She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Read online

  After a few moments of listening intently for footsteps, Samuel realised no one else was coming, and so he resolutely returned his attention to the door. He lifted the latch—for it seemed the door had been sealed from the outside—and pushed the portal all the way in. It issuing a great creaking groan as it swung in on its great forged hinges.

  The room within was filled with a darkness that his lantern seemed hesitant to penetrate. He stepped in, holding his light source forth and peering into the void. He waved his hand to and fro, trying to burn away the dark, but his eyes were taking their good time to make out the details within. The sour smell of mould and mildew crawled its way up into his nostrils as he blinked and peered into the darkness.

  He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw that there was something squatting directly in front of him, only three arms’ lengths away, as if it had been waiting for him to arrive. It was a great bulking thing and, if Samuel had not been frozen to the spot, he would have dropped his lantern and run back out the door as fast as he could. It took a moment before he could gather himself, for the thing did not leap or roar or do any of the things his primitive fears had first assumed it might do. In fact, it took him quite a while to realise that he was actually looking at something more like a mound of furs—an inanimate bundle—rather than some beast crouched on its haunches.

  He had almost dismissed the pile altogether, when something glinted in the light and again he took a sudden breath. There, amongst the dark fur and shadow of the heap, were two eyes looking back at him. Bravely, he raised his lantern towards it and the light fell upon a patch amongst the fur that had been painted and coloured with swirling patterns of brown and red. Indeed, almost hidden amongst the patterns was a set of eyes and the thing started blinking at the brightness of his lamp.

  A hole opened below the eyes and Samuel realised the thing was now gape-mouthed, giving it a look of surprise to match his own. Astonishingly, as he looked closer at the mound and began to come to terms with what he was beholding, he realised it was some kind of person that faced him, a person sitting in an enormous chair and draped in layers of reeking furs and cloths. The occupant of the chair was blinking and moving its head, as if examining him in return, but it was difficult to believe that this was a human he was observing. Unlike every other living thing he had ever seen, this one had absolutely no aura of life around it. He barely knew what to think of it. No matter how much he concentrated his magician’s sight upon the thing, there was no energy at all to suggest that this was, in fact, a living entity of any description.

  He was about to say something to voice his puzzlement when the thing he was staring at beat him to it and spoke in a whisper that cut the silence of the ominous chamber.

  ‘What are you?’ it asked of Samuel, its voice a mix of fear and curiosity.

  There were two surprises for Samuel in this: first, the voice was that of a young woman. Why she was sitting alone in this dark chamber, dressed in this way was unfathomable, but that was not the end of it. The second and even greater surprise was that she spoke in perfect Old Tongue—the language of magicians. It was a language lost to common folk in ages long past. For a woman to speak this, now and in such a setting, was astonishing, to say the least. Every attempt his mind made to grasp hold of the situation only seemed to confound him further.

  Samuel hesitated, not sure if or how to answer, and the woman raised herself and took a step forwards. Most of her bulk slid away from her shoulders and Samuel realised that a good portion of her many-layered gown had been draped over the arms and back of the high-backed chair, exaggerating the size of them both. It could once have been a decorative dress or cloak meant for the cold, but the fur was so old and matted that now it looked horrendous—as if some diseased creature had died across her shoulders and sloughed its skin down upon her. She raised her arm and pointed to Samuel’s face with a long, black, painted fingernail.

  ‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded. Any hint of softness from that first whisper was gone and she now spoke with a voice that crackled as if she was a hundred years old. ‘Begone!’ The patterns drawn on her face contorted and exaggerated her features, seemingly designed to make her appear fierce and ghoulish.

  ‘I am Lord Samuel,’ he responded in Turian, for it seemed a sacrilege to communicate with a woman in the hallowed language of magicians. ‘Why do you speak in the Old Tongue? How do you know this?’

  She cocked her head to the side, as if pausing to digest what he had said, before responding in her ancient voice. ‘Don’t cackle at me, demon! Take me to your realm if you must, but do it quickly and put this nightmare to an end so I may awake.’

  ‘I am no demon,’ Samuel replied, matching her now in using the Old Tongue and she took a step back in surprise.

  ‘You speak!’ the wretched-looking woman declared with dismay. ‘What manner of creature are you?’

  He was about to answer, when some of Riggadardian’s men came trampling down the corridor and trundled in with their lanterns and swords in their hands.

  ‘The magician’s found someone!’ one of them declared. ‘Take her upstairs!’ and before Samuel could react they were bustling the woman out of the door.

  She seemed to struggle in her clothing to move at any speed, but the sight of their prodding swords kept her moving forward and she cackled and hissed at them all the way. Samuel followed behind, taking the long and twisting path that led back to the surface, still struggling to comprehend what he had found.

  When they emerged back out onto the deck, the other survivors were squatting on their heels and eating ravenously the food Riggadardian must have provided, but they abandoned their feasting and stood straight on sight of the woman. She joined them and they gathered around her, talking quietly and below comprehension, but with excitement.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Goodfellow asked, alerted by the commotion and coming over to join Samuel. ‘And what is that?’ he added, pointing to the raggedly-dressed woman with undisguised bewilderment.

  ‘I think it’s a woman.’

  ‘Astounding. She seems to be completely concealed,’ Eric Pot said, also coming to the join them with Grand Master Gallivan at his side. Both of them were probing at the woman with an assortment of spells.

  ‘No,’ Gallivan himself answered, looking as curious as ever and twirling his long moustache thoughtfully. ‘Not unless they are the best spells I have ever seen. She has no presence whatsoever. If I’m not mistaken, we have found another mystery to match that of the curious Lord Samuel.’ Gallivan looked from Samuel to the woman and back again. ‘What perplexing times these are. It’s not enough that we have a magician who defies all explanation, but now a woman, seemingly cut from the same mould,comes to our shores. This is even more baffling than before. Can it have any meaning?’

  Samuel shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It appears you’re not quite as unique as you thought, Samuel,’ Eric said wryly, but Samuel ignored the sting in his comment. ‘Now we have a woman to match you.’

  ‘There’s something else,’ Samuel began. ‘She speaks the Old Tongue.’

  Gallivan looked towards the group and formed a spell of Listening, amplifying their whisperings to be audible to his ear. ‘Indeed, you are correct. Indeed, they all do.’

  ‘But they’re not magicians,’ Eric said, stating the obvious.

  ‘No,’ Gallivan mused. ‘But they are obviously something. I think the time has come to ask some questions.’

  The four magicians went over to the group, who all looked back at them expectantly.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ Gallivan asked them, using the language of magicians.

  At that, one of them spoke up. He had used some of the water to wash the grime from his face, and Samuel could see he also had olive skin and narrow eyes. He nodded slightly before replying using perfect Old Tongue, although the intonation was somewhat strange and the grammar unusual. ‘We are from the Nation of Koia. Thank you for the hospitality
of this meal. We throw ourselves at your mercy for, as you can see, our vessel is in dire need of repair and we have lost our entire crew and company. We are the last of our party and close to starvation. We finished our water only yesterday and had given up hope.’ He looked around at the bay encircling them and the city huddled on its shore. ‘We really had no idea we had found land until just now. It is, indeed, a remarkable thing.’

  ‘How is it that you speak the Old Tongue?’ Gallivan asked.

  ‘I do not know this name. I only speak what I speak. This is our mother tongue, which we call Koian. I must admit, I am curious to ask how you have learnt it, in this land so far away from our own.’

  ‘We can discuss this later,’ Gallivan answered. ‘What is important is that we can communicate. I suggest you come to the palace and rest, after which time we can speak at length. I’m afraid you will find that you have arrived at an unfortunate time and there will be many questions for you. Are you the leader of these people?’

  The man bowed his head again. ‘Now I am. The others have died and so I have assumed the role of ambassador. We will be very pleased to accompany you but, before we submit to your requests, I must ask you, in what manner do you take us? Are we your captors or your guests?’

  ‘I can see that you are in a position of need, so we will provide you what assistance we can. You have no need to fear from us and can consider yourselves our guests, for the time being. As I have said, we will have many questions and I will not be the one to decide your final fate.’

  The ambassador seemed content with the answer and sighed with relief. ‘That is a fair response. I am glad that you seem to be a people of reason. Then, given that we are indeed your guests, would you ask your men to lower their weapons and allow us to move freely? We are simple people and the sight of such things is greatly alarming.’

  ‘I would ask you one more question first,’ Gallivan said. ‘What has happened to you and everyone on board? And why is this ship so bare? There’s hardly anything on board except you and the clothes you’re standing in. It strikes me as a very unusual state of affairs.’

  ‘We finished our food several weeks ago and have been subsisting on what we could catch from the sea, which was, unfortunately, very little. Everyone else on the ship either died in our escape from Koia, or has perished in the time since from starvation or illness. At one stage, we were sinking and so we had to throw almost everything else overboard until we discovered how to operate the pumping equipment. Unfortunately, none of us who survived has sailing skills. The other things we burned, for warmth and light and to cook our fish. We are court officials of mediocre importance and all the important envoys amongst us have perished. Can I ask you in return, what is the name of this land?’

  ‘This continent is called Amandia. You have reached the city of Cintar, home of the Turian people and seat of the Turian Empire.’

  The ambassador bowed deeply before Gallivan and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘Then we throw ourselves upon the mercy of the great Turian Empire. I have heard of this land called Amandia, but it is unfortunate that I have not yet heard the glories of your wondrous empire.’

  ‘One more thing,’ Gallivan asked and the Koian man awaited the next question patiently. ‘Who is that woman?’ he asked, pointing directly to the strangely-clothed woman who had been stowed below the decks.

  The ambassador chuckled as if Gallivan was attempting to tease him. He smiled broadly, but began to look nervous as Gallivan stood waiting for the answer.

  ‘Surely you jest, kind Sir,’ the man replied. ‘Don’t you recognise her? She is God.’

  The Koian survivors were taken to guestrooms in the palace and given the opportunity to clean themselves and rest. They had taken their belongings from the ship, which consisted only of several trunks of clothing that had been piled up in the room with the woman they claimed to be their god. Their ship, meanwhile, was anchored in place so that the Imperial engineers could examine it. Such a mighty construction was beyond their knowledge, but the chance to improve their seafaring abilities could not be missed. They teemed over it like baby spiders released from their eggs, marvelling at the complexities and difficulties of constructing and sailing such an enormous vessel.

  A summons soon arrived for Samuel and Goodfellow to attend court and they found themselves hurrying into the crowded palace stateroom. Once again, every notable face of the city was present and an air of excitement saturated the room.

  ‘Lord Samuel, Master Goodfellow, please come in and sit down,’ Grand Master Anthem called, for the pair had arrived last of all.

  Eric was already there sitting opposite and he nodded unenthusiastically as they sat and adjusted their robes into place. Chancellor Donovan was obviously already deep into discussion at that point and he continued once the room had returned to quiet.

  ‘So it seems, after extensive questioning by Lord Rubrick, that the arrival of these Koian representatives from the Court of Empress Moon has nothing to do with our current predicament. We can assist them with food and shelter, but little else, for they have troubles of their own. It is apparent that their own nation has fallen into war and they have fled its battered shores. Before we begin our other business, the Koian survivors would like to address the court and express their thanks. Lord Rubrick will translate for those of you of the court who may not understand.’

  Rubrick stood and cleared his throat. His voice was gruff anyway and so the effort seemed to make little difference. ‘What you will hear us speaking is the Old Tongue. It is very unusual for it to be heard by any outside the Order or by anyone who is not a magician but, as you have observed, everything in these difficult days has become very...complicated.’

  All eyes turned to an antechamber door, which opened to allow the Koians to enter the main room. They now appeared cleaned and in new clothes made to their own style and their prominent features were now more evident than ever. Their skin was tanned deeply and their hair was black and glossy. The men wore their hair in short ponytails that reached to their shoulder blades, while the women’s hair hung down to the small of their backs. Their eyes were narrow, but their eyelids seemed oversized, making them look positively alien. They obviously had a relationship to the people of the Spice Islands, for Master Rubrick himself had some hint of their features in his blood; however, the Koian faces seemed far more exaggerated and bizarre than that of the olive-skinned magician.

  There was quite a bit of murmuring from the audience as the Koians sauntered forwards to the centre of the room. Whereas before they were meek and even pitiful, a few days’ rest had made all the difference.

  Last amongst the party, and causing the greatest commotion as she entered, was the strangely-decorated old woman, walking with the other female Koians at her sides. Her face was again painted beyond recognition and her clothing had changed, although it was no less outlandish than the last furred outfit in which she had been found. Now, she wore a great feathered gown that had large bundles of coloured cloth gathered up and tied in seemingly random positions. She wore a voluminous, black wig that seemed almost solid and had two jagged antlers protruding from its sides, making her appear utterly bestial. Her appearance seemed to make no sense, but at least she had bathed and the overpowering stench had been washed away with the grime.

  The magicians in the room pointed to the woman openly and then gestured towards and remarked about Samuel, obviously comparing their peculiar magical traits.

  ‘We thank the Imperial Court of Turia for recognising us,’ one of the Koian men began, echoed by Lord Rubrick, who translated for the benefit of the court. It was the same man who had spoken aboard their ship, and it was now evident that he had grey wisps at the sides of his head, and seemed the oldest of the four men. The three remaining Koian men stood spread behind their leader and they passed their eyes calmly over the crowd that sat assessing them. ‘And we thank you for rescuing us from our fates at sea. I am Ambassador Canyon and I would like to pass to you a blessi
ng from Empress Moon. She had sent us towards a different destination, but fate has found us here. It is fitting, then, that her blessings should fall to you, our saviours. I must apologise for throwing ourselves upon your mercy in a time of your own misfortune. At any other time, we would greet you in a matter befitting two such brother Empires. However, I fear that given we have been delayed so long and considering the state of our nation when we left it, there is little chance that Koia still exists in any meaningful form.’

  ‘With whom have you been at war?’ asked Chancellor Donovan, curious.

  ‘With the Eudans. While we are a peaceful people, we excel at sea travel and trade. We exchanged our technologies with them in exchange for goods and food. Unfortunately, once they had our knowledge, they used it to invade our lands in a war that has lasted fourteen years. Finally, Empress Moon sent us out in twenty of our last and greatest ships to escape. We were assailed only two days into our trip by Eudan warships based on our own designs, and we lost our captain and half the crew. We fled blindly, without our navigation equipment and separated from the fleet. We were supposed to find the land of Fisk, far to the south of here but, unwittingly, followed the trail of the Western Isles. The continent of Amandia is known to us, but we have not traded so far north in many generations.’

  ‘We are familiar with Fisk, but we have not heard of your land. I have a question,’ Donovan stated, and Lord Rubrick translated. ‘What do you plan to do now, given that your mission has been such a disaster? As I believe you have been told, we are also besieged by warring nations and it is beyond our capabilities to come to your aid.’