The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (25 page)

‘Pigs’ ears,’ Eric announced and Samuel stepped back. ‘They’re delicious. You soak them in oils and spice and then fry them up in a nice hot pan.’ He smacked his lips with his tongue.

‘That’s disgusting!’ Samuel proclaimed.

‘Don’t criticise it until you’ve tried it, Samuel.’

‘I’ve
tried it, Samuel,’ Goodfellow informed him. ‘And you’re right. It’s disgusting. I’d rather chew off the soles of my shoes.’

Eric shook his head at them with disappointment and they made their way back to the school. ‘You two just don’t know what’s good for you!’ he declared with a cheeky grin.

Days always passed quickly in the School of Magic. Samuel lost all track of time and measured it instead by his spells and accomplishments. The seasons turned and days became cold, then warm and cold once again. Occasionally, he outgrew or outwore one set of clothes or shoes or another, but apart from that, his days were consumed by his complete passion for magic. Very little changed in the school; each day was defined by a typical routine that Samuel regarded as just perfect. Whenever he overheard his classmates complaining of the repetitiveness or boredom, he would quietly shake his head. He gained few friends by not agreeing, but he didn’t care.

Tulan Goodwin visited the school occasionally and he was always astounded by Samuel’s progress. He had been to the Burning Oak on occasion and passed on Master Kelvin’s best wishes to Samuel. Samuel learned how a new stablehand had been found at the inn. His name was Fennian, and Samuel chuckled when he heard this, for it was the quiet boy that had been working for Mr Joshua. It seemed Mr Joshua had managed to insert a new spy into the Burning Oak after all. Samuel had no idea how Mr Joshua benefited from knowing the goings-on of the Order, but he guessed the man must have some way to turn a profit from all the information he gathered in Stable Canthem.

As Samuel was chatting with Tulan, he began to notice something curious about the man’s magical aura and, as he nodded and followed along in idle conversation, he squinted his eyes and peered more closely at the fine shroud of weaves that curled around Tulan. They were particular to the man—unique, Samuel realised, but Tulan’s aura also had some similarities with other magicians with skills of divination. With a little practice, Samuel guessed he would be able to tell the capabilities of a magician just by looking at him. He could already tell the purpose of simple spells just by observing them and could even tell who the caster was if he knew them well enough. His
sight
was a great advantage to him in this way, as he only had to look at magic to know its properties. Others had to rely on the feeling of the spell and it took them much longer to do anything. At first, he had thought perhaps he would meet others in the School of Magic with the same curious ability as he, but so far, no one else seemed to be gifted with his magician’s
sight
. He kept the secret tightly to himself.

When Samuel was not practising or studying and had no chores to perform, he would lean against the balcony by his cot on the upper floor and watch the other apprentices practise their spells below. He would open himself to the source and let his magic fill him. It was a thrilling sensation and he would try to hold onto such feelings for as long as he could. Then he felt truly alive, as if every sense in his body was multiplied and excited. Best of all, it seemed that nobody was any the wiser and he felt satisfaction in the fact that he could manipulate such power right beneath all their noses.

Eventually, though, he would tire and have to separate himself from the source once more. Each time, he could channel a little more than before. Every day, he felt he was getting stronger and stronger. It only disappointed him that he could not hold his power indefinitely. There just seemed to be no way around the limitations of the body and it frustrated him no end, for he felt that there was more and more magic within him just waiting to be released. Somehow, he would find a way...

Occasionally, Master Glim would organise a few hours of sport for the boys, stating how, despite the fact that they were apprentice magicians, they were still just boys and needed to play boys’ games. They played football—it was a little different to the way they played kick-ball in Marlen. The school grounds were not so large that they could run without constraint, but they could always manage to have a decent game without breaking too many of the large, ornate vases that decorated many of the walkways or colliding with any of the passing old Masters. The Adept played little, but occasionally one or two would join the game and seemed to enjoy it as much as anyone when they did. It was a refreshing break from study, but Samuel had not played such games since he had left Stable Canthem and he quickly ran out of breath while the others were just getting started. Goodfellow, too, had little patience for games, not being very good at them, and spent most of the time strolling about, adjusting his spectacles and watching the others race past him.

Eric Pot was just the opposite. He danced around the ball and the other players as if they did not exist and could kick the ball as far as he wanted and exactly where he wanted it—without even a hint of magic. Samuel had tried spelling the ball, but the others had immediately caught on when the ball had started zooming along on its own. They chastised him with a friendly wrestle—but when some fifteen or so growing lads are all leaping on top of you for a ‘friendly wrestle’, it can be pretty uncomfortable, and Samuel quickly learned his lesson.

Master Glim would run up and down beside them, supporting one team or another—usually whoever had the ball at the time. Samuel watched him running along all afternoon, calling out and cheering without a hint of tiring. Samuel hoped that, one day, he could be as well-regarded as Master Glim. No student had a harsh word to say towards the man, for he was ever patient and thoughtful. Samuel knew that not all the Masters agreed with Master Glim’s kindly attitude towards the students, for most of the old teachers were very harsh and strict, punishing even the slightest whisper in class. These Masters, happening past the games, would shake their heads and scowl at the unsightly behaviour, no doubt thinking that the boys should be indoors being more constructive with their time. Samuel frowned at them, and then noticed the ball come flying towards him. He ducked just in time and felt the air whistle past his head. A knot of apprentices came charging in the same direction, so he spelled himself fresh with the tiniest trickle of magic and, hooting out loud, charged off after the ball before they could reach him.

Samuel found himself in the Great Library one afternoon, as he often was, searching the many high-tiered shelves for any interesting snippets of information about the Old Tongue. He found the history of the world fascinating. For instance, he had learned that in the days of old, the entire continent of Amandia was one nation with one tongue—the Old Tongue. For some reason, that old society had collapsed and many nations were formed through ages of war. Time had passed and the people had diversified in culture and habit. Further from Turia, the local dialects had become more and more diverse until eventually, in the lands at the edge of the Empire, they became entirely different languages altogether. Now, the Empire spanned most of the known world and Turian was the dominant tongue.

Garteny, in the frigid north, was the only civilised nation that still dared to challenge the Empire. Its remote location had made it difficult to conquer and its lands were vast stretches of plains and flatlands that turned frigid in winter. Those not used to such conditions had little chance of surviving there and the northern defenders could be summoned in enormous numbers whenever the need arose.

There were a few other lands still free of occupation, such as the sprawling marshes of Kabush in the southeast, where Lomar was from, and the massive deserts of Paatin even further eastwards, but, populated only by primitive nomads and wanderers, they offered little in the way of benefit to the Empire. Tiny island nations dotted the western oceans, but again, the sum of them all was not worth the effort to invade. Occasionally, some of these people would come into contact with the civilised world via some of the merchants in the markets, but mostly they kept to themselves.

Samuel considered some of the books he had found and gathered them into his arms, making for the study table where he had been making notes. He sat down and began reading, planning to pass the rest of the afternoon in that manner. He wet his thumb and began turning the pages, scanning each one for anything that might tweak his interest.

He came upon a passage devoted to the history of the Old World and found a section of particular interest. The
Lick of the Ancients
, the author stated, was the language of the first civilisation. There was little other mention of the language, apart from the name, and Samuel dug through the volume from front to back in an effort to find more facts, for he had never even heard of such a thing in all his studies at the school. The book was already several hundred years old, and a copy of a copy of the original piece, so Samuel was not even sure it could be regarded as accurate. He flicked to the last page and found the author’s signature:
Garrum
. It meant ‘traveller’ in the Old Tongue.

Going back through the book once more, Samuel was astounded to realise that some of the pictures and scrawlings he had passed over, thinking them just doodling and scribbles, could in fact be notes made by the author. If that proved to be so, they could actually be examples of this extinct tongue, far too few to be of any use in translation, but it would be something fascinating to show his friends and teachers. Samuel could not bring himself to leave the library and continued well into the evening, studying the book at length. He read in depth some of the references to the wondrous artefacts of the Ancients that could harness and direct magic for their operation. Many elaborate sketches were reproduced, depicting amazing and intricate creations, some the size of mountains, some minute in size. Samuel doubted such machines had ever existed, for they seemed preposterous and far-fetched. Nevertheless, it proved fascinating reading and Samuel finished by copying every possible example of the Ancient Lick he could find, as well as a short selection of the magical machines and artefacts that interested him.

It was then that Samuel became aware of someone standing behind him. The sudden presence of magic had alerted him, as if the person had spontaneously appeared out of thin air. Samuel kept his head angled down towards the book he was reading, doing his best to peer back over his shoulder.

‘You are very perceptive, Samuel.’

Samuel turned his head to see a figure standing there, arms folded. The man was middle-aged, stocky and quite muscular. He was surrounded by a magical aura like a storm of fire and Samuel had to squint his eyes while he dulled his sense of
sight.
He wore common clothes—trousers, shirt and a waistcoat—and so Samuel was at once on guard, for he was obviously not of the Order.

‘Garrum,’ the man said.

‘What’s that?’ Samuel said and then remembered the book in his hands. ‘Oh, yes. It’s very interesting.’ Samuel looked around for anyone else to call to, but he was completely alone with the stranger.

‘A legend among magicians. Quite a find, that book. It is said he lives still, travelling the earth in his eternal quest to be the ultimate magician—but I doubt it very much. It’s more likely he died in the battle of Warrenkeep long ago, when his fortress was plundered by marauding savages from the south.’

‘Who are you?’ Samuel asked, putting down his book and standing to face the man.

‘Please excuse me,’ the man said, pressing his palms together and bowing slightly. ‘I sometimes forget the most common of courtesies. I will not tell you my name, for it is in your best interest not to know—yet. But I must confess that I have been curious to meet you for some time—since I first learned you had arrived in Cintar. When someone of your nature is found, it attracts many of the curious.’

‘My nature?’

‘Come now, Samuel. Don’t be coy.’ The man stepped up to the shelves and fingered a few books. ‘We both know that you are no ordinary apprentice. Time is short and my presence here has probably already been noticed. I am sure that you have had many offers already, but you should know that of all the magicians in Cintar, only I can teach you what you need to know. The Order has many good men to instruct you, but they are in no way as gifted as you are. I’m sure you have already felt their limits, their weaknesses. It must be frustrating for you to be among them, having them treat you like an inferior.’

‘I have only just begun to learn.’

‘Exactly! How tiresome it must be.’

‘It doesn’t bother me. I am quite happy here so far,’ Samuel professed.

The man stepped away from the shelves, disappointment painted on his face. ‘Perhaps you are not ready for me yet, but that comes as no surprise. The black-cloaks enshroud you with their arms like worried mothers, then tell you their lies and use you as a pawn for their Emperor—and themselves. Very well, I shall leave you for now, Samuel, but remember, I shall return soon and I hope you are more receptive to my offer then. All the strongest come to me eventually, Samuel, and you will be no exception. Remember that.’

Samuel swallowed. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest.