The Young Magician

magicians were nowhere to be seen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What are we going to do?’ he asked.

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

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

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

Samuel conceded and sat back in his seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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