The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) Page 4

  Samuel eyed the man, scouring for deeper meaning in his words. ‘And what of his mother?’ he asked, looking to the brave-faced woman.

  ‘We have long talked of this moment,’ Lillith said surely. ‘I will remain here. The Truthseekers have no reason to pester me alone and if you can defeat the forces of Cintar I will have little to fear. I would only burden you with my presence. If your task is successful, bring my son back to me, safe and well. If you fail, it will not matter. You saved him once from certain death, Samuel, and I charge you once more with keeping Leopold safe.’

  ‘I cannot allow this!’ Leopold declared, affronted by such talk.

  ‘Calm yourself and be quiet,’ his father told him with a warning glance, and Leopold was forced to sit and wait.

  ‘Very well, madam,’ the magician said with a subtle nod. ‘I accept your charge.’

  ‘What is all this about?’ Leopold asked. ‘I will not stand for it! You can’t send me away with him.’

  ‘What will be will be, Leopold,’ his father asserted sternly. ‘You have no say in this matter.’ He cleared his throat, stood, and paced the room, hands clasped behind. ‘Rei is just a stepping stone to what you must face, Samuel, but she is a challenge nonetheless. In defeating her, you might gain the strength to better Poltamir without resorting to the forces inside you.’

  He sighed with concern before continuing. ‘I do not recall events ever coming to such a head. If you vanquish Rei and Poltamir then, perhaps, you will overcome your son, the Demon King. He will be weary and famished upon his return, and that will be the time to strike. I will not ask how you intend to do that. I assume you have a plan.’

  The magician looked to Leopold, taking a moment to assess his worth, and then back to his father. ‘I do. And with your help, Edmond, I shall return to Cintar, challenge Rei, and finish what I began.’

  ****

  Mother made dinner and they gathered at the table. The magician did not eat. He sat in silence while the old man and the boy went at their plates like ravenous wolves.

  ‘Do you never feed them, Samuel?’ Leopold’s mother asked with disbelief.

  ‘I sometimes forget such things,’ was his answer.

  She shook her head. ‘Then given that it is dark and I’m sure they are in desperate need of a rest, stay here the night before setting out. You probably forget they need sleep as well.’

  The magician nodded; a man of few words.

  ****

  With the meal finished, Leopold followed his father into the night air, summoned by a subtle gesture. They walked between the moonlit trees, with the sigh and thump of the waves sounding from the sea.

  ‘There is much I have never told you, son,’ the man disclosed, ‘many things you may never learn, or may learn to your dismay, but I only want you to know that everything I ever did was for you and your mother.’

  ‘I know, Father,’ Leopold returned.

  ‘I have tried to be a good man, but it was not always so. We all do things we are not proud of, son, so I want you to know that I was not altogether kind in my past life. Only here, on this little island have I lived truly and become the man I imagined as a youth, so long ago.’

  ‘But why must I go with him, Father? Why must I leave?’

  ‘Because I love you. Because your mother loves you, and as you will discover when you have your own children, we will do anything for you. You will go with Samuel,’ he told Leopold firmly, ‘and you will do as he says. Only once his business is finished can you return here. There can be no debate.’

  ‘But I don’t want to go, Father,’ Leopold stated, stubbornly voicing his objections.

  His father smiled. ‘Don’t worry, my son. Wherever you may go, I will be by your side.’

  They climbed upon rough cliffs that overlooked the sea and sat quietly. Leopold had countless things to say, but his father sat with composure and watched the stars glittering above the ocean. Leopold was reluctant to break that calm.

  Much later, his father stirred, and they strolled home.

  The old man and the boy had been put into another room and the magician was sitting on Mother’s rocking chair in the corner, eyes glinting in the fire light.

  Father disappeared into his room and reluctantly, Leopold went off to bed, closing his door securely behind him.

  ****

  Leopold stumbled from his room in the middle of the night. He had need to pass water, and went out into the night air, his mind still entwined in the happenings of his dreams, thoughts of the magician and his companions forgotten.

  On returning, Leopold stopped, unsteady on his feet. Something large and black loomed in the middle of the room. Its side flickered orange and yellow, reflecting stove light. It took Leopold a few heavy breaths to realise what it was, as his thoughts were trawled from the back of his mind, dragged to the surface through a morass of semi-consciousness. It was the box from the magician’s boat, now in the middle of their living room.

  Leopold gazed at the front door, not wide enough to accommodate the passage of such an object. He swivelled, his mouth dry and open, and stared at the box again. A movement of shadow caught his attention, then he realised it was not a shadow at all, but the magician, upright, sitting in his chair. Two pinpricks of light were shining inside his hood, set directly towards Leopold: eyes reflecting the firelight.

  The sight had Leopold fully awake, and he hurried to his room, shutting the door firmly and quietly. Dread followed him into the room, and, not knowing what else to do, he dragged a heavy chest across the floor to bar the door ... a precautionary measure.

  He crawled into bed, but could not easily return to sleep. A creak sounded from the living room and the noise had Leopold’s eyes open once again. The sound continued, a gentle creak, creak, creak, and it carried on unabated, until Leopold recognised the sound of his mother’s chair, slowly rocking back and forwards. It squeaked from the other room, keeping him awake. Long after, shivering nervously, fatigued from anxiety, Leopold collapsed asleep.

  ****

  Morning came and Leopold awoke with the sounds of the small boy laughing and playing in the next room. He dressed and went into the living room, where the others were at their breakfast.

  ‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ his mother said. ‘Come. Have something to eat.’

  There was no sign of the large, black coffin in the room and Leopold looked about with confusion, wondering if it had been a disturbing dream. He sat and ate as his mother instructed.

  Again the magician consumed nothing, only sipping tea, and shortly after they had finished eating Leopold’s father pushed back his chair and stood. A bag of Leopold’s clothes waited by the door.

  ‘Come then,’ his father announced. ‘It is time to go. Leopold, take Samuel’s companions outside and wait along the path. Do what Samuel tells you.’

  Leopold picked up his bag and led the other two outside. He waited patiently upon the path as he had been told, wondering what the others were doing inside. There was a strange nervous tic in his stomach. He was rubbing his hand upon the spot when the old man spoke, startling him. Until then, he thought the old fellow was incapable of coherent speech.

  ‘Do not fret, my boy,’ the old fellow said, gruff and hoarse, leaning upon the stick he had plucked from the beach. ‘Everyone must pass on, eventually. It is inevitable.’

  It made Leopold wonder what the old fool meant, until the door to the house opened and Samuel stepped out alone.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Leopold asked, stalking towards the man. ‘Where is my father?’

  ‘Come,’ the magician said, ignoring his questions, walking by.

  Leopold felt something was wrong, and he ran into the house, disregarding the magician’s instruction.

  Mother was kneeling on the floor with her skirts spread around her and Father was lying in her arms, peaceful, as if asleep. Confusion assaulted Leopold’s mind. That Father was on the floor and the tears in Mother’s eyes made it seem as if he were dead. But how c
ould that be? Surely it was not possible.

  ‘No!’ Leopold said and he joined his mother’s side, shaking his father by the arm. ‘Father!’ he cried. ‘Wake up!’

  ‘It’s all right, Leopold,’ his mother told him. ‘Your father wanted it this way. He has been preparing for this for a long time. It has to be this way.’

  ‘No!’ Leopold declared, with tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘How can he do this?’

  ‘It is better if you go, Leopold. Your father has given his life to save us. You cannot stay.’

  ‘Damn the magician!’ Leopold barked. ‘I’ll kill him!’

  ‘No, Leopold!’ his mother shouted after him, for Leopold had run out the door after the magician’s back. He raced along the path and threw himself upon the man.

  It was like striking a wall of stone. Leopold fell backwards upon contact. The magician stopped striding and, with indifference, observed him sprawled beside the path.

  ‘Come, Leopold. The longer you resist, the worse it will be.’

  ‘Damn you, you black-hearted devil,’ Leopold cried, his voice trembling.

  ‘Be comforted that I did not take his flesh, Leopold. Power exists in that as well. I thought I would leave your mother something to hold onto. She deserves that at least.’

  ‘Don’t mock me with your hollow compassion!’ Leopold hissed, looking up from the ground. ‘You know nothing of love. You are a demon, a murderer! I will never help you!’

  He felt foolish, a child throwing a tantrum, and yet he did not care. He gained his feet and fled, running to be with his mother.

  She was sitting quietly on the floor with her husband, running her fingers through his hair, touching his pallid cheek. Leopold hastened to the drawers and sifted for the biggest knife he could find.

  ‘What are you doing, Leopold?’ Mother asked him, looking up through her tears.

  ‘I’m going to kill him!’ he said, plucking out a large cleaver and facing his mother with wild eyes.

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ she told him patiently. ‘You will put that knife down before you hurt yourself and you will go with Samuel as your father told you.’

  ‘I will not!’ Leopold insisted.

  Mother gently placed the body of her husband to the floor, and stood, deliberately patting her skirts into place, standing before Leopold with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  ‘You are not a child any more, Leopold. You are a young man and it is time to behave like one. Your father did not give up his life so you could waste this chance to save us. Samuel is not what he was—not at all the reluctant saviour I remember—but your Father has enough faith to give him all his strength, his very self. He is there, in the magician now, and if you go with him, you may feel some of the noble nature of your father at work. If you stand here pining like a little boy then everything he has done is wasted.’

  Leopold sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He placed the cleaver onto the kitchen bench and held onto the timber top with both hands to stop from tipping. ‘Very well,’ he said, holding back more tears. ‘I will go. But I will come back to you, Mother, as soon as I can. I will not abandon you.’

  He turned, and the woman—sensible, reliable, loving—looked back at him with pride. She swallowed him in a hug and squeezed him hard, and he did the same in return. Finally, she kissed him on the forehead and pushed him away.

  ‘Go,’ she said. ‘I will think of you and your father every moment. Come back to me safe, Leopold. You are my hope. You are the crutch to Samuel’s failings ... do not forget that. He will need you, no matter how strong he appears, so do not let him down.’

  Leopold nodded and, with determination, he stepped past the body of his father and left the house.

  He dreaded going back to the magician, but he marched dutifully over the sandy paths, as he knew he must. He said nothing as he reached the three of them—the magician, the old man and the boy—waiting on the windy beach beside their vessel.

  ‘Get in,’ the magician said, letting Leopold clamber aboard.

  The polished black wooden box took up a large portion of space in front of the mast pole. Leopold eyed it warily before settling down behind it.

  The magician pushed the boat from the sand, faced it out to sea, and climbed in. He was wet to his middle, but did not care or notice. He stepped to the front of the vessel, stood straight and waited while the boat bobbed and threatened to return to land. He was immune to the rocking and pitching, a flagpole of black fixed upon the boards.

  Moments passed and they did not move—the boy and the old fool certainly did not possess the sense to help.

  ‘So what now?’ Leopold asked. ‘Do we sit here, or are we to travel by magic?’

  ‘Set the sail. Take us east,’ the magician instructed without turning his head.

  ‘Me?’ Leopold questioned with consternation. ‘Why must I do it?’

  No answer emanated from anyone and the little boat had already turned half about, parallel with the beach, bouncing on the waves. Maddened, and realising that if he did nothing they would run aground, Leopold set to work. He pulled the ropes and raised the simple rigging until the wind caught tight in the red sail and they started moving. The boat gathered speed as he aimed it eastwards, racing with the breeze.

  ‘Miserable magician,’ he muttered.

  He sat tucked into the middle of the boat, working the sail and holding the long pole that led to the rudder. The magician stood unmoving at the front, like a carved block of wood. Behind, the boy Toby was staring at him whenever he looked, and the old man had his head over the side of the boat, heaving loudly into the sea.

  Leopold eyed the hefty box in front of him. Its foreboding presence worried him. Brilliantly polished black, gilded edges, made of wood or steel or glazed ceramic he could not tell. Large runes or markings, of which Leopold had no understanding, were carefully inscribed along its lid in gold.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ The magician’s voice made Leopold leap out of his seat. ‘It won’t bite.’

  ‘What is it?’ Leopold asked, stilling his rapid heart.

  The magician did not turn, and spoke towards the sea. ‘A coffin.’

  The young man studied the box for long moments. ‘What’s in it?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ the magician replied. ‘It’s empty.’

  ‘Then who is it for?’ Leopold queried.

  ‘Me.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  In Search of an Emperor

  ‘WHERE ARE WE going?’ Leopold asked after many hours, for he had been steering them eastwards, with no other instruction from the magician.

  Noon had come and passed without any suggestion of a meal. With no sign of provisions stored by the magician, Leopold was thankful to find his mother had packed water and all manner of foodstuffs aboard the boat—which Toby and Salu quickly discovered and eagerly helped him to devour.

  ‘To Cintar,’ was all the brooding man replied.

  The only action he made all day was to move from the front of the boat to the rear, sitting down and scowling at the antics of Toby. Leopold quickly decided this was worse than before, for he felt the magician’s unwavering gaze upon his neck, and he looked over his shoulder often to be sure the man was not creeping up behind. This was Lord Samuel the Black—attributed with the stealing of babies, torturing the innocent and countless abhorrent deeds. It was surely not beyond him to cut Leopold’s throat and toss his body into the ocean.

  ‘Is that not a dangerous place?’ Leopold enquired.

  All his life the fishermen had told of the damned city of Cintar. It was the source of the Order—once-good citizens and soldiers turned into mindless, raving fiends. Winged and horned beasts accompanied them, summoned from some hell—or so it was said—and they tore people apart on sight, no interest in captives or plundering spoils. The Order left gold and coin in the mud where it fell, carrying what they could eat back to Cintar, and leaving the bodies of the fallen for
their beasts.

  At the heart of the city sat the malevolent woman known as the Witch Queen. Little was known of her, for none who saw her survived. She had appeared in those early days, taking advantage of the chaos of the Darkening, seizing the city and bending its people to her will.

  ‘It is,’ Samuel responded, ‘but we will not go there directly. I have friends in hiding nearby. We will meet them and prepare.’

  ‘You have friends?’ Leopold asked in disbelief.

  The magician looked to the sail with irritation, for the wind had chosen that moment to lose its vigour. The cloth flapped loudly as the boom lurched to and fro—as far as the slack in the lines would allow. The boat rocked and Leopold could not stabilise them until the wind stopped its churning.

  ‘Strangely, I do,’ confirmed Samuel.

  The breeze kicked up from the west. The sail cracked and the little boat jerked, setting ahead once more with vigour.

  ****

  They travelled in silence, with Leopold continuing them on their course. He had spent much of his life on the sea and could easily manage their vessel, although, it was not an elegant craft: larger and clumsier than the agile fishing boats he was accustomed to, and much too small to be making the sea crossing they were attempting. He grew nervous as they passed the tiny, familiar isles, one by one. They went beyond the last lonesome rock that stuck out from the sea, covered with mournful, huddled shags, their wings outstretched to dry.