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.
