get his hands on it again soon.

Samuel then turned to survey the sorry scene below him. People were scurrying in every direction, tending to the injured where they lay or hurrying others away on stretchers. Piles of the dead were already being made-one bright in the colours of the Royal Guard; the other a mound of black.

Almost every experienced magician in the city had been slaughtered. It was a tragic blow for the Order and it would take years to replace such valued men. Samuel shook his head and started back down the stairs to help as much as he could. It would be a long day yet.