The Young Magician

Bardick's eyes showed no recognition.

‘You came into my house and you killed my family. You tried to kill me, but I jumped into the river and escaped. I was just a boy at the time, but I’m sure you remember-I saw it in your head. Do you remember who I am?’

Slowly, realisation appeared on the man’s face and Bardick managed to nod just a fraction.

‘You were the boy,’ Bardick gasped, compelled by Samuel’s spells to answer. ‘-the boy that escaped that night.’

‘I was. What has happened to the rest of you-the others that killed my family?’

The man’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He was fighting Samuel’s spell, trying not to answer

‘Answer!’ Samuel demanded.

‘Some are dead,’ Bardick said, shaking his head slowly. ‘The others…I don’t know,’ he trailed off. Tears began to run from his eyes.

‘How many others have you killed?’ Samuel yelled, feeling the wetness of tears flowing down his cheeks. ‘How many others have you murdered!’

‘Many,’ the man gasped, with drivel dripping from his lips.

Bardick’s mind was breaking under the force of the spell. He was resisting the compulsion to answer and it was destroying his mind. ‘What do you know of Ash’s plans?’ Samuel then asked, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, trying to keep himself composed.

Bardick shook his head in confusion. Perhaps he did not know a man called Ash.

‘What of Mr Cervantes?’ Samuel asked, but Bardick could not answer.

The cut-throat gave a rattling gasp and slumped to the ground, stone dead.

Samuel shook his head. He had done his best to set a suitable spell of control, but the human mind was just too complicated and fragile. He kicked Bardick’s body over with his boot, over and over until it rolled into the river with a splash and began floating away with the slow waters. Samuel picked the man's cursed dagger from the grass and threw it in after him. He did not know if the other scrawny fellow, Olliander, would also suffer such a fate, but neither did he care. The man would either kill Ash or die himself and Samuel could quite happily live with either of those outcomes.

Leila! Samuel suddenly thought, turning to look up the grassy slope and shielding his eyes from the bright sun. At once, he clambered up to the dusty road and broke into a run. He raced as fast as his legs would carry him until he reached the Sallow house and burst in through the front door.

There was a shrill scream as he bumped straight into Leila.

‘Shh,’ she said, putting a finger to her lips. ‘Father's out in the yard. What happened to that man?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘I was so worried,’ she whimpered, throwing her arms around him. ‘I thought they would kill you.’

‘A man in Gilgarry sent them to kill me. He will keep trying until he succeeds.’

‘What will you do?’ she whispered into his ear and Samuel could feel her heart tapping against his chest.

‘I must kill him first. I will go at once. I don’t think his men will be so easy to overcome the next time. They will be better prepared once they realise I am not as harmless as they assumed.’

He drew himself from her embrace and took a step away. ‘Take care, Leila,’ he told her. ‘I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you. I will return soon.’

She had tears in her eyes and stepped after him, but Samuel backed away.

‘I must go,’ he said, and stepped out the door. He had wanted to hug her again, but if he had his way, he would never have left her embrace. At a time like this, other issues demanded his attention. It was time to kill.

He walked down the street to where he had left Jess and did not look back. Some village people greeted him as he passed, but Samuel could only nod to them in return. As he rode out of Lenham, Samuel realised that the entire village must know about his relationship with Leila by now. It was painfully obvious to anyone but a fool, with all his comings and goings from her house and their frequent meetings. It would not be long until her father found out and then there would be another problem to deal with-but that was another matter for another time. First, he would deal with Ash.

It was well after dark when Samuel crept near the camp. Small fires were burning around the tents where men drank and ate their dinners or crept off to relieve themselves in the chilly paddock. Samuel carefully probed the encampment with his senses, but he could feel no trace of magicians or Ash’s curious aura. With little else to go on, he turned his attention to the artefact in the pit. The moon was only a slim crescent overhead, and so Samuel walked casually to the digging’s edge, hoping no one would pay him any mind in the darkness. Looking down, he could see the shape of the tablet below, reflecting in the moonlight. The great round shape was completely revealed now, lying flat on the pit floor, chiselled free of its stone prison. No one had yet noticed him, so he took hold of the nearest ladder and descended into the pit rung by rung, until the last step had his boots crunching onto the gritty soil and stones at the pit’s bottom. Down here, the pit seemed much deeper than it appeared and all sound from above had ceased. The temperature had dropped considerably and Samuel felt a shiver dance up his spine.

He squatted over the object and carefully ran his hands over its cool surface. It seemed to be made from some perfect, grey stone-almost metallic in texture- cold and hard to the touch. Even this close, the object still revealed no trace of power and Samuel wondered if the thing was really the artefact from his notes, or just some old decorative sculpture of fanciful design. His fingers traced the edge of the six-pointed star. There was no hint of magic to the thing, but to Samuel’s instincts it still seemed somehow…powerful.

Carefully, Samuel formed a Lifting spell, and cast it around the great object, for he intended to raise the artefact and turn it over for further scrutiny. Strangely, his spell slipped right off, leaving the object sitting firmly in place. He tried again, intensifying his efforts, but again his weaves would not hold. Intrigued, Samuel leaned closer to examine the thing. He dared not try a more powerful spell, for he did not want to raise the attention of Ash or his men. If he was caught down in this pit unprepared, he would not stand much of chance.

Tapping its surface with his fingers, Samuel could only feel awe at such an artefact, for it somehow could resist his magic altogether. He was beginning to believe it really was the Argum Stone, for he had never before heard of anything that could defy magic in such a way. It was little wonder Ash was after it. If someone could learn the secrets of its magic-defying properties, it could have great consequence upon the world. For now, however, there was nothing Samuel could do. Only ropes and hard work would be able to raise the thing. Being able to do little by himself, Samuel decided it was time to return his attention to killing Ash.

Samuel climbed out from the pit and went back to where Jess was waiting. It seemed Ash was not here, so he would have to search elsewhere for the man. After Ash was good and dead, Samuel would be able to study the mysterious object at his leisure. He mounted Jess and made for the Count’s estate through the chill evening mist.

Entering the banquet hall, Samuel found the room filled with most of the same men and women he had seen the evening before, all talking gregariously and quite obviously all as drunk as ever. None of them paid him any attention as he made across the room to the Count.

‘Rudderford. I need your help,’ Samuel told the drunken man.

‘What are you talking about? Who are you?’ Rudderford slurred. ‘Oh, it’s that Samuel fellow. Come. Join us.’

‘I just want to know where I can find Mr Cervantes,’ Samuel said, speaking slowly and clearly to the befuddled man. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘There’s still some wine and ale and liqueur I think and there’s plenty of meat left as well,’ Rudderford continued, throwing his hand out towards the table to demonstrate.

Samuel was getting frustrated. He tried entering the old fool’s mind, but Rudderford’s thoughts were all turned to slurry from the wine and could not be brought into focus. Forcing himself to calm for a moment, Samuel asked the man once more:

‘Where…is…Mr Cervantes?’ he asked carefully.

There was a loud noise as the great entry doors slammed shut behind him. Samuel spun around to find Ash