The Ancient Ones

For Ben, Lisa and Jessie

With special thanks to:

The Red Family

John Paul Newbury

Ormé Harris

Luke Harris

THE LEGACY TRILOGY

The Young Magician

She Who Has No Name

The Ancient Ones

THE ANCIENT ONES

The Legacy Trilogy—Book Three

Michael Foster

This is a work of fiction.  All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.

THE ANCIENT ONES

1st Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Michael Foster

Except as permitted by the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this publication may in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other means be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or be broadcast or transmitted without the prior permission of the publisher.  All rights reserved.

Published 2011 by Dragonfall Press

www.dragonfallpress.com

Cover by Steven Schaffert

Additional cover design by Chameleon Print Design

ISBN: 978-0-9806341-2-9

Prologue

AS DUSK FELL, the gathering snowstorm rolled across the frozen hilltop fields.  Unfurling its pallid blanket, the weather descended, slowly obscuring the world.  The little town of Castlemount buckled down for the night, twinkling lights sprawled across the rise, boarded windows and bolted doors pitted against the weather.

Fields of snow encrusted the hill, withered trunks marking their edges; the green pastures of summer entombed beneath ice.  Dense, dappled forests, snuggled beneath frosty coats of winter’s making, spread across the undulating hills and disappearing into the enfolding frost.  A smooth, blanched scar broke the uneven grey-and-white of the trees: the river, frozen in its snaking path along the valleys.

Light spilled out from the inn at the centre of the town, crafting a golden glow upon the snow, and granting the place a cosy feel amidst the cold and inclement weather.  The wind howled and beat against its walls—perhaps enraged for that very reason—but the walls were sound and the wind remained firmly outside.  The gusts and gales carried the snow, piling it in the streets, making outside travel difficult; and that only served to intensify the fact that the warm haven of the inn was the sensible place to be.

The fire inside was large and the air warm.  Nearly everyone from the town was indeed sheltering inside, merry and comfortable with their cups and tankards in their hands.  The storm hammered and battered on the roof, calling in a terrible wail, while indoors was filled with cheers and laughter.  Loose things thumped and crashed and thudded in the street, unheard as mugs of ale and goblets of wine clinked and clanked together inside; assorted bells sprinkled amongst the chatter.

It was rare to have so many townsfolk coming together.  Despite the recent difficult times—or perhaps because of them—the gathering felt all the more heartened.  The worries of the world had been left outside in the snow where they belonged.

‘Oh, ’allo Pietrick!’ said the owner across his bar, greeting the fellow opposite him who was squeezing through the crowd.  The owner’s balding scalp glistened with sweat, for he was kept busy with the rush.  ‘I didn’t notice you come in.  How’re your travels then?’

Pietrick was a sturdy man, sensible and courageous, one of the few merchants left in the town who still dared venture south of the river.

‘That’s the last time for me, Omer,’ he replied forlornly.  He was perhaps the only one in the room who bore his woes across the doorstep, an uneasiness carried in the folds between his brows.  ‘I lost two boys this time.  The roads have grown too dangerous and there’s nothing in the south still worth the risk.’

‘Oh?’ Omer responded.  He was tempted to hold his questions, rather than ruin his merry mood, but news of the world was rare these days.  ‘Go on.’  He did not pause from his work behind the counter, cleaning cups with a cloth as he listened through the din.

‘I gave the news to Missus Marriot this morning as soon as I returned to town.  She was heartbroken.  Those boys of hers had their minds set on adventure and were keen to do their bit for the town.  Damn fool me for letting them try.  We met soldiers from the Order and were forced to flee for our lives.’

Ludon, Pietrick’s teamster, pushed his thick-bearded face in to add his piece.  ‘The accursed Order have spread from Cintar like a plague, far worse than the Darkening.  They steal and kill indiscriminately—without reason, like animals.  We were lucky to escape as we did.  There are rumours of worse things that prowl about with them, or so they told us as we passed through the ruins of Reve.’

‘Most of the cities are little more than ghost towns,’ Pietrick added.  ‘They say only a few Lords in the outer territories still maintain any order over their lands, but they are tiny patches of sanctuary amongst the chaos.  The cities have been laid waste or abandoned: ruined carcasses of what they were.  Bands of thieves wander the lands of Amandia and do as they please.  It won’t be long until trouble reaches us.  It’s only being up here in the highlands that has spared us until now, and that won’t last forever.  I just hope Earl Edgely is well prepared to defend us.’

Ludon sipped and nodded his agreement, dipping his beard into his mug with each draught.

Omer paused from his work and leaned closer to the pair; they did the same, sensing his secrecy.  The two merchants almost touched cheeks as he whispered to them.  ‘What about the Truth Seekers?’ he said.  ‘Any sign or word of them near here?’

Pietrick looked to his fellow with worry before replying.  ‘We didn’t see any, thank goodness, but I’ve heard they do visit Earl Edgely from time to time, just to remind him they are watching.  They say we have nothing to fear—as long as we’re not harbouring magicians.  No one here would be damn fool enough for that!’

‘Well, there were more strangers in town while you were gone, lurking about.  We told the Earl and he sent them packing, but I just don’t like the thought of such folk anywhere near here.  It’s going to be harder and harder turning them away if things continue the way they are.  They won’t turn back without a fight forever.’

‘I heard that Errol spoke to the Earl this afternoon,’ Ludon revealed.  ‘He knows what we face and he’s doing all he can.’

Omer looked relieved and leant back from the pair.  There was a clatter from the corner as someone slipped and knocked into a barmaid, sending her handfuls of crockery crashing to the floor.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Omer exclaimed and he stepped out from behind his bar to have a look at the mess.  A small circle appeared amongst the patrons as they retreated from the spill.  ‘Rufus!’ he cried.  ‘Get this cleaned up!’

From beside the bar, what resembled a pile of soiled rags gathered itself onto its feet, somehow transforming into a grimy old man.  He had thick, short, white hair on his head, running close to his brows; it was unkempt and uneven, as if cut with a shaky hand and a blunt knife.  Stubble covered his neck and face: pale mould on withered bark.  He crooked his head towards the balding man to listen.  His mouth hung open, lips gummy with dried saliva, eyes tightly shut.

‘Clean that mess,’ Omer repeated, but the old fool Rufus could never understand a word that was said to him.  ‘I don’t know why I bother!  Toby!’ he called towards the back.  A small, stringy boy of no more than six years came running from the store room.  ‘Get Rufus onto that mess,’ Omer commanded, shaking his finger at the floor.  The boy looked out and spotted the breakage.

He, too, was simple-minded, looking between Omer and the mess several times before understanding what was asked of him.  In response, he tapped Rufus on the shoulder and pointed to the spillage.

It sparked some recognition in the man, for old Rufus came to life and fumbled his hands beside him, picking up a bucket and some rags.  He trundled over to the mess, with the boy leading him by the cloth of his pants.  He sprawled himself on the floor and set to his task with vigour, plucking up the shards of the bowls and intermittently pressing his rags upon the spill to soak it up.  His fingers danced upon the broken pieces, working by feel, occasionally leaping into his mouth or shaken rapidly if they erred and grasped a sharp edge.

Omer was nodding his head, satisfied that the interruption to his pleasant evening would soon be resolved, when the front door burst open and the wind howled in, ending such thoughts abruptly.

The banter vanished.  Conversation fled.  Everyone in the room strained to see past each other as the sleet and snow flurried in.  When the door shut once more, standing in the entranceway, snow clinging to his boots and gathered around his feet, was a man in a black cloak.  He kept his clothes wrapped tightly about himself and he looked sinisterly out from the darkness sheltered in his hood.  In one arm he held a polished black box resembling a babe’s coffin, with symbols for each of the nine old gods etched upon its lid.

The crowd gasped and people scrambled to be away from him, pressing each other against the walls.  Even Omer dared not raise his voice and he slunk into the background, hoping not to be seen.

Toby was standing in the open, staring at the stranger with glee, until some brave soul darted forward and pulled him away.

Only Rufus, the fool, remained in the middle of the room, soaking up the spilled drink with his rag and picking up the remaining pieces of crockery, muttering to himself all the while.

The cloaked intruder observed the old man incredulously, before turning his attention to the crowd.  ‘I am Samuel—Saviour of Accursed Cintar, Champion of the Infernal Order and Last of the Damned Magician Lords.’

The crowd gasped with each title, edging further away from him, already crushed against each other as they were.

The magician drew the box from under his arm and held it forth, raising shrieks of fear from one and all.  ‘Though beasts and demons may now haunt the lands, none are as fiendish as I.  I turned all the north to ashes with one opening of my wicked box!’

The very mention of it made one woman scream and another fellow retch onto the floor at his feet.

‘Hold still, lest you befall my wrath!’ the newcomer bellowed to still the disorder, and he tucked the casket again beneath his arm.  Slowly, he pointed around the room with the black-gloved finger of his right hand.  People shook their heads desperately as his gaze passed over them, hoping to avert his wrath.  They clutched onto each other as tightly as they could, shivering with fear, whimpering.

‘Wh—what do you want?’ some daring member of the crowd ventured to ask.

The magician flung his pointed finger towards the nervous fellow and the crowd inhaled sharply.

‘I am on my endless malevolent quest—of which I will not speak further—but I require coins to see me on my way.  Give me your valuables; everything you have.  Come now, lest I open the box, just a crack, to sort you out.’  He only had to glance at the container tucked under his wing and coins began to fly.  ‘Not on the floor, dammit!’ he raged.  ‘Gather it into a bag and pass it to me!’

‘Yes!  Yes!’ they cried and one patron gladly passed his hefty purse around the room to be filled.

‘Lord Samuel,’ a brave soul spoke from out of view, summoning the magician’s attention.

The words were not hollered, yet carried above the ruckus, and the congregation fell quiet at their utterance.  They turned their heads as one towards the speaker, to see what foolish individual might raise his voice against the magician, but the man remained hidden behind their numbers.

‘Tell me,’ the speaker’s voice continued. ‘What exactly is in that abominable box you wield?  I am curious to know what terrors you keep within it.’

The hooded magician was enraged.  He took a forward step in attempt to see who would so affront him.  ‘Insolence!  How dare you question me?’

The crowd parted to be away from the speaker, and there, seated at a table in the corner, was another stranger, unnoticed until then.  He had an unremarkable face, with neat, short dark hair; no sign of beard or stubble upon his chin.  He could not be beyond his thirtieth year, dressed in a grey travelling cloak as if he, too, had recently come in out of the snow and had not yet had time to warm to the room and remove it.

Strangely, no one had given him any regard before that moment, sitting in the corner like a shadow, but someone had obviously served him.  He took another unhurried sip from his bowl of soup.  Gently, he set down his spoon.

‘I have no problem daring anything from you,’ he stated boldly.  ‘Everyone has heard much of the unspeakable evils you keep within your box, but I am intrigued to see which of these rumours are true, and I would hear the unspeakable spoken.  Come; show us an inkling of your power, so I can return to my soup with my curiosity appeased.’

‘Magic is forbidden!’ someone howled.

‘The Truth Seekers will come!’ hissed another.

‘That’s right,’ the hooded magician in the doorway agreed.  ‘Offend me any further and you will regret your brazen tongue.  You will … you will suffer beyond imagination!’

Some shook with fear at the threat, but others were fascinated by the daring of the seated stranger and waited eagerly to hear his response.

‘Go away, young fool,’ the seated man said, not bothering to turn his head from his meal. ‘Be gone before you get yourself hurt.  These folk will not look kindly upon your charade.  Everyone knows that Samuel speaks with the accent of a Turian, yet you have the country speech of a Greenhills farmer, not long off his farm, if I am not mistaken.’

‘Why you—!’ cried the magician, and he reached for his box once more to threaten them further.  In his rush he fumbled and the container crashed to the floor, cracking open.  Utter dismay flourished upon the cloaked fellow’s face.

Some shrieked and primed themselves to run; but they need not have worried, for it was a simple, empty box that lay shattered upon the floor.  There was nothing within it to cause them fear and slowly the realisation of such permeated through the room.

Old Rufus, still sitting on the floor and oblivious to everything, reached out and began gathering up those pieces of wood within reach, popping them into his bucket along with the broken dishes.

The magician’s expression turned from surprise to fear as the crowd regained their bravery.  He turned to flee, but had not reached the bulky door handle before some of the sturdier men rushed forward and took hold of him.  He wailed and struggled, revealed to be a mere whip of a man in a threadbare cloak, and they dragged him outside to an unknown fate.  The door shut firmly and his cries of protest vanished amongst the howls of the storm.

‘Who was that?’ someone asked, voicing the confusion in the room.

‘He was a southerner, no doubt,’ Pietrick the merchant explained aloud, ‘looking to cheat us out of our hard earned coins.  There’ll be more and more of his kind soon enough, and rougher, more desperate sorts than him, to be sure.  And they’ll come in groups, and armed.  Someone should tell Earl Edgely of this.’

It ignited quite a debate, with everyone arguing over who should see to the task.  Only Omer thought to approach the mysterious fellow still seated in the corner.

‘Thank you, stranger,’ he said to the man.  ‘I feel so foolish for being taken in by that vagabond.’

The seated gent looked up at him, but showed no change in his expression and did not utter a word.  His eyes did not blink; they seemed to look straight through him—or into him.

Omer cleared his throat and forged on nonetheless, somewhat uncomfortably.  ‘Ah, tell me, kind sir: how did you know it was not the real devil Lord Samuel, while the fellow had all of us so fooled?’

The man continued to gaze hypnotically at Omer as he spoke.  ‘Because there cannot be two of me in the world now, can there?’  With that, he pushed back his chair and stood.

The barman stepped back involuntarily as he spied the black cloth beneath the man’s greying, sun-bleached cloak.  He tried to say something, but could only stammer, and he remained frozen as the stranger stepped neatly past him to approach old Rufus.

The old fool was now lying almost with his cheek on the floor as he continued retrieving each and every tiny speck of broken crockery and scrap of wood, ignorant to the happenings around him.

The magician bent down and hoisted him to his feet.  He took off his great cloak and wrapped it around the confused old fellow, with the crowd only now noticing the jet black of his robes underneath.  Their heated argument dissolved mid-sentence and the agitated din once more crumbled into an ill-at-ease silence.

‘Salu, I have found you after all these years,’ said the magician to the old man, his voice now the only noise within the room, backed by the muted rumble of the storm outside.  ‘Come now, I have need of you.’  The old man had no idea, muttering and fidgeting, and it gave the magician reason to pause.  ‘Well?’ he prompted, but old Rufus continued stubbornly, rolling his head, mumbling incessantly with his eyes tightly shut.  The magician grabbed the man’s shirt front and nearly lifted him from the ground as he looked the old fellow full in the face.  ‘I have been searching for you for many years, Salu.  I need your help.  I know it is you.  Can you not hear me?’

Slowly, Rufus raised his face, but his eyes remained clenched slits.  ‘Darrig,’ he croaked—a word that held no meaning.  ‘Your son is here with us now.  Finally ... he is returned upon the world.’

‘I know,’ the magician responded.  ‘That is why I need you.  We must stop him.  Come with me, Salu.’

But the old man squirmed from Lord Samuel’s grip and lost his focus, returning his attention to the floor and muttering once again.  The magician was baffled.

A tugging at his robes gained his attention; the boy Toby was pulling on his hem.

‘What is this?’ the magician asked, looking to the barman for answers.  He noticed that the patrons in the room were again pressed against the walls to be as far from him as possible, feverishly attempting to remain unnoticed.

‘The half-blind old fool babbles occasionally, but doesn’t understand anything I say,’ Omer explained, being the unfortunate one Lord Samuel singled out for an answer.  ‘The boy can comprehend at times, but doesn’t talk.  He was taken by a fever as a babe and never awoke.  He was alive, but only just, swallowing whatever was put in his mouth, but doing precious little apart from that.  His parents died and he had only his aunt to take care of him.  Then, a few months ago he just stood up for the first time in his life and wandered over here.  I asked him, “Simon, what do you want?” and he corrected me, saying, “Toby”.  That reply is all I ever heard from him.  He has stayed here ever since.  His name was Simon but we call him Toby now.  It seems to get his attention.  His aunt says it’s a miracle, and she’s not about to question his lack of sense, considering how he was before.  He and Rufus get on well together.  If you want one, you may have to take the other.’

The magician scrutinised the both of them reluctantly, scowling.  ‘Very well.  Toby, tell him he is coming with me.’

The boy tugged on the old man’s clothes and pointed to Lord Samuel, laughing gleefully as he did so.

Old Rufus stopped his mumbling and raised his quivering chin.  ‘Ah,’ was his gasping response.  He nodded solemnly, as if in understanding.

Toby then clasped the old man by the wrist and led him shuffling towards the door, leaving Lord Samuel to draw up his hood and follow them.

Everyone there watched them depart into the blustery night—the magician, the fool and the mute—silent and in disbelief at the turn of unexpected events.  Omer shook his head; to think it commenced as one of the most enjoyable and unremarkable of nights, sheltered away from the cold.

Chapter One

Son of Thann

A BROWN-HAIRED MAN, barely into his seventeenth year, sat on a rock by the edge of the sea.  He scratched at the few, sparse whiskers on his chin and sighed, enveloped in complete mind-numbing boredom.

The waves lacked passion and ventured onto the beach timidly—creeping fingers of foam exploring the sand before scuttling back to safety.  Even they seemed tired of the island today.

He dragged his gaze along the horizon, pausing momentarily on the familiar specks of sail in the distance, naming their owners in his head one by one.  Not taking his eye from the scene, he pulled his hands over each other and scraped his net onto the shore.  Two gasping fish flapped about, trapped within the twine.  It took a moment to untangle them and drop them in the bucket at his side.

With the task complete, he sighed once again.

Everything on the island was wet or salty or smelled of fish, including him.  He was sick of it.  Throwing out his arms, he flung his net far, watching it spread in the air and drop back into the sea with rapid plops from its weighted edges.

‘Leopold!’ sounded a cry from behind, and he turned to see his mother tramping over the dunes, holding her skirt hems high out of the sand.  ‘Leopold, come home.  Dinner’s ready.’

Leopold sighed for the third time in as many minutes, for her voice conveyed her regard for him: still a boy.  His father thought the same and Leopold could not blame them; he had done little to prove them wrong.

His mother was a noble woman, beautiful and proud, her long dark hair carefully braided, falling down the centre of her back.  The local fishermen mentioned how well aged and beautiful she was.  She was more attractive than any of their wives and daughters, and more civilised, which accounted for their lingering stares.  He had nothing against the other families; it was not their fault they were ill-mannered and unkempt.  They displayed nothing of the decorum and proper behaviour his parents had instilled into him, but then again, what need did he have for such things out here?  What use were civilities to salt and fish?  What good were manners to the wind?

He barely remembered his life before coming to the island—a few flashes of objects, events and places impossibly far away.  Mother reminded him often they may one day go back to the mainland, and then all his lessons would be vital to him.  However, it was becoming ever more apparent that such a time would never arrive.

‘I’ll be a moment,’ he called back to his mother as he reeled in his net once more—just cast as it was—letting her turn back home without him.

He rolled up the dripping net, folding it over until it was a neat bundle, and tucked it into the top of the bucket.  It infuriated him, always getting knotted and tangled—far too much trouble—another of the dreary chores he was expected to complete.  He was a man with a mind and a destiny, but his parents kept him here, trapped on the island, a hermit with only a few other families on the entire god-forsaken rock.  He had tried to make his chores less bothersome; however, it only proved to cause more trouble.  He had once left his net on the beach to save him packing and unpacking it, but the gulls had flown down and entangled themselves in it, resulting in hours of work freeing them and unknotting the mess.  The birds had pecked and beaten him with their wings all the while.

Five small fish now squirmed beneath his net—five fish that would tomorrow be their breakfast—and he readied to return home.  Even the fish were disinterested on this tiresome afternoon.  Only five had made the effort of blundering into his net.  Why his parents insisted on such trivial tasks he would never know.  Father could wave his finger and have a hundred fish leaping from the sea and onto their dinner plates, but of course, Father never did.  He instead preferred to keep Leopold busy with endless mundane tasks.

Leopold had learned of his father’s power as a child, and even back then he would use his magic sparsely.  These days he used it even less.

Now he was grown, Leopold questioned his parents about magic and his father answered openly but curtly, making it clear that it was never to be discussed with others or where those outside their family could hear.  In that, Leopold had followed his father’s instructions precisely.  He had never divulged their secret to any of the fishermen or their families—seldom as they met.

Magic was a loathsome word to them.  The fishermen cursed magicians when the fish were not biting, when the wind was foul, or when their wives were champing at their heels.  They blamed magic and spells when their children were sick or when they suffered a splinter under their skin.  To everyone else in the world, magic was a curse.  Leopold considered it to be exciting—imagine the possibilities!—yet he was alone with that thought.

Father was undoubtedly a magician, and had been disappearing for days on end these recent months, never saying where he was going.  Mother and Leopold were left to fend for themselves, and Leopold was sure it was to do with magic.  What else could it be?

Father did not take a boat when he left—he slipped out the door and was gone, departing the island mysteriously.  Leopold often thought about following him out the door or spying upon him, but the thoughts left him quickly.  Father would know.  He always did.  He knew everything that happened within the confines of their tiny, windswept world.

As if hearing his thoughts, the wind gusted up, shifting about to blow in from the east.

If only there were something else to life, Leopold thought.  He longed for more than this unbearable island and the abominable schooling he tolerated from Mother.  He would escape at the first opportunity to investigate the lands beyond the horizon, where rumour told of great wrongs that needed righting, of unnatural beasts that required slaying, of dark armies that had risen against the common man, of many changes that had arrived spontaneously with a shadow in the sky.

Instead, Mother taught him things he would never have any reason to use—lectures of wars and battles that had happened long before he was born, lessons on keeping stock of goods and tally of taxes, on diplomacy and negotiation and tact.  What good would such things do him here?  He retold his lessons to the sand, and spoke his wisdom to the stones; but they were not interested, and remained steadfast and silent.

Finished with his thoughts, Leopold was about to turn for home, when something caught his attention—a strange red sail in the distance—and his senses became alive.  It had been weeks since he had spied such a visitor.  Whenever he did, Father appeared shortly after, knowing when such a wayward craft was near.  He would come and stand on the dunes, peering out into the ocean beneath his dark brows, sometimes waiting until the ship had passed, other times getting in one of their boats and going out to meet it.  More often than not he told his son to go home and lock the door, and Leopold did not get to see what followed.

On those rare occasions when Leopold was defiant and hid in the bushes nearby, he saw his father go out to meet the other craft.  The crew usually turned around once he neared, headed back to wherever they had come from.  Once, a long rowing ship had disappeared as Father met it, swallowed by the sea.  Upon his return he refused to speak of it, scolding Leopold instead for disobedience.

This time, however, Father did not appear.  Leopold waited and watched the vessel as it slowly approached, hoping to see what kind of people it would bring.  He dropped his bucket and stood high on his rock jutting from the sand, peering out into the distance with the briny wind in his eyes.

He was sure he had never seen it before—a small square sail, red as Autumn sunset.  He waited, anxious and excited as the squarish and awkward looking craft drew nigh, elated to note that rather than pass them by, the tiny boat was heading directly towards him.

Soon, the vessel was near enough to glimpse its occupants.  A man stood beside the mast in the middle of the boat.  He wore a black cloak, the hood pulled up around his head to shield him from the weather.  Someone else sat huddled beside him, and it was only as the vessel hissed onto the sand that Leopold realised it was an old man, miserable and desperate to keep out of the wind and spray.  His hands rested upon a long box of midnight black that took up the front half of the boat, holding it to steady himself, rather than from any fear of letting it fall out.  It looked a hefty thing.

With the bow of the craft resting upon the sand, the black-clothed man stepped over the box and alighted at the prow, wetting his boots and the hem of his cloak.  The older, white haired fellow scrambled to follow.  He leapt directly over the side halfway along the boat, not realising it was much deeper, and he disappeared up to his middle.  Much muttering and cursing followed as he struggled to shore.

A boy also bound from the vessel, springing from where he was sitting unseen.  He landed with a splash of his bare feet and skipped ashore before he was barely wet, stamping his feet in the shallow water, looking very pleased with the sensation indeed.

The first fellow strode directly up to Leopold, his face partially hidden in the shadows of his hood.  Only his mirthless mouth and chin were visible.

‘Where is your father, Leopold?’ he asked.

Leopold was astounded.  ‘How do you know who I am?’

The old man shambled onto the soft sand.  He was in a simple set of trousers and a worn, lace-up shirt.  He cocked his head to one side, his ear aimed into the wind, as if funnelling it into his head to gather its secrets.  A long straight stick that had washed ashore with the morning tide lay at his feet, and the old fellow bent and picked it up.  His hands wandered over every bump and contour until he smiled, satisfied with his find.  He then roamed about, poking the sand with his newfound prize, leaning upon it to aid his movement.  From his behaviour, Leopold had the feeling the man was blind or frail or both.  Certainly, he was strange, muttering away in a constant hoarse whisper.

The young boy had finished with his splashing and ran, diving headfirst into the dry sand higher up the beach.  He rolled about, smothering himself with the powdery grit and laughing hysterically.  It was bizarre behaviour, even for such a small child, and Leopold wondered who this strange trio could possibly be.

The cloaked fellow had waited unperturbed while Leopold gawked at his companions.  Remembering him, Leopold dragged his eyes from the other two to see what the cloaked visitor wanted.

As Leopold stood there, peering into the shadow of his hood, the stranger spoke.

‘I know who you are, Leopold.  You are the son of Edmond Calais.  Your mother is Lillith Trallevan.  I know them well.  I have not seen you since you were a tot, but I have come now to meet your father and discuss important deeds that need his attention.’

Leopold decided he had not been so wise to let this person land upon the island, and he should creep away and inform his father.  ‘What you say is nonsense,’ he told the newcomer, for although he knew his own surname, his mother and father had told him strictly never to mention it.  They always introduced themselves as ‘the Greens’, never revealing the truth—although why they kept it secret was unknown to him.  ‘Go away from here!’

The hooded one did not smile or frown—he did not show any emotion, shadowed inside his cowl.

Yet, as intimidating as the man might be, Leopold could not stop himself from being distracted by the boy, on his knees, shoving sand into his mouth, coughing and spluttering it out again.  He waved his sandy tongue about vigorously and grasped at it with his fingers, giggling with glee.

‘They were right not to tell you any of this, Leopold,’ the man continued.  ‘Still, I will speak with your father momentarily.’

Leopold was torn between his desire to discover more about this mysterious stranger and his impulse to run.  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I am the saviour of this world, or its destroyer,’ the man said, as if that was a reasonable answer.

‘Which is it?’ Leopold asked, annoyed at such a nonsensical response.

‘That has yet to be seen,’ came the reply.

A sudden roar of wind at his back made Leopold instinctively duck, and a dark shape flew overhead.  The four upon the beach followed its path as it passed out over the ocean, roaring like thunder.  The flickering streak circled around and shot back towards the shore, sending up spray on either side as it licked along the sea.  Leopold had never seen anything like it and he gawked at it, astounded.

A person could be seen at its core, covered in shimmering vapour and spawning a glimmering trail of air behind.  He did not slow and collided into the beach, sending up a shower of sand that had Leopold ducking once again and shielding his face.  When the heavy powder had fallen back to earth, standing there was his father.

‘How dare you come to my home uninvited, Magician!’ he bellowed, striding towards the stranger furiously.  ‘Leopold!  Step away.’

Leopold did as told, retreating hurriedly from the cloaked man.  The magical air had vanished from around his father, but the sand was dancing at his feet, excited by an unseen force.  He knew his father was capable of extraordinary things—lighting the stove fire with a gesture, calling the goats with a whisper—but he never imagined this.  He can fly?

‘I will give you one chance to leave,’ his father continued, standing his ground and pointing his finger at the black-clothed newcomer.  ‘Never return.  Never speak of me or my family.  Never come here again.’

The other stood silent, unmoving.  His posture lacked any trace of fear or apprehension.  Indeed, the man did nothing at all except wait.

In that moment of expectation, Leopold’s father noticed the old fellow wandering the beach and it was his father who—for an instant—looked fearful.

‘Why have you brought him here?’ he asked, breaking the tension.  ‘If you are hoping to kill me, Magician, you will be bitterly disappointed.  I am not the same man that I was.  You know that already.’

‘I am looking for my son,’ the cloaked visitor replied.

‘I told you what would happen.  You should have left with his mother when you had the chance.  I am sorry about what happened, but that does not change anything.  Coming here will cause no good.  We do not want you here.  Leave us be!’

‘Did you hear that, Salu?’ the stranger called to the old man.  ‘How strange it is to be scolded by a devil.  The master’s servant wants nothing of our company.’

The old man glanced between the two speakers, his eyes restrained to narrow cracks as if to keep the sand from blowing into them, before returning to his wandering.

‘Who are you to call me a devil?’ Leopold’s father asked accusingly.  ‘I have turned my back on the past, while you are obsessed with it.’

‘But your past has not turned its back on you, Edmond.  You cannot hide here forever.  The world will find you eventually; probably very soon.  Fifteen years I have scoured the earth and all I have to show for my efforts is this lunatic, plus the idiot boy that accompanies him.  I avoided coming here for as long as I could.  Would you not take us in and see what I have to say?’

Leopold’s father balled his fists with rage, and Leopold had no time to register what happened next.  His father and the cloaked magician disappeared, launching upwards simultaneously, trailing wind and sand, flying over the sea amidst ribbons of twisting fire.  Light flashed between them and the sound of thunder followed.  The shimmering tails filled with water as clouds of spray were sucked up from the sea and followed the men, growing longer by the moment.

Leopold ran to the edge of the ocean to see, while the old man faced them with his mouth dangling open.  The boy contentedly ignored it all, mounding up the sand into castles beside the old man, setting shells upon the walls and cheering at his efforts.

‘Leopold!’ came a cry as his mother ran down beside him.  ‘Are you all right?’  She cupped her hands to his cheeks to ensure he was not harmed.  When she was sure he was safe, she looked towards the sea with worry.

‘What’s happening?’ Leopold asked her.

The woman shook her head.  ‘Your father raced outside.’  She looked to the old man with curiosity, and then back to the ocean, as two great watery streams snaked in the sky, slapping together with violent clashes that battered and churned the sea.  The noise of their battle was rolling thunder across the waves.  ‘Who is out there with him?’

‘I don’t know.  A magician.’

The ocean became muddled and turbulent as the violence rendered above it took effect; the wind blew from all directions at once.  Waves arrived larger and angrier, full of foam and angst, heaving higher and heavier upon the sand.  The few boats in the distance raced quickly away.

Leopold and his mother ducked down as, without warning, the two men flashed over their heads with a roar of wind, showering them with sea spray and sand.  The air blasted and blinded, and when they opened their eyes, they could see tendrils of powder spiralling up from the dunes, transforming the stream of water that surrounded the men from clear to solid white.  Barely visible at the forefront of one serpentine length was his father and in the other, the black outline of the magician.

Leopold lowered his gaze to find his mother gone from his side.  He followed after her to ensure she was safe.

‘Who are you?’ she was asking the old man with the stick in his hand.

The fellow was startled from his observing the battle, but reached over and took her hands into his withered palms.  He stroked her skin with gentle, caressing movements, as if holding a sleeping kitten.  ‘Beautiful woman,’ he said, gazing at her fingers.

‘I beg your pardon?’

The fellow turned his wrinkled face to hers, his eyes tightly shut.  His lips quivered, while he took part in a colossal struggle to gather his scattered wits.  ‘Apologies, My Lady,’ he said.  His lips slightly apart, but the effort seemed too much.  Defeated, he dropped her hand and returned his attention towards the sea.

Leopold followed the battle, frustrated and feeling useless, as his father jousted in mid-air with the magician.  It infuriated him that he could not help.  Then an idea came to mind.  Perhaps there was something he could do.  He raced away and over the dunes, ignoring the cries of his mother calling after him.

The path to their house wound from the shore.  He was panting and breathless when he passed the trees between the hills and burst into their home; fire roaring bright and warm in its hearth.  He ran straight into his parent’s room and to his father’s chest beside their bed.

He opened the chest and threw everything onto the floor, digging to the bottom until he found what he sought: a tiny wooden box, a varnished and decorated thing that fit in the palm of his hand.  He had discovered it as a boy and, unfathomably, when his father had caught him looking at it, instead of chastising him, the man drew out a small, silver key from his pocket, unlocked the box, and showed him the wondrous object inside before again locking it safely away.

Leopold had no time for keys and threw the container down.  He stomped upon it ferociously with the heel of his foot until it cracked apart.  Dropping to his knees, he tore the lid from its twisted hinges and leapt upon the glittering object that rolled out, burying it deep within his fist to keep it safe.

He hurried from the house and back to the beach, feeling the rattling booms that rolled in from the sea as his father and the magician waged their battle, nervous with the knowledge that what he carried could save them all.

His mother was standing beside the old man on the sand, watching the sky, horrified.  As Leopold came to her side, one of the snaking tendrils of magic that curled above the sea pulled away from the other and turned back towards the shore.  The other pursued it, close behind.  The foremost stream, black at its core, headed towards them and carved a path across the wave tops, splitting the ocean in two.  The second stream followed closely, and before they made landfall, it arched up, and with a sudden burst of speed, crashed into the first with a chaotic flash and thunderous noise.

Leopold and his mother covered their ears as the black-cloaked magician smashed to the ground like a stone fallen from heaven, his dark robes whipping around, disappearing in a shower of sand as his impact shook the ground.

The other stream of magic faltered.  Its tail was reduced to almost nothing, and it circled back towards the sea to collect further mass.  Perhaps his father’s decision had been rash, for it left them alone and defenceless with the magician, but Leopold knew what to do.

He ran towards the fallen stranger as the fellow was shaking his head and struggling to climb from the bottom of the impression he had made with his landing.

Leopold stood above him, readying the magical relic in his hand.  ‘I won’t let you hurt my father!’ he cried as he shoved the silver ring upon his finger and pointed towards the stranger.

He had expected something marvellous—wild magic to burst forth and smite the man—but nothing happened at all; only the magician pointed his finger to Leopold in return.  Palm up, he made a beckoning motion, slowly waggling his finger.

‘No, Leopold!’ came a cry and his father vaulted down from the sky to land beside him, leaving his magical tail to continue and dissipate, a spatter of salty rain across the dunes.

He was too late, for the ring turned to liquid around Leopold’s finger and flew away.  Fluid streamed through the air directly into the magician, disappearing beneath the cloth of his robes, absorbed into his skin.

With that, the man was rejuvenated.  He stood straight and strong, and stepped brazenly from his sandy crater, returned to full strength.

‘Stop this!’ Leopold’s father commanded, standing between them.

Fatigue was evident through the cracks in his brave facade.  Leopold had never seen his father weary, yet now the man looked exhausted, trembling upon his legs to stay upright.

The magician pulled back his hood to speak.  His face was not youthful, yet set before his middle years.  Deepening wrinkles crowded upon his brow and crept from the edges of his eyes.  He looked morose and incapable of humour.  ‘You have certainly aged gracefully, My Lady,’ he said, turning to Leopold’s mother.  ‘You have caught up to your husband somewhat in years, while he has not aged a day since I last saw him.’

Mother put her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows, unsure of what he was suggesting.

The magician then returned his attention to Leopold.  ‘And Leopold certainly takes after his father in nature, if not in appearance.  Does he know?’

‘Hold your tongue!’ Leopold’s father commanded, incensed.

‘Don’t worry, Thann,’ he said.  ‘I’m not going to harm you or your boy.  Let us go somewhere warm to talk.  I need your advice.’

‘Damn you, Samuel.  I told you to leave me be.  I want nothing to do with you or your vendetta against the world.’

‘My feud is not with the world.  I want what you want—to protect my son.’

‘To protect your son is to damn the world.  It is not possible to save both and you know it.  I want no part of your schemes.’

‘You have little choice in the matter,’ the magician replied, taking his time to look along the shoreline, watching the disturbed waves tumbling upon the sand.  ‘We have both changed since we last met.  You are more powerful than I remember.’

‘You have seen no measure of my strength, Magician.  I hold myself back lest I risk destroying this isle and my family with it.’

‘And I would say the same.’

‘But there is a difference between us, Samuel.  You have grown stronger, but not all the power you wield is your own.  Your presence is rank with the magic of the dark ones.’

‘I do what I must, Edmond, as we all do.’  The magician turned up one side of his lip, as part of his face momentarily attempted to smile.  ‘Come, I have missed the company of you and your wife all these years.  I would speak with you both in a more comfortable setting.’

His father had no choice but to agree.  ‘Very well, Samuel, but I cannot say the same thing in return.  You seem to have none of the charm of the brave youth I remember.’

‘How true,’ the magician said, waiting to be shown the way.

****

Their home, sheltered away from the brackish wind, was modest and comfortable.  The magician called Samuel sat at the end of the table, while Leopold, his mother and father sat at the other facing the man like combatants across a field of war.  There were enough chairs, but the magician’s companions happily sprawled on the floor, with the old man slapping the boy’s hand each time he neared the stove or stuck his fingers into the fire.

‘So, tell me, why you have come?’ Leopold’s father asked at last.

‘I’ve come to you for help, because no one else can help me.’

‘And what of these two?  Why have you brought them?  An idiot child and the witless brother of Janus Anthem?’

‘I thought Salu would shed some light on my worries, but he is rarely lucid.  Even then, he does not seem to care enough to offer his advice.  I hope he may one day divulge his wisdom, but I am not holding my breath.  The boy communicates with him and I am thankful for that, and the old man keeps the boy from harm.  Between the two of them, they get themselves fed and dressed, but not much more than that.  Still, Salu is perhaps history’s greatest magician, so I put up with them both despite their failings.’

‘So you drag them along with you to see if they can be of some use, until they meet some terrible end by your side?’

The magician nodded.  ‘Yes.  If that is what is required.’

‘I cannot fathom what has turned your heart to stone, Samuel,’ Leopold’s mother said, shaking her head.  ‘I once had such faith in you, like no other.  I remember the time you saved us, when you pulled my boy from the jaws of that Paatin beast.  You were my champion; now I shudder every time I hear the stories of what you have done.’

Leopold had no understanding of what she spoke, but she looked tearful at the thought of it.

Samuel turned his chin towards her.  ‘I cannot feel sorry for what I have become, good Lady.  I must admit I have engrossed myself in my task, and the search for my son has no doubt affected me.  After the loss of his mother and the Darkening falling upon us, the magicians’ change came upon me, and all love was drained from my heart.  I cannot fathom what purpose it is supposed to serve, and only sorrow is left to keep me company.’

‘The Change is not a natural thing, Samuel,’ Leopold’s father revealed.  ‘It was imposed to keep magicians sedate, to keep them focussed on their task of aiding mankind.’

‘Then perhaps that is also something I can address.’

‘And is that all you have accomplished all these years, searching for your child without result?  Finding these two instead?’

The magician answered with indifference.  ‘I went hunting for Lomar and his master Poltamir.  Eventually, I found them.’

‘And what happened?’ Leopold’s father asked with interest.

‘They were too powerful for me.  We battled for three days before I learned they were merely playing games, toying with me for their own entertainment.  They have my son, trapped inside an infernal box that keeps him from ever awakening.  I almost had my hands on it—at least, that is what I thought at the time.  Thankfully, during those moments I did have the chance to study it and memorise its workings.  They cannot destroy him, but neither can he ever escape while the lid remains firm.’

‘Then that is why Lin has not yet shown his head,’ Leopold’s father said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully, ‘and perhaps why his influence over me has waned.  They have him trapped.  But surely they cannot hold him indefinitely?’

‘So far, it seems they have, but I cannot tell if they have yet benefitted from doing so—except to prolong their own existence.’

‘The pool of magic grows,’ Leopold’s father stated.  ‘I feel it.  Every life lost is power freed upon the world, and without Lin free to possess it, it remains unclaimed.’

‘Perhaps Poltamir is seeking to harness this power?’ the magician suggested.

‘Then I wish him good luck.  If that box can hold Lin, so be it.  Why do you continue to harry them and risk letting the Demon Lord out?  Is it not enough that your son is alive?  He would not suffer in their enchanted box; he would only sleep, unknowing and unfeeling of anything around him.’

‘I do not think a world ruled by Poltamir would be of benefit to anyone.  He and Rei are doing quite a good job of being devils in their master’s stead.  Instead of rebuilding the world after the Darkening, they continued its destruction.  All I have done was for a purpose.  Those two are simply evil, overcome with malice.  Rei has filled Amandia with terror and I am sure Poltamir is doing the same.  I feel him on the far side of the world, growing stronger every day.  I find it very intriguing.  He makes no attempts to hide his presence, yet Lomar—his underling—has taken to ground, perhaps fearing my wrath.  Added to that, more hellish beasts are released upon the earth every day.  Poltamir and Rei both are doing their best to rid the world of mankind.’

‘Amandia would not be in such a state if you had not unleashed the Darkening upon it,’ Leopold’s father told the magician sternly.  ‘Garteny was wiped from existence in a flash and the winter that followed caused countless souls to starve or fall prey to disease.  Smaller stones caused havoc across the world.  Whether you meant it or not, your deeds have cost the world more lives than Rei and Poltamir together.’

‘Starfall was not my doing.  In fact, if not for me, it would have been far worse; you would not be standing here now.  True, being immortal you would inhabit another body in another land, but your wife and son are not so gifted.  They would have perished.  I saved the continent of Amandia from total annihilation, so the current situation is not so bad—in comparison.’

‘But your motive was entirely self-serving, Samuel,’ Leopold’s father asserted.  ‘I am sure you were not considering anyone else at the time.  You have little regard for anything beyond your own personal desires.’

‘I would do anything to save my son, as would you, Thann.  Do not think we are so different.’

‘I would say that our acts have defined us as being very different, Samuel—and call me Edmond.  I have grown accustomed to that name, as has my family, and I need no more reminders about who I once was.  You and I are different, Samuel, despite what you may think.  Your love for your son is just a distant memory.  You are enacting what you think you should do, rather than what you feel.  The Change has burned all emotion from your soul, while my feelings were never taken from me—and I thank my blessings every day for that.  No, you are more similar to Rei and Poltamir than I, for all three of you continue to behave like devils.  And common folk across the land curse your name more than the other two combined.’

Samuel nodded gravely.  ‘It is true; I have not made many friends with my methods.  But I do not need to feel love to know it is there, buried deep within me, just as your servitude for Lin is lurking beneath your skin, ready for when he calls.’

Leopold’s father smiled knowingly.  ‘Well said; perhaps it is true.  Even out here on this tiny rock I have heard tales of you, Samuel.  Your reputation tells of a monster, and in meeting you, I can see why.  Your magic has hardened your heart, and you are rife with evil.  We servants of Lin would not dare commit such a sin, lest it pervert our souls.  You flirt with extreme danger.’

‘I know that now, but the damage is done.  It is too late to expel the evil spirits from my essence.  An inkling of their dark presence has been within me since childhood and their power has grown alongside my own.  I have forsaken any hope of freedom from their hold, and have summoned more of their kind to join them.’

‘More?’ Edmond said with disbelief.  ‘Why would you do that?’

‘I have grown adept at containing them.  And I use their strength when I must—in limited amounts.  It has saved me many times already.  I no longer have the power I once did; it disappeared with the birth of my son.  My houseguests offer me their dark flavour of magic, in hope to overcome me, and in turn I live to continue my quest.  Thus far, this mutual understanding has benefitted us both, and they have not succeeded in winning me over—not yet.’

‘That can never happen, Samuel,’ Edmond stated worriedly.

‘That’s right.  If my darkness succeeds in overcoming me I would become the same evil I seek to destroy.  Each time I falter their hold on me increases.  I nearly succumbed to them whilst fighting with Rei, but narrowly prevailed.  I challenged her long ago when she first came to power in Cintar, but she was too strong for me.  She has a cunning defence that I cannot counter with brute strength alone.’

Edmond nodded.  ‘Then I know now why you have come, Samuel.  You need more power—untainted power.  You absorbed the ring and I feel many other such relics within you, yet it is still not enough to defeat Rei.  You need my strength for when you next face her—and presumably Poltamir would be next.’

The magician waited silently for Leopold’s father to go on.  He did not, and it was Samuel who was forced to speak up.  ‘So what will you do?’

Edmond’s eyes passed from the worried visage of his wife, to the unsure face of his son; he regarded the magician squarely.  ‘I will help you, but you must make me a promise—a solemn oath.’

Now it was the magician’s turn to draw out the silence.  He did not nod or make any indication he understood or agreed.  He waited for Edmond to divulge his demands.

‘The Ancient Ones must be purged from the world,’ Edmond insisted.

‘Of course.  Your offer is one step towards that.’

Edmond accepted the response levelly.  ‘And one other; you must take Leopold with you.’  The youth jumped out of his seat to protest, but his father’s patient voice and placating gestures had him settling back into his seat.  ‘You’re right, Samuel.  Trouble will find these isles.  Rei’s Order or the malevolent Truthseekers will eventually discover us.  I have done my best to fend off her men and her beasts until now.  Recently they have been coming this way in greater numbers.  Leopold is my son, and that alone will attract them or others of their ilk.  Rei’s thirst for revenge upon me is only second to what she feels for you, Samuel.  She blames you for everything—for turning me against her, even though it was my choosing.  You are right.  I cannot stay here any longer, hoping for trouble to pass by.  I will grant you the strength you need.  I will help you and you will keep Leopold safe by your side, until either you find victory, or the world is ended.’

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 could 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.

The water here was alien to him.  It felt cold, deep and dangerous.  He imagined gigantic sinewy leviathans intertwining in its depths and wished he could turn back.  Whenever he looked towards home, he found the magician, his black cloak fluttering in the wind, sternly blocking his view.

Toby played about the boat while Salu ignored everything around them, muttering impatiently with their voyage.  The old man did not respond when Leopold called to him.  It was a strange assemblage, worsened by the knot of sadness in his chest.

His father had been killed by this accursed magician and he had been sent to accompany him against his will.  His mother had told him not to return until the magician’s quest was fulfilled, which caused him more angst.  It was only his mother’s adamant instruction that kept Leopold from leaping overboard in those initial hours.  He had considered swimming back home, but every time the thought occurred to him, he felt the magician’s gaze boring through the back of his head.  Daring to turn and see, the man was glaring at him.  Under that gaze, Leopold remained firm in his seat.

His spirits raised as he mused upon the idea of killing the magician and returning home with the boat.  That was easier than swimming away, for he had been relishing the idea of murdering Samuel since first grabbing his mother’s knife.  He would not mind taking the old man and the boy with him.  They seemed harmless and they would surely rather avoid the accursed mainland.

Yes, that was it.  He would lie to his mother and tell her everything had gone well and the mission—whatever it entailed—had been accomplished.  Leopold smiled, deciding to have his revenge at the first opportunity—as soon as he figured out how.

At that very moment the magician spoke, interrupting Leopold from his dark thoughts and wiping the grin from his lips.

‘The water is calm, boy, but your stormy mood could sink this little boat.  I hope the outlook changes before we are sent to the bottom of the sea.  We have much to do before this is over, so you are set for a miserable time if you keep this up.’

Leopold would not answer the man.  He spiralled deeper into morbid thought.  His smile did not return, and he continued his plotting.

They skipped across the waves.  Leopold fell further into his dark mood, wishing that a storm should sink them, so the magician would get what he deserved.  However, the sky remained calm.  The wind stayed brisk at their back and the sea smooth until well into the afternoon, when the long dark line of the Amandian coast came within sight.  Leopold cursed his bad luck and thought of other ways to have his revenge, scanning the waters for any jagged rocks he could run them upon.

‘South,’ the voice of the magician called and with a sigh Leopold adjusted the ropes to follow the shoreline.

He brought them perpendicular to land, but their simple rigging was only efficient when going with the wind and they lost speed immediately.  Within moments—rather too quickly for Leopold’s liking—the breeze shifted around to blow at their backs once more.  The ocean jiggled and bobbed in response to the change, and Leopold steered their vessel across the unsettled wave tops.

In sight of land, the magician relaxed and moved about the boat, checking the sky above or the horizon around them, and inspecting his black casket.

Leopold gestured towards the coffin lid.  ‘What does it say?’

‘Meaningless words in Old Turian script.  Powerless things,’ the magician explained with disdain.  ‘Before the last emperor unified the nations in decades of bloody war, they had nine gods between them.  The Emperor almost stamped them out, but some folk remember their names and many still call to them in times of need.  Old faith can be remarkably hard to extinguish.’

‘So why did you put them there?’

The magician smirked.  ‘Rumour goes that I have these words on my box, so I inscribed them there so as not to disappoint.  I have a reputation to live up to.’

‘I’m sure it has some power or purpose,’ Leopold stated confidently.  ‘Even on our island we heard of your coffin.  There is no greater insult than wishing for the Box of Samuel to wash up on another man’s shore.  It is a vile thing, capable of stealing souls and releasing demons.  To lay eyes on it is to be cursed.’

‘Again, purely rumour.  The one time I saw my son’s captors, they had him in a box like this, although much smaller to accommodate a babe.  I could not save him, but I memorised the spells around his prison.  It took many years, but I crafted this casket in its likeness, only larger to accommodate a grown man.’

‘Why did it take so long?’

‘Great things take time, as you will learn, young Leopold.  Patience is something you have yet to discover.’

The magician settled into silence.  When he did next break the quiet, it almost scared Leopold from his skin.

‘I know it is no consolation, but your father was very proud of you.’  He faced Leopold on one of the benches that ran across the breadth of the vessel.

Leopold looked contemptuously at the magician in return.  The affront deserved no response.

‘You meant more to him than anything,’ the magician continued.  ‘He gave his life to give you a chance.  It was a great and selfless thing.’

Leopold glared at the soulless man, then turned his head towards the open horizon of the west.

‘He was a great man and he chose wisely.  Anyone else would have fought me until the end.  He expected me, expected this, and he gave himself—purely for the sake of you and your mother.’

Leopold could hold his silence no more, incensed.  ‘What would you know of him?’ he spat, furious that the one who had killed his father mere hours before should attempt to justify the act.

The magician did not flinch or change his expression.  ‘I knew him well.  He renounced his master of millennia and gave up immortality for you.  He was a great warlord and proud man, resigned to squatting on that pathetic rock in the hope that it would keep you safe.  It worked for a time, but he knew that refuge would not hide you forever.  If any father loved his son, it was he.’

‘And you murdered him.’  The words scraped Leopold’s throat; his muscles tightened with rage.

‘Understand, boy, that your concept of death is skewed.  Your father’s life exists in me.  He was a great magician, and he passed his strength on to me.  While I live, he lives inside of me.  He has not gone.’

Leopold was indignant.  ‘Then when can I see him?  When can I hug him?  When will I next hear his laughter?  Your words are useless, Magician.  Please!  Do not try to comfort me.’

The magician glanced aside for a moment—a small victory for Leopold.  ‘I get your point, boy,’ he said.  ‘It is true; nothing will be the same ... change is inevitable.  Everyone has lost someone close and harder times yet lie ahead.  I promised your mother and father I would protect you and I will.  I assure you, I am not as monstrous as I seem, or as the rumours say.’  The magician caught a scent on the wind, for at that moment he looked to the coast.  ‘Set us further to sea.  We must go around a headland soon.  There are shoals to our left.’

Leopold did as told and moved the tiller, freeing the long pole that extended to the back of the boat, locking it back into place once the rudder had been adjusted.  He swiftly tightened the sail to match.  His hands moved expertly and neatly, quicker than most of the experienced sailors he had witnessed, and he rarely made mistakes.

‘How did you cope before me, Magician?’ he asked soberly.  ‘This boat must have sailed itself.’

Samuel’s eyes flickered towards him.  ‘We managed,’ he said.  ‘And, boy, call me Lord Samuel.  I am the last Magician Lord in the land and the title demands respect.’

‘Then you should stop calling me boy,’ Leopold responded bluntly.  ‘My name is Leopold.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ was the magician’s reply.  ‘Very well.  If we are to remain civil to each other, let us make a binding agreement to keep us in good stead.  From this point, I shall call you Leopold—nothing else—and you in turn will call me Lord Samuel.  Your father asked me to protect you, and for you to do as I say.  We shall both respect his wishes until such time as our bond is ended.’

‘Done!’ Leopold said promptly.  He was tired of being harassed and was glad to seal the matter.

‘Think well on it, Leopold.  A promise to me is not broken easily and should not be made impulsively.  Are you sure—’

‘I’m sure, I’m sure,’ Leopold replied impatiently.

The magician smiled at him—a cunning, knowing smile that had Leopold already questioning his decision.

‘Then so be it,’ Lord Samuel agreed.  ‘The bond is sealed.’

‘I have heard your name many times,’ Leopold admitted after a while, and the magician, who had passed into deep thought, raised his chin.  ‘Lord Samuel, Spawn of Cintar; Lord Samuel, Champion of the Infernal Order; Lord Samuel, last of the Damned Magician Lords.  The people near my home would scare their children with stories of you.  You claim to be saving the world, yet your reputation tells a very different story.  Do you not realise that the word magician is shameful and terrifying?’

Lord Samuel was unfazed.  ‘People will always talk and bend the truth to their liking.  That witch in Cintar has orchestrated much of that—touting me as her servant.  Magicians were in fact welcomed by many and I did have titles once, similar to those you mentioned, when the world was different—before Starfall cracked the world’s mantle, before ash rained and choked the lands.  In truth however, I was never fond of being called a Lord; but in your case I will make an exception.  It may serve to teach you respect.

‘Even Cintar now inspires fear, when it was once a bastion of civilisation, nothing like the scourge of evil it has become.  The Turian Emperor brought about great changes—highways and bridges and structured governance.  His organised administration advanced civilisation in numerous ways.  He was a tyrant but, as I hope you will come to understand, even such tyrants have the capacity for good inside.

‘The Order of Magicians was a symbol of logic and benevolence—for the most part—comprised of magicians who sought reason and well-being for all.  Rei the Witch Queen of Cintar has renamed her armies after the Order to spite all our good work.  We sought peace and happiness for all of Amandia and the word magician did not give children nightmares as you suggest it does now.  I may be last of the Lords of the true Order, but I am not the beast I am made out to be.  Fear of the Truthseekers has turned any whisper of magic or magicians into a dangerous thing.’

‘I do not believe you.  Many of the old folk remember long before the Darkening, and they say magicians were always scorned.’

‘By some, yes, we were not overly welcomed; nevertheless, unless you are blind and stupid or both, Leopold, I am sure you know your father was a magician, too.’

‘He was nothing like you,’ Leopold stated assuredly, unwilling to be goaded into losing his temper.

‘That does not change the truth.  Before the Truthseekers, magicians were common across Turia and much of Amandia.  Many survived the Darkening and took refuge wherever they could.  They prevailed against the Black Order, but the coming of the Truthseekers marked the beginning of their end.’

‘You speak as if the Truthseekers and the Order are two separate things.’

‘They are.  The Truthseekers do not serve Rei.  They are mere people—people who decided to rid the world of magicians.  They are what remains of the Circle of Eyes, a group of thieves and assassins that once ruled the world from the shadows.  After the Darkening, they realised they had been misled and now work to cleanse the world of magic, if that is at all possible.’

‘Then why do people fear them?’

‘Because they are ruthless and will stop at nothing.  People once hid and defended the magicians, but the Truthseekers burned them out.  There may still be a few magicians hiding in Amandia or other parts of the world, and new magicians are born every day, but people have learned to fear magic.  I have heard of mothers throwing their children into the snow at the first sign of talent.’

‘That is terrible,’ Leopold declared.

‘It is,’ Samuel agreed, ‘but it is a reality.  If they do not, the Truthseekers will come to perform their sworn duty.’

‘You side with the Truthseekers?’ Leopold asked with repulsion.

‘I understand them.  Magic no longer has a place in this world.  It attracts devils.  I, too, am a relic—out of time and place.  Once this is done, once I have saved my son, I would happily see an end to magic.’

‘That would be the end of you, too, Lord Samuel,’ Leopold stated, hopeful in his tone.

‘Then so be it.’

‘And where is this lost son you mention?’

‘I do not know.  Who he is, is more important than where he is.  He is Lin, the Demon King, intent on consuming mankind, as he has at the end of every Age for time unknown.’

‘Why would you want to save such a creature?’

‘Because, like your father, I believe no one is beyond hope.  If your father had faith that a fallen magician such as me can still retain some good, then I can have faith that my son—once nothing more than a young man—can return to being a man once again.’

‘Yet your name is synonymous with suffering.  You have destroyed whole cities and armies, and you profess to causing the great cataclysm of the Darkening.’

‘All true,’ Samuel admitted.

‘So … why?  How can you sit here and tell me you have any good intent when you are a self-confessed blight upon the world?’

‘A matter of perspective ... we do what we need to do.  I cannot justify my actions to you.  In my place you would have done the same.’

Young Leopold scoffed, insulted by the suggestion.  ‘I would not!’

The magician shrugged.  ‘Then your father wasted his life and I am wasting my time in protecting you.’

Leopold was outraged.  ‘How dare you talk of him that way!’

The magician looked to Leopold with interest, finding amusement in the youth’s reactions.  ‘Long ago, a misguided youth shattered the skin between worlds and allowed dark spirits to cross over.  He became infused with evil, his three disciples also.  It began a never-ending cycle, the master returning to devour the population, the Ancient Ones left behind to monitor his flock.  Your father was one of those devils, a servant of the Demon King, dutifully slaughtering the masses again and again over countless eons.  Now I possess your father’s strength, I am one step closer to victory.’

Leopold could hold his temper no longer.  He launched from his seat and set upon the magician, knocking him onto his back, and there Leopold pummelled the man’s face with his fists with all his fury.

‘You lie!’ he screeched.  ‘Damn you back to hell!  I’ll kill you!’ he shrieked through gritted teeth.

Lord Samuel lay flat, unharmed, looking blankly at the boy while Leopold’s arms became leaden and he laboured to remain upright, exhausted from his efforts.

The magician took the beating without flinching until Leopold could not go on.  Infuriated, he staggered away from Lord Samuel, collapsing onto his seat and covering his face in his grazed and bleeding hands, weeping upon his feet.

‘Why?’ he whimpered.  ‘Why have you done this?  Why did you come to our island?  Why is this happening to me?’

He heard the magician climb to his feet and after a while, sniffing and wiping his eyes, Leopold dared look up—to find Lord Samuel gazing straight back at him.

‘I hope you have that out of your system,’ the magician told him.  ‘I cannot be harmed and you cannot escape, no matter how much you wish for it.  You are obliged to me.  As I made a promise to your parents, you have made a binding oath to me—and we have a job to do.  The sooner we do it, the sooner you can be home.’

Leopold put his back to the fiend and, with a start, found Toby standing right before him.  The young fool was looking at him intently, a cat watching a twitching leaf in the wind.

‘What do you want?’ Leopold asked angrily, sniffing once more.

The boy looked at him cheekily.  ‘Tooby,’ he said happily, as if his mangled name was the answer to all their problems.

Leopold was surprised to hear the boy utter his first word, however, his melancholy quickly returned.  He had no care if the boy spoke or not.

He shut his mind to them all and spent the following hours looking quietly out to sea.

****

Light was falling and the sun was hidden behind overlapping veils of pink and orange clouds low to the west, when the dark shape of buildings hugging the coastline came into view.  Leopold steered towards them at the magician’s instruction, doing what he was told without comment or objection.  He wanted to get them to land, so he could be away from the man.

Their destination revealed a fortified settlement, built upon a rocky island.  Sheer walls climbed from the water’s edge.  A narrow causeway extended to the mainland, barely above the waves.  From the way the rocks glistened, Leopold guessed the roadway would be underwater each high tide.  Boats moved around the island and lights glowed in the windows, suggesting life in the place.  Silhouettes strode the battlements, pointing towards them on noticing their approach.

‘Why has this town not yet fallen?’ Leopold asked.  ‘I thought few settlements prevailed on the mainland?’

‘This is Seakeep.  Many soldiers who fled the old Empire banded together and came here—what’s left of them.  They protect and shelter any civilians who they find, or send them on to other safe havens farther away.  There are no magicians here to attract the Truthseekers, and the soldiers do a good job of keeping out the minions of Cintar.  It would take Rei herself to root them out, and it is only a matter of time until she does.  They know that, too—which is why they’re letting us in.’

Figures, bows readied in their hands, watched them from the crenellations upon the walls.  Some tracked their passage, arrows poised for flight.  It seemed Lord Samuel was tolerated, although not entirely welcomed.

At the magician’s instruction, Leopold brought them against the chiselled rocks, and tied their vessel to one of many rings set into the stone, beside a large doorway.  They waited several minutes, then the doors opened inward and a short rope was slung out from the resulting opening in the wall.  Samuel climbed spryly.

Leopold followed, finding an enclosed storage area, with a wet stone floor and a ramp that pushed out into the water.  Small boats, oars, piles of rope and various boating equipment lay around the walls.

Several guards in blue and gold trimmed armour were waiting: young men, not much older than Leopold.  They stood valiantly, with the air of warriors.  Leopold had no doubt they would use their swords if so commanded, making him feel nervous.

‘Welcome, companions of the magician,’ hailed one flatly.  He did not sound welcoming and he did not acknowledge the magician directly.

Samuel watched idly while Salu struggled to climb.  Toby noticed them waiting and scrambled across the boat, jumping inside.

Counter to Leopold’s first impression, the guards proved not entirely courageous.  One of them trembled and could not avert his eyes from the magician.  The others were not so obvious, yet their subtle mannerisms betrayed their fear—glances towards the doorway—and none of them stood closer to the man than necessary.  When he stepped nearer, one stumbled in his hurry to retreat.

They called for helpers, and four civilians soon appeared.  They pushed the ramp out with a splash into the water and dragged the boat into the storage room.

‘The casket goes in my room,’ Samuel told a guard.  Leopold had no doubt he had singled out that particular man on purpose; he was the one who fidgeted the most.  The magician raised one finger before the fellow’s face in warning, and the guard locked his horrified gaze onto the finger as if it were a scorpion set to leap upon his face.  ‘Not a scratch,’ he warned, and the guard nodded vigorously.  ‘Don’t open it,’ he added, and in reply the guard shook his head until it rattled.

The men lingered, staring at the black casket, terrified.  None of them wanted to be the first to near it, fearing what may leap out, that it might burst into flames upon contact.  They looked to each other, hoping someone would dare be first.

Lord Samuel was confident they would see to his wishes, and strode away without hesitation.  He knew his way and Leopold hurried after him, scurrying to keep up with the magician’s pace.  The noise of Salu’s stick striking the stones sounded as the old man followed with his own doddering gait.  Presumably, Toby came with him; the magician displayed no sign of caring.

They traversed passageways and stairs crafted into the stone walls of the keep.  Anyone they met or who crossed their path took flight on sight of the magician’s dark robes—soldiers, servants, maids and pageboys.  Fear of the magician knew no restriction, and sounds of dismay followed each one fleeing down the halls.

They arrived at a large furnished chamber.  An officer with wings of grey in his short, ruffled hair waited for them in the room.  Aged leather armour was strapped across his chest, ready for battle, and a straight-edged sword was strung in its scabbard at his hip.  He had numerous scars on his face, one splitting an eyebrow and continuing up into his hairline; he had seen a lifetime of war.

As he regarded Lord Samuel, he showed none of the fright that had the other folk terrified.  He seemed actually pleased to see the magician.  For Leopold, it was a strange and unexpected turn.

‘Samuel,’ the man said.  ‘You return.’

‘Captain Orrell,’ the magician replied in greeting.

‘And you bring company,’ the captain added, looking to Leopold, just as Salu and Toby wandered into the room.  ‘Who do you have with you?  An old beggar draped in rags, a boy with a foolish grin and a young man who has never been far from his mother’s teat.  You amaze me with your antics, Magician.’  He sniffed the air loudly.  ‘And one of them is in desperate need of soap and scrubbing.’

Samuel waved his hand nonchalantly before the three to introduce them.  ‘Correct on all counts, Captain.  This old fool is Salu, brother of Grand Master Anthem and as you know, said to be amongst the greatest magicians of all time; although he has not proved to be much use in his current state.  He struggles to put his shoes on unaided, and his personal hygiene is highly questionable.  He is giving off that vengeful stench you detected.  The child is his witless companion.  Together they form almost a functioning unit.  Almost.  And surely you remember young Leopold.  It would be poor form of me to speak bluntly of him in company, but suffice to say your summation of him was not far from the mark.’

Captain Orrell’s eyes grew wider on hearing Leopold’s name, but he was a man not easily taken unawares and he regained his composure immediately.  ‘Gods, Samuel, this will bring some hope to the men.  How did you manage to find him?’

‘I did not bring him here to please your men, Captain.  Leopold was no longer safe where he was, so I brought him with me—at his father’s request.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Orrell asked suspiciously.

‘I made a promise to the father to protect the son.  I am keeping that promise.’

Leopold had the feeling that not all was being said, for Captain Orrell looked between him and the magician several times, digesting Lord Samuel’s words.

‘Very well,’ the captain decided, coming to terms with the matter.  ‘I suppose you have known where he and his mother have been all these years—and you never thought to tell me.’

‘I thought of it,’ the magician replied, correcting the fellow’s assumption.

The scowl on the captain’s face deepened.  ‘I hope you will be more honest with me in future, Samuel.  I am taking a great risk in welcoming you here.  My men considered revolt when they heard of your approach.  I find it hard to keep my faith in you when you neglect to tell me so much.’

‘I neglect nothing, Captain,’ Lord Samuel informed the man.

Captain Orrell closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  ‘So what will you do now?’ he asked expectantly.

‘I will do as I promised and keep him with me.  Beyond that, my plans remain the same.’

‘So you will take Leopold with you to Cintar while you battle the witch?  That is madness.’

‘He is safer with me than anywhere.  If you want to help me protect him, then you and your men could come with us.’

The captain looked hesitant.  ‘I thought you were going to say that.  We’ve tried before, as have others.  You know—you were there.  There are no secret ways through the gates of Cintar and the walls are impenetrable.  All previous attempts have met with total defeat and able men are growing scarce.  We simply cannot afford another loss.  It will be our last.’

‘Walls mean nothing to me.  I am more powerful than before.  I have already defeated one of the three.  The time of the Ancient Ones is ending; I will see to that.  I can penetrate Rei’s armies and face her directly.  I need you and your men to support me and watch over Leopold.  Once I am done, clean up the mess and the city is yours.  When I take care of the witch, her minions will lose their focus and her beasts will be banished.’

‘Are you so sure?  If we commit to this we risk everything.’

The magician nodded.  ‘I have doubled my strength.  This time, I will not falter.’

‘That’s good,’ the captain told him with a wry smile, ‘because we have called for the fleet to be readied.  They should be here with the dawn.  And with the Emperor at our lead, the men will fight to double their capacity.  Hopefully, when they see him it will counter their fears of you.  You know they speak of retaking Cintar first, and burning you second?’ he added with a smile.  ‘I let them keep that slender hope; it gives them the fortitude to go on.  I trust you remember the location of your room?  No one would use it after you last came, so it remains untouched.  I will organise lodgings for our new guests.  Now if you don’t mind, I have much to do.’  The man nodded towards Leopold before leaving the room.  ‘Your Majesty,’ he said in parting.

‘Your Majesty?’ Leopold repeated questioningly, looking to the magician.  ‘Why did he call me that?’

‘Because the last Turian Emperor was your father, Leopold,’ Samuel told him, ‘and the sons of emperors usually inherit their fathers’ empires.  Given that, Your Majesty is one such title commonly used to address said emperors.’

Leopold took a few moments to accommodate the information, until his mind focussed upon the obvious.  ‘I am an emperor?’

‘Yes, Leopold.  You are.  You are the Emperor: the Emperor of Turia, as was your father before you ... as I have strived to make painstakingly clear.’

His father had told him many times of the duties and responsibilities of the Emperor, labouring over the function of each official in the Imperial court, but never hinting at this.  It was all so clear now.  The man had been preparing him, covertly training him in what he knew would one day come.  All the lessons from his mother, dreadful at the time, now made sense.  Obviously they planned all along for Leopold to one day return and inherit the throne.

What a marvellous revelation!  Leopold danced with joy; not because he was elated to have the power or wealth that such a title would bring—those thoughts existed but were quickly pushed aside.  What excited him was something even better.  If he was Emperor, then everyone in the Empire was subservient to him, and even Lord Samuel had to follow his word without question.

‘But—but—but,’ he stammered, relishing the thought.  ‘But that means you must do what I say!  You must listen to me.  You must call me Your Majesty and I can call you whatever I want.’  He was excited.  At last!  To have sway over the man.

The magician smiled—a self-satisfied and knowing smile—and as soon as Leopold saw it, he knew that somehow his victory had been lost.  His jubilation fell as Samuel explained.

‘I will call you Leopold and you will call me Lord Samuel,’ the black-cloaked man reminded him.  ‘That is what we agreed, until such time as our bond has ended.  I will command and you will obey.  We made this covenant only earlier this same day, and I would not dare break my word to you, or let you break yours to me, Leopold.’  He stressed the final word, making it plain that an Emperor or Your Majesty would never precede it.

‘What … but … wait!’ Leopold floundered.  ‘You knew this would happen!’ he spat out angrily.  ‘You—you tricked me!’

‘Then let it be another lesson for you, Leopold.  Never agree to anything if you don’t know what you are agreeing to.’  With that, he had done smiling, and the pleasure vanished from his face quickly, a candle flame snuffed upon the wick.  His cloak swirling, he departed from the room.

‘If you please, Your Majesty,’ someone said at Leopold’s side.  ‘We will show you to your room.’

It was one of the captain’s men, but Leopold was too furious and too frustrated to hear the words.  When he finally calmed enough to follow the beckoning soldier, he was sure old Salu was grinning, eyes squeezed tight in silent mirth.

****

Leopold was granted his own room on the top floor.  Surprisingly, guards had been set outside his doorway.

‘Can we help you, Your Majesty?’ one of them asked upon him opening the door to peek outside.

Leopold shook his head and retreated into his room.  Evidently, the Emperor was a captive.

He received an evening meal, and a large tub in the corner was filled with buckets of steaming water brought in by dozens of sweating maids and houseboys.  Soaking in the scented water soothed the soreness in his bones, but could not douse the sorrow in his heart.  His father was dead: the world had changed in the space of day.

The old maids wanted to stay and tend to him, talking excitedly about his presence, but he chased them away to have some peace.  He picked at the various clothes they had left for him, but decided to slip back into the same familiar, faded shirt and weatherworn trousers he arrived in.  He hoped someone might bring him the bag his mother packed for him, for it contained a set of clean clothes from home, but there was no sign of it.

The quiet of the room became uncomfortable, reinforcing Leopold’s unhappiness at all that had occurred.  The revelation of being Emperor could not console him for the loss of his father, or being taken from his mother.

He decided a change of location might help his mood.  He was not about to be caged.  Slipping on the simple shoes his mother had made for him, he sought a way to venture outside.

Sliding out the window and along the ledge was easy, making him question the effectiveness of his supposed security.  Anyone intending to harm him could just as easily sneak inside—assuming they were as adventurous and nimble as he.

He stretched his leg across the short gap to the neighbouring building and clambered down the latticework towards the hallway passage he had spied from his room.  From there he stole inside, free to wander unhindered.  No one had noticed his entry, and when he passed people in the hall—servants and finely garbed women and children—they gave him no mind.  The occasional guard passed him by.  Judging from this, they did not fear newcomers wandering their halls.

He followed the brightly lit passageways, peering into various rooms.  The place was cluttered.  Store rooms overflowed and objects were piled one atop another.  Furniture and equipment were strewn across floors; paintings and sculptures stacked haphazardly.  Everything was hoarded away as if awaiting a time to be put back into use, but for now, it only gathered dust.

In one room hung a great portrait, a grand leader in a jacket and tight fitting pants, with a tall, decorated hat.  The artist had captured the man perfectly, for he seemed entirely lifelike, ready to leap from the frame.  He looked menacing, a savage glint in his eye.  Despite that, the fellow retained a regal air; a king or lord of some description.  Judging from the size of the painting and the fact it had been selected over the others to be displayed, he was someone of importance.  Leopold did not recognise him, but his attention was repeatedly drawn to those eyes.  They reminded him of someone—of his father, he realised—but there the similarity ended.

He browsed through more of the paintings that leant against the wall; all featured the same man.  In some he was alone, in others different women stood by his side—dressed regally with crowns and magnificent jewellery.  As Leopold flicked through the portraits, one caught his eye.  He stopped, jamming his hand in to prevent the picture from flipping past.  What he saw overwhelmed him, and his mind struggled to explain.

In this particular depiction the woman standing beside the royal gentleman was his mother.  She stood close to the man, white-gloved hands clasped in front.  She looked much younger, but her features were unmistakable.

Leopold gazed over the painting, wondering how she had come to be there with the strange man.  She looked so young and the fellow so old.  Was it her father perhaps or some other relative?  If Leopold’s father was indeed the Emperor, then it made sense that his mother was once an empress.  But a substantial problem remained: why were there no pictures of his father?

The only one who might know the answer was Samuel.  Leopold grimaced as he realised he would have to ask the magician.

He moved on, re-entering the passage and following it around the girth of the building.  It ended at a large sitting room, elegantly decorated with large cushioned chairs and splendid rugs.  Peeping through the doorway, he found it inhabited by half a dozen aristocratic looking women, passing their time in conversation and handcraft while their children played at their feet.

‘Can I help you, young sir?’

The voice startled him.

A young woman was standing behind Leopold in the hall, dressed in a striking blue gown, tight fitting at her waist and puffy about her bust and shoulders, accentuating her hourglass figure.  Her long brown hair was impressively braided and coiled upon her head.  She was a few years older and Leopold felt immediately nervous to answer, caught in the act of sneaking about as he was.

‘I’m sorry,’ he stammered.  ‘I must have wandered the wrong way.’

‘Oh?’ she said, her brow furrowed thoughtfully.  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.  ‘I have never seen you in Seakeep before.’

‘I just arrived,’ he said.

The woman looked down the passage and Leopold thought she may be about to call the guards.  Instead, she turned back to him.  ‘Evidently.  Your clothes smell like a fish market, and I know of no fish markets remaining—in these parts at least.  What is your name?’

Leopold took offence at her comment, but looking at himself, dressed in his worn old clothes encrusted with salt, he probably did stink as she said, despite his recent bath.  ‘I am Leopold,’ he told her.  ‘Leopold Green.’

‘Leopold?’ she said, musing on his name.  ‘Well, don’t linger outside our door, young Mister Green.  Come in and chat with me.  It’s not often we receive visitors.’

He did not know what to do as she swept past him, trailing the hem of her skirts upon the rug-covered floor.  Hesitantly, he followed the radiant woman into the room.  She sat on a padded chair away from the others, placing her feet flat on the floor and neatening her dress upon her lap.

‘Come.  Sit,’ she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her, and Leopold did as he was told.  ‘I am Lady Chatrise,’ she told him.  ‘Daughter of Empress Carolyn.’  She took note of Leopold’s lack of recognition, and went on.  ‘Goodness.  You seem to have found your way into the Royal quarters and evidently you have no idea who we are.  Are you supposed to be here?’

‘Of course,’ he replied nervously.

‘Then I assume you are to join the battle for Cintar?’ she asked and he nodded quickly.  ‘I think it is very brave of you.  There is very little common decency left in the world, so it is noble of you to sally into battle.  You don’t look like you could hold a sword,’ she added, scrutinising his lean form.

Leopold was speechless, but thankfully something caught Lady Chatrise’s interest and her consternation changed into an assuming smile.

‘Did you happen to arrive today, in the company of that blasted scourge Lord Samuel?’ she asked.

To this, Leopold nodded.  He was not a child by any measure, and yet he felt overwhelmed by this well-spoken and beautiful woman.

She laughed at his response, and quietened her voice when some of the other women looked over.

‘Oh, Leopold, why didn’t you tell me?’  She leaned forward and whispered to him, ‘I am so happy to meet you, my darling brother!’

‘What’s that?’ Leopold spoke with surprise, much louder than he intended.

‘Leopold Green, my left foot,’ she said.  ‘I am your half-sister.  Our father was the same man—Edmond Calais.’  She gestured discretely to the others in the room.  ‘All these and many more are your half-sisters and their children.  We heard you had been found and had arrived with the magician today.  We thought it perhaps some cruel jest or rumour, but I see now on meeting you it is true.  I can see our father’s look about you!  You’re his spitting image!’  She leaned further forward and grasped his hands and squeezed them.  ‘Oh, Leopold!  How wonderful to know you are alive!’

Leopold was taken aback, and pulled away.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said.  ‘I know you don’t remember any of us.  I was only five years old when you disappeared.  We had thought you and Empress Lillith were lost forever, but then you returned and the Paatin horde was miraculously defeated.  We thought our prayers had been answered.  Then the Darkening came over the world.  Everything fell into chaos and you and mother vanished again—before the coming of the witch.  No one knew what happened to you.  All hope was lost, and now we have cause for celebration!’  The woman stood up and pressed her hands to her chest with joy.  ‘Come, you must meet everyone!’

Leopold spoke softly and urgently to calm her down.  ‘That is not a good idea,’ he told her.  ‘I’ve lived my whole life on a tiny island, with only salt and sand for company.  I am not even sure if all this I’ve heard about me is true.’

‘Very well, my brother,’ she said considerately.  ‘Take your time.  This must be quite a shock for you.  Have you truly been in hiding all this time?  How exciting!’

A woman’s scream sounding from outside the window interrupted them and Chatrise hurried over to look into the dim courtyard, as did Leopold.  The other ladies also rushed to the several windows along the wall, fussing as they struggled to make out what occurred below.

‘What is it?  What has happened?’ one of them called below.

Guards rushed to the scene, gathering with torches and lanterns in hand.

‘A body.  Stabbed in the back,’ one of them called aloud, a dark shape splayed at his feet.  ‘Truthseekers!’ he added with dismay, and it sent a gasp of horror through the room.  More guards were running into the courtyard, as others were coming into the room, ushering them away from the windows and closing the giant wooden shutters to keep out the night.

‘Calm yourselves, Ladies,’ one of them said, an aging fellow.  Leopold noted that his armour and equipment looked as old as he, meticulously cared for.  The leather straps that held his plating in place were dark and soft with age, showing no sign of mistreatment.  The steel was crossed with grooves and furrows from the numerous blows it had taken over the years, the sharp edges polished smooth.

Chatrise drew Leopold aside while the ladies pulled their children back to the rugs and the fireplace.  ‘You should return to your room,’ she told him in a hushed voice.  ‘If Truthseekers are here, your life is in danger.’

‘Who are they?’ Leopold asked.  ‘What do they want?’

‘They are killers.  No one knows who they are or what they look like.  None have ever been caught.  Now you are here, they will be after you most of all.  Yes, yes, you should not tell anyone who you are, and I will keep your secret safe.  Quickly!  Go!  The guards will shortly guide us into the cellars below this building and we will stay there until they are sure it is safe.’

Leopold hurried away at her command and retraced his way down the halls, until he was beside the window he had used to enter the building.  He waited until the passageway was empty of rushing soldiers and servants, and then quickly took his chance, climbing outside and up, agile as a monkey.

Guards were running about madly, shining their lamps into all the dark corners to find their quarry.  Leopold shuffled along the wall in the darkness, returning to the point where he could vault across the space between the buildings.  He was about to reach his leg across the gap, when he felt someone watching him; he was not alone.  Sitting on the rooftop above, swathed in dark cloth and shadow, was a figure; the moonlight revealed a pale, moustached face.

‘What brings you here, young man?’ the fellow asked with amusement.

Leopold froze.  He had no excuse.  He had been caught.  A terrible thought occurred to him at that moment.  Have I stumbled upon the Truthseeker?

‘I could ask you the same,’ Leopold replied, summoning up a menacing tone.

The man chuckled in response.  ‘Come up here.  I am no accursed Truthseeker.  I would talk with you a moment, young Leopold.  If the Truthseekers are here, you are best locked safely inside your room before they learn of your existence.  You make an easy target for their blades.’

Leopold climbed and sat on the rooftop, facing the stranger.  Balanced precariously, straddling the angled ridge, it was as if he sat upon the saddle of a gigantic horse.  ‘How do you know my name?’

‘I keep my ear to the ground, Leopold; but so do the Truthseekers; they may know of you already.  They have killed someone in the open, possibly a distraction for just that purpose—which is why I came to check on you.’

‘Why would they want to kill me?’ Leopold asked defensively.  ‘I have done nothing to them.’

Again the man laughed, not with ill humour, but genuinely amused by Leopold’s comments.  ‘You are so naive, boy; not at all like your father.  Nobody needs any reason to kill anyone else—especially in these dark days.  The Truthseekers are instruments of evil and they murder anyone with an inkling of magic in their blood.’

‘Then why would they seek me?’

The stranger drew back his hood to reveal his shaggy black hair and trimmed beard, unworried that he may be seen by the guards running around below.  On closer examination, Leopold saw the man’s clothes were a dark green, and not black as he had first assumed.

‘The title of Emperor guarantees an ample supply of foes, Leopold, but you have magic in your blood; your worries are doubled.’

‘Magic?’ he asked, confused.

‘Your father was a man unlike most.  It would appear he chose purposefully not to develop the spark inside of you.  Indeed, I can feel many spells planted upon you over the years to repress your nature.  I can feel it, others will too.  The Truthseekers will come for you eventually—or worse.’

‘What is worse than them?’ Leopold asked.

‘Him.  The magician that killed your father—Samuel.  Yes, I know about that, too.  He is as dark-hearted and evil as any demon that now stalks the land.  People do not fear and despise him for nothing.  Do not let him tell you differently.  He wiped out every single living soul in my homeland in an instant.  He keeps you safe for now, but that is only to meet his own ends.  He will have something in mind for you to suit his plans; of that I am certain.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Leopold asked.  It was difficult to believe his parents were fooled by Samuel; but, if true, the magician posed more danger than ever.

‘Once, I knew him well, but he has changed much since then.  Samuel was my most trusted friend.  Now he is my nemesis.  He is a monster, a demon, a plague upon humanity.  Any good inside him was consumed by his pain and anguish and selfish desires.  He is worse than all the other curses that have befallen this land put together.  He has deluded himself with his grand schemes of taming the Demon King—a beast that he released upon the world himself.’

‘Then what should I do?’ Leopold asked, alarmed by the prospect of returning to the magician.

‘I have a plan, but I will need your help.  Stay with him.  Find out as much as you can.  He must have a weakness and I am sure he keeps it hidden within his coffin.  He never goes far from it and I’m sure all the tales of its horrors were begun by him to ensure no one opens it.  If we discover its purpose, we can use it against him.  I will return to you soon and ask what you have learned.’

‘But I don’t want to stay with him!’ Leopold protested.  ‘I hate him.  I want to leave as soon as I can.’

‘You have no choice.  You cannot run; he will find you wherever you go.  Your only choice is to do as he commands.  Stay close to him.  There you can be the most useful.  But never trust him, Leopold.  Never!  No matter what he says or how he seems.  That would be trusting evil itself.’

‘Are you not afraid he will find us here?’ Leopold asked, looking around nervously at the thought of Samuel discovering them in the midst of their plotting.

‘He is gone now, on an errand of madness I would wager, or I would not be here.  He would sense my presence.’

‘If he is as bad as you say, how do you know him so well?’

‘At one time I was a Lord of the Order, like him—a Magician of the Empire—before the Truthseekers hunted us down.  Unfortunately, I am partly responsible for unleashing this evil upon the world.  I took Samuel to Cintar when he was just a boy and I introduced him to the School of Magic.  If I had known then what I know now, I would have killed him on the spot.  My name is Tulan Goodwin—at your service.’

‘How can I do this alone?’ Leopold asked, struggling against the weight of it all.   ‘Who can I trust?’

‘Did your father not teach you, boy?  Trust no one.’  Then he sighed at the bleak tone of his words.  ‘Captain Orrell is a good man, one of the many being misled.  If you fear for your safety, stay by the captain’s side.  He would protect you—to the cost of his own life if need be.’

‘What about the old man—Salu?  I heard he is also a magician, so will he not attract the Truthseekers upon us?’

Tulan was pensive.  ‘I do not know.  He has power, but not wits enough to use it.  I sought him at one time for insight, and found a simpleton.  I gained no sense from him; human ways are beyond his comprehension.  Genius and madness are tightly interwoven.  He might let you fall to your death before he realised what was going on.  If the Truthseekers take him there is nothing you can do; do not stand in their way.  No, keep with Captain Orrell.  The man is worthy.  More the pity he is besotted with his Empire,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘When will you come again?’ Leopold asked, but a voice from his window caught his attention.

‘Emperor Leopold!  What are you doing up there!’  It was a guard, leaning out towards him.

Leopold turned back to Tulan, but the man was gone, leaving him alone on the roof in the cold of night.

‘One moment,’ Leopold called.  He carefully climbed down, hopped across the gap and into his room.

What are you doing up there?’ the guard asked.  ‘There are Truthseekers about!’  And he clanked the shutters into place and locked them tight, greatly flustered.

‘I heard noises,’ Leopold replied in way of excuse.

‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ the man said.  He was wet with perspiration and flushed with worry.  ‘If you hear noises please let us know.  Don’t risk your dear life by climbing upon the shingles.  I am unsure such heights would be safe from the devilish Truthseekers.  They can fly and turn into rats if need be.’

‘Why would they need to fly and turn into rats?’ Leopold asked, and the confused expression on the guard’s face made him immediately regret asking.  ‘I will remember that,’ he said to close the matter and he sat back on his bed while the guard, relieved to have found him, returned to the hall and eased the door shut behind him.

Chapter Three

The Queen of Lies

LEOPOLD WOKE TO SOMEONE waiting at the foot of his bed.  He listened intently for the sounds of his home, his eyes closed, and realised something was amiss.  There were no busy noises of Mother preparing breakfast; no clinking of Father’s spoon against his cup as he stirred his Tanabil leaf tea, and no noises of him sipping at it patiently; no hiss of the wind in the leaves around their house nor the distant thumping of waves along the shore.  He heard none of these usual and reassuring sounds, all ingrained into his waking mind throughout every prior day of his life.

Leopold realised the bed was wrong.  It was not his.  It was twice as big and far too soft.  He drew air in through his nose, and discovered the room smelled different.  Worst of all, someone was standing perfectly still nearby, watching him.

He opened his eyes, discerning the man lurking beyond his feet.  Light and dark separated and solidified as he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes.  The light became the walls, the sky through the window, the glint of sunlight in a mirror across the room; the dark fled to one spot, congealing into the shape of a magician towering to the ceiling.

Lord Samuel waited patiently, quietly, in his black robes.

‘Ah,’ Leopold groaned, sitting up.  Now he remembered; This was not his home.  The magician had stolen his former life and dragged him on this insane adventure.  The man—if he could be called that—had murdered his father and Leopold had vowed to have his revenge.

The events of the night before returned: the pact with Tulan Goodwin.  His eyes darted to the magician.  Could he possibly know?  The thought curdled inside.  Burning embers of nervousness sparked and spread.

‘What’s wrong?’ Leopold asked, uneasy with the silence.

‘I want to speak with you,’ the magician replied coldly.

‘You could have waited until I woke.’  Leopold feigned annoyance, one eye on the fellow.

‘I did.’  There was never any rush to speak, no tell-tale inflections in the steady tone of his voice.

‘You could have waited in your own room, and not in here staring at me.  It is strange you know.  It’s not normal at all to behave the way you do.  Has anyone told you that?  I’m sure they have.’

The magician ignored his complaints.  ‘I am told of a disturbance last night.’

‘Truthseekers,’ Leopold said, swinging his feet out from under the bed-covers and straight into his waiting shoes.

Lord Samuel took his time to digest Leopold’s reply, watching as the young Emperor pulled his clothes from the bedside table.  His bag had finally been retrieved from the boat, and Leopold had a fresh change of familiar clothes to wear.

‘I heard there was trouble in my absence,’ the magician stated, looking to the window.  ‘The guards tell me you left your room.’

‘I did,’ Leopold replied, and pulled his trousers over his underwear.  He avoided the magician’s waiting gaze, those eyes unblinking, unnerving.  ‘I didn’t know I was a prisoner.’

‘You are no prisoner, foolish boy.  We are protecting you.’

‘I see our agreement has not lasted long.’  Leopold threw a hastily constructed look of annoyance the magician’s way.  ‘You agreed not to call me that.’

‘There is more at stake here than your pride, Leopold.  You would do well to remember that.’

‘You have no need to worry.  The Truthseekers did not find me.’

Lord Samuel grunted.  ‘You are safe from them as long as you stay with me, but there are others who may wish to hurt you, fool boy.  You are the Emperor of Turia now, and despite the world being in turmoil, I guarantee many would not want a return of the old Empire, and many would wish to seize your power.  From now until the time you die, worry about your life.  It is no longer yours to waste as you wish.  It is a precious thing, with many fates riding upon it.  You have to fight to keep it, so I suggest you put the odds in your favour and believe what I tell you, and do what I tell you to do!’

The magician waited for a response that did not come.  Leopold buttoned his shirt, his heart beating furiously, as he fought to maintain the illusion of calm.  He knew his efforts were futile, and he felt that the magician could see his fearful heart pounding in his chest, as easily as if it were laid upon the table, fluttering naked on that polished timber.

Without further word, Lord Samuel turned and quietly left the room.

****

A pair of maids came to Leopold’s chamber to provide breakfast and another bath.  They scrubbed him as his mother had not done in eight years or more—not since he came home covered in tar leaked from a barrel washed on the shore—and he had to sit and bear it, for they ignored his protests.  They apologised that they had not taken better care of him the previous evening.  The discovery of the murdered body had them locked away for most of the night.

The matronly women fawned over him and asked countless questions, about everything he had been doing all these years, and they gasped as they heard of his simple life.  Bafflement marred their faces whenever he mentioned his father.

‘We served your father for twenty years apiece,’ one of the women told him, ‘and we were there when he died.  He was killed on the steps of the palace, while you were still inside your mother’s womb.  We saw it from the palace windows.’

Leopold shook his head.  ‘I’ve been with my father all this time,’ he affirmed.

He caught the first old maid passing a raised eyebrow to the second.  ‘Well, he was a kind gent for looking after you.  In these dark days, such gallantry is hard to come by.’

Leopold was set to argue with them further, and realised it would be futile.  He would ask Lord Samuel the moment he saw him.  He had no patience for all this confusion.  Murderous magician or not, he would find out what was going on.

He let the women continue their work of bathing and dressing him in outlandish clothes.  Protesting made no difference, and they washed him from head to toe, ignoring his pleas to see to some parts himself.  When they were done, they shoved him into leggings and shirtsleeves and buttoned him without regard for his physical discomfort, until he appeared the perfect image of a royal dandy.

****

Captain Orrell appeared shortly afterwards, dressed in a splendid Turian officer’s uniform.  It looked almost new.

‘Good morning, Captain,’ Leopold said as the man politely entered.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ he replied.  ‘I trust you slept well, and that the ruckus did not inconvenience you too greatly.’

‘I would hope that a man’s murder could never inconvenience me, Captain.  The only inconvenience was being dragged from my home by the intolerable magician.’

Orrell could not contain a subtle smile.  ‘I see you have established a healthy relationship with him.  Do not fret.  If you were fond of Samuel then I would have sincere reason to be concerned.’

Leopold thought about questioning him further, but from the captain’s tone the two were friendly, if not outright friends.

He scowled and glanced to the opened window.  ‘Did you catch your murderer?’

‘Who?’

‘The murderer.  The Truthseeker.’

‘No.  We never do,’ Orrell admitted.  ‘The best we can do after they strike is ensure that everyone is safe and accounted for and hope we will be left alone after a time.’

‘That is not a very sound way to be rid of the problem.  Have you considered the Truthseeker may live here or be one of your men?’

‘I have, Your Majesty, but there is little I can do about it but remain alert.  Perhaps the culprit will give himself away eventually.’

Your Majesty.  Leopold struggled to connect the title to himself.  This would take time.  ‘Or herself,’ he added, returning to the conversation.

Orrell nodded, content.  ‘Quite right.  I am glad I came to see you.  I was not sure you were who Samuel claimed you to be.  After this brief conversation, I am happy to find you have much more in common with your father than physical appearance.’

‘That’s strange,’ Leopold replied, absentmindedly scratching his cheek.  ‘Most people always said I looked nothing like my father.’

‘Oh, no.  You are the spitting image, although I must say you certainly inherited your mother’s eyes.’  He glanced towards the window, his attention attracted by marching footsteps below.  ‘Actually, I did come here to ask you something.’

‘Oh?’

‘There has been much excitement after word spread of your arrival.  I am about to address my men, and would ask that you join me.  A few words from their Emperor would greatly inspire them.  Just to see you would raise their hopes.’

Leopold was apprehensive.  ‘Captain, I wouldn’t know what to say.’

‘Say good morning, say good luck.  They don’t expect a speech.  These men are Turians.  They want to see and hear the Emperor they thought long dead.  They worship you as other men worship their gods.  You will find no other people so devoted in all the world.’

Leopold considered it.  ‘Very well.  I will try.’

‘Excellent,’ the captain declared, ‘because they are gathered already.  Captain Valiant is speaking to them now, so we should hurry.’

Leopold quickly regretted his decision.  He considered the tight Turian clothing the old women had put him in.  He did not mind wearing such dandified apparel in his room; walking around outdoors was a different matter.  People would surely snigger.  Then again, he had seen several nobles strutting the halls in stranger wear, and the portraits he had perused displayed all manner of bizarre clothing.  Coughing, he undid the tight, ruffled collar strapped around his neck and threw it onto his bed.  That would do for now.

Captain Orrell led Leopold briskly down the stairs, passing through the small courtyard below his room and through another building, his boots clomping on the cold wooden floor.  A large painting hung there in the entrance, aged and faded.  Leopold halted, examining it, calling the captain excitedly.

‘Who is this man?’ he asked, pointing towards the subject of the picture; the same wild-eyed fellow he had seen in many paintings the night before.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ the captain explained with puzzlement.  ‘That is your father—Edmond Calais.’

Leopold paused, finding no words to voice his confusion.  The man in the painting was certainly not the father he knew.

‘Shall we go?’ Orrell suggested.

Fully confounded, Leopold followed the captain while he tried to make sense of it all.

They came out of the building into another greater square where several hundred armed men were gathered in rows.  They cheered immediately as Leopold came into view and he flinched at the riotous noise.  Their numbers disturbed him, for he had never seen so many people in one place.  Steeling himself, he stepped to Captain Orrell’s side, cringing at the continuous cheers.  It took the stern words of the officer standing in front of them to quieten them.

‘Thank you, Captain Valiant,’ Orrell told the man, who in return stepped back.

A couple of guards placed a heavy box at their feet.  Leopold waited idly, until Captain Orrell raised both eyebrows towards him and pointed a finger to the box.

‘Well,’ he urged.  ‘Up you get, Your Majesty.’

Leopold cleared his throat and raised one boot.  His leggings were proving tighter than anticipated and he struggled to get his leg up high enough, accepting Orrell’s hand in assistance.  He faced the crowd, overlooking their heads, nervous and overwhelmed.

Oh, gods! he thought.  What have I gotten into?

The men were looking at him, expectant and restless.  Many had their mouths open; others were moving their heads about to see past those in front.

Old Salu doddered in the background, ignoring the proceedings and tapping the wall with his stick, grumbling in conversation with it.  The presence of the harmless old madman was strangely comforting, reassuring.

‘Ah ... good morning,’ Leopold opened rather pathetically.  ‘I hope you are all feeling well this fine morning.’  He noted the sky was overcast and not too fine at all.  A heavy shower was imminent.  He turned to the captain behind, and Orrell was subtly circling his hand, as if to say keep going.

‘It is a pleasure to speak to you.’  Leopold returned his attention to the men, and scoured his mind for something to say, something that a good leader might reveal in such times.  His father had recited many famous speeches to him over the years—the reasons for which were lost to him at the time—and Leopold cursed himself for not being able to remember even one.  ‘Until only yesterday, I had no idea of the fact, but apparently I am your Emperor.’

They looked sceptical.  He was not doing well.

People hung out of the windows on every level around them—servants and ladies and children, looking at him and clinging to his words.  He glimpsed Lady Chatrise, and sent her a nervous smile across the courtyard.  The woman beside her was fighting with something; Toby was struggling in her arms, laughing and trying to climb right out the window in his efforts to see.

Scraps of his father’s talks started coming back to him, and Leopold hastily gathered them, stitching together the haphazard beginnings of a speech.

‘I know my father was a great man.  He never told me of his past, but from him, I learned much about the Empire and all the great things that you, his loyal men, must have helped him to achieve.  I understand these have been difficult times.  There is probably not one amongst you who has not lost someone close to them, even everyone close to them, but looking at you here, I can see the Turian Empire is not lost—it has not withered.  It lives, vibrant in your eyes, impregnable in your hearts.  I do not see defeat.  I see proud men and strong women behind you.  I see children saved by your hands.  I see an empire ready to make its return.’

He felt his confidence rising as he gained momentum.

‘As I stand in front of you, I can feel how proud it must feel to be your leader ... but alas, I am not your Emperor.’  Concerned muttering ran across the crowd.  ‘I cannot become an emperor overnight, just because I have a bath and put on these awful, ill-fitting clothes.  An emperor needs a throne and a palace.  Soon you will go to battle and endeavour to retake Cintar.  Perhaps we will find such things there, I do not know.’  Quizzical glances were shared.  The stitching had definitely begun to fray.  ‘The point I am trying to make is, and I’m sure you fully agree, we will most certainly win.’

A cough sounded in the ensuing silence.  The courtyard waited expectantly.

‘Ah, that’s all,’ he added uncomfortably.

He smiled reassuringly at the men, but it did little to cure their astonishment.  Captain Orrell offered his hand and Leopold accepted the assistance in getting down.

‘That was awful,’ the man muttered.

‘You said I could say anything!’ Leopold whispered harshly.  ‘They hated it.’

‘Wait,’ Orrell urged him.

Captain Valiant stepped forward.  ‘The Emperor of Turia!’ he bellowed.

A wild cheer erupted as the men threw up their fists and roared.  The people in the windows clapped gleefully.  Leopold faced them all, utterly surprised by the reaction.

‘See?  I told you,’ Orrell said, struggling to be heard.  ‘Just wait until you make a good speech.  You will need to cover your ears!’

‘They are enthusiastic, aren’t they?’ Leopold said above the commotion.

‘As are you.  I said a short speech.  Now, let’s get you back to your room so we can keep you safe.’

Captain Valiant had to clamber up onto the box and roar at the men to quieten them.  They had spent years hoping for such a day and were not about to be stopped in their celebration.  The truth be known, Valiant’s efforts were half-hearted and he could have done much more to calm them, but it was his role to appear stern, and so stern he was.

Leopold followed Captain Orrell away from the courtyard and towards his room, but saw a flash of black cloth vanish into the passage before them.  He hurriedly caught up with the magician, striding purposefully away, with Captain Orrell following patiently behind.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold called.  ‘Wait!’

The magician froze, waiting until Leopold rounded to face him.  As usual, he said nothing, waiting for Leopold to speak.

From where he stood, Captain Orrell could see the anger on Leopold’s face.

‘What is all this about my father?’ Leopold asked furiously, for in the short space of pursuing the magician, he had worked himself into a temper, convincing himself not to back down, not to take any lies from the devious scoundrel.  ‘People tell me he died years ago.  Who was the man that raised me?  Why does he look nothing like the pictures of the Emperor?  What deception is taking place here?’

The magician replied calmly.  ‘The man in the paintings about these halls was indeed your father, Leopold.  He did die, as they say, in Cintar before you were born—’

‘Nonsense!’ Leopold declared, interrupting him.

‘—but,’ the magician forged on, ‘he was reborn into another body.  I told you, your father had many lives, but the last one he dedicated entirely to you.  He kept his existence secret and let the world think he was dead.  If I were you, I would not tell anyone otherwise.  It would not help, except to let people think you are lacking of sanity.’

‘Why did he not tell me this?’ Leopold asked, his anger faded, overwhelmed with doubt.

‘I have told you why—to protect you.’

A sliver of hope appeared as Leopold thought the matter through.  ‘If he can come back to life as you say, is it not possible he is already with us again?  Could he be reborn amongst us even now as we speak?’  Surely it was possible.

Samuel possessed no emotion.  He could not hear the desperation in the young man’s voice.  Anyone else would have given Leopold a tactful answer to ease his disappointment, to soothe his sorrow.  Of course, Samuel did not.  He did not care about such things in the slightest.

‘He’s dead, Leopold,’ the magician said flatly.  ‘The dead don’t come back.  And one more thing: you will call me Lord Samuel.  Nothing else will suffice.’

With that, the magician strode on his way, leaving Leopold with his hopes crashed down around him.

****

Leopold procrastinated for the remainder of the day.  His guards would not let him roam, and he was required to summon them any time he needed to visit the privy—a bucket beside a hole in the wall that dropped into the sea—or stretch his legs or do anything beyond the bounds of his bedchamber.  Even with them beside him, he was limited to that particular floor of the building, the other rooms emptied to keep him safe.

Nobody came to visit him, and so Leopold sat on the end of his bed or looked out his window, sighing with boredom and awaiting his next scrubbing from the old maids.

****

The next morning, a flurry of excitement came upon the island.  The halls filled with people rushing about.  Soldiers readied their armour and swords, while the women, the aged and the children followed them to assist.  People hurried, carrying weapons, provisions and all manner of supplies.

Venturing from his chambers and looking out the far window by the privy, Leopold saw a small fleet of mismatched ships upon the sea, busied in preparation, men clambering over each inch of them and small cockboats darting between them and the shore, ferrying men and goods.  From far to the north, more vessels were arriving and a dark bulk was set amongst them, wreathed in pale sails and dwarfing the craft around it, too distant to be seen clearly and coming too slowly for Leopold’s limited patience.  He returned to his room and paced, waiting for news of when and what would happen in the day.

‘Come.  It’s time to go,’ a voice announced.  Captain Orrell filled the doorway, his sword at his hip.

Leopold was thankful the waiting was over.  ‘Where is the magician?’  He refused to call the diabolical man a Lord.

‘Waiting for you.  Follow me.’

Leopold hastened to keep up with the captain as they went down towards the waiting longboats that would carry them to the fleet.

‘Don’t get used to those clothes,’ the man said as they walked along.

‘Why is that?’ Leopold said, regarding himself in his new clothes.  What he had chosen seemed reasonable.

‘The commander of the fleet adores pageantry.  He’ll have you in a stately gown more appropriate for an emperor.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Leopold said, dismissively.

Orrell smiled dryly.  ‘We shall.’

‘How did you meet the magician?’ Leopold asked, dogging the captain as they paced along.  ‘You seem to know him better than most.’

‘We met long ago.’

‘He is abominable.  How do you suffer him?’

‘I have seen what he is capable of and it is true he is a haunted soul.  Put simply, we need him.’

‘Do you trust him?’

‘He is our only chance,’ the captain stated with authority.  ‘I have to trust him.’

Old Salu and Toby waited in a sleek boat that bobbed beside the keep and Captain Orrell left Leopold with them, pursuing other business.  The spectre of Lord Samuel soon appeared, prowling into the chamber and creeping into the vessel without a word.

The magician never changed his appearance from his swathes of black; the other two were outfitted in fresh clothes—neat suit and jacket, like gentlemen.  Toby did not seem to know any different, and sprung about threatening to fall into the sea.  Salu sat motionlessly, a scolded child, forlornly wrapped in his tight-fitting suit.

The narrow craft was brimming with sealed wooden barrels—piled on top of Samuel’s waiting casket—each painted black with two red stripes across the middle.

‘What are these?’ Leopold asked, sitting tightly between them, rapping his knuckles on one of the timber casks.  It sounded solid.

‘Aid for our battle,’ the magician responded.  ‘Casks of black powder that Captain Orrell’s men have been readying for such an occasion.’

‘Are they dangerous?’

‘Only if you are near them when they explode,’ was the response.

Leopold eyed the containers apprehensively and settled into his seat, waiting for whatever delayed their departure.  After a long silence, Lord Samuel slowly pointed a finger, indicating that Leopold should take the oars.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Leopold declared, his annoyance sparking a smile on the magician’s face.

‘Being an emperor is not all pleasure, Leopold.  Take the oars.  I wouldn’t want you growing fat with all this fine food they’re giving you.’

‘I’d not call it fine,’ Leopold grumbled.  ‘And I’ve lost more skin in the bathtub than I’ve gained in fat.’

‘Good.  That’s what I instructed.’

Leopold picked up the oars and shoved them into their brackets, tensed against them, heaved, and set their boat away.

‘I had thought being an emperor meant I could avoid such work,’ he complained, grunting as he dragged the oars through the water.

‘Not while you are with me,’ Samuel responded.  ‘Emperors get special treatment.’

They coursed into the ocean, heading for the heart of the flotilla, with Toby jumping about and whooping at the ships in the distance, shaking his fists with glee and upsetting the boat despite Leopold’s protests.

‘What is that?’ Leopold asked, taking a pause from his work to look directly at the huge vessel that dwarfed the rest of the fleet.

‘A Koian galleon,’ Lord Samuel responded.

‘Where did it come from?’ the youth asked in awe.

‘Koia.’

Leopold briefly considered scolding the man for being so evasive, yet he knew it would be a waste of time.

‘Why is it here?’ he asked, returning to his oars with a groan of effort.

‘Some people from Koia came here in it long ago—just after you were born.  Their ship was a wreck.  It seems someone has been busy repairing it.  I have not seen it since that time and I admit I had forgotten about it altogether.  They have done an admirable job restoring it.’

‘It’s enormous,’ Leopold noted aloud.

They were now reaching the outermost craft, each an enormous ship in its own right—two and three masted galleons, brigs and schooners of various design, each covered with men and readying for battle.  The fleet was a rabble, an assortment of every decent-sized vessel that floated: the Koian craft by far the most impressive.

They sat silently, drawing closer to the ship’s side, a great wall rising from the ocean.  Salu mumbled and jittered in the back of the boat, ignorant of the mammoth vessel in front.  Toby was on his feet, looking at it and giggling, pumping one arm up and down in excitement.

Leopold forgot about rowing as he gaped over his shoulder.  Luckily they had enough momentum to move ahead until they nearly crashed into the side of the ship.  At the last instant, Leopold jumped from his seat, cautiously treading over the black and red casks and stuck out his foot to stop the collision.  Their movement was slow and the impact would be minimal, yet with the threat of the black powder still in his mind Leopold took no chances.

Lord Samuel sat idly, leaving Leopold to hold onto the netting that hung down the outside of the ship.  The dark steaming hull heaved dangerously atop the waves and, as it leaned towards them, the wooden rampart hovered menacingly above their heads.

‘What do we do?’ Leopold asked.

A gantry swung out above them, as a team of sailors adjusted ropes and pulleys into position.

‘Climb,’ the magician said, standing and putting his hands to the rope netting.  He raised one boot and commenced climbing, with Leopold following after him.

The netting was a simple ascent for Leopold; he pondered how Salu and Toby would follow.  Looking down, he saw them sitting in the boat, Toby watching with wonder.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Samuel assured Leopold as he reached the top and waited for him.

They climbed onto the deck together, where a cluster of sailors reeled back from the magician.  Terror flashed between them.  Samuel held out his palms and bowed his head to show he meant no harm.

‘Go about your work, gentlemen,’ he told them, stepping aside to give them room.  ‘Superstitious fools,’ he muttered to Leopold as the men reluctantly returned to their work.

The sailors were readying a device consisting of beams, ropes and counterbalances.  When they were ready, ropes descended, with two men standing on hooks at the end.  It was meant to raise the boat below and indeed, many other similar vessels were already locked into place at the side of the ship, riding high above the waves.

‘Why didn’t we just sit and wait for them to pull us up?’ Leopold asked.

‘Because people make mistakes,’ was Lord Samuel’s reply.  ‘I would rather climb and be safe than be dropped.  Especially with those barrels aboard.’

A voice called and a caped man leapt down from stairs that led to a huge rearward structure.

‘Samuel!’ the fellow declared in greeting.  ‘Welcome aboard!’  He had long black hair tied in a ponytail, a triangular beard, extravagant moustache and a black eyepatch covering one eye.  He was delighted to see the magician, the first man Leopold saw as being so, certainly outdoing Captain Orrell’s subtle reception by far.

‘Daneel,’ the magician responded, with no effort to match the other’s enthusiasm.

‘You have returned again, alive and well, my fine Magician.  I am past thinking someone may one day get the better of you.  Pray tell, did you find whatever you were looking for?’  He had an accent like none Leopold had heard before and enjoyed pronouncing each individual word, passing them over his lips in delectation.

‘I did,’ Samuel replied.

‘Wonderful!’ the man said and slapped the magician firmly on the back.  ‘Ah!  How could I expect any less from you?’  He was impervious to Samuel’s lifeless gaze and continued as if brothers or best of friends.  Just then, the barrel laden boat was raised into view, carried on squeaking ropes, and Daneel eyed it unhappily.  ‘I am only nervous about all this black powder on the Farstride.  One mistake and our sortie will meet with a sudden, fiery end.’

‘Then let there be no mistakes,’ Samuel stated.

A lever was slammed into place and the sailors moved aside as the boat was swung onto the deck, allowing Toby to leap out and Salu to dangle one skinny leg over the side until it met the decking.  The other leg followed and he struggled down, immediately roaming about, tapping the flooring with his stick loudly and turning one ear down, listening to the various sounds that issued with each tap.

With the boat safely in place, the sailors unloaded its explosive cargo, carrying barrels one at a time and heading down stairs that vanished below a hatchway.

Another fellow and a finely dressed woman made their way through the busied sailors towards them.  The man was obviously a high-ranking officer judging from his splendid uniform, a neat suit of navy blue with gold trim and a matching cap.  A narrow rapier swung at his side.  He was in his greying years, standing firm and tall, lean and strong, his gaze direct and challenging; he had seen his share of difficult years.

The woman was unlike anything Leopold had ever beheld.  She was much shorter than the man, slim, yet equivalent in age.  She moved with poise and grace, possessing striking features.  Her olive skin and narrowed eyes marked her as a foreigner to these lands—a race from the far side of the world that Leopold’s father had mentioned occasionally in his many stories.

Samuel waited for both to approach.  ‘Commander Riggadardian.  Lady Wind,’ he said in greeting as he nodded to each.

‘Lord Samuel, it is a pleasure to have you aboard the Farstride,’ the officer returned.  ‘I bid you welcome to my mighty warship.’  He did not look entirely earnest in his welcome.

The woman bowed her head deeply as she spoke, and closed her eyes for that initial moment.  ‘Likewise, Lord Magician, I am glad to see you once again.’  Her accent confirmed she was not indigenous to Amandia.  Unlike the commander, as the Turian language came hesitantly from her mouth, her words and motions conveyed sincerity.

Leopold almost expected a similar gesture of greeting from the magician, but he was without formalities.  ‘I will retire to my room,’ he said.  ‘We should be underway as soon as everything is ready,’ and he stepped past them, leaving Leopold amongst the strangers, devoid of what to say.

‘Welcome to you also,’ Commander Riggadardian said.  ‘You come in the company of the magician.  Are you … of his kind?’ the man asked hesitantly.

The fellow called Daneel laughed.  ‘What’s wrong with you, you blind old stoat?  Can you not see who stands before you?’

Riggadardian’s confusion only intensified, and he waited for Leopold’s response to clarify the matter.

‘I am not a magician,’ Leopold defended, insulted by the insinuation.  ‘I am Leopold.’

The commander was overwhelmed and dropped to one knee abruptly.  ‘Your Highness!’ he declared with awe.

Leopold was taken aback.

‘Come now, man,’ the one called Daneel said with mirth.  ‘Get a hold of yourself!  Don’t embarrass the lad!  Can’t you see him squirming?  Give him time to settle in.’

Riggadardian regained his feet, breathless with excitement.  ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ he declared.  ‘Forgive me.  I have looked forward to this moment for many years.  But ... why are you dressed like a commoner?  What is Captain Orrell doing?  Doesn’t he have any decency?’

‘It matters not, Commander,’ Leopold stated dismissively.  ‘I feel fine the way I am.’  Once more, he looked himself over.  ‘Is my choice of clothing not adequate?’

‘They are not suitable at all.  Perhaps acceptable for a lowly duke or earl, but for the Emperor, these are rags!  Who let you out like this?’

‘I think what Emperor Leopold means,’ Daneel said, intervening, ‘is that he is playing down his appearance for the sake of his security.’

A wave of realisation washed the dismay from the aging commander’s visage.  ‘Of course!  I should have known.  When safe at sea we can have your wardrobe sorted out properly.’  Another thought then drained his face of colour.  ‘Blast Captain Orrell!  Apologies, Your Majesty, we have no cabin reserved for you.  I am unsure what we can do,’ he stuttered.  ‘My my.  How deplorable!’

‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ the woman beside him urged.  ‘Don’t become so agitated.  That can be sorted in time.’

Riggadardian was placated by her words.  ‘Yes, yes.  I’m sure it can.  I am sure you do not remember me, Emperor Leopold, I saw you often when you were young.  I am the commander of this fleet and one of your few remaining officers.  Everyone else has fallen, or worse, fled.  What you are witnessing are the last remnants of your Empire.  The Nine Gods willing, if we are victorious in this battle you will be returned to your throne.  Cintar and the Empire will return to their glory.  Turia will reign again!’  Leopold remained speechless as the man fawned.  ‘Oh please, I forget my manners.  Let me introduce my wife—Lady Wind.  Through her efforts this magnificent vessel has been restored.’  The lady smiled, blushing, and granted Leopold a gracious bow.  ‘And who else have you brought with you?’

Leopold traced the man’s gaze to Salu rambling about the deck, Toby hopping behind.  ‘Two companions of Lord Samuel’s,’ was all he could think to say.  ‘I will leave it to him to explain.  I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘Then I doubt we will hear anything,’ Commander Riggadardian admitted bluntly.  ‘Never mind,’ he added with a sigh.  ‘We will take them in however we can.’  He then clicked his fingers towards a fellow lingering nearby.  ‘Lieutenant Fillius, prepare an extra two spaces.’

‘Yes, Commander.  Right to it!’ sprung the reply and the man in turn issued commands to other sailors beside him.

‘That is Lieutenant Fillius, the Captain’s Mate,’ Riggadardian explained.  ‘Mr Chapman is the bosun.  He’s ... there,’ he said, briefly searching for and pointing to a man shouting orders to the crew from afar.  The captain of the ship is Captain Merryweather.  I’m sure he’s below decks checking her over.  Between the three of them, they keep this ship operating smoothly.  I have the fine job of sitting back and watching them do it.’

‘Come now, Commander,’ Lady Wind said.  ‘You do much more than that.’

‘Yes, well,’ he chuckled humbly.

‘And what do you do?’ Leopold asked of Daneel.

The fellow retained his mischievous smile.  ‘What do I do?  What don’t I do?’

Leopold waited; Daneel said no more.

‘Oh,’ was Leopold’s stumped reply.

‘Riggadardian!’ came the call of the magician from afar and the commander spun about as if pulled by a rope attached to his hip.  ‘Bring my casket to my cabin at once.’

The commander kept his ear poised until he realised nothing more would be said, and he bellowed to the team at work on the black powder.  ‘You heard him.  And take care with it!  One scratch and I will point you out to you-know-who.’

Leopold knew at once to whom the commander was referring, as did his men.  The already-troubled crew looked terrified at the thought, mortified as they cast their eyes to the glossy black box being revealed beneath the barrels, and realised what it was.

****

It took several hours, but one by one the many vessels, great and small, set their sails and were away.  Once readied, the Farstride filled with calls and signs of activity.  Her enormous sails were unfurled by the teams of men hanging in the rigging and spread across the decks.  The squares of cloth fluttered and slapped tight one after another as they gathered the wind and the mighty ship pulled away, marking the start of its voyage to Cintar.

The Farstride had a remarkable number of masts—three enormous ones that raised up from the centre deck and five smaller ones—two at the front and three towards the rear—that poked up from the upper decks.  The central masts were towering giants, while the smaller ones matched the largest poles on regular vessels.  Leopold was familiar with the cut of the sails, with multiple square sheets on each mast, ranging from the largest mainsails near the base up to the smaller moonsails that hung from the tips of the masts.  In addition, the front of the ship bore a series of triangular jibs and the aft had a pair of spankers on manoeuvrable booms to match.  The setup allowed the ship maximum speed and she could cut mighty close to the wind before losing momentum, outsailing some of the smaller ships in the right conditions.

Leopold could not imagine the complications of navigating such a behemoth.  The number of crew needed to set sail was a sign of this, for the decks and rigging had been covered with men, nearly four hundred by his estimate, heaving thick ropes in tight synchronisation to the bosun’s calls, setting the sails in specific order and with exact timing.

It was a perfect task for the men of Turian navy, for if the Turians could do anything well, it was following procedures to precision.  Captain Merryweather, Lieutenant Fillius and Mister Chapman earned their keep, quickly and efficiently studying the changing situation and directing their multitudes of men accordingly.

Despite the immensity of the ship, space beneath the decks was limited.  Not only did the ship have to hold her own crew, she also had to carry soldiers to war.  Every free space had been packed with armoured men and their equipment.  Only the narrow passages between rooms were free, simply for the reason that if bodies filled them, no one would be able to pass, and that would cause bedlam for the operation of the ship.

As Emperor, Leopold was granted a spacious cabin in the enormous aftcastle—a three-storey construction, a fortified wooden keep straddling the rear of the ship.  A honeycomb of rooms filled the smaller forecastle, called the fo’c’sle by the men, with the flattened space of the main deck taking up the space between.  The substructure below was a hive of passageways and storerooms.  The Farstride was a veritable city crafted from wood and nails, bound within the confines of her curving hull.

The cabin was comfortable, not lavish, containing a bed, small desk and a set of drawers.  The rest of the space was vacant, with crewmen emptying the room of supplies and weaponry as his guide led him in.

Lieutenant Fillius was apologetic for the situation.

The man had badly scarred cheeks, marks from his youth, and wrinkles surrounded his eyes from spending many hours peering out to distance over sea.  His squarish face showed a trace of cheerfulness, concealing a considerate and reasonable man.  At first he had put poor old Salu and Toby into a galley full of soldiers, but on Leopold’s request had nodded thoughtfully and conceded, allowing them to share quarters with their Emperor.

A set of bunk beds were brought in and placed beside Leopold’s modest cot.  At least the two would not be cramped into the holds with countless others.  They had several small square windows to peep through and swing open to receive fresh air, unlike many of the rooms in the ship’s interior.

One of Riggadardian’s officers brought an assortment of clothing for Leopold to consider, taking three trips to carry it all in, piling it on the bed.  He knew he was supposed to look the part, but Leopold could not take the clothes seriously.  They were all too decorative and confusing; he was sure that some of them were designed for women.

Wigs, corsets, bows, ribbons and ten different pairs of tights, various jackets and ruffled blouses and things that looked half like jackets and half like shirts, as well as half a dozen strips of laced cloth of indeterminate purpose—bright and garish colours covered his bed.  Huffing, Leopold dumped them into the corner, fed up with it all.  He would let the commander rant and be done with it.  Besides, he was the Emperor now and who was to say what the Emperor should or should not wear.

Afterwards, stretching his legs and venturing along the narrow passageway outside his cabin, Leopold felt guilty as he peered into some of the other rooms.  Ten men or more shared the same space afforded him, jammed in against each other.  Still, if he was the Emperor then such a position should afford him some advantages.  And the men did not look to be suffering or unhappy, used to such conditions from their experiences at war, stoic and hardy.  At least, that’s what he told himself.

****

With nought to do and with the corridors too busy to comfortably explore, the three of them sat on their cots, Toby high on the top bunk happily swinging his legs above Salu.  They listened to the muffled sounds of men struggling outside with their loads and the various bangs and thuds that passed through the walls.

Leopold took the opportunity to sit opposite Salu, peering intently at him, trying to discern the extent of his madness.

‘Do you really have no grip on your senses?’ Leopold asked.

The old man rubbed the ball of one fist inside the other palm, mumbling, eyes shut, and lips quivering.  He ignored Leopold’s voice and muttered away.

Leopold turned his attention to the boy sitting above.  ‘And you, Toby—can you not say anything except your name?  How is it that you can get the old man moving when you barely understand us?’  In response, Toby laughed and clapped his hands together fiercely.  ‘Stop it now!’ Leopold told him sternly, for the boy was scrambling about on his bed with excitement, and the more frustrated Leopold became the more Toby enjoyed it, pointing and whooping.  Leopold turned away and let the boy quieten down of his own accord.

Leopold groaned and kicked his boots off, lying back on his bed.  He hoped this would be over soon so he could return to his home and comfort his mother.  He felt a foul mood overcoming him as his thoughts returned to the magician.  He had not yet found any way to get back at the man, but it was only a matter of time.  With Tulan’s help, he might not have to do anything at all.  In good time, he thought.  Patience is a virtue I am willing to learn.

A rumbling rattled through the ship and shook Leopold from his thoughts.  He stood and faced the window nearest his bed.  The Farstride had caught the rest of the fleet.  The ships were in full sail and he saw men on the decks of their vessels, clambering in the rigging.

He longed to get into the sails and handle the ropes.  The prospect of learning the workings of this colossus excited him.  He yearned to see the mechanisms that enabled its ingenious operation, the clever devices hidden away.  The logistics of raising either of the great anchors were unimaginable.

After staring out the window became stale, he returned to his bed with a sigh.

He thought someone may summon him to the deck; no one did, and it was Salu who led the way out of their little cabin, climbing to his feet after several hours had passed and shuffling out the door, one hand on his stick and the other feeling along the walls.  He looked ludicrous in his outfit and Leopold made a mental note to find the man some more practical clothing.

Toby dropped from the bunk before old Salu had gone too far and followed with a cheeky laugh.  He was garbed in his tiny suit, still enjoying it; he foraged inside his pockets incessantly, patting the stiff material with his hands, savouring its feel.

‘I may as well go, too,’ Leopold said aloud.  He sighed and pushed his feet into his new boots, and followed the other two outside and along the corridor.

****

The old man remembered the way, turning left and right and passing through doorways as appropriate, or else it was luck, because they were shortly stepping out onto the second storey balcony of the aftcastle.

They enjoyed the sunshine, sea air blowing in their faces and the sounds of the waves and the men busy on deck.  Leopold again took in the marvel of the vessel.

He spied Commander Riggadardian faraway upon the fo’c’sle, with Daneel and Captain Orrell beside him.  Leopold hurried down the stairs that led to the main deck and crossed the flat expanse of timber.  The place was heaving with activity, soldiers on deck filling every space that the sailors were not.  The sounds of men at work filled the air and the stiff wind made the many pennants and flags that decorated the ship whip about and dance excitedly.

Salu and Toby went off to seek amusement, while Leopold reached the fo’c’sle and climbed the stairs to the foredeck.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Captain Orrell greeted, noticing his approach.

The three men were looking over the mass of activity that was the main deck. Even upon the smaller fo’c’sle copious numbers of men were at work around the foremasts.

Leopold nodded to the captain in return, overawed with the scene.  Captain Orrell returned to conversation with Daneel, the one-eyed man glancing towards Leopold only momentarily.  Only Commander Riggadardian broke free to grant Leopold his full attention.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Riggadardian hailed solemnly.  ‘It will be some time until we reach our destination.  It might be better if you remain in your cabin.  It can be hazardous up here.  The Farstride is essentially untested and we do suffer the occasional mishap.’

‘I will die from boredom in my cabin, Commander.  I want to see how things are faring out here.’

‘Very well,’ Riggadardian said graciously.  ‘Your father would never be stowed away in his room, either.  That reminds me, I do have something special for you.’

Leopold had not noticed an extra sword hanging from the commander’s hip, and the man quickly unfettered one and handed it over, homed within its elaborately embellished scabbard.  Leopold accepted it reluctantly, for he did not know how to hold it.  He had heard of swords in his father’s tales, but the closest he came to wielding one was waving a stick in childhood games.

‘Why ... thank you,’ was all he could think to say, turning the gift over in his hands.

‘This was your father’s sword,’ Riggadardian informed him.  ‘I see the regal attire I left for you did not meet your approval.  Unfortunate.  But it would bolster the men’s morale if you carried your father’s noble blade.  Countless victories were won with it.  Your father never commanded his battles from afar, preferring to join the fray.  That is why his armies fought beneath him so valiantly.  He would wrench the limbs from his opponents—’  He stopped himself, realising he had become overexcited.

Leopold held the hilt in one hand and the scabbard in the other and readied to draw the weapon free.  Captain Orrell took notice and snapped it from him before an inch of blade was revealed.

‘You damned fool, Riggadardian,’ he said.  ‘He’ll cut his own hands off with that.  Can’t you see he doesn’t know one end from the other?’

Riggadardian looked dismayed and disappointed.  ‘Oh, I didn’t ...’ he began, trailing off.  ‘Perhaps he can wear it for show—’

‘He can do without,’ Orrell asserted.  ‘We do not want him waving it about and hurting himself.  No offence, Your Majesty, I can certainly arrange lessons for you.  Putting such a weapon in unskilled hands is asking for trouble.  Commander, if you want him to look the part of an emperor, send someone to his cabin to help him put on his clothes the way you want.  You have to remember, he has never seen the likes of any of this before.’

Riggadardian nodded thoughtfully.  ‘You are right, of course, Captain.  I did not stop to think.  My mind is on the coming battle.  I apologise, Your Majesty.’

‘It’s nothing, Commander,’ Leopold said, wanting to keep the sword.

‘Take my dagger for the time being,’ Riggadardian offered.

Orrell stilled the man’s hand before it reached to his side.

‘He can do without that too, Commander,’ the captain said.  ‘With all these men around us, the young Emperor has ample protection.  Everyone knows who he is, even without something sharp in his hand.  There will be time enough for that later.’

Daneel watched on, entertained by the verbal exchange of the other two.  ‘Perhaps he could order an execution,’ he suggested lightheartedly.  ‘That would certainly convince everyone he is his father’s son.’

Scathingly, the commander frowned and Captain Orrell regretfully shook his head.

‘That’s enough of that, Daneel,’ the captain rebuked, and the one-eyed man bowed his head with mock regret, unable to resist a cheeky grin.

‘Very well,’ Riggadardian conceded, focussing instead on Leopold.  ‘I will send someone to your cabin to help you choose appropriate clothing for the voyage.  Once the battle is over and we have some time on our hands, we will arrange to school you in swordplay, battlefield tactics and strategies of war ... the rules of engagement and so forth—and whatever else you may require.  Yes, much to be done in future days.’

‘I agree,’ Captain Orrell proclaimed.

Leopold had no complaints and left the men to their business.  He roved the extents of the ship’s upper decks, rounding its perimeter and examining all the deck-side equipment that he had never seen before.  There were blocks and pulleys, cleats and shackles, chainplates and turnbuckles, coils and lengths of rope in all directions, from thin cord to heavy sheets as thick as his arm, running from every part of the ship to every other like a tangle of spider webs.  There was so much rope stowed upon the deck and spanning the heights that, laying it end to end, they could probably loop the end around his mother and pull her aboard.  The amount of work that had gone into building such a vessel was inconceivable.

Despite the magnificence, the new sights and sounds soon lost their attraction and Leopold was left wandering back to his cabin.

Unsurprisingly, when he arrived, his father’s sword and scabbard were awaiting him, laid out neatly upon his bed.

****

It took three days before the call sounded that the towers of Cintar were in sight, and Leopold scuttled down from the masts of the Farstride, climbing down the ropes and webbing to alight on the deck.

He had spent the time learning the workings of the sails—much to Commander Riggadardian’s displeasure.  The man had objected loudly at the idea and, when he caught Leopold climbing into the sails when his back was turned, he was distraught.  It was Captain Orrell who calmed him and Leopold was glad for it, for otherwise he would have gone mad from boredom.

With the help of the amenable Captain Merryweather—a tall and capable fellow—Leopold obtained a standard crew outfit, more suited to clambering the sails than his tight-fitting emperor’s wear.  The crew gave him questioning glances at first, and some yelled at him to get down before he broke his neck.  When he put his attention to the ropes and showed aptitude for the task, the men noticed, approving.

Leopold asked them genuine, insightful questions about the workings of the ship, and they answered him with enthusiasm.  He caught several of them laughing to each other and looking towards him.  They never imagined their Emperor would one day be hanging beside them amongst the sails.  Leopold thought being in the sails was quite natural, it was being an emperor that felt unusual.

Whenever Leopold was not in the sails, he humoured Commander Riggadardian by wearing one of the regal outfits organised for him.  The white pants were not to his taste, while the jacket—decorated with the finest golden-threaded needlework—was quite handsome.  Of all the clothing supplied to him, this was the only item he found appealing.

Now, as Cintar came into view, Leopold returned to his cabin, changed into that one endurable suit, and strapped on his father’s sword as well as he could.  He hurried onto the deck, where the grey-blue spires of the city were visible in the hazy distance.  Despite his promises to keep both feet firmly on the decking when in his regal wear, he tiptoed up the first few rungs of a nearby rope ladder to gain a better view.

Lord Samuel, cloaked in customary black, appeared for the first time in days and stalked the foredeck to be beside Daneel, Captain Orrell and Commander Riggadardian as their fleet neared the city.  Sailors and soldiers fled before him, creating a perpetual zone of emptiness around his girth that followed him across the decking.

As the bay came into sight, Captain Merryweather made the call to furl the sails and lay anchor.  The other ships had already slowed, while the Farstride took by far the longest time to release the wind and rein in her vast momentum.  Everything was done in its proper order, lest the forces harnessed by the vessel tear her apart.  The teams acted methodically, shouting out in time to their work, lowering the yards and bundling the sails tightly one after another.

When they were positioned safely outside the rocks of the harbour with their nose pointing in, Merryweather commanded they hold their position.

A tremendous boom sounded as the two almighty anchors dropped from their housings, racing into the blue depths and dragging the links of enormous chain rattling behind.

Leopold had seen the mechanisms that controlled the colossal weights, hidden below the decks in two separate compartments where they could be engaged.  If anyone ventured too near to those workings while in operation, they could be snapped up by the spinning cogs or levers and eviscerated in an instant.  The men that tended the anchor housings had seen a fellow pulled in during testing and they warned Leopold sternly to keep his distance.  The mess they described helped him to remember their advice.

The dark rocks that protected the harbour dwelt in front, soaked in milky plumes of spray that jetted up as waves rolled into each in turn.  Beyond that, within the safety of the bay, many ships lay in wait, aligned and readied to defend the city.  Behind them, the walls of Cintar rose, vast and impenetrable.  Half the coast lay enshrouded by that towering stone barrier.  Leopold was in awe of such immense constructions.  Steeples peeked above them, along with the palace and its towers.

Striking up from the centre of the city, the grand palace was a marvel of pointed roofs and architectural splendour.  Seakeep’s stony slab had prepared Leopold for more of the same, but the beauty of the coloured palace—as much as he could see—was breathtaking.

A variety of towers pointed to the sky around it: thick, thin, squarish, round.  One stood out, impossibly high, so thin and narrow as it raised towards the sky that Leopold thought it should topple over.  Then, looking to the other towers, he realised it was broader than all of them and only its incredible height made it appear so narrow.  Breathtaking.

Having grazed his eyes upon the features of the city, his attention ventured to the landscape on either side.  The ground was teeming with soldiers, which shocked Leopold, for he now realised their puny force of men and ships, as formidable as he thought it was, did not compare to what they faced.  They should retreat before they foolishly angered the expectant hordes.  A few beetles could not overthrow an ants’ nest.

‘We have not surprised them,’ Captain Orrell announced.  ‘They knew we were coming.’

‘Of course,’ the magician replied dispassionately.

‘Where have they come from?’ Riggadardian asked in disbelief.  ‘There was nothing like this in our reports.  The Order should be scattered all over the country.  We must retreat, before it is too late!’

‘Calm now, Commander,’ Lord Samuel told him.  ‘I will even the odds for you.’

‘So what shall we do?’ Riggadardian went on.  ‘We can fight our way into the harbour, but even if we get to the walls it will be pointless.  We must be outnumbered a hundred to one!’

‘A thousand to one, or more,’ Daneel corrected, the scene having stolen away his characteristic smile.

Samuel, momentarily lost in thought, responded to the commander’s question.  ‘Keep your fleet away from the rocks.  Do not let them be drawn in.  I will signal when it is safe to move.’

A laugh sounded beside them and the four turned their heads to find Toby at their side, climbed onto the railing and peering away with a look of mirth.  It appeared he was pointing to the city.  On closer inspection his joy was caused by a nearby gull floating upon the sea and calling with its squeaky, adolescent voice.  He was not interested in the spectacle of Cintar or armies; the bird was far more appealing.

‘Get that foolish boy down from there,’ Samuel muttered.  ‘Captain, get your men to lock him in his room.  Let them beat him if he gives any bother.  And look for the old man as well.  If the boy’s here, he won’t be far, doddering about and readying to give us trouble.’

Orrell nodded and set men to the task.  Most of the soldiers were dressed ready for war, donning their armour trimmed with Imperial gold and blue, crowding the decks expectantly.  Toby giggled as he was carried away to his room, a wriggling pillow in the man’s arms.

Moments later the soldiers found Salu and were coaxing the obstinate fellow from his hiding spot, pulling him by the arms.  Leopold had found a simple set of dull brown garments for the old man, and Salu no longer itched and scratched at himself so often.  He moved along with them, protesting vocally, although unintelligibly, and waving his stick above their heads.

With the disruption over, Leopold’s attention returned to the bay.

A few defending craft inside the safe haven were moving out towards their fleet.  The bulk, however, waited in place.

‘What are they up to?’ Riggadardian asked.

Daneel was the one to answer.  ‘I’d wager they are hoping to lure us in closer, where they can pick us apart at their leisure.  See?  The smaller ships are bait to tempt us.’

‘Or they could be waiting for commands from their queen,’ Captain Orrell added.  ‘She speaks directly into the ears of her troops.  They do not use horns or signals of any kind; at least, none we have observed.’

‘What is he doing?’ Leopold asked of the captain beside him, for Lord Samuel had raised his chin to the sky and closed his eyes, basking in the face of the sun.

‘He is preparing.  There will be a spell,’ Orrell whispered back, looking to the heavens in search for what might be transpiring there.

Leopold followed the captain’s gaze, and saw nothing unusual—a few wisps of white cloud curling about in the blue.

‘The witch is here,’ Samuel said, opening his eyes and levelling his gaze.  ‘She has heard my call and retaliates; my assault will be first to arrive.’

‘What assault?’ Leopold asked, looking around in confusion.  No one else displayed concern that nothing was happening.

‘Patience, young Emperor,’ Samuel told him.  ‘The greatest spells take time to be known.’

Long silent minutes passed before the sound of murmuring rose across the men.  Cries of excitement sounded from the other ships.  Soldiers pressed in crowds to the handrails of the Farstride and those on the other vessels did the same, looking in every direction, searching.  Many were peering below into the depths, many more were shouting and pointing towards the reef.

The rocks were growing out of the sea, rising up to block their view of the harbour like extending, blackened teeth; rather, it became evident the ocean was receding.  Wide expanses of wet rock were already exposed, water pouring off them, creating multitudes of white cataracts.

Leopold wondered if their ships would be grounded, but the sea was deep here beneath their hull.

Inside the harbour however, the defending ships were quickly running short of clearance.  Those closest to shore were already catching on bare sand and the vessels were tipping onto their sides with a groan of wood and shouts from their crews, some smashing over into each other.  The retreating sea sank back rapidly.  Those few ships that had come to lure them still had water beneath their keels, but they were racing the tide, trying to escape from the bay before it emptied altogether.

Two were not quick enough.  They struck the sea floor and toppled, then disappeared as the retreating water foamed over them, dragging and rolling them, tumbling them to pieces.  The two remaining vessels were nearly free, but their predicament was equally precarious.  The water was pulling them faster as it shallowed, squeezing out between the various rocks that edged the bay.  The sea surged on the far side of the reef and the ships were thrown upon them.  The crews yelled in fear as their vessels crashed and men jumped for their lives.  Some made it to the rocks, but slipped on the treacherous stone and vanished into the boiling tide.

Somehow, one solitary figure survived, clambering up from the far side onto the dry of the rocks and shaking his fist towards Riggadardian’s fleet.

Back towards the shore, the harbour bottom was now bared, and hundreds of men had fallen or jumped from their tipped vessels, left staring at their ships in confusion, standing in shin-deep puddles.  Countless fish and various sea creatures thrashed and wiggled upon the sand, and closer to the rocks, pastures of dark-green seaweed had been revealed, fallen flat and glistening in the sun.

‘But without any water how can we approach the city?’ Leopold asked aloud.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lord Samuel told him.  ‘I do not take without giving.  The water will return soon enough.’

Another bout of murmuring spread across the ships.  Sailors have keen senses when it comes to movements upon the water, and they were wary of the unusual.  Chains rattled and men held on tightly as their craft became agitated by something moving unseen below them.  The Farstride barely stirred, yet the men fell quiet in response to her timbers creaking ominously beneath their feet.

The ship groaned and shifted, then gave a sudden jerk as the anchor lines pulled tight.  Something was dragging them forward.

‘The sea!’ came a cry.  ‘It returns!’

And the man was right; the ocean was hauling itself back towards the shore—a mass of crushing water, sliding landwards ... immense and unstoppable.  It was not a wave, for a wave rose and fell.  This was the ocean shifting eastwards as one vast body.

The disturbance was less pronounced where it was deep, but closer to the rocks the effect was immediately apparent.  The sea returned, surging and rushing over the rocks.  The lone survivor turned to run, but had nowhere to go.  He disappeared behind a veil of jetting spray.

Leopold clutched onto the side of the Farstride.  Being on such a great ship did little to comfort him in the sight of such danger.

‘Stop shaking like a little girl, Leopold,’ the magician told him.  ‘It’s time to be a man.  People are watching you and their faith rides on your strength.  Your mother is not here; you have no skirts to hide behind.’

‘That’s fine for you to say, Magician.  You have your magic.  I have…’ and he struggled to find something he could use for example.  He shook one arm towards the man.  ‘Puffy sleeves!’

‘Fear is natural, Leopold, but you make a conscious decision to be afraid.  It is not forced upon you.  You choose to engage your feelings, whether you know it or not.  Your emotions can trap you, yet they are cages of mist and smoke.  You can break through easily enough, Leopold, if only you try.  That is your lesson for today.  Consider it well.’

‘Oh, I will,’ Leopold retorted sarcastically.

Lord Samuel frowned.  ‘And don’t call me Magician.  Remember your promise, Leopold.  I don’t like to be disappointed.’

Leopold grunted and returned his attention to the unfolding spectacle of the sea’s return.  At least Samuel’s lecture had cured him of his anxiety.  His fear of the tide was insignificant compared to his detestation of the magician.  So be it!  I hope the anchors break and we are dashed upon the rocks.  Anything to be rid of that damned magician!

The distant figures of the men upon the dry seabed had noticed the ocean’s approach and they could be seen in a panic, insects attempting to flee.  They could not outrun the sea, and as it bore down on them, it gathered speed, with its front edge building into a thundering wall of white water.  It swallowed the fallen ships and smothered the men, continuing towards the city unabated.  It hit the port, and the jetties vanished beneath an avalanche of foam.

An incessant, distant roar was the only sound throughout.  Lengths of timber exploded silently into the air.  The sea continued its charge unchallenged and it struck the great walls of Cintar with all its might.  Only then was its fury turned aside.

Titanic jets of spray launched into the air and the initial surge licked halfway up the walls.  Leopold expected the weight of the sea to pound the walls to rubble, but the barrier remained sound.  The sea continued pouring into the bay, surging in and growing higher by the moment, but it turned at the walls, having met its equal, foaming and rushing to either side, washing up and around the city.  It pushed inwards, climbing over every speck of land unto the base of the distant foothills at the edge of the plain.

The bay had disappeared; the surrounding land had vanished.  Everything around Cintar had been engulfed by the risen sea, an island City within the haven of its walls.

Leopold considered climbing up onto one of the mastheads to gain a better view, for men hung from every raised space to observe the scene.  Looking at his clothes, he decided no.  He would catch himself on a ruffle or a shoulder pad and fall to his death.

‘The queen’s armies on the plain will be decimated,’ Captain Orrell said to the group.

‘They have perished already,’ Samuel said.  ‘She had gathered them close to the city where they could be most intimidating.  None made it to the hills.  Her forces have now been halved.  The remainder survive inside the walls.  I will let the witch have her turn before I move my attention to them.  Her response is gathering.  The wind will rise.  I will meet it.  We must be prepared to sail in immediately after.  Have your men tie everything down—firmly.  Prepare for a storm of the fiercest kind.’

Riggadardian took that as a signal to prepare, and he marched up and down the deck, urgently shouting commands.  Captain Merryweather hurried over at the noise and the two spoke excitedly.  Merryweather began shouting instructions as well, filled with dread.  Mister Chapman bellowed furiously, standing tall to fill his lungs and deafening the crew with his cries.

Every loose object was dragged away and the men strapped the sails into place, doubling and redoubling the cords around each roll of cloth, like rows of bound corpses strung beneath the spars.  As they finished, the teams of men assembled in their lines and clusters, in specific spots across the deck.  The soldiers marched in an orderly manner below, along with most of the crew.  Some remained in the rigging above, dutifully awaiting their orders, despite the peril.

Again, the sailors had the keenest eyes and they spotted the first signs before anyone else.  Their calls rang out, and Leopold followed their pointed fingers to the distant inland sky, where voluminous clouds were accumulating into one enormous clot of grey and black that rolled in from over the far hills.  It lined the entire coast and its shadow sent the earth dark.  Billowing forward, its leading edge formed a sheer mountainous wall.  On top, enormous clumps were sprouting, spreading up and out in hushed detonation.  It did not look turbulent, indeed its size made it appear serene as it calmly pelted towards them.

‘What, by all the dead gods, is that?’ Captain Orrell said in awe.

‘A storm front,’ the magician replied.  ‘Keep alert.’

‘I have never seen a storm such as that,’ Riggadardian gasped.

‘That’s right.  You haven’t,’ Lord Samuel agreed with finality.

The sea settled back into place, easing itself from the reef and rocks.  A lake remained on the plain, and as the water retreated into the harbour, it resembled a great draining delta, carrying endless streams of detritus with it.  Water poured from around the city and would continue to do so for days to come.

The bay had calmed, leaving great holes ripped in the reef, revealing the mangled shape of the rocks.  The force of the water had carved up the stone and the harbour would never be as calm, having lost much of its defences.

The pennants and flags across the Farstride stopped flapping and fell dead as the wind lulled.  Across the other boats beside and behind them, the same occurred, for the air had stilled.  Then, the cloth sprang back into life, leaping in the opposite direction and pointing out to sea as the wind sprang up from the coast.  The breeze was stiff, yet they all knew it would grow stronger still as the storm approached.

Something caught Leopold’s eye, dark shapes flitting amongst the towers of Cintar.  He had heard mention of the hellish beasts the witch had summoned to do her foul work.  As he narrowed his eyes and strained to see, they disappeared within the shadow of the creeping cloud.

A sudden increase in the magnitude of the wind sent everyone staggering.  Riggadardian’s hat flew away, along with those of many of the crew.  The metal helms of the soldiers remained tightly in place, but the men looked about with worry—those few that dared remain on deck.  The air howled and any rope or line not taut juddered violently.  Objects thought safe or having been neglected—lanterns and buckets especially—leapt from their pegs and holding places and smashed or raced across the deck.  Streams of litter flew out to sea.

‘Get everyone below,’ Lord Samuel commanded, peering discontentedly at the men in sight, and Riggadardian reacted immediately, relaying the message to Captain Merryweather.

Those crew in the rigging were called down—spiders blown about in their webs.  They came down carefully in the high wind, and Leopold caught sight of one fellow plummeting—his cries lost in the gale.  Thankfully, he fell into the sea rather than colliding with the deck and others were at work fishing him out as he hit the water.  The last of the crew retreated below, peering out from within the doorways and hatches, ready to react upon command.  The decks of the Farstride lay deserted, save Lord Samuel and the tiny cluster around him.

Lady Wind made a transient appearance from afar, venturing from the safety of the aftcastle.

‘Get back below, you foolish woman!’ Riggadardian yelled towards her, but the sound was strangled as it left his mouth.  Finally, struggling against the wind, she turned about and disappeared of her own accord.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Captain Orrell called loudly from one step away, straining to be heard.  ‘You go back to your room, too,’ but Samuel’s hand clamped down upon Leopold’s shoulder.

‘He is safer with me,’ the magician said calmly, and Orrell nodded without question, leaving Leopold to remain between them.

The cloud was now halfway across the bay and the sea danced beneath its shadow, agitated and excited.  The wind curled and twisted, forced into chaos by the weight of the cloud.  Water leapt and droplets defied gravity, forming streams of spray, racing and spiralling into the heavens.

‘There!’ Daneel called, for several such fairies had joined to make a tight grey spiral.

A cone of wind and water had gathered, and it gyrated madly, stretching a twisted blade of vapour towards the fuelling mass above.  The water devil thickened at its base, gathering seawater, forming a monstrous vortex five Farstrides wide.  Others came into being alongside, advancing side by side.

All along the shadow’s edge they formed, closing on the fleet like giants marching to war.  The roaring noise was ungodly, sucking and squelching, but the cloud was ominously quiet as it continued towards them, dragging its turbulent payload below, closing in to deliver chaos.

‘Lord Samuel!’ Riggadardian said, full of dismay, but the magician said and did nothing.

The five of them were the only ones left upon the deck of the mighty Farstride, for even Captain Merryweather and Mister Chapman had sheltered nearby, their faces looking out from their hatch with worry.  Nothing could withstand the bedlam that approached.  Even the mighty Farstride was but a fistful of sticks compared to such intense forces.

Daneel looked aghast, clutching onto the side of the ship and squinting against the wind with his single eye.

The great spout in front hit the reef and tore up the rocks.  Dark hunks spiralled inside the vortex and pieces fired out at height and rained down, crashing into the sea.  Fragments struck the deck of the Farstride, smashing holes, and the other ships of the fleet sustained similar damage.

All this and still the magician did nothing to protect them.

Rain fell, suddenly battering them in heavy, swirling sheets that rose and fell in ferocity with the wind.  Leopold licked his lips, salty from the seawater being sucked up and spewed out by the gyres.

Dangerously, several ships had strayed closer to land and a neighbouring waterspout approached them.  The noise of the water devils was already overwhelming, but as they neared they thundered and howled louder still.

‘We’re going to lose those ships!’ Daneel called out, watching the men panic upon the deck.

‘Yes,’ Samuel responded calmly.

‘Why don’t you do something, Magician?’ Leopold shouted.

The black-cloaked man looked at him scathingly.  ‘Lord Magician.’

‘Damn you!’ Leopold yelled back.  ‘This is no time for such nonsense!’

‘The witch is waiting for me,’ Lord Samuel spoke without hurry.  Despite their words struggling against the wind, he spoke softly, and was heard clearly by all.  ‘I cannot appear too strong.  Not yet.  I will cast her fury back upon her ... soon enough.’

Leopold was flabbergasted.  He felt helpless as the grey edge of the funnel met the first ship to their left and half the vessel disintegrated.  The front section exploded into shreds that tore away with the wind.  The rest of the ship lurched, momentarily freed from the embrace of the monster that had gripped it.  The waterspout continued forward, taking hold of the remains, clambering over them and methodically tearing the ship apart.  Men jumped into the sea, lost in the wind and spray—their fates uncertain.

The captain on one of the two-masted brigs alongside the Farstride—the Grey Gull—must have lost his nerve, for his men unfurled the sails to escape.  No sooner had the cloth unravelled than it tore from the rigging and raced into the storm, wrenching away the supporting spars with them, leaving the ship defenceless.

Slowly, with indifference, another gyre further along devoured a ship completely.

The nearest maelstrom was nearly upon the Farstride and the wind turned abruptly sideways just before it hit.  The column of water raced around the core, about to engulf them.

‘Samuel!’ Captain Orrell bellowed above the noise, his mouth close to the magician’s ear.  ‘Do something before we are lost!’

The magician did not seem to hear him.  They kept a firm hold of the railing to keep their footing.  All except Samuel, who stood freely.  Apart from his cloak standing from his body, he was untouched by the wind—unaware of its existence.  He did not blink or shield his eyes.  He watched on sedately, observing the raging wall of spinning chaos as if appreciating some extraordinary, delicate work of art.

‘Samuel!’ Daneel, too, shouted, holding on for dear life and looking ill with dread.

Leopold could not hear the magician’s response, but he could swear the word wonderful passed the man’s lips.  Indeed, the magician was mesmerised by the pandemonium about to engulf them, as if relishing a tragic end for them all.

Nothing was visible except a wall of screaming wind and water.  The world was obscured by spray and vapour.  Leopold would have run screaming if it not meant letting go of the sturdy handrail.

Desperately, Captain Orrell prised himself from the railing, grabbed Samuel by his robes and shook him.  ‘By the gods, Samuel, do something!  We cannot help you save your precious son if we are all dead!  Do something now!’

The Farstride was listing to the right and heaving at her anchors under the strain.  The tip of the vessel met the vortex and the protruding bowsprit was whipped away and vanished.

At that, Samuel awakened from his stupor, and raised both his arms wide in praise to the heavens.  His sleeves rippled with the wind, baring his pale arms to the elbows.  Captain Orrell stepped back and retook his hold on the ship, for Samuel’s eyes were wide with madness, and the air became laden with energy.  Droplets of moisture leapt from the handrails and shivered a finger’s breadth above the deck, held aloft by an unseen force that coursed through the timber.

A blast of air struck from behind.  The fleet shuddered and the Farstride rocked forward with a resounding moan.  Their anchors held, but the change in the wind pushed them nearer to danger, for in being set straight, the Farstride was shoved into the embrace of the spout.  They crashed through the wall of grey, and Leopold thought them doomed, but the funnel evaporated upon contact, snaking into the sky in retreat.  The salty rain ceased and the world materialised as the spray settled.  Along the storm front, the other water devils had likewise been reduced to slivers withdrawing into the clouds.

Wreckage scarred the sea where ships had previously existed, and scores of bodies filled the water.  The wind maintained a stiff breeze from the west, but up high it still blew wildly.  The immense cloud over them no longer appeared serene.  It churned in turmoil as it crumpled, folding inwards upon itself, reversing its path and heading back for land.

Samuel lowered his arm.  He continued staring towards the city, as if steering the thunderhead with his gaze.

‘About time, Magician!’ Daneel said, adjusting his eyepatch and pushing his clothes back into place.  His fern green cape was wrapped in wet knots, dangling miserably over his shoulder until he flicked it behind him.  ‘I thought our adventure was already at its end.’

‘Not yet,’ Lord Samuel spoke.  ‘Commander, ready the fleet.’

Riggadardian was recovering from the ordeal, but Samuel’s words had him finding his wits.  He stammered commands to Captain Merryweather, being one of the first to appear, and the man repeated them at a holler.

His crew poured from the many doors that led from below decks and they swarmed the ladders and rope webbing.  Others went to their ropes or positions and worked with faultless Turian precision, heaving and hauling in time to Mister Chapman’s barking calls.  Soldiers swamped the decks with their numbers, flowing out of every entrance and hatchway in orderly queues.  On the other vessels, the command was likewise relayed and the ships pulled their anchors and readied their sails in anticipation of the assault.

‘Beware the rocks!’ Riggadardian bellowed, for broken stones thrust up from the mouth of the unsettled ocean.  He looked to Lord Samuel for confirmation.  The magician’s simple nod gave the order, and Riggadardian roared, ‘Advance!’

‘Advance!’ Merryweather echoed and Lieutenant Fillius sent a row of bright triangular banners along one of the guy ropes—green, red and yellow in turns.  The fleet made headway, readied in remarkable time after the turning of the storm.

The smaller vessels were first to move and they fought their way into the bay, pursued by the galleons and other larger craft.  The water remained upset and the tide was moving against them, but the wind blowing stiffly at their backs saw them safely into the harbour, with the great mass of the Farstride prowling behind.

Far away, the storm cloud was firmly over Cintar and grey tendrils appeared.  They explored their way down, criss-crossing and interweaving, feeling their way.  From this distance, it appeared tranquil as the holocaust of wind descended.

It was as if some irresistible melody, unheard by human ear, fell upon the city.  Giant butterflies peeled away from the rooftops, following each other in a delicate airborne dance; but then Leopold realised they were the rooftops, fluttering away into the air one after another.  The roofs and other objects had forgotten their earthbound nature and one by one they joined the aerial ballet.  They contorted and circled, listless gulls playing upon the columns of air, moving faster and faster as they gathered tighter, abruptly passing some hidden threshold and shooting into the heavens.

It became apparent the scene was not so serene when some of the floating specks proved to be people.  Some flailed shortly before going limp, flotsam upon a whirling tide.

One fluted spout ran jet black with debris as the large chunks of stone and wood it devoured were shredded in its belly and torn into shrapnel.  Occasionally, large lengths of wall and unidentifiable structures were thrown clear; returned to the grip of gravity and falling upon the city, spawning pandemonium underneath.

As the Farstride closed upon the defensive walls, the roar of the twisters was beginning to be heard.

‘Leopold, can you see it?’ the magician Samuel said beside him, his voice filled with awe.  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘It’s hideous,’ Leopold replied.

‘But you are only looking with your eyes,’ the magician said, not taking his gaze from the scene.  ‘To me, such power is breathtaking.  Such carnage is the music of existence.  I see the birth of the universe playing out before me.’  He looked lost in his thoughts, then blinked and looked to those beside him as if returning to his senses.  ‘Now.  Let me see how much she appreciates the gift I have returned to her.  Watch!  There is more.’

The tendrils receded, climbing and coiling back into the cloud.  Leopold thought the worst was over, but the onslaught was not finished.  A single boom sounded from above, as if some mountainous cogs had thundered into play, and the centre of the cloud descended, twisting like a giant corkscrew made of tarnished cotton, the puckering foot of a great sky bound limpet reaching down to latch upon the earth.

From this far away, the settling pillar of grey was turning, laboriously slow, but the size was deceiving.  It was one mighty weapon of air, and it fell upon the city, fitting neatly inside the perimeter of the walls and grinding down, mashing buildings to rubble.  Clouds of dust and destruction billowed.  Beyond that, everything was a mystery.

It lasted a few minutes, then another great clatter sounded from the heavens and the cloud lost its intensity.  The grey column fell into the city, a curtain of rain snipped from above.

‘Ah,’ Samuel said.  ‘It took her some time, but she finally figured out the best way to end this nonsense.’

Without the storm cell at its work, the scene had fallen uncomfortably quiet.  Only the wind and the sounds of the ship in the water now carried in the air.  Men hesitated to speak, awestruck with the destruction they had witnessed.

As the gloom above the city cleared, Leopold was surprised to see that the palace and its towers remained standing.  Plumes of smoke rose from everywhere within the walls of Cintar, snaking into the agitated air.

No ships were left to face them as they closed upon the missing docks, and the fleet readied their longboats and other landing craft to take the army to shore.  Soldiers packed the deck shoulder to shoulder in wait; primed for battle, silent, anticipant.  Some of them had casks of red and black strapped tightly upon their backs, looking understandably more nervous than the others.

The command was given and the craft were hastily lowered.  Soldiers swarmed over the sides, descending the netting and packing into the boats.  When each was filled, they started off in droves, navigating the sea of bodies and broken wood to get ashore.

Above, the thunderhead now departed, wandering down the coast as it collapsed into a string of thinning rain clouds.

‘Will you take down the wall?’ Leopold asked of the magician, but the man shook his head, still distracted by things unseen.

‘I have other things to deal with.  Captain Orrell,’ Lord Samuel said and the wily captain awaited further address.  ‘Breach the port gate, but save as many barrels of black powder as you can for the High Tower.’

‘Samuel, but why?’ the man said, perplexed.  ‘This is not what we discussed.  You said to save what remained for General Ruardin.’

‘I have not changed my mind.  Just do as I say.  If you want your victory, the tower must fall.’

‘How are we to make it all the way into the palace?’ the captain said in protest.

‘You will have to make do as best you can.  I will be busy, but I will lend my aid if I can.’

‘But can we not parley with General Ruardin?’ Riggadardian asked expectantly.  ‘You’ve said he has become a monster, but I cannot believe he could have changed so much.  I’ve known him my whole life, and there was never a more steadfast Turian alive.  He would die before giving an inch to that traitorous witch that now commands him.’

‘His loyalty was his downfall, Commander,’ Samuel replied.  ‘Rei trapped the good general with his own dedication to the Empire.  Believe me, you would not recognise the man.  What you knew of the good general is lost, buried within a hardened shell of regret and denial.’

The commander nodded thoughtfully, relaying instructions to his subordinates—always within arm’s length in case they were needed.

‘Commander,’ the magician then called, summoning Riggadardian to his side.  ‘I cannot take young Leopold with me, but it is most important that he be guarded closely.  I feel the witch nearby, but I am not sure where.  She clouds her presence, and it worries me.  I am hesitant to leave him, but I must face her alone.’

‘Of course,’ Riggadardian replied.  ‘You men, take him below.  Guard him with your lives.  Daneel, do what you must.’

‘Yes, Commander!’ the nearby soldiers replied in chorus and Daneel nodded solemnly.

Leopold was herded back to his room as the battle looked set to begin.  He had no choice and followed the men glumly.  Daneel trailed behind, his hand firmly on the blade handle at his hip.  His eye was busy searching every man they passed, looking for anything out of place.

****

Salu was sitting on his bed, looking at his bare toes and idly tapping the floor with his stick.  Toby had pushed a chair beneath one of the windows and was squeezing his head out to see the view.  He made erratic noises of excitement and whooped, but Leopold had no idea over what—another gull perhaps; possibly even a tern.

Leopold wandered the room impatiently and aimlessly picked up his father’s sword, reaffixing its scabbard to his belt.  He strode up and down a few times, discontent with how it slapped his thigh, adjusting it accordingly.  Riggadardian had also left him a short dagger in a leather pouch, which he attached beside the larger blade.

He had tried sticking his head out the window to see what was happening, but could see nothing of interest from this vantage point.

Riggadardian’s men waited in the doorway behind him, more huddled in the hall.  They were protecting him with enthusiasm, as if standing in that passageway was of supreme importance, and they looked at him expectantly any time he glanced their way.  He wanted them to go away.  He had told them numerous times already.  It was pointless.  With a sigh, Leopold resigned himself to the fact he would spend the duration of the battle in his cabin, idling away the time.

Some resounding booms issued from far away and Leopold wondered if it was the magician at work or if it was the sound of the black powder in use.  He was standing at the window once more, when he realised Salu was at his side, pressed up against him.  The man had moved quickly and quietly, Leopold not even noticing him in transit.

Before Leopold could speak, Salu raised one hand and latched onto his shoulder tightly, crushing the joint.  He kept his other hand firmly on his stick, bent over as he was, but the weight on Leopold’s shoulder was crippling.

‘Ow!’ Leopold complained and he was about to twist out of the old man’s grip when Salu said something that made him listen.

‘Hold still, boy!’ the old man hissed.  ‘She comes!’

‘What was that?’ Leopold asked, for he was not sure if he heard correctly.  What madness was the old man spouting?

Salu cocked his head slightly to one side, eyes still shut, listening intently.  ‘She comes for you, son of Thann.  You have fallen into her trap.’

‘What do you mean?’ he said, for they were the first real words he had heard the old man utter since leaving his island, but still, it sounded like nonsense.

Salu straightened his back and lifted his chin, and he opened his eyes wide, revealing pale, colourless pupils.  He was keen and alert, and he flicked his attention left and right, cautiously scanning the room.

Recognition crept over his face, but before Leopold saw what had caught his attention, a snarl erupted from the old man’s throat.  He threw Leopold down upon his cot, making the newfound Emperor cry out with surprise.  At the same time, Salu struck out with the stick in his hand with surprising speed, followed by a blinding flash of light.

When Leopold’s vision cleared, he found Salu standing to his full height, holding his stick by his hip, as if it were a sheathed sword, his feet set apart in stout readiness.  He was again scouring the air with his gaze, feverishly trying to locate something hidden within the room, yet now he laboured with his efforts.

A splatter of red near the door caught Leopold’s attention and he was horrified to see the guards lying dead in the doorway, blood splashed across the walls behind them.  They lay atop of each other, arms and legs overlapping, bodies piled.

Toby was on his chair at the window,  looking into the room, clapping his hands and whooping joyously.

‘What have you done, you crazy old fool!’ Leopold cried out, but Salu remained static, panting deeply, and with his muscles clenched tight, struggling to remain upright from exhaustion.

A soft voice—a woman’s voice—permeated through the room, issuing from the air itself.  ‘Welcome home, young Emperor,’ the voice announced, honey smooth.  ‘I have been waiting so long to see you again, son of Thann.  I see you have grown.  How delightful.  The wait has truly been worthwhile.’

A woman appeared beside his cot and she looked at Leopold with a satisfied smile.  She had flaxen hair and she wore shimmering, translucent material that suggested the outline of her figure beneath.  She was the most beautiful thing Leopold had ever seen; the thoughts of where she came from and who she was withered before her presence.  She made a striking impression and Leopold wanted to speak with her, to be with her ... to do anything she wished.

Salu broke free of whatever force had been holding him, and he moved without bothering to look at the woman, striking at the sound of her voice, snapping out with his stick once again.  It bounced back far from nearing her and hit him on his skull.  The blow made him stagger and shake his head.  The old fellow grunted and muttered angrily, but Leopold barely noticed, such was his rapture with the woman.

‘Calm, old man.  I witnessed the demise of your brother and your time has passed, too,’ the woman said, keeping her eyes locked upon Leopold.  With that, Salu dropped his stick and slumped onto his bed.  ‘I have prepared long in case you should come.  Return to your slumber.  My world has no place for the old and decrepit.’

Toby again laughed and clapped.  The sight drew a momentary look of confusion and disgust from the woman, before she refocussed upon Leopold and her glorious smile returned.

‘Now,’ she said.  ‘We will not be interrupted.  Come with me, Leopold, my sweet.’

She offered her hand to Leopold and he took it without question.  She helped him to his feet.  Her skin was warm and soft, and as she released his hand, she let her fingers slide across his.  He wanted to grasp her palm again to feel that skin once more, but he resisted the impulse.  Such foolishness might offend her, and he would not want that at all.

‘You are the queen of Cintar?’ uttered Leopold unexpectedly.

‘I am,’ she returned, ‘and I will show you my glorious city.  Come.’  She led him to the wall, as if to stride right through it.  She paused to move Toby out of the way.  ‘Shoo, Shoo!  You dreadful child!’ she told him and the boy leapt for safety as she kicked his stool aside.

He did not mind and climbed up onto his bunk with joy.

She drew a tiny circle in the air with her finger and the wall of the cabin fell out, taking Toby’s window with it, leaving a perfect circle of gaping sky and ocean to face them.

Leopold was unsure what happened after that, but he felt a sensation of moving, and he remembered seeing ships and seawater whizzing past below him, then rooftops and streets whipping past.  It was strangely calming, and he was unable to resist falling fast asleep, even as the wind rushed through his hair and roared in his ears.

Chapter Four

The Seat of the Empire

OPENING HIS EYES, Leopold made a sudden transition from sleeping to awareness.  There was no usual rolling about and wishing for a few more hours rest.  He simply awoke, knowing he was in an unfamiliar place.  Slowly, scanning his surrounds, his eyes leapt from feature to feature, taking in the details, searching for familiarity to cling to.  Thoughts struggled, mired in coils of tar.  He had no idea where he was or, more troubling, how he came to be there.

His fingers moved beside him, feeling cold satin sheets beneath his body.

It was a circular room, and he was lying upon a circular bed.  The chamber was full of cushions, rugs and hanging lengths of cloth, obscuring the painted white walls.  The sun shone brightly outside, pouring in through the windows and the wide, veiled doorway opposite.  Another door, wooden and varnished, arch shaped, marked the far wall, no hint as to where it led.

He was thinking it a good idea to stand and look out that open doorway, to see what lay outside, when the queen of Cintar stepped in through the translucent white curtains and smiled at him demurely.

‘You are awake, young Emperor,’ she noted, standing beside him, looking down with the love of a mother watching her child awaken from fevered dreams.

Leopold thought he should reply, but had trouble forming his thoughts into words.  His intentions refused to solidify, twirling about inside his head like scattered leaves in a tempest—and it was unsettling.  Thin, whimpering sounds escaped his mouth.

As the Queen leaned over him, tendrils of smoke were curling about her, as if she had stepped out of a fire and had dragged some of the vapours in after her.  She ran her finger gently across his brow and his confusion dissipated; dust blown away with the wind.

‘Why—why I am here?’ he asked.

‘You are my guest, Leopold.  I will take care of you now,’ she replied.

‘She will kill you,’ sounded a familiar voice, and a figure in black robes pushed through the curtains behind her.

‘Samuel,’ Leopold said, remembering the magician’s name.

He too, had a residue of smoke clinging to him.  The edges of his cloak were singed and torn.  The smell of burnt hair and cloth was pungent upon the air.

The magician raised a finger and pointed it to Leopold sternly.  ‘Lord Samuel!’ he corrected.

Leopold’s head felt weighed down with stone, and his feet pointed to the ceiling by their own volition as he struggled to rise.

‘You cannot fight me here, Samuel,’ the woman said, ignoring Leopold’s efforts beside her to stand.  ‘Thann was a fool to entrust his boy to you.  You have brought me exactly what I wanted.  Now ... now you are here, what will you do?’

‘You tell me,’ the magician responded.  ‘This is your plan.’

She laughed, and it was a melodic sound.  Leopold ceased his efforts to rise and rolled his head to take in her wonderful presence.

‘I don’t know what you thought to accomplish, my Samuel, except the death of all these men.  It is true, you have destroyed countless legions of my soldiers and beautiful beasts already, but I have more than enough to grind the last of the Turians to dust.  My armies are only tools to get me what I want: you ... the boy, and of course my treacherous Thann.  That’s all my revenge demands.  Such things are beyond the cost of mortal lives.  Besides, now that my strength is at its peak I can summon any number of creatures to bolster my armies.  I can bring a hundred fiends for every trembling soldier you can gather who can hold a sword.  There is no hope of defeating me, Samuel.  You must realise that better than anyone.  You annihilated me, along with my beautiful palace, my city and most of my precious Paatin worshippers, yet here I stand before you, born anew, and I know you will not dare to raise a finger against me.’

‘Yes, I cannot destroy you, Rei—especially not when you inhabit that body.  It must have taken you years to track her down.  She would have had no chance against you.  You knew of all the people in the world, I would never be able to harm my own kin.’

The woman smiled gloriously.  ‘I said I would do it, Samuel, and I am one to keep my word.  You took away my Thann and you saved his rotten child.’  Her smile vanished and anger ignited in her words.  ‘You destroyed my city and my empire of sand.  The least I could do was find the one person you still love and take possession of her.  So, are you happy to meet your precious Jessicah again?  You should thank me for finally reuniting you with your cousin.  Do you like what you see?’  She ran her hands down her sides, over her waist and her hips, accentuating her figure.

If her words were designed to infuriate him, it worked, for Samuel was squeezing his fists and curling his lips with rage.  Leopold was truly surprised; enough to force his head away from the woman and stare at the magician with disbelief.

‘Damn you, witch!’ Lord Samuel hissed, letting spittle fly free.  He took a step towards her, but held himself, precariously balanced between fury and good sense.

His response amused the woman.  ‘Come, Samuel, you know she does not really share your flesh and blood.  She is no more your kin than I.  It was the Circle’s insipid plan to leave you in the care of her parents.  I’m sure you must have realised that by now.  I have every one of her memories readily available.  Your good friend Lomar paid the old fools to act as your aunt and uncle—nothing more.  It was just another link in the Circle’s chain of treachery.  Oh, how I do enjoy this body.  See how I have preserved it?  She is no older than the day I found her.  It is nearly as pleasurable to possess as my last one.  You remember that, don’t you?  Such smooth, tanned skin.  You seemed to enjoy it at the time as I recall; although, I have become accustomed to this lighter tone by now.  It likes to be kept out of the sun.’

Samuel was riled, but calmed himself enough to speak his mind.  He returned his clenched hands to his sides and let them open, resting against the soft cloth of his cloak.  He spoke quietly, but firmly.  ‘I am sure aggravating me has long been on your mind, but surely this is not the full extent of your designs?  It has been an expensive exercise if so.  Tell me, Rei, Queen of Lies, what comes next?’

‘Well,’ the woman said, assured and pleased.  ‘Actually, this moment has been chief in my plans for such a long time that I am not sure if I want anything else to happen.  I am quite enjoying it, but I suppose we must move along.  Your intuition serves you well, Samuel.  There is more.  While you have come here to frustrate yourself once again, I have sent a ground force to flatten Seakeep; and with it, the last of those Turian sluts and their spawn.’

‘Thann’s wives?  His daughters?’ the magician replied with surprise.

‘Of course.  They shall pay for lying with my beloved one.  I will see everything he touched or loved destroyed.  I have prepared the most lavish deaths for all of them.  They will wish they could scream as my pets slowly devour them, but they will find the act beyond them.  Such slow and agonising deaths.  I had to scour the depths of five hells to find such exquisite creatures as them.  I wish I could be there to see it, but I have something better to occupy me here.

‘Now I have you, I will kill you and torture Thann’s son.  Then I will broil his mother in front of him.’  One edge of her lip curled as she savoured the thought and she held one palm before her and clenched it, visualising her foes crushed within.  Sated, the savage look left her visage and she returned her gaze to Leopold with a smile, smoothing his brow with her hand, stroking him like a pet.  ‘Actually, now I have seen this handsome young man I think I will keep him.  It is fitting that if Thann refuses to be my husband, his son should act in his stead.’

‘And what after that?  Will you not be joining Poltamir?  Will you not be serving Lin?’

‘Pah!’ she spat.  ‘Your rotten child has not shown his face and Poltamir is nowhere to be seen.  I have been doing Lin’s work for him, ridding the land of men and freeing their souls for his nourishment, but he has not seen fit to thank me.  Their life force roams free and useless and I have been left to self-amusement.  I miss those days before, when I knew nothing of my past.  At least I found interest with my wars and conquests, but now I recall having done so a thousand times before, and little remains to fascinate me beyond vengeance upon you and Thann.’

‘Then you have no idea where they are?’ Samuel asked her.

‘So, you still have not found where Poltamir is keeping your son?  His growing presence shouts aloud from the south.  I’m sure you can feel that as well as I.  But I have no care for where Poltamir is or what he is doing.  Lin’s hold on us has failed.  Poltamir has him trapped—or perhaps he is dead,’ she added with a smile.

‘He is not dead,’ the magician said squarely.

‘No ... no, he is not, but unless he frees himself it will not matter.  Now come; enough banter.  Tell me; where you have hidden my Thann?  And why were you fool enough to bring his boy to my very door?’

At that, the magician smiled knowingly.  He lost all pretence of anger and frustration, and mirrored Rei’s smugness, switching faces with ease.  ‘Then you want to know where he is?’

She smiled too, taking Samuel’s change in demeanour to be a ruse.  ‘I feel his presence about you, Samuel, so I know you have been with him of late.  Tell me ... where is Thann?’

‘He killed him,’ Leopold announced from his place upon the bed and the woman spun her head to look at him with uncertainty.

‘It’s true,’ Samuel said.

‘Then he has been reborn!’ Rei declared, returning to confidence.  ‘Thann cannot hide from me so easily.  I will find him no matter what face he wears.’

‘No,’ Samuel said, shaking his head.  ‘This time he will not return.  I have severed him from Lin’s service and freed him from his bond.  Thann is dead.  He sacrificed himself for the wife and son he loves.  He gave his spirit to me and I have absorbed his immortal essence.’

The woman wavered as she realised the implications.  She backed away from the both of them, away from the bed, looking at Samuel with horror.  ‘You did what?’ she stammered.  ‘Such a thing cannot be done!’  She looked to Leopold with equal apprehension.  ‘Then, you brought the boy to lower my guard.  You ... you knew I would be after him.  You fool!’  She fell into laughter, cackling loudly, an unconvincing facade.  ‘I could have killed him at any time!’

‘You could,’ Samuel admitted, ‘but I know how you like to gloat.  And how would you hold any sway over me if you went and killed the only thing you have to bargain with?  I have not wasted all these years with plans of pointless revenge, Rei, as you seem to have done.  I have busied myself, and believe me when I tell you what I am capable of doing.’

‘But, if you have Thann’s power ...’ she began, trailing off.

‘Then I can defeat you,’ Samuel confirmed.  ‘The standoff so far was to lower your guard.  Your self-indulgence for revelling in victory is much appreciated.  I will take your power, as I did Thann’s, and give Cintar back to the Turians in return for their aid in distracting you.  Then, I will find my son.  Given that you have told me everything I need to know, this charade has no reason to continue.’

‘I am not finished so easily, Samuel,’ she stated defiantly.  ‘You may think you have me, but your handful of soldiers will never retake my city.  You will never reach Seakeep in time to save the women of Turia and the daughters of Thann.  Even if you left now, you would never be able to save those harlots.  They run like scared sheep into the wolves’ den, and the last soldiers of the Empire perish in my streets below as we speak.  You have delivered to my armies a momentary blow, but I still have more than enough to wipe the remnants of Turia from the world.  My generals serve me with absolute loyalty.  Even if you remove me, they will continue my work in my stead.’

‘I do not care for any such things, Rei.  Kill them, crush them—I do not care.  All I want is to save my son.’  The magician’s words were delivered callously.

‘Hah!’ she scoffed.  ‘Ever on your hopeless, selfish quest.  Marrag Lin can never be saved.  He can never give up what he has become!  His cycle of destruction will continue for time eternal.’

Samuel met her rising desperation with a blank wall of calm.  ‘Thann has stepped aside and soon you will be no more, too.  Once I have removed Poltamir, Lin’s minions upon this world will be gone.  How can he continue then?  I will pull his plans from under him until the demon in him abandons all hope.  When only my son is left behind, I will be victorious.’

‘He will find a way!  He cannot be stopped!  Don’t you think we have tried?  We tried to stop him many times ... his power is absolute.  He bound us to our task, and we cannot resist him.  Even Poltamir is doomed to fail eventually.  Lin will escape when he wishes, and the cycle will begin anew.  He will find new agents to replace us and it will not disturb him in the slightest.’

‘We shall see.  When the last of the Ancient Ones are gone, it will be time to parley.’

‘You can never rid the world of such evil,’ she insisted.

‘I will do it.  I have already taken Thann.  You are next.’

Rei hesitated at his remarks, then laughed gloriously.  For some reason, his words pleased her and she regained much of her confidence.  ‘You are a fool, Samuel, bumping around in the dark.  You know so little yet strive to do so much.  You are the father of this demon and you helped him come to power, yet now you would undo all your own good work.  Don’t you remember anything of what happened in the beginning—when we first forged our pact?’  He did not answer.  ‘Of course you don’t,’ she said with amusement.  ‘So …’  She stalked the magician, circling him slowly, deliberately.  She reached out one finger as she moved and ran it around his middle.

‘So what?’ Samuel asked, unmoving as stone.

‘The choice is yours to make, Samuel.  Will you kill me and lose your cousin forever or let me go and try your luck another day?  We could join forces you know.  Wouldn’t that be glorious.  I wonder if you have given in to the Change or if you are still ... capable.’

She stopped in front of him, and inched closer, putting her arms around his neck until she was nearly nose-to-nose with him, only a palm’s width shorter than him.  She twisted her head slowly as she looked him in the eyes, like a charmer beguiling a snake, and slowly, he gave in.  He reached his arms up and drew her against him.  He nestled his head onto her shoulder and closed his eyes, relaxing into her embrace.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold called with alarm.  He tried to stand on legs that would not take his weight.  He clung to the side of the bed: a hollow keg floating in stormy seas.

‘There there, Samuel,’ the witch cooed into Samuel’s ear.  ‘How could you hurt your dear Jessicah?  You dare not risk bruising the poor thing.  Her love is pure and innocent.  She could never harm anyone.’

‘I could not,’ the magician replied and his arms snapped tight around her.  She yelped in his crushing embrace, but could not move, even as she tried to struggle.  ‘But neither can I stand to see her like this.  I will see her dead before I let you have her.’

The woman fought against him as the room began to shake.  All the vases and trinkets dropped from their shelves and pedestals as the woman bucked and shrieked to escape.  The power gradually eased, and Rei, still locked in his arms, laughed mockingly.

‘You do know what I found inside of her, don’t you, Samuel?’ she whispered, hoarse in the throat.  ‘I am sure you have felt it.  Just as there is darkness within you, something also lurks within this precious girl—an abomination the likes of which I have never seen, a burning light that pales the sun.  You cannot ignore it, Samuel.  It is there, sheltered in the shadow of her innocence.  Even if you succeed in ridding the world of me, you will have to deal with her eventually.  Can you do that, Samuel?  Can you punish her as you have so many others?’

‘You know nothing about her!’ Samuel roared with rage, and the room shook again.

The magician crushed her in his grip and Rei wailed, shaking her arms and legs as if devoid of bones.

Finally, she languished into his arms.  Now he held her so she would not fall, her head flopped sideways and her mouth hung open, and Leopold saw tears streaming from the magician’s eyes.

‘What have you done?’ Leopold asked, managing to prop both legs beneath him and standing unsteadily.

‘I am not sure ...’ came Samuel’s strained reply.  It had lasted a few moments, but the effort had drained him substantially.  A bead of sweat ran down his brow.  ‘Rei is gone, but I don’t know what remains.  I tried to take only the witch from her, but they were closely intertwined ...’

But the woman was not dead, even as motionless as she was in his hands.  She blinked and opened her eyes, looking at Samuel unsure as she awakened from her slumber.  He released her and she stepped back, taking her own weight.

‘Samuel?’  The voice was the same but the intonation was different, with no hint of the self-assuredness or demanding that it previously carried.  Her posture and stance had changed; the seductress was gone.  ‘What are you doing here?  Where am I?’

‘You have been a slave to one of the Ancient Ones.  I have saved you.’

‘Did you really?’ she asked.  ‘I don’t know what has been happening to me.  I thought it a dream; fragments of another woman’s life, strange and painful.  It lasted forever.  Oh, Samuel.  I haven’t seen you for such a long time.’  She stepped closer and wiped a tear from his cheek.  ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘I have missed you, Jessicah,’ he said and Leopold was again flabbergasted.  He wondered if the magician’s words were true or simply another ruse.

‘I always wondered what happened to you after you went to Cintar, but I knew we would someday meet again.  And who is this?’  She only now noticed Leopold standing beside them.

‘He is Leopold Calais, the Emperor of Turia—what’s left of it.  Leopold, this is Jessicah—my cousin.’

‘Leopold,’  she said, disoriented.  ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ he replied.  He was surprised that this gorgeous woman was somehow related to the magician.  The beguiling enchantress had left her, but she was no less beautiful.  If anything, losing the forceful manner of Rei only made her more attractive.

‘Is something the matter?’ she asked him, concerned that he was staring at her.

He realised and averted his eyes.  ‘I’m sorry.  Forgive me.’

It was at that moment that she appraised herself, noting the sheerness of her clothes and their translucency.

‘My goodness!  What am I wearing?’ she said.

The room was not lacking for clothing and she went to the side of the room where a mirror and wardrobe were located.  She flung the wardrobe open and browsed the contents until finding a modest blue dress that was considerably less revealing.

‘These all look about my size,’ she said, noting the various items that hung there.

‘I think you’ll find they’re exactly your size,’ the magician told her, but she was too busy covering herself to pay much attention.  She tied the dress at her waist, stunning in such a homely covering.  How could she conceal such natural beauty?

‘There!’ she said, looking in the mirror.

‘Jessicah, I hate to rush you, but we need to hurry,’ Samuel told her.  ‘There’s much I still need to do.  Right now, I need to get you safely back to the ship.’

‘What ship?’ she asked.

‘Never mind.  You’ve missed a lot and it will take time to fill you in.  For the next day or two you’ll have to have faith in me.’

‘I always do,’ she said with a cheerful dimpled smile.

‘What about the battle?’ Leopold asked.  ‘What about the people in Seakeep ... my half-sisters and the others?’

‘They do not concern us,’ Samuel said steadfastly.  ‘Now we have removed Rei, her forces will be easily subdued.  Captain Orrell has instructions on how to take the city.  I’m sure he will prevail.  I need to rest.’

‘But surely you can help them?  And who will save the people in Seakeep.  How can you be so cold-hearted?  Is this all you care about—saving your own while letting others go to the slaughter?’

‘Samuel, what is he talking about?’ asked Jessicah, concerned.

The magician shifted his feet uncomfortably.  ‘We have important things to do.’

‘This is important,’ Leopold told him.  ‘You cannot sit back and do nothing.’

Samuel stalked the room angrily.  ‘How can we save the world if we have to run around fighting every insignificant battle?  People have to protect themselves, and suffer the consequences if they cannot.  If we lose now, everything will be lost.  All these lives will be lost for nothing!’

‘Please, Samuel,’ Jessicah said, trying to calm him.  ‘I hate to see you upset.  Come now.  One more hug for my favourite cousin.’

She held his hands and pulled him into her embrace, hugging him tight.  Leopold looked on incredulously.  No one would believe the vile magician was behaving in such a homely fashion.

‘I missed you so,’ she said, before putting her mouth to his ear.  She whispered something, too softly for Leopold to hear.

When they released, she looked content, turning and idly examining the room, but Samuel’s expression had changed.  His face had greyed and he looked full of worry.

‘What is it?’ Leopold asked, stepping closer.

The magician shot Leopold a scathing glare that told him to shut up, before looking back to his cousin.  ‘Very well.  I have changed my mind and will do as you ask, Leopold,’ he announced.  ‘We will save Captain Orrell and his men and then we’ll see about Seakeep, but I will get you to the ship first.’

‘Can’t you leave us here?’ Leopold asked.  ‘It seems safe enough.’

‘It may be safe for the time being, but I’ve given Captain Orrell instructions to blow this whole tower to the ground, so I suggest we move rather quickly.  Come.’

He led them to the balcony and Leopold and Jessicah were surprised to be looking down from a remarkable height.  Jessicah breathed sharply and stepped back, unsure at being so near to the edge, despite the safety of the guardrail.  Far below, almost as if they were looking down from the clouds, they could see the city around them, sitting amidst the pond of the ocean.  The Farstride and the remainder of the fleet were upon the water, with landing craft moving between them and the city.

Much of Cintar was burning, and the brisk wind that remained was carrying the smoke away.  The gold and blue of Captain Orrell’s men could be seen in a cluster, fighting their way along the broad approach that led to the palace.  They were surrounded by countless dark figures—Rei’s Order.  Larger things walked amongst Rei’s army and they punished the Turian men with unbridled violence.

Every street and corner throughout the city was filled with debris and bodies.  Samuel’s storm had significantly reduced the size of Rei’s defending forces, but still they greatly outnumbered Orrell and his men.

‘Rei’s army has not lost its enthusiasm as you expected,’ Leopold noted.

‘So it seems,’ Samuel said with annoyance.  ‘I must have erred.  One of her subordinates must be directing her Order.  Hmm ... Ruardin.  I will soon take care of him, but first, the captain needs breathing space.  Come, I will put you somewhere safe.’

Before either protested, he clamped his hands around their waists and, with a sudden lurch, they were airborne.

‘By the gods!’ Leopold cried and he clutched to the magician’s side tenaciously, while Jessicah shrieked with fear.

‘Don’t wriggle so much, or I will drop you!’ Samuel declared.

‘Then give us warning next time!’ Jessicah gasped, finding her voice.

‘What’s that!’ Leopold called out, and he freed one hand from holding long enough to point to a cluster of dark shapes that were flitting towards them.

Samuel moaned.  ‘Demon spawn.  Why is nothing ever easy?’

‘Who are you to ask, Magician?’ Leopold asked with annoyance.

‘Lord Magician!’ Samuel returned sharply.  ‘Now hold your tongue while I save your life again.’

The enormous batlike creatures screeched towards them, swooping in and snapping past with jagged beaks and razor claws.

‘Hold on!’ Samuel bellowed, for they were descending rapidly towards the top of another tower.

They slowed enough before landing so that their legs were not broken, but the three of them spilled over, with Leopold and Jessicah gasping in pain, skinning their knees and elbows.

Samuel rolled away, knotted in his cloak, up first and pointed to each flying creature in turn.  Their wings ceased beating and they plummeted out of sight.

‘Why didn’t you do that before we nearly broke our ankles?’ Leopold asked sorely, peering over the tower’s edge after the fiends.

‘I was too busy holding onto you to think about it.  Hold your tongue.  You live, so stop whining.’

‘What were those things?’ Jessicah asked fearfully.

‘Beasts from another plane.  Rei’s forces are men that she has subverted with her powers.  To bolster them she has summoned many creatures from other worlds—monsters and ghouls beyond comprehension.’

‘Who is Rei?’ she asked.

‘That’s one of the details I will explain later,’ Samuel replied.

‘Can you not stop these things?’ Leopold asked of Jessicah.

She shook her head.  ‘Why would I be able to stop them?’

‘Enough, Leopold,’ Samuel told him bluntly.

‘What is that?’  Leopold pointed excitedly to a huge shape that was stomping through the houses.  It was building-sized and mobile,  wreaking havoc upon the city, sending up plumes of dust and smoke in its wake.

‘That, young Leopold, is the general of her armies.  It is—or at least it once was—General Ruardin, a proud and noble giant of man, bent to Rei’s will and transformed into this monstrosity.  His golden armour is now turned to stone.  I’d wager his presence keeps Rei’s forces directed.  I was hoping the captain could take care of everything from here, but it seems he is having his own difficulties.  Argh!’ he then grunted.  ‘Now the damned man is going the wrong way.  This will never do.’

‘What will you do?’

Samuel sighed.  ‘I’ll have to help Captain Orrell take care of him, but I need you to do something for me.’

‘What is it?’ Leopold asked.

He left Jessicah standing by the tower’s edge and took Leopold to speak quietly.  ‘Part of being a magician—of being in any conflict—is not letting our enemies know our strengths or weaknesses.  The battle so far has strained me, and I am nearing my limits.  I need rest.  I can use Rei’s power to do what I can, but after that I risk exhausting myself , and then ...’  He trailed off, distracted.

‘What is it?’ Leopold prompted him.

‘If I overreach my limits, there is a danger.  I have something inside of me ... many things, dark things.  They have always been within me, whispering quietly, but in a moment of desperation I gave in and welcomed them into my being.  We are one, and I must struggle against their efforts to control me.  Normally, I withstand them, but if I tire too much, I may be overcome.  Then, I will need you to help me.’

‘What would I do?’ Leopold asked dubiously.

‘Get me into my casket and close the lid.  Do not open it for one full day.  After that, it should be safe.’

‘But your casket is on the ship.’

‘Then that’s where you’ll have to get me.’

‘What happens if I can’t get you into it in time?’

‘Then I would be overcome, a powerful tool of darkness and a danger for everyone.’

‘It’s not enough the world is filled with demons, you are full of them, too?’

‘Demons have been fighting each other for control of this world since an unfortunate fool led them to it.  The ones within me would challenge Lin if they received the opportunity—though I doubt they would succeed.  Such chaotic beings inherently battle each other for supremacy.  The result would be disastrous for everyone here, our mission would be a failure.’

Leopold was thoughtful.  ‘Very well.  I will do it.’

Samuel nodded.  ‘Good.’  He looked to Jessicah.  ‘I don’t want her to know.  Not yet.’  He then called her over.  ‘I will go now.  I will be back for you when it is over.  If everything goes badly, close your eyes and wait.  It shouldn’t take long.’

‘For what?’ asked Leopold, concerned.

‘To die,’ the magician said with finality.

‘But couldn’t we run or make for the ship?’

‘You could.’  He moved beside Jessicah, and Leopold chased after him.

‘Wait!  Are you just going to leave us here?’

‘It’s safer here atop the Mage Tower than down there, believe me.  I will come for you when I am finished.  Don’t worry.  With luck, it should all work out.’

‘That doesn’t sound very reassuring,’ Leopold declared.

‘I have seen this battle before and I know the High Tower shall fall ... it’s pivotal to our victory.  In my vision, however, this tower was still standing, so just pray my memory remains sound.  It’s been a long time.’

‘That’s not comforting, Samuel,’ Jessicah said.

Samuel gave her a rare, genuine smile and, unbelievably, winked.  ‘Have faith in me.  Besides, you have the charming young Emperor to keep you company.’

With that he turned his back.

‘But what if more of those flying things come?’ Leopold shouted after him, but Samuel had already stepped from the tower’s edge and dropped away, black cloth fluttering wildly.

Leopold stepped carefully to the edge to watch the magician in flight.  He fell halfway to the ground, and for a moment Leopold thought the man might hit the ground, a fatal puff of dust and shattering of paving stones, but he curved away from the tower wall, swooping over rooftops.

From the shadows of the city, more flying things rose to meet him.  Brilliant streams of lightning streaked from the magician, and Leopold flinched as the bright beams dazzled his eyes.  The stricken beasts glowed red hot for an instant, then fell like broken kites from the sky, spiralling down into the city streets.

Jessicah came to his side and clutched his hand for support as she also followed Samuel’s progress.  Leopold looked to their clasped hands nervously.  He had imagined being hand in hand with a beautiful woman, but never like this.  He held onto her tightly to calm his jittery nerves.

‘Are you really the Emperor?’ she asked him.  Her question broke him from his thoughts.

‘Ah, apparently so,’ he replied.  ‘Don’t I look like one?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said.  ‘Samuel and I would play tricks on each other all the time when we were young.  I wasn’t sure if this was one of them.’

‘What he said is true.  I don’t think he plays many games anymore.’

She nodded thoughtfully.  ‘Then I apologise if I am ill-mannered, Your Majesty.  I had a simple upbringing.’

‘So did I,’ he told her with a smile.  ‘Just call me Leopold.  I’ve only been an emperor a few days.  You were queen for much longer than that.’  The words had come out before he could stop them.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, furrowing her brow.

‘Nothing.’  They safely stepped back from the edge.  ‘Your cousin would be angry if I spoiled the surprise.  I’ll let him tell you everything.’

By now, Samuel had landed on a high steeple beside Orrell’s men.  He paused, then dived into the teeming horde of Rei’s soldiers in the streets.  Leopold and Jessicah could not clearly see what was happening, merely the effect.  A ring of stillness appeared around the magician as those near him fell to the ground, lifeless.  He continued moving, leaping between buildings, darting from street to street, and wherever he went the enemy fell around him.

A cheer rose up from the Turian army and they moved ahead as Samuel cleared the way .

Leopold felt Jessicah move at his side.

‘Leopold!’ she called, her voice filled with urgency.

She was looking behind them.  A winged beast, a giant leathery bat with a nest of serpentine heads, was roosting at the far edge of the tower.  It hissed and slavered, shaking streams of spit from its heads as it rattled them about.

‘The trapdoor!’ Leopold said, pointing to the wooden door that led down into the tower.

‘It’s too close,’ Jessicah warned, for the flying creature would be on them before they could near it.

‘What do we do?’ Leopold asked with urgency.

‘Your sword!’ the woman by his side said.  ‘Use it!  Kill it!’

Leopold considered telling her that he had no knowledge how to use the weapon.  Instead he nervously put his hand to the hilt, keeping his eye on the beast as it watched.  He pulled the blade free of its sheath and felt lightning in his grip—a slender, silver blade of death that shimmered with reflected light.  He imagined his father standing in the same posture, the blade being the only thing between some fiend and a tender damsel.

Looking to the demon, all pretence of bravery evaporated.

The beast unfolded its leathery wings and shrieked on sight of the sword.  Its many heads writhed and gnashed the air, and it rushed at them, snapping and biting.  Leopold had hoped the spirit of his father might guide his hand, but on sight of the creature’s charge, the sword turned to stone.

He tried to hold the weapon in some meaningful way, and realised it was beyond him.  Adding to his difficulties, he could not take his eye off the beast as it closed.  His mind was overwhelmed with fear.

‘Leopold!’ Jessicah shrieked.

Perhaps it was because of his violent shaking, or because he had paled with fright, but Jessicah realised he was frozen to the spot.  She stepped in front of Leopold, obscuring his view, with something bright in her hands and in one movement she made a broad swinging action.

The beast shrilled and fell dead at her feet.  As she stepped aside, Leopold saw his sword in her grip, and noted his empty palms with disbelief.  She had relinquished the weapon from his hand and saved them.

Leopold stepped beside her.  The beast’s head lay beside its body, snakeheads writhing and clawed feet kicking wildly, no traction upon the stones.  The sword was wreathed in the creature’s black blood, and Jessicah was holding its hilt, staring at the demon defiantly like a veteran warrior.

‘How—how did you do that?’ he asked her, nauseous at both the sight of the dead creature and the fear souring inside his stomach.

‘I don’t know,’ Jessicah admitted, surprised by what she had done.  ‘I just ... did.’

She returned the sword to Leopold and he shoved it back into its scabbard, covered in ooze.  It squelched, pushing out a squirt of the bubbling black fluid.

‘Well,’ he stammered, ‘time we went below before any more come to devour us.’  He went to the trapdoor that covered the entrance into the tower and struggled with the chain to open it.

She hurried to his side, as he heaved the heavy door open.  They fled down the steps revealed below and Leopold pulled the trapdoor banging shut above them, sending them abruptly into blackness, only a thin line of bright light from the crack above to guide their way.

Thankfully, many windows were further down the tower.  They descended the countless stairs, crossing balconies and circling the inside of the building as they explored their way down.  The place was abandoned.  Many rooms were stripped of their doors and the contents broken or removed.  Every few floors, they looked out a window or glanced from an external balcony, to see how the battle was progressing outside.

When they were halfway down the tower, they saw that Orrell’s men, led by Samuel, had reached the palace gates and were forcing their way inside.  The grounds, once beautiful gardens, had been churned to mud, and the Turians hacked at the remaining guards that blocked their way.  Most of the defending Order were already dead, killed by Samuel’s spells.  Orrell’s men chopped at those that remained, while Samuel assaulted the large, screeching humanoids that accompanied them.

They fought towards the central buildings, and Leopold saw the immense shape of General Ruardin at the palace walls, striding through buildings, trailing broken rubble.  How they planned to stop such a monster, he had no idea.

Leopold spied the shape of Samuel scuttling towards the beast.  In one movement, the magician had vaulted across the rooftops.  He gathered speed as he went, changing to a streaking blur, and the two met with an almighty boom; Samuel came off the worst, thrown aside.  His impact shattered a tall steeple, rubble piling on top of him.  Leopold thought that may have been the end of him; but Samuel was not defeated so easily.  He clawed through the debris and battled the general again.  The beast was slow and the magician darted in and out, evading its enormous limbs.  He teased it, and it followed him, dragging its bulk alongside the grounds, scraping out huge grooves in the wall with the back of its stone shell.

Leopold and Jessicah had seen enough, they bounded down the stairs, never short of breath, and before they knew it, they reached the ground floor.

The door had been boarded over from the outside; Leopold had to throw his shoulder against it a couple of times before the shoddy nails broke free from the brickwork, and they burst out into a courtyard.  The walls around them were covered with the pale skeletons of ivy, dried residue of the deep green climbers that once graced many of the external palace walls, neglected and left to die in the care of Rei and her forces.

An archway nearby led them into the grounds proper, and in the open they saw that Orrell’s men were assaulting the last of the forces left inside the palace boundary.  The men shut the great gates behind them and the remnants of Rei’s Order in the streets, pursuing them, were locked out.  Neither, however, could Orrell’s men escape.  They were trapped inside: hopefully, with good reason.

Leopold trudged across the mud to Captain Orrell, Jessicah right behind, holding the hem of her blue gown.

‘What are you doing here?’ the man roared, wiping the blood, sweat and mud from his face.  ‘You should be back on the ship!’

‘The Witch Queen brought me here; Samuel saved me,’ Leopold responded.

‘And who is she?’ Orrell said, glaring at Jessicah.

‘Samuel’s cousin.’

‘Then I won’t ask how she came to be here.’  He looked her up and down, wrapped in the dress as she was, mud over her bare feet and shins, for she had abandoned her fashionable although impractical boots halfway down the tower.  ‘What of the witch?  Is she dead?’

Leopold glanced to the woman beside him.  ‘Ah, Samuel took care of her.’

‘Then why are her armies still screaming for our blood?’ Orrell asked in frustration.

‘He said he needs to kill General Ruardin as well.  That’s what he’s arranging now.’

Orrell sighed aloud.  ‘It never gets easy, does it?’ he said, mirroring the magician’s earlier sentiment.  ‘Then we will have to continue with Samuel’s plan as best we can.  I only hope his mad scheme proves its worth.  Most of my men lie dead in the streets or inside those fiends.’

‘Where is he?’ Leopold asked, for he had become disoriented after making his way from the tower, and currently did not know north from south or east from west.

‘There,’ Orrell said, just as a monstrous howl came from afar, and Leopold followed Orrell’s finger to beyond the palace walls.  Movement, and a great hulking shell of stone lumbered on the other side.  ‘We have much to do yet.  You two stay close to me.’

The captain led them back to the palace, and they raced up the many, great white steps that led to the main entrance, following his men.  Each of Orrell’s troops had one of the black powder canisters strapped to their backs—some bore more under their arms—and they made their way through halls and out to a courtyard near the base of the High Tower.

‘Wait here,’ Orrell told them.

Leopold stopped the bloodied man before he could disappear inside. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Samuel said we need to destroy the tower if we want to end this battle while we’re still breathing, so that’s what we are doing.  It had better work.  We will not survive more than a few hours in here once the main gate comes down ... and that won’t be long.’  He gazed up at the mighty spire of the High Tower.  ‘My engineers know the foundations well.  I only hope we still have enough powder left to do the job.’  With that, the captain left Leopold and Jessicah waiting where they were.

They stood for a time, while Orrell’s men busily ran in and out of the tower entrance, carrying casks from the arms of the wounded.

‘Stay here,’ he told Jessicah.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked him apprehensively.

‘I want to see how Samuel is fairing against the general.’

Leopold ventured out upon the grounds once more to get a better view.  He heard the crackle of magic and the muffled thunder of walls and buildings collapsing.  It was a brutal fight, then the noise fell suddenly.  Nothing stirred, save for the rising dust.  There was no sign of Samuel and so Leopold ventured nearer, to the foot of the wall.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw Orrell’s men on the steps, and another cluster atop the great palace gates, firing down with arrows to keep Rei’s army outside.

He was considering climbing the nearest stairs that would lead him atop of the wall beside him, when his boots shivered and a heavy boom followed.  Vibrations ran across the ground and up through his legs; something enormous stirred.  The mighty shell of General Ruardin was only a dozen strides away, beyond the wall, and the earth rattled as it moved again.  Leopold ran and a roar of anger sounded behind, deafening.

Looking over his shoulder, the dark figure of Samuel bounded over the wall directly after him.  He looked beaten and tired, desperate, and he ran in a wavering path.  Even so, he quickly caught Leopold and was dragging him along by the arm when another ear-splitting wail shattered the air.

Leopold opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but the words never made it out.  The wall behind them exploded and what-was-once General Ruardin became visible.

Leopold stopped, twirling around and gawking at the monster, nothing humanly recognisable in the creature.  More of the stonework crumbled as it pushed its way through.  Tentacles covered the mouth and as they parted, a jet of blinding fire sprayed forth, baking the mud between them.

‘Keep running, you fool!’ Samuel exclaimed.

Leopold wasted no time in turning about and following the magician as fast as he could.

‘Why are we running?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Can’t you defeat it?’

‘Of course not, or I would not run,’ the magician panted.  ‘His armour is impregnable.  The stones of the old School of Magic have been fused upon him and within him, replacing his skin and bones.  They came originally from Mount Karthma—the most powerful concentration of magic in the world; at least, it was until a star destroyed it.  It has been worked to quell any spells that meet it.  I never planned to defeat him.  Not myself.  I only wanted to lure him into place.  Hopefully, Captain Orrell is ready.  I can delay the general no longer.  It’s now or never.’

Samuel stopped, skidding in the mud, and faced the thing as it lumbered towards them.  Desperate hope filled the magician’s eyes, as if all his plans relied on this single moment.  Leopold waited beside him as the Ruardin beast bellowed again, its footsteps shaking the earth.

Captain Orrell’s men bounded down the palace steps, vaulting as many at a time as they could.  The captain scurried down behind them, dragging Jessicah by the hand.

‘Run!’ Orrell shouted towards the pair, and Leopold and Samuel did as they were told, turning once again from the roaring creature and heading towards the palace gates.  Another jet of flame tore after them, searing the earth.

There was a deafening, sharp bang and Leopold was thrown sideways.  He flailed his arms and legs wildly, sprawling onto his chest in the mud.  He rolled over, wide eyed, to hear the loud crack that followed.  He whirled about, desperate to see what new attack was upon them, but the sounds had not come from General Ruardin.  The beast was still lumbering after them, ignorant to the explosion at the heart of the palace.

A cloud of dust and smoke was rising from between the buildings and then, the impossibly tall High Tower of Cintar began to lean.  There was another set of audible cracks, the sounds of failing stone and supports, and it tilted further.  It gathered momentum until there was no doubt about which direction it was falling—directly towards the beast ... towards them.

Captain Orrell was at Leopold’s side, pulling him out of the mud and dragging him away, but Leopold could not take his eyes from the sight of the tower as it crumbled.  Huge stones shattered across the palace, collapsing the buildings beneath it.  Concrete grey plumes of dust gushed from the palace entrance and poured out over the steps.

The upper half of the tower slammed into the ground, its segments crashing down and creating a path of devastation, making the ground shudder tremendously.  General Ruardin lay in that path, vanishing under the rain of stone.  Everything disappeared in the billowing clouds that filled their eyes and lungs.

Leopold panted, doing his best not to inhale the thick and choking matter.  Samuel appeared beside him, not that he could see the man, for it was black as midnight in that cloud; he recognised the magician from his stance.

‘Is it dead?’ Leopold asked fearfully, his voice high and thin beyond control.

A looming shadow answered his question.  The shudders of its giant footsteps were unmistakable.  The beast roared as it advanced, dust swirling in tight spirals from its back.

‘What do we do now?’ Leopold asked with disbelief, putting his hand to his sword—a sign of despair; he knew he had no chance of using it.

‘We go,’ Samuel answered.  ‘Orrell’s men can finish this work.’

Leopold saw what he meant.  The Ruardin beast neared, the shroud of dust around it thinned, and raw pink skin was visible where armour had once been.  Shards of the magical stone clung in places, but the beast bled badly from its wounds.  Orrell’s men wasted no time and rushed to meet it, yelling courageously, peppering it with arrows from a distance, darting in and pushing their swords deep into its flesh, and springing out of its reach.

It roared in pain, thrashing about, desperate to repel them.  On closer scrutiny, Leopold thought its eyes—barely visible between the wavering tentacles—resembled something human, and in that moment he felt sorrow for the man, a face of misery; the remnants of a man become a monster, his actions deemed righteous to the end.

‘A pity to finish this way,’ the magician said.

‘Samuel, you look hurt,’ Jessicah called out, coughing and meeting them through the cloud.

‘It is nothing,’ he responded.  ‘I have much to do yet.  Come, Leopold, Captain Orrell can clean up from here.  Once he finishes off the general, its underlings will be routed and the summoned beasts with be banished.  We have more work to do before we can rest.  Jessicah, the captain will protect you.  I would take you back to the ship with me, but I need Leopold and I cannot take you both.  I need what little strength I have left.’  He grabbed a passing soldier by the neck and lifted the poor man from his feet.  ‘Take this woman to the captain,’ he told the soldier.  ‘Guard her with your life or you will answer to me.’  The man blanched at the magician’s threat, and nodded vigorously.  ‘Tell the captain to clear the city once the beast is dead.  The Order—Rei’s Order—is broken.  Her soldiers will be disoriented and easily overcome.  Some may revert to sanity, so don’t kill them all if they seem coherent.’

The man acknowledged the magician.  ‘Come with me, My Lady,’ he said as Samuel released him, and led Jessicah away quickly, the both of them disappearing into the grey shroud.

Samuel took a deep breath as he neared Leopold and grabbed him around the waist with one arm.  Leopold winced, for he knew what would follow and, surely enough, the next instant Leopold’s stomach nearly dropped into his legs as they vaulted together into the sky.  The streets were a blur below them, filled with Rei’s armies making for and beating on the palace gates, horned, winged and taloned beasts beside them.

As they sped to the sea, shot over the broken gap in the great walls and left the city behind, a mighty bellow issued from behind.  Those flying things beating their wings in the air, and the beasts roaming the streets vanished.  The throngs of haggard soldiers staggering around shook their heads or fell to the ground; the general was dead.

Leopold hoped they would land lightly on the deck of the Farstride, but they dropped lower and lower as they approached, clearly not going to make it to the ship.

The magician grimaced in pain as he struggled to hold them level.  ‘We’re going to get wet,’ he stated, and in one neat movement he rolled in the air, threading out of his cloak and letting it whip away behind them.  He let go of Leopold’s hand momentarily, and snatched him back before he fell too far; in that instant Leopold’s heart nearly succeeded in jumping out his mouth.

Samuel laboured to stay aloft in those last few moments, approaching the Farstride on a trajectory that would have them crash into the side of it.

‘Here you go!’ Samuel said, releasing him, and Leopold dropped like a stone.

The water struck hard and rushed around him, bubbling in his ears.  He kicked for the surface tenaciously.  Thankfully, being raised beside the sea made him a strong swimmer and he broke the surface, took a gulp of air, and blinked the salt from his eyes.  Not far in front of him, the magician splashed down clumsily with a heavy splat, sending up a column of water and spray.

When Samuel did not shortly come to the surface, Leopold began to worry.  With long strokes he reached the place where the water was disturbed, expecting a body to bob up any moment.  The magician, however, surfaced halfway back to the ship, continuing to swim the rest of the way without aid.

Leopold sighed and followed after him, his solace being that the magician moved slowly, not a strong swimmer without the aid of his powers, and they reached the ship together.

Sailors were calling out to them and some had jumped in to help Leopold, and together they struggled up the rope netting hanging over the side.  Samuel was exhausted and without assistance; no sailors dared come close to him, focussing instead on aiding their Emperor and pretending the magician did not exist.

As he neared the top, hands reached over and pulled him up, and Leopold found it was Daneel who had taken hold.

‘Welcome back, Your Majesty,’ greeted the man with a cheeky smile.

He pulled Leopold to safety and as soon as Daneel had released his hand, Leopold dropped gasping in a puddle upon the deck.

‘How goes the battle!’ Riggadardian asked, standing over him.

‘It is gone.  The battle is done,’ Samuel replied on Leopold’s behalf, bent over and panting.  The commander’s cautious expression turned to relief.  ‘Orrell is mopping up the dregs as we speak.’  The exhausted magician refused to rest, and staggered about on wobbling legs, regaining his breath.

‘What of our losses?  Were they significant?’ the ship’s commander asked.

‘I didn’t notice,’ Samuel said, stumbling up towards his cabin.  Remarkably, he was already dry.  ‘Leopold!’ he cried over his shoulder and the young man painstakingly got to his feet and hurried after him in his dripping boots, lead strapped to his legs.

Riggadardian followed Leopold along the narrow passage to Samuel’s cabin, assaulting him with questions he had no time to answer.  The magician, leaning against his doorframe, stopped the man abruptly.

‘Commander, you won’t be needed,’ he said and feebly waved one hand to send the fellow away, before entering his room.

‘But, Emperor Leopold!’ Riggadardian whispered urgently, before Leopold escaped into the room.

‘I’m sorry, Commander,’ Leopold told the man.  ‘It will have to wait.’  And he shut the door in his face.

The magician was by the casket when Leopold swung around.

‘Lock the door,’ Samuel gasped and Leopold did so, fumbling the tiny bolt into place.

‘What are we doing?’ he asked nervously.

‘We go to save your kinfolk, as you requested,’ Samuel replied weakly.

‘But you need to rest.’

‘I can rest when I’m dead,’ the magician replied grimly.  He was not so intimidating without his cloak, and as Leopold was thinking this Samuel reached into a chest and pulled out another deep black cloth, which he donned without delay.  ‘Dying is not what I’m afraid of.  Remember what I said, Leopold.  It is up to you to put me in here if so required.’  He tapped the wood of the casket.  ‘Come.  Let us journey to Seakeep.  This is not over yet and I made a promise.  I am growing weary and there is much to do if I am to save your half-sisters and their mothers.  The forces sent to Seakeep may have lost their way, or they may have their own general to keep them directed.  We cannot be sure until we see for ourselves.  I need you to come with me and guard my casket.  If I fail, I will do my best to hold off what lurks within me.  It will be up to you to get me inside.’

Samuel swigged from a bottle of water and Leopold, realising how thirsty he was, grabbed it after the magician and finished its contents with gulping draughts.

‘But what are we doing in here?’ he asked.  ‘We should get the ship ready to leave at once.’  As the last word left his lips there was a flash, and the room changed.

It took Leopold a moment to gain his bearings, for a window sat beside him and through it he recognised the dreary courtyards of Seakeep.  They had travelled all the way in an instant, Samuel’s glistening black coffin accompanying them, taking up the centre of the room, crushing the low, narrow bed it had appeared upon.  People were screaming outside and the sounds of battle filled the air.

‘What—’ Leopold began to ask.

‘Don’t ask.  Just lock the door and bar the window.  Wait for me to return and don’t forget what I told you.  I’ll be back in a moment.’

Samuel opened the door and immediately flew backwards, thrown onto his back at astounded Leopold’s feet.  He had a crossbow bolt protruding from between his eyes and Leopold gawked at the dead magician in horror.

‘By the gods!’ shrieked Leopold, taken by surprise.

An Order soldier, blackened, grimy with filth, blood and gore, stomped into the room with a spent crossbow in his hand, and leered at Leopold.  The bloodlust on his face showed humanity had left him, and he considered the magician on the floor with a maniacal grin.  He dropped his crossbow to the floor with a clunk, and drew his sword hissing from its sheath.  Gurgling laughter sounded from between his putrid, rotten teeth.

Leopold, shivering with fright, proved no threat, and so the soldier stood over the body of Samuel and, with a solid downward thrust, plunged his sword deep into the magician’s chest.  He howled with laughter, only faltering when he tried to pull the blade free and realised it would not come, stuck in a bone.  Putting his boot on the magician’s corpse, he grunted and tugged to draw it out.

Leopold took his chance to escape and made for the window, babbling with fear.  The fool magician had been taken unawares and now he would have to take flight for his life.

He only had one boot up onto the window ledge when there was a thudding noise behind him, of something sizeable falling to the floor.

‘I told you to stay here,’ sounded the voice of Samuel, and Leopold froze.  He was unsure if he should turn around or take his chance and run, haunted by the voice of a dead man.  ‘Close the window before you get hurt.’

Leopold put his foot back to the floor, and prepared for the worst.  He turned reluctantly.

Samuel stood unharmed, with the soldier dead instead—the man’s own sword embedded through his chest, no wound visible upon the magician’s chest and nothing protruding from between his eyes—no scratch on his skin to confirm what Leopold had seen.  The spent bolt lay on the rug at Samuel’s feet, clean as if unfired.

‘What—what happened?’ Leopold stammered.  ‘You were—’

‘Dead?’  The magician shook his head.  ‘No.  This body does not expire so easily.  I have many spells to save me from such an end.  Flesh is repaired as easily as cloth.  Even so, my soul is hanging by a lingering thread.  It is only detaching the last tiny stitch which is the trick I have yet to discover.’  He looked unhappily to the dead man at his feet.  ‘This low-breed took me by surprise and, given my state, I was in no hurry to stand up.  Oh well.  I had better get to it.’

He bent and picked up one foot of the dead man and dragged the body into the hall with him as he left, leaving Leopold to hastily bar the door.  He closed the window and waited.

Nothing to do to pass the time, Leopold looked out a crack between the window boards.  He saw a number of the Order hurrying across the stones.

The noises of battle continued for some time, diminishing as if the fighting was moving further away, and finally no sounds at all.  The courtyard was chillingly quiet.

Leopold waited, shivering in his wet clothes, afraid to venture outside.  After a while, he opened the shutter and leaned out to take a look: no sign of life; only corpses littering the ground.

All was silent, when a bang on the door made him jump.

‘Samuel?’ Leopold asked through the timber.

Another bang, softer.  Leopold drew his sword—it was stubborn, gummed up with the blood of the creature Jessicah had killed on his behalf.  He lifted the bar and pulled open the door.  Samuel was there, covered in blood, his eyes rolling in his head.  The magician fell in and Leopold caught him, his sword clattering to the floor, floundering under the weight.

The magician’s fingers shook and feebly gestured at the coffin.  ‘Quickly,’ he croaked, and Leopold dragged him into the room.

He set the magician down, and grappled with the clasps.  Lifting the lid, he found a plush, man-sized chamber inside, a trophy case for a human.

‘Inside,’ the magician urged through clenched teeth.  He was rigid, muscles tight.  ‘Quickly.’

Leopold picked him up and put him in.  Strangely, he was not as heavy as Leopold assumed, more skin and bone hidden beneath his robes than anything else.

‘I couldn’t catch their general,’ the magician said as Leopold positioned him into the box.  ‘He fled with the remains of his army, but I doubt they’ll be back soon.  He won’t live long after what I did to him.  I assured that.’

‘Now what?’ Leopold asked, once the magician was snugly inside.

‘Close the lid,’ Samuel whispered with the last of his strength.

Leopold put both hands to the lid and was about to shut it when the magician whispered again.

‘What is it, Samuel?’ Leopold asked, putting his ear near to the magician’s lips.

The magician’s hand came up and clenched Leopold’s forearm so fiercely it hurt.  ‘Leopold,’ he said stubbornly, ‘you must call me Lord Samuel.  And clean your damned sword.  Your father would die again if he saw it like that.  Now ... close the lid.’

Leopold brought the lid shut and closed the clasps.

He waited; it was perfectly quiet inside the box.  He put his ear to its surface and waited longer; no sign of life.  He thought about opening it, checking if the magician needed anything.  On further consideration he decided against it.  Lord Samuel had been clear on what should be done.

Leopold could only wait.  He shut and re-bolted the door, pacing idly beside the casket.

Noises from outside brought his attention and he looked cautiously into the courtyard once more.

A couple of bloodied Turian guards were calling down below, beside a gaping hole where a wall once stood.  Many keep structures had been destroyed, and those buildings that remained had been ravaged.  It was only luck that Leopold’s hiding place was one of the few rooms that had escaped unscathed, or that it was the magician’s room and no one had dared enter it.  Who could tell?

‘Ahoy there!’ Leopold hailed to those below.

‘Who’s that?’ one of the men called back to him.

‘Leopold,’ he replied.  ‘Is it clear?’

‘Ah ... it appears so,’ the man replied.  ‘We were done for, until the magician appeared and chased them off.  We locked ourselves indoors—we thought he was coming for us next.  Like a demon he was.  Thankfully it was not our blood he was after.  After he took care of the first lot, he chased the rest of them over the causeway.’

‘What of the women folk?’ Leopold asked.

‘Locked safely in the cellars.  We’ll let them out once we’re sure it’s all clear.  Hardly anyone is left alive out here.  It was a slaughter.’

With that, more guards ran into the courtyard and they talked together hurriedly.

Samuel was safe in his casket, and so Leopold picked up his sword and left the room.  He remembered Rei’s gloating warning that she had set a trap for the women; they may still be in danger.  Chatrise had told him about going to the cellars in times of refuge, so he set about to check on them.  Into the wolves’ den.  Rei’s words came back to him.

He passed guards along the way who nodded to him, obviously content that he was not one of the enemy.  The subjects of Rei’s Order were easily distinguishable from the sane members of humanity.  He tried to convince soldiers to follow him, but they continued past, ignoring his calls for aid, intent on getting elsewhere in a hurry, and certainly not recognising him for who he was.

He came across plenty of bodies from both sides.  In places they filled the halls to be unpassable.  He climbed over the corpse of a furred brute that lay in its own blood, its head laying separately across the hall, set in an open-eyed, savage grin.  Other such creatures abounded and he avoided them as much as possible.

He found what he hoped was the entrance to the cellars, set beneath a stairway.  Knocking on the heavy metal door brought no response.

‘Open up!’ he called.  ‘It’s clear!’

No sound from within.

It caused him worry, for surely the women would come out if they could, or at least reply, and he ran into the courtyard and called out until two battle-weary guards came to investigate his cries.

‘What’s wrong, man?’ they asked him.  ‘We’ve got plenty to do without your howling.  We’re fortifying the gates before they come back!’

‘Are you injured?’ asked the other, with more concern than his companion.

‘Quickly!’ Leopold told them.  ‘The women won’t answer.  Something is wrong.’

They followed without hesitation and after banging and calling extensively, they agreed with Leopold’s conclusion.  Unfortunately, the chain of command had been sundered and neither of them knew where their captains were, or who might have the key.  Instead, they obtained a length of timber from the outside rubble and rammed it against the door as hard as they could, with Leopold’s assistance.  More men were attracted on hearing the noise, all bloodied or injured in some way, and they crowded around the battering ram and heaved in unison.

The door began to buckle and another few attempts had it bursting inwards.  They dropped the timber noisily to the floor and hurried in with their swords readied, calling as they went, hoping for some reply from the women and children hidden away inside.

Leopold followed last, cautiously.  He wondered if he should go back and check on Samuel and let the men do their work or follow along to see if he could provide some further help.  The magician would be safe in his coffin, so he followed carefully into the dim corridor.

He ventured down the stairs and found the first of the dank cellar rooms, lined with supplies and boxes of fresh goods.  What worried him were the ladies sprawled unconscious on the floor.  The guards were squatting beside them, patting their hands and calling to them.

‘They’re asleep,’ one called.

‘No!’ said another.  ‘They’re awake!’

Most had their eyes open, moving and looking around, the only sign of consciousness.  For some reason, they lay absolutely still.

‘Take them out!  Give them air,’ Leopold told the guards.

At once, the men picked the ladies up and carried them outside one by one, leaving Leopold alone to delve deeper into the cellar.

A dank passage led away from the first room and, following it, Leopold found another similar chamber, with two more passages leading from that one in opposite directions.  Young children and women lay all over each other, likewise awake but locked rigid.  Their chests breathed and their eyes followed him eerily.

Leopold assumed there must be more such chambers, especially if they were capable of holding the keep’s entire population of women and children—several hundred by his guess.  He could not afford to stop and help just yet—not until he found whatever danger the witch had left for them.  Immobilising her prey did nothing.  Surely something else lurked somewhere in the dark, waiting to take advantage of the situation and administer Rei’s revenge.  He drew his father’s sword in readiness.

The air was hazy, and a thread of fine silk caught across the end of his blade as he held it before his face.  He wiped it against his leg, and noticed the thick cobwebs in the corners of the chamber.  Why had they let the place become so untidy?

He coughed, feeling the dust in his lungs and went down another passage at random, listening intently for anything that may be creeping around unseen.

This next room was much larger and had close to thirty people strewn across it.  A noise sounded, a soft hissing of air, and then movement.  In one corner, a fat and enormous caterpillar, as long as his arm, was crawling on one of the crates.  It sensed his presence, eyeless as it was, and raised its head.  The hissing noise resounded from deep in its abdomen, louder and more pronounced.  Fine spindles of silk floated towards him, and Leopold raised his sword to meet them.  The threads wrapped around his blade, sticky and thick.

A shuffling noise had him turning his head, and across the room in another corner was a sight that made him start.  Another grub was there, this one braced upon the chest of a girl of no more than five.  It was snuffling blindly at her body, looking for a gap between her clothes through which to press its eager jaws.

‘Get away from her!’ he cried, and he hurried for the grub, carefully treading amongst the hapless victims.

It raised its head and hissed as he struck it.  One flick of his sword had it thrown aside and its body cleft in two.  It wriggled upon the floor, oozing green fluid.

A guard came in behind him, attracted by the noise.  ‘What is it?’ he said, gasping on sight of the creature.  ‘What is this?’

‘Quickly!  There are grubs … eating them!’

The guard grew wide eyed with apprehension as he spied the first caterpillar on the crate.  He scrambled over the bodies, slipping in his haste, and smote it with his sword.

‘There are chambers further back,’ the guard revealed and he called behind him to the others.  ‘Come here!  Quickly!’  Five men responded to his echoing call and Leopold led the way through the back of the room, sword readied.

‘Gods!’ cried the first man in behind him, for in that next chamber the grubs had crawled from their hiding places in a swarm.

Women and children were again spread across the floor, eyes open.  Half of them were teeming with melon-sized grubs, each working furious at their meals, mouthparts moving back and forth in rows, systematically consuming their helpless, paralysed prey.

Blood was awash across the floor.  In one corner, fattened grubs—child-sized with enormous distended abdomens—munched slowly from atop unrecognisable mounds of flesh, nearly finished with their meals.

‘Kill them all!’ the guards cried, full of disgust and anger, and the men went at the creatures with their swords, desperately hacking away.

Leopold joined them, horrified as the living meals’ eyes follow him, some with limbs already devoured.

‘They come from the crates!’ one man declared, throwing a container crashing to the floor.  It teemed with tiny caterpillars amongst the fruit, hissing and spewing out silken threads.

‘Don’t touch the webs!’ another man declared.  ‘Kill them quickly!’

Through each room they went, smashing open the boxes and killing every bug they found, while other men, civilians and guards alike, came in growing numbers to convey the women and children into the fresh air.

Thankfully, the grubs had only just begun to feast in most of the chambers.  Any longer and it would have been far worse.  All the rooms would have resembled the worst.  After a few hours, no one would have remained at all.

Leopold found Lady Chatrise in one chamber and dragged her out, her eyes fixed upon him all the while, her face expressionless.  He grabbed children under his arms, desperate to have them out of the cellars in case any more horrors awaited them.

‘We can’t thank you enough,’ the guard said.  ‘What’s your name?’

‘Leopold,’ he replied and realisation dawned on the guard.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ he declared, wonderstruck.  ‘How is it you are here?’

‘The magician brought me back.  We came to help you.’

‘How fortunate for us.  We lost a great number and were without hope.  Thank goodness you came.  Thank goodness!’  The man was on the verge of tears.

They used wet towels to clean the threads from the survivors, and slowly the victims moved and groaned, attempting to speak.  Their first common act was to shake and sob.

Judging from this, it would not be long until they returned to full mobility.  Leopold left them to their work, for with him around the guards spent more time bowing than helping, so he judged it better for everyone if he left.

He returned to the magician’s room and found the casket quiet and unmoved.  He finally had time to clean his sword as Samuel had told him, and went to work scraping the black muck and fresh green blood from the scabbard.  Afterwards, listening to the sounds of joy from women and children at being alive, and the laments of woe at realising their losses, Leopold waited alone in Lord Samuel’s room.  He went to sleep upon the floor, the magician’s casket crushing the bed beside him.

****

Leopold awoke with the sounds of movement outside his window.  He looked outside, realising he had slept through the night.

People were organising in the courtyard, carrying foodstuffs and supplies, taking stock.  He went downstairs and spent the day helping however he could and the survivors of Seakeep were grateful for his assistance.  It would be many hours until he could open the magician’s coffin, and he had to do something to pass the time.

Rooms were full of wounded, whom he could not help.  They had bandages and simple balms, but supplies of medicines were severely limited.  What little they possessed had gone to Cintar upon the ships, to treat whatever casualties resulted from their battle.

Leopold realised then that no one in Cintar knew where he was.  Neither he nor Samuel had mentioned the danger in Seakeep; no ships were on their way to aid them.  Once receiving the news, it would take the fleet several days to arrive and Leopold damned himself for not thinking of it earlier.  His only course of action was to wait until it was time to revive the magician.  He would know what to do.

Late in the afternoon, Leopold deemed it to be one full day since the magician had been put in his box and he climbed upstairs and sat beside the casket, considering how to proceed.  Samuel had not mentioned any special words or specific procedures; he decided to simply open it up and see what happened.

He let the sturdy clasps click open one by one and straining, he lifted the hefty lid.

The magician looked peaceful inside, sleeping.

‘Samuel?’ Leopold prompted softly, so as not to waken the man suddenly.  ‘Lord Samuel,’ he said louder, when at first the magician did not wake.

The coffin’s occupant opened one of his eyes, then the other.  He momentarily looked unsure of his surrounds, before blinking the confusion away with some rapid fluttering of his eyelids.  He sat upright and swivelled out of the casket, standing straight and looking convalesced.  He was still covered with blood—obviously not his own—and strangely enough, much of it was still wet and glistening; no time had passed at all within the box.

The magician looked around the room and wandered to the window, glancing downwards.  ‘I see some still live, so it was not a total loss.’  He took a deep breath and when he turned back to Leopold, his skin was clean and his black robes were knitted whole again: a bath and change of clothes between blinks.

Leopold was about to open his mouth to question the feat, when he stopped, realising he should not be surprised by anything the magician could do.  ‘Casualties were high.  Most of the wives and daughters and grandchildren of my father were saved.  They had locked themselves in the cellars.  There was—’

‘Then let us go,’ Samuel said, interrupting him and obviously not caring to hear the remainder of his tale.

‘But can you not see to the wounded?’ Leopold implored him.  ‘Many screamed all through the night and continue to do so.  Dozens died this morning from their injuries and many more will soon follow if they do not receive your aid.’

‘Then let them die.  It will motivate those who live to better prepare in future.  That was the folly of our magic,’ the magician stated.  ‘While the outlands spurned magic and found practical cures for such injuries, Turia was dependent on its magicians.  Natural remedies were lost and forgotten.  Now there are no magicians remaining, the people suffer and in their ignorance they know only the simplest of cures.’

‘So you will not help them?’ Leopold asked, disbelieving such lack of compassion.

‘We have other matters to attend to.  If we dally here, those we save will die anyway.’

‘Then why did you come?  If you do not care for these people, why did you bother?  Why drag me here and risk our lives to save them?  And don’t tell me it was to keep your word!’

The magician met Leopold directly with his gaze, as he often did, implying Leopold was deficient for not knowing the answer.  ‘It was for Jessicah—and for Rei.  I had to spite her.  I could not let that witch have the satisfaction of victory.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Leopold asked impatiently.  ‘Rei?  The witch is gone!  Why speak as if she is still here to know any better?’

‘Few things are often as they seem, Leopold,’ the magician told him.  ‘When Jessicah hugged me in the tower, it was no mere show of affection.  I thought I had saved her—that my victory against Rei was complete—but as she leaned close to my ear she said something that made me realise how complete was my failure.  My blood ran cold at those words.  That is why I came here.’

‘What did she say to you?’

‘I’m still here.  Somehow, even though I sucked the power of Rei out of Jessicah, some residual essence of the vile woman remains, too deep and too ingrained in Jessicah’s mind for me to pluck it out.  Until I find a way to free her, Jessicah is hostage to that woman, and we will never know which one is speaking, or which one is looking out at us.  Jessicah is pure and innocent.  I do not think she has the fortitude to withstand the evil of Rei for long.  In a short time she may be lost altogether and then, only one will remain.’

‘But what of the thing of which Rei spoke, the light she found inside?’

‘Ravings of a mad woman, Leopold.  There is nothing inside Jessicah except pureness of heart, something which Rei, with her black soul, cannot tolerate.’

‘What about here?  People are suffering.’

‘I have no time to mend every corpse thrown upon us.  We have other things to do, Leopold.  Have you not realised that the common people are simply fodder for the likes of us?  Their lives are a currency to achieve what we will, paving stones for the greater path.  Did your father not teach you anything?’

‘I should have known,’ Leopold scowled.  ‘You are as bad as Rei.  Do you really believe such things?’

‘What I believe is not important, young Emperor.  What is important is what I do—and the same counts for you.  Come.  Let us return to the Farstride.’

‘Shouldn’t we tell them we …’ Leopold’s words faded.  The room had already shifted and he, Samuel and the casket were back upon the mighty ship—the Farstride—safely within the magician’s cabin.

Chapter Five

To the Far Side of the World

COMMANDER RIGGADARDIAN WAS CAUGHT by surprise when the magician marched out of his cabin, Leopold venturing behind.

‘Lord Samuel!’ he declared, Captain Merryweather beside him.  ‘You live!  And Emperor Leopold.  Thank goodness!  We were sorely tempted to break down your door and see what had become of you both—except of course, you had made it very clear we should not.’

‘I’m glad my threats were well understood,’ Samuel responded as he descended the stairs.  He strode to the edge of the main deck to get a better view of the city.  The ship was lying parallel with the coast, to ease the loading and unloading of the boats.  ‘I assume the last of the witch’s forces have been rooted out?’

‘Indeed.  Captain Orrell is in his cabin resting.  He returned this morning, after battling through much of the night.  With the defeat of their greatest beast, the defenders lost their nerve and were easily harried down.  There were just so many, it took our men so long.  It is a shame that no one found General Ruardin.  The good captain was at a loss to speak of it.  Did no one find where the witch was keeping him?’

‘Suffice to say, Commander, that he went down fighting with Captain Orrell at his side, just as any Turian would wish.’  He bent the truth adeptly.

‘Ah, a fitting end,’ the man said with a sad, solemn nod.

‘Samuel!’ called the voice of Captain Orrell as he hurried down from the aftcastle to join the pair.  He looked washed and had changed into a fresh, smart uniform; his face bore a large purple bruise and was scratched along his cheek; a small price to pay for the battle he had endured.  ‘We have to thank you for your assistance yet again.  I was relieved when the Order did indeed lose its will to fight once we destroyed their ... beast.  Our losses were severe, but at last Cintar is ours.’

‘No good it will do you,’ Samuel said bleakly, looking towards the smouldering remains of the city.  ‘The place is a ruin and even if repaired, it will do little to keep out any further creatures.  You only have a short respite now Rei is gone.  After that, they will grow in strength and number.’

Riggadardian was perplexed.  ‘But surely now we have destroyed the witch, the monsters will no longer come?’

‘They will come, Commander.  Rei was not the only cause of your worries.  The second Ancient One may have perished, but a third remains on the far side of the world, and these dangers will not cease until we deal with him.  The distance is great, but that means little where magic is concerned.  I feel more beasts arriving all over the world every day.  This Age will end when their master awakens.’

‘Then what can we do?’ Riggadardian asked with worry.

‘Continue my initial plan.  Poltamir has the Demon King in his possession.  If we find them, we may be able to stop this nonsense and close the door to the demons’ realm forever.’

‘Can we truly slay the lord of such devils?’ Riggadardian asked.

‘We will do what is necessary,’ Samuel said darkly, eyeing the man with distaste.  ‘That is why I want to borrow the Farstride—along with you and all of your crew.  We will go to find the last of the Ancient Ones—we will kill him.  Then we will seek out his master.  To stay here is to wait for the inevitable.’

The commander looked flustered as he realised what the magician was asking.  ‘Where will we go?’

‘To Koia.  Poltamir is lurking in the southern lands.  I feel his presence growing steadily each day.  The closer we get, the easier it will be to find him.’

‘Koia is far, Lord Magician.’  It was Lady Wind who spoke from the balcony above them, holding her cloak about her to keep her warm on the bleak and gusty day.  She had appeared moments before, with Daneel accompanying her.  ‘Are you sure you want to travel such distance?  You may not return.’

Samuel did not bother turning to address her.  He looked out towards the coast; the smoke and the ruin had captivated his gaze.  ‘Thanks to you we have this ship.  We can make it.  Returning is not so important as stopping the threat.  If we do not make the attempt, all this,’ he gestured out over the bay and towards Cintar, ‘and everyone still living is doomed.’

Riggadardian looked to Lady Wind grimly.  ‘Ah, a sorry state of affairs.  I had hoped that this battle would be our last; alas, I knew it was not to be.  We will come, if Emperor Leopold desires it.  I cannot speak for the men, and would not command them away from their homeland now that Cintar has been won.  Many desired settling back into their city.  I would hate to burden them with the news that greater work lies in store ... not yet.  But I am sure as loyal Turians they will come.  ’

The magician looked to Leopold.  ‘What do you say, Emperor Leopold?  This is your first command given to your Empire.  What will it be?  What would you have them do?’

‘Well ... I don’t know,’ the young man said hesitantly.  ‘Do we need to go?  I was hoping to return to my mother … to give her the news.’

‘It’s too early for that,’ the magician told him squarely.  ‘We have much yet to achieve.’

‘Is it the best option?’

‘It is the only option.’  There was no room for argument.  The magician gazed at Leopold fiercely.  ‘Tell him to give me his ship.’

‘Oh,’ Leopold said uncomfortably, looking to the commander.  ‘Did you hear that?  I suppose I agree.’

Riggadardian shifted uncomfortably.  ‘If you please, Your Majesty, you must state the command directly.’

‘Do you comprehend now, Leopold, what I have been telling you?’ Samuel said.  ‘This is what you will have to deal with.  Confounded Turian stubbornness and bureaucracy.  Tell him!’

Leopold felt squeezed between two unyielding stones.  ‘Of course.  Commander, I agree with Sa—with Lord Samuel.  Provide him with the ship and whatever he needs for such a voyage.  We will go on this journey.  Do as he says.’

‘As you say, my Lord.  We would need a full complement of crew and supplies and as many soldiers as we can muster,’ the commander said, squeezing one eye shut as he mentally studied the logistics.  ‘We can probably gather enough men from across the fleet.  Some may be reluctant.’

‘I will come,’ Captain Orrell declared.  ‘As you say, Samuel, there is no point sitting still while there are more demons to be dispatched.  Captain Valiant is more than capable of managing affairs here.  But we are sorely lacking able-bodied men.  Hopefully as news spreads more will arrive to boost our numbers.  Whatever we do, it is vital that sufficient defence is left behind to guard the civilians.  We must remember, it is their future that we are intending to save.  If we succeed, and there are no people left to return to, what would be the point?  Without the families and children of Turia, we have nothing to protect.’

‘Hmm, well said, Captain,’ Riggadardian said.

‘And we will not be fighting for Turia alone,’ Orrell went on.  ‘From what Samuel says, we will be setting sail to save everyone in Amandia.’

‘Very true,’ the magician confirmed,  ‘and also the world.  Evil knows no borders.  I’m glad you see the logic, Captain.’

Riggadardian’s hesitation became a broad smile as he surveyed the city.  ‘Then so be it!  We will venture upon our quest, and the gallant people of Turia will gather to Cintar to restore her beauty.  Repairs on the city shall begin at once.  At the same time we shall ready the ship.  Send word afar of what we have done.  Let the survivors of our dark years seek haven here.  The pastures are flooded and ruined by the salt of the sea, and we shall flush them clean and re-sow them.  Livestock will graze the paddocks once again.  Cintar will be a sanctuary, a beacon amidst the darkness that has sprawled across Amandia.  Our glorious Empire will flourish again!’

Samuel did not share the man’s optimism.  ‘It will be a beacon only to demons.  The beasts will return and the more people you gather, the more it will attract them.  I hope you ready your defences in time, or your fields will be irrigated with blood.’

‘The fleet will remain on guard until more soldiers arrive,’ Riggadardian confirmed.  ‘The call has gone out to the furthest remnants of the Empire.’

Captain Orrell had grown hesitant.  ‘No amount of soldiers will deter these unnatural creatures.  They fly and burrow, they beat down walls with their fists.  Swords and arrows do not harm them.  Without magicians to aid us, we have little defence against such unnatural fiends.  It has been that way since the Truthseekers decimated their numbers.’

‘Magic is not your friend any more, Captain,’ Samuel replied.  ‘Such summoned beasts are drawn to magic even more than flesh and blood.  Whoever comes to Cintar will need to defend themselves with steel and fire.  Every beast has some weakness.  Train your men to take this advantage.  With sufficient preparation, they will hold on—and that is all they need do, survive long enough for us to complete our task, and our worries will evaporate.  The creatures will disappear as we destroy the one who summoned them, as they did in Cintar.’

‘That did not go as you planned, remember?’ Orrell reminded him.  ‘The Witch Queen died, but her minions remained with her general.  Do you recall?’

‘I do, Captain,’ Samuel replied.  ‘That will fade with time.  Any generals left by Rei are losing their vigour.  In a few days, their armies will disperse.  The same will happen with any others we encounter.  Do not worry.’

‘What about you?’ Leopold asked.  ‘You are a magician.  Will you not draw danger to those beside you wherever you go?’

The Magician Lord smiled.  ‘I am the exception to the rule, Your Majesty.  Most demons know better than to come looking for me.  Everyone flees from my name, or have you not noticed?’

‘If demons are drawn to magic, the Truthseekers may have done us an unwitting favour by routing them out,’ Commander Riggadardian pondered aloud.

‘As you say,’ Samuel responded.  ‘Replenish your stock of black powder and store it at key points around the city.  That would help with some of the smaller beasts.  Ensure you have a good supply of arrows for the flying ones.  If a big one comes ...’  He shrugged his shoulders.  ‘Hide and hope it goes away.  Even after so many years, none ever breeched the walls of Cintar.  It took a mighty pile of explosives to shatter a single gate—which reminds me, you might want to plug up that hole you made first.’

‘We are onto it,’ Captain Orrell assured him.

‘You Turians are onto everything,’ Daneel said and he slipped down from the upper deck and landed beside them.  ‘Your efficiency astounds me.  I love your people without reserve.’

Orrell raised a questioning brow, unsure if the man was being sarcastic.

‘Then it is settled,’ Samuel declared.  ‘Prepare to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Just one minor matter.  We cannot bring the Emperor,’ Riggadardian retorted.  ‘Turia—indeed all Amandia—needs him here.  He is their hope!’

His objection attracted the magician’s attention.  ‘I have a problem with that, for I promised his father he would come with me.’

‘Madness!’ the commander declared with alarm.

‘Don’t worry, Commander,’ Samuel stated.  ‘He will be as difficult to kill as was his father.  This will be his defining moment.  When he returns, he will be an emperor worth heaping glory upon—not the young whelp you see now.  And if we are not successful, there will be no Turia to return to anyway.  The people have done without him for this long; they will survive a few months longer.’

‘Very well,’ Riggadardian agreed with thinly veiled reluctance.  ‘Turia will persevere without him, as they have all this time, and hope that he will return victorious.  It shall be Emperor Leopold’s Crusade, and our homecoming shall be wreathed in triumph.  The citizens of Cintar will cry out with joy as their Emperor returns!’

Daneel sighed aloud at the commander’s tendency for the dramatic.  ‘Samuel, what about the other two?’ he asked.  ‘And your cousin?  What shall be done with her?’

‘They will all come.  The old fool, the simple-minded boy and Jessicah—they will accompany us.  I pray that the old man finds his senses on the way.’

‘We will need substantial provisions,’ Riggadardian noted, ‘and the Farstride needs to be checked over and prepared for such a substantial journey.  She has done well thus far, yet she is not ready for such a journey.  Lady Wind, we will need your valuable aid once again.’

‘Of course, my husband,’ the Koian woman said humbly.

‘And Emperor Leopold.  We will outfit a proper cabin for you, suitable for such a living treasure of your status.  We will summon carpenters at once and convert the entire upper deck—’

‘No, Commander,’ Lord Samuel told him resolutely.  ‘Make no changes.  There is no time.  The Emperor is happy where he is.’

‘But—but, that room was not intended for him.  It was only for the trip to Cintar.  We put him there at your instruction.  It is not fitting for an emperor.’

‘It is fitting, Commander.’  The finality in the magician’s words made the matter clear.

‘Oh ... very well, Lord Samuel.  You know best.’  Disappointment pervaded the aging commander’s words.

‘Then I suggest you tend to the preparations,’ said Samuel leaving.  ‘Hasten.’

‘One thing, Samuel,’ Orrell asked and the magician stopped and waited mid-stride, aimed away from those that conversed with him.  ‘How did your cousin become a captive of the witch?  How did she survive when everyone else went mad?’

The others in the group stood quietly, expectant of the answer.

Samuel slowly turned to reply, facing them without emotion.  ‘Jessicah has many redeeming qualities, Captain,’ he said.  ‘I can only guess why the witch kept her captive for so long.  Perhaps for some reason I cannot fathom she could not kill her.  Perhaps as a hostage to lure me in?  Whatever the reason, she is free now.  I hope you do not object to her presence.  I would keep her near to me, dear to me as she is.’  He then swivelled his head to glare at Riggadardian.  ‘I trust you can find her suitable quarters, Commander.’

‘Oh, of course,’ the man responded quickly, struggling to think where she could possibly be housed.

‘She can have my cabin,’ Captain Merryweather offered.  ‘I will move my things in with Lieutenant Fillius.  That way she will be next door to you, Lord Samuel.  I hope that is sufficient.’

Samuel assented.  ‘Where is she now?’ he asked, having seen no sign of his cousin on the deck.

‘Resting in my cabin,’ Lady Wind called down.  ‘She is tired from her ordeal and slept long through the night.  If she is to come with us I will arrange some suitable clothes.  She has what she was wearing, and I cannot say it was adequate.’

‘I will leave the details to you.’  With that, the magician continued on his way, climbing past Lady Wind and entering the huge mass of the aftcastle.

Leopold noticed how everyone waited, watching the magician’s black cloth vanish from view before speaking; a menacing feeling departed with him.

‘Leopold.’  Captain Orrell was the first to break that silence.  ‘What happened last night?  Where did the magician take you?’

‘Back to Seakeep.  They were under attack.’

‘Seakeep?’ Riggadardian noted with alarm.

‘Attacked?’ Orrell asked.  ‘What were the casualties?’

‘The casualties were high, Captain, but most of the women and children survived.’

‘This is worrying,’ Riggadardian said.  ‘Why did the blasted magician not tell us this at once?  We should send ships back immediately.’

‘That is a good idea,’ Leopold said.  ‘Samuel drove off the attackers, but it’s feasible they could return.  Mostly, they need help with their wounded.’

‘Then we must send our fastest ships at once,’ Riggadardian said with urgency.  He then stepped aside, giving the orders to Captain Merryweather.

Only Captain Orrell and Daneel were left with Leopold, and the captain led them along the main deck, away from the entranceways to the aftcastle.  He eyed the way leading to Samuel’s quarters to be sure the man was not lingering there.  The three stood by the railing of the ship, great lengths of coarse rope rising up from beside them to steady the nearest mast.

‘Tell me, Leopold,’ Orrell said.  ‘What really happened yesterday?  Samuel has left something unsaid as always—I can feel it.  He will never tell us, and I warrant you are not stubborn as he—and thank goodness for it.’

Leopold gulped and also glanced over his shoulder to be sure Samuel had not returned.  ‘It is as he said, Captain.  Rei had captured Samuel’s cousin for some point of revenge that I do not understand.  I have the feeling the witch had a score to settle with him, but in the end Samuel was the victor.  He left nothing out.’

Orrell let his gaze linger on Leopold.  ‘Well,’ he finally said, ‘at least she is safe.  Well done, Leopold.  You have been with us a short time and already are a veteran of a battle that will make its mark in history.  Now, I have much to prepare.’  He gave Leopold a feisty slap on the back and strode away to begin his work.

Daneel remained, smiling smugly at the youthful Emperor.  He scratched at the side of his eye patch, threatening to dig his finger inside.  Thankfully, he did not.  ‘I’m glad I’m not you,’ he mentioned with mirth.

‘Why is that?’ Leopold responded, suspicious of the one-eyed man’s tone.

Daneel gave a chuckle.  ‘Well ... you are between a stone and a hard place.  On one side you have Samuel—all powerful, all knowing, infuriating—and on the other side you have the Turians and the trappings of their Empire.  You might as well jump overboard now.’

Leopold had guessed the man was not a Turian, judging from his unusual clothes, casual manner and rolling accent.  ‘What should I do?’ Leopold asked.

‘How should I know?  Let’s see how you fare after a few months of it.  Then again, with your blood, you may be up for it.  Your father never fled from a fight, or so I heard.  But I wouldn’t trade places with you for all the gold in the world.’

‘So why are you here then?’ Leopold asked, annoyed at the man’s remarks.

‘I have a job to do.  I owe Samuel my life several times over; I’m repaying the debt.’

‘I notice you did not go ashore with the rest when there was fighting to be done.  You carry a sword, but seem hesitant to use it.  What is it you do here precisely?’

‘I have many trusted uses,’ the man replied, not fazed by Leopold’s insinuations.  ‘Currently I am the ship’s chief pest catcher.’

‘Oh?’ Leopold said with interest.

‘Indeed.  I catch all the rats and vermin that may be attracted here.  Terrible things they are!  They creep around in the dark and poke their whiskers where they shouldn’t be.’

‘So ... why are you always up here on deck and not below in the hold?’

‘Because the rats I catch don’t go down there.  They’re attracted to the bigger cheeses up here.’

‘Oh.  You mean us,’ Leopold stated.

‘That’s right.  And the tastiest cheese of all is Emperor Cheese.  Emperor Cheese appeals to the biggest rats.’

‘Emperor Cheese?’ Leopold repeated sourly.

Daneel chuckled.  ‘I beg your pardon, My Gracious Lord.’  Again, he made his customary flourishing bow and used one hand to shake his cape for effect.  ‘I shouldn’t talk in such riddles, but in truth it amuses me.  Of course, you are the cheese, and I’ve already noticed a vermin or two sniffing around at your door.’

‘Who do you speak of?’ Leopold asked with worry, wondering what he was suggesting.

‘Don’t worry.  Between me and Samuel, you’re as safe as can be.  As long as you don’t go getting yourself into any mischief, that is ... as long as you use your best judgement when determining the company you keep.’

‘Of course,’ Leopold assured him, wondering if Daneel knew more than he was telling.  ‘Then I assume you will be accompanying us on our voyage, to continue this work?’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Daneel replied happily.  ‘I do enjoy the sea air.  It stirs my blood in uncanny ways.’  Leopold felt the man was not being entirely sincere and Daneel laughed in response to his troubled face.  ‘One more matter, my fine lad,’ Daneel told him.  ‘Captain Orrell is a kind-hearted man, who’s not to be taken for a fool.  You will have to lie much better if you intend to deceive him.  A good emperor requires a gilded tongue.  Come see me if you need advice.  I’m something of an expert.’  With that, he also departed, laughing to himself; but not before giving Leopold another sturdy slap on the back, poor Leopold grunting with the blow.

****

A month passed preparing for departure.  Supplies were difficult to accrue and the ship needed to be filled to capacity to survive such an extended ocean crossing.  Besides food they needed cloth, coal, soap, salt, string, rope, vinegar, tar and untold sundries.  Boxes and barrels of all shapes and sizes were sought to store them.  Materials of every kind and many of inconceivable purpose were required, and Lady Wind paid fastidious attention to detail, allowing nothing to chance.

She was put in charge of their logistics, overseeing every aspect of their supplies.  More than that, she was involved in everything that happened on the ship, from the wax that was applied to the hull, to the number of chickens that would be caged in the hutches below deck.  The crew were more afraid of her than any Turian commander, and when she lost her temper they fled from her path, avoiding her demonic remonstrations.  Anyone in her field of view received Koian fury.  If she did not get her way, she had a word in Mister Chapman’s ear, who then dispensed his own flavour of wrath upon the crew.

While many were busy on the Farstride, others picked over every inch of the city, in every attic and cellar and room that remained to find what they needed.  Most of the remaining fleet was sent to scour the outlying islands and towns to the north and south for supplies, to gather the ingredients for black powder from distant mines.

They brought back any who wished to take refuge in the city, and they came in their multitudes, straining the ability to feed them.  Luckily, the Turians had anticipated that and supplies began arriving within days.  Thankfully, no one starved in those first weeks, although many went hungry throughout the rationing.

Several hundred of Rei’s Order returned to sanity after her demise—men and women both, including youngsters who must have been children when she rose to power.  Mercifully, they had no memories of their time under her reign.  They only wondered why they had aged so much in a single night.  Most of her forces had remained demented and were slain by the Turian soldiers on that first eve, or had fled to the hills.

Those who had escaped the attack at Seakeep were brought to live in the palace, for the island keep was rendered uninhabitable, abandoned in favour of repairing Cintar.

Samuel was unseen, remaining in his cabin on the ship—they assumed—only emerging on occasion to foster his incomprehensibility.  He stalked about, raging that they were delayed for too long and demanding they hasten the departure.  Captain Orrell was inevitably called to calmly explain the importance of their preparation and the strains that were already upon his men, and then the magician would return brooding to his cabin.

The third day after the city had been liberated, work commenced on the palace.  Samuel appeared beside the labouring men, and with little warning he shattered the Mage Tower, bringing it down in a tumbling mess of stone and timberwork, sending the men fleeing in a panic; scattering bugs from beneath a lifted stone.  When he was finished, he left without explanation.  When Captain Orrell heard of it he could only shake his head in disbelief.

The floodwaters around Cintar had evaporated quickly; however, it did not bring relief, exposing more rotting bodies that needed to be dealt with; gathered and burnt before they could fester.  The large number of corpses ensured a difficult task.

The air was choked by smoke all that week; a fleshy smell that permeated cloth and skin.  The carcasses of the beasts were worse.  Some had not vanished as expected.  They shivered and popped when they burned, foul smelling liquid boiling out of their wounds.  Air gushed from their throats, causing them to wail even when dead.  Others curled like charred leaves, or shook violently as if preparing to spring back to life—thankfully none did.  The men and women who saw to the task said their prayers and did not look once the fire was lit.

Leopold and Jessicah assisted for many days—Jessicah because she wanted to help however she could, Leopold because the magician had commanded it.  They covered their noses and mouths with tight bandages, as did everyone, and helped drag the bodies into mounds to be burnt.

After the first few days of gathering corpses Leopold felt a changed man.  There were so many maimed and bloated bodies he gradually saw them as logs or bundles of rubbish—certainly not the remains of human beings.  It helped to convince himself of such, for many of the dead were merely youths, younger than he, and many were women.

‘Jessicah,’ Leopold said after they had dragged another cadaver into place.  He untied the cloth around his face, shooed away flies, and looked at her, exhausted.  ‘You can’t take much more of this, and I feel the same.  We’ve been going all day.’

Jessicah stepped away from the row of bodies; they stood in the ruined field beneath the shadow of the city wall.  She was wet with perspiration and she wiped sweat from her brow as she spoke through the cloth of her mask.  ‘I’m tired,’ she said, ‘and there is too much to do.  It will take many days—weeks—to see to them all.’

Leopold shook his head.  ‘We have done enough.  We could gather corpses forever.  I know they need all the help they can get, but I think we could better apply our time.  Let the soldiers and those who are familiar with death continue the work.  We should return to the city and find another way to be useful, one not so heart rending.’

‘It is no easier for them, Leopold,’ she spoke, trudging back to her work.

‘No, you go,’ called a voice.  Captain Orrell had heard them, helping one of his men lay yet another corpse into place from the back of their hand cart.  He coughed, looking at them over his face mask.  ‘Go on.  I’ll catch up,’ he said briefly to the men with him, before approaching Leopold and Jessicah.  ‘You have both seen and done enough here.’  He, too, had weary, reddened eyes from the dust and smoke.  ‘I know Samuel wanted you out here, to see the results of war first hand, but this is enough.  Neither of you need to see any more.  There is much to be done in the palace, as well as here, as you say.  This is no job for a lady and the Emperor should be in his city, not fossicking in the graves.’

‘We carry the dead as well as anyone,’ Jessicah replied stoutly, untying her mask to breath better.

‘And so you have, but you’ve done enough,’ Orrell stated.  ‘You’ve seen the result of war.  Some of us need hearts not filled with grief.  Otherwise, Turia will be an empire of the miserable and the broken-hearted—like me.  Go back to the palace.  I promise, you will have plenty to do.’

‘Very well, Captain,’ Leopold said, eager to agree.

Orrell measured them for a moment, regaining his strength, before he nodded and headed back into the fields, to his men and their cart, as they struggled over the uneven, boggy ground.

‘Such a valiant man,’ Jessicah said.  ‘I wonder what he has seen to put such sorrow into his heart.’

‘Sorrow?  He looks immune to it.’

‘Can you not see it?  He has suffered, but he goes on.  He refuses to falter.’  She watched the captain cross the fields between the scores of carts and barrows being filled with the dead.

‘Turians are stubborn,’ Leopold said.  ‘I know from experience.’

‘True, but it is more than that.  If every man were so gallant, the world would not need swords.  He, too, should be in the palace, but he is here, carrying the dead enemy alongside his men.’

‘They are not the enemy,’ he told her.  ‘Everybody here was once a citizen of Cintar.’  From Jessicah’s reaction he could tell he’d missed her point.  ‘He told us to leave; let us do as he says.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, dragging her eyes from the captain to the city wall.  ‘First, let us rest a moment in the shade.’

After a short spell, they returned into the city, following the shadow of the wall towards the distant open gates, and voyaging through the long, echoing tunnel.

‘It’s not so bad,’ she said abruptly as they crossed the rubble-strewn streets towards the palace.

‘What isn’t?’ he asked.

‘All this,’ she said, gesturing to the destruction around them.  ‘We can fix it.  We can fix everything to the way it was before—if not better.  It’s a city, mere bricks and mortar, easily mended.’

‘I wish I had your confidence,’ he said, harbouring doubt.  Cintar was a forest of ruins, a desert of rubble, stretching in every direction.

‘We have to be confident.  Anything else is to give up.  I won’t give up.  We can make it and Samuel will see us through.’

‘Do you really have so much confidence in him?’ Leopold asked.

‘I do.’

She was a gorgeous woman.  Dressed in functional work clothes, hair tied back and face dirtied, she remained beautiful.  Leopold recalled how she looked on that first night, possessed by Rei, when he could see the outline of her body.  The way she moved had made him shiver, tingling his nerves.  She was older than him by ten years at least, but she had been preserved in youth by Rei’s magic or some power he did not understand.  He wished to be with her, to touch her, to kiss her; she shared none of those desires.

Her eyes lingered on the captain whenever he was near.  She peeked at him from beneath her long lashes, stealing glances, the want of a bashful maiden.  Leopold knew he should not care about such things, yet his jealousy consumed him.

‘Leopold?’  Jessicah’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

‘What’s that?’  He had not heard anything she had been saying: a captive to his thoughts.

‘I said he has never let us down before.  He saved me; he saved the city and the people of Seakeep.’

Leopold grunted.  ‘Oh—Samuel.  Yes.  But only because of you.  If you were not there to fuel his guilt, he would not have considered it.’

‘Why do you have such little belief in him, Leopold?’

‘He killed my father.  That is enough.’

‘I’m sorry.  He mentioned it to me,’ she admitted.  ‘He said he had no choice; your father was adamant it had to be done.’

‘So he keeps telling me.  That does not mean I should forgive him.’

‘True.  But there are many examples of his goodness.  Look at Toby and Salu ... only a kind man would shelter two such unfortunate souls.’

Again he scoffed.  ‘Those two?  Samuel needs the old man, and the two of them come packaged together.  If not, he would have left them to fend for themselves long ago.  He kicks them whenever he passes; I’ve seen him.  There’s no chivalry in that.  He’s the rudest person I’ve met—and that’s saying something considering some of the fishermen I’ve known.’

‘That’s just his way,’ she said.  ‘He’s only trying to make you stronger, to prepare you for who you need to be.’

‘I don’t need to be anyone else.  Who I am is enough.  I could never trust him as you do.  He’s using me for his own selfish purposes.  He’s using all of us.’

‘Leopold,’ she said disappointedly, ‘what reason could he have to do that?’

‘You’ve heard him.  He is obsessed with saving his devil son.’

‘That’s not all he speaks about.  Leopold, if you don’t believe in Samuel, how can anyone?  It’s your duty to give your people hope, and Samuel can make that hope into reality.  That’s what magic is for, and he needs our support, our belief.  Have faith in him, Leopold.’

‘Never!’ he replied, indignant.

He scowled and looked away as they passed a crowd of children playing in the remains of Saint Veddum’s Cathedral—three walls around a slew of stones and smouldering timbers.  Stained glass lay in shattered rainbows around the children’s feet.

‘Tell me,’ Leopold prompted, changing the topic.  Despite their differences in opinion, he was reluctant to offend her.  ‘Do you remember anything of the years since the Darkening?’

‘Samuel asked me the same.  I remember sounds and images, little else.  Dreams are difficult to remember once the dreamer awakes.’  She too gazed over the broken world around them.  ‘I find it difficult to accept so much time has passed.  I feel the same, I look the same ... everything else has changed, except for Samuel.  He is my anchor—I hold to him to affirm my sanity.’

‘Have the years passed quickly for you?’ he asked her.  Samuel had expressly forbidden him to talk about her past, but Leopold did not care if she learned the truth.  So be it if he upset the magician.

‘Only flashes, moments,’ she said.

‘Do you remember anything of Rei?’

She halted.  ‘What is that?’

‘Hmm,’ Leopold stumbled, unsure of how much to say.

‘What is it?’

‘No, never mind.  I shouldn’t have brought it up.’   ‘Samuel was right.  You need more time,’ he added.

‘Please, tell me.’

‘You were a different person when we first met.  You spoke with a different voice.  Someone else was controlling you.  It was Rei, the Witch Queen.  You were her.  You were the one that caused all this.’

‘No,’ Jessicah responded, shaking her head in denial.

‘You were the one directing the Order.  You summoned the beasts.’

She looked at him, aghast.  ‘Can this be true?’

‘So Samuel says.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have told you.’

‘How could it be so?  I would never commit such atrocities.’

‘It was the witch inside of you.  It was not your fault.  The soldiers would be furious if they knew it.  Only Samuel and I know.  We will keep it our secret.  Please ... forget I told you.  I should have remained silent.’

‘No,’ Jessicah said assuredly, striding away.  Leopold hurried in step.  ‘You were right to tell me.  If I was responsible for this, I should know.  I ... I can’t believe it, and yet it makes sense.’

‘I’m sorry.  Please, don’t tell Samuel.  He needs no more reason to detest me.’

‘He doesn’t detest you, Leopold.’  Her long strides stopped abruptly.  She was quiet, before speaking again, softly, with contemplation.  She grasped Leopold’s hands and spoke into his eyes.  ‘I remember a long dream from which I could not awake.  I wandered aimlessly without avail through darkness.  I could not see.  I sensed a presence and found my way towards it.  I came across a fire, white as snow.  It kept me warm and I sheltered beside it.  It smelled of fresh rain on grass.  It hummed a deep and resounding tune that offered love and protection.  I know something terrible was hovering out of sight, wanting me, but it could not near the light.  I woke up to you and Samuel.’  She gave the young man who stood with her a questioning glance.  ‘Do you know what it means?’

Leopold shook his head.

‘Neither do I,’ she said, releasing his hands.

They continued their journey to the palace, Jessicah remaining quiet and pensive.

****

As soon as the dead had been cleared, work turned towards repairing the fields and pastures on the plain, scarred and furrowed with gullies from the runoff, caked in layers of salt.

Captain Valiant, now in charge of the reparation, sent his men to fix the irrigation channels from the Bardlebrook River, flushing the salty crust away.  The first batch of rains helped, and by the time the Farstride was ready to sail, the first crops were sprouting to the north of the city.

The city remained in ruins.  The debris from the towers had been removed and portions of the palace made liveable again—although far from its original state.

Leopold and Jessicah spent many hours together during those preparatory weeks.  They helped wherever they could, mending walls, sewing clothes and assisting in the kitchens.  Leopold learnt new skills, and Jessicah just as many.  She hauled bricks as ably as he, and Leopold wielded needle and thread, under her patient guidance, if only it meant remaining in her company.  She was not frail, as Samuel often suggested.  To Leopold she was the most capable woman he had met—frequently reminding him of his mother.  Still, her eyes were for Captain Orrell, and although the two rarely spoke, her face shone every time the man entered her view.

A cruel, festering jealousy crawled beneath Leopold’s skin, inching towards his heart, and he could not ignore it.  Every time Jessicah’s face filled with delight, he scowled, and the captain became someone to detest.  If he could, Leopold would have him left behind in Cintar while they went away on their adventure, but Leopold quickly realised he had little, if any, real power.  The officers made the decisions, while he was a figurehead, saluting to the crowds as he walked, addressing the sorry survivors of Cintar.

Leopold began to brood, resenting the city and its survivors, always pestering him, calling for his blessings.  When he heard the Farstride would soon depart, he was thankful to leave the broken city behind.

***

The new Emperor Leopold was folding his shirts, readying to return to the ship after several weeks, when he gained the uncomfortable feeling of someone standing behind him.

He eyed the sword sitting in its sheath on the covers beside him, folding at the same time, his pace unfaltering.  He counted down from five in his head, intent on surprising the intruder.  Reaching zero, he grabbed the sword and pulled it free, spinning in the same movement to face the door and crying out ‘Aha!’ as was apt in such situations.

No one was there.  The space was empty and the door was shut.  Shaking his head, a nervous fool, Leopold retrieved his scabbard and pressed his blade safely inside.

‘No, no, no,’ scolded a voice of disappointment and Leopold dropped his weapon in fright.  ‘Why attack the poor, defenceless doorway?  What has it ever done to you?  I am over here!’

It was Tulan Goodwin, perched on the window sill.  He stepped down and smiled at Leopold warmly.  Leopold needed a moment to recover from the surprise and recognise the figure with the tight, triangular beard and moustache, perching above.

‘It’s you again.’  Leopold was relieved it had not been Samuel swooping in to chastise him or set him back to work, as he frequently did.

‘Yes, I have returned to see how you are faring.  I see Cintar has been retaken—for what it’s worth.  There’s more broken than remains standing.  Tell me, what of Samuel?  What have you learned?’

Leopold saw to the door and ensured it was bolted, before stepping closer to Tulan to reveal what he knew.

‘I have seen him use the box.  He rests inside when he is spent.  He said it is so his demons do not overcome him.’

‘Ah,’ Tulan mused.  ‘That would explain it.  I was right to assume as much.  He has truly been subverted by the black arts.’  He shook his head.  ‘The fool should have known, better than anyone.  He is our enemy, Leopold—the enemy of the good and the righteous.  Tell me, how often does he use his box?’

‘I cannot say for sure.  He stays on the ship and I have not dared enter his room at night.  I believe he only needs it when he has pushed himself too far—when he has used too much magic, but I could be mistaken.  Perhaps he uses it every night?  No, now I think of it that could not be so.  It’s common knowledge he doesn’t sleep at all, and I’ve seen evidence of this myself.  He sits awake all night, looking straight ahead.’

‘Intriguing.  Then I know what to do.  We need to catch him in his box.  Inside, he is helpless, a trap of his own design.  It renders him invulnerable to demons, but vulnerable to us!  We must catch him unawares and lock him into it.’

‘It has latches,’ Leopold offered.

‘Good, good,’ Tulan mused happily.  ‘Can you help me?’

‘I—I don’t know how.’  It was one thing to give information, another to attempt fooling Samuel.  The diabolical magician knew everything.  ‘What can I do?’

Tulan stalked the room, scratching his chin in contemplation.  ‘You must find a way.  We cannot force him.  We must trick him.  We must be extremely careful.’

‘I can ask him to sit in it ... to explain how it works.’

Tulan stopped pacing and looked to Leopold expectantly.  ‘Does he trust you?’

‘No,’ Leopold admitted; then he had a clever thought.  ‘Jessicah is the only one he trusts.’

‘Jessicah?’ Tulan said with interest.  ‘Jessicah is here?’

‘Yes.  You know her?’

Tulan smiled in jubilation.  ‘I know of her.  I heard much of her when he was young; when we were both much younger.  Why, if his precious Jessicah would ask him, he would do anything.  That would do finely.  Can you do it?  Would she help you?’ he asked of Leopold eagerly.

‘I—I don’t know.  I can try.  I am not sure she would knowingly bring him harm.’

‘Of course she wouldn’t—don’t be naive.  You’ll have to mislead her, too.  Take her to his room and get her to ask him to lie in the box.  Lock the lid—done!  I will wait at a distance.  When I feel his presence diminish I will come.  If I remain close he will sense me.  Plus, I will need to put a spell upon your mind.’

‘Oh?’

‘He can read your thoughts and will know you seek to deceive him the moment you set foot in the door.’

‘He can?’ Leopold said with wonder, realising how the magician guessed his every move.

‘He knows we met before,’ Tulan admitted.  ‘It would have been foolish of me to try and hide the fact.  I will partition off a tiny section of your mind—just the finer details of our deception.  He knows you despise him, so murderous thoughts will be of no surprise.  I have reinforced our mention of Jessicah, so he will think we spoke mostly about her.  That is natural enough, as long as he has no reason to delve deeper than that.  If he discovers my spell and unravels it … well, you will find out the result.’  Leopold nodded in understanding.  ‘There.  The spell is set.’

Leopold felt no different and took the man’s statement at face value.  ‘We return to the ship tonight.  If Samuel is there I will take Jessicah to visit him.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Tulan told him solemnly.  ‘He’ll be there.’

****

Leopold and Jessicah sat in the shallow cockboat, bound for the Farstride.  It was late, for they had waited long for an available vessel to carry them.  With several supply ships having arrived from other parts of Amandia, all craft were busy carting goods to the Farstride.

Turian sailors guided them across the dark bay, gliding between the distant lights of the palace and the glowing form of the Farstride.  As they gently rocked, Leopold cogitated over his plan.

‘You are nervous,’ Jessicah said beside him.  ‘Don’t be.  Samuel will keep us safe.  The journey will be done soon enough.’

‘It’s not that,’ he replied uncomfortably.  ‘These men depend on me, and I am a mere fisherman’s son, without any idea how to be their Emperor.  I do not know about ruling a nation, or an empire, or anything of the kind.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Jessicah told him.  ‘Give them something to hope for.  Keep your chin up and your face brave.  That’s what everyone needs—hope.’

‘I am tired of the way he treats me.  If the people are to believe in me, he cannot mock me.  It’s degrading.  It undermines my authority.’

‘I agree with you this time, Leopold.  He does not think about it like that.  He thinks of it as toughening you up.  He has become disconnected from society in many ways and doesn’t realise your discomfort.’

‘I think he realises,’ Leopold disagreed.

‘Have you talked to him about it?’

‘He doesn’t listen to anything I say.  He calls me “boy” and taunts me.  He refuses to speak civilly.  I will plead with him tonight and try once more.’  Hope quickened his voice as he laid the seeds of his plan.  ‘Will you come with me, and help explain?  He’ll be willing to listen to anything if it comes from you.’

‘Of course, Leopold,’ she said.  ‘But it is late, perhaps we should speak with him in the morning?’

‘I prefer it done now.  I’ve spent all day motivating myself.  Besides, he doesn’t sleep.  He will be sitting in his room, waiting, as always.  His room has no bed, only a tiny hammock, and I doubt he uses that.  I’ve tried convincing him to lie down and have a rest, but he stubbornly refuses.  It would do him a world of good.’

‘Well, let’s chat with him, shall we?’

Leopold felt pleased as they coursed gently across the dark bay.  They could see their destination, the Farstride, illuminated by lamplight ahead, surrounded by a host of supporting craft of all sizes.

On arrival they were forced to wait yet again, for the sea around the Farstride was filled with similar bobbing vessels to their own, piled with boxes, sacks and supplies.  Some had caged pigs, goats or chickens crowded upon them.  Several boats were fully loaded with more of the red-ringed, black-powder barrels and Leopold was glad such boats were keeping their distance.  The men on those waited nervously, hoping to be speedily relieved of their cargo.

With a call from their escorts that the Emperor had arrived, Leopold and Jessicah were finally given some priority, and they jostled to the front, promptly hoisted aboard with the loading equipment.  Leopold loathed sitting in the vessel as it was raised.  It was an unsettling ride.

Although it was late, the main deck was bustling, and Salu was in the middle of it, sitting on an upturned bucket, watching the men hurry by.  Leopold had rarely seen him over the past month.  As it was told, he spent his days wandering the city, tapping his stick on the ruins that lined the streets.  None fell down and crushed him, proving he possessed luck if nothing else.

Leopold called to the old man as they passed and was surprised when Salu’s head tilted slightly towards him.  Even such small recognition was unusual.

Toby swung from a low rigging by his arms; the young monkey howled joyfully.

‘Come on,’ Leopold said to Jessicah.  ‘Let’s see your cousin now.  The men will take care of our bags.’

She agreed and they climbed to the second deck and went along the passage to the officers’ cabins.  Samuel’s was at the end, one door past Jessicah’s.

They stopped at the door and Leopold listened intently.

‘Are you going in or not?’ enquired Jessicah.

‘Should I knock?’

‘Well, the light’s extinguished.  Perhaps he’s asleep.’

Leopold pushed the door ajar and peered inside.  Darkness inhabited the room.  He opened it further and stepped quietly inside, light following from the corridor, throwing his shadow upon the opposite wall.  Lettering gleamed in the darkness halfway across the room, engraved into a polished surface of black.

‘Is he asleep?’ Jessicah asked behind him.

‘I’m not sure,’ Leopold whispered.

She crept in after him.  ‘Why are you whispering?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I see the lantern,’ Jessicah stated, and as she reached for what was hanging against the wall, glinting in the dark, it bloomed to life before she could touch it and the room was awash with its brilliant light.

The glare caught them standing beside the wall, the magician’s casket engulfing the centre of the room, raised from the floor upon a short table.  A miserable-looking hammock hung in the corner.

Leopold surveyed the room.  ‘He’s not here.  Let’s come back later—’

‘Why leave so soon?’ a voice sounded behind them.

Samuel was sitting in the shadow of the door, his back against the wall, his legs extended and his hands clasped on his lap, wearing his eternal magician’s black.

‘What are you doing there in the dark!’  Leopold fought his ruffled nerves.  ‘You send my bowels to water!’

‘I didn’t know my room had a code of behaviour,’ Samuel replied.  He moved his head the subtle amount required to face his cousin.  ‘Jessicah, it’s nice to see you aboard.  I trust you are ready for the journey, and that Leopold did not overly wear your patience.’

‘I am,’ she said warmly.  ‘And no, he did not.’

‘What has brought you both skulking inside my room?  Neither of you has a dagger in your hand, so I assume you haven’t come to kill me.’  Leopold laughed nervously at the suggestion.  ‘Chitchat, perhaps?  It’s a bit late for that.  It must be important to have you up at such an hour, and abandoning such a common politeness as knocking.  I’d almost think you were up to something.’

Leopold thought about launching into the conversation he had planned, chiding Samuel for not lying down and resting: the premise suddenly seemed rather feeble.

‘We were worried about you,’ he ventured.  ‘We haven’t seen you in the past weeks.  Are you well?’

‘I am fine; thank you for your concern.  We magicians happily pass months pondering the mysteries of the most banal.  You have been keeping Jessicah company.  That is good to see—as long as you haven’t been leading her astray.’

‘Oh, no!’ Leopold declared.

‘So,’ the magician asked seriously.  ‘Tell me.  Why have you come?’

‘Jessicah wanted to see your casket.  She wants to see what happens to you once inside.  Do you disappear or are you merely sleeping?’ he added, laughing nervously, his voice racing.

Jessicah threw Leopold a questioning glance and he smiled subtly to subdue her concern.

‘Well, that’s easily remedied,’ Samuel affirmed.  He rose from his chair, approached the casket and heaved open the creaking lid.  Leopold felt a rush of excitement as he felt victory close.  ‘Why don’t you step in and find out for yourself?’

The young Emperor’s spirits plummeted.  ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘If you’re worried, try it.  Look.  It’s padded and comfortable.’

Leopold swallowed nervously at his predicament.  He looked for help from Jessicah, who was of no use.  She had no knowledge of his plan and smiled contentedly.

‘Leopold, you look startled.  I didn’t realise my presence was so overwhelming.  Jessicah?’ Samuel prompted, looking to her expectantly.  ‘Why don’t you have a try while Leopold recovers his wits.’

‘Of course,’ she said happily, and with Samuel’s help she sat in the box and lay down.

‘Watch your head.’  The magician smiled and gently lowered the lid.  ‘There.  It’s closed,’ he said to Leopold.  ‘She can’t hear us.  And presently, doesn’t exist.  I was tempted once to forge a small window into the side to see what happened once the lid was shut.  Unfortunately, it is not that easy to spy upon its secrets.  Just by observation, the spell would be broken.’

‘Oh,’ was all Leopold could say, desperate as he was to escape.  He suspected that Samuel knew what he was up to, and he was soon to be the recipient of something unpleasant in return.

‘Shall we let her out?’  Samuel moved, then paused before lifting the lid.  ‘One thing, Leopold; don’t tell her any more tales about her time as the Witch Queen.  Her mind needs time to recover.  She doesn’t need to learn she was responsible for extinguishing copious innocent lives.  She is frail and innocent, Leopold.  Do not burden her with such worries.  I will reveal the truth to her when she is ready.’

‘Oh, I didn’t—’ Leopold began, but Samuel’s raised eyebrow shut him up abruptly.

‘Let’s open her up,’ the magician said.  He opened the casket and Jessicah was of course still inside, her eyes open and looking up at them.

‘That was quick,’ she said, sitting up and accepting Samuel’s hand to help her out.  ‘Don’t I get to try it longer?’

‘It doesn’t get any better or worse,’ the magician told her with a shrug.  ‘How was it?’

‘It’s like a bed.  I could become accustomed to it—if it didn’t resemble a coffin.  Go on, Leopold,’ she urged.

The magician agreed.  ‘Yes, Leopold, it’s an experience I’m sure you will remember.’

Leopold glanced between the two of them, and Samuel waited, smug, tapping his fingers on the casket, sounding a rhythm.

‘In you go.’  The magician watched Leopold with amusement.

‘Well, I don’t really—’

‘Nonsense! Get in and be done with it.  We can’t wait all night and no one will sleep until you get this over with.  I can see you’re keen.  Get in.’

Leopold could not resist, and slowly, unhappily, he clambered in.

‘Should I take off my boots?’ he said, caught with his hands in the box and one knee hovering over the side.

‘Not necessary.’  Samuel’s smugness grew.

Leopold wondered if the magician knew everything about his plans with Tulan, and he lay on his back in the coffin.  There was nowhere comfortable to rest his hands, so he crossed them upon his chest, just as they did with the dead.  He shivered at the thought.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ Samuel told him.  ‘Knock when you want to come out,’ and the last thing Leopold saw was the magician smiling knowingly and Jessicah waving him goodbye with a wiggle of her pretty fingers.

The box fell dark, just for an instant, before brightness returned and the lid opened again.  Jessicah was laughing and as Samuel leaned over, Leopold witnessed the end of a grin as it left the magician’s face.

‘How was that?  Did you enjoy it?’

‘It was fine.’  Leopold sat up, lifted his boots out over the side and climbed out.  ‘You didn’t wait for me to knock.’

‘But, Leopold,’ Jessicah began, ‘you were in there for over an hour.  We waited and thought you must have fallen asleep.  Samuel thought it best not to disturb you, so we chatted away the time.’

‘Nearly three hours,’ Samuel corrected.

‘Oh!’ Jessicah said with surprise.  ‘Was it that long?  It has been wonderful to sit and talk, although now it must be nearly morning.’  She yawned.  ‘Oh, excuse me,’ she said with embarrassment.  ‘I see it’s caught up with me.’

‘Three hours?’  Leopold was astonished.

‘There is no time inside the box, Leopold,’ Samuel said.  ‘That’s the point.  You cease to exist and any demons inside have nothing to sustain them.  Their thirst is quelled and their shouts subside.  I hope your questions have been answered and your fears allayed.’

‘And we had a pleasant chat while you were in there,’ Jessicah mentioned.  ‘I told Samuel everything you told me, and he promised not to make fun of you anymore.’

‘I did,’ Samuel said.  His face, positioned where Leopold could clearly see it and Jessicah could not, said quite the opposite.  ‘I’m terribly sorry if I acted unreasonably, Leopold.  I’ll be sure to make it up to you.’

Leopold moaned at the thought.  ‘Well,’ he said, dejected by his failure.  He hoped Tulan had not waited all that time.  ‘Perhaps we should go.’

‘Yes,’ Jessicah agreed.  She embraced Samuel, and let herself out.  ‘Come on, Leopold.  You need your rest, too.’

‘Good night,’ the magician called behind them, closing his door.

‘That went well,’ Jessicah said as they returned down the passage.

‘Did it?’ Leopold said glumly.  ‘He tricked me again!’

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘Don’t worry.  It’s nothing.’

They stepped onto the balcony, the deck below being much quieter than before.  Most lanterns had been extinguished and only a dozen men mulled about, finishing their duties as the sky to the east lightened with the coming dawn.

‘Good night, Leopold,’ Jessicah bid him and returned down the passage to her cabin beside Samuel’s.

Leopold thought about heading straight for his room, but he was keen to speak with Tulan and explain what happened.  The man must have been waiting all night.

He climbed the stairs and strode along the top of the aftcastle, searching for any sign of him.  The aft section was cloaked in shadow, hidden away from the waking sky.  Someone was standing there and Leopold walked towards the dim silhouette, delving into the stubborn remnants of night.  A figure waited to greet him as he neared.

‘Tulan?’ Leopold questioned in the dark.

‘Was that his name?’ the person replied, a pipe in his hand, his face illuminated by its red glow.  The patch on one eye revealed his identity.  ‘Or else it is a fine guess on your behalf.’

Daneel gazed towards the deck, and Leopold’s eyes followed.  His vision was still adjusting to the dark, but he could see a person laid at Daneel’s feet, cloaked in dark green cloth, his face pale and mouth open, caught in the anguish of his death.  It was Tulan.

‘You killed him,’ Leopold said, sickened by the sight.

‘I did,’ Daneel said factually.  ‘I know you had nothing to do with it, as a young man of sound mind would not invite strange magicians on board the ship.  Luckily I was standing here when he tried to sneak aboard, only several moments ago.’

‘But why?  Why did you kill him?’

‘That’s what I do, Your Majesty.  I protect those on board and I kill magicians when the opportunity arises.  In this case, I happened to fulfil both my responsibilities at once.’  He squatted, searching inside the dead man’s pockets, finding nothing to interest him.

‘You what?’ Leopold gasped in disbelief.  ‘You kill magicians?  You—you’re a Truthseeker?’

Daneel looked up at him, pipe gripped between his teeth, and he plucked it out to speak.  ‘Aren’t we all?  No, I jest ... I am,’ he said, nodding.  ‘I am a Truthseeker.  There’s no avoiding it now, I suppose.’

‘How can that be?’ Leopold said, nervously looking for assistance.

Daneel stood and breathed back on his pipe, before putting his fingers to his lips and letting out a shrill, smoke-filled whistle.  Several armed men hurried along the side of the ship towards him.

‘Get rid of this,’ Daneel told them and the men dutifully plucked up Tulan’s body and carried it away.  ‘We can’t dump bodies in the water, can we?’ Daneel said to Leopold.  ‘Not after all the good work we’ve done cleaning up the bay.’

‘If you are a Truthseeker, why have you not killed Samuel?  Why let me know?  Are you going to kill me, too?’  The last question caught in his throat, and his voice warbled feebly.

‘I wouldn’t kill you, Your Majesty.  What a silly notion.  I am telling you I am a Truthseeker because there is no point lying.  I know you are helpless.  Now you know the truth, I trust you realise the seriousness of your situation and will begin behaving properly.  And as for killing Samuel ... well, I couldn’t kill him, could I?  Couldn’t even if I wanted to.  I wouldn’t know how.  I tried once, long ago, but didn’t have much luck.  Never seemed much point trying again.’

‘Does he know?’

‘Of course,’ Daneel admitted.  ‘He knows everything.  But we’ve been acquaintances long enough not to let such a matter come between us.’

Leopold shook his head with confusion.  ‘How can this be?  Why hasn’t he done something?’

‘Why don’t you ask him and find out; otherwise,’ he leant forward and whispered loudly across the space between them, ‘it’s better if you keep this to yourself.’  He stood straight again.  ‘My interest is in protecting you and those aboard.  If no one else sneaks aboard, we shall have no more problems, shall we?  And one more thing.  Don’t forget my prior advice: if you’re going to lie, you’d better start doing a better job of it.’

Leopold backed away, desperate and distraught that he had caused the death of Tulan.  He was sure that Samuel knew everything: that Leopold had sought to trap him, that Tulan was waiting to sneak aboard.  But why would he side with a Truthseeker, an enemy of magicians?  It made no sense.

Scrambling along the edge of the ship, Leopold hurried down from the top of the aft deck and found his cabin.  In the darkness, he sensed Salu and Toby resting in their beds, and he latched the door firmly and disrobed to his underclothes.  As he lay in his bed, he kept his father’s sword near, fingers pressed upon its hilt.  He knew it would not help him against Samuel or indeed anyone, given his feeble skills, yet it calmed his nerves.

His chest heaved as he tried to still his frantic thoughts.  He had killed Tulan, he thought, as good as if he had stabbed the man himself.  No.  Samuel had killed him.  Daneel had held the blade, but Samuel was the one responsible.  Another innocent had fallen victim to the magician’s insidiousness.  Leopold was sure this was part of Samuel’s scheme to drag them across the world to a foul end.  But why? he asked himself.  How did it all connect?

The sun was rising and he found no answers.  Exhaustion smothered his thoughts and despite his intentions otherwise, sleep took him swiftly into its folds.

****

Once everything had been triple checked, the signal was given for the Farstride to depart.  Every ship that could still float was gathered around the bay, full of as many people as they could carry, waving and cheering as the mighty ship commenced its epic voyage.  The fleet was considerably diminished from the earlier battle, for many ships had been scavenged for parts and materials for both the Farstride and the palace.

The Farstride’s enormous masts filled with cloth one after another, pale blossoms expanding upon the slender branches of Spring, filling the empty spaces above the deck with their taut curvature.  Each sturdy hemp sail was rolled out carefully and in order, from the largest at the base to the smallest up high—each one doing its part to harness the wind and send the vessel on her way.

The ship heaved herself out of the bay into the ocean proper, leaving the cheering throngs securing the capital—the last remnants of a mighty civilisation, cowering in the ruins of Cintar.  A few craft followed on the waves, escorting them away from the coast and out of sight of the city.  Slowly, each one peeled away and returned to land, until the Farstride was driving westwards alone across the high seas.

Leopold stood at the bow, watching the vessel push through the waves, throwing translucent sheets of spray to each side, edged with strips of foam.  The wind was tight in the sails and they made good speed from the start.  The ship was surprisingly swift for her size and further improvements had been applied after her short maiden voyage to Cintar, gaining small but precious efficiencies.

As the mainland disappeared, Leopold felt the nervousness of all small-boat fishermen being out of sight of land, and as the hours passed, the air of adventure faded, and those not needed on deck wandered away.  The horizon remained a featureless membrane separating two shades of blue, nothing else in sight.  Leopold returned to his room.

Salu was there with Toby.  This time, the boy was on his knees and elbows on the floor, watching a marble slowly roll around of its own accord, following the rolling of the ship, slight as it was.  The hole in the wall had been patched with remarkable workmanship.  The replaced section was obviously a mismatch for the wall around it, yet an impressive repair under the conditions.

Pfft! thought Leopold.  What kind of an emperor am I?  Stuffed inside a tiny cabin with two idiots, unable to give any meaningful commands, and tied to the mercy of a deranged magician.  Everyone on board is mad.  That was the problem, he mused.  He was the only sane one aboard.  Perhaps he should lose all good reason like the rest for his misery to end.

Leopold’s thoughts were interrupted by the barely audible muttering from opposite him.

Salu was sitting on his bunk, knees together and head down staring at his feet, his staff clutched in his hands.  His mouth moved constantly, a subtle murmuring escaping.  Leopold, determined to hear what the old fool was saying, sat opposite and listened intently.

When no words came, Leopold offered his own.  ‘I wanted to thank you for trying to save me from the witch.’  It had been some time since the day of that battle, and he had not the opportunity to speak with Salu since.  He waited for a response or recognition from the old man; none came.  ‘You must understand me, or otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to save me.  Samuel must think you have some value if he has not yet abandoned you.  Tell me, what goes through your head?’

Again, no change: the perpetual muttering continued and Leopold shifted to beside him, leaning closer to hear what was said.  All he heard was incomprehensible—meaningless fragments of words, random sounds and grunts.  Frustrated, Leopold returned to his bunk for a nap.

***

The ship sailed on without event and there was no sign of Samuel in the days to come.  He was in his cabin and had left word not to be disturbed.  Leopold was thankful for that, for no magician was a good magician.

The Farstride drove westwards across the limitless expanse of water—at times remarkably flat, at others the waves became rolling mountains.  Their vessel weathered any tempest and after two weeks of sailing, they met the northernmost tip of the Spice Islands, and followed their crescent-shaped path into the south.

The northern islands were mostly unpopulated, but as they crawled southwards, they reached the larger, inhabited isles famous for their unusual spices and goods.  Regular Amandian vessels took a month or more to reach these shores, hopping between land as they must.  The Farstride could break away from the shallows and carve across the deepest, roughest seas without worry, saving precious time.

The people here had always been low in number, but they had grown especially timid since the Darkening—since strange and murderous creatures had begun prowling the skies and crawled from the seas.

Islanders shared the dark hair and olive skin of Lady Wind, but their hair was tight and frizzy instead of straight and they retained the large facial features of Amandia.  They gladly traded fresh fruits and vegetables with the ship, eager to return inland to their hidden homes, to be safely out of the open away from possible attack.  They had abandoned their seaside villages and towns, in favour of the sheltered depths of the forests.

The Farstride stayed a night offshore, dropping anchor for a well-deserved rest, and to check how the ship had dealt with its first few weeks of travel.  They needed the respite to investigate problems with the pumps and water seeping into the hull.  It was easily fixed.  The engineers were only thankful the problem had been found early.

King Pantu and his family came down from the jungle that evening to light a giant bonfire and lay on a feast.  His people played their drums and tightly stringed ju-ju’s and sang harmoniously the night through.  The King had recently taken on his role after his father—also King Pantu—had been slain with many of the town warriors, defending the village from a horde of amphibious lizards that emerged from the ocean with a taste for human flesh.  Samuel had declared no such dangers in the near vicinity, and that had been enough cause for a celebratory banquet.

Most of the Farstride’s crew and passengers had been allowed ashore, filling the beaches and eating from the roast boar spaced along the beach, cooked on beds of hot coals.  Leopold had questioned the lack of frugality in such a desperate time; King Pantu was adamant that with half the village lost and the same on the nearby islands, the wild boar populations had soared.  A feast was the perfect excuse to cull their numbers.

The ladies smiled and danced for the gallant crew and their men folk played and sang: an enjoyable evening for all.

‘Has your stomach settled?’ Leopold asked of Jessicah as she nibbled at her meal, for she had not coped well with sea travel over the last few days and her nausea was testament.  They were seated at the edge of the forest, where the grass met the sand, forming a natural step on which to sit.

‘Better,’ she said.  ‘I’m glad to be back on land; although, I was getting used to the rolling at sea.  Now it feels like the island is moving.’

‘What about everything else?’

‘Do you mean up here?’  She tapped the side of her head and Leopold nodded.  ‘Better, too.  Also settled.’

‘That’s good.’

Jessicah had experienced nightmares since leaving the coast of Amandia.  Samuel thought it may be Rei fighting for control, yet he could do nothing to address it.  He had recommended a concoction of crushed herbs boiled in water to help her sleep and thankfully that was working.

Leopold was about to speak with her more, when she spied Captain Orrell further down the beach in a huddle with a handful of his men.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, rising to her feet, not taking her eyes off the man.  ‘I need to speak with the good captain.’

‘Of course,’ Leopold said and she walked away with her bare feet crunching upon the sand.  He watched her leave, pained she had chosen the captain’s company over his and that she was not interested in him in the slightest, smitten with a man who looked old enough to be her father.

She was the only one Leopold felt comfortable talking with, but he could not rein in his envy.  Samuel had taken away his father, killed Tulan, and Captain Orrell would take away Jessicah.  Stories often spoke of the hard lives of great leaders, and he was beginning to understand how they felt.

As Leopold was sitting and picking at his pork bone with his teeth, absorbed in his thoughts, someone walked up to be on the sand beside him.  The fellow was upon Leopold before he noticed, silent were his footsteps.

‘I haven’t seen such a celebration in quite a while,’ the man mentioned with a deep and friendly voice, sitting beside him with a smile.

Leopold made the effort to look up, and was genuinely surprised.  The newcomer’s skin was dark; darker than the islanders—resembling a rich and earthy soil—with a short grey-stubbled beard.  He was not part of the crew, his clothes were simple civilian wear, yet he also did not wear the colourful island wrap-around the locals preferred.  He must have come from the ship, though with such a large crew and so many people aboard, it was no wonder Leopold did not recognise him.

‘Do I know you?’ Leopold asked.

‘Not at all, Emperor Leopold,’ the man said warmly.

He had a rising-falling accent Leopold had not previously encountered—dissimilar to Lady Wind’s hesitant, fluttering words, different again to Daneel’s lilting tone.

‘Well, not yet,’ the stranger continued.  ‘Let me introduce myself.  My name is Lomar, once called Lord Lomar and before that Lomar the Great.  Further back I had even more titles besides.  I prefer simpler names these days.  Simpler is usually better.  I find that, especially as I grow older.’  The man paused, waiting for a reaction from Leopold.  ‘I see you have not heard of me?  That is a good sign.  It means Samuel has not been cursing my name in front of you.’

Leopold choked as he realised who he was speaking with.  He had heard Samuel speak the name of Lomar—Poltamir’s servant.

Soldiers were laughing and having second helpings of dinner by the bonfire.  Leopold looked towards them nervously, his dinner forming into a hard ball in his stomach, soured by his fears.

‘Oh, I see my name is familiar after all.  Call to them if that will make you feel better; I’m not really here, so it will not achieve much.’  The man waved his hand through the sand at his side and it passed through like water.  ‘See?’

‘You’re not here?’ Leopold asked, realising he was still holding his pork bone against his chin.  Setting it aside, he wiped the grease from his lips with the back of his hand.  By not being here, he hoped that also meant the man could not hurt him.  ‘What do you want with me?’

‘With you?  Nothing.  I come for a civilised chat.  Samuel is hunting me and he will find me.  I wanted to forewarn you of what will come.’

‘Do I want to hear what you have to say?’

‘I don’t know,’ the man said, raising his brow, his forehead folded into creases.  ‘Do you?’

Leopold again looked to the armed men, those few dozen strides away.  ‘I suppose I do.  Any enemy of Samuel’s is a friend of mine.’

‘Excellent!’ Lomar said, shifting about to make himself comfortable, though the sand did not move beneath him.  ‘I have time to tell you a thing or two.  Young Samuel will already be scouring for me, feeling something is not right and wondering what it could be.  I wish I could see him, swearing and hunting about.’

‘Young Samuel?’ Leopold had to ask.

‘Well, he’s young to me,’ Lomar said with a chuckle.  ‘I had roamed the world for half a century before he was born and watched him grow into a man.  I helped make him the person he is today.’

‘So you’re to blame,’ Leopold stated, and Lomar laughed good-naturedly.

‘I am.’

‘What is it you want?’ Leopold asked suspiciously.  ‘Why did you take his son and cause this infernal mess?’

The uninvited guest smiled, broadly and gladly.  ‘That is not easily explained.  There are many reasons, and reasons within reasons, the first of which being that if I had not stolen that child, we would not be here now.  Cang’s plan would have inadvertently caused the death of us all.’

‘Even if true, you still didn’t return the child.’

‘No,’ Lomar admitted frankly, ‘because there are plans at work, schemes to make rights of many wrongs.’

‘More than that, I’m sure.’

‘You’re right,’ he stated, giving no more away.

‘But why?’

‘I didn’t do anything because I want to.  I had to.  When you come to be a great leader as I’m sure you will, Leopold, you will learn the meaning of sacrifice.  I do not have time to go into my reasons.  I want to tell you this.  Samuel is using you.  As sure as a drunkard values his tankard until its contents have been emptied, Samuel will discard you when he sees fit—when your purpose has been extracted from you.’

‘I assumed that,’ Leopold said.  ‘Another magician, Tulan, wanted me to catch Samuel, but Samuel ended up catching him.  He was killed in cold blood.’

‘Tulan?’ Lomar said with concern.  ‘Such a shame.  I knew him well.  I didn’t know he had lasted so long.  There are so few left now.  Almost down to the last.’

‘Did you really know him?’ Leopold asked interestedly.

The man’s smile was bright against his dark skin.  ‘Of course.  For many years.’

‘Then would you help me be rid of Samuel?’ he asked, lowering his voice.

‘Hmm,’ Lomar said thoughtfully.  ‘Samuel will get what is coming to him in good time; no need to rush.’

‘I can help you!’ Leopold said.  ‘I want him dead—more than anything.  He killed my father and he’s dragging us on this god-forsaken journey.  He’ll never let me go home.  He’ll kill us all.’

‘Don’t worry.  Samuel will be taken care of when necessary.  Don’t try anything for now.  As you’ve found, he is too powerful for you.  Even I would have trouble facing him directly.  He has dark beings inside him that grant him exceptional power when he requires it.  Did you know?’

‘He told me.  That is why he keeps close to his casket—to keep them at bay.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Lomar said.  ‘A surprising turn.  He can prove very resourceful.  This is why everything must be left to the correct time and place.  Leave him to me.’

‘So what should I do?’ asked Leopold.  Of course, he was not willing to trust this Lomar fellow—he would not trust any magician.  He would see what this man could offer.

‘Samuel is bound for Poltamir, to find his son, but the Demon King has already escaped.  Poltamir does not have him.’

‘How did he escape?’

‘That does not matter!’ the tall magician snapped.  He composed himself immediately, clearing his throat and lowering his voice.  ‘Samuel will find him, I am sure of it.  When he does, I want you to let me know.’

‘How will I do that?’

‘Say something special—some key words.  I cannot watch over you all the time, but I can listen discretely for certain things.  Say it exactly as I tell you and I shall hear it, wherever you may be.’

‘What should I say?’

‘Simply say, “Samuel, you have found your son”.  That should be easy for you to remember.’

‘But he doesn’t let me call him Samuel.  I must call him Lord every time.’

Lomar again became flustered.  ‘Don’t bother me with nonsense, boy.  I don’t care if he makes you call him Uncle.  Just say it when the time comes.  Can you do that simple thing?’

Leopold nodded, making note that this man was easily agitated.  ‘Won’t he know?’ he then asked.  ‘He knows whatever I think almost before I think it.  That’s how he caught Tulan before.’

‘Of course he does.  He can read your mind, you fool.  You cannot stop him from knowing I was here.  The more you try not to think about it, the more you will shout it out to him, but he cannot know everything.  There are tiny corners in your head where the most subtle of secrets can reside, if only you do not overtly bring them to light.’

‘What else should I do?’

‘Nothing for now,’ Lomar said with a shrug of his shoulders.  ‘Just keep an eye on him, and learn who your real friends are, if any.  His lies spread until everyone believes them.  They may be innocent, but if they have fallen victim to his fantasies then they are dangerous to you.  I give you one piece of advice.’

‘What is it?’

‘If you truly want to hurt him, if you truly want to see misery on his face, become close to him.  You achieve nothing by being his enemy.  As his friend you will learn what is closest to him, his secrets, and use them against him.  Watch him fall in upon himself as you reveal what you were doing all along.’  Leopold nodded as he considered what he heard.  ‘Trust me.  I know it works … from experience.  Now go on—get more to eat.  You have a long voyage ahead of you and that pork smells particularly succulent.’

‘Wait.  I would ask you first.’

‘Yes?’ Lomar said, his interest piqued.

‘Who is behind the Truthseekers.  Who is killing all the magicians?’

‘I can see you already suspect or know.  Of course, it is Samuel.’

‘But why?  He is a magician, too.  Why kill his own kind?’

‘You have seen the reason.  With each magician he kills his strength increases.  It is to be expected of demons.  They eat the life of others, consuming it for potency.  He is gathering power, readying for the confrontation he knows must come.’

‘Why are you helping me?’ Leopold also asked.

‘We have shared goals, Emperor Leopold.  We both want to rid the world of this festering evil.  We both want what is best.’  He glanced towards the dark shape of the Farstride upon the water.  ‘It’s too dangerous for me to be here.  I will trust you to tell me when the child is found, and don’t worry, I will take care of Samuel for you.  I must be going.  Now be careful; I’m not normally one to meddle with summonings, but I will bring a creature to occupy Samuel and cover my departure.  Keep your distance.’  With that, he smiled like an old friend.  His plain clothes flickered, black magician’s robes for an instant, and he was gone.

‘Egad,’ Leopold said to no one, before the sky over the sea flashed and terror arrived.

Lightning rippled around a patch of clear night sky, an enormous shadow plummeted into the water with a foaming splash.  Whatever manner of beast, it was huge; twice as long as the Farstride and luckily it fell beside the ship instead of upon it.

People on the beach ran to the sea and looked out with concern, and screams rang out as the ocean bubbled.  Gigantic snaking tentacles rose from the water beside the ship and a deep, resounding bellow sounded from the beast, reverberating from underwater.  Everyone along the shore edged away.

A black dart shot from the silhouette of the Farstride and it flew into the ocean, directly into the middle of the rising creature, to the centre of its writhing tentacles.  The beast howled and its curling arms slapped around as it boiled back into the sea.

Quietness prevailed.  Those on the shore murmured nervously to each other and women sobbed.  The small dark shape rose quietly from the water and returned to the Farstride and everything was as before.

Well, thought Leopold.  If that thing can’t kill him, I’m not even going to try.

****

The next morning saw the Farstride raising her anchors and setting off again, with King Pantu’s people running and waving along the cliffs, showing their thanks, before disappearing into the jungle behind.

Captain Merryweather skilfully steered the ship with his commands, following the islands, big and small, as far to the south-west as could be.  After consulting their charts, they struck due south, leaving land in their wake.

‘The epic voyage begins,’ Lady Wind told them, gathered on the foredeck.  ‘From here we will not make landfall until we find Koia.  Let us hope for an uneventful trip.’

‘Emperor Leopold’s Crusade!’ Riggadardian announced loudly across the decks, and the men cheered in response.

Leopold grinned, liking the sound of it.  He must have looked too pleased, because the magician pinpointed him from afar, and came striding directly towards him with mischief in mind.

‘Emperor Leopold’s Crusade,’ the magician repeated, exaggerating the sound of it.

‘And what of it?’ Leopold replied curtly.  ‘They are not my words; they were his.’

‘I notice you becoming accustomed to your new role.  You’re wearing more of the outfits Riggadardian left for you.’

‘Again, what of it?’ Leopold asked suspiciously.

‘You’ll be wearing the yellow gown next.  Your father only wore that as a spectacular prank that the nobles and gentry never understood, and like them, you’ll soon be parading about the deck and thinking it splendid.’

‘Do you have a point?’

‘I do,’ the magician said, traces of an evil smirk gathering about his lips like a distant, baneful storm.  ‘Let’s see if you can comprehend it.  Come with me.’  With that, he strode away towards the foredeck.

‘Where are we going?’ Leopold asked, trundling behind him.

‘Not far.’

The magician led him to a point high on the deck, where a sailor was busy scrubbing, brush in hand and soapy bucket by his knees.  The man noticed someone standing over him and, as he slowly raised his eyes to the form of Lord Samuel, he gulped aloud.

‘Sailor, you are dismissed,’ the magician told him.  The man remained frozen.  ‘Dismissed!’  The fellow found his feet and bolted away.

‘What am I to do?’ Leopold asked.  The magician looked at the bucket and raise his eyebrows.  ‘Scrub?’ Leopold asked tentatively.

‘That’s right.’

Leopold gave out a heavy sigh.  ‘Is this some jest?  If so, I find it lacking in humour.  You want me, the Emperor of Turia, to scrub the deck?’

‘More so when you put it like that.’

‘What if I refuse?’

‘Remember our pact, Leopold.  It is our covenant.  You cannot break it.  I command, you obey.  It is as simple as that.  If you fail to comply, you will quickly regret it.’

‘You wouldn’t dare hurt me!’ Leopold declared.

‘I can make your life a nightmare without touching a hair on your head, Leopold—without even resorting to magic.  I have been around long enough to know the inner workings of men—of all people—and let me tell you how transparent you are to me.  I know your fears, your anxieties, your hopes and dreams.  You scream them to me in your every gesture, as do all these witless, ignorant folk.’  He made a sweeping gesture behind him, indicating everyone in view across the ship.  ‘Tempt me, and I will expose them.  I assure you, Leopold, a human being can rapidly and very easily be reduced to a snivelling, pitiful wreck, and doing so is one of the few joys I have remaining.  Do not test me in this.’

Leopold glared at him, then slowly, he buckled to his knees.  He knew the man was right.  He knew the magician could do exactly as he threatened.  Picking up the brush, he rubbed at the deck.  Nearby crewmen watched on with curiosity.

‘If this is to teach me humility, it’s not necessary,’ Leopold declared.

‘Oh really?’

‘I have done this before.  I have worked hard, every day of my life.’

‘That was before.’

‘Have you not seen me in the sails?’

‘But you like that,’ the magician stated.  ‘I’ve noticed you watching others scrub the deck with disdain upon your face.  You think it’s demeaning—a task for the lowest peasant, which only shows how little you know, because there are many more distasteful duties on board this ship, and I plan to make you intimate with them all.  An emperor should know what kneeling feels like before he demands it of his people.  Prepare to kneel as low as you can, Leopold.  I thought this would be a good place to start.’

‘To start?’

‘Yes, Leopold.  This is a long voyage.  I do not want you getting bored.’  A knowing smirk curled into existence.

‘How long will you have me doing this?’

‘Long enough,’ was the magician’s reply.  ‘I’ll tell you when you’re done.’  And off he went, leaving Leopold on his hands and knees.

Word passed to everyone that Leopold was not to be assisted, under threat of punishment from him.  They kept their distance.  Commander Riggadardian came out, blustering and complaining, until Captain Orrell calmed him as always, leading him away and letting Leopold continue his work.

Leopold was not to be defeated by the magician.  He kept at it, until his knees ached and he had blisters on his hands, and he kept going after that, gritting his teeth and swearing under his breath.

After several hours, Lord Samuel was standing silently by Leopold’s side once again.

‘Well?’ Leopold asked, rubbing his chin with a sopping wet sleeve.

‘Have you had enough?’ the magician asked.

‘Oh, yes!’ Leopold said with relief, dropping his brush into the bucket with splash.

‘Then keep going,’ Samuel told him.

‘What!’

‘I said keep going.  I don’t want to kill you; just scrub to the next chainplate.  Then you can rest.’

Leopold looked to where he was indicating.  It meant another hour at least.  ‘No,’ he stated defiantly, sitting back on his heels.

‘Yes,’ said Samuel, as he loomed over Leopold.

One of them would give in, and it was inevitably the young Emperor who capitulated.

He picked his brush from the bucket of grey water, and returned it reluctantly to the deck.  Scrub, scrub, scrub, he went, grumbling and cursing all the while.

****

The next few days followed without incident, while Leopold recovered from his soreness.  Many crew—soldiers and sailors alike—suffered from sea sickness as the Farstride rolled between gargantuan waves; others experienced stomach cramps and a fever spread.  The medics could not help, and it was only after Jessicah had pestered Samuel for the dozenth time, that the magician stormed from his quarters, and with a wave of his hand he declared them well.  He stomped back to his den without another word, and without exception the afflicted improved within the hour.

Toby was often scrambling about the decks and several times a day the crew caught him halfway up a mast pole or dangling over the railing, in danger of falling into the ocean.  No amount of scolding or lecturing kept his feet flat on the ground.  They may have whistled into the wind, for all the good it did.  He smiled and laughed, jubilant at the angry faces of those who sought to rebuke him.

Salu was often outdoors, standing in odd places—facing a wall, squatting by the crew as they went about their chores, totally inappropriate and hampering the men’s duties; he never took notice.  He stood muttering, eyes clamped shut, mouth open and facing the wind, saturating himself with the sensations it brought.  There was no return of the sense he had shown when defending Leopold from the witch: his mind lost in the wind and the sea.

Lord Samuel thought that the old man would be of help to them, if only he could be brought back from his madness.  Leopold wanted the same; despite his desire that everything the magician did should fail, he could not wish failure in that.  Salu was simple and honest.  Inside his mutterings Leopold felt consolation, and sleeping in the same room, he felt safe.  Salu would never lie to him and never use him.  Salu would act when needed as before, self-appointed as Leopold’s protector, never judging, never critical—a true hero of legend.  He might even rescue him from the clutches of Samuel …

****

A week into the great southern crossing, Leopold was returning to his cabin when, short of the doorway, he noticed the sound of conversation from inside.  He edged nearer and heard the voice of the magician inside.  Curious, he waited to overhear what was said.

‘Come now, you must be able to tell me more than that,’ Lord Samuel was insisting.  ‘Where is all the power going if no one is claiming it?’

A voice replied to his question, too muted to hear, and Leopold wondered who he could be talking to.

‘No, no,’ said Samuel, sounding impatient.  ‘You said that already.  Can’t you remember anything?’  He sighed loudly, audible even to Leopold.  ‘Stop hovering out there, Leopold!’ the magician then called out.  ‘You’re as stealthy as a camel on a four-poster bed.  Come inside.’

Leopold was not surprised that the magician sensed him easily, and strode into the room.  Samuel was sitting on his bed, opposite old Salu.

‘Has he been speaking?’ Leopold asked with interest.  ‘Can you get sense out of him?’

Samuel groaned.  ‘Little.  I’ve been at him nearly every day.  Rarely am I rewarded.  Mostly, he is lost behind a fog of nonsense I don’t know how his brother put up with him.  He drops a revelation before me without warning, and it drives me insane finding what it means.  Other times he will respond to what I asked him days before, for him a moment later.  Sometimes he answers questions I haven’t yet thought to ask, somehow knowing I will.’

‘What caused his madness?’ Leopold asked, watching the doddering old fellow.

‘Oh, he is not mad,’ Samuel said.  ‘He merely sees the world differently.  From an early age he was gifted, but became frustrated by what we call society, and he retreated inwards.  Sometimes he returns to peek out at us, but cannot understand what his senses tell him.  It is like us trying to understand the ways of the ants.  They run in mad circles, pointlessly, but to them their every action is reasonable.  They don’t notice the giants staring down at them until we tread upon their mound.’

‘So what are you hoping to discover?’

‘Anything.  Anything that could help.’

‘I thought you had every detail finely planned.’

‘Of course not,’ the magician said indignantly.  We are diving into chaos and hoping for the best.  If any of us live it will be a miracle.  We are mortal men facing immortal demons, Leopold.’

‘The crew talk.  They say you are the cause of our troubles.  They feel the demons inside of you, and they worry.’

‘Pah!  They feel superstitions.  The darkness inside me is different from the beasts that wreak terror upon the world.  The monsters that stalk man are tools; wild animals summoned for destruction.  Those inside of me are the spirits of true demons, devious and evil beings that seek to use me as their weapon.  They have no bodies to inhabit and are safe as such, as long as I control and contain them.’

‘We are under siege from every direction,’ Leopold noted.

‘True, and it has never been this way before.  We stand on a branching of the paths, poised to break free from the ways of countless millennia.  Two of the Ancient Ones have been defeated.  Their king—my son—is held captive by the last, and the world is in a hiatus until the situation is resolved.’

Leopold held his tongue.  The magician did not know, and he was not to let slip what Lomar had said.  The Demon King was escaped and roaming free somewhere upon the world, and Lord Samuel did not know it.

Samuel was set in his thoughts and spoke them aloud without abatement.  ‘The creatures that roam the world free more souls with each day, and the power remains unclaimed ... a wasted harvest.  I am guessing, when Lin is released, he will consume it.  That is why I hurry to find Poltamir.  Surely, he is after that power for himself.  I would, if I were he, and we must stop him before he finds a way.  Salu has answers, but he too is harbouring a grudge against me.’

‘Why?  What did you do to him?  I mean, apart from dragging him with us—which I suppose is enough for anyone to form a grievance.’

‘I killed his brother,’ Samuel said.

‘Well.  That would be enough to get him offside.  You killed my father and look how well we get along.’

‘That was different.  His brother tried to kill me.  I had no choice.’

‘You seem to have few choices but you manage to do a lot.’

Samuel grunted.  ‘I can see there is no talking sense into you, boy.  I’ll leave you with the old goat.  When Toby returns I will feel out of place amongst such intellectual titans.  Three fools make good company.’

With that, he stormed from the room, leaving Leopold greatly satisfied.  The magician had kept him busy working over the ship nearly every single day; any small triumph in return was worth celebrating.

When Samuel was long down the hall, Leopold laughed.  ‘I never thought I’d score a victory over him.  This is wondrous.’

The old man was muttering louder and Leopold snapped his attention towards him, waiting for Salu to speak; the old fool continued, but no revelation fell from his lips.

Leopold kicked off his boots and lay back and rested on his bed.  His head hit his pillow and he breathed deeply, readying himself for sleep.

Words broke the silence.

‘That was no victory,’ came the voice and Leopold sat up, bewildered by a voice unexpected.

Salu was the only other present, yet he sat unmoving upon his bunk, quiet.

Could it have been him?

Leopold looked towards the doorway: soundly shut.  He returned his gaze to the old man and peered closely.  ‘Did you say something?’

Salu stopped his fidgeting and raised his chin, opening his eyes a tiny sliver, revealing the narrowest strip of his pale irises.  ‘He does not get upset,’ he stated and Leopold leant closer with interest.  ‘He acts a part, looking for a result, pretending he remembers how to be human.’  He then chortled happily.  ‘And you play into his hands.’

‘Why would he bother with that?’

‘He is planting seeds ... setting a course ... tilling the soil … all such similar metaphors.’  He wafted his hand dismissively.

‘To what end?’

‘To get you to a certain point, of course.’  He then mumbled and rubbed his hands together, sucking at his lips.  ‘I nearly killed your father once,’ Salu admitted, changing his tone and the topic with it.

‘What was that?’ was Leopold’s surprised response.  Surely he must have misheard.

‘I tried to kill him one time ... a long time ago.  I nearly succeeded.’

‘You tried to kill my father?  When?  When he was the Emperor?’

The old man nodded and returned his gaze to the floor, looking weary.  ‘I am sorry for it.  I have always been sorry for that … and other things.  Sometimes, the world becomes a dream and my dreams become the world.  I see no difference anymore.’

‘How can you doubt what you see?  The world is real,’ Leopold stated firmly.

‘Are you sure?’ the old man asked, raising his old face in examination of the ceiling.  His pale stubble had grown slightly since the start of the voyage, yet his thick, white hair had not, remaining close to his scalp.

‘Of course,’ Leopold replied.

‘Ah,’ the old man said with a sigh of acceptance.  ‘Then I am glad I did not kill him.’

Leopold was not sure how to respond.  ‘So am I.  My mother taught me all life is precious.’

‘A lovely woman,’ Salu said, smiling broadly and nodding with his eyes shut tight, folded into his grin.  ‘But she was mistaken.’

Leopold did not care for his final remark.  ‘What do you mean by that?  Life is precious.  How could you disagree?’

‘Easily.  There is nothing to agree with.  She is wrong.  Life is everywhere, nothing precious about it.  You can’t stop it.  It springs up at the slightest opportunity.  It grows wild, untamed and uncontrolled like a weed.’

Leopold shook his head, perturbed.  ‘While you continue to speak nonsense, tell me why you were glad you did not kill my father?’

‘It is not my right to do so,’ the old man said solemnly.  ‘The world should take care of herself without my interference.  Life ... death ... exist without my meddling and the balance should be maintained.  I have hurt people.  I hear their pain often, but I do not see them anymore.  That is some solace to my tired old heart.’  He sat quietly in contemplation.  ‘I’m glad I did not kill your father because otherwise you would not be here.  We would not be together having this conversation.  Events would have travelled a different course.  Only the single, delicate path you followed led you here, to this precise moment, intersecting with mine.’

‘You call this a conversation?  You have simple concepts, old man.  And you confuse me.  You contradict yourself by saying our lives are of value.’

‘Ah, I see your mistake,’ murmured the old man with his gentle, rasping voice.  ‘Lives and life are very different things.  Life is a dry and simple occurrence, without meaning on its own, scum in a pond.  While lives are the result of us being here—what we do and experience.  I am sorry.  The difference is at first subtle, but in fact there are worlds between them.  You are making the typical mistake, in that you have misled yourself into believing you are alive.’

‘Of course I am alive!’ Leopold scoffed.

His response amused the decrepit old magician.  ‘The pond scum dreams of grandeur!’  He chortled at the thought.

Leopold blinked several times to be sure he was not going mad, such was his confusion.  ‘I beg your pardon?  I am not scum!’

‘Then you should act like it.  Forget that you are sentient.  It will distract you from the experience of living.’

Leopold scoffed.  ‘No wonder Samuel kicks you when you’re sleeping.  I can’t follow a word you are saying.’

‘That’s the problem with all of you,’ the old man said.  ‘You expect to follow me when I am on a different road altogether.  Make your own damned path!  And how can you expect to understand what I am saying if all you are doing is listening to my words?  They are just sounds you know, noises from an old man’s throat.  You will never find meaning if you sit and wait for my words to strike you in the ear.  Go out and dig it up yourself!’

Leopold shook his head.  He wanted answers from the old man, not nonsense.  ‘Why are you helping Samuel if he killed your brother?’

‘He did not kill my brother,’ Salu stated matter-of-factly.

‘Well, he certainly thinks he did.’

‘He doesn’t know everything—not yet.  My brother travelled to another realm—a distant world.  Samuel caused him to go I suppose, but it would take more than that to finish Janus.  He probably enjoys being where he is.’

‘Why are you helping Samuel?’

‘I’m not helping anyone.  I’ve always wanted to go to sea, and he supplied the means.’  He grinned innocently, his eyes becoming tinier slits.  ‘I like the wind.  It tells me much out here, unbridled from the sounds and scents of the land.’

‘Hmm,’ said Leopold.  ‘Do you trust him?’

‘Trust is foolish.  When I walk into the wall I trust myself to walk straight through it; does that ever happen?  I bang my nose again and again!  Silly thing, trust.  It is waste, as are assumptions.’

‘Well, I don’t trust him.’

‘He doesn’t care whether you trust him or not.’

‘Do you know what he is planning?’ Leopold asked secretively.

The old man grunted—his laugh.  ‘How could I?  Even he does not know what he will do.’

‘I hear you talking, but I don’t understand what you say,’ Leopold remarked, annoyed.

‘Ah!’ interrupted the old man.  ‘Then you are learning!’

‘How about this,’ Leopold continued.  ‘Do you know what will happen to us?’

‘Of course,’ old Salu said firmly.  ‘We will live—’  Leopold sighed relief.  ‘—until we die,’ the man added, Leopold’s hopes falling completely.  ‘All things come to an end, as they should, as shall we.  Every flame burns to ashes, every rock grinds to dust, every wind calms ... every watery desire runs into the cracks of a dry river bed.  Continue to associate our perpetual survival with success and you will meet with disappointment.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Leopold muttered.

‘No,’ whispered the old man with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.  ‘It is wonderful!  Otherwise, what reason would we have to love?’

‘Are you completely mad?’ Leopold asked, frustrated.

Salu chuckled.  ‘That depends.  Are you real or am I talking to myself?’

****

Samuel was waiting on the balcony for Leopold when he emerged, and gestured for the young Emperor to approach.

‘Any sense from your roommate?’ asked the magician.

‘I get the feeling he knows everything we say and all that is going on around him, but that he is playing some infernal game of self-amusement.  We just had a chat, and I am none the wiser.  He is nearly as bad as you when it comes to riddles and nonsense.’

‘Oh?’ the magician said with interest.  ‘What did he say?’

‘He said we are all going to die ... eventually.’  Samuel looked interested, and he scowled upon the last word, much to Leopold’s delight.  ‘He said I was mistaken for thinking I was alive.’

‘He has a point.’

‘Not you, too?’ Leopold gasped.

‘Do you know what life is?’ the magician lectured.

‘Oh, here we go,’ Leopold moaned, thinking he had just escaped such talk.

‘At what stage does something become worthy of such a title?’ Samuel went on.

‘When it lives and breathes,’ Leopold suggested, humouring him.

‘Fool, boy,’ Lord Samuel told him, and went on nonetheless.  ‘Look at you.  Is your hair alive?  Is it part of you?  What about your skin?  Your bones?  The boundaries between life and death are not well-defined as we believe.  If I started snipping away the extraneous, at what stage would we find the real you.  Would anything be left at all?  Our sense of self is part of the illusion our minds press upon us.’

‘How about when it hurts?’ Leopold said, looking around the main deck for some excuse to run.  ‘I know that anything that hurts is a part of me.’

The magician shook his head with disappointment and took a deep breath, as if explaining the obvious to a fool.  ‘I could poke holes in your guts with a knife and you would never feel it—assuming I first prised open your skin and skilfully avoided your muscles, nerves, connective tissues and blood supply.  Feeling has nothing to do with it.  You need to stop seeing your self as an entity, like a dot riding on a current of time.  You are everything that contributes to the experience from beginning to end: a web, a tapestry of lives.  How can any single being exist when everything else it touches—living or not—is a part of it, and in turn part of something greater?

‘Whatever or whoever we are does not end at the perimeter of our skins, Leopold.  That is a shallow view.  Everything we know and do, everyone we love and hate, and everything that affects us—whether we know it or know—are part of us.  We are fragments of a natural machine that churns on forever, with or without our input.  If you want to learn who you are, Leopold, look outwards, beyond your skin, not into it.  Behold the stars!  There lies your soul, Leopold, forged from dust and fire.  Life has no meaning beyond that, beyond change.  We are fooling ourselves in looking deeper than that.’

‘Oh, just stop it!’ Leopold erupted.  ‘I had enough of that talk out of him!’  He considered marching away, until he remembered Lomar’s advice.  Swallowing his pride he stood his ground, if only to keep the magician close to him.  ‘I’m sorry, Lord Samuel.  It’s too much for me to comprehend.’

The magician laughed loudly and slapped him on the back.  ‘That’s the spirit, Leopold!  You’re doing fine.  I’ll see you an emperor yet!  It may take me to the end of the world, but we’re well on our way.’

With that, Lord Samuel turned around and departed, chortling to himself, leaving Leopold standing alone, more confused than ever.

****

One mid-morning, about two weeks since leaving the southern tip of the Spice Islands, Leopold was exploring the deepest bowels of the ship.  He came to a strange door at the end of a featureless unlit corridor.  These deepest chambers were visited infrequently and he had not seen any crew for some time.

He had been following old Salu as the fellow had been tapping his way around the passageways, keen to relieve the boredom and curious to see if the man had any destination in mind or was wandering aimlessly in the dark.  Leopold lost sight of him and, lantern in hand, he meandered down a long and empty hall.  That emptiness was remarkable considering the preciousness of space aboard the ship, uncluttered by even a single box.

He opened the creaking door and ventured carefully into the room beyond, finding it full of impenetrable blackness.  Holding his lantern before him, Leopold was surprised to find someone sitting on the floor of the empty chamber.  The figure was a hunched spectre in robes of black, and it was because of those robes that Leopold at-once recognised the magician.

Lord Samuel raised his chin to see who had disturbed him, not enough to lay eyes on Leopold in the doorway; just enough so that Leopold knew he had been noticed.

Leopold did not care what the magician was doing quietly in the dark and hoped to leave quickly.  He stood there, feeling uncomfortable, and not knowing if he should retreat without speaking or offer some form of farewell.  Emboldened, he said,  ‘Should I go?’  The echo of his voice tarried in the musty chamber.

‘As you wish,’ was the magician’s reply.  The sound came clearly and singularly.  No echoes followed it across the room.

Leopold’s fears transformed to curiosity upon hearing the magician’s voice.  He held his lantern higher to see if the walls held any hidden detail.  ‘What are you doing here, sitting alone in the darkness?’ he asked.  What secrets were hidden here with him?  Was there something apart from his casket that he kept stowed away out of sight?  And Leopold again peered into the stubborn shadows that lingered in the corners of the room.

‘Merely reminiscing,’ was Samuel’s response.  He did not move when he spoke.

‘You?’ Leopold asked, stepping closer, his boots squeaking noisily on the timbers.

‘I have not always been like this, Leopold.  At one time I was a man.  I did love.  Twice, in fact.  The first time I was young and foolish.  The second I was not so young, but more the fool than before, for I no longer had naivety as my excuse.  I found the true love I had been seeking across time, and did not realise it until she was also lost to me.  I know she still exists somewhere, in some form, waiting for me to join her.  I often look for her, or speak to her, until I remember she is gone, but perhaps she sees me, hears me, too.  I wonder if I will end up like Salu, disengaged from the world and half mad.  Like me, does he speak to some loved one he lost many years before, hearing her sweet voice in his ear?’

‘Is that why you are like this?  Vengeful and full of angst?’

‘No,’ Samuel stated with a sorry shake of his head.  ‘I have being a magician to thank for that.  The practice of magic comes with a price.  My heart has become a fist of stone trapped within the bone prison of my chest.  It squeezes blood dutifully through my veins, no memories of love or tenderness to soothe it.’

‘My father was not like you.  He was a great and loving man.  How can you say that magic is to blame?’

‘I cannot say how that was so.  Your father, like all the Ancient Ones, was bound to Lin’s service under an eternal spell.  Who can know why their master did not take their emotions?  Perhaps to serve him better.’

Leopold regretted mentioning his father, for he found no pleasure in hearing the magician speak of him.  ‘I find it hard to believe you were ever capable of feelings, Magician.  You serve only your shallow desires.  You bring us with you for selfish reasons.  You keep dark secrets close to your heart.  Your only remaining source of pleasure lies in witnessing others’ discomfort.’

Samuel raised his head from beneath his hood and met Leopold’s accusing stare.  The air was still and cold.  His eyes, silver pearls, reflected the lamplight.  ‘Yes,’ was his reply.

‘And yet these men, the good Commander Riggadardian and Captain Orrell, the rest, they follow you without question—even to their deaths.  Why do they do it?’

Samuel laboured to his feet, climbing from beneath some unfathomable weight.  ‘They hope.  They pray.  Turians have no belief in gods—your father saw to that—a few have faith in me.  They remember me from before and they hope a spark of my old self remains to deliver their salvation.’

‘Does it?  Will you?’

‘Perhaps,’ the magician said, pouring his attention slowly over every inch of the room, searching for treasure, and finding it abysmally empty.  ‘I will do what I will and if that brings about the goal they seek, then so be it.’

‘Why do you bring us with you?  I have seen what you do; you could fly across the sea if you wished and be done with this infernal quest in moments.  Why drag us with you when all we do is slow you down?’

‘Because I cannot do it alone.  I need you all with me.  The fate of mankind must be decided by man—something I can no longer claim to be.’

‘Do you need me?  I thought it was only the promise you made to my mother and father that kept me with you.  Or is that a lie, too?’

‘I have a purpose for you, Leopold.  I would not break my word flippantly, but I do have a need for you that I cannot do without.  In this case, it is convenient that the two are aligned.’

‘Oh,’ Leopold said, somewhat disappointed.  He had been hoping the magician would hold some vestige of respect for the oath he made to his parents; it was not so.  ‘And what of Salu and Toby?’

‘I keep them with me out of hope.  I sought Salu for so long that I cannot face the fact that I wasted all that time.  What we will face is beyond me alone.  I go to destroy Poltamir, last of the Ancient Ones, who has become the greatest magician in the world, and to convince his master, a king of demons, to return to being simply my son.  Every day more devastation is unleashed upon the earth and humanity is further eroded.  I need Salu’s strength and wisdom, and I am hoping Toby can help me find it.  He is the only thing the old fool understands.’

‘Why don’t you take Salu’s strength, take his wisdom, as you did with my father?’

Samuel looked again to Leopold to deliver his answer.  ‘I may well be forced to do that, but I am not a monster as you often suggest.  Monsters enjoy the suffering of others.  I do what I must.  Besides, I take strength, but I cannot take wisdom: it must be learned.’

‘Is that why you killed the other magicians?  To take their strength?  You are behind the Truthseekers, I know it.  You let Daneel murder Tulan, a man who was once your friend.’

‘I told Daneel to never let personal feelings interfere.  His or mine.  He did it because he believed it was right, because he had to, because Tulan being on this ship would only bring trouble.’

‘So it’s true?  You do not deny leading the Truthseekers?  You will not make a feeble attempt at nobility, to—to find reprieve in some desperate, selfish way?’

‘It is true.  I will not deny it—not to you,’ was Samuel’s reply.

Leopold was dumbstruck by the man’s audacity.  ‘But—but why?’

‘I once had great ideals, like you, Leopold, and I learned that sometimes we must choose the lesser of two evils.  When the Circle of Eyes lost Cang, its leader, I stepped in and took over, both to make use of their power and to stop another from doing the same.  How could I not?  Rei’s Order were attracted to the magicians first, and once they had people in their sights, they killed everyone and everything.  People sheltered the magicians at first, hoping for their magic to aid them, which was worse.  My way, the magicians are pruned from the population.  If not for my Truthseekers, Amandia would already be devoid of life.’

‘Why could the magicians not make a stand?  Why could they not be here, braving our adventure beside us?’

‘It is not that simple,’ Samuel replied impatiently.

‘Is it because you wanted their power?’

‘It is not!’ boomed the voice.  ‘None of it came to me.  The essence of every dead magician waits in the ether, waiting for Lin to take them.’

‘Ah.’  Leopold breathed deeply.  ‘My father told me many stories of the world before the Darkening and of the many things you did.  He spoke of you kindly, but I was disappointed to find that his perspective of you was distorted.  He gave his life to you, Samuel, so that you would protect me and save the world.  I just hope his faith in you was not misplaced.’

‘So do I,’ Samuel said to himself.  Leopold went to leave, having heard enough, when the magician spoke up.  ‘Leopold?’

‘What is it?’

‘When you get outside ... varnish the rails.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Varnish the handrails.  That’s what I said, Leopold.’

‘Which handrails?’ he asked with sheer disbelief, for the ship had endless lengths of railing around her and throughout the decks.

‘All of them.’

Leopold sighed.  With that, he took his lamp from the chamber, leaving the magician and the room in darkness once more.

****

A few days later, a commotion stirred amongst the sailors and Leopold hurried to see what they were pointing at, far off in the distance.  A large shape loomed upon the horizon, an island with an enormous snaking neck, and it arched its head up and down, diving beneath the waves before surfacing in an explosion of spray.  Dark forms flitted around in the sky above it, too large to be birds, roosting upon it when they could, flying madly into the sky as it submersed, waiting for it to reappear to once more rest upon its back.

‘A gargantuan devil, heading north,’ someone said beside him, startling him.  It was Captain Orrell.

‘I hope we do not bump into one on our voyage,’ Leopold returned.

‘We will.  We have passed many and met other strange creatures such as that which Samuel destroyed before.  Thankfully, we have avoided them until now, but they thicken by the day.  Our passage into the south is dependent upon Samuel.  He clears the path before us.’

‘We need the magician to protect us from such beasts, but I lack your faith in him, Captain.  I fear that when we get to our destination we may find ourselves misled.’

‘Oh?’ the captain said with interest.  ‘How so?’

‘I am not sure.  What he has said is built from lies.  Did you know we have a Truthseeker amongst us?  Two in fact.’

‘Who would they be?’ the captain said with concern.

‘Daneel is one.  He admitted it in Cintar.  He killed a magician before my very eyes.  He had your men dispose of the body and I assume the secret has gone undiscovered.  The other Truthseeker is Samuel.  He is their leader.’

The captain stared at Leopold intently, discerning if he was serious.  ‘These are grave accusations, Your Highness.’

‘They are true.  Speak to the magician.  He will not deny it.’

‘I intend to, but it only raises further problems.  What if they are Truthseekers?  We cannot turn our ship about, nor can we punish them—we need them both.  We cannot stop this voyage.  The hopes of the people of Amandia are riding with us.’

‘That is the problem.  I believe they are false hopes.  We will find no salvation with Lord Samuel.  He is leading us to our demise.’

Orrell looked grim.  ‘Leave it to me.  I will find a way to ask them about this.  Do not tell anyone.  I do not want trouble with the crew.’

The captain left Leopold and strode quickly away, headed for his cabin and worried.

****

It was an hour later when a crewman found Leopold, bearing Captain Orrell’s summons.  Leopold heeded the call swiftly, striding down the passage to the captain’s room, eager to hear the result of his investigations.

Orrell waited, sitting at his small desk fronting the window, bathed in a dusty shaft of light.  ‘Come in, Your Majesty.’  He opened his palm welcomingly.  ‘Please, sit down.’

Leopold did so, eagerly.  ‘What did you learn?’

‘I spoke to Daneel and I met with the magician.  They denied your claims.’

Leopold was flabbergasted.  ‘That lying devil!’

‘We have no proof and they refuted the accusations.  What can I do?’

‘Is my word not worth anything?  Is being the Emperor of no consequence?  Could emperors of the past not order someone’s head removed and it was done at once, without fuss or remonstration?’

‘Calm, please, Your Majesty.  Of course your word is of value, but I strongly advise we do nothing—for now.’

‘Did you not speak to your men?  Someone must have seen Tulan’s body or have heard of the tale.’

‘I asked around, but no one knows anything.  Daneel has a small group of my men at his disposal, and although sworn to me, I know they are fiercely loyal to him.  They would not give him away.  We do not have enough to go on.  All we can do is wait and see if any evidence comes to light.  Until then ... my hands are tied.  In truth I hope we do not learn anything.  I cannot afford to have Samuel offside.  None of us can.’

Leopold was furious.  ‘Damn him and damn this ship!’ he said, gaining his feet and stamping about the room.  He wanted to grab an object and smash it to the floor, but his last shreds of sense held tight and he refrained from the indulgence.

‘Listen, Leopold.’  The captain’s voice was strong and assuring.  He had often dealt with furious people, including upset kings, generals and many of their wives.  ‘Do not get worked up.  We are stuck on this ship.  Remain focussed on our goal.  I know Samuel.  I will talk to him and see if he will open up to me.  I don’t like my chances, but perhaps he will explain why he has done what he has done.’

Leopold stopped his ranting and looked to the captain, feeling calm.  There was no point arguing.  Orrell’s mind was decided—he was with Samuel.

Leopold nodded.  ‘You are right.’

‘Before you go, I wanted to ask you something else.  It is a different matter—about Jessicah.’

Leopold furrowed his brow.  ‘What about her?’

‘My men have been suspicious of her since we rescued her in Cintar.  They do not believe it natural that she could have survived there unscathed.  Is there nothing else you can tell me about her?’

Leopold felt immediately warm inside.  That’s it!  He had forgotten that little secret.  He would not tell the captain now, for once he did his advantage would be lost.  Better to build the stakes first, until the knowledge that she was indeed Rei became a better bargaining tool.

‘No, Captain.’

‘Good,’ the man said with a relieved sigh.  He cleared his throat, set to broach another uncomfortable subject.  ‘If it is not too delicate a matter, I would ask something else.  You speak to her often … has she mentioned me?’

‘I am unsure what you mean—’ Leopold said before stopping, as it dawned what the man was talking about.  ‘Oh!  Why, yes, Captain.  She speaks highly of you.  She is very keen on you indeed.  I thought you knew?’

Orrell was pleased with the response.  The moment passed and he was again his sober self, shuffling papers on his desk.  ‘I need to review my weekly reports.  If that’s all you need, then good day, Your Majesty.’

Leopold smiled in return.  ‘And good day to you too, Captain.’

****

The voyage dragged on.  Days passed, then weeks; the journey would never end.  Thankfully, they met little trouble along the way: several minor breakages below decks were soon fixed, rigging needed mending—nothing of consequence, and the wind remained fair at their backs.

Samuel kept Leopold busy with unending menial tasks, never allowing him rest, never willing to let his aches and blisters heal before setting him to some other unnecessary chore—which Leopold saw to stubbornly, unwilling to concede, never granting the man the satisfaction of complaining or cutting corners.

Many of the sailors kept their distance from Samuel whenever he appeared on deck, muttering and cursing on sight of him, postulating the vileness of what he was doing with his accursed coffin in his cabin.

Others mentioned how well their journey was faring and how there were no rats or lice or any of the usual pestilences, how not one of them had taken ill since he had last cast his spell over them.  Some called it unnatural and unwanted, yet the growing minority called it a blessing.

Jessicah was most often in the company of Lady Wind, which was understandable: the only two women on the ship.  When he was with her, Leopold became angry, annoyed.  He strove desperately for the right words; the more he tried, the more he felt a fool.  She regarded him strangely, and on one occurrence he caught her turning away upon sight of him, hoping to evade him.  Leopold burned inside.  He could do nothing, except keep his distance.  Better that than drive her away altogether.  He only wished there was something he could do to win her favour.

****

To maintain alertness, Captain Orrell had his men exercising and engaging in swordplay on the deck at regular intervals, and they suffered not from lack of space.  They had enough room to ride horses at full charge if they wished; not that they had any.

Leopold watched, surprised when the captain called him down from his perch upon the stairs after the men had finished their drills.

‘Leopold, come here!’ he called.

Leopold obeyed and when they met, the captain offered him the handle of his blade.

‘What’s this?’ Leopold asked.

‘Come, no point wasting this time.  You are an emperor and you have a sword.  It’s time to teach you how to use it.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know where to start,’ Leopold said, feeling uncomfortable as crew members gathered to watch.

‘I know.  That’s the point.’

‘I couldn’t,’ Leopold insisted and he looked to the men, standing and watching him, waiting to see how a young emperor would fare in a fight.  Would he share the legendary abilities of his father?

‘I see,’ the captain returned.  ‘I shall clear the quarter deck.  The crew have their business to go about, and I will ask them to refrain from loitering there for the next hour or two.  Time is not to waste.’

He led Leopold to the rear of the ship.  It was relatively obstructed from view, except from those men working in the sails, with few around to ogle Leopold as he fumbled to learn.  Captain Orrell taught him the basics of holding the sword, drawing and sheathing the blade, and not cutting his fingers off in the process.

The captain sent for wooden practice blades and before they clattered them together Orrell showed Leopold how to face an opponent, to place his feet and keep balance.  Finally, they chopped intermittently; Leopold felt ridiculous; many times he lowered his weapon,  and declared it a waste of time.

Under the captain’s instruction, he put his fears aside and undertook the task with enthusiasm, hacking wildly to defeat his instructor.

‘Calm, Leopold,’ the captain told him.  ‘Don’t kill your teacher.’

Leopold laughed foolishly, making a game of it.

‘Stop it, Leopold,’ Orrell then told him.  ‘This is serious.’

‘No harm in enjoyment.  A few minutes ago you were chastising me for not trying hard enough.’

‘Not paying attention causes harm.  We’ll see how much you laugh when your thumb flies to the deck.’

Leopold held up his wooden blade in the defensive position he had been shown.  With a sigh, he resolved to follow the captain’s commands.  ‘I understand.’

‘Hold strong, Leopold.’  Orrell cracked his sword against Leopold’s defence.

It jarred Leopold’s wrist and he struggled to return the weapon to its original position in time to block the next attack.

‘Ow!’ he complained, shaking his wrist to ease the pain.  ‘This is harder than I thought.’

‘Don’t laugh,’ Orrell warned sternly.

When the weapon was next knocked free Leopold shook his head as he picked it up, giving one brief chortle.  A sharp pain bit his behind.  The captain had whacked him across the buttocks with his sword.

Leopold shrieked, standing straight and rubbing his tender cheeks.

‘I told you.’  Orrell was short of patience.  ‘This is not a game, Leopold.  You have nothing to prove here.  Stop playing the fool.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he returned, annoyed with the captain’s accusations.

‘You make light of your failures, Leopold.  You mock to hide disappointment.  Stop it.  No one, least of all me, cares if you drop your sword a hundred times—as long as you pick it up again, determined to improve.  I warn you.  Do not shake your head, do not laugh, do nothing beyond the task at hand.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

The captain lowered his weapon.  ‘Before you grasp your sword, Leopold, you must know what you are to use it for.  It is not a plaything and you are not a child.  If you could see yourself you would be ashamed.  Defend as I have shown you.  If you fail, stand up straight and try again.  Do not jest, do not speak.  Exercise control of yourself.’

Leopold shook his head in frustration, but determined to follow the instruction.

The captain slowly rounded him, stepping in lightning fast and striking his weapon against Leopold’s.  Each time it rattled the bones in Leopold’s hands until his forearms were tingling.  One blow sent the blade bouncing to the deck and Leopold held his tongue, and picked it up without a sound, the captain scrutinising his every move.

‘Good,’ Orrell said, smiling, before stepping in again with a blow that made Leopold stagger.  Again the blade flew free, and this time Leopold felt his fury rising.

‘Well done, Leopold,’ the captain said.  ‘You are doing well.  Anger comes next, as I can see you are beginning to learn, but that is a battle for another day.  Enough for now.  We will face that challenge next time.’

He left Leopold with a practice blade and strict instructions not to handle a real weapon until being told he was ready.

‘Yes.  Well done, Leopold,’ sounded the voice of the magician, and Leopold found Lord Samuel standing behind him.

‘What do you want?’ he asked sourly.

‘Taking in the view,’ said the magician, and he strolled around the quarter deck, studying the ship’s wake in tow.

‘It surprises me that the weather has been with us this entire time.  We met the region named The Doldrums that Lady Wind had marked on our maps, apparently renowned for its prevailing calm, yet a gale formed behind us and we passed straight through.  It seems more than luck.’

‘So it seems,’ was all Samuel would say.

‘Can you so easily control the weather?’

‘Every aspect of life requires balance.  The currents I put at our back deprive someone else of theirs, but I consider the trade is fair.  We go to save the world, after all.’  The magician took an item from his pocket and threw it into the water.  A scrap of bread?  Surely the man had not been eating?  ‘I have not seen you recently, Leopold.  You have avoided me since I had that visit from Captain Orrell.’

‘Oh?’ Leopold remarked.

‘I am not killing you or doing anything despicable.  I am saving us.  You seem set on working against me.’

‘I told you I would kill you.’

‘Ah, yes.  So you did,’ Samuel noted, and looked to the sea once more.  ‘You can’t kill me, Leopold.  You know that.  All you are doing is making the trip more uncomfortable for everyone, especially those you pester.  I couldn’t care less what people know about me.  They do.  What they need is hope and unity.  You are their Emperor, Leopold, not a child—as the good captain already pointed out.’

‘You care about Jessicah,’ Leopold said and slowly the magician faced him.  ‘You care what she thinks.’

For a moment, Leopold thought he had erred terribly, that Samuel would strike him dead.  The magician’s flash of fury faded as quickly as it had come, leaving a warning to not tread upon ground where he was not welcome.

‘Jessicah is all I have left.  She is a goddess, remarkably clever, and resilient, too.  You will make no friends here if your idiocy continues.  I will give you space, Leopold, but when the time to aid me arrives, I expect your full co-operation.  Get in my way, and I shall remove you.  It would be unfortunate, Leopold.  I would not want to break my word to your mother and father—but if necessary, I will.’

Leopold waited, wishing the magician to leave first; he did not.  Lord Samuel turned his back and patiently watched the sea.  It was Leopold who was forced to stalk way, furious.

****

Lessons continued and Leopold realised he would never be a great swordsman.  At first he was excited by the premise of discovering affinity for swordplay hidden within his core, but he quickly proved himself wrong.  Gains came slowly and he made the same mistakes repeatedly, much to the frustration of his teacher.  He would never be a master, but he was pleased for learning the basics—to be able to defend himself and not look foolish or slice off his hand as he readied his weapon.

Captain Orrell passed his training onto various men under his command so that Leopold could learn from each of their styles, their insight.  That’s how the captain explained it, but Leopold suspected it was more that he was a terrible student.

Most of his instructors were patient and considerate men, and through them Leopold learned a further lesson: he could use his position as Emperor to advantage.  Unlike Samuel and Captain Orrell, they spoiled him, catering to his every need, happy to fetch him water and run errands if asked.  Leopold tested his boundaries, and amazingly had few.  If he commanded the men, they obeyed him, whether it was cooking between meals or raiding the liquor supplies and bringing him brandy or rum.  He had been foolish—he could have been doing this from the start.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant June,’ Leopold called, towelling himself down after a heated practice with the man.  He now had no misgivings about practising in the open upon the main deck, enjoying the crowds of crewmen and soldiers that watched and cheered him on.  He was no match for any of his teachers, and so the slightest victory with the practice sticks brought applause.

‘Well done, Your Highness,’ Lieutenant June replied.

He was a frail and delicate man, compared to the other soldiers aboard, in his sixties at least, but with bountiful experience.  Leopold used his youth and agility in an attempt to best him, but Lieutenant June was expert at keeping his position, shifting his feet efficiently and forcing Leopold to work hard—keeping to the middle and rotating on the spot while Leopold had to circle around him.

‘That will be enough for today,’ Leopold announced, unable to get the upper hand.  He signalled for a nearby fellow to bring him a flask of water.

‘It’s only been a half hour, Your Majesty,’ June noted.

‘That’s plenty,’ Leopold said, waving off the man’s protest.

‘You’ve progressed well,’ called a voice and Leopold unhappily observed Daneel standing at the edge of the crowd.  ‘I don’t mind offering my services, Your Majesty.  I could give you a few lessons that would benefit you.’

Leopold had made no secret of his dislike for the man and was not about to be polite now.  ‘Not necessary,’ he replied.

‘Come now, Your Highness.  I’m sure you would love to have a go with me.  I have this terrible disfigurement, after all,’ he said, pointing to his face.  ‘You could smack me on the rear.’

‘If it were a real sword, I might reconsider,’ Leopold bluffed, bringing hearty laughter in return.

Daneel smiled graciously.  ‘You still have much to learn, Your Majesty.  I take back my offer—until you are deserving of such a challenge.’

‘Afraid I may show you up in front of the men?’ Leopold called aloud.

Daneel’s mirth deepened as he stepped in closer.  ‘Excuse me, Lieutenant,’ he said to Lieutenant June and the older man nodded humbly and stepped aside.  ‘I shall tell you what, young Emperor,’ he said, baring his empty palms.  ‘If you can touch me with that practice baton of yours I shall jump overboard and swim the rest of the way.  If you cannot, you will apologise in front of these men.’

A murmur ran through the gathering, for the Emperor’s honour was being called into question.  No Turian would have dared such an offence, but Daneel was certainly no Turian.

Leopold was thinking of a scathing comeback to save face.  He knew he was not up to Daneel’s challenge, as tempting as it was.

A commotion erupted from the aftcastle, and Commander Riggadardian emerged from his cabin, Captain Orrell in pursuit.  The commander was livid.  His face red, he was bellowing for all to hear as they stood upon the stairway.

‘How dare you keep this from me, Captain!  Who do you think you are!’

Orrell was calm and was doing his best to defuse the enraged man.  ‘I’m sorry, Commander.  It was a necessity.  Lord Samuel clarified that he was coming and we both knew how you would respond if you knew the truth.’

‘Of course you did!  He is the most wanted man in the Empire!’

‘A long time ago, Commander,’ Orrell replied.  ‘The world has changed.  Old warrants such as this are no longer valid.’

‘Indeed they are!’ Riggadardian boomed.  ‘No one has rescinded any such warrants and they remain valid while the Empire exists.’

Orrell was sighing.  Riggadardian huffed down the stairway, leaving his captain.  The crowd parted as he stood before Leopold—most of those gathered quickly moved away from the commander’s wrath.  His wife, Lady Wind, had followed them out onto the landing beside Orrell and was looking down upon her husband with worry.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ he began.  ‘Do you know anything of this?  Did you know the old man who shares your cabin is no other than Salu Anthem, the most wanted person in the history of the Empire?’

‘I know his name,’ Leopold responded, ‘and no more, except he was once a capable magician.’

Riggadardian quivered, looking older and more weary than before.  ‘And you have no objections?  This is the same man who tried to kill your father and kept him living in fear for much of his latter life!’

‘So I have heard, Commander, but my father is dead.  Salu has grown frail and harmless.  What can we do?’

‘We can execute him!’ Riggadardian declared.

‘With due respect, Commander, we should not,’ Captain Orrell said, coming down beside them.

‘This is outrageous.  Where is your loyalty, man?  Do you have Turian blood?’

‘Salu will not be harmed,’ spoke the voice of Lord Samuel, and the magician was among them, unnoticed until that moment, stepping from the air.  Riggadardian opened his mouth, but Samuel spoke on, softly, in a voice that left no doubt who was in command.  ‘The old man is needed.  Leave him alone.  He is under my care.’  He waited, looking expectantly at the commander.

The man blew heavily, a look of nervousness entering his eyes.  He sought support from those around him but no one spoke up.  The crowd had shrunk from the magician, and those crewmen that remained darted away.

When Riggadardian had not found his voice, Samuel spoke again, louder for all to hear.  ‘The old man is a felon, but he shall not be harmed while he is on this ship or in our company.  By Imperial law, Commander Riggadardian is within his rights to seek punishment; it shall wait until our voyage is ended.  No one shall threaten Salu until we are back on Turian soil.  To do otherwise could endanger the success of Emperor Leopold’s quest.  I trust I am understood.’

There was no nodding or murmuring of assent.  Everyone across the deck stood unmoving—including those caught skittering away.  They would do as the magician said, his inescapable gaze falling across them.

Thankfully, Commander Riggadardian redeemed his honour in front of the men.  ‘Yes, you are right, Lord Samuel.’  He nodded wearily.  Those nearby heard his quavering voice.  ‘I was keen to see justice done and ... I—I did not think the matter through.’

‘Of no import, Commander.’  Samuel commenced returning to his cabin, with those gathered parting to make way.  ‘Your loyalty and enthusiasm are noted by all.’

‘Back to your duties,’ Orrell called and the men were in motion.  ‘Come, Commander,’ he said to Riggadardian.  ‘This calls for an early shot of rum.’

‘Yes—yes, it does,’ replied the frazzled, aging fellow.

As the crew thinned, Jessicah remained, watching the captain and commander depart.  She wore a beautiful white summer dress that skimmed the floor.  She sauntered up to Leopold, who remained where he had finished his swordplay.

‘Leopold,’ she said.  ‘See?  Samuel is not heartless.  He could have left the commander embarrassed in front of his men.  Instead, he made a point of saving the man’s pride.’

‘I saw,’ Leopold had to admit.

‘Then do you maintain he is a monster?’

‘Nothing has changed.  One small effort does not make any difference.  Samuel had to keep the peace, and it does him no good having a useless commander on board.’

Jessicah sighed.  ‘It seems Samuel could do nothing to redeem himself in your heart, Leopold.’

‘You are right.  Come, let us stroll before lunch.’

‘I’m sorry, Leopold.  I wish to speak with Lady Wind.  I need her advice for another matter of importance.’  Leopold tightened his lips, and did not reply. ‘Take care, Leopold.  I shall speak with you later.’

When she spoke to him, it was as if to a child.  She saw no man in him, nothing attractive, and it burned a hole inside of him.  Leopold twisted the length of his practice blade, wishing he could snap it into tiny pieces.

****

That night, Leopold stood upon the aftcastle, leaning against the starboard handrail, a heavy cup of rum in his hand.  The sailors received a serve every second day or whenever they excelled in their drills, but Leopold had rarely been fond of it.  Tonight however, it set him in a mellow mood.  The moon was out, the stars clear, the sea calm and the wind gentle.  Together with the liquor inside, he felt sublime.

Salu was beside him, eyes shut with his face set into the wind.  Toby had found a hand brush and a bucket and decided that scrubbing the same inch of deck was a fascinating thing to do.  Leopold had spent several minutes thinking of a way to harness the boy’s rampant, untempered energy, before giving up, defeated.  A few of the crew were fixing cracked planks on the opposite side of the deck and some of Orrell’s soldiers were milling about, also not keen to retire too early on a peaceful night.

‘It’s not so bad out here,’ Leopold said to the befuddled magician.  ‘At times it is splendid.’

Salu, of course, did not respond and Leopold was glad for it.  If the old man talked it might ruin his splendid mood.

Leopold put his back to the rail to look across the ship.  He strode over and viewed the main deck and across to the fo’c’sle.  He saw a feminine figure far away.  There were only two women it could have been, and Leopold guessed which one it was.  The man beside her was definitely not Riggadardian.  Given that the pair were arm in arm, the woman was also not Lady Wind.  It was Jessicah and Captain Orrell.

The two had been together often lately, both disturbing and fascinating Leopold.  Disturbing, because he was jealous of her being with another, and fascinating because the closer they became, the more he could hurt them with the secrets he possessed.  And hurting either of them was as good as wounding the magician.

He watched them from afar.  They stopped in the moonlight as their figures merged briefly, before lamplight became visible again between them.  They continued along the edge of the ship, strolling towards the bow.

Leopold grit his teeth.  He set his cup down and made purposefully along the ship, down onto the main deck and up again onto the smaller fo’c’sle.  He followed the edge of the ship, moving in the opposite direction to the captain and Jessicah, inevitably bumping into them.

As they saw him coming, they released each other’s arms and Jessicah stepped away from the captain to rest her elbows lightly upon the railing.

‘Leopold.  Good evening,’ Captain Orrell greeted him contentedly.

‘Is there no Your Majesty anymore?’ Leopold replied curtly.

Orrell, not to be caught by surprise, summed up Leopold’s mood.  ‘Apologies, Your Majesty.  I trust you are enjoying the evening.’

‘I am,’ he replied.  ‘Good evening, Jessicah,’ he added, past the captain’s shoulder.

She smiled to him genuinely, and it chafed him.  The deplorable woman was so good and pure that she bore no judgement on Leopold’s evil mood.  ‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ she replied.

‘What can I do for you, Your Highness?’ Orrell asked.

‘I apologise for interrupting you,’ and he nodded towards Jessicah to be sure the captain knew what he meant.  ‘I wanted to ask you an important question.’

‘Yes?’ said the man, stepping closer.

‘It is an interesting matter, one which I believe requires your attention.  After the Darkening, were you in Cintar?’

‘Why, yes,’ Orrell replied, curious as to Leopold’s purpose.

‘Were you there when the Witch Queen appeared?  When she first came to power?’

‘No.  I was sent to reinforce Seven Oaks before she appeared.  Cintar fell to her overnight.’

‘So you never saw her?’ Leopold asked.  ‘I want to be sure?  You don’t know of her appearance?’

Jessicah considered Leopold with concern.

‘No, never.  I can’t say I know anyone who saw her and lived ... except for you and Lord Samuel ... and Jessicah,’ he added, briefly looking over his shoulder towards her.  As he glanced her way, Jessicah turned back to the sea.  ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Never mind, Captain.  It is not important.  One more thing: hypothetically—out of interest—what should have been done if we had captured her, instead of killing her as we certainly did?’

‘These are dark questions for another time, Your Majesty,’ the captain said, inferring that such language as he would like to use would not be proper in front of Jessicah.

‘I’m curious,’ he said.  ‘You don’t need to go into detail.’

‘I would arrange for her execution.  That would be fitting for the demon that she was.  Given the depravity of her crimes, there are some especially vicious and torturous executions that would be appropriate.  I won’t go into detail here.’

‘What if she repented?’ Leopold asked.  ‘What if she promised to be good—if she believed she could be?  What then?’

‘It wouldn’t matter, Leopold.  She would be punished.  It is Imperial law, and even if it wasn’t, I would do it anyway.  Any sane man would.’

Behind the captain, Jessicah’s eyes were imploring Leopold to stop.

Leopold smiled.  ‘Thank you, Captain.  I was merely checking.  I will leave you two alone.  Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘I will,’ returned the captain, perplexed at Leopold’s questions.  ‘Good evening to you, too.’

Before Leopold had started away he could see Jessicah fleeing, hands hiding her tears.

‘What—?’ Orrell exclaimed as he discovered her hurrying away.

Leopold strode away, back towards his deck, a smug smile on his face.

He climbed halfway up to the aftcastle and entered the passage to his room, thinking how clever he was.  Ahead in the hall, a flash of dark cloth broke him from thought, and he hurried, passing his room and continuing around the corner.  There was no sign of anyone in the passage, and those soldiers still awake spied him curiously from their rooms as he passed.  Leopold rushed ahead; the passage branched and he was unsure which way to go, or if he had seen anything at all beyond rum-inspired illusions.

He stood at the intersection and ‘Samuel?’ he called at a whisper.  ‘Lomar?’ he persisted.  No reply came and no one met him.  Leopold returned to his cabin, hoping it had been his imagination.

Toby was asleep, one arm draped over the side and mouth hanging open.  Salu was awake, sitting in place with his hands clasped.  He cocked his head as Leopold returned, listening intently, returning straight again once Leopold had clasped the door behind him.

‘Ah, Salu,’ Leopold said, struggling to get off his boots.  ‘Why is life so complicated?’  Salu grunted and nodded his head.  At least it was a sign that he could hear him.  ‘It was much simpler before all this happened.’

‘Mm,’ Salu grunted.

‘Have you wondered if we could turn back time?  Wouldn’t that be wonderful.’

‘Mm.’

‘Would you do it if you could?’

‘Mm.’

‘I thought so.’  Leopold washed his face in the washbowl and stripped to his underclothes, slipping into bed.  ‘Good night.’

The cabin was rolling more than usual, fuelled by his consumption of liquor.

‘Good night,’ Salu returned.

Leopold opened his eyes, startled by the reply.  He should not be surprised, for the man took pleasure in returning to sanity unexpectedly.

‘Oh.  You’re with us now.  Why no answer to my questions?’

‘Because you talk enough for the both of us.  Go to sleep.  I’m thinking.’

Leopold chuckled, heavy minded, and it did not take him long to forget being awake altogether.

****

The following weeks passed slowly, excruciatingly.  According to the maps, they had crossed half the world, and soon they would reach their destination.  Leopold could not wait.  The feeling on the ship was stagnant and the air grew hotter and heavier with each day.

The only notable event was when another unsightly beast appeared in the distance.  This time, the enormous sea creature coursed towards them, causing a surge of mountainous waves in its wake.  As expected, Samuel flew out to meet it and he threw down a handful of blinding light, bringing a mighty crack of thunder.  He returned flying upon the wind, leaving the unseen creature behind him to vanish beneath the waves, sending up jets of spray.  The sailors cheered, for a number of them had lost their nervousness of magic, given that Samuel now defended them regularly.  Though none spoke to him directly, he had lost much of his terrible air.

The magician continued setting Leopold to his tasks, each time asking him if he had had enough, each time Leopold declaring, ‘Yes!’ and each time the man guffawed and gave him more work to do.

Leopold had tried to determine what the man wanted with him; in the end he decided it was simply to meet his own sadistic desires to see him break.

‘Yes!  Yes!  I’ve had enough!  I give up!  You win!  You’ve beaten me!’ Leopold declared on one occasion, feeling on the point of lunacy after mucking out the steamy pig pens until they were too clean even for the pigs.  ‘I give up!’ he said, throwing his broom aside.  ‘You’re stronger than me!  You’re better than me!  I can’t do it.  I can’t go on!  Is that what you wanted to hear?  Is that sufficient?  Are you happy to have driven me to this?’

‘No,’ the magician replied, shaking his head.  ‘Keep going.  One more time,’ he said, and returned to the Emperor his mop.

Leopold did not know how long he could endure the mistreatment.  Amazingly, he did not go mad, surviving by imagining new kinds of torture for the magician.

In addition, he was at odds with most on board, except for the witless Salu, the only one to whom he could unburden his woes, mostly without reply.

They would soon reach their destination, and Leopold hoped with landfall would come a much needed change.

Interlude

AFTER TWELVE DAYS and nights the battle ended.  The last and greatest of the demons fell to earth, vanquished, a fiery comet trailing ruin in its wake.

It cost many lives and almost his own, but Darrig Lin, Elder of the Council of the Wise, ripped the hellish living armour from around the fiend and cast it aside.  That mountainous corpse now dominated the horizon, turning to stone as it cooled.

Darrig stood over the demon’s smaller, host body where it had come to ground, and drew in a deep breath to stay his courage.  He was blackened from the battle. Hot blood streamed down his wrists and over his fists as he contemplated the most difficult task of his life.

The three disciples waited not far away, successfully stripped of their demons, bound in chains and denied of their powers.  This one—the strongest—had proven stubborn.  Deeply rooted within its host, it would see him dead before relinquishing him.  It had been weakened, but given time it would soon return to strength.

So be it, thought Darrig, steeling himself.  The portal must be sealed!

He raised his staff and poured out the last of its power.  The foolish youth, the one to blame for opening the rift to the demon’s world, screamed in pain.  Screaming jets of energy covered his smoking body, spewed over him in ragged forks of lightning so he was lost amongst the bright fury.

The howls of demons had been bearable, but hearing these human cries skewered Darrig’s heart.  This was not simply anyone he was torturing; it was Marrag—his only son.

The young man writhed in agony upon the scorched soil, little more than a shimmering shadow at the core of a blinding inferno.  There was very little life left in him, but Darrig continued, intent to drive the demon out or see Marrag dead, unable to offer his son even one speck of leniency.

Evil could not be allowed to persist, no matter the cost.  It would multiply and return with renewed strength.  As it was, the ending of the world had been narrowly averted.  There was no reason—not even to save his son—that chances could be taken.

‘Wait,’ came a pained voice, raised above the noise of the spell, and Darrig hesitated.  He sensed some change and, carefully, he allowed his power to calm.

In the bottom of the crater was the naked, balled up form of Marrag, quivering with pain and with one pleading hand outstretched towards his father.

‘The demons have gone, Father,’ called the voice of the son.  ‘They have escaped.’

Darrig wanted to cry out with joy at hearing the sound of reason emanating from his child, but outwardly he showed nothing.  This was not a time for compassion or capitulation, for demons could be cunning in so many ways.  He had learned that awful lesson already.  Devils could not be underestimated.  Assumptions could not be dared.

Marrag struggled to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him.  His father regarded him gravely, ready to strike, but the boy’s mother came running in and with a gesture from the ring on her finger, wove a cloth and threw it about his shoulders to cover his naked form, hugging him tightly.

‘Take care!’ Darrig hissed, but his wife flashed blazing eyes towards him.

‘He is our son, Darrig!  Can you not see the evil has left him.  Our son is returned to us!’

‘You have saved me, Father ... saved us all.’  Marrag laboured to speak.  He struggled to rise, and with the help of his mother, clambered from the hole.  ‘But the damage has been done.  The rift cannot be sealed now it has been opened—it can only be guarded.  This war is far from over.  It is only beginning.’

Darrig regarded the youth closely.  It seemed true that the essence of evil had fled.

The city and the council and every living thing within sight had been turned to dust in the battle.  Much of the world suffered during the demons’ short reign of terror: seas boiled and rivers turned to dust, forests turned to sand.  Countless souls had been lost, devoured and used as fodder.

‘We cannot rest,’ Marrag said, stumbling towards his father with his mother at his side, supporting him.  ‘Evil has found us and it will never relent until we have been consumed.  They hunger for every one of us, and everything living.  They would draw the last beads of precious essence from the spirit of our world.’

‘But what can we do?’ Thann, one of the minions, asked.  Bound together, the three staggered closer.  ‘We cannot give up.  We cannot do nothing!’

The weary youth, held on two legs by his mother’s assistance, harboured no doubt.  ‘I will stand guard and keep the demons at bay, until such time as we can find a way to vanquish them forever.’

‘But how can you do that, my son?’ Darrig asked.

‘It can be done.  I will shed my mortal form and protect this world.  I can keep them at bay, while my strength remains.’

‘But that is nonsense,’ Rei, the female servant, declared.  Beneath the layers of grime she was a beautiful woman, but the battle and shame had broken her, drained her of dignity and stooped her over.  ‘You are in no state to do anything.’

‘The demons will take time to regather their strength,’ Marrag stated.  ‘We must use that time to our advantage.  We must nurture our world back to health, guard her while she is healing, try to undo all this madness we have sown.  It will be no easy task.  All our strength will be required.’  He looked to his three friends.  ‘I will need you three to stand guard while I prepare.  Restore what was lost.  Will you do it?’

They nodded solemnly, understanding the implications of their choices.

‘Consider it your penance for what we have done,’ he added.  ‘You are each spent, but I will consume what remains, and in doing so I will seal the spell—a covenant of rebirth and obligation.  I ask you again to be sure ... will you help me?  Will you undo this evil that we alone are responsible for unleashing?’

‘We will,’ Thann said.

Poltamir, the third disciple, ever anxious, nodded rapidly.

Rei kept her head low.  Between her sniffles, she made a solemn nod.  ‘I will.’

The young man looked to Darrig.  ‘Father, with you permission I will begin.’

The man nodded soberly, knowing what it implied, stifling the mother’s attempts to object with a firm glance.

Marrag took a steadying breath and stepped clear of his mother, his strength returning by the moment.  ‘Then let it be.  Surrender yourselves to me, as you did when we first commenced our folly.  I will separate your threads from the weave of the world, everlasting, distinct; bastions to those that still survive.  Tend all life and nurture the spirit of mankind as best you can.  Strengthen yourselves; I may need to return and revitalise myself if my endurance wanes.’

‘But how long will this take?’ Rei asked, searching for a glimmer of hope amongst the ruin.

‘I do not know,’ Marrag admitted.  ‘It could be a hundred years or more for all I know.  I will continue for as long as it takes.  If we can persevere, we may just prevent the hordes from returning.’

‘And what after that?’ Poltamir asked.  ‘Just persevere?  Surely we can do better than that?  How can we rid the world of this plague of evil that we have brought upon ourselves?’

Marrag shook his head.  ‘I know of no way to close the doorway we have opened.  A tear is a tear, and cannot be restitched.  Life, in every form, must continue to exist.  That is our hope, that somehow, before too long, we discover our salvation—or someone finds it for us.’

The three accepted the matter and put their hands to Marrag’s shoulders as he gathered his spell.  His mother and father stepped back, holding each other, the stout Staff of Elders firm in Darrig’s hand.

Thann and Rei clasped their fingers together as the spell fluttered through them and the bond was made and the spell was sealed.  When it was done, all three were gone, vanished from the face of the earth.

Marrag drew back his shoulders, standing taller, his muscles filling out the slack in his clothes once more, infused with the remnants of his minions.

‘I am sorry for all this, my son,’ Darrig said, shaking his head.  ‘I feel responsible for everything.’

Marrag looked to his father with bright, hopeful eyes.  ‘Not at all, Father.  You were not to blame.’

‘We on the Council of the Wise had become blinded by our pride.  We never thought something like this could happen, let alone under our very noses.  We used our machines and devices to harness the power of life, yet we stole it from the heart of our world, weakened her and through that allowed this to occur.  Never did we think our acts could attract the attention of such wickedness.’

‘No, Father.  It was only a matter of time before they found us.  This malevolence is consuming the cosmos world by world, attracted to any life that may flourish within the void between stars.  We have been fortunate until now, but it was inevitable.  Our recent mistakes only accelerated the process, shone a light towards them and gathered their attention.’

‘We thought we had formed the perfect society,’ his mother stated.  ‘How foolish we had become.’

‘Speak no more of it, Mother.  When I return, everything will be well.’

‘But how will you return, son?’ Darrig asked.  ‘Once you abandon your body you know it will not be possible to walk upon the earth.’

‘I will need you for that, Father, and you, Mother, with your assent, but it will also mean a great sacrifice on the part of you both.’

‘No sacrifice is too much, my son,’ his mother told him.  ‘The fate of the world is at stake.’

‘You will need to prepare a body for me to return—an empty vessel capable of containing my spirit.’

‘How can we accomplish such a feat?’ the father asked, perplexed.

‘The same way we did the first time, my love,’ his wife told him.  ‘We will bear him into this world again.’  She turned to her child.  ‘Remember, my son, that once in spiritual form, your mind will wander.  Without the leash of mortality, it may be difficult to remember your path.  You must focus upon it with all your might or you risk becoming lost.  You may become a danger, perhaps even to yourself.’

‘Don’t worry.  I will take care.  Mother ... Father, I am sorry for being the foolish son I am.  I can only hope that someday I can undo what I have done, and that you will love me once again.  I will not fail you again.  I love you.’

‘You have not lost our love, my child,’ the father stated, teary eyed.

His mother was resilient, taking a strengthening breath.  ‘Come, Marrag ... let us begin.  We must commence the task at once, and you need our strength, also.’

‘Take these devices,’ Darrig suggested, glancing at his staff, but Marrag discounted the idea.

‘No, Father.  Let them remain.  Those left behind will need their power to build back their world.’

The three hugged and a blinding light surrounded them until they were black silhouettes within a sun fallen to the ground.  It grew and grew, brighter and brighter until even the figures were gone and only the expanding brilliance remained, growing out across the scorched plain, where once lay rivers and fields.

The brightness thinned, but did not slow, steadily fading as it bulged across the earth.  When it was too dim to be discerned, there, at its centre, was the body of a young man lying face up on the soil.  On one side, lying in the dirt, was a staff, on his other, a ring … abandoned.

His eyes were open, but he had lost the strength to see.

His heart was struggling in his chest.  Slowly, it lost its vigour, and the pounding grew wan—and then it stopped altogether, silence filling the space where a beat should have been.

In those last few moments before his mind left his body and he became akin to a god, Marrag Lin thought his last dying thoughts.

He loved his mother, but she was selfless and would always forgive him—she already had, completely and entirely with her whole being.  It was his father that concerned him, for the hurt and anguish he witnessed upon the man had branded itself deep into his memory.

‘Father,’ he croaked, the last sound issuing from his cracked lips.

Then, with the spirit flown, there was only flesh and bone.

Chapter Six

Beyond Summer

WORD SPREAD AMONGST the crew their goal was nigh, and just as predicted, an island soon became visible in the distance.  At first sight, it resembled a low dark cloud on the horizon.  Its features became more apparent as they neared and excitement flourished.  They had long been at sea with nothing but the horizon all around them, so the premise of landfall was enough to have the deck full of men spinning in circles, arm in arm.  Shouts and cheers abounded.

Leopold had long given up counting the days and weeks.  He emerged blinking from his cabin to see what was causing all the hubbub, hung over from another night of unrestrained self-pity and consumption of liquor.

In preparation for their voyage, Lady Wind helped them to design navigation equipment and drew detailed maps of their route, all forged from her remarkable memory.  So far, her work had proved precise.  Presumably, this was the start of an archipelago that curled up from the northern shores of Koia.

The lady was beside her husband.  Together with Captain Orrell, the three breasted the foredeck, gazing ahead.  Riggadardian observed the land mass through his cylindrical spyglass, and periodically lowered it to talk vibrantly with his wife.  He appeared in the best of humour, buoyed by the sight of land as much as his men.

Lieutenant Fillius called aloud and the willing crewmen made subtle changes to their direction, pulling and heaving on their lines, calling below to the rudder room, chorusing their actions aloud.  At times such as this, when their spirits were high, one of them would take the lead, singing aloud and the rest of the crew would follow with a rowdy shanty.

‘Haul on th’ bowline,’ called the shantyman.

‘Th’ ship she is a ro-o-llin’,’ came the chorus.

‘Haul on th’ bowline.’

‘Th’ bowline, haul!’

There were hundreds of such tunes, with just as many variations.  Leopold thought he knew them well by now—too well for his own liking.

Presently, the men sang with grins on their faces, all eyes locked on that precious piece of land.  Their voices had not brimmed with such gusto the whole voyage through.

Judging from their course and speed, they aimed to round the island, rather than drop anchor.  Leopold filled with disappointment, but he knew they were bound to stop at the next island, perhaps within hours, he told himself.

It was pointless to land here, for there was not a tree or shrub in sight.  The island was little more than a crescent-shaped sandbar jutting up from the sea, a crystal blue lagoon taking a bite from its side.  The water was so shallow and clear around it, almost entirely colourless upon the white sand, that their ship could not venture near for fear of running aground.

Flat, unmoving soil! thought Leopold.  How we would love to stand upon it, for just a few moments.  By the gods, he was sick of the sea.

‘This is Summer, the first island of The Four Seasons,’ Lady Wind announced.  ‘It receives the constant brunt of the wind and never a drop of rain falls.  These sacred places mark the northernmost edge of our realm.  Once passed, the islands become immeasurable in size and number all the way to the mainland.  We will reach The Heavenly City inside of a week.’

The songs and merriment faltered and faded as it became apparent they were moving on.  They passed by Summer silently, forlornly, and continued across the open sea, all eyes looking behind.

****

At noon of the next day, another, much larger island came into view.  A single mountain peak rose from its centre, covered in lush green forest.  Temple tops protruded from the foliage and a few small buildings edged the beach.  Everything was ruined and abandoned, with no sign of habitation.  Thus, they glided by Autumn, with more sighs of regret resounding from the men.

****

The next island was Winter and from the excitement and activities of the crew, it appeared they would indeed be making a landing.  Preparations were already commenced.

The water was tranquil beneath the ship’s hull.  The sandy ocean floor was easily visible, with the Farstride’s shadow skipping along it.  Fish darted and crabs scuttled to safety upon their passing.

Leopold wished he could leap in and cool himself, for the humidity had grown debilitating, demoralising.  The sky was untainted blue from horizon to horizon and Leopold longed for clouds, some relief from the heat their rain might bring.

Nearer towards the island, coral blocked their approach.  The Farstride readied to drop anchor.  A call sounded and men drew in the sails, yelling and heaving in their teams, hurrying across the deck in formation like a re-enactment of movements upon a battlefield.

Again, the leaders of their expedition were out on deck.  Jessicah was beside them, looking out towards the island with expectation as the wind blew softly in her golden hair.

‘Are we stopping?’  Leopold asked.  ‘Are we going ashore?’

‘Yes, Leopold,’ Captain Orrell replied.  ‘Lady Wind suggests we may find allies here.’

‘Agents were instructed to wait here in hiding, in case we should return,’ the Koian woman explained.

‘It has been so many years, My Lady,’ Leopold noted.  ‘How can you be sure they have waited all this time?’

‘They are Koians, Your Majesty,’ the woman told him assuredly.  ‘They will wait.’

The great ship gruellingly dragged herself to a halt.  Her anchors slammed into the water and raced to the ocean floor, sending up billowing clouds of pale sand, a gentle explosion of grit and shells.  When complete, she was confirmed as firm and the crew breathed a sigh of relief.

Captain Merryweather’s men had mastered the art of launching the landing boats along their way, and several of the little craft were already making for the island while the Farstride was decelerating, Samuel and Daneel visible on the foremost one.  Samuel stood upright, stiff as a plank, while Daneel sat eagerly behind him.

Captain Orrell scowled.  ‘I had better join them.  Lady Wind, I expect we will need you with us.’

‘Of course, Captain,’ she responded with a thoughtful nod.

‘Take good care of her, Captain,’ Riggadardian insisted.  Anxiety creased his brow.

‘As always, Commander.  Leopold, will you come along?’ he asked, turning to the younger Emperor.

‘Of course.’  Leopold leapt to answer, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

‘Jessicah?’ Captain Orrell prompted, facing the woman.

‘If I may,’ she responded.  ‘I would do anything to feel solid ground beneath my feet once again.  But only if it will be no inconvenience.’

‘No trouble at all,’ Orrell returned with a charming smile that made Leopold cringe.

The four of them were soon boarding another of the longboats as it was readied to descend.  Jessicah watched the activity happily.  She delighted in the excitement, dressed in a fresh white frock chosen for the special occasion.

Leopold avoided her gaze.  He sat soberly, set in his mood, rubbing his thumb against the hilt of his sword, over and over on the same spot to occupy his mind.

The oarsmen skilfully navigated between the colourful coral reefs and sandy shoals, following a pale blue strip that ran between them.  They were last in a string of boats headed to shore.  The water was as flat and still as a millpond, and the boat eased itself gently up onto the island with a gentle hiss beside the other craft.

The beach was a gritty mix of sand and fine shells that crunched beneath the feet.  The feeling of solid, immobile ground was wonderful.  Even Leopold, despite his foul humour, broke into laughter.  Crewmen grinned and stamped their feet while Jessicah already had her shoes in her hands and was scrunching her toes on the shore.

The Farstride watched over them from her anchorage, looking serene upon the still waters with figures visible throughout the rigging, checking her over in that rare opportunity of being at rest.  Equipment had already been pulled apart to the sound of hammering and sawing.

Samuel, Daneel and a group of soldiers were inspecting the forest’s edge, so Captain Orrell had Leopold and the others scampering up from the beach to follow.  An array of noises the likes Leopold had never heard abounded from the trees: birds and insects and the howls of monkeys saturated the air, almost deafening.

Lady Wind behaved as if this was familiar ground.  ‘This way,’ she told them, stepping into the jungle, heading towards one of the narrow, broken towers that jutted up from the canopy far ahead.

There was an eagerness in her stride and those who followed shared it.  They pursued her in single file, pushing aside the wide green leaves and advancing into the jungle one after another.  Only a few soldiers remained behind with the crew to watch the boats.

The jungle was dense in every direction, but Lady Wind led them along a route free of fallen trees and other such obstacles.  As the greenery surrounded them, the jungle noises smothered them, sounding from every perceivable direction, incessant and unrelenting.  Shapes leapt between the treetops, scampering, shrieking as they took flight.

Progressing deeper, it became apparent the ground beneath their feet had once been a path, now long overgrown and obscured by years of untempered growth.

A child’s laughter sounded unexpectedly from ahead and Toby sprang into view, bursting from between umbrella-sized leafage.  It was a strange sight, for the whole line of explorers was abruptly halted by the playing of a child, as if he were a tiger appeared to devour them.  Only Samuel was not caught unawares—which was, in itself, unsurprising.

Toby stood mirthfully, laughing at the group before vanishing into the jungle once again, continuing in his original direction.  Daneel looked uneasy, for his weapon was half-drawn.  He eased it back into place, scowling with his single eye.

‘Was it wise to bring a boy to a place like this?’ Leopold asked of the magician in front.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ Daneel called from behind with a voice of jest.  ‘Don’t berate yourself like that.  We all know you have long been a man!’

Leopold clenched his jaw.  ‘I was referring to Toby.’

‘No one brought him,’ Lord Samuel replied.  ‘He came of his own accord.  Who am I to stop him?  If he gets eaten by something it’s his own fault.  I’d call that a good riddance and then we would no longer have to put up with him.’

‘Shouldn’t we send him back?’ Jessicah asked from between the magician and Captain Orrell.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lady Wind called from the lead. ‘There are no carnivorous animals here or dangers for a boy.  The worst he could do is get a splinter or a bruise.’

‘Couldn’t he become lost?’ Jessicah asked her in return.

Lady Wind’s reply was lecturing in tone.  ‘No one can get lost while Lord Samuel is with us.  He can find us wherever we go.  Of that I am sure.’

And Jessicah realised she was right.

‘I have a question, My Lady,’ Daneel called to the Koian woman as they wound along the path.  When she glanced back at him he continued.  ‘Why do you have islands named after four seasons when it seems, from what I have heard and so-far experienced, that only two seasons exist here?  One that is hot and wet, and one that is hot and wetter.’

‘Our nation is large, my good man.  The other seasons do exist in their appropriate regions.  We receive volumes of snow in the highlands and mountains in the west.  We have deserts in the east ... Autumn, Spring, all the rest.  Names are just names, but all such seasons do exist to the south.  Just not here.’

‘Oh,’ he said, accepting the matter.  Everyone except the magician was already soaked with perspiration.  Amidst the trees, it was even worse, for the air was trapped and still.  ‘So we can forget about a cool change any time soon.’

‘You can,’ the aging woman called back.

The further they went, the more the path showed itself, until mossy paving stones were fully visible beneath their feet.  The trail led to small buildings set amongst a clearing.  They were ramshackle and dilapidated, with collapsed roofs and fallen walls.  Moss and fungi grew over the remains like fur, staining them green.  Smaller trees sprung up from their middle, bowing out as if to look over the walls.  It had been many years since anyone set foot here.

‘The Eudans came and defiled even our most precious temples,’ Lady Wind noted.  ‘They enslaved the priests and raised pigs on our most hallowed ground to spite us.  Nothing is sacred to them.’

They approached the foot of one of the towers they had spied from the ship, its top poking up above the treetops.  For some reason, the forest had decided not to crowd in upon this building, although vines had long since snaked up the stonework, squeezing between them and prying them loose.

The clearing was not altogether vacant: Salu was there, staring up at the tower side.  He did not acknowledge their coming, and he was banging on the side of the tower with his stick, perhaps checking to see if the thing would fall before venturing inside, perhaps just enjoying the sound.

Tell-tale laughter emanated from the trees an instant before Toby bound into view, scampering past the old man and vanishing inside.

As the landing party came to Salu’s side, the old magician sat down on the tower steps with a weary sigh and began to probe with his tongue at something stuck between his teeth.

‘How did you find your way here so fast, old goat?’ Daneel asked him, but Salu was not giving away his secrets and instead worked at cleaning the dirt from under his nails, grunting contentedly.

The building was only a few storeys high, with rounded floors of equal girth built atop each other.  Lady Wind led them inside, giving away nothing in her expression, and they wound their way up the stairs to the topmost level.  The roof was gone and the wind and rain had ruined the contents.  Shattered ornaments littered the floor.  Mounds of rotted tapestries were piled up against one wall.  What remained was woven from bamboo, now just heaps of unrecognisable pulp.

Leopold glanced at the overcast sky, unconcealed by branches.  Sweat ran under his shirt.  Despite his hopes, the clouds did nothing to bring relief.

‘What do we do now?’ Captain Orrell asked,  surveying the room.  ‘Apparently, no one is here.’

Lady Wind looked around, searching for some clue amongst the decay.  ‘We wait.’

Orrell leaned out an empty window and called down to his men.  ‘Any sign?’

‘Another path leads further into the jungle,’ someone hollered back in response.  ‘Shall we follow it?’

Orrell turned to the Koian woman, who shook her head, leaving the captain to relay the same gesture out the window to his man.  ‘Stay here.  Don’t venture out of sight.’

****

They waited many long hours at the base of the tower.  Captain Orrell was keen to let his men look around, but Lady Wind insisted they stay together and wait patiently.

‘The Eudans may come; or worse, we could be mistaken for them.  Keep everyone together and with me,’ Lady Wind instructed.

‘I thought you said it was safe,’ Leopold reminded her.

‘I said it was safe for a boy.’

Orrell’s men remained alert, but Leopold soon bored and set about wandering the extents of the clearing.

He stepped up and over the various piles of building stones and rubble.  He poked his sword into the trees and looked between their branches.  If Captain Orrell had seen him using his father’s weapon in such a way, the man would surely have yanked his ear, but Leopold could see little harm in it.  He was careful not to blunt its edge, occasionally hacking at the leaves for boredom’s sake, but avoiding the thicker wood.  For that reason, he kept himself towards the back of the clearing, with the tower between himself and the others.

‘There’s no need to torture the poor trees,’ Jessicah said, having come up quietly behind him.

‘Why is that?’ he asked with annoyance, turning to face her and carefully sliding his sword back into its sheath.  She had startled him, and it infuriated him that a woman could so easily sneak up on him.  She had probably not even been trying.

She looked at the ragged fronds and cut stalks.  ‘They feel it, you know.  They feel it, very slowly, but they do know pain.’

‘What would you know of the feelings of trees?’ he asked her suspiciously.

‘I’ve always felt at home in nature, away from the walls and rooftops of the cities.  Something inside of me gains comfort from places like this, so wonderful and green and vital ... saturated with life.’

Leopold was not about to agree with her.  ‘I think it’s quite awful.’

She ignored his obvious attempts to offend her.  ‘I want to speak to you, Leopold.  About me.  About my secret.’  She spoke earnestly, her palms clasped gently in front of her pale dress.

‘What of it?’ he asked impatiently.  All this waiting around did little for his temper.

‘I’m not sure what you are thinking, but I want to ask you not to tell anyone about what I did—who I was.’

‘By anyone do you mean Captain Orrell?’

‘I mean anyone.  There are no secrets on that ship, Leopold.  Telling one is as good as telling all.’

‘I don’t think it is very wise to hide such truths from the captain,’ Leopold stated firmly, standing as tall as possible and using his best Emperor’s voice.  He had been honing it upon the sailors and thought it was sounding much improved—very regal and commanding.

‘Then if you want to tell him, so be it,’ she responded.  ‘David is a kind man.  He will understand.’

Leopold was disappointed.  His best attempts to infuriate her always failed dismally.  ‘David?’

‘The captain.’

‘Oh,’ he replied in understanding.  He had never even stopped to think the man did have a given name.  ‘You heard what he said about Rei.  He did not sound so understanding to me.  Who could blame him?  The woman inside you destroyed the Empire—my Empire—and killed innumerable innocent people: men, women and children.’

He made a point of mentioning the children, just to wound her even more.  She remained calm and level headed, even through that, and it was Leopold who felt his confidence wavering.

‘You may be right.  I cannot stop you, Leopold, but I implore you to wait.  Everyone will discover the truth soon enough.  I only hoped it would be later rather than sooner, after we have finished with this voyage.’

‘I think sooner,’ he said quite smartly.

She sighed, but Leopold did not receive any of the squirming he had hoped for.  He had mentally rehearsed this conversation many times over the previous weeks, knowing it would come, but it was not nearly as rewarding as he expected.

‘There’s no good to be had from this, Leopold.  I am not sure what has gotten into you.  Perhaps being Emperor has overfilled you with pride.  I very much liked the Leopold I first met, but the one that accompanied me on this voyage is little more than a spoilt child.’

‘Do you really think it’s wise to be so rude?’ he asked, puffing out his chest.  ‘Do you know what would happen if I were simply to open my mouth?’

She scrutinised him, on the brink of looking riled.  Then, as if carried away by the hot air, her anger evaporated and her expression shifted substantially.  She adjusted her weight and pulled her shoulders back to stand straighter, matching his upright stance.

She smiled at him warmly.  ‘Oh, Leopold.  Don’t think of us as enemies.  The captain and I are becoming fast friends, but don’t think I have anything more in mind for him.  Of course I have been saving myself for you, dear Leopold.  I’ve just been too timid to admit it.  Can’t you see how much I care for you?’

‘I—I beg your pardon?’ he stammered, not believing his ears.  Her sudden change of heart was unexpected, overwhelming.

She stepped closer to him, nearly toe to toe.  ‘If you are nice to me, Leopold, I will be nice to you.  Don’t be jealous of the captain.  I’m only befriending him to find out more about Samuel.  The captain knows many of his secrets, his weaknesses.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  To get back at that awful magician?’

Leopold took a step back with alarm, the leaves resisting his retreat.  ‘What are you saying?’  Had she gone mad?  Had he misjudged her all along?

‘You know what I’m saying, Leopold.  We both don’t like that magician telling us what to do.  He killed your father, or have you forgotten?  We should get back at him for that.  He’s done horrible things to me, too.’  She smiled at him demurely.

‘You’d really help me against Samuel?’  Looking closer at the woman, he found the obvious staring him back in the face.  ‘You’re not Jessicah.’

‘Shh,’ she told him gently, as an excuse to put her fingertip to his lips.  ‘Clever little devil, aren’t you, my Leopold?’  There was a deliberate hint of sarcasm in her voice.

‘How long have you been here?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘Just a few moments here and there.  Long enough for me to understand what’s going on.  Enough for me to start making subtle changes for the better.  Jessicah is a brave girl, but when she gets upset she inevitably runs and hides, and that leaves me in control.  Each time I stay a little longer.  Eventually there will be no Jessicah at all.’

Leopold thought about calling to the others, perhaps Samuel or Captain Orrell, until he realised this could be the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted all along.  ‘What can you do to help me rid the world of Samuel?  Neither of us is strong enough to kill him.  What can you do that I cannot do alone?’

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile and Leopold found himself thinking once again how utterly beautiful she was, beyond reason, a goddess sent to earth.

‘Oh there is so very much I can do for you that you cannot do alone, dear Leopold.’  Her smug voice was full of connotations.  ‘We can set a trap for him,’ she said.  ‘We can lead him to danger.  He is not a god.  He is a man with mortal failings and he loves his dear Jessicah beyond all others—nearly as much as his son.  But he is powerful.  He has Thann’s power; he has my power!  It may take some time for the opportunity of our revenge to arise, but I’m sure it will ... soon enough.  Just wait and watch, Leopold.  Be patient.  The time of Samuel’s comeuppance will arrive, and when it does, act swiftly.  Don’t forget, it is him or you, Leopold—a matter of live or die.  You are your father’s son.  There is magic in you too and eventually Samuel will come for it, as he has for everyone else, or he will send his Truthseekers to do his dirty work for him.’

Leopold’s eyes filled with apprehension.  ‘I want no part of magic.  He can have it!’

‘Don’t get excited, boy, it is only a trifle.  I can see it hidden away and kept out of your reach, but Samuel knows of it.  He will claim it for his own without a doubt, and that does not bode well for you.  Beware of him when he is weak, when he is desperate.  When the hunger overcomes him, that is when you should fear him most.  I’m sure he keeps you nearby as a potential snack, something to sate his appetite when he is feeling drained.  He eats souls, Leopold.  That is what demons do.’

Leopold subdued his fear.  ‘And would you abandon the captain once you have what you need from him?’  His voice lowered to a whisper as he voiced his true heart’s desire.  ‘Would you truly save yourself for me?’

Something snapped in her expression and it was clearly Jessicah who was looking back at him with disdain.  ‘Why would I do that?  Well done, Leopold!  Now you’ve confirmed it.  You really are an ass.’

With that, she stormed away, leaving Leopold by himself at the jungle’s edge.  He paused for a moment, wondering if he should follow her.  Shaking his head, he returned to cutting at leaves with his sword.  Rei was right.  There was no hurry, and she would surely show herself again when the time was right.  He was quite looking forward to it.

****

They waited until near dusk, with the sounds of the jungle changing to meet the approaching night.  Leopold was hungry.  They had few provisions, thinking they would only be ashore a short time.

Finally, Lady Wind stood and spoke, breaking the monotony with her announcement.  ‘They come.’

Orrell’s men, alerted, scoured the jungle warily with their eyes.  Somehow Lady Wind had sensed their arrival long before the figures came filing down the path from the mountain.

‘Still your men!’ Lady Wind hissed, for some of Orrell’s soldiers had readied their swords.  She clasped her palms together and put her eyes to the ground and waited, as if in respect for those who approached.

A gesture from Captain Orrell saw his men easing their weapons back into their scabbards, but it seemed they need not have been worried, for it was only young women that stepped into view.  They each had the same tinted skin and angled eyes as Lady Wind and they spread themselves in a line, sixteen in total.

The first thing of note was that each was a svelte beauty.  Several of Orrell’s men swore under their breath.  None of the women could have been past their twentieth year and Leopold was as surprised as everyone to see such young ladies emerging from the trees and ruins, as if there were a wonderful paradise just out of view, home to such heavenly angels.

Apparently, they had been subsisting in these jungle wilds, but none of them looked the least bit dishevelled.  Quite the opposite, they were immaculately clean and well-dressed, as if readied to attend some royal gala.  Some had their long black hair pulled tight in ponytails, or tied up in decorative fashion.  Some had shorter hair that hung freely about their shoulders.  They wore shimmering, figure hugging garments, similar to Lady Wind’s in design, but while her clothes were made from the simple fabric common to Amandia, theirs shimmered in the light.  Lady Wind would later explain it was silk, a material rare in Amandia before the Darkening.

One of them conversed with Lady Wind in some unfathomable language that only the good Lady comprehended.  The young woman’s expression was serious as she spoke to the older, and she looked as if she had never laughed in her life.  Such a grievous bearing looked altogether strange on her youthful face.

Samuel, the only one still sitting, raised himself, slowly and groaning like an old man, to come beside Leopold.

‘Do you understand them?’ Leopold asked of the magician.

‘I understand everyone,’ he said.  ‘The Lick of the Ancients taught me all languages.’  The reference escaped Leopold.  ‘Even if I did not, they speak the Old Tongue, which I learned long ago.  Here.  It is a simple matter, and it is fitting that you understand them, too.  I will just give you fair warning: I would treat these young ladies very carefully if I were you.  They will not put up with nonsense.’

Leopold was trying to make sense of the magician’s comments, when surprisingly, between one word and the next, he understood what was being said.

‘—before we saw you arrive, Lady Wind,’ the young woman was saying.  ‘We waited twice the standard time to be sure of no deception, to be sure you were not being held against your will.  We noted your signals with caution.’  She spoke with authority, as an equal to the much older woman.

‘That was well, Phoenix.  I expected no less.  I must say, it has been many years since I had someone to converse with in my own tongue.  I am truly happy to at last be home.’

Phoenix nodded in return, devoid of expression.  ‘We have waited several years.  We came to see what happened to those sent before us, but there was no sign of them.  Something took them without warning, before they could leave markers to explain their demise.  We carried on with their duties, awaiting your return.’

‘What is happening on the mainland?’ Lady Wind asked, impatient to hear the news.

‘The Eudans continued arriving until five years ago, with a last sudden rush.  At the same time, they stopped attempting to send anyone back.  They burnt any ship capable of making the crossing, making it clear that the Eudan invaders do not ever intend to leave.’  Her voice was flat as she made her report, but her next question was filled with hope.  She stepped up to Lady Wind and took both the older women’s hands in hers.  ‘Where is she?  Where is our god?’

‘She perished,’ was Lady Wind’s response and the collection of young women murmured with concern, shaken by the news.

The one called Phoenix was confused.  ‘Perished?  That is a strange choice of words.  Have you found her new vessel?’  She glanced momentarily towards Jessicah.

But Lady Wind shook her head.  ‘I have spoken long with our magician about this.  Our god’s spirit has not yet been reborn.  She is in waiting, until complicated matters can be resolved, until the world finds peace once again.’

Phoenix looked thoughtful before setting her gaze directly on Samuel.

‘That one is the magician,’ she stated, no question in her tone, the final word laced with contempt.  ‘I will trust your judgement in keeping such company, but we will keep a close eye on him.’  She turned her attention to Leopold beside him.  ‘And that one also understands.’

Lady Wind followed Phoenix’s gaze to Leopold.  ‘Given what Lord Samuel is capable of, I do not doubt anything is possible.  Nothing seems beyond him.  Thankfully, the magician is our steadfast ally.  Leopold, do you understand me?’

Somehow, Leopold knew that the question had been uttered in the Turian tongue, not Koian, and he nodded his head in response.  He was unsure what would come out of his mouth if he spoke.

Phoenix approached Samuel.  ‘Welcome to our lands, Magician,’ she said in her native tongue.  Her voice had lost the business-like tone she used with Lady Wind, now light and whimsical, as might be expected from a woman her age.  She granted Samuel a playful smile as she bowed her head and clasped her palms gently together.  But her new demeanour lasted no longer than was necessary, and when she again raised her head the emotion had fled.

‘I accept your hospitality, Lady Phoenix,’ Samuel replied.  He did not bow or move.  ‘I am humbled to step upon the soil of Empress Moon—assuming she still lives.’

Anger passed over Phoenix’s visage, a crack in her porcelain mask.  It lasted an instant, barely a twitch at the corner of her eye, but the magician had scored a victory.

Her narrow eyes closed almost altogether as she corrected him.  A smile of gladness formed, plastering over her fractured visage.  ‘She lives, friend Magician, I am sure of that.  She is a prisoner of our Eudan occupiers, but she lives.’

‘A pity,’ Samuel replied and deliberately, unhurriedly, he stepped away to inspect some detail at the edge of the clearing.

Phoenix’s smile collapsed as soon as he turned, and she glowered at his back.  Why the magician was set on vexing her Leopold did not know, but he found it mildly amusing.  It was refreshing to have someone else on the receiving end of Samuel’s distemper.

Phoenix went on. ‘Given you have returned, our task is complete, Lady Wind.  What would you have us do now?’

‘Come with us,’ she told the younger woman.  It is time to retake our home.’

‘It joys my heart to hear that.’  Her expression failed to change, despite her words.  ‘With the aid of these outlanders, our chances are improved.  The sight of a great ship returned will give hope to the people.  The revolt can begin.  Our nation will be restored as it was.  Empress Moon will be freed.’

‘She will,’ Lady Wind replied with a sincere nod.

Phoenix called for her companions to make ready.  Some bound off into the forest to retrieve their belongings and Leopold noticed how strong and lithe they were, leaping on lean but muscled legs, shifting gracefully and without effort; not nearly as delicate as Amandian women.

Samuel caught Leopold openly goggling at them and stepped silently to beside the young Emperor.  ‘I told you, Leopold, if you play with fire you must prepare to be burnt.’

‘What do you mean by that?  Can’t you simply explain something for once?’

‘Of course I can.  It means you are going to ignore me.  It means I am going to be thoroughly entertained by your futile attempts to woo one or more of these Koian women.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Leopold asked suspiciously.

‘It is in your nature, Leopold.  Right now, every fibre of your being is telling me that fact.  Never forget, I can see through your words, Leopold.  I can see through your clothes, through your skin and into the very core of your being.  You have no secrets from me.’

Leopold shuddered.  Through his clothes?

‘What is happening?’ Captain Orrell asked of Lady Wind, not having followed anything being said.

‘They will come with us,’ the older Koian woman replied.  ‘They will aid us.’

‘Lady Wind,’ Samuel told her.  ‘We do not have time to assist with your rebellion.  That is not why we came.’

‘Don’t worry, Lord Magician,’ Lady Wind replied.  ‘I do not intend to get in your way.  Our paths run together for the time being.  When they diverge, you will be the first to know.’

****

The newfound Koian women led the way to the beach, carrying enormous woven baskets on their backs that looked almost their own weight, each one filled with personal belongings and provisions.

The women were remarkably strong and Leopold could only suppose that living on the island had toughened them.  There were no men or other companions, so they had become used to fending for themselves.

They brought with them basketfuls of vegetables and prepared meats, obviously not intent on returning to their hiding place upon the mountain.

Leopold was so busy gawking that he was almost run into by one of the young women as he stopped to observe another adjusting the basket straps over her bare shoulders.  She paused behind him, waiting for him to notice.  When he did, she glared at him, balancing her mountainous load upon her back.  Her hair was tied into a tight tower that rose up from the centre of her head, bound in white cloth right up to the end where her dark hair sprouted.  Her dark eyes turned to slits.

‘Oops.  Sorry,’ he said to her, stepping aside.

‘You pale people look like ghosts.  You hover in front of us as if we could walk straight through you,’ she replied, venom in her tone.  ‘Clumsy Oaf.’

‘I can understand you, you know,’  Leopold told her, now feeling the Koian language passing over his tongue.  ‘That’s very rude.’

‘I know,’ she said, and she marched off past him, setting her hair knot waving left and right as she went, with it peeping out from either side of her basket.

He thought momentarily of offering to help her; looking at the size of her encumbrance and how easily she bore it, he decided she had everything under control.

‘That one was Kali,’ Daneel remarked, stepping beside him, watching the line of women continue by.  ‘That one is Arrow,’ he said, pointing to the one Leopold has been first watching.  ‘Destiny is currently my favourite.  In a moment or two I think it might be Twilight.’

‘How do you know their names?’ Leopold asked the eyepatched man.

‘I asked Lady Wind.  Now they are all up here,’ he said with a smile, tapping his forehead with a finger.

‘All sixteen of them?’

‘When it comes to ladies, I never forget a name,’ Daneel remarked.

It took Leopold those moments to remember his dislike for the man.  He marched away without further word, following the column back towards the beach.

Once the longboats had been filled with the supplies and their new companions had climbed aboard, they dipped their oars and headed towards the ship.  Salu and Toby meandered down from the forest in their own good time, getting into the last of the boats as it pushed away from the shore.  Several more boats had come from the Farstride to help them, and the sailors manning them could not keep their eyes from the women.  They nudged each other and one nearly fell overboard in his surprise as he turned from his oars.

Once again, Leopold marvelled at Samuel’s failure to assist.  One wave of the magician’s finger could have had everything aboard in a flash.  Instead, the delay caused them to arrive in full darkness.

The magician watched everything around him—like a scarecrow with its arms pinned to its sides—never participating unless the need was dire.  He was an observer, watching humanity conduct its business around him, trying to remember if he belonged.

Captain Merryweather organised cabins for their new passengers without hesitation.  There was now much space in the holds, given their vast supplies of provisions were depleted.  They had slaughtered the last of the livestock several days ago and there were far more empty barrels and crates in the holds than full ones.  Many had been smashed to fuel the kitchen stoves.

Lieutenant Fillius relegated a score of his men to the emptied chambers deep below decks, giving the newcomers some of the precious space in the well-lit and better ventilated aftcastle.  The sailors made no effort to hide their stares and grins at the women now boarding, but Commander Riggadardian swore loudly and let them know such behaviour was unfitting of the Imperial navy.  Captain Merryweather followed suit, also berating his men with vim, but he would stop between every second breath, swallow uncomfortably and pull at his stiff collar, gazing at the women with wonder, before returning to his shouts and threats.

****

Leopold was called to Commander Riggadardian’s cabin after dinner.  The Commander, Captain Orrell, Lady Wind and Phoenix were seated around the large table.  The magician was there, seated like a hunched-over ghoul, pallid in the face and looking like he might drag one or more of them to the netherworld at any moment.

They had emptied dinner plates before them, silver cutlery discarded upon those.  Lady Wind and Phoenix both had their customary eating sticks set on theirs.  Even after so many years in Amandia, Lady Wind still preferred them, spurning such things as knives and forks.  Samuel’s space was bare, except for a small cup of water.  His right hand rested beside it, extending from his black sleeve like a pale claw.

The room was spacious, but not so much that the party did not have to shuffle their chairs about as Leopold entered.

‘Come, sit with us, Emperor Leopold,’ Riggadardian implored.

Leopold nodded politely and sat down in the space created beside Samuel.  He looked into the magician’s gaunt face, and was met with a blank, unblinking gaze in return, forcing him to avert his attention.

‘We will reach Koia very soon,’ Riggadardian explained, ‘so we have been exploring our alternatives.’  The commander then paused for Samuel to take over, but as usual, the magician was in no hurry to speak.  Clearing his throat, the Commander went on.  ‘We will go to the Koian capital and investigate what has happened.  Lady Wind and some of her country-women will accompany us.  A small party will go ashore, while the rest of us remain hidden at sea.  Once they return, we will know better what course of action to pursue.’

‘Do we know if the Ancient One is here or not?’ Leopold asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

‘He is not,’ Samuel told him, his voice rasping.  ‘Now we have arrived, I can feel Poltamir further south-east of here.’

‘Further?’ Leopold repeated with disappointment.

‘That’s right.  But before we leave to pursue him, I would learn about the Eudans.  Our new Koian friends were on their island for a long time and have not heard much news from the mainland.  From what I gather, there has been some great disturbance in Euda in recent years that caused their exodus.  I suspect Poltamir is responsible, so we will confirm the details and not dally long.  Euda will be our next port of call.’  Leopold felt his heart sink even further.  ‘Also, I sense magicians here in Koia and I would see what business they conduct, for Koia has never been a nation to tolerate magic.  I will seek an audience with the one who has taken command of the Koian palace—their overseer called Pradmet.  Lady Wind will advise us, and she also hopes to investigate the palace herself, to make her plans for revolution.  Captain Orrell and his men will kindly act as her escort.’

‘So why are you telling me all this?’ Leopold asked.

‘Because you are our Emperor, Leopold,’ Samuel said with an amused smile.  ‘We require your approval.’

Leopold regarded them with something between shock and disbelief.  It was a dismal waste of his time.  ‘Fine,’ he uttered.  ‘Go ahead.’

‘Excellent!’ Riggadardian boomed.  He laughed riotously, clapping Captain Orrell beside him soundly on the back, nearly causing the man to fall from his seat.  ‘See?  Emperor Leopold commands with finesse and precision.  He does not mince his words, just like his father!’

‘And of course, Your Majesty,’ Orrell stated once he recovered from the jolt, ‘we hope you can join us.  This is your crusade, after all.’

‘Don’t you think it might be dangerous?’ Leopold asked.

‘Come now, Your Highness,’ Lord Samuel replied, ‘you know I would never lead you into harm.  I will have the honour of being your protector.’

Strangely, Leopold already assumed he would be going everywhere with the magician.

‘Then if that is all, please excuse us, Your Majesty,’ Samuel continued, sounding overtly courteous—quite out of character.  ‘I am sure you have much to do in your cabin and we have the mundane details of the sortie to discuss.’

Leopold shrugged and pushed back his chair to stand.  Everything would be easier if they did not insist on seeking his permission.  They had never bothered before; why start now?

He returned to his room filled with annoyance.  Much to do in his cabin, indeed!

****

It had grown late and Salu and Toby were fast asleep, now competing to see who could snore in the loudest, most irritating and exaggerated fashion.  Leopold had whiled away the hours polishing his sword and choosing his clothes for their planned excursion.  As he was getting set on readying for bed, Samuel appeared at his door, opening it wide and leaning in.

‘I don’t know why I bother locking it,’ Leopold told him.

‘It was locked?’ Samuel responded, feigning surprise.

‘What do you want?’

‘A word, if I may, Leopold.’

‘Come in,’ he said, but the magician was already through the doorway before he spoke.  ‘Why are we persisting with all this nonsense, if you already know the Ancient One is not here?’  He had forgone adding Magician or Samuel to anything he said; all it did was get him into trouble.  The less he said to the magician, the better.  ‘Should we not be off as quickly as we can and go find this Poltamir?  I want to be done with this infernal quest so I can get back home and organise a hangman to string you up.’  Samuel showed no mirth at the statement.  ‘I’m joking about the last part, of course,’ Leopold was forced to amend, reminding himself of his previous thoughts: the less said the better.

‘In truth, I have some business here,’ Samuel stated.  ‘I would see what happened to the Circle of Eyes in these parts.  I doubt they have been idle all these years, but I have my own plans for them.  If Pradmet is not a member of the Circle, someone close to him certainly will be.  The Circle always keeps close to those in power.  I don’t want to mess around in the dens and marketplaces looking for contacts.  Better we go straight to the source.’

‘So what will you do with these agents?  Turn them into Truthseekers?  Ask them to revolt?’

The magician gave Leopold a doubting glance.  ‘There is no need of Truthseekers in Koia, Leopold.  Magic has never been allowed to take root here.  I will take care of any Eudan magicians we may meet, and the Koians should eventually take care of the rest.  As for revolution, I will leave such events to Lady Wind.  We do not have the time to meddle in politics.  I am sure she has suitable plans.’

‘How do you know?’

‘She is a cunning and resourceful woman, Leopold.  She has not mentioned as much, but I know she has events plotted out for her nation, just as she plotted our course here across the oceans.  Do you remember when she told Phoenix she would free Empress Moon?’

‘I do,’ Leopold said.

‘She lied.’

‘Why would she do that?’  Leopold felt a tinge of intrigue.

‘Empress Moon was not as benevolent a ruler as her subjects fool themselves into believing.  She used the powers of their unwitting god to keep tabs on her empire, observing the people’s thoughts and dreams.  If Empress Moon wasn’t entirely pleased with what her citizens were thinking, swift action was taken.  I get the feeling that if the Eudans had not succeeding in overthrowing the government, the Koian people would have done it themselves.  With their god gone, Empress Moon lost her most powerful weapon.  Repression and subjugation have a way of making people unhappy.  No.  What I want from my agents is the location of their Temple of Shadows.  There will be one here somewhere.’

‘What would you want with a temple?’ Leopold asked with interest.

‘The temples are sanctuaries: repositories of all the magical artefacts and knowledge gathered by the Circle.  I will destroy it.’

‘May I ask why, or is that assuming you actually have some reasoning for such things?’

‘Because when I am finished,’ the magician told him, ‘I want nothing of a magical nature left upon the world.  They are hangovers from a time before.  We no longer have need of such things.  Such power only causes conflict.’

‘There will always be conflict, with or without magical relics,’ Leopold said flatly.

‘True, Leopold, but the stakes will not be so high.  Magic is honey to beasts and demons.  It draws them closer and it makes them ravenous.’

‘Is that why you destroyed the tower in Cintar?  I assumed you were just mad, or throwing a fit.’

‘It is,’ Samuel said with a solemn nod.  ‘The Mage Tower was saturated with magic, a tool of slovenly Order bureaucrats who wanted to reach the heights with minimal effort.  Better to remove it and do without.  There is little magic left in Cintar now to attract Poltamir’s wrath.  Perhaps the people will still be alive when we return.  Who knows?  They could be lucky.’

Leopold considered it for a moment, realising the truth of it, wondering if their cause was already lost.  Everyone in the city could have been butchered by fiends the very same day they left, and they would never know.

‘I want to ask you: why do you want me along?  Do you still trust me when I have sworn to avenge what you did to my father?’

‘Of course I trust you, Leopold.  I trust you to behave in the manner of all people: that you will act spontaneously and erratically because of your youth; that you will act pettily and jealously because you are royalty;  that you will act in ignorance, because you were raised in isolation; that you will act selfishly, because you are merely human; and that of course you will harbour vengeance towards me, because you believe I killed your father.

‘There is little you could do to surprise me, Leopold, except to be perfect, and I would certainly not expect that of anyone—not you and least of all myself.  Yes, I do want you to accompany me.  You are safer nowhere more than with me and if all this comes off—if by some miracle we are successful—Turia will need a leader.

‘I thought I would never hear myself say it, but the Turian Empire is the best chance the people of Amandia have.  If it survives, that tiny clot of civilisation will do much to restore order to the entire continent.  My final reason: the place you can do least damage is with me.  We still need this ship, and the last thing I want is you burning it down or setting the crew to riot while I am absent.’

‘Oh.  So once again it all boils down to what you need.’

‘Of course it does, Leopold.  Did you expect any different?’

Leopold’s spirits fell.  ‘Is anything you do genuine?  Is anything for anyone besides yourself?’

The magician looked confused.  ‘Everything I do is genuine.  I am trying to save the world, Leopold.  How could that be for myself?’

‘I get the feeling you would sacrifice us all if it meant saving your son.’

‘I would be a fool not to,’ stated Samuel.

Leopold scoffed at this, leaving the magician to continue his explanation.

‘Let me put it this way, Leopold, given that you are so quick to judge and so slow to think.  If my son were to perish, the result would be much worse than anything you could imagine.’  He paused, gathering his thoughts.  ‘Did your mother ever tell you I once walked fair across Amandia to find you; that I pulled you from the maw of a beast that was about to devour you, and placed you back into her desperate arms?’

‘She did,’ Leopold admitted, ‘but that was a different magician called Samuel—the one from my childhood.  The one I met seems nothing like that man.’

‘The one you met has much more to contend with.  Which reminds me: Jessicah will also be coming with us, so I don’t want you making trouble for her.’

‘Is that wise?  Is it necessary?’

‘Yes on both counts.  I need to keep a close eye on her.  You are the only one who knows her secret, Leopold.  Rei is growing stronger and Jessicah is in grave danger.  There is little I can do to prevent it, except to keep her from harm.’

‘I understand.’  Despite the magician’s uncanny ability to read thoughts, it seemed he had not gleaned all Leopold’s secrets just yet, or else, he had simply chosen not to reveal it.  ‘You love her, don’t you?’ he asked.

‘Jessicah?  Of course I do,’ Samuel responded.  ‘As much as I can still feel love.  To me, she is as perfect as any person can be.  I know my vision is distorted, and that my feelings for her have no logical basis, but she was the only thing I cherished as a child that still survives.  She was the only one who had faith in me.  She saw me through the hard times after my family’s death.  She is my saviour, and I will be ever thankful that she exists.’

‘You’re not jealous of her and Captain Orrell?’ Leopold asked.

‘Not at all.  I am very glad.  She is my cousin, remember, Leopold.  Even if it is true that she is not my cousin in blood, she is my cousin up here.’  He tapped his head.  ‘I wish them all the best.  I could not think of a better man to court her.’

The statement irked Leopold.  Was he not a suitable enough man for her?  ‘And what about these two?’ Leopold asked, gesturing to the sleeping boy and old man on their bunks.  ‘Will they be coming with us, also?’

‘Not this time,’ Samuel said.  ‘Our party is already larger than I would prefer and those two pests are the last thing I need.  We could never cover up their oddities or keep them from roaming.  I am only putting up with Lady Wind’s company because I share her dislike for Empress Moon.’

‘Why is that?  It’s not like you to bear grudges.’

The magician missed the sarcasm in Leopold’s voice entirely.  ‘Suffice to say, long ago she hurt someone I cared for.’

‘I note our new Koian passengers have been having trouble getting their needs known to the crew.  Will you not enable everyone to understand what they say?  Can you not cast the same spell on the crew that you used on me?’

‘They will make do, Leopold.  I am purposefully keeping the women isolated from the crew.  These sailors are a lusty bunch at the best of times.  It would cause more trouble than it’s worth if they could suddenly communicate with our pretty guests.  When the time comes, those who need to speak with them, will.  Now, you need your rest.  I will leave you to sleep.’

‘What about you, Samuel?’ Leopold asked, shifting about, preparing to lie down once again.  ‘Don’t you ever rest?’

‘Of course I do.’  With that, the magician turned and quietly let himself out.  As his boot steps faded along the timber hall, the lock on Leopold’s door clicked quietly and slid itself back into place.

****

It would take them a few more days to reach the city and they crawled past Spring, the last of The Four Seasons, on an overcast afternoon.  It was the largest of the sacred islands, a rugged length of inhospitable mountains, sheer grey cliffs rising from the sea.

Instead of jungle, the island was covered with millions upon millions of seabirds.  Clouds of them wheeled in the air, following each other, crafting overlapping circles and spirals beneath the grey sky.  Every inch of cliff-face was pocked with their nests, the stone stained white beneath from countless seasons of their leavings spilling down.  The birds screamed and called in a deafening throng, diving down into the sea after fish and turning their stubby, black-and-white heads sideways as they hovered in the wind or floated on the waves, observing the Farstride and its crew with curiosity.

Phoenix knew the waters well and kept them on course.  From that point, the archipelago began in earnest, with dozens of small islands visible at any time, and apparently it would continue like that all the way to the coast.

The crew was pushed to the edge of madness by the overbearing humidity and the sudden torrential showers that dropped from sullen skies without warning and ceased just as quickly.  The water that fell was warm and gave no relief from the heat.  The crew had begun calling it ‘the bathwater of the gods’.

Thunder shook the heavens each afternoon and Leopold could not remember hearing anything so loud in his life.  There was little lightning to accompany it, as if even the clouds could not help but rumble and complain about the heat, letting out their interrupted downpours to emphasise the matter.  At least the rain did wash away the clammy sweat, and the crew smelled decidedly better—outdoors at least; beneath the decks the humidity was creating all sorts of unsavoury fragrances.

Men dripped with perspiration and most crew went shirtless as they saw to their duties.  There was little point in wearing clothes, for they became drenched with sweat in moments—sweat that would not evaporate and likewise did nothing to cool one down.

****

Leopold was bored as usual.  It had been a long time since he had bothered climbing amongst the sails.  He had learnt everything there was to learn and could work the ropes better than most of the crew—if he wished to.  With this heat, he certainly did not wish to exert himself and spent his time lying on his bed fanning himself and grumbling, praying that Samuel would not appear to set him to further meaningless chores.

About the only things that could rouse his interest enough to make him venture outside were when the thunder called (for he found its skybound rumbling fascinating), or when he thought he might have a chance of seeing the Koian women.  They had proved especially evasive—at Lady Wind’s direct instructions so he had heard—and made only fleeting appearances on deck.

On this occasion, boredom proved to be the deciding factor and, stalking outside, Leopold peered disdainfully at the swollen grey sky above and set about finding someone for a bout of swordplay.  He dreaded the weather, but he had come to dislike the monotony even more.

He finally found a man by the name of Ferl who, despite obviously despising practice with Leopold, put up with it without complaint, being the good Turian he was.  Furthermore, Ferl allowed Leopold to get the better of him, which made him one of Leopold’s favourites.

They dispensed with drills at Leopold’s insistence and went straight to duelling, batting their practice weapons together loudly upon the main deck.

Leopold drew off his shirt and tossed it aside, his lean body glistening with sweat.  The small crowd of onlookers cheered to see their Emperor getting the better of his partner, with poor Ferl pouring with perspiration in his hot uniform and looking decidedly uncomfortable.  While Commander Riggadardian was indifferent about the crew working bare chested, he would absolutely not permit his officers to do the same.

Ferl was obviously not in the best mood today and he struck Leopold on the back soundly as the young Emperor made a rather foolish lunging jab.  It enraged Leopold and he threw his sword down upon the deck, and swore aloud.  The men were quiet as he bent and retrieved his weapon.  Standing, Leopold glanced about to see if Captain Orrell was near, for the man would surely have disapproved.  He could almost hear the captain lecturing in his head, saying, ‘Leopold, you have nothing to prove!’  Damn it!  He did have something to prove.  He hated being beaten!

He stood straight and granted Ferl a deceitful smile, before rushing in with a quick volley of blows.  Ferl back-pedalled, worried by Leopold’s sudden burst of aggression, and finally darted out of the young Emperor’s reach.  Leopold was not about to be bettered and sallied again, this time landing a sharp blow to Ferl’s forearm, making the man dance aside, rubbing at it and looking greatly upset.

The crowd cheered again and Leopold bowed to them in response.  His brooding vanished.  He now felt greatly satisfied.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ he told the crowd, circling one hand to them in gracious appreciation.

Some feminine giggling from above caught his attention and Leopold glanced to the top of the aft deck.  A row of black-haired Koian damsels was looking down at him.

Now, Leopold could not help himself after this and began strutting around boldly.

‘It’s really quite a boiling afternoon, isn’t it, Your Majesty?’ Ferl said, trying to put an end to his misery.

‘Nothing out of the ordinary, Ferl.  We have a few more days of this weather yet to endure before we arrive.  Let’s have one more turn at it, and then I’ll let you have your rest.’

Leopold lashed out confidently, slapping his sword at the poor man as hard as he could, barking with each stroke.  It was all too much for Ferl, and perhaps the man yielded just to see an end to it all.  He turned his back and presented his Emperor with an irresistible target.  Leopold stepped in with a grin and gave him a great poke between the ribs with the tip of his sword.  Ferl yelped and dropped his weapon, and the crowd shouted victoriously.  Poor Ferl was left rubbing at the spot on his back and grimacing in discomfort.

‘Sorry.  I couldn’t help myself.  You left your defence wide open,’ Leopold told him with a lecturing tone.

‘Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,’ Ferl replied humbly, red in the face from the heat.  ‘Good win.  I think you’ve far surpassed my ability to teach you anything more.’

‘Nonsense, my man,’ Leopold told him.  ‘I enjoy sparring with you immensely.  I couldn’t do without you.’

He made sure his words carried loudly.  Glancing up, he could see flash of the Koian ladies’ smiles as they laughed and whispered excitedly to each other, no doubt impressed by his skills.  Such women would never have seen such prowess, trapped on their island as they were, and Turian swordplay was the most advanced of its kind.

An enthusiastic young crewman brought Leopold a jug of water and Leopold dropped his weapon while he gulped it down, then finished by pouring the remainder of it over his head to cool himself down.

The men cheered and laughed.  ‘Good show, Your Majesty!’ some called.  ‘Brilliant work, Your Highness!’ shouted others.

He retrieved his wooden baton and skipped up the three flights of stairs towards the top of the aftcastle.

‘Ladies!’ he called as he made the high decking, and the Koian woman turned to him, all smiles and whispers.  There were ten of them side by side, each seemingly more beautiful than the last as he feasted his eyes upon them.  ‘It’s good to see you out of your cabins.  Are you enjoying our hospitality?’  He was not sure if they could understand him, but his address caused even more excitement.  Still, none spoke in return.

One of them waggled her finger towards Leopold’s sword as she whispered in her friend’s ear.

‘Well,’ Leopold continued, granting them his best smile and swaggering about with his practice weapon resting on his shoulder, ‘I must admit I am still a student of the sword but I am glad you enjoyed the display.’

‘Oh, we did,’ one replied and Samuel’s magic did its job of letting him understand.

Leopold was glad to finally have some response.  It was the woman called Kali, and she leant casually against the railing behind her, a little more in the manner of a bar patron than with the proper posture such ladies should exhibit.  ‘We did not know an emperor could be so intimate with his men.  It is very informative and entertaining.  And this performance, playing with wooden sticks like children, what is its purpose?’

‘What’s that?’ Leopold asked, still grinning, not sure he had heard her correctly.  ‘Why … why it was swordplay,’ he stated hesitantly, trying to reaffirm his confidence.

‘Were you flailing your arms on purpose?’ she asked, but it was obvious from her tone that she was teasing him.  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth in mock surprise.  ‘Was it not all foolery?’

‘Oh dear,’ said Arrow beside her.  ‘In that case, your man is very gracious to put up with you.  He is your superior in every way, avoiding you as you stagger about like a drunken ox, allowing you to better him.’

Kali seemed eager to speak again.  ‘Your fellow took a beating just so he could be away from you.  Surely you knew, or did you not?’

Leopold felt the smile petrify on his face, then wilt and waft away.  ‘Oh.’  There was little else he could say.

‘We hope you are going to let your soldiers do all the fighting, Your Majesty,’ a third woman declared, ‘or we may be better off returning to our island.’

‘Well, of course,’ Leopold replied quite uncomfortably.  He forced his smile back into play, but he felt a sorry actor in a very amateurish theatre.  ‘Then I shall leave you ladies to enjoy the fine view.  Good day.’

They continued laughing as Leopold returned down the stairs.  He did his best to appear unworried by their remarks, but he was sure the men had taken notice.  Most turned their eyes to the deck or tapped their comrades on the arms to look away, rather than meet his gaze.  They could not understand what was said, but they knew what all the tittering and giggling was about; they could read their Emperor’s reaction.

Leopold returned to his room and put his feet up for a rest.  Those adorable women had given him a beating much worse than anything Captain Orrell could have served him—perhaps even the magician.  Yes ... much more than that.  Still, he was not about to form a grudge against them.  Better he quietly lick his wounds and perhaps pretend it never happened.  Yes, that would be the plan.

****

‘What do you want!’ Leopold roared.  He had worked in the galley all morning, dicing up endless volumes of preserved pork for the crew’s lunch, and his temper had reached its limit several bucketfuls ago.  The last thing he had the patience for was the magician standing in the doorway looking smug.

‘I heard of your run-in with the Koians.’

The ship’s cooks had fled, warned in whispers of Lord Samuel’s approach.

‘What of it?’ Leopold replied, not pausing from his work.  He hacked the next piece of flesh into misshapen lumps with his heavy cleaver.  Flecks of meat covered his shirt, but he did not care.  He would not clean himself until the whole unsavoury job was finished.  ‘Have you come to gloat?’

‘Truthfully, yes.’

‘Well, I’ve forgotten it already.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Samuel declared.  He wandered the galley, poking his nose into drawers.  ‘I hope you learned a thing or two.’

‘Which things are they?’ Leopold asked, pausing.

‘About your subjects, to be specific—the crew and most everyone aboard this ship.  You are their Emperor, Leopold.  They admire you, so they lie to you.  Turians would never dare tell you that you might be making a mistake, that you might be making a fool of yourself.  They convince themselves instead that everything you do is perfect, because of who you are.  And if you do make a mistake, they wipe it from their minds, or shift the blame elsewhere.  You cannot change that, Leopold—not in a hurry anyways—but you can understand it.  Your Empire will operate much more smoothly if you do.’

‘I understand,’ Leopold told him curtly.

‘Really?’ Samuel replied with a raised eyebrow.  ‘But I see preparing lunch hasn’t done a lot for your mood.’  He paused, and Leopold recommenced his chopping, waiting for the question he knew would follow.  ‘So ... have you had enough for today?’

There; it was said.

Leopold stopped, cleaver in hand.  He had been anticipating this moment and had prepared a careful reply.  ‘No, thank you.’  His voice was as restrained and patient as he could manage, conveying a pleasant tone.

‘What’s that?’ Samuel asked with disbelief.

‘I said “no”.  Lunch is not ready and I’ve much more to do before it is finished.’  Internally, the contented sound of his voice tortured him.

‘Remarkable, Leopold!’ the magician declared with pleasure.  ‘Very well.  Continue on.  Cut away!  And after that, given you are so keen, you can also help with dinner.’

Leopold could not believe his ears.  ‘I beg your pardon?’  All pretence fell away.

The magician’s smile broadened.  ‘I’m so happy, Leopold.  Work away.  I’m very pleased to see you enjoying yourself.’

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Leopold uttered hurriedly, placing down his knife.  ‘Every time you ask me if I’ve had enough, I say “yes”, and you make me work more.  This time, I say “no” and you still set me more.’

‘That’s right, Leopold.  Because I know you are lying.  You only say “no” because you think it’s what I want to hear.  It’s not, and even if it were, I’d wait for you to mean it.  You haven’t learnt the lesson yet, so you must keep working.’

‘So what is the blasted lesson!’ Leopold bellowed, unable to contain his frustration.

‘I’ll let you work it out,’ the magician replied, and with that he turned and slipped out the doorway.

The cooks came racing in from their hiding places, back to their benches and hurrying to catch up.

‘What are you looking at?’ Leopold roared at one of them who had dared to glance his way.

‘Nothing, Your Majesty!’ the man replied meekly.

Leopold picked up his cleaver and brought it down with a vengeance, burying its blade through the meat and into the table top.  How can I do it? he thought desperately.  How can I kill that infernal magician?

***

There was no way to approach The Heavenly City without being seen, so they brought the Farstride to a rest as near as they dared.  They sheltered amongst a cluster of jungle-covered islands that spotted the ocean amidst thousands of others—the sprawling edge of the archipelago that cluttered about the coast.

They saw several small fishing boats, but the vessels were devoured by the sea before they could race away, snatched down by some unseen hand.  No one asked if Lord Samuel was responsible—they did not need to.

Each time another small boat disappeared, crewmen looked towards the magician—perhaps seeking some sign of his involvement—but each time he was motionless, glaring seawards while his magic did its work.

Their landing party filled three of the longboats.  Captain Orrell was accompanied by six of his men.  Lady Wind brought Phoenix and seven of her countryfolk with her.  Leopold could not comprehend why the Koian women were included.  If there was any kind of trouble, it meant more helpless women to protect.

He sighed and shook his head at the sight of them.  At least some were remaining behind.  Daneel was charged with keeping his eye on them, keeping them out of sight of the crew and generally keeping them out of trouble.  Commander Riggadardian had the task of keeping his eye on Daneel.

One of the Koian women staying behind was the one called Kali, and she met Leopold’s efforts with scowls when he mistakenly tried to assist her into a boat.

‘I’m not coming, oaf!’

The tone of her voice had him quickly retreating.  He winced at her unrestrained disdain, but there was nothing he could do except climb into the boat and sit, while the preparations to launch were completed around him.  Kali watched the crew closely, suspiciously.

Despite her apparent concerns, the three boats were lowered safely and they commenced away immediately.  The crew gave them a subdued hurrah as a send-off, while Commander Riggadardian looked down over them, worried as he watched his Lady Wind depart.

They surreptitiously coursed towards the coast, using the islands for cover.  Leopold was worried they would never find their way back through the maze of channels.  Once the Farstride was out of sight, hidden behind the islands, he had no idea how to get back to her.

‘Why are we bringing them?’ Leopold asked the magician, casting his eye to the boatload of Koian women that led the way.

‘This is their nation, Leopold.  Let them fight their war as they see fit.  People benefit from participating in their own struggles.  Watch on.  You may learn something useful for your future as Emperor.’

‘Aren’t you worried they may be more trouble than they’re worth?’

‘Don’t worry, my young companion.  They will cause no trouble.  Who would dare harm such innocent, frail things?’

Leopold glanced sidelong at the magician, not sure how to interpret his words.  Was that a ghost of a smile on the man’s lips?  Whatever it was, it was gone, too fleeting to be fully discerned.  ‘And why are you not bringing your casket?’ he asked.  ‘Would it not be a good idea to bring it along in case it is needed.’

The magician did not move.  He scanned the misty rim of the mainland intently, moving only his eyes, searching the distance with his senses.  ‘It is safer back on the ship.  I would hope not to need it.  If I do, I can return to it quickly in a pinch.  I can’t go lugging it around the countryside with me wherever I go.  What sort of reputation would I get?’  With that, he openly granted Leopold one of his most disturbing grins, a smile painted on a puppet.

They met ground in a swampy marsh and Lady Wind directed them between the humps of dry land amongst the water.  A bridge was the first sign of solid land, marking a highway that crossed a narrowing of the canals.  They waited out of sight while Captain Orrell’s men camouflaged their boats using leaves and branches.  Once done, the vessels were indistinguishable from the gangly, grey trees and mud around them.

‘The Heavenly City is not far from here,’ Phoenix announced, ‘but this is an Eudan city now; they call it Bodhi; I have no idea what such a primitive word could mean.  Our people have all been murdered or made slaves.  Gatherings of Koians are forbidden.  We must split up and travel independently, posing as slaves on errands.  We have the documents prepared.’  One of the other women already had handfuls of papers readied in her hands.  ‘But you and your people are too obvious,’ she added, looking to the pale Amandians.  ‘We have prepared disguises … as beggars and vagrants.’  At that, her companions pulled some sack-like clothing from their satchels, ready for the Amandians to wear.  ‘We will apply dirt to your faces to complete the deception,’ she said in all seriousness.

Leopold scoffed aloud, attracting a venomous glare from the young woman, but thankfully, this time, the magician came to his support.

‘We have no time for that,’ Lord Samuel said with a dismissive wave of his hand.  ‘I will use my magic.  We will appear to be Eudans to their eyes, without all this fussing about.’  He wiggled his finger disdainfully at the sorry-looking disguises.  ‘I will not suffer scraping about on the street all day to pass by their guards.’

Phoenix took his statement for granted.  ‘Then do not spend your magic on us,’ Phoenix said.  ‘We will not submit to such evils upon us.  We will go as we are.  The Eudans will not allow their own women into the palace, but slaves are permitted for entertainment.  You can present us as gifts for Pradmet.  They are barbarians.  They treat their own women like dogs, and deceive them into believing they are content as such.  They treat their slaves even worse.’

‘Bind our hands and string us together,’ Lady Wind instructed.

‘Yes, it is even better than our first plan,’ Phoenix admitted, content as her companions laced each other together with rope produced from a satchel.

Why the women brought rope, Leopold could not guess, and wondered what else they carried, hidden away in the neat little bags they kept strung over their shoulders.

‘We are stronger as a group,’ Phoenix added.  ‘Leave the straw-haired woman likewise untouched by your spells.  Tie her with us.  She will make an appealing gift—an oddity.’

Jessicah could tell they were talking about her, but she looked confused as to what they were saying.

‘It is a good idea,’ another of the Koian women agreed.  Leopold had forgotten her name, but given her height she may have been Twilight.  ‘The best and rarest of slaves are often taken directly to the palace for the entertainment of the Eudan nobles.  It is good.’

Samuel did not object, and so it was decided.

‘Just follow their lead,’ Leopold told Jessicah.  ‘Act like a slave and don’t say anything.’

The women tied Jessicah’s hands, attaching her to the middle of their number.  The final woman to be fastened, Arrow, adeptly tied her own knots and pulled her bindings tight with her teeth.  Jessicah stood out starkly amongst the women, with her fair hair, pale skin and long Turian dress.

‘Let me speak for us,’ Lady Wind said.  ‘I aided their ambassadors in our court for many years before their treachery.  I know their protocols.’

‘There is no need, Lady,’ Samuel responded.  ‘I will take care of any obstacles we may meet.  Protocols will not be required.  Keep your papers tucked away.  Here,’ he said, handing Leopold the end of the women’s rope.  ‘Hold onto this.  Tow it gently, lest you want ten angry women behind you.’  He leaned closer.  ‘And I’ll give you a hint because I know how prone you are to ignoring my advice ... you don’t.’  They followed the highway to the south along the coast.  As promised, Samuel’s magic kept them from appearing anything out of the ordinary.

The Eudan occupiers were a different race to the Koians.  Their skin ranged from a light brown to coal black and they did not share the fine features of the Koians.  They more closely resembled Amandians in everything apart from their colour.

Eudan guards roamed the road on horseback, watching the party each time they passed, making note of the line of tied women in particular.  Some of them called to their fellows or barked questions at Leopold’s party, and Leopold was surprised when he understood them.  As before, he could feel it was a new language in his ear, but Samuel’s magic let him comprehend every word they said, and he felt sure that if he spoke, his Turian tongue would sprout Eudan words just as easily.

Many of the Eudan men went shirtless, with sandals and a light skirt common.  The soldiers wore similar skirts, with short, flat-ended swords slapping at their hips.  To Leopold it seemed incongruous that a man could wield a sword yet wear no shirt, but he supposed it was that or put up with the heat.  He would fling away half his own clothing if he could.

They saw only the occasional Eudan woman.  Unlike their men, the women wore plenty, dressed in brightly coloured wrap-around dresses.  Many of them donned an abundance of facial jewellery; multiple rings in their ears and noses, fine chains hung between them.

Eudan boys and girls ran and played in the open, staring at their group and laughing, pointing to Jessicah with excitement and following them down the road while singing.  Leopold almost wished he could not understand their bloodthirsty lyrics.  From the associated gestures and motions, the children fully understood what they meant.

They saw no Koian children.  Presumably they were all locked away or kept elsewhere out of sight.

Koian slaves worked the fields, watched over by their captors.  The occasional slave passed them on the road, pulled along by Eudan masters.

Few Koians travelled freely.  Those that did kept their eyes down and did not dare utter a whisper as they passed, only glancing sideways at what must resemble more slaves caught by Eudan oppressors.

Jessicah attracted direct stares from everyone.  Her white skin and foreign dress proved too strange to ignore for Eudan overlords and Koian slaves alike.

Whenever soldiers shouted at them, demanding to know who they were and where they were going, Samuel would send them away with a wave of his hand.  Leopold was amazed he was now using his magic freely, not hoarding it away and making their life difficult.  Otherwise, they would be trying to talk their way out of every such encounter.  It would have taken them forever to reach their goal.

****

The edge of The Heavenly City was no reflection of its name, looking sullen and grey.

A checkpoint marked the entrance.  Samuel paused briefly until the guards stepped aside and the group was given free passage to enter.

It seemed as if their luck was holding, that they would continue uninterrupted to the palace, until a gruff Eudan voice shouted above the city noise.  Merchants hid behind their stalls; the street emptied as common folk fled.  Leopold felt a nervous lump congeal in his throat.

‘Hold!’ the caller demanded, striding quickly to catch up.

‘It is a sorcerer!’ Phoenix hissed, peeping around enough to see, keeping her eyes hidden.

‘Before the invasion, we would not allow them to set foot on our lands,’ Lady Wind whispered to Samuel as the thin man approached.  ‘Be careful.  I cannot guess what they can do.’

‘Never mind,’ Samuel said and waited without concern.

The sorcerer was shirtless and his weighty, black skirt hung down in heavy strips to the ground, just above his sandalled toes.  His head was shaven bald and his forehead was tattooed with an unknown script in a thick ruby ink.  A silver ring pierced his nasal septum.  A scarlet sash, adorned with more inky incomprehensible symbols hung over his left shoulder, down past the opposite hip.

‘Where are you going?  Who are you?’ the man barked.

Samuel approached him.  ‘Fortunate tidings to you, oh wondrous master.  We come now from the Village of Swans, and we bring gifts for Pradmet.’  He curled his hand about and bowed deeply as he spoke, as was the Eudan way, much deeper than the Koian custom.

The response pleased the sorcerer.  ‘Where did you get that white one?’ he asked, pointing sharply to Jessicah.

‘A freak we found in the south,’ Samuel told him.  ‘She has lost the pigment in her skin, cast out from her village and family.  She is wild and uneducated, living with pigs until we discovered her.  We are taking her to the slave market.  Perhaps someone would pay something for such a beast; although she bites and makes a beastly mess.  Perhaps you would like to make a bid?’

The sorcerer scrutinised Jessicah intensely.  ‘I have no use for her.  Go on.’  He departed without awaiting a response, as if having somewhere else he urgently needed to be.

‘Pigs!’ Jessicah snorted in disgust once the man was out of earshot.

Leopold laughed, but Lord Samuel was not likewise amused.

‘I see Rei is keeping you abreast of the conversation,’ the magician noted to Jessicah.  ‘I’m glad she is not keeping you entirely in the dark.’

It stopped Leopold’s mirth.  He looked to see if Captain Orrell had overheard, but Samuel had used the Old Tongue to mask his words.

Jessicah looked set to reply, caught halfway between frustration and bewilderment.  Unsure of how to respond, she said nothing.

‘Lord Samuel,’ Lady Wind asked, not having overheard, ‘how is it you are familiar with Eudan greetings?’

‘I told the man what he was expecting to hear, showed him what he expected to see,’ was the magician’s response.

‘Was that what all their sorcerers look like?’ Leopold asked.

‘It is,’ Phoenix replied from behind.  ‘They each dress in that manner.  It is difficult to tell one from the other, much like you pale northern ghosts.’

Samuel grunted with displeasure and Leopold realised he was liking the moody Koian woman more and more all the time.

‘He was a magician of little consequence,’ Samuel added, ‘but still I could not subvert his mind to let us pass.  It was strangely difficult just to glean his most superficial thoughts.’

‘Perhaps you are getting rusty in your old age, Magician,’ Leopold suggested.

‘Watch your tongue, boy!’ Samuel retorted with a foul glance.  ‘Do not forget our pact so easily.  Just because you are growing comfortable with your role of Emperor does not mean you are too precious to haul over my knee and spank.’  Leopold could do nothing but accept the scolding and once done, the magician’s tone changed altogether, full of contemplation.  ‘It is his bracelet I am worried about.  Did you see it?’

Leopold shook his head.

‘All sorcerers wear them,’ Phoenix noted, listening in.

Samuel accepted the information with a nod.  ‘It is a relic from the time of the Ancients.  I have not seen its kind before.  Curious.  A defensive device perhaps, or a tool for communication.  I will have to do something about that.’

Leopold nodded, as if he understood what the magician was implying.

They moved along cautiously, scanning the crowds for danger.  The hubbub that filled the air was unintelligible—as with any crowd—but the occasional word flew free into Leopold’s ear; individual syllables bereft of context.

It made him wonder how they appeared, disguised as Eudans.  Looking at his own palm, the skin was unchanged.  He had an urge to find a mirror.

They continued along the hectic streets, pushing through the masses until they came to be outside a large stadium.  A commotion was issuing from inside.

‘Slavers,’ Phoenix mentioned, looking fierce.  ‘The auction has just begun.’

They passed by the cacophony at the gates, bustled from every direction, and kept on towards the palace.

There was no sign of Pradmet’s abode from where they stood.  It was not a mighty construction such as the palace of Cintar.  Its grounds were large, but the Koians kept their buildings to two or three storeys at most, with an occasional pagoda rising four or five storeys.  Without magic to aid them, the Koians had never developed the same architectural accomplishments as the Amandians.  Added to that, the years of warring and a lack of interest in upkeep on the part of the Eudans had resulted in much of the beauty of the city being destroyed.

A cough sounded from one of the Koian women, alerting them, and Leopold looked ahead.  Three olive-skinned Koian men stood in the middle of the street, narrow-eyed, bare chested and rippling with muscles.  They were not slaves, for they stood confidently, dominantly, observing the passing crowd with suspicion.  Behind them, two sorcerers lingered, heads shaved and tattooed, with identical dress to the first one they had seen.  Matching bracelets adorned their wrists.

‘Stay calm, Leopold,’ Samuel whispered, slowing to be beside him.  ‘No need to stare,’ and Leopold immediately averted his eyes, snapping his gaze to the ground.

One of the Koians tracked their approach, watching them with ferociousness on his face—not at all calm like his two companions.

Thankfully, they passed unhindered and turned right along the next street, leaving the intersection and its guardians behind.

‘What was that all about?’ Leopold asked with relief.

‘Koian warriors,’ Samuel said.  ‘Very fast and powerful fighters.’

‘Traitors!’ hissed Lady Wind.

‘They keep watch for their masters,’ Phoenix said, and spat onto the dirty street.  ‘The worthless dogs are not worthy of our pity.  See how fat and spoiled they have become!’

‘And the sorcerers, Samuel.  Did you see them?  They had bracelets, too!’

‘Yes, Leopold.  I saw.  Calm down.’

They came to a high, white wall and followed its mazelike twistings along a narrow street.  The alley opened up to an open square that marked the palace entrance.  A bridge crossed a narrow canal dug into the street.  A wide gateway waited across it, topped with decorative red woodwork.

Leopold thought there should be more guards, but only a handful manned the gate.  A few small groups milled about idly across the square.

Set in the middle of the area was the petrified husk of a beast, nailed to a pole—a monster, captured and killed, a demonstration to the people that Pradmet was keeping them safe.  Leopold had seen its kind before: a brutish thing, furred and horned.  Many had roamed the streets of Cintar.

‘We’re here,’ Orrell pointed out.

They crossed the short bridge and Samuel bade them wait while he approached a shaded pavilion and spoke to a guard.  The magician gestured towards them, then the soldier called aloud.  There was an echoing clank and the great gates parted.  Hinges moaned as the doors scraped inwards.

‘Let’s go,’ Lord Samuel suggested, leading the way.

An enormous courtyard lay within, a thousand paces square.  Steps at the far side led up to the palace buildings.

They crossed the vast, vacant space, paved with pale interlocking slabs of stone, forming giant swirls, patterns and images upon the ground.  There was not a soul in sight, and perhaps that should have been the giveaway, for they were no more than twenty strides past the gates before the reinforced barriers thudded shut behind them.  Spear-bearing Eudan guards streamed out from the gatehouses, pointing their weapons at the party to ensure they understood.

Thousands of armed men poured from openings along the walls, creating a thunderous noise as they lined the courtyard.  They wore elaborate chest plates and plumed helmets, spears in their hands.  The racket continued until the soldiers had finished jostling into position, leaving the stairs ahead vacant.

Orrell’s men drew their swords and readied.

‘Steady,’ Orrell told them, holding up a palm.

‘It looks like the only path left is forward,’ Lady Wind observed.

Samuel tread boldly forward and the others hurried after him.  Captain Orrell and his men eyed the armed soldiers warily.  Leopold followed, pulling the women after him, although the cord in his hand was slack.  He had made the mistake of tugging it tightly while traversing the city, and received baleful stares as result.  Phoenix could make a face that would sour milk and give children nightmares.

When they were halfway across the courtyard, a further stream of dark-skinned men came rushing out and lined the stairs, fully boxing them in.

Samuel sighed aloud and glanced wearily towards Lady Wind.  ‘Is all this absolutely necessary?’ he asked.

‘They are a people that enjoy ceremony,’ she replied.  ‘I expect the one called Pradmet wants to show us his full welcome before they kill us.’

From the foremost line of men, twenty barechested soldiers appeared, bearing swords like oversized daggers with the ends cut square, and they came running towards the party on their leather sandals, shouting and making their vicious intent apparent.

Leopold almost panicked, but he saw that Captain Orrell and his men had not flinched.  Samuel took action, striding ahead as if to greet the Eudans with a polite shake of his hand.

‘This is a show, Leopold,’ Captain Orrell said, slowly drawing his sword free, unconsciously adjusting its position in his hand.  ‘Act well.  We are being watched.  Our hosts seek to determine our strengths.  Now may be a good time for you to remember what swordplay you have learned.  And by that I mean fight only defensively and do nothing foolish.  Short, sharp actions, keeping close to me.  Your enemy will not fetch water or rub your shoulders when you command them.’

Leopold nodded, ignoring the sting in the captain’s comment, and drew his father’s sword, letting its steel glint brightly in the sun.  He felt the hilt firm in his hand.  The weight of the blade called the muscles in his wrist to play.  It no longer felt like a stranger to him, for he must have held it for a hundred hours at least, in practice or idling away the time in his cabin.  This was no wooden baton, no practice stick.  Its razor edge was death and dismemberment.  He only wondered how he would feel the first time he pierced another man’s flesh ... and what he would do when someone parted his?  Would he scream?  Would he curse?  Would he bravely swallow his tears?  He had no idea.

His left hand still gripped the tether that held the women.  He turned to them, and only Jessicah looked afraid, watching Samuel anxiously.  The others waited undaunted, unshaken, and Lady Wind looked most ferocious of all despite her aging years.

Leopold expected Samuel to blast the Eudans to smithereens, but as the score of charging swordsmen fell upon him, the magician raised one hand and clamped hold of the nearest Eudan by the neck.  His other hand snatched the sharpened end of the Eudan’s blade, while the man’s legs flailed around beneath him.  The weapon snapped with a twist of Samuel’s fist.  He slapped the soldier in the chest with the flat of a palm, sending the fellow tumbling backwards across the stony floor.  Samuel made no attempt to catch the other men and after witnessing that, they gave the magician a wide berth, circling wide around him and heading for the others.  The magician turned silently, watching.

As they neared, Captain Orrell gave a quick shout, as if to spur a horse into a canter, and his team strode forth to meet the enemy, not hurried, but taking careful, measured steps.

‘Stay with me,’ Orrell said to Leopold.  ‘We will protect the women.’

The Eudans looked brutal and savage, screaming as they came, but Orrell’s well-trained men made short work of them, even outnumbered three to one as they were.  Each Turian soldier was an elite, trained for years under Captain Orrell’s expert tutorage, worth five or more average men.  They overwhelmed the Eudan soldiers, who found their weapons being struck from their hands, their poorly executed attacks deflected and turned back against them.  They were no match for these strange other Eudans who wielded such long, pointed swords.

Samuel stood patiently, waiting for the battle to end.  The single Eudan he had thrown to the ground had foolishly regained his feet and now came running at Samuel’s back with a drawn dagger.  One cracking punch to the man’s skull, sent out by the magician without looking, sent him back to the paving stones, and he stirred no further.

‘How did he learn our ways?’ Phoenix asked of Lady Wind, sounding none too pleased.  ‘It is intolerable!’

‘Do not underestimate him,’ came the response.  ‘He can learn many things simply from observation.  He and the warrior Horse were close for a short time; time enough for the magician to learn much.  The rest, he evidently taught himself.’

‘Horse?’  Phoenix uttered the name with awe.  ‘I only ever heard the legend.  What end did he meet?’

‘He was the last to fall, protecting our god to the end.’

‘Ah,’ Phoenix replied with a satisfied nodding of her head.

With the twenty Eudans defeated and not one of the Turians bearing the slightest of scratches, the line of soldiers guarding the palace steps parted again and twenty more combatants stepped into view.  These had the air of more seasoned warriors, for they approached cautiously.  Some wore bronzed chestplates or held shields.  They carried an assortment of weapons—spears, swords, axes and daggers.

Orrell’s men this time stood their ground, again leaving Samuel away by himself.  These new warriors presented more of a threat, and as they neared, the magician sprang to life, transitioning from a stationary, vulnerable target to a black whirlwind of punishment in the blink of an eye.  He incapacitated three of the Eudans before they could react.  He leapt amongst them, showering those nearest with debilitating attacks, while the others darted aside to be away from him, like scolded children fleeing a beating.

Leopold was flabbergasted.  He had no idea the magician was also a capable fighter—a weapon of fists and feet.

‘Why does he soften his blows?’ Phoenix asked.

Looking closely, Leopold could see the truth in her words, the magician took great pains not to kill the men, opening his palm and slapping them, pushing them off-balance rather than killing them.  Apart from the occasional split lip, there was no blood to be seen.

In direct contrast, Orrell’s men were ripping the Eudans open with their swords, holding nothing back.  Blood splattered free across the paving stones of the courtyard, flowing in scarlet rivulets, following the grooves in the stones.

‘I do not know,’ was Lady Wind’s hushed response.

None of the enemy set foot near the women, and Leopold and the captain were left with their swords ready but as yet unused.

Leopold thanked his lucky stars, for he was beginning to feel sick from his nerves and his sword hand was now shaking.  The tip of his weapon felt strangely weighed down—heavier than was natural, as if a stone had been hung from the end on an invisible string—but there was nothing to blame except anxiety.  All his practice now seemed to count for nought, and he kept thinking of the time with Jessicah upon the Mage Tower in Cintar, when his nerves had failed him altogether.  He dreaded it happening again.

Let me be strong, he thought to himself.  Am I the Emperor or not?  Whatever old gods there may be, do not let me fail.  Not in front of everyone!

As the last Eudan fell writhing to the ground, one of Orrell’s men shoved his sword in to quiet the man’s screams, and the courtyard returned to silence.  Several soldiers darted forward from the front line and grabbed their wounded, watching Samuel nervously all the while, dragging their fellows back behind the wall of spears.

For several minutes, nothing happened.  The thousands of spear-bearing soldiers that lined the courtyard stood absolutely stiff and motionless, leaving Leopold wondering what was next.  Orrell and his men waited patiently, scanning the enemy for any sign of further attack.  As always, Samuel remained perfectly still, any hint as to his intentions hidden within his dark cowl.

It was the sound of clapping that broke the stalemate and all eyes in the party went to the palace steps.  A figure stepped into view to address them.

‘Wonderful!’ the man called, waving his hand towards the carnage.  He wore a simple white shirt, devoid of buttons or clasps or detail of any kind,  but his pants were exorbitant purple marvels, sprouting out from his waist and pulling tight again around his ankles.  A plumed hat of a matching colour topped his head.  It was ridiculously tall, set with peacock feathers and other spectacular plumage.  ‘Come!  Come, strangers, and speak with me.  I will grant you an audience.  Such a splendid performance demands that at the very least and I would see what has brought such capable warriors to my door.’

That said, the man turned and was swallowed into his troops.  Only his feathers remained visible, bobbing in time with his stride, until he reappeared upon the stairs.

‘Pradmet?’ Lady Wind asked of Phoenix and the young woman nodded firmly in response.

Samuel strode after Pradmet without delay.  The others followed, with Orrell’s team sheathing their swords and stepping over the bodies of the dead.  The cord was pulled from Leopold’s hand as the women left him behind, and he scrambled after them to retrieve it, intent on maintaining his role of tether-holder.

The guards parted and granted access to the stairs.  Wide eyes on dark faces followed them as they passed.  Once upon the steps, the soldiers folded in tightly behind them, their weapons clanking in time to their shuffling feet.

The first building at the top of the stairs was a hall of pillars, lined with ponds and bridges and tiny exquisite miniature gardens.

‘The Harmony Chamber,’ Lady Wind told them, acting as their guide.  ‘Its purpose is to quench any disruptive thoughts from those who enter, and allow only harmonious energies past this point.’

‘It didn’t do such a good job of keeping the Eudans out,’ Leopold noted, which attracted a foul glance from the ever-simmering Phoenix.

‘Come!  Come!’ called Pradmet, with several guards at his side to be sure his visitors did not follow too closely.

Now they were closer, more of his features were apparent.  He was shorter than average, chocolate of skin and remarkably thin, exacerbating the size of his ridiculous pants.  He was in his sixties, with a host of dark blotches and spots across his weathered hide.  ‘I am intrigued to see what has brought you here.  You are not the first of my people to attempt my murder, of course, but you are certainly the best so far.  One of you has learned the Koian way, which astounds me, and you others fight in a manner unlike any I have seen.  Where did you obtain such swords?  I am keen to find out who and what you are.  Prithamon tells me there is much more to you than meets the eye.’

At that, Leopold was again reminded of their Eudan disguise.

The hall ended and they were once more in the open air.  The design of the palace was of numerous, distinct buildings separated by courtyards and gardens.  Such a layout allowed air to move freely into the rooms, an attempt to cater for the miserable heat.

Ahead lay another set of stairs, ranked by grand and opulent marble carvings set on pedestals—lions and bulls and beasts of the imagination, curling winged serpents with clawed feet, and humanoid figures with bestial heads.

These stairs were narrower than the last, allowing five abreast to ascend.  At the top was another building, its entrance carved with more splendid decorations.  Within the entrance, they found the rooms tall and draughty.  The smell of smoke from burners was strong in the air, and the walls were stained black from their use.  The Eudans displayed little interest in maintaining the place.  Much of the paint was faded and many of the walls were scuffed and chipped.

The Koians, lacking the assistance of magic, kept their constructions to simple designs.  The rooms were not as impressive as the great palace of Cintar, but the Koians had done their best to counter that with artistry.  Every wall and rooftop was exquisitely carved and embellished, with spires and motifs and statues in every direction.

Again they exited into sunlight and followed a gravel path, arriving at the largest and highest building within the grounds.  Judging from the thick stone walls and reinforced doors, this was the inner keep.  In stark contrast to the rest of the complex, this structure was purely functional.  Their host led the way inside.

The room was blatantly empty.  Footsteps and voices echoed between the sheer walls.  Balconies were set halfway to the ceiling, with no obvious way to reach them.

‘Please wait while I prepare to receive you,’ Pradmet told them and he vanished through the opposite exit.  His guards remained behind, waiting patiently in the doorway.

Lady Wind’s eyes carefully roamed the ceiling.

‘A murder room,’ Captain Orrell informed.

‘What is that?’ Leopold asked with concern, for the words sounded ominous.

‘It’s the final defence before reaching the inner sanctum, where the king or lord would make his last stand.  Fortified doors, no hiding spots.  See?  The defenders would attack us from up there.’  He pointed to the balconies that ringed the room.  ‘There is no way for us to reach them, and we are stuck in the open without cover.  It’s quite primitive, but they’ve made a decent effort of it.  There are some murder holes beside the inner door for firing arrows or thrusting spears, and there—some grates in the ceiling for pouring boiling tar or oil.’  He sniffed.  ‘And the oil is being warmed as we speak.  Let’s hope it is only a precautionary measure.’

A notable fellow stepped into the space that Pradmet had prior vacated.  His head was shaved, similar to the sorcerers but, unlike them, he wore a brilliant, long sleeved shirt of blood red material.  It draped down past his knees, almost to the point of being a dress, with matching trousers pulling tight at his ankles.  The material shimmered and caught the light so it was difficult to see where shirt ended and trousers began.  His feet were bare.  His hands were clasped in front of him in a gentle manner, protruding from the folds of his sleeves.  His eyes were gleaming and wild.

‘Leave your warriors here,’ the man instructed from the doorway.  His voice was grating, sounding like one whose throat was internally scarred.  His skin was smooth and black as coal, a striking contrast against the red of his clothing.  ‘Pradmet would not have such dangerous things in his presence.  Come, you,’ he said, nodding towards Samuel, his fingers still interlocked in front of him.

Samuel’s eyes turned to Leopold and Leopold immediately knew what that meant.  He dropped his leash and came obediently to the magician’s side.

‘He should also remain,’ said the bald Eudan with disdain.

‘He comes, sorcerer,’ Samuel stated, leaving no doubt in the matter.

The man shrugged and turned down the narrow hall.  It was only then, as the man moved, that Leopold caught a glimpse of his wrists, no bracelet upon them.

Samuel followed the sorcerer into the hallway, but Leopold paused at the threshold, eyeing the narrow slits that pocked the walls, wondering if spears would stab him to death the moment he entered within.

It’s all very good for him, he thought to himself.  With a sigh he hurried nervously after the magician’s back.

‘This is the one to watch, Leopold,’ Samuel said softly, nodding towards the man that led them.  The sorcerer’s feet trod gently, unhurriedly on the smooth floor.

‘Why is that?  He is not even wearing a bracelet.’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel said.  ‘Which makes me think—of all the sorcerers we have seen so far, why is he the only one?  No ... judging from his manner and outspoken costume, I’d wager he is their leader or a superior of some description; although, the magic about him is not particularly noteworthy.  Strange ... I sense something he is hiding; a relic of another kind.  This one definitely deserves my full attention.’

The hallway opened into a large throne room, and Leopold’s first thought was that it was very ordinary compared to what he had seen in Cintar—even gutted and in a state of ruin as Cintar had been.  At one time this place may have been more decorated, but it had been stripped of all adornments.  Tables dominated the room, piled with papers and documents, laid out in an orderly fashion.

Pradmet, having removed his ceremonial hat,  now looked much less pompous.  His hair was black, showing no signs of the grey, but thinning so as to reveal his scalp in patches.  If not for the remarkable length of it there would not have been much of it to cover his head.  Currently, it was rolled up and bound on top, with a short brown needle of wood thrust through its centre to keep it in place.

He indicated they should sit opposite at his desk—one almost devoid of paperwork—perhaps keeping it between them for his own safety.  He greeted them with a smile and slouched in his chair, but wasted no time in getting to business.

Samuel sat, scrutinising the table closely, momentarily cautious.

Pradmet picked up a writing implement from his desk—not a quill, but something simpler and tidier in design—and pointed it at them as he spoke.

‘No matter how many years I remain here, I cannot get used to this unbearable heat.  I would slaughter every Koian and boil their blood for almighty Karva if I thought it would help even one tiny bit.’  He sighed before continuing, gazing directly at Samuel.  ‘So, let’s get this over quickly so I can return to my work.  Who—and what—are you?  You fight like a Koian warrior, but until now no Eudan has ever learned their ways.  No Koian has ever parted with a single secret, even when tortured or their families flayed before them.

‘Prithamon tells me you have the air of a sorcerer about you, but you have used no magic spells.  Instead, you fight with your bare hands.  I find all this unusually compelling.  And that is before we even get to your companions.  Tell me, where did you find the Amandian woman that accompanies you?  And who is this young lord by your side, kept safely at the rear while the others do the fighting?’  He turned his attention to Leopold.  ‘Or are you the one I should be addressing?  Perhaps your friend here is only the hired help?  How am I to tell who is the master and who is the servant?’

Prithamon hovered at Pradmet’s left shoulder, far enough not to seem incumbent on the conversation, but near enough to leap to Pradmet’s aid.  There were enough guards in the room to let them know their leader was not defenceless, but Leopold suspected many more might be hiding in waiting in the adjoining side chambers he knew must exist.  Surely the room would have more than one entrance, and if it was indeed the sanctuary of last resort, there must be a secret escape route hidden somewhere.

‘You can speak with me,’ Samuel stated and Pradmet’s eyes swivelled back to meet him.  ‘We are not from here and we are also not from Euda.  I am no Koian warrior and I am also no petty sorcerer.  You will soon learn who I am, but first, I must say I am not impressed with the reception we have received so far.  You have the look of a gentleman, but you neglected to offer a gentleman’s greeting, and saw fit to test us instead.  Where are your manners, Pradmet?  What kind of welcome was this?’

Pradmet raised an eyebrow, finding interest in the magician’s words.  He glanced towards the guards, before returning his attention to his guests.

‘Gentlemen should be gentle.  Also humble and mannerly,’ he told the magician in return.  ‘I tested you because you came to my door under false pretences.  A guest with noble intentions would not conceal his true nature.  I apologise for the brusque greeting,’ he said solemnly, ‘but these are dangerous times.’

‘You still remember the key words, Pradmet,’ Samuel responded, ‘but they are rusty on your tongue.  You pepper your language with half-forgotten protocols, while laying claim to the highest position in the land.  It is very unusual for one of the clan.’

Leopold understood not a word of what the magician was going on about, but Pradmet drew himself up straight in his seat, alert.

He called to his guards, ‘Leave us!’ and the men moved from the room without hesitation, marching through doors behind freestanding screens, confirming Leopold’s assumptions of other entrances.  ‘You, too!’ he said, twisting in his seat to address the sorcerer.

The red-robed man bent in half and curled his hand in circles before returning upright and striding away after the guards, his emotions concealed behind a mien of calm.

When the three seated at his desk were alone, Pradmet threw his pen upon the table.  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.  ‘What does the Circle want now, after abandoning us for so many years?  Why should I even speak with you and not have you executed?  I would only have to snap my fingers and the both of you would be dead before you knew it.  I—I could have you both cut into twenty pieces for daring to show your faces here!  This is an affront!’

The magician waited patiently throughout Pradmet’s tirade, showing not the slightest movement or emotion on his face.  As the silence that followed extended, the skin beside Pradmet’s right eye began to twitch, and he looked between Samuel and Leopold nervously.

‘The Circle put you here, young Pradmet,’ Lord Samuel said finally, breaking the pause when satisfied the Eudan leader had fidgeted enough.  ‘Don’t presume you came to this station unaided or that you can do any of the things you threaten against us.  You may find yourself quickly regretting any ill-conceived words, so I advise you to use your judgement wisely before opening your mouth again.  The Darkening changed many things and contact with many lands was lost, but now ... the time is right.  I have come to see what has been happening since the chain was broken—to determine if the Circle has remained steadfast.  I see it has not, and I cannot help but feel disappointed.’

‘The Darkening was nothing—a few storms and harsh winters for us in Euda,’ Pradmet said dismissively.  ‘It was nothing compared to what followed.  Now, how I long for such winters again.  I would kill for a cool wind or a frosty morning!  But it was not the Darkening that caused us to flee.  I barely escaped Euda with my life.  I lost my family and all my possessions.  My wife and children were all slain!  Tens of thousands were lost in the first day of that catastrophe alone.  Why did you abandon us?  Where is Krunal?’

‘Krunal?’ Samuel asked.  ‘Ah, I see him now.  I know him as Lomar—Poltamir’s errand boy.  How long has it been since he last visited you?’

‘Not since he left us with that beast!  He created a monster in Trithi and set it upon us.  It devoured everyone without mercy, and made the survivors its slaves.  As many as possible took flight, and we quickly abandoned hope for those left behind.  Euda is lost.  We cannot near it without fear of being overcome.  Now, even nightmarish beasts pester us here and we only have Prithamon and his followers to keep us safe.  How could you not know all this?’

‘As I said, contact has been difficult in recent years.  I come from Amandia in the north, where the Darkening has only recently subsided.  No one has escaped from Euda to bring me the news, so the situation must indeed be as grim as you imply.  I will look into it in good time, but my immediate concern is the affairs here in Koia.  I must say I am disturbed that you have appointed yourself as Emperor of this land.  It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.’

‘I am no such thing!’ Pradmet said quickly, defensively.  ‘I am simply its administrator.  I maintain order and govern by the traditions of our people.  There was no one else fit for the task.’

‘You make all the decisions, Pradmet.  You are the ruler.  It is not fitting for one of the Circle,’ Samuel told him assuredly.  ‘Our way has always been to watch from the shadows.  You should have put someone else in the role and guided their decisions covertly.’

A patch of skin on Pradmet’s neck was mottled pink and it stretched as he sneered at them.  The gums in his mouth were similarly discoloured and grey—like an old hound’s.

‘What good is all that if the Circle is broken?  We had no word for so long.  Besides, it is pointless to whisper and nudge from the sidelines; I spent all my life doing that and it got me nowhere.  During our exodus from Euda all my superiors perished.  I took command and saved us all.  If not for me, the Koians would have forced us to retreat back into the ocean—to our doom.’

Samuel observed the Eudan gravely.  ‘Tell me: where are the Koian members of the Circle?  Surely you did not eliminate them?’

‘No.  I would not,’ Pradmet corrected quickly.  ‘I am not that foolish.  Of course, many Circle agents were lost in the years of the war, but those who still lived when I arrived have been made trustees, or now pose as slaves for fellow Eudans I wish to observe.’

Samuel absorbed the words without reaction.  ‘And the temple?  Where is the Temple of Shadows?’

‘The temple?  Why do you seek it?’ Pradmet asked skittishly.

‘I seek the relics.  I seek the library ... of course.’

‘It was all burned,’ Pradmet asserted.  ‘All the books and tomes were lost long before I came, the relics stolen away or destroyed in the turmoil.  The Koians turned upon themselves.  I am sure their empress was intent on killing her people herself, rather than allowing us to capture their city.’

‘Then that is unfortunate,’ Samuel stated.  ‘Things here appear dismal, Pradmet.  I wonder more and more if you are worthy of membership in the Circle at all.  I think a donkey may have done a better job in your place.’

Pradmet clenched his jaw and shook with barely contained temper.  ‘Who are you?’ he hissed, leaning across his desk and pointing his finger at the magician, regaining his courage as his anger flared.  ‘Why should I believe anything you say?  I am not about to give up anything on your say so.  What authority do you have?  What gives you the right to come here unwelcomed and challenging me?’

Samuel waved his hand and Pradmet sat back with a gasp.  At first, Leopold could not fathom why, but then he judged from Pradmet’s reaction what had happened.  Samuel had dropped his disguise—now revealed to be a pale Amandian in black magician’s robes.

‘I have the greatest authority,’ Samuel stated.  ‘I give myself the right.  I am the Axel, the Yoke and the Wheel,’ he growled.  ‘I am the First and the Last.  I am the Chain of Servitude that binds us all.  With Cang dead, I am the Circle and I shall rebuild it link by link with the hammer of my will—with or without you.’

‘Cang is dead?’ Pradmet stammered fearfully, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  ‘What happened to him?  I only saw him once, but I heard—’

‘I killed him,’ Samuel responded, cutting him off.

Pradmet froze with fear.  ‘Wh—what do you want me to do?’ he asked, the blood draining from his face.

‘Kill all your sorcerers—at once and without restraint,’ Samuel went on, without regard for Pradmet’s suddenly faltering state.  ‘Every one must be immediately slain.  Every hint of magic in your people must be purged.  There must be a decisive and total offence against your sorcerers and magic of any kind until all have been destroyed.  I expect to be shown the Temple and I expect all those lost items to be found quickly and brought to me, so I can see to their destruction myself.’

‘But—but why?’ the man asked, flabbergasted by the prospect of it all.  ‘How can we live without our sorcerers, without their magic?  Demonic fiends haunt the lands and spears alone will not keep them at bay.  Prithamon is all that protects us.’

‘If my future plans are successful, the fiends will vanish soon enough.  Begin at once.  If I am happy with your work I will go to Euda and investigate your claims there.  I will take care of this beast you mentioned and then you can return home.’

‘Yes!’ Pradmet voiced with enthusiasm.  ‘If you would do that, I can leave this accursed land.  There is never a cool night here and I am going mad from it!  Mist on the grass!  Rain that is not steaming as it falls!’

‘I care not what you do, as long as you meet my wishes,’ Samuel stated plainly.  ‘Spread the word amongst the Circle—if you can.  Begin your work.  You seem capable of that at least.  I will not interfere as long as you get the job done.  If you do not, you will lose more than just your position.  I have no particular need of you, Pradmet—only someone who can do what I say.  Now, I will take my party and I will return tomorrow to inspect the results.  You have until then to commence execution of my commands.  If I find they are not being met to my expectations, I will be very unhappy.  If I am not making myself clear, that means I will kill you.’

‘Y-yes,’ stammered Pradmet, devastated by the thought.

Samuel pushed back his chair and they left Pradmet without farewell.  Leopold hurried after the magician and they returned down the hallway from where they had come.

‘Is it wise to get him so worked up, Lord Samuel?’ Leopold asked.  ‘You could have used a little more tact.’

‘Perhaps not wise, Leopold, but I am in a hurry.  It will force him to make a choice now, rather than dither about all day trying to make up his mind.  If he decides poorly, I suspect we will shortly find out.’

‘But what about the Koians?  Won’t you help them?  Won’t you free their Empress Moon?’

‘I will not.  I will let Lady Wind take care of her own affairs.  All I want is the Temple.  That will be trouble enough.  I suspect it will not be handed over as simply as I wish.  Pradmet is not in command here.  He may think he is, but someone else definitely does not want me to find it.’

‘Who?’ Leopold asked with interest.

‘We will find out.  Pradmet’s mind was shielded from my efforts to view it.  It was a capable effort.  I gleaned very little from him, and only when he was upset.’

‘Prithamon?’

‘Or another we have not yet encountered.’

‘Could he be even stronger than you?  I mean, if you could not get past his spell ...’

The suggestion was an insult.  ‘Even a simpleton can jam his finger in a keyhole to stop someone peering through it, Leopold.  That does not make them stronger, or wiser.’

‘But even a simpleton can remove said finger with a pin,’ Leopold replied, smug.  ‘A wise man would surely think of that.’

The magician glared.  ‘Enough of your feeble wisdom, boy.  I’m always right.  Get used to it.’

They returned to the murder room, where everyone was waiting patiently.  The women were still roped in a line, hesitant to shed their disguise as slaves.

‘What happened?’ Orrell asked, hurrying over to meet them.

‘We can leave,’ Samuel said in response.

‘What do you mean?’ Lady Wind asked, still tied amongst the others.  ‘What did you do?  Did you kill him?’

‘Even if I killed him, the true leader would simply place another pawn into power.  Let us go.  I’m sure you have much of the information you need about their defences.  You can organise your rebellion at your leisure.’  He glanced towards the empty balcony above them, as if in expectation that something might appear at any moment.

‘We will not leave!’ Phoenix hissed, before restraining her voice.  ‘We came here to kill that tyrant, and we will!  This is our best chance.  He is only beyond the entry hall.  We can reach him quickly and easily if we act now!  Our losses will be slight.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel said.  ‘If that is what you wish.  I am leaving.  You can stay and do as you please.’

A groan of steel was the only warning as the thick doors that led to the throne room clanged shut.  The main door followed, sealing them in with a resounding boom.  Orrell’s men drew their swords instinctively.

‘Well,’ Samuel said.  ‘It looks like someone has indeed chosen poorly, deciding to test my threats.  Very well.’  He eyed Phoenix squarely.  ‘It looks like you will have your chance to kill Pradmet, should you live through this.’

A shuffling sounded from above them as Eudan soldiers rushed out to line the balcony along all four walls of the room.  Each carried a loaded crossbow—each bolt capable of punching through the stoutest of armour at such short range—and they pointed their weapons menacingly.  There was little delay.  A command was called and the crossbowmen opened fire.

Leopold could not follow what happened next.  He heard the clatter of mechanisms releasing and, immediately after, a rapid series of thuds.  Remarkably, wonderfully, he did not die.

He swallowed twice, collecting himself enough to realise he was still alive.  His mind rolled back, feverishly shoving events into correct order, witnessing the missiles launching, turning aside in mid-air and burying themselves into the walls.

Feathered shafts protruded from the stonework like dark hairs.  Chunks of bleached mortar had sprayed out and now littered the floor around their feet.

Leopold felt panic overcoming him, but everyone else remained calm.  Jessicah watched anxiously, straining at her bonds, while Leopold was still trying to determine if he had any bolts protruding from him.

The crossbowmen now ducked behind cover to re-tension their weapons, quickly replaced by swordsmen.  They climbed over the side barrier and dropped from the balcony, landing heavily on the lower floor.  Orrell’s men did not waste time watching, as did Leopold, and darted in and killed as many as they could before the Eudans raised their swords.  Many were slain, but more kept coming, emerging from hidden doorways around the balcony and dropping wherever they saw opportunity.  Steel rang on steel and Eudans wailed.

The party was forced to gather in the centre of the room.  They had no wall to put at their backs, such was the intention of the room.

Leopold readied his father’s blade and took an unsure step, but Lord Samuel’s hand held him firmly by the back of his shirt.

‘Stand still,’ the magician told him.

One of the crossbowmen opened fire and a bolt hammered down beside Leopold’s foot.  Leopold passed Samuel a wild and questioning expression, for another step forward and he would have been killed; but the magician was stone-faced, busy watching the battle unfold.

‘Watch out!’ Leopold warned, for Orrell’s elite had been drawn to one side of the chamber.  The women, tied and bound, were unprotected, Eudans dropping beside them.  He tried to rush to their aid, but again the magician’s grip remained firm.

He could only watch as the Eudans closed in upon the helpless women, yelling with bloodlust and raising their square-ended blades.  He thought it would be their end, that he would be forced to witness them hacked to death.  He struggled and wailed, pointing out the threat that everyone else was ignoring.

The Koian women, however, were far from helpless and far from unprepared.  As the Eudan blades descended, the women snapped their bonds with a single flick of each of their wrists, simultaneously, as if prompted by some invisible signal.  Leopold was sure the rope had been sound and the knots tight—he had tested them himself.  It did not seem possible they could break free so easily.  Only Jessicah and Lady Wind were left standing flat-footed, with Jessicah staring at the frayed rope dangling from her wrists, sharing Leopold’s surprise.  Lady Wind was calm, observing with satisfaction.

The eight young Koian women exploded from their bindings, leaping into the faces of the Eudans and striking them with their bare hands.  They were incredible, lightning released from a bottle, and they commenced felling Eudan swordsmen with bone-shattering fury.  Fear blossomed across the Eudans’ faces as they realised what had been unleashed.

‘They are Koian warriors from the mountains, Leopold,’ the magician explained, responding to the young Emperor’s hanging jaw.  ‘They do not need any help from us.  They can protect themselves and Jessicah and Lady Wind, and probably Captain Orrell and his men, too, if need be.  You just have to worry about staying with me and keeping out of trouble.  Don’t go swinging that sword around and taking your eye out.  I am too busy to mother you, so stay close.’

Crossbow bolts continued to fly, accompanied by the sudden clank of the weapons that launched them.  Each missile struck an invisible barrier before it could near, spinning end-over-end to the ground.  The room was full of shouts and the blare of battle, the screams of agony as swords entered flesh.  Only the Koian women fought quietly, only the sound of their breath moving in and out, gliding like dancers amongst the chaos, ducking and turning effortlessly amidst the fray, letting each man they touched drop to the floor as if swooning from their beauty.

The air in the room, hot already, filled with the heat and smells of battle.  The stench of something vile wafted from the grating above them, and Leopold half-expected boiling oil to rain down.  Samuel also looked up, and a clatter sounded from out of sight, followed by screams.  The magician lowered his gaze once again, without hurry, and that seemed to end the prospect of that.

‘Why don’t you just kill them all?’ Leopold asked, aghast as the carnage waged on.  ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘There is more happening here than you can judge with your dim-witted eyes, Leopold,’ the magician replied.  ‘Their sorcerers attack and I am doing my best to keep them busy while stopping us from being boiled or skewed or slain in a dozen different ways.  I am also hoping to draw out whoever is in command.  I would like to see you try to do ten things at once, Leopold, perhaps even one thing properly.  Now stop nattering so I can concentrate.’

There was a metallic ringing of steel as the last Eudan amongst them dropped his butt-ended sword and slumped dead to the floor.  The Eudans ceased sending down more men, granting them some respite.

Perhaps thirty of the dark-skinned men lay dead, covering the floor, while only one of Orrell’s men was injured, nursing a gash on his sword arm.

‘Amateurs!’ Captain Orrell declared, wet with sweat, blood sprayed across his face.  He cleared his throat and spat on the floor.

‘Damn them!’ came a shout from above—the voice of Pradmet—and a flash of white cloth could be briefly seen as he escaped back out of view.  ‘Kill them quickly!  Kill the magician first!’

From the unseen doors at the ends of the balcony, more men appeared.  This time they were unarmed, olive-skinned Koians.  Leopold recognised three of them from the street, including the wild-eyed one.  The rest looked nearly as mean, muscled and determined to commit violence.  They leapt out far from the balcony—not dropping themselves gingerly like the Eudan men—and landed amongst the Koian women as light as feathers, readied for battle, as if vaulting down from such a height was child’s play.

The Koian women put their backs to each other with Lady Wind and Jessicah at their middle, and they held their fists readied, their knuckles white, their faces fierce and defiant.

Leopold shuddered to think he may have insulted the women earlier and ended up like one of these Eudans broken on the floor.  He had probably escaped quite lightly with only the bruising to his ego.  No wonder they found his swordsmanship laughable.

For an instant, the Koian warrior men and younger women faced off against each other.  Then, together, they leapt into motion.

The men stepped in and the women met them.  Their hands danced circles around each other, and their feet slid smoothly, making ovals and lines gracefully upon the stones.  It seemed unreasonable they were fighting, for at first no blows were struck.  There was no contact at all as they measured each other, inching closer towards contact with each attempt.  The men made as little noise as the women, simply setting themselves to the task of battle as if it were of no great importance, fists striking like vipers.

The attacks became faster, stronger, creeping closer, and the graceful motions became interspersed with desperate ones as the intensity increased.  Then, contact could be avoided no longer, and both sides parried and blocked, meeting each other’s flesh for the first time, slamming their arms and legs against each other to deflect incoming blows.

It had seemed frantic until that point, but now the battle became wilder; a blurred flurry of movement, unrestrained violence and intent to kill.  Effort was plain on the faces of both sides.  The men breathed heavily and the women grew ruddy in the cheeks.

That being said, the women were not at all outmatched by the men, despite their smaller frames.  They skilfully turned every punch and kick aside with a palm or shin or forearm, diverting the blows with a minimum of effort.  They struck back with equal fury, with fist and foot and elbow—indeed, every part of their bodies seemed like weapons, sometimes clawing or poking with their fingers or striking with their heads.  Grunts of exertion accompanied each attack; from Phoenix especially, who flew like a storm, bellowing with exertion.  Just the sight of her put fear into Leopold, but her noise was further disturbing.

She landed a solid blow to one of the men and the male warrior fell back with a torrent of blood jetting from between his lips.  He choked and clutched at his chest, before collapsing backwards onto the floor.  She took no time to gloat in her victory and joined one of her colleagues who was failing.

‘These women are impressive,’ Samuel said, taking a moment to admire the display.  ‘They obviously did not lose their edge while on the island.  The men, however, seemed to have grown soft from the spoils of their new masters.  None of them are even close to the league of Horse.  I must say I am disappointed.’

Leopold was about to ask Who is this Horse? when one of the women, Arrow, gave a broken shriek and fell to the floor with her neck at an obscene angle.  The others fought on, taking note of her fate and continuing without hesitation, showing no distress from her death.  Leopold was aghast at the sight, but there was nothing he could do.  His father’s sword, still in his hand, may have well as been a feather duster for all he could do with it.

One of Orrell’s men spied a male Koian warrior within reach, and took a swipe at his back.  The Koian slapped the man’s sword out of his hand and returned it into his chest in one uninterrupted movement, never pausing from his assault upon the women.  The Turian fell to the floor, gasping and spouting blood from the wound.

Captain Orrell ducked beside him, but could not stem the flow.  The soldier gasped his last breath and was still.

Another Koian male slammed his fist into the forearm of a woman and she staggered away clutching the limb, unable to move her fingers.  In that instant, the male took advantage of the break in the defence and covered the distance from there to Leopold in the blink of an eye.  The wind from his fist blew in Leopold’s face, but the Koian warrior fell dead at his feet, the front of his throat crushed inwards.  Samuel had shoved his fingers into the man’s neck, abruptly ending the threat.

The magician could move blindingly fast when required, somehow shifting from place to place without effort.  Once again, why he did not do more to help with the battle, Leopold could not guess, but it was that same moment when the magician read his thoughts and proved him wrong.

Samuel shot his splayed hand up towards the balcony and ‘Damn you, pests!  Begone!  I’m sick of you!’ he bellowed.

The crossbowmen wailed as their weapons exploded in their hands.  Those that were visible fell behind the balcony wall.  Others hidden beside them shrieked with pain.  Whatever happened, the men were not seen again.

It looked like the battle was fairly evenly matched, even outnumbered as Leopold’s party were, but more dark-skinned figures now appeared on the balcony—bald and sashed with bands at their wrists.

‘Sorcerers!’ Leopold exclaimed.

The men held their palms outstretched with fingers opened wide.  Amber streaks of power emanated, but all such spells turned aside.

‘Is that you?’ Leopold asked.

Samuel nodded.  ‘Yes.  These men are intriguing.  See?  They act almost as one.  Their timing is impeccable.  It strikes me as strange considering how poorly trained their soldiers are.  Their teacher is uncompromising; much better than whoever trains their troops.’

The sorcerers gestured with their hands in unison, casting more spells.

‘Now they seek to bind us,’ Samuel said.  ‘The same spell from all of them.’

‘How long can you protect us?’ Leopold asked.

‘All day, given their paltry skills,’ he said, ‘but we should leave this infernal room and get some space around us.  I’m growing tired of this.  I want to draw out their leader, not play with these underlings.’

It was then that steaming bags dropped onto the floor, thrown from behind the cover above.  Pungent yellow smoke issued from the sacks, pouring through the coarse material.

‘Scour spice,’ Samuel said, taking a sniff, ‘and hogwurt.  And something else.’

‘What’s that?’ Leopold asked with concern.

‘Sleeping agents.  Vapours to overcome us and weaken my magic.  Cover your nose.’

Several of the bags flew back up and into the balconies as Samuel gestured at them, but more and more of the things plopped down around them, several at a time.  The vents and grates issued the same foul stench.

‘Damn them!’ Samuel said.  ‘They have not been as idle as I presumed.  They were ready for just such an event, plotting against Cang’s return.’

Orrell and his men were already down, collapsing within moments of inhaling the gas.  Jessicah and Lady Wind were also limp upon the floor, overcome by the fumes.  The Koian warriors from both sides were fighting at a fraction of their speed, staggering as they struggled against the effects of the vapour.  Soon, they too would fall victim to the gas.

Leopold felt his legs turning to jelly beneath him, but then Samuel’s hand wafted before his face and his senses cleared.  He slid his sword into its sheath before his fingers grew too numb to hold it.

‘Magician!’ called one of the sorcerers.  ‘You have lost.  Concede defeat.’

No sooner said, the man flew up into the roof, rolling over the balcony and tumbling to the ground, broken and limp as a discarded doll.

‘That will do you no good,’ called another sorcerer.  ‘You will succumb to the gases eventually.  You waste your precious time to escape, playing your games and hoping to sate your curiosity.  Abandon your friends and flee!’

Lord Samuel looked to his left and right, and both doors blew open as if fleeing from his scathing glance, but it did little to thin the air.  The gas clung to the floor stubbornly, refusing to move.

‘You cannot escape,’ the sorcerer added and then he, too, flew into the roof and was dead.

Still, there were plenty more of them in the room and the heavy vapour pouring from the sacks was slow in reaching their height.  It stuck to the floor and hugged against the walls, crawling up anything it touched, a creeping yellow mist.

‘Let us go,’ Samuel said.  ‘This is growing wearisome.’

‘We can’t,’ Leopold told him.  ‘They have everyone.  We can’t leave them.’

Samuel looked to the sleeping figures.  ‘Damn them twice!  They continue their spells to wear me down.’

He raised one finger and that was enough to release a savage spell.  A ring of violence circled the balcony.  The stone pillars cracked and vomited rubble as the line of power raced along them.  The sorcerers were cleft in two, bright blood painting the pale walls: twenty sorcerers dead in the blink of an eye.

Eudan soldiers poured in through the broken doorways, their noses and mouths covered with moist strips of cloth.  They charged at Samuel and Leopold, shouting battle cries with spears poised.  They fell by the score as Samuel looked towards them, left and right in turn, but even more poured in.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold called fearfully.

‘Don’t worry.  I can take as many men as they have to throw at us.’

And true enough, the bodies piled up in the doorways, but more Eudan soldiers clambered in and over their comrades to get at Samuel—a seemingly unending tide.

‘Oh, not more!’ Samuel sighed, for more sorcerers had already replaced the dead ones on the balcony above, nearly as numerous as the soldiers below.

The spearmen could no longer get in the door, so high was the pile of bodies, but the ones behind pushed until the piles fell and still they scrambled through.

A bead of sweat was creeping down the magician’s cheek and it gave Leopold cause for worry.

‘I need to clear this air,’ the magician declared.  He looked to the wall behind him and half of it exploded outwards.  Behind it was another wall, which also broke open, then another and another in rapid succession until daylight was visible across the grounds and through a dozen rooms and buildings.  ‘Leopold, bring her closer to me.’

‘Who?’ the reluctant Emperor asked.

‘Jessicah, of course!’ the magician roared with little patience.  ‘I cannot leave without her.’

Leopold did as he was told, presuming Samuel had a plan, and he dragged the sleeping woman over and laid her by his feet.  All the while, he heard strange whizzing sounds as if invisible things were flying past his ears.

‘That’s enough,’ Samuel declared.  ‘Stand close.  Let’s go,’ he said.  ‘We will return to the ship and come back for the others later.’

‘But we can’t leave them!’ Leopold objected.

He need not have bothered, for they did not go anywhere.

‘Damn!’ the magician swore.

‘What is it?’

‘The Great Spell will not form.  They were expecting this also.  Damn it!  I cannot get us away.’

‘Then what shall we do?’ Leopold asked with alarm, for it seemed as if the situation was beyond control.

‘Take her, Leopold.  Get Jessicah back to the ship.  I can act freely once she is gone, but I dare not risk hurting her.’

Leopold looked at the woman.  ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

‘Carry her!’ the magician roared.  ‘Put her over your shoulder and run!  I’ve given you the path.’  He glared towards the broken wall beside them.

Leopold shook his head.  ‘I can’t run with her!  They’ll catch me.’

‘You do it!’ Samuel bellowed and Leopold winced at the noise.

The scene was chaos around them, with men still clambering to be at them with their swords and spears, and sorcerers throwing their spells from above.  Leopold realised the hopelessness of it all.  Perhaps he could still escape, but the others were as good as dead already.  Rei’s words echoed in his ear—this was his chance to see Samuel dead.  He had no time to deliberate.  He took a backwards step, edging towards the breach in the wall and his escape.

‘Leopold!’ Samuel said, glaring towards him.  ‘What are you doing?  Come here and pick her up as I told you!’

Leopold shook his head.  ‘You should have acted when you had the chance.  Now look what you’ve done!  They don’t deserve this,’ he said, gesturing to Jessicah and the others on the floor, ‘but you do.  This is what you get for being a devil, Magician!’

‘Leopold!’ Samuel roared again, in pain.  ‘The voices have started.  My demons have awoken.  We cannot delay!’

There was a craving in Samuel’s eyes, a look of needing, of hunger, and Leopold felt terrified, dreading what would happen if he neared the man.

He eats souls, Rei had warned him.

Leopold backed into the fresh air, with yellow mist pouring out around his feet, seemingly following him, stubbornly clinging to his boots.  Eudan soldiers were approaching from his left, still far away but closing towards him.

Inside, Samuel was picking up Jessicah.  He took a step, labouring as if against chains that bound him to the floor.  He stumbled and fell to one knee, with the woman still in his arms.  He gazed at Leopold with utter contempt.

Leopold wondered if he had made the right choice, but it was too late now.  Samuel should never have led them into such a situation or underestimated their opponents.  Let the consequences fall on his head.

He prepared to run and Samuel’s last pained call held him in his tracks.

‘Leopold!’ the magician called, gently laying Jessicah onto the floor by his knees, placing her head upon Captain Orrell’s chest.  He kept his eyes locked directly on Leopold as he commenced taking in great breaths of air, pulling the acrid gas deep into his lungs.  ‘I forgive you, Leopold, but you had better come back.  I’m counting on you to save us.  Do what is right, Leopold!  You are the Emperor!’

They were his last, choking words.

Leopold was forced to run, for the Eudan soldiers were nearly upon him.  He turned and saw Samuel far away, kneeling in his black robes, with figures all about him, pummelling him until he fell, many of them succumbing to the gas themselves as they struck.  Finally, the figure of the magician toppled over and vanished as the soldiers crowded around him, punching and stabbing.

Leopold was off again across the grounds and through the buildings, falling through the final crumbling hole that led out into the city street.  He turned right and staggered alongside the outer wall, fearful at first that his disguise was gone and people in the street would recognise him as a stranger, but none of the Eudans gave him any more than a glance as he jogged along.

He found his way back the way they had come, out of the city and along the highway.  Finally, and with relief, he came to the bridge where they had hidden their boats.  Without a pause, exhausted, he trudged into the murky waters, glad to put Bodhi, The Heavenly City, behind him.

Chapter Seven

The Heavenly City

FROM THE RELATIVE safety of the marsh, Leopold heard the rush of guards thumping along the bridge.  He stayed hidden, buried inside the stiff branches of one of the trees that thrived in this stagnant, brackish quagmire.  Waiting for the cover of darkness, he dared not move towards the boats lest he bring attention to himself.

He presumed the sorcerers were busy in the palace and was thankful for that.  Like Samuel, they could have found him if they wished, but one young man did not compare to the prize they had already won—the greatest of magicians in the world.  Whether they had killed Samuel or captured him, Leopold did not presently know or care.  His only thoughts were of making his escape, of getting back to the Farstride.  After that ... he did not know.

He waited the long hours until night, barely daring to move except to relieve one cramped part of himself or another, letting the blood flow as best as he could.  He lowered himself chest deep into the water, and waded the short distance to where the boats were stowed; at least, to where he thought they were stowed, for the small island of mud he had been observing all the while turned out to be empty.  Looking closely, he realised it was not the right place at all.  With only the strange call of night birds to fill the air, he swore softly.  From clump to clump he searched, peering about in the dark for their boats.

The stars were tiny, brilliant pinpricks of light washed across the sky, countless specks of broken glass spilled upon a midnight blanket.  The moon had not yet risen, making it difficult for him to find anything in the darkness.  Thankfully, the stars reflecting upon the tranquil water helped him discern water from mud, sea from land.

At last he spied the nose of a vessel jutting from the shadows, and he pushed towards it feeling much relieved.  He tossed the leafy covering aside and pulled the craft into the water, climbing aboard.  The mud sucked at his waterlogged boots, threatening to pull them off, at last releasing him with a loud squelch.  Exhausted from the effort, Leopold hauled himself onto a wooden seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

With the air so hot and muggy he was in no danger of freezing to death.  It was only the clouds of buzzing mosquitos that caused concern.  They threatened to drown him with their bodies, pouring down his throat if he inhaled at the wrong time, sending him into a coughing fit.  He soon learned that their high-pitched humming gave them away and he made sure to hold his breath when the noise announced their approach.

Manning the oars alone, he pointed the vessel out to the sea.  It was no easy task in the dark and he kept snagging the longboat on sticks and branches, and seated backwards as he was to row, he was constantly forced to turn his head to see where he was headed.  Finally, the cluttered marsh grew thinner, marking the start of the inlet and the sea.

Now his task again became difficult.  There would be no problem navigating between the islands; he just had no idea which way to go.  He had not paid attention on the outward journey, presuming Samuel or the Koian women would do the job of guiding them home.  Frustrated, he set off towards the nearest shadow of land, planning to scour the islands one by one until he found the ship.

It took several hours and his arms were aching from the strain, but finally he found a glimpse of hope.  A glint of light flashed far ahead and Leopold steered towards it.  As he made around a piece of rocky ground, the Farstride came into view, glowing brightly with her many rows of lights in the cabins and many lanterns lit along the decks.  It was strange, he thought, that the boat should be so illuminated.  It did nothing to maintain secrecy.

What he saw next answered such questions: circled around the Farstride, each tiny by comparison, were a half-dozen other vessels.

‘Damnation!’ Leopold swore.

He halted his rowing and listened intently, letting his boat drift along by its own accord.  There was no sound of conflict, so he imagined the Eudans had already overpowered the whole crew.  He took off his boots and shirt—all of them stained brown with sludge—and slipped deftly from the side of his boat and into the water.

If he was to make claim of possessing one sure talent it was swimming.  Seventeen years of living on a little rock in the middle of the sea had taught him how to dart about in the water as nimbly as a fish.

His sword dragged uncomfortably at his side as he swam, but he was not about to leave it behind.  He stealthily passed the waiting Eudan vessels, making barely a sound, breathing in long, slow, controlled efforts.  He could hear Eudans talking and moving about on the vessels, their boots clomping on the decks, confirming that all was not well upon the Farstride.  He would have dearly loved to be proven incorrect—that allies had come from nowhere to join their efforts—but alas, it was not so.

Why is nothing ever easy? he thought, then scorned himself for adopting the magician’s words.

He bumped into something floating in the water and stopped, unsure.  At first he thought a stuffed sack had been thrown overboard.  Nearby, there were more of them.  One of them had something pale hanging out of it, and with terrible realisation he saw it was a face, the eyes open and lifeless.  They were bodies.  The dark shadows of other such corpses floated around him, undulating slowly with the gentle rise and fall of the sea.  There were hundreds of them.  Some were dark-skinned Eudans, others fair Amandians.  Leopold recognised some of the faces of Captain Orrell’s soldiers.  Many others wore the sailors’ garb of Captain Merryweather’s crew.

Leopold avoided the bodies where possible and pushed their bobbing corpses aside when he could not, prodding them with his fingertips.  It was disturbing to see their lifeless faces staring, many still screaming in silence, many whom he knew and had bantered with amongst the sails.  The violence committed to many was obscene, with parts of heads cleft away, eyes gouged out, entrails hanging.  Fingers and clumps of skin and flesh were floating freely of their own accord.  It made him want to be out of the water as quickly as possible, for he could already smell the blood.  The ocean was thick with it, staining his skin red as if bathed in wine.  It repulsed him, but there was nothing he could do except forge on.

He reached one of the mighty chains that bowed out into the sea and scaled it, link by enormous link.  He hung on with slippery hands and pushed himself up with bare, wet feet.  The segments were so heavy they barely moved under his weight and luckily each one was nearly half as big as himself, providing the perfect scaffolding to ascend.

Nearly to the top, he peered down at the waiting Eudan boats.  He was in shadow, but the danger remained of being seen by Eudan guards.  Carefully, but quickly as he dare, he continued shimmying upwards.

The chain disappeared into its housing and Leopold clambered after it into the pitch darkness.  Working from memory, he dragged himself around the mighty winch apparatus within, panting, straining in the tight confines—imagining his gruesome death if the device activated with him inside it—until he found a crack of light that marked the service hatch.  He waited, and upon hearing nothing after the space of many breaths, he edged the door open and peeked outside.

The tiny room, hardly bigger than a pantry, was empty and the light he saw was coming through the slats of the door opposite.  He slid out onto the floor as supple as a snake and stood lightly, quietly, for there were noises coming from the next room.

He could hear men talking on the other side, and he could tell from the way their voices played in his ear that they were Eudan.  It was another sign that Lord Samuel had not yet perished or given in to his demons, for it was said that when any magician dies his magic dies with him.  Leopold hoped his Eudan disguise was still also serving its purpose.

He stood there, barechested and barefooted, dripping on the floor, waiting for the men to depart.  It was the only exit, save venturing back down the chain—and there was little point in doing that.  There was nowhere else to go, and he would have little chance surviving in the Eudan countryside.  Liberating the ship was his only hope.

After some time, the Eudans stomped out of the room.  Leopold waited patiently for several more minutes to be sure none remained.  When he was confident, he ventured from his hiding place, creeping silently.

Three doors marked this next chamber.  The smallest, little more than a hatch, was the one through which he had just come.  Another led upwards towards the deck.  He turned his attention to the third.  He was sure any surviving Turians would be kept in the hold.  He eased the door open a crack and was surprised when it was pulled abruptly from his grasp.

A Koian male, tanned of skin and narrow eyed, muscled and thick, glared at him with thinly veiled contempt.  Leopold was sure this must be another of the superhuman warriors they met in the palace.  This one wore a tight, green shirt that had smudges of blood rubbed into it.  His muscles bulged under the cloth.  He was a monster of a man.

Leopold was wondering whether or not to run, when the Koian spoke.

‘What do you want?’ he said, deep and gruff in tone, using the Eudan language rather than his own.

Leopold shut his mouth and fought to find some sense.  ‘Ah.  How goes everything?’ he asked, trying to match the aggressive tone.

The Koian grunted.  ‘No trouble from the prisoners.’  Other such warriors stood behind him at other doors along the passageway and a couple turned their heads to see.

‘Ah.  Right then,’ Leopold replied and stepped back, letting the man shut the door behind him.

He wished there was a little latch or lock that he could push shut, to put some additional obstacle between him and the guards, but there was none.  He knew it would be pointless, for these men could easily kick down such flimsy barriers, but it would serve to make him feel better.

Leopold turned his mind to what to do next.  With no better ideas, he decided to get to his room and see if Salu and Toby were all right, to assess what he was facing.  From there he could plan further.  With this passageway blocked, the only route left to him was across the main deck.  With a sigh he accepted his fate.  He could not wait here; the other guards could return at any moment.  If he was to live or die, this would be the deciding moment.  He could lie on the ground and cry—accepting his failure and awaiting death—or he could meet his fate valiantly—well, slightly valiantly, given he had left his companions in the palace for dead.

He opened the remaining door and climbed the short stairs that led outside.  There, he stood boldly in the entranceway.  The main deck was covered with black-skinned Eudan soldiers and, above the fo’c’sle, a Eudan sorcerer was perched high on the yard, overseeing the ship from his towering vantage point.  He seemed to be unmoving, like a sentinel chiselled from wood and affixed to the mast.  How typical for sorcerers to be like magicians—always hovering about watching others and doing very little themselves.  He only hoped this sorcerer remained as such.

Some of the nearer Eudans noticed Leopold in the doorway and accepted him as one of their own, turning away after noting his presence.  How Samuel’s disguise spell worked, Leopold had no idea, but he was thankful for it.  It gave him a fleeting pang of guilt for abandoning the magician.  He had made no secret of the fact that he would eventually have his revenge, and all the fool Samuel for not preparing better.  Still, a tiny part of him could not help but wish he had done things differently.  Perhaps he would not be in this current mess at all.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind.  Done was done.  The man had made a misery of Leopold’s life since the day they met.  If only the infernal magician had not been so magnanimous in defeat!  Why had he been so forgiving?  Why could he not have cursed Leopold and screamed aloud at his treachery?  That would have made him feel better, but the magician’s closing words turned a screw of guilt further into him, deeper and deeper the more he thought of it.

Gathering his courage, Leopold sauntered casually across the deck, keeping close to the wall of the aftcastle, threading through the soldiers and heading for the opposite entrance.  Blood stains covered the timber decking and he was conscious of its stickiness beneath his feet, although he dare not avoid it for fear of drawing attention to himself.  He could hear the squelch, squelch, squelch of it parting with his skin.

He reached the opposite side of the ship and climbed the stairs to the second level.  He knew enough not to look over his shoulder, so he kept moving into the ship, until he was safely within the sanctuary of the passageway.  Eudan guards waited there also, talking softly of mundane pleasures, and he stepped past them without issue, focussing on the task of walking intently and with purpose.

Once in the internal hallways of the aftcastle there were very few guards.  He made it to his cabin without incident and entered directly.  The first sight to greet him was Salu and Toby, alive and well.  The old man had his back to the door, looking out a window, while Toby was playing up on the bunk.

Salu nodded his head solemnly upon Leopold’s entrance, while Toby whooped and started kicking his legs against the ceiling with excitement.

‘Come on!’ Leopold told them.  ‘Let’s go.  I’ll get you out of here.’

But Salu hobbled over and clasped one hand around Leopold’s arm—that grip as tight as iron—and spoke.  ‘Where is Samuel?’ he asked with his husky old voice.  It seemed he was in the mood to be communicative.

‘Taken prisoner by the leader of the Eudans—or perhaps dead,’ Leopold told him and old Salu was surprised.  His eyes opened enough to give a glimpse of his pale pupils, before once again receding beneath heavy eyelids.  ‘Everyone has been captured.  I was the only one to escape.’

Salu grunted.  ‘He is not dead.’

He picked up his stick from beside his bed and took a shuffling step towards the door, forcing Leopold to step aside lest the old man walk right over him.

‘Where are you going, you silly old fool?  Be careful!’ he said, careful not to raise his voice.  ‘You’ll be cut down by the first guard you meet!’

Salu said nothing and kept going out into the hallway, while Toby jumped all the way down from the bunk and hurried after him.

Leopold sighed and started after the backs of them both.

Indeed, there was a guard waiting in the middle of the next hall and ‘You!  Get back to your cabin!’ he shouted towards them.

Salu was unfazed, tapping his stick against either wall with each step, as if using it to sound his way.  The man stomped towards them, grumbling.

‘Where are you taking them?’ he called to Leopold at the rear.

‘Ah ... I’m taking them for ... interrogation,’ Leopold bluffed, but the man was not convinced.

He stopped in front of Salu with his hand on the hilt of his sword.  The corridor was tight and there was hardly room to swing it.  ‘Get back to your cabin, you old goat!’ he demanded.  ‘And you, boy, go with him.’

Salu paused before the guard, muttering under his breath.  Toby chose that moment to grin and howl like a maniac, beginning a dance that made his little legs patter frantically on the spot like pistons.  The Eudan stared at the both of them, not knowing which was the more incredible.

Leopold pushed to the front.  ‘It’s all right,’ he said.  ‘I have permission to take them out.  There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘You will do no such thing,’ replied the guard ferociously, finally prying his eyes from Toby’s rapid legs.  ‘The sorcerer himself told me to keep the old man under lock and key, and I will not cross him.  Who are you anyway?  What are you doing here?  How did you open their door?’

The man had now turned his attention squarely to Leopold.

‘Ah, it was open when I got there,’ Leopold explained, and indeed it had been.  However, he knew this was all pointless.  ‘Oh ... is that your mum?’ he asked, craning his neck and looking over the Eudan’s shoulder.

Why he said such a stupid thing, he did not know, but he was nervous and it was all that sprang to mind.  Remarkably, the dark-skinned man turned his head, looking quite annoyed.

It would have to do, and Leopold took his chance.  He threw out his fist and shoved it as hard as he could into the side of the Eudan’s chin.  Quite incredibly, it dropped the man to the floor.

He looked at his fist with wonder.  It throbbed with pain, but it was worth it.

Salu prodded the body with his stick, gave a contented grunt, then stepped neatly over it.  He opened the nearest cabin door in the hallway and Leopold and Toby followed him in.

A Koian woman was chained, blindfolded and gagged upon a cot and Leopold was surprised to discover it was Kali.  She could not see them but she turned her head and mumbled through her gag.  Salu bent over and fiddled with her chains while she wriggled in protest.  When the old man stood straight, her hands and feet were free.  She quickly sat up and wrestled off the remainder of her bindings.

‘What are you doing back here?’ she asked with concern.  Her hair was unbound and loose, spilling down across her face and she quickly gathered and tied it in a knot with a lace pulled from her pocket.  She glanced at Leopold’s bare feet.  ‘Where are the others?’

‘Freeing you,’ he said to answer her first question.  ‘The others have been caught,’ he said to address the second.  ‘Come, we need to retake the ship.’

‘Most of your soldiers are down in the holds,’ she said, ‘under close guard.  Three of my sisters are in the next room.  They are all that remain.  We must free them first.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask if we have a plan?’ Leopold said.

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said very matter-of-factly.

Leopold scowled, resenting her lack of confidence.  Then again,  she was right.

‘Did they hurt you?’ he asked her.

‘They didn’t dare,’ she replied, and the ferocity in her voice convinced him it was true.  ‘Eudans learnt that lesson a long time ago.  It is the Koian traitors amongst them that I was worried about, but luckily the dogs have been kept in check by their masters so far.’

They hurried next door and found three more Koian warrior women bound tightly; Eagle, Storm and Destiny.  Leopold removed their blindfolds while Kali worked at their chains.  She pulled back her arm and formed a fist with the middle knuckle sticking out.  A precise strike severed one of the links and the bonds fell free.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were warriors?’ Leopold asked her.

‘It was not my place to tell you anything,’ she replied.  ‘Those who needed to know, knew.  For an emperor, you seem remarkably uninformed.’

She freed the other two in the same manner as the first and the women stretched their legs and rubbed their chafed wrists.  From the way they cracked their knuckles and necks, stretching their fingers, Leopold could tell they were readying to have their revenge.

‘They will suffer for this,’ Storm declared angrily, and Leopold believed her.

When they turned to leave, Salu and Toby were already gone.  Leopold bolted into the passage, where the old man was already opening the far door.

‘Oh, no!’ Leopold said and ran as fast as he could after him, drawing his sword between strides.

‘What are you doing?’ came the roaring voice of a Eudan guard, for Salu had stepped through the doorway and was now standing in the man’s face.  He probably had no idea what they were saying to him, and he was incapable of making any kind of coherent reply even if he did.

Leopold pushed past Salu to fill the space between the old man and the Koian.  Three burly guards filled the small antechamber and they pulled out their swords as they saw Leopold’s weapon in his hand.  He had passed them earlier, but they had been far less intimidating when they were sitting quietly, looking rather sleepy.

Leopold glanced from their blades to his, and wondered what had gone through his mind to make him draw the damnable thing.  There was barely enough room in here to swing a fist, let alone a weapon.

The nearest guard’s face twisted with anger as he saw the four women coming along the corridor.  He took a step back to make room and lunged forward to skewer Leopold on the end of his blade.  Leopold could not find the capacity to move and thought that moment may be his last, watching the sword driving at his middle.  With inches to go, Salu stepped in, shunting the flat of the weapon aside with his body.  The blade slipped past Leopold and dug into the wall.  The old man then shoved the guard backwards with both of his hands, knocking the fellow off balance.  His sword end followed him, slicing upwards dangerously as he flailed.

Thank goodness! Leopold thought, stumbling aside, but the old magician was not finished.

Before the guard had fallen too far, Salu reached out as quick as a monkey and grabbed him by the hand.  He pulled the fellow spinning back upright and just as quickly pushed him face first into the wall.  The Eudan dropped his sword with the impact.  He staggered as he regained his balance, sputtering colourful Eudan insults.  Finally, he found his wits and turned to his companions, about to order them to action, when Salu struck him again, lashing out with his walking stick, cracking him on the side of the head.  His eyes rolled in his head and he fell straight down with legs turned to jelly.

The other guards had taken that long to recover from their surprise, and they now stepped in to hack at the old man.  But Salu lithely avoided their attacks as if they were nothing more than weary toddlers poking at him with wooden spoons, and he overwhelmed them deftly and precisely.

Salu hobbled as he moved, but somehow, when he needed to, his old steps became remarkably spry, shifting him about on the floor in rapid, distinct movements that Leopold could never hope to match.  His stick flew like the wind, striking the back of their knees and systematically debilitating their defences, dropping them to the floor, then tapping the tops of their skulls with resounding clunks and sending them likewise senseless or dead to the floor—Leopold could not tell which, but from the magnitude of the noise, it was probably the latter.

Toby was standing to the side of the small room, watching the entertainment with glee and clapping his hands as the last man hit the deck.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Kali said, staring through the doorway towards them.  ‘Your old companion is also much more than he seems.’

‘Isn’t everyone around here?’ Leopold said.  ‘I’m just waiting for Toby to start breathing fire and throwing lightning.  I seem to be the only one around here who is normal, and that’s saying something.’

Salu had already started out towards the main deck.

‘What are you doing?’ Leopold asked him.  ‘We need to free the soldiers before we go out there!’

Salu grumbled at such a suggestion and Leopold caught something like ‘thankless dolt’ trailing at the end.

‘We’ll release them,’ Kali said.  ‘The old man is either mad or knows more than he’s letting on.  Either way it will be dangerous out there.  You should stay with us.’

Leopold sighed.  ‘I’d better follow him.  I can’t let him go out there alone.  Although, if he calls me any more names I may just reconsider.’

Kali nodded, and continued past with her sisters.  They opened the next door that led to lower decks and the noise of combat sounded at once as they pummelled whatever guards they found waiting there.

Old Salu shuffled along the passage and out into the open.  The main deck was illuminated by all the ship lamps set about the railing and hanging from the mast poles, and the man continued out with Toby and Leopold trailing him—Toby as happy as ever and Leopold with his sword shaking unsteadily in his hand.

‘Go back, Toby!’ Leopold kept hissing to the boy, but Toby was oblivious to the commands and looked past the high masts of the ship to the star-filled sky with wonder and joy, as if this was his first time ever let out of his room.

The multitudes of Eudan soldiers on deck turned their heads as one, watching the trio tread down the stairs.  Some of the nearest climbed to their feet, intrigued.

‘What are you doing?’ one of the Eudans asked them.  ‘Get back to your room!’

He looked to Leopold with a moment of confusion before Salu’s stick relieved him of his wits with a sharp, cracking blow to the side of his head.  Soldiers gasped in surprise.  Several drew their swords and some even laughed at the sight of their fellow being overcome by such a feeble old man.  There were thirty of them within a few steps, and perhaps three hundred and fifty more across the deck.  The nearer ones were not taking chances and they stepped in to cut the old man down.  They, too, fell in a heap.

The Eudans began to realise their error.  More drew their swords, rising from their resting points and coming at the old man in earnest, one after the other.

Salu’s stick went to work, striking each deftly and soundly, hitting them with expert precision.  No more than three hits was required to put any man onto the floor, and although he never raised his gaze from the floor, the old man seemed to detect each incoming attack before it arrived, moving aside with fluid ease.  With each Eudan he felled, he took another step forward, seemingly intent on taking on the whole lot of them.

Leopold followed behind, holding his sword in readiness, but Salu took care of the enemy without exception.  All Leopold could do was follow along in the old man’s wake, letting his blade wander around, doing his best to keep Toby behind him.

More soldiers came together, ten in a line and Salu roared and whipped his stick along them all, forcing them to step back, and for the first time the old man made an effort, grunting as he moved.  With their initial assault broken, he surprised them by diving lithely, rolling behind them and coming to his feet like a well-versed acrobat, striking them in rapid succession as they spun to follow him, their heads sounding like a row of struck coconuts.

The other soldiers over the decks of the Farstride had gathered nearer.  The sense of amusement had fully left them as the old man continued his work.

Some had bows and fired their missiles from short range, either well-skilled enough to avoid hitting their comrades or uncaring if they did.  Salu struck the arrows from the air in mid-flight, slapping them to the deck or away with rapid snaps of his weapon, setting the cloth of his sleeves cracking like whips.

With alarm, Leopold realised Toby was missing.  The boy was no longer behind him and as he looked about desperately, he saw more Eudans readying their bows on the third level decking behind him.  Salu seemed oblivious to their presence, his back turned, and the old man refused to respond to Leopold’s calls of warning.  All Leopold could do was run to the steps and attempt to dispatch the bowmen by himself.

The first one was unprepared and screamed as Leopold’s blade penetrated halfway through his forearm.  The ease at which it pierced the flesh was alarming, but Leopold had no time to marvel.  The fellow continued howling as he fell and Leopold stood over him, wondering if he should finish the poor sod or not.  The Eudan was desperately covering the blood-gushing wound with his other hand, staring up with terror.

The other Eudans, however, were far from helpless.  They dropped their bows and drew other weapons, the nearest bearing a jagged knife.

Leopold stepped over their fallen comrade and pointed his sword toward the other two.  They looked fearless, like hunters set on the kill, the whites of their wide eyes and their snarling teeth bold against the black of their skin.  The first one thrust out with his dagger and Leopold stepped back, unsure, nearly tripping over the fellow still screeching behind him on the floor.  The Eudan followed closely, stabbing the air until Leopold realised he could not continue stepping back—he was nearly at the stairs.

With a mighty yell he drove forward, springing lightly on his bare feet.  His blade slipped past the Eudan’s knife and went deep into the man’s chest, finding its way between his ribs and slipping neatly inside.  The Eudan shrieked and fell away, nearly pulling the blade from Leopold’s hand.  At the last instant Leopold had the sense to hold tight so that his weapon drew free.  This man did not continue screaming, but lay choking and writhing, spitting up blood.

The last Eudan had sensibly exchanged his bow for a sword and stepped past his fallen companions, swinging at Leopold.  Leopold raised his own weapon and blocked as he had been trained, but when steel met steel it nearly broke his wrist.  The Eudan hit down again, each time battering Leopold’s defence.

In desperation, Leopold dropped flat onto his back, swiping his blade towards his opponent’s shins.  The sword stroke homed true, cutting through meat and revealing white bone beneath.  The man squealed, still gripping his sword, but did not fall.  His wound poured blood, but he hacked defiantly at Leopold, who was now on the floor.

Leopold was quicker and scrambled backwards, regaining his feet.  This time he did not feel compassion, for his opponent was determined to fight until the bitter end.  Leopold plunged his sword into the fellow’s belly, forcing it in deep.  Again the Eudan howled.  Leopold withdrew his blade and stabbed it forth once more, this time towards the heart.  The Eudan gasped and fell dead.

Leopold now had time to catch his breath, and he looked down upon the carpet of bodies strewn upon the main deck.  Salu was a quarter of the way towards the fo’c’sle and did not look like slowing down, somehow forcing the crowd of soldiers away from him.  Toby had reappeared, following him, climbing over bodies.

To Leopold’s dismay, one of the far doors opened and more Eudans came pouring out, adding to the numbers of those already there, encircling Salu completely, catching him between the second and third mainmasts.  Accompanying them were five of the Koian warrior men and they raced in at Salu as quick as foxes, throwing Eudan soldiers aside in their haste to be at him.

Even against five superhuman warriors, Salu held his ground.  Indeed, it looked as though the Koians and Salu were evenly matched, for neither of them were able to better the other.  The old man was kept busy, in constant motion, lashing out at any foolish Eudan who dared venture within striking distance, while defending himself against the constant attacks of the Koians.

Toby ran between Salu’s legs as if in play, miraculously avoiding the battle around him.  Everyone seemed too busy with the old man to pay him any mind, but a single strike or untamed sword swipe—even a misstep from Salu himself—could be disastrous.

‘Toby!  Toby!’ Leopold called, striving to raise his voice above the din of the battle, but the boy was unresponsive even if he heard.

The crowd around Salu surged in and the old man and Toby disappeared beneath their numbers.  Koian and Eudan both were atop of them, all grasping and grabbing and stabbing, and Leopold took in a sharp breath of anxiousness.  But a roar sounded from beneath and the pile of bodies flew aside.  Salu stood at their centre, looking furious but unharmed.  Without a pause he continued with the onslaught.  Toby, however, was gone.

Leopold spied the boy, at the side of the deck and away from the throng, clambering up onto the railing to get a better view, struggling to get his little leg on a foothold.

A hatchway at the far end of the deck burst open and more men came out.  This time, Turian soldiers came streaming into view, wielding their swords and intent on revenge.  Kali and her sisters were amongst them and together they commenced demolishing the Eudans who turned to meet them, leaving Salu to deal with the male warriors.

Given a little breathing space, Salu gained a new level of dexterity, matching the Koian men’s athletic feats, the wooden stick in his hand a blur that kept them at bay.  Somehow the stick never snapped or broke.  It slapped wildly, stinging, but lacking the weight to do them any true harm.

Salu hit out at one Koian warrior and the man easily ducked, letting Salu’s attack slap uselessly against a mast pole.  The Koian grinned and stepped closer to strike the old man, but Salu brought his stick back, the lantern hanging upon the mast with it, smashing it into the side of the Koian’s head and setting his face ablaze.  The man yelled, staggering away as he patted frantically at his face, stinking of burning hair and oil.  The deck bloomed with the light of that fire.

The other four came in savagely while the fifth recovered, and Salu fought back.  He smacked and battered them, but he could not make any headway with just a slender wooden stick.  He moved rapidly, almost desperately, and his face glistened with sweat.  They pursued him all around, and sometimes he pursued them in return, but he could never get the better of them for more than an instant, outnumbered four to one as he was.

Then, the worst happened.  A crack sounded and half of Salu’s staff went flying over the side of the ship and into the sea.  The other half remained in his hand, little more than a handle of wood.  He paused to consider the situation, then shuffled ten steps backwards to give himself some room.  He threw the shard in his hand over the side, following after its other segment.

‘Salu!’ Leopold called.  Some inspiration had taken hold of him, for the old man needed a weapon.  With one deft movement, he threw his father’s sword towards the waiting magician.

Whether it was luck or some magic on Salu’s part, the blade flew directly into his upheld hand, snatched tightly into his withered fist.  There was something like a grin on the old man’s face, and he nodded happily to himself as he felt the weight of the weapon in his grasp.

The Koians had also taken a moment to take stock, but seeing a sword in their opponent’s hands caused them to set upon him remorselessly.  The men struck as one—with fist and foot and elbow—and Salu evaded; a bar of soap between their fingers.

A flash of sunlight on steel followed him, burning a fan of brilliant silver into Leopold’s eyes, and something flew spinning into the air.  It landed on one of the bare patches of deck between bodies—a severed hand.

Only Leopold was surprised.  The wounded Koian did not yell or pause, and continued to leap after Salu, striking out with his remaining fist.  Salu twirled full circle and another rapid slash of his sword severed the Koian’s good arm at the elbow.  Stepping aside, Salu let the stumbling warrior pass him by like a charging bull.  A neat flick of his sword hand saw the fellow decapitated.  Even so, the warrior took four more steps before falling flat.

The four remaining warriors fell back, for something had changed in Salu’s stance with his first shedding of blood.  For the first time, their courage wavered.  Any remnant of the feeble old man was gone, and now a white-haired tyrant faced them, a relentless sword-wielding butcher who was after their blood.

Salu moved towards them, shuffling slowly but steadily, not willing to let them have any space.  The blade in his hand was slick with blood, but with one flick the stain flew free, splattering onto the deck, and it was clean again.  The warriors looked unsure, spreading out and changing their stance from one defensive position to another, as if cycling through their repertoire, trying to find something that might keep them safe.

Surprising them all, Salu broke into a sprint.  Never before had the old man moved so fast.  It took him five steps to reach them, bounding like a tiger, and he had hacked another Koian nearly in two before the men could react.  Without a pause, he vaulted for the next closest one, but this Koian was prepared and ducked under Salu’s sword swipe while his companions came at the old man from behind.

All the while Salu kept his head down as he fought, seemingly not needing his eyes to fight.  Only occasionally did he glance up to get his bearings, and his pale pupils gleamed in the night like white-hot rings of silver.  The rest of the time, he seemed to rely on his hearing, or feeling, or some other instinct—perhaps all of them combined, Leopold did not know.

The three remaining warriors had lost their measured approach and now appeared anxious, as Salu methodically sliced them to pieces.

He stabbed one deep in the chest.  The man leapt up, driving himself further onto the blade to get his fingers into Salu’s face.  The old man rolled onto his back and threw the Koian from him.  Rolling directly to his feet, Salu turned and pinned the Koian to the deck with his sword, twisting the blade and ripping it free sideways through his ribs, tearing up half the decking with it, to be sure the warrior was dead.  He went to step away, but even in death the man had hold of his foot and Salu shook his leg to be free.

Salu decapitated another of the warriors, and yet as the man’s head flew free, his fists continued striking in a rapid volley, forcing the old man to dance backwards until the headless Koian lost momentum and toppled.

The last warrior, his face blistered and burned, was desperate and terrified.  He dropped to his knees with his back against a mast pole, blubbering and pleading for his life.  But Salu was unforgiving.  He shuffled slowly into range.  He paused, for some reason known only to himself, and mumbled, causing the warrior to breathe a sigh of relief.  The Koian opened his mouth to utter his thanks, but Salu would have none of it.  He flipped the long sword over in his fist, holding its point downwards like an oversized dagger, and in one motion sliced its tip across the warrior’s stomach.  Intestines flopped onto the deck like so many joined sausages.  With a twist of the wrist the blade returned the other way, slashing the Koian’s throat from ear to ear.  A thin crimson line appeared, spilling blood down his front, while more came gushing out his mouth.  The man tipped forwards, stone dead, onto the contents of his own stomach.

Leopold was not exactly free during all of this, but had been sneaking glances while evading other Eudans that came hunting him.  They had crept up the stairs, unwilling to go anywhere near the cyclone of death that was Salu, yet quite happy to harry an unarmed youth.

Leopold edged away, running out of room with them on either side.  He took a running leap and grabbed hold of one of the stay ropes for the nearest mast.  He hoped no more bowmen took him in their sights, and he scrambled up the thick, knotted rope, out of their reach, until he was halfway up the mast.  High above the decking, he perched upon one of the yards.

It was then that Salu defeated the last of the Koian warriors.  He had finished the Koian men and half the Eudans without receiving a single blow in return.  Each warrior now lay in dark puddles of their own blood, illuminated by the lamplight of the ship.  Kali and the Turian soldiers were still busy at the other end of the deck, dealing with the remainder of the Eudans, but it seemed they were well on their way to victory.

Salu now beheld the figure of the Eudan sorcerer still watching from overhead, higher than Leopold and on the next mast over.  He went to the rigging and grabbed hold, ready to ascend, intent on reaching him.

He had only raised his leg to the first rung when a shadow swooped down and the sorcerer alighted on the railing beside Toby.

‘Who are you, old man?’ the sorcerer asked, patting the boy fondly on the head with his dark hand.  ‘I find it wonderfully intriguing that two such capable magicians should come to my city.  I’ve never seen anyone fight quite like that, beyond even my beloved Koian pets.  Even Samuel did not grant such a spectacle before he succumbed to me; quite the pity.’

The man was certainly not Prithamon, but the sorcerer’s voice was so similar so as to be easily mistaken for him.  This fellow had a squarish chin and a heavy brow, much heavier in build than the red-robed sorcerer.

Salu looked at the fellow gravely, lowered his foot once more from the rigging and moved towards him, striding now with strong, measured steps.  Gone was the shuffling.  He moved as if killing this sorcerer was his single greatest desire, and he peered at the man directly, with unbridled bloodlust.  He more resembled one of the muscled warriors he had defeated than an old man.  Whereas before he was bent with age, he now stood tall and strong, his muscles standing out, slabs of flesh bulging beneath his simple garments, with the blood-soaked sword hanging loosely in his grip.

‘And who is this little boy you allow to roam freely during such a bloodbath?’ the sorcerer asked.  ‘Have you no compassion for your young?  Is his life worth so little?  It seems remarkable that he has survived until now in such company.  Marranpal, the goddess of luck, is certainly on his side, but ... all good things must surely come to an end.’

He plucked up Toby and let him dangle by one of his feet, his hand clenched around the boy’s ankle.  Toby looked up at him and smiled in return.

‘I know you are more than capable of defeating me,’ the sorcerer continued, with Salu halfway to reaching him, ‘but I do not care.  I just wonder if you really have such little respect for life as I suspect.’  Salu did not slow or reply.  ‘Is he really so worthless?’ the sorcerer asked and held the boy behind him over the water.

‘No!  Salu, stop!’ Leopold called, but the man was adamant in his advance, now only two steps from the sorcerer.

‘Very well,’ the dark man stated, and opened his hand.

Toby fell away, disappearing over the side.

Leopold thought Salu may have had some plan to somehow save the boy—that he might spring forward just in the nick of time—but he did not.  Toby simply fell, plummeting down and vanishing into the dark waters of the sea with only a small, unimpressive splash.

‘No!’ Leopold cried.  He was running and leapt from the end of the yardarm before he realised what he was doing, diving from the dizzying heights.  As he whistled past the deck, he saw Salu step in and cleft the sorcerer diagonally in two from hip to shoulder with one sweep of his sword, following the man’s crimson sash with his blade.

‘Fascinating,’ said the sorcerer in his moment of death.

That was all Leopold had time to witness.  With the hull of the ship rising past him, he readied himself, balling his hands together as hard as he could to break the dark surface of the sea.

The impact nearly knocked him senseless, like diving through a block of stone.  But Leopold continued downwards, kicking into the darkness with determination, desperately searching for some sign of the boy.  It was the only time in the whole battle he was glad to be bare-footed, for his feet propelled him down at speed.  Boots would not have driven him nearly as well, and would have made the return trip impossible.

Down he went, kicking deeper and deeper into the darkness, leaving the lights of the ships far behind.  It was as if he were plunging into another world dominated by darkness, cold and silence ... until something did glimmer below him in the deep.

He kicked towards it and saw Toby sinking before him.  The boy was looking directly at him, not even attempting to save himself, and precious air billowed from his mouth as he smiled and laughed in the water.  His face was pale and tiny bubbles were stuck to his cheeks and nose.

Leopold pursued him down, fingertips almost in reach.  It took one more kick to close that tiny, vital distance.  He grabbed hold of Toby’s shirt and turned about, kicking upwards as hard as he could, feeling the drag of the boy in his hand, weighing him down like a bucket of solid marble.

Leopold’s lungs were burning and the distant light from the ships seemed hopelessly far, but he could not give up.  His chest craved for air, and the despairing desire of dropping the boy and saving his own life threatened to waylay all other thoughts.  He pushed such temptations aside and forged on, kicking hard, accepting that he would reach the surface with Toby or die trying.

With only one hand to aid him, his ascent was painfully slow.  He could hardly control his thirst for air any longer, straining to stop himself from gulping in mouthfuls of salty water.  Then, he broke the surface and took a wild heaving breath.  He brought Toby up beside him, pulling the boy’s face into the air, panting to get some for himself.

Nausea threatened to choke up his throat, and between struggling for breath, holding down the contents of his stomach and keeping Toby above water, he kicked towards the ship.  He grabbed hold of the boarding netting and clung his fingers onto it will all his trembling strength.

‘Toby!’ he cried, for the boy was not breathing and his eyes were rolled back in his head.  ‘Toby!’ he gasped and shook him as hard as he could, which was difficult given the situation.  He thought about climbing, but exhaustion meant it a fantasy.  He tried to yell, but his voice was lost, a feeble whimper.

He would have to save the boy here, in the sea.

He shook the fragile child and choked out his name.  He heaved him up with one hand and threw Toby face down over his shoulder, then hopped up and down, poking his shoulder into the boy’s stomach, with little more than hope that such an action would squeeze the water from his lungs.

The boy convulsed and water jetted from his mouth.  He emptied his stomach over Leopold’s back and Leopold pulled him down, manoeuvring the boy into a one-armed embrace.

Toby smiled up at him and looked at Leopold with happiness, coughing up a watery giggle.

‘Toby!’ Leopold said, feeling beyond relief.  He almost wept with joy, then and there.  ‘Why can’t you bloody-well learn to swim?  Why don’t you just do what we say and stop getting yourself into trouble?’

‘Toby!’ the boy shouted with enthusiasm, spraying more water, continuing to cough happily.

Leopold waited until some strength returned, then climbed up the netting, step by difficult step with Toby hanging from one arm.  Painstakingly, he made it to the top and dropped the boy over the rail as gently as he could.  He followed after, falling over the edge, saturated with utter, unbounded relief.

****

The main deck was a carpet of bodies.  Salu was sitting on a step with Leopold’s sword discarded beside him.  Somehow, Toby had the strength to pluck himself up and waddle beside him.  He faced the old man, smiling.

Leopold staggered over to beside them both, bent and picked up his sword and slid it back into its sheath, sending up an unexpected jet of water as his blade plunged into the soaked scabbard.  His head ached with every movement, his body wracked by spasms of pain that tore through his muscles, but he would say his piece.

‘After all the men you killed, couldn’t you even stop their sorcerer from dropping him over the edge?’ Leopold asked, panting.

Salu looked to the boy.  ‘He lived,’ the old man replied, a barely audible grumble.  He was turning something over in his hands—a thick bracelet of red and gold from the wrist of the slain sorcerer.

‘Because I saved him!’  Leopold declared in a rage.  ‘He almost drowned and I almost drowned saving him!  All you had to do was stop the sorcerer from dropping him!  Was that not simple enough?’

Salu grunted in response, rubbing the trinket with his fingers.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ Kali said, running up to him.  ‘The last of the Eudans have locked themselves below.  We shall have the door down soon and then that will be the last of them.’

‘Fine,’ Leopold said, surveying the corpses that littered the timber decking, leaving her to run back to her work.

Captain Merryweather was walking amongst the bodies, dismayed, while Daneel strode about, poking at men with the tip of his sword to be sure they were dead.  The Turian soldiers were sorting the Eudan dead from their own, and tossing the fallen enemy overboard.

‘And why didn’t the sorcerer try to escape?’ Leopold said, returning his anger to Salu.  ‘Why did he stand there and let you cut him in half?’

‘He was curious to see if I would.  I did,’ was Salu’s reply, and he shrugged.

‘You magicians are nothing but trouble.  We’d be better off without you.’

Toby turned his head, his nose still running and the water dripping from his hair, and he laughed.  Old Salu only looked at his feet and muttered.  The old man was hunching over before Leopold’s eyes, rolling up and returning to his former feeble self.

‘And why, if you were capable of cutting half the Eudan army apart, did you not do something before they captured the ship?  Don’t you know how many have died already?’

‘I don’t,’ Salu admitted.  ‘Life and death are so similar, I sometimes find it hard to tell them apart.’

‘I’ll give you a clue!’ Leopold shouted.  ‘Those ones are dead!’ he said, pointing to the fallen.  ‘The ones still walking and talking are alive.  It’s not so complicated.’

The old man descended further into his mumbling and would not reply.

Eudans remained on the nearby craft around the Farstride, their crews aware of the uprising, with little they could do.  Flaming arrows sent arching across the gap soon had them hurrying away.  Several ships were already burning to the waterline.

Commander Riggadardian came to Leopold, looking weary, half-crazed, but with hope in his eyes.  He had been bruised and battered, with a swollen bottom lip, but that did not account for his concern.  He was sick with worry.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ he said.  ‘You saved us!  How glad I am, and how much like your father you are.  Tell me—tell me!  Where is Lord Samuel?  Where is Lady Wind?’

‘She was captured along with all the rest,’ Leopold said.  ‘Likewise, Samuel is their captive.  I was the only one to escape.’

Leopold witnessed Riggadardian’s heart explode in his chest.  The man was emotionally spent, his last vestige of hope shattered.

‘Wh—what can we do to save them?’ he asked, floundering.  ‘Is ... is she still alive?’

‘We will go and save them,’ Daneel stated resolutely, approaching.  ‘Leopold, you can show us the way.’

Leopold felt his plans beginning to unravel.  ‘Ah, I think it is better that we escape while we can.  Even Lord Samuel could not defeat them.  There are too many of them and their sorcerers are stronger than he expected.’

‘Nonsense!’ Daneel declared.  ‘We are not defeated so easily.  Look what you have done already, oh Mighty Emperor.’  He made no effort to hide the satire in his words.  ‘You have returned and freed us singlehandedly from overwhelming odds.  The least we can do is attempt the same for the others.’

‘They will be expecting such a move,’ Leopold said.  ‘I’m sure they will know soon, if not already, that we have retaken our ship.’

‘It matters not,’ Daneel said.  ‘By the time they get here we shall be gone.’

Leopold could not bring himself to imagine what would happen if Samuel got his hands on him.  Being an emperor would not save him from the magician’s fury.  ‘We should move away and take stock of the situation,’ he said, nodding in attempt to convince the others.

‘No,’ Riggadardian said with haggard eyes.  ‘We go now, while there is still hope.’  He had lost his Turian manner altogether, not noticing or caring that he disagreed with his Emperor.

‘We must get him into his box,’ stated the voice of Salu.  He was still sitting there beside them, his voice soft and gruff, but they all heard his words.  ‘His demons are close to victory.  I feel they would be upon us already, but Samuel holds on—in some deep slumber.’

‘Gas,’ Leopold said.  ‘The Eudans subdued him.’

‘Then perhaps he meant to put himself to sleep?’ Daneel pondered, but Leopold was not about to blurt out the answer and give himself away.

‘Perhaps,’ Salu admitted with his weary, husky voice.  ‘Without his casket, a deep slumber is the next best thing.  But it will not last for long.’

‘We must reach him before it is too late,’ Daneel stated with worry.

‘How can we get such an unwieldy thing to him?’ Riggadardian asked.  ‘It’s hard enough just getting it in and out of his cabin.  And we would have to somehow breach the walls of the palace to reach him.  We don’t have nearly enough men remaining for an assault.  We have black powder, but that would surely bring the wrath of their sorcerers upon us.  Stealth will be out of the question as well.  They will be expecting some kind of attack once they learn we are on the move.’

Daneel nodded.  ‘Commander, do not worry.  We will save your lady and the others.  Go.  Rest.  You have given your all for your men, but you need to recover your strength.’

‘Yes, but we need to move the ship closer to the city,’ the old commander went on stubbornly.

‘Captain Merryweather can see to it all.  But where would we put ashore?’ Daneel mused aloud.

‘In the city,’ Salu said.  He drew himself upright before their eyes, growing tall and straight as before, like a machine building itself together from the ruins of its own form.  His eyes were wide and open, absorbing everything that came into their field of view, staring straight past them towards the east—towards Samuel.

‘That’s right,’ Daneel agreed.  ‘We take the box and the ship to Samuel together.’

‘Into the city?’ Riggadardian said.  ‘That is madness.’

‘Then trust a madman to think of it!’ Salu snapped.  He paced up and down animatedly as he talked, as if impatient to take advantage of his returned strength.  ‘Do as I say, young whelp!  If we do not act swiftly all life upon this world will be snuffed out before the sun next sets, so hark my words—unless you think you know better?’

Riggadardian flushed.  ‘So be it.  I trust you have some plan for us, Magician.  You’ve been the bane of the Empire all your life.  I hope you have nothing treacherous in mind.’

‘I have a plan of a plan.  Just get us there and I will do the rest.’  The old magician moved away from them to return staring to the east.  It was not the faint glow of the rising sun he was observing; it was the swelling, disturbing energy that drew his attention, an ominous presence that Leopold could feel just as well, pulling at his innards as if a fishing hook had become lodged there, snagged in his flesh and tugging on its line.

They split up to commence their work.  Captain Merryweather directed the ship, while Riggadardian went to his cabin to rest as directed.  Daneel was barking orders like a madman, getting their landing team prepared.  Leopold was left standing idle.  Finally, he decided to change his clothes and find some boots.

‘Hold it there,’ Daneel called after him, and the man’s tone was enough for Leopold to know he was in trouble.  He turned to await whatever would be dished out.  ‘Whatever it is, we’re going to find out,’ Daneel said grimly.  ‘You have guilt written all over your face, so I know you’re up to something.  Emperor or not, I’ll see to you myself if you lead us into any mischief, or I discover you’ve already been up to any.’

Leopold moved his mouth, waiting for some excuse to fumble its way out, but Daneel had no time to wait and hastened away.  There was nothing Leopold could do to avert his fate, so he continued to his cabin as planned, and tried to push all thought of consequences from his mind.

****

The Farstride set sail as quickly as possible.  The crew did a valiant job, coming together amidst the scene of slaughter at Captain Merryweather’s and Mr Chapman’s commands, stepping over the dead—friend and foe alike—to get to their work.  Of Lieutenant Fillius there was no sign.

The soldiers worked at clearing the decks, now tossing the corpses overboard one after the other, so they left a trail of floating bodies in their wake.  They abandoned any option of keeping their fallen comrades aboard for a proper funeral.  There was simply no time.

Kali and her three warrior sisters were also skilled medics, and they traversed the expanse of the ship, stripping sail cloth into bandaging and wrapping the wounds with a concoction of various fluids—vinegar, honey and herbs and such that they sourced from the galley.  No one but Leopold could understand what they said, so the women took what they needed without hesitation.

Leopold stood on the main deck and watched the moon and stars high above them fading into dawn.  He knew what would happen: they would somehow rescue Samuel and the others, and then the magician would reveal his treachery.  Could they harm their own Emperor?  Would they kill him?  Riggadardian would surely never allow such a thing, but Daneel was no Turian.  He was capable of anything and he was a Truthseeker.  All the Empire could not keep Leopold from harm if Daneel and Samuel decided otherwise.

He hoped Samuel would refrain from physical harm, but the magician’s wrath, in whatever form it took, was enough to make him shiver with dread.  He felt tears welling up inside him.  He bit them down, holding onto the railing and watching the moon slipping about on the wave tops as they pushed towards The Heavenly City.  He squeezed the smooth wood under his fingers as hard as he could, feeling his arms tremble with the exertion.  ‘I forgive you, Leopold’, the magician had said.  Damn that infernal man!  If only he had never come to their island.  If only Leopold was with his mother and father now, or sitting on his dumb, boring rock netting fish.  He would give anything to be there again.  The world could burn around him!

He felt a string of profanities swelling up in his throat, and he was about to shout them out as loud as he could to vent his bitter rage when he realised he was not alone.

‘Are you injured?’ sounded a voice behind him and Leopold quickly turned about and stood straight.  It was Kali.

He supposed he may have looked hurt, bent over and clinging to the side of the ship, probably with his face contorted in pain.  He swallowed his anger, for he had no wish to let her see him pining for better days like a spoilt child.

‘Are you injured?’ she repeated, looking him over with concern.  She had a bucket of foamy water in one hand and a roll of white cloth in the other.

‘Oh ... no,’ he replied.

She nodded and went to continue on her way.

‘Wait!’ he said, stepping after her.

She hesitated.  ‘What is it?’

‘I need to ask you something.  It will be quick,’ he added, sensing her desire to be back to her work.  ‘I don’t really know how to be an emperor.  All this is very strange to me.’  She tilted her head, as if trying to find meaning in his words, and set down her bucket.  ‘What I am trying to say is, I think I have made an awful mistake.’

‘What did you do?’ she asked him apathetically.

‘I was scared and I ran.  Lord Samuel asked me for help, and I could have stayed—I should have stayed—but I was afraid.  I couldn’t stop thinking how much I hated him, so ... so I ran away.’  He waited for her to reply reassuringly, but she continued scrutinising him closely.  Was that contempt in her eyes?

‘Are you asking for my opinion?’

‘Yes!’ he said quickly.  His response was so painfully enthusiastic as to attract glances from some of the passing crew.  He knew no one else on the ship could understand what he may say to her, but he was still mindful of keeping his voice lowered.

‘When one suffers from one’s mistakes,’ she told him, ‘every undertaking must be pursued to correct them.  Do not let haste be the cause of further errors after the first.  After all has been settled, penance should be sought.’  She rattled out her statements as if reciting from memory, then looked at him directly, more acutely.  ‘During my training, I was taught that the ruling class of Koia had no faults and could never err, not because they were perfect, but because no one would admit any different.  A thousand people would be put to death if an error was made in the collection of taxes.  It was easier to reduce the population than admit mistake.  When I look at you, I do not see an emperor, such as I am accustomed.  Neither do I see a warrior.  I see a child in a man’s body, hiding from manhood, from what he is, seeking to avoid responsibility, but I see a child that is inherently good.  If you are really going to be a good emperor—not just an emperor—then you must realise that these people are yours.  You own them, as they own you, and you must accept that fact in order to become a man.  Any harm that comes to them is harm unto yourself.  They are here for you, but you have not yet learnt to be here for them, Emperor Leopold.’

‘So are you saying I have nothing to fear?’

‘No,’ she stated.  ‘I am saying that, from what I can tell, you are a coward, but that you possess the capacity to overcome that weakness.  A Koian emperor would not flee.  A Koian emperor would valiantly go to battle, sending his armies before him to undo his wrongs, while sipping hot tea safely behind the lines.  But you are not a Koian emperor.  You seem to be something better, despite your failings, and for that I am glad.’  Leopold nodded as he mulled over her words.  ‘Now if that is all, I have a question for you,’ she said.

‘What is it?’ he asked, looking back to her.

‘Phoenix and the others—are they truly alive?’

‘Yes,’ he said.  ‘At least, they were when I last saw them.’

Kali nodded.  ‘Then we will save them.’

And with that she picked up her bucket and left him.

***

‘Take the ship close, up the river mouth,’ Salu directed, standing beside them upon the foredeck, flicking the back of his hand in the general direction.

The madman in him had not yet returned, and he appeared as noble as any general or commander, certainly looking more capable than Commander Riggadardian, given that man’s degraded state.

Riggadardian had reappeared from his cabin earlier, unable to find rest.  He made attempts to help them, but inevitably trailed off and sat his rear upon the deck, shaking his head in his hands, incapacitated by his grief.  It appeared he had taken a bump to the head during the attack, and that was not helping to settle the turmoil in his mind.

‘How close?  They will see us,’ Captain Merryweather warned.

‘Have faith, man,’ Salu said gruffly.

They kept the Farstride heading straight up the inlet towards the hub of the city on its eastern shore.  Somehow, none of the tiny fishing boats or soldier-bristling warships saw them.  They sailed straight past as the vessels rushed out to sea.

The sun had dawned, rising over the distant mountains and, as they neared the palace, the burning sphere appeared as if set upon the apex of one of the narrow spires that decorated the palace roof.

‘The great ships were once forged along these banks,’ Kali informed them.  ‘The Eudans have not dredged since they took over, but the river still runs deep right to the palace.’

They kept going and brought their vessel to bear within sight of the long walls that ran around its perimeter.  The landing site had long since been destroyed, and only great logs that had once formed the foundations could still be seen, wavering like ghosts beneath the water.

As they skilfully manoeuvred the enormous vessel into place, Leopold could not help but marvel at the change that had overcome Salu.  In his present alert state, he seemed twenty years younger at least.

‘What has happened to you, old man?’ he asked.

The pale-eyed magician turned slowly to give his gruff reply. ‘Nothing has happened.  No one else is capable of getting us out of this sorry situation, so I am forced to act.’

‘So you are not as mad as you seem.  Perhaps that is why Toby seems to like you?’

‘Toby?’  He then followed Leopold’s gaze to the small boy tiptoeing along an edge, balancing with his hands on his head.  ‘Oh, him.  I don’t know why he follows me.  Perhaps it is because we both are open to the world.  He seems to enjoy my company.’

‘Open?’

Salu’s piercing gaze locked onto Leopold, glaring out from beneath his thick, white brows and penetrating him.  ‘Most people are barely alive.  They function as if they’re half asleep, never seeing the details in their surrounds, closed to stimulation.  Only children observe the world to full capacity, with a sense of wonderment, absorbing every skerrick of information.  Adults spend their years learning to ignore such things, concentrating instead on the banal.  Travelling can help undo some of this clog, opening the eyes, the ears, the senses.  I like to think of myself as a traveller.  Perhaps he does, too,’ he added, nodding towards Toby.  ‘He is on a voyage of discovery; a mind soaking up every sensation it can possibly gather, learning the way of the world.’

‘So you have heard everything we say?’

‘No.  I ignore you as best I can while I listen to things more important, in the distance or near to my ear, seeking things huge and things miniscule that might otherwise go unnoticed, discovering the beauties of existence.  I often get lost in my wanderings.  Sometimes, it is harder to find the way back, but I have managed to do so this time, given the need is strong.’

‘How long will you stay?’  Leopold asked him.

‘I suppose that depends on how long this all remains interesting.  Now stop bothering me, it is time to go.’

The away team readied themselves, for Kali had identified their point of entrance, a massive rounded sewer pipe that poured into the river.  It ran underground beneath the palace walls and would get them into the heart of the grounds, perhaps into the dungeons themselves where any captives would be held.  Crewmen pushed a long plank directly out to it.  It was much too high to be accessed from the river, but the deck of the Farstride was just the right height to reach it.

‘I don’t like the look of that,’ Leopold said, glancing towards the pipe’s entrance.

‘I don’t like the smell of it, but we’re going anyway,’ Daneel replied.

Leopold sniffed the air, and sure enough some offensive odour was exuding from the pipe.  Rusty brown water poured steadily from its end.  Leopold scrunched up his nose at the thought of what it may contain.

Daneel went over first with six of his men, three bearing lanterns.  Leopold recognised a couple of them as Daneel’s personal guards—the ones who had disposed of Tulan’s body long ago in Cintar.

A tiny crack of worry appeared in Leopold’s mind, for once within the pipes, he would be entirely at their mercy.  Those men would do anything Daneel told them, emperor or not.  His only solace was that Kali was coming.  Given her abilities, he hoped she would side with him if needed.

Kali and her sisters—Eagle, Storm and Destiny—followed, wearing matching blouses and trousers designed to allow them total freedom of movement.  They wore light, black shoes, little more than cloth wrapped around their feet and tied with laces.  Their hair was tied tightly away from their faces and bound up out of the way.  They crossed lightly and easily, with the dexterity of cats on a fence top.  Each one looked primed for battle, determined, almost angry, and Leopold felt sorry for whichever Eudan they came across first.

Leopold followed the women, nervous as the plank bounced with his steps.  Salu came last, showing none of the caution that the others had exercised whilst crossing the gap.  He shuffled along and appeared to stay on it by sheer luck—although they all knew enough by now to realise that was not the case.

The men on the ship were drawing back the plank, when the tiny figure of Toby came running across it, climbing while their backs were turned and bolting across before they noticed, leaping from its tip and landing with a gleeful splash beside the landing party.

‘No, Toby!’ Leopold told him, scolding him like a wayward puppy.

Daneel tried to catch the boy, but he weaved around the man, hiding between Salu’s legs.

‘Come here, you little devil,’ the one-eyed man said with tested patience, but Salu raised a hand, then put it fondly on the boy’s head.

‘I guess that means he’s coming,’ Daneel said.  ‘You’d better mind after him,’ he told Salu, who showed no sign of hearing him.

Iron bars blocked their entrance, but Daneel’s men had already tied a dozen sturdy ropes to them and now threw the other ends back to the ship.

‘Can you not open it, Salu?’ Leopold asked.

‘Let the soldiers do their work,’ was his grumbled reply.  ‘They are keen to display their genius and their task is almost done.’

‘Release!’ one of Daneel’s men called once the knots were firm.

‘Let go anchor!’ Captain Merryweather called in response, standing upon the ship.

Leopold was still trying to figure out how they were going to open the barrier, when the Farstride’s far anchor pounded into the river.  As the anchor descended, the slack in the ropes disappeared across the deck.  They drew tight at the last instant and with a deafening clang, one side of the cylindrical mesh in front of them was pulled out of place, cracking it from its housing.  Any more slack in the rope and it would have achieved nothing, any more and the barrier would have come flying out into their faces.  It had all been closely measured and calculated with marvellous precision.

‘Good job,’ Daneel said, patting his man on the back.  He was first to slip through the crack.

‘Won’t they hear all that ruckus?’ Leopold asked.

‘Let them look over their walls,’ Daneel replied.  ‘All they will see is the river.  No one has noticed us until this point and I trust the old goat’s magic will keep it that way.’

A grunt issued from Salu, but looking towards him, it seemed coincidental rather than caused by any lack of civility on Daneel’s part.

The soldiers squeezed through next—only just fitting through with their leather chestplates on—followed by the lithe Koian women and Leopold, with Salu and Toby coming through last.

Once through, the old man examined the warped bars, exploring their surfaces with his hands.  He grasped one firmly and stroked it within his palm, eyes closed, immersed in the sensations upon his skin.  With a sudden wrenching movement he twisted the whole bar free, letting a reverberating clamour echo down the tunnel.

The bar was kinked in the middle, and Salu ran his hand down the length of it, straightening it in one smooth motion, giving him no more resistance than a coil of rope.  He marched after the others, using it to aid his walking.  Each time it struck the ground, a solid clump shuddered along the pipe.  It was thick enough so that Leopold would need two hands just to get his fingers around the thing.  He doubted if he could even pick it up, yet Salu strode along nonchalantly, ignorant of the burden in his hands.

The Turian soldiers let their lanterns light the way, Kali beside them acting as guide.  Inwards they ventured, splashing up to their ankles in wastewater.

They moved quickly, breaking into a trot more often than not, and whenever Leopold looked over his shoulder, old Salu was never far behind, never hurried.  He was always one corner behind them, moving along in the enfolding darkness, aided by his rod of steel, with Toby dancing about him like a little demon in the darkness.  The old man’s pupils reflected the lamplight, silver rings hovering through the dark.

They stopped at a junction while Kali gained her bearings and discussed their route with her sisters.

Salu caught up to them.  ‘Leopold,’ he beckoned, and as the Emperor turned, the old man prodded him sharply in the neck with his forefinger.

Leopold was stunned with pain and surprise,  and Salu followed the motion with a series of solid pokes to his ribs and stomach, seizing his elbows and thrusting his thumb deep into the joints, squeezing his fingers deep into his loins, finishing with a sudden brush of his knuckles down Leopold’s spine.  Leopold would have screamed if he was not already paralysed by the pain.  He would have fallen, for he could no longer move to maintain balance, but the old man’s final act was to grab him and enfold him in a crushing hug, lifting his boots out of the water.

Held within the fierce embrace, Leopold panicked.  He could not breath, he could not move.  He felt his life trickling out of him.  He fought for release, but as he made his futile efforts the pain subsided and a sublime feeling of peacefulness filled its place.  Salu set him gently to his feet, and Leopold took a deep breath and sighed.

Everyone was staring and Leopold wanted to say something in response, to describe how he felt, but he dare not interrupt the heavenly feeling coursing through his veins.  He felt light, powerful, taut as a spring.  He was alert, and his muscles felt primed for action, yet relaxed.  He just felt ready for anything and his mind was stimulated, alive with sensation.

‘What did you do?’  Leopold’s voice was a whisper, full of awe.  ‘Was it magic?’

‘It is not magic,’ Kali answered before the old man could speak.  She was staring at Leopold, captivated.  ‘He has opened your vital channels.  It is a way to improve one’s strength, speed, reactions ... everything; but it is only temporary.  I thought I knew all there was to know about such things ...’  She shook her head.  ‘The old man has shamed me, shamed our clan for our ignorance.  I cannot conceive of how he did it.  Take heed, sisters.’

‘Fascinating,’ one of the women whispered.

‘The world will need you once this is done, young Emperor,’ Salu said.  ‘We can’t be expected to mother you forever.  I hope this assistance will see you through what awaits ahead.  After that, you can take care of yourself.’

He retrieved his rod from where he had impaled it into the floor.  No one but he would have been able to remove it.

‘Leopold, are you all right?’ Daneel asked, for he and his men could only observe what was happening, unable to understand what was being said.

‘I’m fine,’ Leopold responded, feeling native Turian passing across his lips.  ‘I just ...’  He trailed off, not quite able to find the words.

Daneel leaned closer to him.  ‘You look so strange.  Can you go on?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ Leopold confirmed with an enthusiastic smile.  ‘I would not have it any other way.’

Daneel raised the eyebrow above his patch, then stepped aside to let the eager young Emperor on his way.

They soon came to another set of bars.  Kali and her sisters huddled in a circle, while Daneel and his men scratched their heads, trying to resolve the quandary of this latest obstacle.  Without hesitation, Salu shuffled past them and grabbed the bars and folded them aside, snapping them away from their ends like nothing more than dry brushwood.

‘Why did you not do that the first time and save us all the effort, old man?’ Daneel asked him.

Salu smiled like a mischievous child, eyes squeezed tight.  ‘Time is short, but you looked so contented playing with your ropes ... how could I interrupt a mastermind at work?’

They left the rounded tunnels and were now in square, bricked passages.  The smell was no less putrid, but at least there were ledges where they could step up and out of the muck.  Although, Leopold was the only one bothered to do this—everyone else carried on along the centre of the passage, in too much of a hurry or uncaring of what they walked in.  By now they were all already saturated in it up to their knees, so he supposed it made little difference.

Kali hesitated after a short distance, looking questioningly at the walls, while Daneel and his men waited impatiently behind her.

‘It’s no use,’ she said finally.  ‘I recalled the directions perfectly, but the way is not correct.  There should be a passage.’

‘Did she forget which way to bring us?’ one of Daneel’s men asked, looking to Leopold.

‘Tell your man to hold his tongue,’ she said, glaring at the man, knowing his discontent by his tone.  ‘The directions given to me were flawed.  There should be a way through this wall.’

‘She is right,’ agreed Eagle, the shortest of the women.

‘I can see the way,’ Salu declared.

He speared his rod into the floor once more and approached the wall, rubbing his palms together briskly.  The others backed away cautiously.

He placed the flat of his hands against the stone.  With one gentle shove the brickwork collapsed.  Left in its absence was a broken archway in the stone and rising dust.

The echoes of hurried footsteps approached along the tunnel.

‘They have found us!’ Daneel said.

‘Hurry,’ Salu implored, stepping through the newly formed doorway.  They followed after him, Toby skipping through last.  ‘The lanterns,’ he grumbled.

The Turian soldiers did as they were told, extinguishing their lights.  A dozen Eudans trundled by carrying lamps of their own, passing by the freshly made hole without so much as slowing.

The passage they now explored appeared in frequent use, judging from the lit oil burners along the walls.  They set their lanterns down for good, freeing Daneel’s men to better wield their swords.

On they forged, treading the dank tunnels until coming to a large square chamber.  It was tiled from ceiling to floor in emerald green, a raised circular platform at its middle.  Against the far wall loomed a sculpture, a rapturous feminine figure larger than life.  She was cut from the same polished green stone, sitting cross-legged and naked, and with a hundred or more arms snaking out from her sides and behind her back to cover the wall.  Around her head was a halo of golden fire, made from jewels and stained glass.

‘What is this place?’ Daneel asked.

‘This is where Prithamon communes with his sorcerers,’ Kali replied, not needing to understand his words to understand the tone of them.  ‘It is their temple.’

‘The Temple of Shadows,’ Leopold whispered.  ‘It is supposed to hold all the relics and knowledge of the Circle of Eyes.’

‘Well, it’s empty now,’ Daneel said, ‘except for this statue.  I must say, I can’t fault their choice of artwork.’  He paced around the statue, appreciating the fusing of the alluring female form with the multitude of limbs.

‘We are honoured to be here,’ the Koian woman Destiny stated, transfixed.  ‘This temple is sacred, forbidden to all except Empress Moon and the servants of our god.  We should make an offering.’

‘There is no need for that, sister,’ Kali told her.  ‘We can pay our respects once our duty is done.  And this place can no longer be considered holy—the Eudans have desecrated its divine sanctity.  This abomination does not belong.  Many ceremonies will be required to cleanse it of this Eudan filth.’

Salu had wandered closest to the statue and was staring up at it.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bracelet he had taken from the dead sorcerer.  He held it up, comparing it to the others in view.  Some of the statue’s arms wore the same solid red and gold band—like an oversized, flattened ring with alternating coloured segments.

Daneel reached up to grasp one.  ‘What are these used for?’

‘Mischief,’ was Salu’s reply.

Heeding the old man’s warning, the one-eyed man withdrew his hand, while Salu shoved his trinket back into his pocket and tottered towards the far door.

‘Should we destroy it?’ Leopold asked.

‘No,’ Daneel said.  ‘If the old goat feels we have more pressing matters to see to, I have to agree.  Come.’

They followed Salu into the next dingy, subterranean hall.  It was wide enough for them all to walk abreast if they so desired, marked with doors on either side and continuing ahead for a hundred paces.  But they did not need to go far until Kali spotted what they were seeking.

‘It is here!’ she announced in a whisper as they came before a sturdy, rounded door.  ‘The entrance to the dungeon.’

‘Yes,’ said Storm.  ‘We have found it.’

Her hand had only reached for the latch when a booming echo interrupted her.  A door opened at the far end of the hall and Eudan guards pushed inwards.

‘They’re here!’ came a shout, and the dark-skinned men continued pouring through, shouting and readying their weapons.

Kali and her sisters sprang away silently, charging towards the Eudans and leaving Daneel and his team flat-footed by the dungeon door.

‘Go!’ Daneel said, and his men followed after, unsheathing their swords as they ran.

‘What shall we do?’ Leopold asked with worry.

Daneel opened the dungeon door and examined the revealed passage.  It took an instant for him to draw back his head.  ‘Too dark, too narrow.  We stay here and fight.  Leopold?’

‘Yes?’ the young Emperor answered, lightheaded.

‘Ready your sword.’

Leopold swallowed and drew his weapon.  It hissed as it came, then the blade sang a harmonious note as its tip slid free.  The sound chimed in his head, tickling behind his eyes, and together with the jubilant feeling that Salu had infused within him, he had never felt readier to go to battle.

‘Stay here,’ Salu told Toby, for the four of them were the only ones remaining.

Toby looked at him with curious wonder, as if a mushroom had just grown out from the top of the old man’s head.  Salu then turned and trod steadfastly towards the fray, slamming down his rod with each step.

The battle at the end of the hall was in full swing and the noises and screams were loud and echoing, bouncing between the gloomy walls.  Kali and the others were already outnumbered ten to one as the stream of Koians coming in through the door proceeded unabated.  A dozen Eudans had slipped away and were charging down the passage towards Leopold.

‘Let’s go,’ Daneel told Leopold, drawing his own slender weapon.  ‘And stay with me.’

They ran side by side, but as Leopold moved he found himself unable to stop his legs’ continued acceleration.  He felt weightless upon them, empowered by Salu’s efforts, and his sword was a sliver of sunlight in his hand.  He edged away from Daneel, gathering speed, and whipped past Salu, laughing wildly as he closed upon the Eudans like the wind.

He raised his blade, and the charging Eudans faltered.  Their faces filled with confusion, then fear.  Some turned and ran, then the lot of them followed, fleeing from the lone figure of Leopold who came shouting and roaring behind them.

Leopold laughed again, dizzy with power, until he realised it was not he who had startled the terrified Eudans.  Something powerful was rattling the floor.  The stones shook beneath his feet, a different tempo to his own, drowning out the slapping of his footsteps with a calamitous, approaching thunder.

Leopold was wondering what could be the cause when Salu bound past him.  The old man’s feet shattered each stone beneath them, speeding him along like a furious juggernaut.  A deafening bellow erupted from his mouth as he leapt upon the back of the Eudans.  Five of them flew into the air at the first stroke of his rod, and more were dashed aside with each swing.

Daneel was far behind when Leopold caught up to the old man.  The Emperor slid his sword into the body of a Eudan with precious little effort and was away again before the soldier hit the ground.  Avoiding the chaotic swings of Salu, Leopold continued on, rushing to help Kali and the rest.

They were buried amongst a clot of Eudans and Leopold came at their backs, felling three of the enemy before they noticed him.  Swords flew, and he was a tuft of dandelion upon the breeze.  When they waved their blades towards him, he flowed around the sharpened edges like an eddy in the wind.  He followed the currents on the air, dishing out swift strokes in return.  He slapped red ink across the tapestry of Eudan men with the narrow brush of his sword, parting their tender flesh to release the brilliant colour inside, crafting a portrait of carnage.  His sword held him firmly by the hand and guided him amongst the battle like an experienced lover.  Leopold simply followed the dance of the blade.  He moved where it led him, stepped where it wanted, dictating death with minute gestures of his wrist.

He saw only snippets of time in what must have been minutes: Kali looking at him with wild wonder; her hair tumbled around her face, her supple body moving and shifting, no weapon in her hands as she cracked bone and ruptured organs with beautiful, caressing movements; Storm lying dead at Kali’s feet, two swords crossing through her middle, her eyes locked to the ceiling, an expression of wonder trapped on her visage; Daneel’s men beside her, covered in blood that should have been in their veins; Daneel’s single, bulging eye as he hollered into Leopold’s ear, but Leopold could not stand still long enough for those words to be heard.  He ducked aside and let them whip past his skin as if they too were deadly, sharpened weapons.

Salu came amongst them, folding men around his staff, their bodies bending in half as he caved in their ribs, shattered their backs and flicked what remained away.  Far behind, by the dungeon door, a small boy stood waiting and watching, mirthful at the scene of destruction.

Time caught up with him and Leopold realised he was standing still, panting for breath.  Few people remained upright amidst the piles of the dead.

‘No!  No!  Demons, leave us be!’ cried a surviving Eudan.

He and one other cowered in the dim corner, holding up their palms in surrender.

Salu leaned over them, his wide form all but obscuring them from view.  Slowly, he raised his rod and pressed it in upon them; deliberately, forcefully twisting its haft.  One Eudan commenced screaming, a high-pitched, terrible noise of absolute fear, then it broke and he too was quiet.

When Salu turned, there was no emotion on his face.  Leopold did not dare attempt to see what remained behind him.

‘There is little time remaining,’ the old magician stated and his busy stride returned him to Toby and the dungeon door.

Daneel lived, showered in blood.  Only two of his men had likewise survived, and both were wounded.  Kali, Eagle and Destiny were relatively free of the blood that so covered the men.  Evidently, fighting barehanded had its benefits in that regard.

Leopold was red from neck to toe.  Blood gathered on the tip of his nose, forming a bulb, ready to drip.  Despite his enhanced reflexes, he had not been able to evade the copious streams of blood he released.  His skin was sticky and wet.

‘Gods, Leopold!’ Daneel said in an awed whisper.  ‘You move like a man possessed!’

‘I ... I think it’s over.’  Leopold’s hands tingled and the sensation grew along his arms and up from his feet.

‘Careful, Leopold,’ Kali warned him, gathering her hair from her face and retying it.  ‘You may feel invincible, but it is not so.  You can be cut as easily as always.  The effect is strong at first, but it wears off quickly.’

He nodded dumbly.  He was a stranger in his own body, riding within a carriage of flesh, distant and disjointed.

‘Quickly!’ echoed Salu’s command.

They hurried to catch up with the man, leaving their fallen behind by the doorway.  They followed Salu into the darkness beyond the dungeon door.

‘Hold up!’ called one of the injured Turians.  He was unsteady on his feet, pallid in the face.  ‘I don’t think I can go on.’

‘Wait here,’ Daneel replied.  ‘Brin, you wait with him,’ he told the other fellow, the last of his men.  ‘We’ll be back.’

They had to hurry to catch up with Salu, for the old man gathered speed, as he made his way down the steps, increasing in urgency.

The tunnel led to circular stairs that curled in the dark.  By the time they reached him, the iron door at the bottom was already twisted out of the way and Salu was standing amidst the gloom.  A handful of smoky oil burners were lit in the next chamber.  The air was thick with their stench.

Chained upon the floor were the survivors: Captain Orrell, one of his men, Lady Wind, Phoenix and three Koian warrior women.  They were too frail to do more than lift their heads.  Many were missing, but the most conspicuous absences were Lord Samuel and Jessicah.

‘Captain,’ Daneel said, dashing to the man’s side.  Likewise, Kali and her sisters hurried to the women.

‘What’s wrong with them?’ Leopold asked of Salu, for the group was nonresponsive, awake yet immobile.

Toby came skipping down the stairs, looking curiously into the room.

‘Too much hogwurt,’ Salu responded gruffly.  ‘It can be fatal in large doses.  These ones have been lucky.’

The old man went up to Orrell and, bending to one knee, flicked open the manacles.  He put his palm to the captain’s brow and rubbed gently, not seeming to notice that he was spreading grime upon the man.  Captain Orrell took a gulping breath, his eyes opened wide as if startled from a nightmare.  Salu wasted no time in going about the room and reviving the others.

‘David,’ Daneel said, holding the captain’s arm to reassure him.  ‘Are you all right?’

‘There was nothing we could do,’ Orrell whispered, barely coherent, staring vacantly ahead.  ‘My men fought well, but did not awaken from the gas.’

‘Where is Samuel?  And Jessicah?’ Daneel asked, for it seemed the Eudans had taken away the dead.

Orrell shook his head.  ‘I don’t know.  They were not here when I awoke.’

‘They both live,’ Salu called from his task of freeing the Koian women.  ‘We will see to them next.’

The captain fought to his feet, wobbly and unsure.  Daneel helped him, and when he was finally upright, there was some semblance of his former self in his visage once again.

‘I won’t let them hurt her,’ he declared.

‘Captain Orrell.  Daneel,’ said Lady Wind, coming to their side.  She was less addled than the captain, but had seen better days.  ‘No one is in any state to do anything.  You least of all, Captain.  We need to escape and rest, formulate a plan.’

‘I will not go back.’  Orrell’s strength was returning with every breath, yet his words were a facade of pride and bravado.

‘Come!’ Salu called impatiently, and he was already starting back up the stairs.

The battle weary group followed after him, tracking up the curling stairs and re-entering the hall, much to the relief of the two waiting injured men.  Toby commenced tickling them on sight, despite their angry protests.

‘This way,’ Salu announced, continuing towards the far door with bodies piled before it.  ‘Time is short.’

‘Daneel,’ Captain Orrell said, his voice thin.  Climbing the stairs had been a struggle.  ‘How did you get here?  I assume we are somewhere under the palace.’

‘Apparently so,’ Daneel replied.  ‘We came from the river.  Kali knows the way.’

‘Good.  Then go back.  Take everyone with you.  I will follow Salu and see this through to the end.’  Daneel went to object but the captain would have none of it.  ‘Go!’ he said, before Daneel could retort.  ‘Pick up that boy and take him with you,’ he said with disgust, for Toby was prancing around their legs, enjoying himself immensely.

Daneel nodded solemnly, then scooped up the boy and draped him over his shoulder.

‘Good luck, Captain,’ Lady Wind said.

Their group started away with Kali at the lead.  Captain Orrell strode in the opposite direction, tracing Salu’s steps, leaving Leopold alone in the middle.

He wondered if he had the strength to do the impossible, the foolhardy, and go with him.  It was the right thing to do, yet he felt an almost irresistible urge to flee back to the ship with the others and helplessly await his fate.

‘Captain Orrell!  Wait!’ he cried, summoning his courage.  The man paused for him to catch up.  ‘I will come too.’  Orrell eyed him warily.  ‘This is my crusade, my responsibility.  I ran before, but I will not run now.  If we do not succeed, then there is nowhere else to run to.  I will not go back to the ship defeated.  I will not let more good people die on my behalf.’

Orrell simply nodded and continued on his way, giving away no clue as to knowing of Leopold’s failings.

Lady Wind’s group had also paused and Leopold took the opportunity to jog back to them.  He needed to say something in his defence before going to his death.

‘I am sorry for abandoning you,’ he said to the survivors.  ‘I will not do it again.’

‘Well done, young Emperor,’ Phoenix replied, pain in her voice.  ‘You go to either a courageous death or a miraculous triumph, both honourable fates.’

Leopold nodded to her in reply, feeling the drying blood flaking from his neck as he moved.  He turned to Kali to receive advice, hoping for some kind words or reassurance, but her emotions were hidden.  Her face was blank, an expressionless slate to match any magician’s.

‘Emperor Leopold.’  It was Lady Wind who spoke.  ‘I wish you good fortune.’

‘Thank you, My Lady,’ he responded.

‘Well done, young champion,’ said Daneel.  ‘I didn’t think you had it in you, but you’ve proved me wrong.’

‘Goodbye,’ were Leopold’s final words to them all.  He could not add anything further to suit the situation, so he left it at that.

The haggard group turned to be on their way, leaving Leopold to chase after Salu and the captain.

Salu had already disappeared out of the hall, but Leopold caught Captain Orrell in the last few steps before the doorway.

The staunch man gave Leopold a level look, one last chance for reprieve, one final opportunity for Leopold to change his mind.

‘Let’s go,’ Leopold told him firmly.

Someone called to them then, a voice issuing from a narrow, unassuming door to the side of the chamber.

‘What noises are these I hear?  Who creates a clamour and cacophony?  Who raises such a boisterous din outside my home and disturbs my slumber?’  It was the voice of an elderly woman.  ‘Someone murders my keepers.  Someone chatters like the monkeys, speaking not Eudan nor Koian.  What strangers cause this hubbub?’

Leopold hurried to the door and pulled on its rusted handle.  ‘It’s locked.  Captain, can you open it?’

‘Who is it?’ the man called through the single narrow slat in the door, not able to understand the woman’s Koian words.  He was unhappy with the interruption and glanced towards the chamber exit impatiently.

The woman did not reply.

‘I do not know,’ answered Leopold.

‘She’s better off where she is for the time being,’ Orrell professed.  ‘Leave her be and she can be saved in good time.  We have other tasks to attend to.’

Leopold went to object, then realised the good sense of the man’s words.  ‘We will come back for you,’ he said, speaking into the narrow door.  ‘Who are you?’

‘Now you speak my tongue as if born here, except for your brazen choice of words,’ crackled the voice from inside the cell.  ‘I am Empress Moon.  Leave me here then, in my sanctuary of darkness and regret.  I am ruler of all things within these walls ... the dirt and the dust and the darkness.  Perhaps one day I shall walk out through that door.  But what strange world of light and smells would await me?  I cannot say, I cannot say ...’

‘We will be back,’ Leopold repeated, unsure of what else to tell her.

‘All I know is the dark …’ the woman continued to mutter.

Leopold left her, following the captain.  They moved along quickly, out of the hall and through the passages, spying Salu not far ahead.  He must have slowed to allow them to catch up, for no sooner had they reached him than he accelerated away again.  The old man’s feet leapt like a deer’s, and he only grew nimbler as they climbed each level, impatient to reach their goal.

An occasional Koian guard waited in the passages, but offered no more an obstacle than a strand of spider web stretched across the passage.  Salu slapped them all down with a flick of his rod.  No more than one strike was needed, for the heavy bar stove in their skulls like cracked eggs.  Raised swords did nothing to delay him.  Raised hands did not sway his heart.  Locked and barred doors fell just as easily, barely slowing his cracking pace.

‘There is surprisingly little resistance,’ Leopold noted.

‘They draw us out into the open,’ Captain Orrell responded in front.

‘And we shall meet them with a vengeance!’ roared Salu, surprising the both of them with his ferocity.  The man was fired up for the occasion.

They broke out into sunlight, coming up a final length of stairs that opened into the side of a small courtyard, far from the river.  There was no one in sight.  Only the beating of drums sounded from afar, and it was towards these that Salu led them.  He seemed on the verge of fury, smashing stone columns and ornaments to pieces as he passed, grunting with rage.

They raced across gravelly paths and gardened spaces, through rooms and halls and across narrow waterways.  All the while, not a soul was seen.

Following a long wall, they turned through an opening and found themselves at the side of the first great entrance court of the palace.  The drumming stopped at once.

The scene that awaited halted all three in their tracks.  The space was filled with Eudan soldiers, just as it was when they had first met Pradmet.  In addition, there were sorcerers—at least fifty of them—spaced evenly in front of the men; barechested, baldheaded men every one, slatted black skirts obscuring their legs.

To the left, at the top of the courtyard steps, a throne had been placed, and Pradmet sat upon it, complete with his plumed hat.  Prithamon and Jessicah stood next to him and a hundred drummers were behind them, busy filing away up the stairs now their task was done, carrying their drums with them.

A further addition to the courtyard stuck out: a flat slab of stone had been placed directly in the middle.  Everyone was spaced away from it, and the reason was perfectly clear.  Upon the slab lay Samuel, chained down in his black robes, shaking and in turmoil as he struggled to contain his demons.  Mage-fire ran from him like boiling syrup and it fell from the altar’s edges in slathers and gathered around its base, contorting the air with its vaporous presence.  Purple tendrils of power lashed out, snapping at the stones and searing them with a savage heat.

Looking towards the throne, ‘Jessicah!’ Captain Orrell cried out, and he would have rushed forward if not for Salu’s arm held out to stop him.

It was too far to make out her expression, but she remained still and quiet between Pradmet and Prithamon, with lines of soldiers stretching below them on the steps.

The young Emperor, the veteran soldier and the old magician waited there, gazing at the thousands that surrounded them.  Leopold took one longing glance at the path behind them, briefly considering taking flight from the battleground, but he knew it would be of little use.  He returned his attention to where it should be, alongside Captain Orrell and Salu, and he drew his sword defiantly and readied himself for battle.

He could not tell if Salu’s gift was still aiding him or not, for he no longer felt imbued with dizzying power.  On the other hand, he was not nearly as afraid as he should be—perhaps because of the hopelessness of it all.  Resolutely, he accepted the fact that here he was going to fight, and here he would probably die, and his nervousness vanished altogether.

‘What say you, old man?’  Captain Orrell scanned the scene, using his years of experience to assess the battlefield.  ‘Can we take them?’

A hidden chain dragged and clanked behind them, and a heavy section of the wall scraped into place, sealing the entrance and removing any option of escape.

‘Of course,’ Salu replied gruffly.

‘Then keep our backs to the wall, one to each direction,’ Orrell instructed.  ‘We hold them as long as we can.’

‘We must do better than that,’ Salu added.  ‘Samuel’s demons nearly have the upper hand.  Keep close to him.  His flames will shield us.  We must defeat these men—and quickly.  ’

‘Defeat them?’ Orrell repeated with disbelief.  He laughed at the thought—laughter filled with madness and grief.  His eyes were red and filled with yearning as he looked towards Jessicah once more.

It seemed their chance for discussion was over and the time for battle was begun, for Pradmet raised one finger—not bothering to lift his hand from his armrest—and his soldiers charged.

Salu bolted forward with Captain Orrell at his side and Leopold at the other.  They made for the altar, and the Eudan soldiers closed in from all sides to meet them, waves crushing in.

Everyone reached the altar at the same time, and with a colossal racket the battle began.  As Salu had presumed, the Eudans did not cross the flaming stonework around Samuel.  They were reluctant to even near it, and that defensive barrier formed a splinter of salvation.

Salu swung his rod as lightly as a wicker twig, and where it met flesh the bodies took flight.  He turned and spun and his weapon clanked and pounded, clearing swaths of vacant space.  More Eudan soldiers flooded in to fill those gaps, a host of sword and spear.

Captain Orrell was deadly, dropping the Eudans one at a time with every stroke.  He fought without finesse or elegance; chopping and hacking, parrying, chopping and slicing again.  He yelled all the while, laughing hysterically through a mask of blood.  The Captain Orrell of old was gone, replaced by this desperate, raging madman.

Leopold barely had time to think, and he dearly wished for Salu’s empowerment to return.  It did not, and he had to make each combat decision himself, struggling to remain alive.  Yet, some residual effect had his eye snagging on the openings in his attackers’ defences, had him avoiding the enemy’s attacks as if by chance.  Leopold slid his weapon home time and time again, piercing skin and flesh, driving its tip through vital organs, then plucking his blade free, living to strike again.

The altar behind them was the only thing that kept the Eudans from overwhelming them.  The enemy kept clear of the magical flames, more fearful of Samuel than of the three men currently wreaking havoc upon them.  Still, the odds were insurmountable; the sheer volume of the Eudans crushing in upon them would soon see them overcome.

Amidst the shouts and turmoil, there was a cry of pain and Captain Orrell fell to one knee, spurting blood from his side.  Adeptly, Leopold ducked away and came to his aid, thrusting the steel of his sword right through the neck of the nearest man who sought to finish him.  Grabbing Orrell’s hand he pulled the man as close to the altar as he dare.  There they sheltered, behind the shielding wall that was Salu, between him and the searing waves of heat.

Shaking and quivering, the captain grabbed Leopold by the collar and forcefully pulled him nearer.  ‘Leopold!’ he hissed.  ‘Promise me ... you’ll save her.’

Leopold nodded, mindful of the hopelessness.  They were surrounded by thousands of men.  Salu could potentially deal with them eventually, but he could not do that and also protect the two of them.  The end seemed unavoidable.  ‘I promise.’

Salu paused from his destruction, glared at the pair, and grunted with discontent.  Not turning his head, he flung out his hand and away his rod of iron flew.  It whistled through the air like an arrow towards Prithamon.  In the last instant it swerved, punching through Pradmet’s throne just beside his head.  It continued out the other side, glancing off the stairs and destroying a good portion of the building behind them.

Pradmet sprawled from his seat and bellowed at Prithamon, shaking his fists; but the magic wielder did not move a muscle, so intently was he focussed upon the battle.  Realising the futility of his efforts, Pradmet patted down his ceremonial garments and reseated himself, indignant at the melon-sized hole beside his ear.

Without his weapon, Leopold feared their fates sealed, but Salu had not finished.  Rather, he was just getting started, for it was at that moment that he called his magic into play.

‘Stay down!’ he roared, and he struck his arms out straight from his body.  With his muscles taut and his fists knotted tightly he spun full circle, and the air shrieked as magic burst upon it.

An invisible knife sliced through the air, and everything at chest height was cleft in two.

The courtyard fell quiet in an instant—all the clattering of weapons, shouting of voices and slapping of sandalled feet—all were hushed in that dreadful instant.

The noises that followed were the meaty thuds of thousands of torsos falling to the stones, and the legs and waists toppling after them.  The fountains of blood spraying across the courtyard were breathtaking in a very literal way, for Leopold’s chest was paralysed by the horror.

The magical spell passed to the edge of the courtyard, and there it stopped where Pradmet’s sorcerers remained on guard.  Perfectly synchronised, they held out their palms and blocked Salu’s spell of destruction in its tracks.  Then, they lowered their hands as one, as if rehearsed to the finest detail.

Long moments later, Leopold realised they were saved, for every Eudan soldier bar one lay dead.  The lone survivor stood upright in the middle of the courtyard, having bent to retrieve his fumbled weapon at the critical moment.  Seeing the slaughter around him—the squirming, gasping bodies; the trembling hands reaching upwards for help as their life-blood poured out—he dropped his weapon again and ran screaming.  He clambered over his countrymen as if they were stepping stones, and disappeared into a far corner where he ducked and hid whimpering.

Captain Orrell had missed the sight, for he was too busy keeping his hands pressed to his wound, with his teeth clenched defiantly as he kneeled in his own blood.  His sword lay by his side, glazed in slippery red fluid.  If any man could staunch his blood loss by sheer willpower alone, it would be the captain, but even his indomitable strength was beginning to wane.

Calmly, efficiently, Salu stepped over and shoved Orrell flat onto his back—the man could not resist.  He put his palm to the injury and growled under his breath.  When he raised his hand again, the wound was gone and the skin was sealed.

‘Now get up,’ Salu demanded with his hand outstretched to assist, his eyes upon the sorcerers surrounding them.

Captain Orrell reached up and took the old magician’s hand.  He climbed to his feet with trepidation, quite unsure of what had just occurred.  He raised his shirt and smeared away his blood as well as he could, searching for the injury underneath, but the skin was whole and unbroken.  He then gazed at the sea of mutilation all around them, and took his turn to be astounded.

‘By the nine gods.  What—’ he began to question, when Pradmet’s raised voice interrupted him.

‘Wonderful!’ He stood from his throne and clapped enthusiastically.  ‘Prithamon, I cannot wait to have this kind of power.  You were right.  With these two we shall have no need of armies!  We should have our generals executed at once for incompetence.’

‘Hmm,’ Salu growled.  ‘Let’s get this mess over with.’  He departed, heading for the stairs, stamping over bodies.  Air issued from the torsos he trod upon, forcing an unfortunate wheeze from each corpse.

‘What about Samuel?’ Leopold called after him.

‘I have to get rid of this intolerable sorcerer first,’ the old man called back.

At the sight of Salu storming towards him, Pradmet backed up, hiding behind his throne.  ‘Prithamon!’ he called with urgency, but the red-robed sorcerer stood without action, waiting for the old man to near.

Orrell picked up his sword and followed, with Leopold doing his best to avoid falling over the corpses beneath his feet.  There was no way to avoid them.

‘Jessicah!’ the captain called up the stairs.  ‘Are you all right?  Please tell me they haven’t hurt you!’

‘I am well, David,’ she called back.  ‘It is wonderful to be free again.’  She did not appear nearly as worried as one would expect; quite amused in fact.

‘Hold there,’ Prithamon called as Salu closed on them, but the old man kept going, intent on granting Prithamon the same violent ending as his subordinate on the Farstride.  ‘Hold, I say, you intolerable man!’ he added, less patience in his voice.

When Salu was only ten steps from them, Prithamon was forced to act, putting this hand around Jessicah’s neck.  She scowled, coughing as the sorcerer’s grasp closed around her throat.  ‘A step closer and the woman dies.’

Still, Salu did not stop, and it was Captain Orrell who finally halted the magician in his stride.

‘Stop, you fool!’ he said, catching up and grasping Salu by the arm.  ‘Are you fast enough to save her?’

Salu stopped, and met the captain’s gaze gravely.  ‘No.’

‘Then stand still, for her sake.’

‘You did not save the boy,’ called Prithamon, appeased now that the threat of Salu had subsided.  He returned his hands to be clasped in front of him, and Jessicah rubbed at her reddened skin, glowering all the while.  ‘It is interesting that you now pause to save this woman.  What strange values you place on life.  I can fathom no sense in it.’

‘Life?’ old Salu repeated, as if the word was a mystery to him.  He looked weary.  Wrinkles crept across his skin.  His chance to reach Prithamon had passed, and now he was spent, becoming a tired old man again.

‘We did save the boy,’ Leopold shouted towards their hosts.  ‘I saved him.  Your sorcerer was already cut in two by then.  He is alive, safe and well upon our ship.’

‘Ah,’ said Prithamon with interest, his raised voice rasping.  ‘So you did save him.  I wondered if there was some reason to such madness.  I must admit I was baffled.’

‘You have no idea what you are doing!  Look at him!’  Leopold pointed to the burning form of Samuel.  ‘He is desperately trying to hold on, but any moment those demons are going to win him over, and then we are all dead!’

‘What nonsense, boy,’ the officious Pradmet replied.  ‘He is simply trying to frighten us.  He only began issuing such fire when we tried to speak some sense to him.’

Leopold was incensed.  ‘When you tried to awaken him, I’d wager.  Well you woke the demons as well.  Let us help him.’

‘It’s true,’ Jessicah admitted.  ‘If you don’t do something, it will be as he says.  The magician is full of evil.’

Pradmet reached over from his throne and gently stroked a lock of her hair before she could flinch away.  ‘If we do as you say,’ he announced, ‘then we will have two magicians to contend with.  Considering what one of them has just accomplished, we would be foolish to comply to such a demand.’

‘You may not have any choice,’ Leopold replied curtly.  Forcing down his frustration, he continued more calmly.  ‘We need to get him back to our ship.  He has a casket there that will quench his demons.  That is the only thing that can save us now.  You must believe me!’

‘You will not be going back to your ship,’ the tall figure of Prithamon said assuredly.

‘Then let us help him,’ Leopold said.  ‘With all your magic, you cannot calm that which rages inside of him.  Let us bring the casket here.  Afterwards, you can talk to him all you like.  We will still be your prisoners.  Take us as hostages.  It does not matter, as long as we can get him in his box.’

‘Do you really think me so foolish?’ Prithamon replied.  ‘He did not hesitate to endanger you before and I doubt he will care about any hostages we may hold.  Your magician cares not for anyone but himself and I can say the same for you, after you fled and left your companions for dead.  Tell him to stop this charade.  Demons indeed!  Demons are just beasts that can be hunted and slain.  I have killed thousands in recent years.’

A loud shattering made them look towards the altar.  Samuel was standing upright and facing them, his feet planted upon both sides of the broken slab, cracked down the middle as it was.  Mage-fire poured from him fiercely, crackling, and the broken chains around his wrists and ankles turned to slag and fell away as they watched on.

‘It’s too late!’ Leopold exclaimed.

‘Not yet,’ Salu whispered.

‘Can you kill the sorcerer?’

Confusion overcame old Salu.  It seemed his addledness was returning.  The fight had all been too much for him.  He turned from Samuel to look at Prithamon, and then looked to Leopold with the hopelessness of a lost child.  ‘Kill him?’

Captain Orrell went to step forward, clenching his sword firmly, but Leopold stopped him.  ‘It won’t be that easy, Captain.  Don’t throw away your life.’

‘Jessicah!’ Orrell called up the stairs.  His hair was wild and set with blood.  His armour was broken, hanging from one shoulder strap, and his clothes torn all over.  ‘Hold on!  We will save you.’

She looked at him with a quizzical expression.  ‘Save me?  Save me from what?  You can’t even save yourselves.’

Leopold noted the hurt in the man’s face.  ‘Don’t worry, Captain, she is not feeling herself.  We will save her, but we must save Lord Samuel first.’

Samuel stepped unsteadily from the slab and came lumbering towards them.  He shambled as if drunken or confused.  His footsteps smashed everything flat beneath them, pulverising stone and snapping bone, making a wandering path of ruin across the already disturbing scene of massacre.  Cracks ran out from his feet in all directions and pitted the ground wherever it could be seen.  Hunks of earth fell, creating deep furrows where the labyrinth of tunnels beneath collapsed.

‘What’s he doing?’  Pradmet’s voice was fraught with worry.  ‘Stop him!’

‘This is part of the ruse,’ Prithamon told him.  ‘He is of the Circle.  Nothing they do can be believed.  You remember Cang and his incessant deceptions.’

‘Gods, Prithamon!’  Pradmet leapt from his chair to tug at the sorcerer’s side.  ‘What they say is true!  Can’t you see it?  Forget about capturing him.  Kill him!’

‘Shut up, you fool!  I will not ruin my greatest prize!’

Pradmet was enraged.  His hat towered over Prithamon, but he was barely three quarters of the man’s height himself.  He stood as tall as he could.  ‘How dare you challenge me?’ he bellowed.

Prithamon was not intimidated in the least.  ‘The Koian god slipped through my fingers and the cache in the Temple of Shadows only made up for some of that disappointment.  With these two added to my collection, I can put that loss behind me.  I shall have domain over the world.’

‘You are mad!’ Pradmet declared.  ‘Kill him!  Kill him now!’  He had no sooner finished his words than he gave a short squeal.  Clutching at his throat his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground in an ugly heap upon himself.

‘And you are useless,’ Prithamon stated calmly.  ‘Your death is small compensation for putting up with you.  I had been planning something more satisfying, but that will have to do.’  He turned his attention to Samuel, still staggering towards them.  ‘Give this up, Magician!’ he called.  ‘We do not have to fight!  Stop this charade.  Let us speak like gentlemen.’  He waited for a response, but Samuel kept coming; slowly, relentless, like one of the walking dead.  ‘Ah.  Very well.  Let us do it your way.’

The sorcerers, waiting in the sidelines, sprang into action, leaping in as if upon wings.  Samuel turned his head and a cone of fire erupted from his mouth.  Sorcerers darted aside.  Three fell to the ground as smouldering corpses.

Wiping the dripping flames from his chin, Samuel followed the sorcerers with his gaze.  They hovered and flew, assailing him with spells from all directions.  He replied with magic of his own.  One sorcerer fell limp; another folded in half, backwards at the hip; a third hurtled into the wall with a thud and a crackle of bones.  All the while, the billowing shroud of fire around Samuel expanded, forming hornlike appendages above him, growing ghostly limbs beside.  A burning shape gathered about him.

The Eudan sorcerers continued their attack, yet all it accomplished was to delay his forward movement.

As the sorcerers were steadily whittled away, Prithamon’s confidence waned and his worry increased.

It was Jessicah who sidled up to him.  ‘I will stop him for you, sorcerer.  I will soothe the beasts in his head and then you can do as you wish with him.  In return, I just ask that you give me him.’  She pointed to Leopold.  ‘I would accept that token as my prize.’

Captain Orrell followed her gesture to Leopold with disbelief.  ‘Leopold.  What is she talking about?’

Leopold did his best to allay the man’s concern.  ‘Don’t worry, Captain, I can explain later.  We need to get out of here alive first.’

‘Very well,’ Prithamon agreed, accepting the woman’s offer.  ‘It seems I cannot defeat your magician as he is.  Let him wear this—’  He produced a red-and-gold band from his pocket. ‘—and your wish is granted.’

She took it gladly and commenced ceremoniously down the stairs.  She passed Captain Orrell, Leopold and Salu without so much as a passing glance.

‘Jessicah.  Jessicah!’ the captain beckoned to her, but her attention was on the magician.

‘Samuel!’ she called.  ‘Stop it, Samuel!’

On hearing her voice, Samuel’s head snapped towards her.  Mirroring his movement in titanic slow motion, the enormous shape around him turned and followed.  The magician’s eyes were two brilliant white points of light amidst an orange-red cloud of fire.  In his black robes he resembled a rock of coal at the centre of that billowing inferno.

He followed her progress as she neared, holding Prithamon’s bracelet towards him.

‘This is the best way, Samuel.  Put it on and your demons will be subdued.  We have no other way to calm them.  Come, Samuel.  You know I am right.  Take this and it will all be over.  It will end the pain.’

‘Jessicaaaah ...’  The words came shambling from his mouth.

‘Calm yourself, Samuel!’ she called.  ‘Do as I say.  It will not hurt you.’  With each step nearer to him, his burning aura diminished, retreating before her footsteps.  ‘Put this on.  It will help you regain control of yourself.  It will soothe your savage heart and quell the voices in your head.’

The fire around Samuel died down to almost a simmer as Rei came to a halt before him, in all her sultry glory.

There was no mistaking the way she stood, the way she moved.  Jessicah was gone, and the eternal Witch Queen was in control—for how long could not be known.

She and Samuel stood face to face, within arm’s reach of each other.  He reached out to take what she offered, dangling from the tip of her finger.  He grasped the band and drew it back, studying it closely, not fully understanding—a child with a rainbow in his palm.

There was no mistaking the satisfied smile on Rei’s lips.

‘What will happen?’ Leopold asked, but old Salu could only shake his head in bewilderment.

The old man looked from contented Prithamon to Samuel, rubbing at his face with confusion.  ‘I ... I don’t know what to do.’

‘Wear it, Magician,’ Prithamon called down from his perch upon the stairs.  ‘This gift must be accepted willingly.  Put it on.  Only then can we speak as equals.’

‘I cannot allow this,’ Salu said, refocussing his wits.  He passed his eyes over the countless corpses, to the streams of blood gathering and running down into the gutters at the foot of each wall, at the trail of mashed flesh behind Samuel.  ‘Look at all the horror I have wrought,’ he gasped.  Dismayed, he surveying the bloodied courtyard.  He looked at his weathered, bloodsoaked hands and as he did he hunched over, completing the transformation into a stooped-over old man once again.  His voice was hoarse and weary.  ‘Look what I have become.  A taker of life.  A monster ... a demon ... no—worse than that.  I never wanted any part in this world, but I was forced into it.  I could have done wonders!  I could have born stars!’  He grabbed hold of Leopold fiercely, taking him by surprise.  ‘This is not the right way, Leopold!  Only by stepping into the void can we rid ourselves of these demons.  This struggle cannot continue or it will be the end of us all!’

He had something tight in his hand, one of Prithamon’s bracelets jutting between his fingers.

‘What are you doing?’ Leopold asked him.

His eyes were wide and wild.  Once more he grabbed Leopold’s arm and nearly crushed it with his vice-like grip.  ‘Leopold, you will be a noble king.  I know it!’

He released his hold and snaked the bracelet around his wrist.  He closed his pale eyes and something changed within him.  A sigh escaped his mouth and his body went slack.  He would have fallen, but Leopold and Captain Orrell caught the man as he dropped and carefully laid him upon the steps.

Leopold shook the old man by the shoulders.  ‘Salu!  What is it?’

‘What has happened?’ Captain Orrell asked, but Leopold did not know.

A low moan issued from Salu’s throat, fading to a trailing gasp.

Prithamon’s attention immediately shifted towards them.  ‘Well done, old man.  At least you have some sense.  I am glad you have decided to join me.  I will enjoy your power and add it to my own.  Your friend will not be far behind you.’  The sorcerer smiled, but the moment was short-lived as discomfort appeared on his face.  ‘What is this?’  He grimaced, then he screamed and bent over at the middle, crying out in pain.  He ripped open his blood-red garment to reveal a gleaming device clamped around his waist.  He threw his jacket aside, letting it billow lightly to the steps.

Around his middle was an oversized replica of his bracelets—a hinged device of red and gold—and he began shaking at it; the relic was locked tight and would not release.  His shouts continued as he fought with it, growing more frantic.

The other sorcerers around the courtyard became stiff as statues.  Those still hovering plummeted to the ground.  Those standing pitched over, unminding if they landed on their faces and Prithamon’s screams grew louder, more desperate.

Leopold could feel the bracelet on Salu’s arm growing hot, and it was beginning to glow, searing the old man’s skin.  He tried to pry it off, but it hissed at the touch, burning his fingers.  Across the courtyard, on each Eudan sorcerer’s arm, their bands were doing the same, becoming incandescent rings of steel, smoking and cooking the flesh beneath.

The one in Samuel’s hand was likewise white-hot, but the magician did not seem to mind; his gaze locked firmly on Rei.

The contraption around Prithamon’s belly was also glowing hot, cooking him alive within it.

‘Get it off me!’ he roared in pain, but it was too late.

The band became intensely bright, and Prithamon gave a final ear-piercing shriek, a horrid boiling noise that bubbled in his throat as he fell back, stiff and steaming, his fingers bent into jagged, clutching claws.

Prithamon’s waist band, the bracelets on his sorcerers, the one on Salu’s wrist and the one in Samuel’s grip all turned to dust and blew away with the wind.  Salu was left with an ugly welt around his wrist, while Prithamon’s belly was a revolting sight: pink broiled meat, split open and spilling smoking, fleshy innards down the steps.

‘What has happened?’ Rei cried with horror.  She stepped away from Samuel and wailed as if in pain.

Captain Orrell ran to her side.  ‘Jessicah, what is wrong?’  He checked her for sign of injury.

‘What is wrong?’ she asked, shoving the man away.  ‘Get away from me, you clod!’  She looked to Samuel and back to the ruined form of Prithamon in disbelief.  ‘What has happened to the bracelets?’ she cried, shaking her fists.  She continued to scream as if in a demented rage.  ‘How can we subdue him now?  I will not be denied again!’

Captain Orrell was mystified.  ‘What is it, Jessicah?  What is the matter?’

Leopold left Salu resting gently on the stairs and came down to be with the captain.  ‘It is not Jessicah.  It is the witch, and she is unhappy that she has lost yet again.’

‘Unhappy?’ she bellowed.  ‘I am not unhappy.  I am enraged!  I am beyond enraged!’

‘Witch?’ Orrell repeated, blinking with confusion.  ‘What witch?’

‘No time, Captain,’ Leopold told him.  ‘Suffice to know that this woman is not Jessicah.  She has Jessicah trapped inside her.  This is Rei, the Witch Queen of Cintar.’

The woman was stamping her feet and furious, and Leopold grabbed her firmly by the shoulders to hold her still.  She tried to spit in his face, but he saw it coming and shifted his head in time.  He shook her violently so that her hair tumbled down in knots across her face.

‘Jessicah!’ he shouted, continuing to shake her.  ‘Jessicah, can you hear me?’

The woman gave up struggling and relaxed in his grip.  She scowled at him through her golden, matted hair.  ‘Damn you, boy.’  Her voice was softly spoken yet full of malice.  ‘You have betrayed me and I will not forget it.  You could have killed him, but you let the chance slip through your fingers.  Have your precious woman back ... for now.’

She had no sooner stopped speaking than she reached up and brushed her hair from her eyes, looking at Leopold with surprise.  Leopold released her and stepped back, unsure.

‘What ... what is this place?  What has happened?’ she asked.

‘Jessicah?’ the captain asked.

‘I think so,’ Leopold told him.  ‘Here.  Take her.  Hold onto her tightly.  Whoever she is, someone should guard her.  Don’t let her go.  I will see to Samuel and Salu.’

Captain Orrell stepped in and did as he was told, for the woman looked unsteady on her feet and clung to him like an anxious child.  The captain looked nearly as bad, mentally and physically exhausted.

It was then that the last remnants of fire around Samuel flew back into him with the noise of rippling paper, and the magician gasped aloud, drawing in a sudden breath.  His eyes opened wide with pain or surprise, then he too fell back onto the ground, hitting his head hard on the stones.

Leopold dropped to his side.  ‘Lord Samuel!  Are you injured?’

The magician was alive.  His eyes were open, and he was whispering to himself.  Leopold put his ear to the man’s mouth, but the sounds were unintelligible.  Then, the whispering stopped and Samuel uttered one word that Leopold could understand.

‘Salu.’

‘What about him?’ Leopold asked.  ‘What about Salu?’

‘Save him,’ the magician croaked.  ‘Quickly.’

Leopold jumped up and ran back to the old man on the steps.  He shook him by the arm and shouted his name.  Then, putting his head to the man’s breast, he listened.  He was alive but would not respond.  His mouth was wide, his eyes staring up at the sky.

‘Is he dead?’ Orrell called to him.

‘No.  He’s not dead,’ Leopold said.  ‘His heart still beats, but he will not move.’  He turned back to the old man, calling him and squeezing his hand.  ‘Salu!  Salu, wake up!’

Someone was then beside him, and Leopold was surprised to find it was Samuel.  The magician was stiff and shaky, moving with sawdust in his joints, and he scooped up the old man into both of his arms, cradling him like a baby.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold said with surprise and stood to face him.  ‘You’re alive.’

‘Yes.  I am,’ the magician replied without hesitation, although he looked emaciated and weak.  ‘Sorry to disappoint you.  There will be more chances to kill me yet, but not now.  Come, we must get him back to the ship before it is too late.’

The woman in Captain Orrell’s hands jumped forward, nearly breaking free of his grip, and she shouted, between her efforts to claw and bite the captain.  ‘Kill him, Leopold!  This is your chance!  He is defenceless!  Kill him now and the demons within him are banished from this world!  Do it, you stupid boy!  Kill him now and save us all!’

‘What—what is she doing?’ Orrell asked, aghast, as he held her at arm’s length, keeping his face out of her reach.

‘That is not Jessicah, Captain,’ Leopold explained, following Samuel down the stairs.  ‘Remember, it is the spirit of Rei inside of her.’

‘But ... how is that possible?’  The man was beyond exhaustion, hollow and withered, wavering on his feet.

‘It’s too hard to explain, but we cannot trust anything she does or says until Lord Samuel has a chance to heal her.  Just don’t hurt her or let her harm herself.’

‘So Lord Samuel now is it?’ Samuel said, coughing as he spoke.

‘I’m sorry,’ Leopold confessed.  ‘I didn’t know I would cause all this trouble.’

‘Don’t give me your apologies, Emperor.  I told you to come back for us and you did.  Our agreement remains unbroken.  Just keep an eye on Rei.  I see she is no longer too timid to show herself.  She does not have any magic, but she is still capable of mischief.’

‘Samuel, can you help her?’ Orrell pleaded.  ‘I … I don’t know what to do.’

‘Not now.  Just hold onto her.  That will have to do.  We have to stop her from causing us any further grief until I figure out the rest.  Now follow me.’

‘Where are we going?’ Leopold asked.

‘Back to the ship.’

Leopold regarded the old man in the magician’s arms.  ‘Can you save him?’

‘He cannot be saved, Leopold.  Salu is gone.’

‘But ... he is still breathing.’

‘His body persists but his soul has departed.  I saw him.  He came to me and he found me in the darkness.  He plunged himself into the fire and he fought against my demons; he gave me the strength to find my way home, at the cost of his own life.  His heart will continue beating for a short time, for his soul left so quickly his body has not had time to run itself down.  I need to get him into my casket before it does.’

‘If we get there in time can you bring him back?’

The magician shook his head.  ‘I cannot, Leopold.  Dead is dead.  Only gods can step across that boundary, and I am certainly no god ... not yet.’

‘Then why do it?  I don’t understand.’

‘Salu has saved us all and left me with a parting gift.’

‘What gift is that?’

‘His body.  There is no time to explain now, but once his heart beats its last, it will be wasted.’

‘Do you know the way?’

‘I know the way,’ the magician replied soundly.  ‘Only it’s best if we avoid any trouble.  I’m not in any state to protect us.  Here, you will have to carry him.’

Leopold took the body of Salu as it was hefted to him and slung it over his shoulders.  The old man felt like skin and bone.

A handful of Eudan guards had chosen that moment to come running into the courtyard, but on seeing the devastation, the bodies and blood, their sorcerers and ruler slain, they turned tail and went back the way they had come.

Samuel led the way up the steps and through the Harmony Chamber, leading them back into the tunnels.  Rei was screaming and kicking all the while, and Captain Orrell dragged her along as gently as he could.  At one point he became fed up and dropped her roughly to the ground, binding her hands and feet with his bloodied shirt torn in two.  After that she was not nearly as much trouble.

They moved through the tunnels, with Samuel moving quickly, somehow knowing the way, bypassing the sections that had collapsed from the battle.  Leopold paused on passing Empress Moon’s cell, but Samuel seemingly read the thoughts from his head.

‘Not now, Leopold,’ he said.  ‘We have enough to contend with as it is.  She will not suffer by remaining in her prison a few hours longer.’

So they left the old woman behind, silent in her cell.

They traversed the Temple of Shadows, where the statue now waited forlornly, bereft of its decorations.  They too had gone up in smoke, leaving charred marks on each emerald wrist.

‘Your hand!’ Orrell declared, for ghostly fire was once again issuing around Samuel’s fingers, shining in the dim chamber.

‘There is time,’ Samuel responded, noting their alarm.  ‘If I rest soon they will not be a problem.  At least now we have something to light our path.’  Indeed his devilish light flickered upon the floor and walls, guiding their way.

They came out into the tunnel mouth, back into blinding daylight, where the Farstride remained waiting.  Daneel was standing tall on the railing and shouted at once for the plank to be sent across.  As soon as it was in place, they each hurried to safety.

‘Here,’ Samuel said to Leopold.  ‘I will take him from here.’

The magician took the body of Salu from Leopold’s arms and went directly to his cabin, with Leopold dogging his steps.  They ignored the questions and comments from everyone as they passed, for Leopold could sense the increasing urgency in Samuel’s pace, and the fire around him was growing.  It was much dimmer in the daylight, but it was there, flickering subtly upon the magician’s skin, licking along the cloth of his robes.

‘Open it,’ Samuel commanded, standing beside the casket in his cabin, and Leopold quickly did as he was told, flicking open each sprung buckle.

Samuel placed the old man inside, closed the lid and locked each clasp in turn.  With that, his strength left him and he turned around and slid to the floor, his back against the box, and sighed.

‘There.  It is done.’

‘But what about you?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Are you not going to get inside?’

The magician shook his head.  ‘No.  There is not the room for both of us.  Salu’s body must stay inside or it will degrade.  I will persevere out here.’

Fire simmered upon his sweaty face, but Samuel took a few deep breaths and the flames subsided, drawing into his flesh, leaving red-hot spirals snailing about, fading under his skin.  Only tiny remnants of flickering remained.

‘Can you do it?’ Leopold asked with concern.  ‘Can you keep them inside?’

The magician shook his head gravely.  ‘Leopold, I need to ask you for something ... something I need to take from you.’

‘What is it?’ Leopold responded nervously.

‘You are like your father in many ways, Leopold.  There is magic inside of you.  It is dormant, but it exists.  I would ask you for it now, to sustain me, to keep my demons at bay.’

‘Magic?  In me?’

Samuel nodded, closing his eyes a moment as if gathering his strength.  ‘Don’t act surprised.  I know you know about it.  I know everything, remember?  Your father worked to keep it subdued, but it is there.  Truthfully, that is another reason I have kept you beside me, to access that power should the need arise.  I can think of no better time than now.’

‘What—what will happen to me?’ Leopold asked.

‘Nothing.  You will remain as you are now.’

‘Then take it,’ Leopold stated, eager to make up for his prior failings.  ‘I do not want it.’

‘Come closer,’ the magician instructed and hesitantly, Leopold did as he was told.  ‘Take my hand.’  Samuel offered his palm, struggling to raise it.

Leopold placed one hand into the magician’s and used his other to keep them propped up.  Rei’s warnings sounded in his head, but Leopold pushed such thoughts aside.  Now was not the time.

Samuel closed his eyes again, and a look of calm passed across his face, the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jawbone softened.  The last of his mage-fire receded.

‘It is done,’ he said, and released his grip.

‘I feel no different,’ Leopold admitted.

‘It is only that hidden core of magic I took from you, Leopold.  Suffice to say, you will never be a magician now.’

‘Thank the gods for that.’

Samuel laughed—a feeble attempt.

‘Is it enough?  Can you make it?’ Leopold then asked.

‘I must.  With Salu’s strength, and yours, I can do it.  Now ... go out.  I need darkness ... I need quiet.  Let no one disturb me.’

‘There is one thing I must tell you.’  He paused, but the magician did not possess the strength to reply.  ‘Lomar met me once, that night on the Spice Islands.’

‘I know,’ struggled the voice of Samuel, his head hanging down, hidden in his hood, his chin pressed against his chest.

‘He said Poltamir has lost your son ... that he is free.  Lomar has been searching for him, but he is not here ... he is not in Euda.  We have wasted all this time.  Your son could be anywhere.’

‘Leopold,’ came the strained reply.  ‘Don’t you think I know this already?’  A long pause.  ‘There is no waste.  We will find my son in the end.’

‘But ... but how did you know?’ Leopold asked with disbelief.

‘You told me.  Now, Leopold ... get out.’

Leopold did as he was told, shutting the door and leaving the magician to recover.

Chapter Eight

The Vessel

THE OTHERS WERE all waiting on the main deck for news when Leopold came out of the passage and descended the stairs.

‘What of Samuel?’ Captain Orrell asked.  He was alive, but dishevelled and in desperate need of a bath, not too dissimilar to Leopold.

‘He lives, but he fights his demons.  There is nothing we can do to help him, except leave him alone.  What have you done with Jessicah?’

‘She has been taken to her room.  The Koian women gave her something to help her sleep.  We tied her to her bed.  I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘When Lord Samuel returns, he will know.’

‘She doesn’t seem to know me anymore,’ the captain stated feebly.

‘She knows you, Captain.  Do not fret.  We will free her of the witch soon enough.’

‘What shall we do in the meantime?’ Captain Merryweather asked.  ‘There is no telling how long Lord Samuel may take to recover.  We can’t wait here.’  He looked around, for the Farstride remained anchored firmly beside the palace.  There was a commotion on the far banks, although it was too far to see the details.  The city on the near side of the river was hidden behind the bulk of the palace and the hill it sat upon, but plumes of smoke could be seen rising into the sky.

‘Move us into the bay,’ Daneel said.  ‘It is evident that we are no longer invisible.  We can defend ourselves better in the open.’

Some Eudan guards, those brave enough to venture out after the previous events, were leaning over the top of the palace wall at that very moment, shouting.

‘So be it,’ Riggadardian agreed and Merryweather stepped away, yelling to Mister Chapman and setting his crew to work.

‘What about the warships in the harbour?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Will we fight past them?’

‘Let them see us,’ Lady Wind said.  She was the only Koian present.  ‘We shall strike fear into them.  From what the captain tells us, they have no sorcerers left to defend them.  The signal has already gone out.  The retaking of the Heavenly City has begun.  Bodhi is no more.  That Eudan name will be purged from the maps before the day is done.  Word will spread across the nation, and soon enough, Koia will be ours again.’

Shortly, the Farstride was readied and as the anchors rattled back into their homes, the ship pulled away into the wide river, readying to make the turn.

Captain Orrell retired to his cabin for a much needed rest, and Leopold called for a tub, hot water, soap, towels and a stiff brush.  He sat there high on the aft deck, stripped down to his smalls and scrubbing the grime from his skin.  A crewman brought a change of clothes and Leopold discarded his underwear.  He kept scrubbing until every inch of him felt cleansed of crud and filth, almost rubbing his skin raw in the process.

When he was done, he towelled himself dry and changed into the fresh clothes.  It took perhaps half an hour, but when he was finished, he felt like a new man.  Three days of uninterrupted sleep would also accomplish wonders, but he could see to that once he knew they were safe.

He made his way down to the main deck, much refreshed.  Lady Wind was there with her husband, and the tall Captain Merryweather stood beside Kali.  All were looking across the bay.

Looking across the banks with his spyglass, Captain Merryweather noted that some altercations were under way.

As the Farstride made into the middle of the harbour, they could see that the city was in an uproar.  The Koian slaves had rebelled and their Eudan overseers were thrown into chaos.

‘Where are your sisters?’ Leopold asked Kali.

‘In the city already,’ she responded, looking towards the shore.  She had changed her clothes and looked refreshed.  Her cheek was sporting a long thin cut and Leopold thought it looked somehow noble.  ‘Spreading the word and assisting with the fight.  The people will gain strength from seeing true Koian warriors.  They will know the time has come to retake our homeland.  There are many other warriors hiding across the land, posing as slaves.  They will join the uprising.  Our revolt is gathering momentum.’

‘I found Empress Moon,’ Leopold said, spontaneously recalling the fact.  ‘In the dungeons.  Should we go back for her?’

‘No,’ Lady Wind said decidedly, cutting in before Kali could comment.  ‘She can stay where she is.’

They dropped anchor in the middle of the bay and waited.  Minor battles and skirmishes continued through the afternoon, but by dusk the revolt was mostly over.  Commander Riggadardian had sent a good portion of his men ashore to help, at the request of Lady Wind, and they now returned by the boatload, bringing news that the uprising was over.  In a few short hours, The Heavenly City had been retaken.  The city’s chain of command had been decimated and without sorcerers, the Eudan troops had floundered.

‘We helped a little, but the Koians seem to be doing well by themselves,’ reported Daneel on his return, for he had gone with the men to direct their efforts.  ‘The Eudans have all but surrendered.  Only a few holdouts have barred themselves indoors, awaiting the inevitable.’

‘What will you do with the Eudans?’ Leopold asked of Lady Wind.

‘We cannot send them back to Euda, for we simply lack the means.  Neither shall we kill them.  We cannot blame the majority for the actions of their leaders.  We shall offer them peace, as long as they agree to maintain it.  We shall allow them to coexist with us, if they can, and if they abandon their barbaric ways.  We will be their slaves no longer, but neither shall we make them ours.’

‘That is very noble of you, good woman,’ Leopold said.

‘I have learned much in my time away from my home,’ Lady Wind replied, with a contented smile.  ‘Even you Amandian savages have taught me a few things.’  And she looked to her husband with a loving smile.

Commander Riggadardian, a changed man from earlier in the day, squeezed her arm.  It was clear he wanted to throw his arms around her and hug her, but he was an upstanding Turian officer and such things were just not done in public.

Everything was in good hands, so Leopold announced he was going to retire.  He strode back to his room, kicked off his boots and collapsed in his bed.  The ship could have burned down after that and he would not have known or cared.  His head had barely hit the pillow before he was already deep in the embrace of sleep.

****

It was another two days before Lord Samuel emerged, thin and emaciated.  He came exploring out from his cabin and staggered to the commander’s quarters.  There, the magician drank his fill of water and, surprisingly, requested food.  He ate a plateful before demanding seconds, still ravenous.  Lady Wind was in shock as he stuffed bread and meat and soup into his mouth, one handful after the other, grunting like a pig with its nose in the trough.

‘You live another day, Lord Samuel,’ Riggadardian said, looking pleased.

‘I do,’ the magician replied between swallows.

‘And what now?’

‘We move on—quickly.  We have settled our affairs here and we must be on to Euda.  Poltamir awaits and I am eager to have all this done.  The final Ancient One remains, and I must find him and defeat him quickly.  The matter is only made more urgent by our latest events.’

‘And what of your ... demons.’

‘My demons are again in check, Commander, but their thirst for escape has been accelerated.  It is now only a matter of time.’

‘But you can barely stand, good Magician.’

‘The worst is behind me.  It is far to Euda.  I have time to recover.  I will be strong enough to deal with Poltamir when we arrive.  You can be sure of that.’

‘Ah.  Do you not think we should stay longer and ensure the situation here is resolved?  Eudan reinforcements could arrive from anywhere at any moment.’

‘They could, but we will not stay.  Let the Koians deal with such matters themselves.  They are more than capable now Prithamon and his sorcerers have been removed.  If the rebellion has succeeded here, it will gather momentum across the country.  The Eudans have no particular desire to rule here.  They simply want to live.  It was Prithamon who dictated the laws to Pradmet, so in effect by killing the sorcerer we have freed the Eudans from tyranny as well.  That brings me to you, Lady Wind,’ he said, glancing up from his plate.  ‘Will you be staying here?’

‘I will,’ she said with a solemn nod.

‘And you, Commander, I assume you will remain with your wife.’  Riggadardian stuttered nervously.  ‘So be it,’ the magician said decidedly.  ‘You can stay—if Leopold agrees, of course.’

‘I could not possibly—’ Riggadardian argued unconvincingly.

‘Please, stay,’ Leopold pleaded.  ‘I would not separate you from your dear wife.  You have fulfilled your duty to the letter, Commander.  You have brought us to Koia and helped save a nation.  No Turian hero could have done more, and as such, you deserve just reward for your service.  You are a free man.  I relieve you of your duty.’

The commander was dismayed, leaving Samuel to roll his eyes and interject once again.  ‘Leopold, no Turian would willingly leave the service of his Empire.  That would be like you leaving the service of your legs.  Have you not learnt by now?  Perhaps the Commander could be posted to Koia and assist with the interests of the Empire?’

‘Ah … I don’t follow,’ Leopold stated, perplexed by it all.

‘Use your brain, Leopold.  Turia and Koia need an alliance.  There are all sorts of agreements and paperwork to see to.  You would need an ambassador to remain here and take care of all that important ... stuff.’  He said the last word with a flourish of his hand.  Evidently, it was the least abrasive term he could offer.

‘Ah,’ Leopold said, finally catching on.  ‘Of course.  So be it.’  He reverted to his best emperor’s voice.  ‘Commander Riggadardian, I appoint you to the position of Turian Ambassador to the empire of Koia.  How does that sound?’ he added, looking expectantly between the magician and the commander.

Riggadardian sighed a great breath of relief.  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ he said.  ‘I am sure Captain Merryweather will do a fine job in my absence.  Unfortunately, Lieutenant Fillius died defending the Farstride, but Mister Chapman will make up for it, I’m sure, and there are other fine men who can assist them both.  I only hope you don’t—’

‘Don’t speak of it, Commander,’ Leopold said, waving off the man’s attempts to be apologetic.

‘Ambassador,’ Samuel corrected him.

‘Ambassador Riggadardian,’ Leopold amended.

Samuel dabbed his chin delicately with a napkin.  ‘Now that is taken care of, let us be away.  I assume our supplies have been replenished and the ship readied?’

‘Not quite,’ Merryweather said.  ‘The city has been in some turmoil throughout the rebellion.  The men are ashore now, seeing to it.  We also had some damage to mend, which I believe has been dealt with—as well as can be under the circumstances.  It should hold out for another few weeks, but our good ship will need a long rest after all this, and some extensive maintenance in dry dock.’

Samuel accepted the report without objection.  ‘So be it.  Then let us depart as soon as possible.  By the morning.  I assume it will not take long to finish loading those supplies.  There seems to be hardly any crew left, so keep light on the provisions.’

‘Aye,’ Merryweather responded.

Samuel then turned to Leopold.  ‘What of Jessicah?’

Leopold swallowed.  ‘She is quieter.  There has been no further sign of Rei, as far as we can tell, but we thought it better to wait for you before releasing her.’

‘That was wise,’ Samuel said.

‘She is very upset, but we just couldn’t be sure ...’

‘I understand.  You did well not to give in to her.  Where is she?’

‘Locked in her room,’ Leopold replied.  ‘With a guard on the door.’

‘Fine,’ the magician said.  ‘I will see to her immediately.’

Samuel then pushed back his chair, much invigorated, and left the room without so much as a goodbye.

****

‘Phoenix,’ Leopold greeted, approaching the young woman by the handrail.  Kali and Destiny were by her side.  He was eager to speak to Kali, but with the other two present, he dare not offend them.  ‘I assume this is goodbye.’

The newly appointed Ambassador Riggadardian and Lady Wind were climbing aboard their longboat, about to leave the ship with their belongings.

‘No,’ Phoenix replied.  ‘We will come with you.  We will assist you and the magician to the end of your quest.’

Leopold was delighted, fighting down the urge to smile.  ‘Why is that?’

‘We are in debt to you, Emperor Leopold,’ the sullen Phoenix answered.  ‘You have set the wheels in motion.  Koia will soon be free.  Nothing can stop that now.  It is only fitting that we should aid you in return.’

‘It may be difficult to bring you back,’ Leopold told her bluntly.  ‘I am not even sure where we are going.’

‘We will do our duty,’ Phoenix said.  She might have been strikingly beautiful, if not for her fiery temperament.  With that and her judgemental manner, Leopold could not bring himself to find anything attractive about her.  ‘Is there something else?’ she asked, noticing Leopold lingering.

‘Oh ... No,’ he said and took one step away.

He let his gaze linger upon Kali, hoping she would return his advances, but she turned with her sisters to watch the longboat in its squeaking descent.

Toby was also on deck, leaning over the side, waving and laughing to those in the boat as it was lowered away.  He had not seemed to notice that Salu was gone and still played all about the ship as before.

How wonderful it would be to be so carefree, Leopold thought.  Death and pain and loss are unknown to him.  He turned with a sigh and spied Samuel—a tall, black crow with his robes draped over him—standing further away and went to consult with the man.  ‘Did you have something to do with this?’ he asked.

‘With what?’ the magician asked flatly.

‘Bringing the Koians.’

‘No.  It was their decision.  Lady Wind was about to order them away before Phoenix suggested it—perhaps a fortunate turn of events for you.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Don’t worry, Leopold.  I will not spill your secret.  I can see your interest in the girl.  Kali is her name, is it not?’

‘It is.  Ah ... it’s true I have noticed her, but she is cold towards me.  I have no idea how to court women, and even if I did, I am not sure I would be successful with her.’

‘Don’t worry if she feels icy now, Leopold.  Such frozen hearts can be thawed—if not in this life, then another.’

The young Emperor scowled.  ‘I am not interested in waiting for another life.’

‘Then bide your time.  It is certainly possible to undo the damage done by magic to a human heart, once the magic has been removed, but it takes time.’

‘Is it her skills that make her like this?’

‘Aye.’  It was not a word the magician used often—a word more associated with sailors and far-flung farmers than magicians—but it slipped comfortably from his tongue on this occasion.  ‘There is a dash of magic around every blow the Koian warriors deliver.  It affects them similarly to magicians after a time.’

‘Then it is hopeless.  She will not give up who she is for my sake.  Why should she?  She has no interest in me.’

‘She may not have any choice, Leopold.  Wait and see.  Magic is leaving the world piece by piece and if I get my way it will never come back.  If her feelings return, there is a chance she may fall victim to your charms—what little I have seen.  I cannot promise it, but all things are possible.’

‘I can only hope,’ Leopold said.  He did not wish to broach the next subject, but there was no avoiding it; better to have it said and done.  ‘You have not said anything about my behaviour, about me abandoning you and leaving you for dead, about all the terrible things I have done.  Are you not upset?  Is there no punishment in store?’

‘What should I do, Leopold?’ the magician replied.  ‘Killing you would upset the men; beating you would bruise my weary hand.  Besides, that cowardly boy ran away when I needed him, so good riddance.  An emperor returned to save me, and I would have it no other way.  You saved the ship and you saved us all Leopold.  You should be proud of yourself.’

‘Are you really not angry?’

‘Oh, I rarely get angry, Leopold.  I simply take note and eventually, when it suits me, I entertain myself by taking revenge.’  There was no hint of amusement on his lips.

Leopold floundered to find a response.  ‘Ah ... I think I would prefer angry,’ he ventured.

‘Oh no, Leopold.  You’ve never seen me angry.  You would not prefer it, let me assure you.’

‘So what have you been up until this point?’

‘Slightly annoyed,’ Samuel assured him.

‘Ah, then I believe you,’ Leopold said solemnly.  ‘So what would you have me do to make it up to you?  Assuming, of course, that would save me from retaliation.’

Samuel smiled and Leopold felt relief wash over him.  ‘Survive, Leopold.  Live, so I do not break my word to your mother.  That is all I want from you.’

‘I will do my best.’

The magician cleared his throat and was serious once again.  ‘I wanted to thank you for telling me about my son.  You did not have to, but you did.’

‘Thank me?’ Leopold asked incredulously.  ‘Should you not be scolding me for not telling you earlier?  For keeping it from you all that time?’

‘Of course not.  You are a child, Leopold—although I mean no disrespect by that.  It is simply the truth, from my perspective.  All people are children in one way or another, trying to grow into something else, something greater.  When you revealed what you had learned, it was a coming of age for you, Leopold.  You grew; you bettered.  I am proud of you.  Of course I knew long ago that Poltamir had lost my son.  I read it from your mind right after you met Lomar.  He knew I would, hoping I would do all the work of searching and save him the effort.  We still had to come here to check the temple.  I still have to defeat Poltamir.  It made no difference.’

‘Then where is he?  Where is your son and what could he be doing if not destroying the world?’

‘I have no idea,’ the magician stated with a shake of his head.  ‘Perhaps he is simply seeing the sights ... taking in the wonders of the world before devouring it.  Such time is negligible in the scale of things.  Unlike us, he is in no particular hurry.’

‘So how will you find him?’

‘I am trusting he will find us.  With my growing power I am hoping to appear a tasty treat to any demon with an empty belly.’  The magician looked thoughtful, lost in his pondering.  ‘Come!’ he then said with vigour, quite surprisingly.  ‘I want to speak with Jessicah again and I want you to come with me.’

‘Why is that?’

‘To see how she reacts.’

‘Very well,’ the Emperor agreed.

The activity continued around them—all the shouts and calls and thuds of movement on the enormous main deck that meant they would soon be setting away.

They climbed the aftcastle stairs and went into the passageway to Jessicah’s cabin, beside Samuel’s.  Nodding to the two guards, they unfastened the freshly added bolt-lock on the door and went in to find Samuel’s cousin upon her bed, tied by hand and foot to the bedposts.  No one spoke, and Samuel and Leopold drew their chairs and sat facing her; and waited.

‘There’s no need to make me feel so guilty,’ she said finally, turning her head to observe them.

She looked so miserable.  Leopold wished they could find another way to keep her safe; to strip the witch from her entirely.

Jessicah continued.  ‘I know what I did.  I’m sorry, but you both know I couldn’t help it.’

‘We know,’ the magician replied.  ‘We just want to be sure who we’re talking to.’

‘Of course it’s me, Samuel.  Can’t you tell?’

‘She’s telling the truth,’ Leopold added, sure of his words.  ‘It’s her—Jessicah.  I’m sure of it.’

‘I know,’ Samuel said, ‘but I also know that Rei is waiting patiently, listening to everything we say and ready to take advantage of us if we let down our guard.  I’m sorry, Jessicah.  We will find a way to solve this dilemma as soon as possible, but for the time being, and for your own safety, we need to keep you in here.  Rei is devious and there’s no telling what she would do to get back at me and young Leopold here.

‘Oh, believe me,’ he added, noting Leopold’s surprise, ‘she has been after you since you were born, Leopold, and after crossing her this time you will have moved up a notch on her list.  She must be at pains to decide if she hates you or me more at this stage.’

‘I know,’ Jessicah said.  ‘I can feel her now.  She sometimes lets me see when she is in control, to make me feel all the worse.  She made me remember everything she did while she was in Cintar.  It was so awful!  I can barely contain it!’  She shuddered as she spoke.  Tears welled in her eyes.  ‘Honestly ... what will become of me?  How can I go on like this?’  She could persevere no longer and wept openly, unable to wipe away her tears, bound as she was.

Samuel sat unmoving, passionless.  Leopold went to her side, sitting beside her and squeezing her hand to comfort her.  He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed at her tears.

‘Don’t worry, Jess,’ he said.  ‘We’ll find a way to get rid of her.’

‘You know,’ Samuel began, ‘I once named a horse after you, just so I could look forward to the time when I told you—to see your face when you chided me for being so silly.’

‘And I would have,’ Jessicah replied, blinking through her tears and trying to smile.

‘Oh, you’re very good,’ Samuel stated assuredly.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, sniffing.

‘I always knew you were an expert of deception, but you use her so well.  Every gesture, every motion delivered with the sole purpose of deceiving us, to goad us into believing you, but I know it is you, Rei, pulling the strings.  Why don’t you let Jessicah out for a while so I can speak with her?’

The woman changed her expression at once, sneering at Samuel.  Leopold felt her fingers—clasped gently within his palm—stiffen with rage and he stood away from her, unsure of what was happening.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘You will never get her back, Samuel!’ the woman declared.  ‘I told you I would make your loved ones suffer, and I will—for all time.  I will keep her awake within me, tormenting her as I flay the innocent.  I shall gut countless children before her.  She will not be able to keep their screams from her ears.  She will never be able to close her eyes.  I shall torture every god-forsaken soul in this world and I shall make her feel it with her own hands!’

‘It’s Rei?’  Leopold peered at the woman with disbelief.

‘Only you have been forsaken by your god, Rei.  Lin has abandoned you.  And it’s only a matter of time until we free Jessicah.  Once I defeat Poltamir I’m sure I will have more than enough power to remove you.  You are only a shadow of your former self, and soon, you will not even be that.  Jessicah is all that will remain.’

‘You’ll never get me out of her!’ she declared viciously.  She struggled against her bonds, but Samuel gave her a warning glare that had her abandoning her efforts before he saw fit to punish her.

‘Don’t try anything foolish,’ he told her.  ‘We can gag and blindfold you if need be.  Captain Orrell is especially displeased with you.  He had grown quite fond of Jessicah and you have upset him badly.  He’s put his best men on your door.  One wayward sound from you and they will be in here with their batons.  If you co-operate, it will be easier for all of us.’

‘I’ll kill her!’ she hissed.

‘And kill yourself?  You have no power, no spells.  You are part of the legacy no longer, so there is no being reborn for you.  Once you die, it will be for good.  Being mortal can be quite a shock.  Still, I suppose I wouldn’t put it past you to kill yourself just to spite me.  As such, we’ve made sure there’s nothing in here to harm you, unless you plan to dash your head against the bedhead until it breaks.  I think the guards can cope with that.’

‘Damn you!’  She turned to Leopold.  ‘And damn you, too, young fool!’  She spat beside his feet.  ‘You could have had everything you wanted.  You could have killed him.  You could have had me.  He was defenceless and you were too weak to act!  Now you have squandered your chance and Samuel is still alive!’

Leopold did not feel guilty in the least as she outed their plans.  He knew now that Samuel had known and would always know whatever was in his head, and after what they had been through, he had decided to see Samuel’s quest to its end.  He would never forgive the magician for killing his father, but he had come to realise the pointlessness of pursuing his bitter revenge.

‘I was not too weak,’ he told her.  ‘I have found my strength.  I am sorry that you are punishing Jessicah, because she is a wonderful woman.  And I apologise to her too, for what I put her through.  She does not deserve this, but we will free her soon, and then I will be glad when you are gone, Rei.  You are poison to everyone.  There is nothing beautiful about you.’

‘Bah!’ she declared.

‘Come, Leopold,’ Samuel urged the Emperor.  ‘Let us go.  We will get no sense from her.  Jessicah, do not fear.  We will save you.  Hold tight.’

Samuel went out first while Leopold lingered in the doorway, unable to believe that the gentle woman he had known was gone, entrapped within this deplorable beast.

****

The Farstride carried them away from the coast of Koia, much lighter on crew than when they had arrived several days before.  The ship’s contingent of soldiers had suffered the greatest losses, down to about a tenth of their starting numbers and the deck was almost deserted.  The air was sober, for many friends had been killed in their tussle with the Eudans, and after such a brief stay on land, they were once again venturing into the unknown.

Some crew had received a short allocation of shore leave, but it was not nearly enough.  A month would not be long enough after the time they had been at sea.  Given the choice, they would have stayed longer, but as usual Samuel was impatient to leave and would spare them no leniency.  Strangely, Leopold now shared his hurry, for with Salu gone he wanted a quick end to the whole crusade.

It was a comparatively short jaunt to Euda—ten days across the straits in their sturdy vessel.  The waters were deep and treacherous, but the Farstride ploughed confidently through the wildest of seas.  They had no need of maps or guides, for immediately after leaving the coast Samuel notified them of a sensation, a tugging in his mind.  It originated from Euda, pulsing like a beacon, and there was no doubt that it was the last of the Ancient Ones.

‘Poltamir calls to me,’ Samuel said, standing at the bow of the ship, the stiff wind dragging his robes behind.  ‘He wants us to come to him.  He felt what happened in Koia.  I sense he is curious, eager.’

‘What will we do?’ Leopold asked cautiously.

‘We will satisfy his request.  We will meet him.  Then I will kill him.’

****

‘Don’t watch too long, Leopold,’ came the voice of Samuel and Leopold dropped the lid of the magician’s casket thumping shut.

He was looking at the body of Salu, lying in the box as if in peaceful slumber, when the magician had snuck up soundlessly behind him.  He had placed his ear against the old man’s chest, hearing the very slow, but steady pounding of his heart.

‘It does not work while the lid is open,’ Samuel added.  ‘His heart will weaken and eventually stop if you continue gawking at him.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Leopold explained.  ‘I just wanted to see him again.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel said, coming in from the doorway and setting some papers down upon his desk.  ‘He was a gentle soul.  Strangely, I miss him, too.’

Toby, at Leopold’s side, whimpered like a puppy, jumping at the side of the casket, trying to see within.

‘I followed him in.’  Leopold nodded towards the boy.  ‘He was standing here quietly, watching the box.  I think he knows what’s inside.  I’ve never seen him like this.’

‘I’m sure there is some sanity in his disturbed mind.  He and Salu were similar in many ways.  I only wonder if the boy will find his senses as he grows.’

‘Will you tell me now what you plan to do with him?’ Leopold asked, looking again towards the casket.

‘In truth, I have no plan—but a living, vacant body is very rare and valuable.  Let’s call it my insurance.  If, in the end, this body is destroyed, I may have the chance to enter that one and perhaps cheat death.’

‘You can do that?’

The magician shook his head.  ‘Not yet.  I am close, but as with many things, the final trick still evades me.  Even Salu could not manage it.  He knew what would happen once he put on Prithamon’s bracelet.  The sorcerers were little more than hollow puppets that Prithamon controlled himself.  Salu let his consciousness join the web of minds, and Prithamon found himself sorely outmatched.  The relic, too, was overwhelmed by Salu’s might.  He let himself be taken, and then he destroyed them all to save me.  In that instant, bereft of his body, he came to me.  I could see him, standing before me, bathed in light, made of it.

‘He could have moved on, but he gave himself to me, as had your father, so I could subdue my demons.  I know him now.  I understand him.  He was simple in some respects, superficially, yet far beyond me in many ways.  I thought I had left humanity behind, that I was superior, but now I feel like a child after experiencing his thoughts.  I still am not entirely clear why he helped us.  He had an entirely different comprehension of life and this world.  To him, what we are striving for is pointless.’

‘Is it?’ Leopold asked.

‘Again, it depends on your perspective.  We are tiny motes in the overall scheme of things, but tiny motes with thoughts and dreams nonetheless.  I think that is what convinced him in the end.  Suffering.  No matter at what scale or what level, Salu has no desire to let anything suffer.  He was full of sympathy and compassion—something I have found myself lacking of late.’

‘But that is something you can recover, isn’t it—like the lost love in Kali’s heart.  No one is beyond hope … are they?’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel responded grimly.

Leopold was not sure how to broach the next subject.  There was little point in caring if the magician was offended by anything he said, so he said it directly.  ‘Rei said that if you died, we would all be saved—that your demons would die with you.  Is it true?’

‘In a way,’ said Samuel.  ‘If I die, they return to their realm, so the world would not be saved, but it would be granted a brief reprieve.  So to answer your question, if I were about to be overcome by my demons, killing me would certainly banish them, however, the chance to finally rid us of their curse would be lost.  Who can say when it may come again, if ever.’

‘Are you afraid to die?’

The magician smiled; a mysterious smile that resulted whenever he was asked something unexpected.  ‘I’m only afraid of not dying.  All things die, Leopold.  They must.  If not, they were never alive to begin with.  Death is not to be feared.  It’s to be taken in the arms and held tight like a lover.’

‘Aren’t you afraid of what might happen afterwards?  Where you might go?  What you might see?’

‘No, Leopold.  Those are the concerns of demons, of fearful beings that crave life so much they suck it from everything they touch, avoiding the natural ebbs and flows of the universe.  To deny ourselves from returning to the Pattern is to deny some other life a chance to exist.  Everything must take its turn, Leopold.  Everyone should have their time in the sun, and evening is not an end, it is a transition, a time of rest and repose that leads to another remarkable day.  The Pattern flows and ripples like a beautiful and unending woven cloth.  Such a wonder does not benefit from having stubborn knots in its fabric.  Moving on, yielding to change is the best way.  It is the only way.’

‘Why live our lives and go through all this ... this torture if at the end we just drop dead?  Is it all for nothing?  What about our loved ones and everything we leave behind?  ’

The magician smiled mysteriously.  ‘Leopold, sometimes all we are is what we leave behind.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Some things cannot—should not—be explained.  I’ll let you dwell upon it.  Now come.  Leave Salu to his rest.’

With that, Samuel led the Emperor and the pining child from his room.

****

They were five days in and halfway across the strait when Leopold plucked up the nerve to approach Kali directly.  He watched her from a distance at every opportunity as she wandered the decks with her countrywomen.  He occasionally greeted her, but she was never far from her sisters and the ever-watchful, ever-scornful gaze of Phoenix.  There was never a chance to be with her by himself.

That evening, he found Kali alone, watching the sun as it ate into the horizon at the ocean’s edge.  Strips of cloud ran parallel all the way into the distance, growing orange and pink, almost crimson where they overlaid the sun.

Dinner smells rose with steam from the galley and the men were sitting in clusters over their meals, laughing bravely and revealing their hopes for a better life once the voyage was done.

Kali was wearing a smooth white dress covered in little red clouds and floral motifs.  It hugged her figure, running from its tight collar down to below her knees, accentuating her slim waist and emphasising her hips.  Her hair was parted neatly on one side, making a pale strip along her scalp, and was gathered into a bun.

‘Not going to eat?’ he asked her.

‘Not yet,  Your Majesty.’  She kept her eyes to the beautiful scene playing out in the west.

‘Please don’t call me that,’ he told her.  Then, when his breath had settled, ‘Tell me, I find it curious, why are you called Kali when the others from Koia are named after things.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said, looking at him with puzzlement.

‘Wind, Phoenix, Destiny and all the rest.  Such names have meaning.  What is a Kali?’

‘I am still confused.  A Kali is a small burrowing fox.  It has large ears for finding its prey: mostly insects.’  She waggled her fingers at the top of her head to demonstrate its appearance and Leopold could not help but smile.  On noticing his amusement, she stopped at once and narrowed her eyes at him.  ‘Do you not know?  Perhaps you don’t have this animal in your land or you have no name for it, so you hear the sound without meaning.  So it is with your name to me.  Leopold.  What a strange noise.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, amused.  There followed an empty silence he was eager to fill.  ‘Do you miss your home?’

‘No.  I can feel it far behind us in the distance.  I know we will return soon, but while we are away I carry my home with me in my heart.  Also, I am not alone.  I am with my sisters, I have nothing to fear.’

‘I must admit I find your people to be very proud.’

‘I must admit—’

‘I know, I know,’ he said, interrupting her.  ‘You find my people rude and ignorant.’

‘I was going to say, I find your people to be the same.  Of course, our ways are different, but your companions have shown courage beyond measure.  You showed courage,’ she added, much to his delight.  ‘You are not a magician or a skilled swordsman, yet you fought side by side with such champions against insurmountable odds.  I know you will be successful in your quest.’

‘I hope so.  It feels like we have been away forever.  I just want to get back and see if my mother is well.’

This intrigued her.  ‘I would not have guessed you were one who would miss his mother’s side.’

‘Is there something wrong with that?’ he asked defensively.

‘Not at all.  It is a sign of strength, not weakness.  Some Koian warriors shun their families.  They turn their back on their past to pursue their warrior’s fate, but in doing so they leave much of their potential behind.  At least, that is what I believe.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Leopold admitted.  ‘I just hope she is well.’  Phoenix and Destiny were hovering further away.  They noticed him, and he wanted to get Kali away before they ruined everything.  ‘Will you walk with me?’ he asked her.

‘Where will we go?’

‘There is nowhere to go except around the ship.  That will have to do.’

She nodded and they started away, strolling slowly next to each other.  Her clothes shimmered pink, changing mood with the sunset.

Despite her beauty she appeared ready to pounce, expecting battle any moment.  Her eyes scanned wherever they went, hunting for danger.

‘We’re safe here, you know,’ he told her.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘You just don’t seem to be relaxed.  I feel like you are always suspecting danger.’

‘I am relaxed,’ she said.  ‘I have trained all my life to be so.  And I do always suspect danger.  These tasks are not mutually exclusive.’

‘Can you forget about danger for the time being?  You are safer here than anywhere in the world.  We have Lord Samuel.  I can protect you also.’  She gave him a doubting glance.  ‘Well, you know what I mean.  Actually, what I’m trying to say is that I want to protect you.  I would if I could.’

She looked genuinely puzzled.  ‘What are you saying, Emperor Leopold?’

They stopped at the railing, watching the swell roaming by.  She stood stiffly, shoulders back, without any of the emotion he craved from her.  She observed him no differently to a piece of chicken, or a hunk of wood, a servant awaiting commands from her master.  There was no indication she shared any of the same feelings as he.  She made none of the sensual gestures that poured from Rei.  But how could she possibly feel any of these things?  As Samuel had said, she was like him—like anyone who meddled with magic—cold and heartless inside, devoid of such feelings.

He thought of taking her hand; he desperately wanted to hold onto her, yet he dreaded rejection.  If she turned him away, that would be the end of it, and he could not bear the thought of that ... not yet.

‘I’m saying we should all take care of each other,’ he replied.  ‘There will be dangers in Euda, I am sure.’

She looked at him without blinking.  ‘Of course.’

She waited for him to say more, and he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze, desperate to bridge the gap between them.

‘I was so foolish before,’ he said.  ‘I had no idea how stupid I was.  I just want to thank you for giving me your advice.’

She smiled at him; a sight he treasured and wished to see beyond anything else in the world.  Sadly, it disappeared as soon as she spoke.  ‘At least you have the wisdom to know so.  Few people can lay claim to such.’

He shook his head at his own stupidity, both now and how he’d acted before.  ‘There I was, prancing around like a cockerel.  I thought you were all so impressed with my sparring ... but it was so pathetic compared to even the slightest of what you can do.  You were all laughing at me.’

‘I apologise, Emperor.  We did not mean to offend you.  Your people had not earned our trust, and to be truthful, it was very amusing.  It is difficult to make a Koian warrior laugh, but that day we felt like girls again as we watched you playing the fool.  Some of us thought you were indeed putting on a show, due to your astonishing degree of incompetence.’

Leopold chuckled at her straight-faced delivery.  ‘Please.  I beg you.  Don’t call me Emperor.  I am simply Leopold.  But tell me, does being a warrior really deprive you of feelings?’

She scrutinised him closely, wondering what lay behind his words.  ‘Not all feelings are lost.  Some are harder to reach than others, but with our duties we have no use for them.  It is better to concentrate on our training rather than waste time with foolishness.’

‘But that would only make it worse,’ he said.  ‘The more you train, the less you feel.’

‘That is not such a bad outcome.’

She was quiet after that, and he could sense some hesitation in her manner to discuss it further.  The silence was uncomfortable, and he scoured his brain for some intelligent or amusing comment to offer, something that would impress her.  The dinner smells returned to him and his stomach rumbled.  ‘Are you hungry?  Perhaps you could join me for dinner?’

‘Not yet,’ she replied.  She looked towards her sisters.  ‘I will go.’

‘What is wrong with her?’ Leopold asked sourly.  ‘—with Phoenix.  Can’t she give you a moment to yourself?’

‘She is the example we all try to meet.  She has reached a superb ability at such a young age.  I admire her.  She is our leader.  It is as simple as that.  Farewell, Your Majesty.  If I may take my leave?’

‘Of course,’ he told her, defeated.

She left him there at the railing, and he felt like a fool once again.  His hunger soured in his stomach.  With little else to do, he decided to eat anyway.  He made his way down the stairway, pondering lost opportunities.

‘I think you’re making headway,’ the voice of Daneel sounded behind him on the stairs.

‘Do you watch everything I do?’ Leopold responded with sudden annoyance.

‘I was actually watching her, but you got in the way.  Don’t feel disheartened.  If at first you don’t succeed ...’

‘You don’t think I am wasting my time?’

‘Not at all,’ the one-eyed man replied.  ‘I think you should follow your heart with all your might.  I merely advise you to do so carefully and gradually.  I have heard what these women are like when they are tested and we have both seen them fight.  She may not respond well if you offend her, or place any part of you where it is not invited.  One of the crew is sporting a very nasty bruise in a very uncomfortable place as evidence of that.  But I do not think breaching her defences is impossible.  Any fortress can be overwhelmed and taken—even such a barren keep as she defends.  Greater miracles have happened.  And besides, a slap from her in exchange for a kiss is probably worth the risk.’

They reached the main deck and Daneel went his own way, granting Leopold a broad smile and a fanciful wave of his hand.

Strangely, Leopold felt hope at Daneel’s advice.  He would not give up ... but he would reassess his strategy.

****

Leopold sought Kali at every opportunity, and although his attempts to woo her were painfully obvious, she did not show any sign of noticing.  He did nothing too quickly, simply talking with her when the opportunity arose.

Separating her from her sisters was the most difficult task; Phoenix was reluctant to leave Kali alone.  The more he tried, the more Phoenix blocked his way, scowling at him, hands on her hips.  The brooding woman, no older than Kali herself, was quick to find excuses why Kali was otherwise busy.

When he did speak with her, he found Kali not entirely heartless, and she laughed softly on the rarest occasions.  She crafted the tiniest of smiles when she was pleased.  Tiny lines crept out from the corners of her eyes at the same time.  Leopold fell in love with that sight.  He made it his sole purpose to discover everything that brought her emotions to light.  He asked of her childhood and family, and stories of her training and home, and he shared his tales in return.  She revealed a hunger for knowledge of the everyday chores of Amandian life.  She found such habits intriguing, sometimes bewildering, and he had to admit, he found the same of hers.

It could not be called a courtship.  They only spoke briefly, and if not for Samuel’s magic, they would not be able to understand each other.  They were different in nearly every way, from two different worlds.  He was a fisherman’s son, trying to be something he knew nothing about, and she was a loveless warrior, obsessed by duty.

She spoke to him as to an emperor, answering politely, agreeing more often than not, never straying too far from the most cautious answer.  Still, he cherished every moment of it and he wondered if, given the chance, he could arrange for the final leg of their journey to never end.

****

A cry sounded from the lookout on the eighth day.

‘What is it?’ Captain Merryweather called to the man and Leopold strode out upon the main deck, staring up at the heights to await the reply.

‘An island,’ returned the call of the man with some doubt in his voice.  ‘Or a mountain.’

‘An island or a mountain?’ the captain mused aloud, perplexed.

Leopold followed Merryweather up onto the foredeck and they both peered ahead.  Something huge lay directly ahead, a perfectly cylindrical stone structure, rising up directly from the sea.  It was grey in the distance.  Clouds gathered about its flattened crown.

‘It is neither,’ Samuel said, somehow now beside them.

‘Then what is it?’ Merryweather asked with intrigue, plucking up the spyglass from his nearest man and ogling the distant shape.

‘A trap.  From Poltamir.  It reeks of his magic.’

‘What will we do?’ Leopold asked.

‘There is little we can do, except spring it,’ the magician stated assuredly.  He turned to Leopold.  ‘I have no doubt that Lomar may speak to you again.  He has a way of appearing whenever I am lured away.  I don’t know what he is trying to achieve, but humour him.  If talking to you is what he wants, let him talk.  There is nothing he can gain from you that will help him, and I think by now you know well enough not to believe him.  He is obviously not intent on stopping us from reaching his master or he would have tried to sink our ship long ago.  I am curious to see what he is trying to achieve.’

Samuel walked to the tip of the vessel, then sprang away like an arrow shot from a bow.  The sailors called and pointed, gasping at the sight once more.

‘Ease the sheets, Mister Chapman!’ Merryweather commanded his bosun.  ‘Keep us moving, but we don’t want to get any nearer to that thing than necessary.  Bring us wide.’

Leopold continued watching until Samuel had disappeared into the distance, lost amongst the clouds gathered around the mighty pillar’s head.

‘Where do you think it could have come from?’ Leopold asked.  He waited for a reply.  When none came he turned to Merryweather and was shocked to find the man locked rigid, seized stiff as if time had stopped around him.  Likewise, Mister Chapman and the crewmen next to him were entirely motionless.

Leopold reeled around to find the deck covered with such immobilised crew, the masts hung with unmoving human decorations.  He ran to the edge of the foredeck and looked down.  Everyone there was similarly affected.  Kali, Phoenix and Destiny were caught gazing out towards the island and Leopold hurried down the steps to see if he could help them.

The sea and sky were reflected in Kali’s dark eyes, but he could not move her.  Her brow was furrowed, frozen with concern.  Her skin was cold and hard, but she would not answer his calls and he could not move her even an inch.  In his efforts, he found he could lift her: then it occurred to him what might happen if he dropped her—would she break or shatter?—and he carefully removed his hands.

‘Intriguing, isn’t it?’

Leopold whirled about to find Lomar standing nearby, donned in magician’s robes, looking altogether like a taller, darker brother of Samuel.

‘This is your doing?’

‘Of course,’ Lomar replied.  ‘They will not be harmed.  I wanted to speak with you.’

‘Samuel will be back soon,’ he said, hoping to warn the magician from causing harm.

‘I realise that.  I don’t need long.  I’m only here to cast my words into your ear.  There is nothing you need fear ... my dear.’  He emphasised the rhyme of his words childishly, looking pleased with himself.

As the magician spoke, Leopold cast his thoughts towards the mountain in front of them.  The crewmen had been frozen before completing the change of course.  Some of the sails were unbalanced and now whipped about.  The breeze was light, so hopefully nothing would break for the time being.  It was only crashing into the almighty rock that worried him.

‘Like statues, aren’t they?’ Lomar said, inspecting the lifeless crew.  ‘Frozen in a single moment.  Look at their expressions!  You can virtually read each thought hanging off their faces.  That is the ultimate goal of many an artist, and here I have accomplished it with one quick flick of my hand.  I sometimes wished I had pursued some other talent—painting or sculpting perhaps.  I am definitely not a poet.  I am not so gifted with words, as you may have perceived.  But I do so admire artists of all kinds.  They capture fleeting moments of beauty and preserve them forever, in whatever medium they excel.  Mine is just a poor rendition, and these statues will all awaken soon enough.’

He strode to Kali and bent his face nearer to hers, pointing to her nose with a long finger.  ‘Look at her perfect little face?  Is that love I see in her eyes?’  Then he laughed to himself.  ‘No, it must be my imagination.  Still, I wonder what thought has been caught in her head.  And look at this one!’  He hurried to be in front of Phoenix.  ‘I think she is jealous!’  He sniggered to himself, before turning back to Leopold.  ‘How I enjoy observing such emotions, preserved and pure.  In life, such moments are so brief and far-between, but in clay and on paint, or chiselled from stone we may gaze upon such wonderment forever—inspiration at our fingertips.  How I envy those with the gift of creation, when I am only cursed with the power to destroy.’

‘Stop speaking tripe and get to business,’ Leopold told him impatiently.  ‘I know you’re not here to tell me such things as this.’

Lomar smiled again, amused at the young Emperor’s newfound courage.  ‘You are getting nearer to your destination, Leopold.  Poltamir—my old master—awaits.  Not here.  He left this fortress long ago.  He waits for you in Euda, ahead, upon his throne.  It is time to let you know everything.  The players are now set.  Samuel’s plan is near its fruition.  Your time to act is nearly at hand.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Samuel has been misleading you all along, as I am sure you know or suspect.  You are not a complete imbecile, after all.  He does not intend to kill the Demon King.  He is full of demons himself!  And he would never harm his son.  He never planned to.  This whole crusade has been to rescue Samuel’s son from the start.  He thinks his demon child will appreciate his efforts and love him in return, but I do not share such a meagre hope.  No, bringing this ship and all of you aboard has been the core of his plan.  If Samuel is to release his son from his duty, someone must inherit that legacy.  Simply severing it would be the end of us.  That is why he brought all of you here.  That is what this is all about.’

‘What are you talking about?  What duty are you talking about?’

‘Protecting us, of course,’ the tall magician explained.  ‘Marrag Lin, the Demon King as he is called, is the sole protector of this world, and although his methods have gained him the title of demon, he is really performing a crucial task.  He keeps the real demons at bay—the ones darker and far worse than him, that would strip this place of all life without reserve.  At least he spares a few of us.  That is what he has been trying to do all along—preserve humanity at any cost.  Admittedly the cost is high.’

‘You’re saying Samuel has been right all along?  That his son is good after all?’

‘Good?  No.  Doing some good?  Perhaps.  It does depend on your perspective.  Let’s just say he is the lesser of two evils.  If you compare decimation with total annihilation, I suppose one demon can look better than another.’

‘So what does this have to do with me?  With us?’

‘Samuel means to free his son, and take up his role as our protector.  That is why he has been preparing himself like this, gathering more power unto himself.  Not to destroy Lin, but to attain enough power to achieve the great leap, to leave his body altogether and become our god, the caretaker of us all—our shepherd if you will.  In truth, Marrag Lin has been the only god this world has ever known, if not a cruel one, and Samuel—named Darrig in his first incarnation—intends to become the next.’

‘Go on,’ Leopold prompted him, mindful of their approach towards the rock.

‘Time is short, but I will relay the true history of this world to you as quickly as I can.  It is important, if you are to understand what is happening now.  Once someone does become a god, or demon—for in truth there is little difference in my mind—they cannot arbitrarily return to a physical existence.  Gods and demons have no bodies, by their very definition.  They need a host to inhabit.  That is the role that Samuel has played until now, siring the Demon King back into the world to end each Age, but if Samuel leaves that position to become a god, it will be granted to another.’

‘Me?’ Leopold asked with concern.

Lomar grinned as if the notion was ridiculous.  ‘No.  He has other plans for you.  I suspect that Captain Orrell has been chosen for that task.’

‘The captain?  Why him?’

‘He is solid, reliable.  He has what it takes, and quite importantly, he is in love with Jessicah.  Samuel has done a spectacular job of manoeuvring the two together.  No doubt they would not suspect any effort on his behalf.  They shall be Samuel’s mother and father for eons to come, bearing him back into the world as required.  Once they are set to the task, their souls will become immortal, reborn every lifetime at opposite ends of the world, destined to forever search each other out, driven to it.’  Leopold rolled the prospect over in his mind.  ‘This is where you fit in.  It is not enough for Samuel to simply return to physical form.  There must be souls readied for him to harvest—plenty of them.  Samuel will chose some of his most trusted companions to stay behind, to farm humanity—to raise back the civilisations so they can be devoured upon his return.  Rei, Thann and Poltamir must be replaced.  That will be you, Leopold.  Faithful Daneel will be another and the last shall be her.’

Leopold followed the man’s subtle gesture.  ‘Kali?’

‘Yes.  That is why she is here, not to be your partner, as you obviously desire, but to be your competitor.  She is not capable of love, but she is certainly capable of war.  She is to you what Rei was to Thann.  That animosity proved very successful over the millennia.’

‘I find all this fantastic.’

‘Believe me, it is very real.  Samuel brought you along, sorting you from the others he had to consider ... others he has left by the wayside, people like Tulan.  You three have been chosen, Leopold, to be his sentinels, his guardians, his soldiers.  Everything is now in place.  All he needs is to defeat Poltamir and gather the last of the power he requires.’

‘So why are you telling me this?  Do you want me to stop him?’

‘That is up to you, Leopold.  I am only an observer.  Who am I to pass judgement?  Perhaps you would enjoy immortality?  To become one of his servants?’

‘Of course not.  I do not want such a curse.  Who would?’

‘Then there is little time remaining for you to act.  Samuel is transforming already.  He foolishly tainted himself with the black arts, and now he is losing control.  He thinks he can last, but the demons will overcome him long before his plan comes to realisation.  I’m sure you have seen something of this.’

‘I have,’ Leopold admitted.

‘And the more powerful he becomes, the faster it will happen.  Samuel becomes more dangerous with each victory—a danger to us and himself.  Hiding in his casket can only delay the inevitable.  Remember, Leopold, it is the nature of demons to be deceptive, to build your trust.  He may even believe he is following some noble cause, but do not doubt for an instant that the evil inside him is directing him as surely as a helmsman steers his ship.’

‘Are you saying that as soon as he kills Poltamir this will all happen?’

‘Almost certainly.  Obtaining that much power will put him past the brink.  Once he has defeated Poltamir we must act quickly.’

‘You make it sound like you want him to defeat your master.’

‘Oh, Poltamir is no longer my master.  I left his employ some time ago.  Poltamir is not the man he was.  He became obsessed with power and I could not subject myself to his abominable company.  Now, I only seek to undo the wrongs of my past.  That was his citadel.’  He gestured towards the almighty pillar that stood from the ocean.  ‘But he abandoned it and went to Euda ... where the people are.’

‘But you know where Samuel’s son is, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Lomar said, with a sly smile.  ‘Fortunately, I found him first, but I am not telling.  I looked far and wide and stumbled upon him quite by accident.  I cannot tell you, or Samuel would surely pluck the answer from your head.’

‘Do you have him with you now?’ Leopold asked, fishing for clues.

‘I do not.  It is the truth that I was responsible for losing the child and that did cause something of a rift between Poltamir and I.  Still, it matters little.’

Leopold was dubious of it all.  ‘Why are you so set against Samuel?  What did he ever do to you?  Can’t you just help us and end this terrible mess?’

‘Oh, I am helping you.  You will discover that soon enough.  As for Samuel, he was only ever guilty of being my friend.  I am not set against him at all.  Quite the opposite, I have been trying to save him from himself all this time.  Believe me, Leopold.  You must trust me, or all is lost.’

‘Trust you?  A man who steals children from their mothers?  From what I understand, you have cheated everyone you ever met.  It was you who took me and my mother to Rei when I was just a boy.  She almost killed us.’

‘Ah yes, an error of judgement on my part, but I remained there to keep you safe—to amend my failure.  Such things were necessary to get close to Cang and stop his insane plan.  I could certainly not challenge him with brute force; I was not so competent a magician back then.  You see, I could not let Cang kill the Demon King, or we would all be dead right now—or worse.  If Starfall had indeed been successful, even unlikely as it was, the countless demons that Marrag Lin kept at bay would have been upon us.  In my folly I followed one mistake with another.  I followed Poltamir’s instructions to the letter—until I learned he had selfish plans in store for the King of Demons.  He wanted to use him and find a way to steal his power and I could not bear to be part of it.  I am now doing my best to make everything well, despite how it may seem.  We all must sometimes do things that appear unsavoury to outside observers.  I am sure you have some experience of that, Your Majesty.’

‘Very well,’ Leopold said hesitantly.  ‘It seems I have no choice but to believe you.  What do I need to do?’

‘After Poltamir, he will find his boy.  Let me know when that happens.  That will be the time to act.  But for now, just keep doing as you are.  Before I leave, I do need you to tell me just one thing.  It is very important.  Tell me, what is now in Samuel’s casket?’  The tall magician waited expectantly, brimming with anticipation.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Leopold asked suspiciously.

‘It is important I know, in case he is plotting something else.  I cannot open the box in this ethereal form and I do not risk coming here myself.  Is the old fool in there?  Is Salu, the brother of Janus Anthem, inside the box?’

Leopold considered denying it, but knew it was pointless.  ‘He is.’

‘Ah.  I felt a sudden flare of power just before he vanished.  It must have been a considerable battle for Salu to need the sanctuary of the casket, and he has been in there ever since.’  He mulled over his thoughts.  ‘If Samuel cannot cure the old man, he must be seeking more power from Poltamir to do so.’

Leopold was not about to correct him.  Lomar snapped himself from his thoughts and returned his attention to Leopold.  ‘You know, I sought out Salu many years ago, just as did Samuel—just as many of us did, when we had no one else to turn to.  I did not take nearly so long to find him as Samuel, as I had already been plotting his wanderings for many years.  I followed the old fool for many months, hanging on every deranged word that fell from his lips.  Finally, from the detritus of his maddened utterings, I gathered one precious bead of sagacity.’

‘What was that?’ Leopold asked.

‘He told me of the Void.’

‘The Void?’

‘The Void.  A wonderful place that I have been seeking ever since.  A place that is pure in every sense, free of the evils of demons and the tinkering of fools.  It is the only true answer to this constant peril we face, stuck in the middle between devils that wish to consume us, and meddlers like Samuel that wish to prolong our pain.  One day, I hope to find it.  It is only a matter of time, if only I can stop Samuel from destroying us in the meantime.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Well, that is the tricky part,’ the magician admitted.

‘Now I recall, Salu mentioned something of The Void to me as well.’

‘He did?  Salu?’ Lomar said with a sudden enthusiasm.  ‘What did he say?’

‘Oh ... I can’t rightly recall at this moment.  I had quite a lot of other things to contend with at the time.’

‘Ah ...’ the magician said disappointedly.

Leopold hoped Samuel would return quickly, but remembered his instructions to keep Lomar talking.  ‘But something just doesn’t add up.’

‘What’s that?’ Lomar asked, summoned again from his thoughts.

‘If you are trying to stop Samuel, why are you releasing these beasts across the world?’

‘Oh, I’m not,’ Lomar said.  ‘That is squarely Samuel’s work.  What better way to keep everyone in favour than to summon a monster, then act the hero dispatching it?  He is a demon in the making, your Samuel, and a clever one.  Isn’t it he who has killed all the magicians?  And he destroys the relics, the only tools of salvation that common men may use to defend themselves.  Yes, Samuel has begun his work of devouring the world, soul by soul.  Every death adds to his power.  He may even convince himself he is doing good at times, but that is his nature.  He will never tell you the truth.  He doesn’t know it himself.  His demons pervade him.  There will always be something he hides in every explanation—the hidden keystone that keeps all his deceit from unravelling.  If you think Rei has a silver tongue, Samuel is by far her better.  She is a timid little princess in comparison.’

‘But when would he have the opportunity to do all that?’

‘He has plenty of opportunity.  I am sure he is often skulking about, unseen for days.  He is certainly not sitting idle in his cabin all that time.’

Leopold was not convinced.  He had only just come around to Samuel being on his side.

Someone else then spoke up, and Leopold and Lomar were equally surprised.

‘You are certainly one to speak of lies,’ said Jessicah, trotting down the stairs from her room.

‘Jessicah?’ Leopold queried as she stopped beside him.

‘It’s me,’ she confirmed.

‘What’s happening?  How did you get out of your room?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said.  ‘Rei has been keeping me locked away more and more.  I woke up several moments ago, alone.  I called to the guards and they did not answer.’

‘How intriguing,’ Lomar said, observing the woman with interest.  ‘It seemed only Rei fell victim to my spell, leaving her beautiful young captive to roam free, albeit only temporarily.  Samuel will have to do something about that.’

‘He’s working on it,’ Leopold replied darkly.

Lomar looked towards the tower.  ‘Hmm.’  Far away, a black speck of fluttering cloth could still be seen circling the mighty stone.  ‘Samuel will return soon.  I will be away before he finds me.  Remember what I have told you, Leopold.  The moment of reckoning is at hand.  When it comes, you must be ready.’

Something caught his attention as he finished speaking.  His tilted his head, listening intently.

‘Ah ...’ Lomar said with realisation.  ‘Very clever, Samuel.  I presume you have been here the whole time.  My senses are not so keen in this form.  Although I should have guessed.’

‘Of course,’ replied the voice of the magician, seeming to echo from all around.  Leopold looked towards the great pillar, but the flying shape had vanished, nothing more than an illusion to bait the trap.  ‘I must admit it was difficult to remain silent throughout your amusing discourse, but it did allow me to examine your Journey Spell quite closely.  I’ve been hoping to learn some of your refinements for quite a while.  I must say you’ve done a fine job—sending your image, hearing and seeing from such a distance.  It’s just what I’ve been looking for.  Now, let me be first to formally welcome you aboard the Farstride.’

‘What!’ Lomar declared, flabbergasted.  He flapped his hands and stamped about on the deck with rage, although the cause was not immediately apparent.  ‘Why—how have you done this?  I should not be here!’

‘But you are here, old friend.  I reached through your spell and untied the other end.  Now you are here in more than just spirit.  I have brought your flesh and blood through to join you.  Did you not notice?  You are here, whether you like it or not.’

‘Damn you!’ Lomar roared furiously.

‘And don’t try leaving in a hurry; I won’t allow it.  It seems we have some talking to do—about my son.  You can begin by telling me where he is.’

Lomar eyed Leopold sideways.  ‘You see, boy?  He is deviously clever.  This is what you must contend with and overcome.  You have to catch me first!’ he called back to Samuel.

‘Very well,’ came the reply and a black blur exploded from nowhere before anyone had time to react.

The magician struck Lomar like a thunderbolt.  The ship shuddered with the impact and Lomar vanished, thrown clear into the sea, skipping across the water’s surface like a tossed stone, sending sheets of transparent spray to either side.  When he slowed the ocean swallowed him with a plop, while Samuel arced up and way into the sky.

Gobsmacked, Leopold thought the matter may be finished already, but a geyser erupted from the sea and Lomar rocketed from the top of it, sailing up to meet Samuel high above.  They fought in the sky, wisps of white cloud trailing behind them.  They circled and collided with resounding booms and crashes, and Leopold was thankful the men chose to battle so far away.  The brute force of their conflict would surely do them all harm if nearby.

‘What do we do?’ Jessicah asked.

Leopold looked to their north-east, for they were closing on the towering stone island and it was now looming in front of them.  ‘We need to turn this ship.  If not, our voyage is going to end very shortly.’

She looked to the crew all frozen in place around them, scores of them still holding onto their ropes.  ‘Can we do it?’

‘We must try,’ he said.

‘How?’

Leopold was thoughtful before answering.  ‘We cut the ropes, drop the sails.’

‘Won’t that leave us adrift?  We’ll be helpless.’

‘You’re right,’ he admitted.  ‘Given the situation, that could leave us worse off.  I’ll try turning the rudder, but that’s not going to achieve much without also adjusting the sails.’

He made his way below the aftcastle and Jessicah followed.  They ducked and weaved along the passageways and corridors until they found the tiller, buried several decks down.

‘How does it work?’ Jessicah asked, passing her eyes over the complex mechanism that filled the room, centralised by a large, rear-facing hand wheel.

‘The rudder is too heavy to turn by hand, so this does the job for us.  It’s all gears and levers.’

‘Can I help?’ she asked him as he glanced over the equipment.

‘Just stand back,’ he warned.  There was a funnel that led up through the ceiling for relaying commands from on deck, and beside that was the locking arm.  Leopold slammed it out of position and spun the wheel.  Heavy gears rumbled into motion.  ‘Oh.  That’s not right.’  He stopped and reversed direction, spinning the wheel back the other way.  He paused occasionally to check markings on several of the cogs, until finally, ‘That should do it,’ he announced.  ‘Too much at once and I’m not sure what will happen.’

‘I can’t feel anything.’

‘That’s good.  A ship this size and sudden changes can cause all sorts of damage.  Come on.’

He darted back out the way they had come and Jessicah followed close behind him, soon stepping out onto the main deck.

Poltamir’s citadel had grown uncomfortably close.  They could see the waves pounding up against its slick, grey sides and it was now clear they were not going to skim past it at all—they would smash directly into its face.

‘Blast it!’ Leopold swore and looked to the sky.  There was no sign of the two magicians, but the sounds of their battle echoed from the heavens, banging and blasting within the clouds.  ‘I’ve got to let out the drivers.’  He set about climbing onto the aft deck.  They passed the immobile crew, edging past them carefully where necessary, and Leopold wondered if they were still awake and could see and hear what was happening around them.  He hoped not.

He drew his sword on the move and ran around one of the huge triangular sails at the back of the ship, commencing hacking at its ropes.  The sail slackened, and fell rolling to the deck.  He did the same for the enormous twin sail beside it.

Leopold waited, catching his breath and, slowly, just within perception, the ship began to turn with the wind.

‘Is it enough?’ Jessicah asked.

‘It has to be.’

The wall of stone loomed in front of them, enormous spirals and impossibly high motifs ingrained in its surface, gigantic patterns chiselled across its face.  There was no sign of window or wall in that solid block of stone.  It climbed upwards, endlessly towards the heavens.  Clouds still gathered around its top, but they were darker now, angrier, as if in protest that the tiny ship at its foot might just escape, or more likely, they had been churned up by the battling magicians.

Leopold ran to the port side and looked ahead.  Slowly, but surely enough, the Farstride was turning, and at last he could see a gap of daylight between the side of the hull and the pillar ahead.  ‘We’re going to make it!’

They were close, perhaps only twenty strides away—Leopold could have thrown a stone against its side—but the Farstride squeezed past, edging by the ominous stone in near silence.  It was strange to be aboard the ship and for everything to be so quiet.

Only the wind still whispered as she filled the sails.  Then, alarmingly, the sailcloth loosened and the wind lulled.

They entered the shadow of the stone, shielded from the breeze, and in response, the Farstride slowed, making Leopold all the more nervous.  There was no indication of how the battle was faring above, but there was a mighty series of clamours now coming from within the tower.

They continued very slowly, and as the minutes passed they re-entered the wind.  From then, every moment had the pillar further behind them, and the wind blowing stronger in their sails, and they were picking up speed with it.

With a menacing boom, and much to Leopold’s disbelief and dismay, the tower began to sink.  It slid away, disappearing into the sea at an astonishing rate, its massive carved decorations vanishing one after another beneath the waves.

‘What’s happening?’ Jessicah cried out with alarm.

‘I don’t know,’ Leopold replied.  ‘But I think we’d better hold on.’

The column continued to descend, thundering into the sea, already a quarter of its height diminished.  The ocean shuddered and the waves were thrown to chaos, rushing every which way, colliding together and slapping themselves apart.

Leopold dreaded what would happen next, for he feared what might occur when the pinnacle vanished altogether.  He remembered the wall of water that had engulfed Cintar.

So near, they were at its mercy.  There was nothing they could do except run to the back of the ship and watch on as the last of its height disappeared, swallowed into the sea.  When the flattened stone top vanished there was no surge of water or mighty wave.  It was worse than that.  The citadel continued its descent, leaving a vacant space behind it the size of an island, and into that the ocean began to plunge.

The pillar of stone had left an abysmal gulf in its wake, as wide as fifteen Farstrides, and the sea was roaring into it, like water spiralling down a drain hole, gathering speed as it churned and twirled, foaming white.

‘Oh dear,’ Leopold said.

‘What is that?’ Jessicah asked anxiously.

‘Trouble,’ was all Leopold could reply.  ‘Where is that damn magician when we need him?’ he uttered under his breath.

Their ship lost speed.  The water was dragging them towards the hole faster than the wind was blowing them.  The sudden disappearance of the stone must have also upset the sky, for the clouds had been thrown into turmoil and the wind was rising to a gale.

‘Grab an axe!’ Leopold told her, picking one up from a nearby bracket, and he ran.

She followed him, all the way back to the main deck, where he readied by one of the mast poles.  Driving rain fell and the wind squalled.

‘What are we doing?’ she yelled, already dripping with water and holding her axe by her shoulder, not even sure what she was going to chop.

‘We’ve got to bring the stern around quickly or we’re going straight into that hole.  We drop the mainsails and leave the forward jibs intact.  The drag should shift us around.’

‘I thought you said sudden changes might tear the ship apart?’

‘Do you have a better idea?’ he shouted back to her, for the thundering noises of the whirlpool and the rising roar of the wind was making it all the harder to hear.

He lifted his axe above his head and brought it down hard against the deck, cutting through the thick rope that a score of frozen crew were holding.  One side of the lowest squares of cloth fell.  The men holding the rope fell backwards onto the decking, like figurines tipped over, the rope still threaded through their hands.  Thankfully they did not shatter or break as Leopold had feared.

He ran to the other side of the deck, where another team was in the midst of pulling their rope.  He cut that one and the teamsters also toppled.  The sail now dropped completely limp.  Looking up, that was one sail of the six on that mast alone.  He swallowed hard.  There was not much time.

Jessicah followed him closely.  ‘Which ones should I cut?’

He looked to her bleakly, for she was holding the axe-head the wrong way around, pointed towards herself.  She followed his gaze and realised her error, quickly righting the head to be away from her.

‘Give me that.’  He took her axe and buried its head into the deck with one sound swing of his arm.  ‘Remember the rudder mechanism?’  She nodded fiercely.  ‘Go find it again and spin it all the way until it doesn’t stop.  The same way I turned it.  Can you do that?’

‘Of course!’ she told him.  ‘I can use an axe you know!’

‘It’s not that,’ he told her.  ‘I can just do it faster alone.  And I need that rudder turned all the way.’

‘What do I do after that?’ she asked.

‘Shut the door.  Stay there.  Hold on as tight as you can.’

She understood his meaning and ran as quickly as she could, lifting her skirts to help speed her way.

Leopold turned resolutely back to his plan.  With a roar of determination he rushed to the nearest sheet and swung his axe.  Chopping was faster than undoing the line, and like that he worked from mast to mast, cutting the ropes whether they were fixed or held by motionless crew.  Sail by sail the cloth fell, until only the triangular jibs at the front of the ship were still in place.

Together with Jessicah’s efforts below deck, the Farstride indeed began to turn.  The fierce wind was pushing on them, but the heavy rear end of the ship was dragged sideways.  The timbers groaned under the strain, until she lay perpendicular to their direction of travel, just as Leopold had hoped.

And just in good time, for a cavernous space awaited beside the ship.  Leopold held to the railing and his heart almost stopped when he saw the yawning hole.  The Farstride was teetering on the lip of it, then she began to roll as she went over.  Leopold held on as tightly as he could as the ship plunged sideways down the edge of the vortex.

The raging wind chose that moment to tear the jibs away completely, leaving only one remaining, torn and fluttering.

Despite this, Leopold’s plan had been realised.  Instead of impacting the whirlpool directly, they met its turning edge, and the rotating water drew them around, following the rim of the plunging spiral.  At its centre, a vast waterfall ringed a chasm of blackness.

‘That’s it,’ Leopold said to himself, looking at the storm clouds above.  ‘I’ve done all I can do.’

The ship continued to list, now almost one third the way over, and the frozen crew tumbled over the side of the ship in droves.  Leopold grabbed the cut lengths of rope and tied as many together as he could.  It was slow work, running rings around the deck and looping people’s arms and legs, threading it through their belts, tying the ends securely to the sturdiest fixtures he could find.  He took special care with Kali, Phoenix and Destiny, wrapping the rope around their waists and knotting them carefully to avoid breaking their limbs should the lines snap tight—a luxury he could not extend to most of the men.

Jessicah appeared from a hatchway, making a wavering trail towards him.

‘I told you to stay put!’ he yelled.  He had barely finished securing half of those on the main deck.  On the other decks, there was little he could do.

‘I don’t think it’s going to make much difference!’ she cried back, her eyes wide as she observed their predicament.  An earthly howl emanated from the black hole as air rushed in, above the din of the wind, rain and rushing water.

‘Here,’ he said and pulled her over, strapping her to the railing beside Kali.  ‘Hold on tight.  You never know.  We may just survive.  Stranger things have happened.’

It was then that everyone sprang back to life.  Without exception, every person still standing fell over.  Those who had already been tipped onto their sides due to Leopold’s rope cutting or the tilting of the ship thrashed in confusion until they realised where they were.  Many near the downward side of the deck were overcome with surprise, lost balance and fell overboard.  Nearly every figure in the masts, some forty men at that stage, fell—most into the sea, some onto the deck.  Shouts of dismay and horror came from everyone, for on one side they were met with a looming wall of torrential water, towering high above the masts of the ship, on the other an abysmal gulf.  Many more lives would have been lost if not for Leopold’s ropes, but scores went tumbling over the side to their sure deaths.

‘What is this?’ Jessicah asked aloud with confusion, Rei awakening within her.  Her eyes came around to see the great mouth in the sea, and she too filled with panic.  Her chin moved, but she failed to find any words.  At least she had the good sense to clutch the railing.

‘Hold tight!’ Mister Chapman bellowed, and his voice, heard by those nearby, did rouse many to take hold of anything fixed nearby to them.

‘Mister Chapman!  Get us out of here!’ cried Captain Merryweather, before the both of them looked up to the empty masts, sparking bewilderment.

‘Get everyone to tie on or hold tight,’ Leopold yelled into their faces.

The bosun did not ask questions, and relayed the commands.  The men, as terrified as they were, went to work swiftly and obediently, strapping themselves to the railings where possible.  Some soldiers came pelting out from below decks, confused by what had happened.  One could not stop and continued running right over the side into the sea while the others grabbed onto the doorway for dear life.  Captain Orrell burst onto the deck and skidded onto his face.  He recovered quickly and he looked to Rei with concern and a bloodied nose.

‘Stay there!’ Leopold shouted, for crossing the deck was too dangerous.

The captain attempted to cross despite Leopold’s cries, and each time he fell and was forced to turn back.  He looked hopelessly desperate, and was finally forced to hold onto the doorway, exhausted from his efforts.

‘Leopold!’ Kali called.  ‘What is happening?’

‘We’re in trouble.  Just hold on!’ he replied.

Something fell from the skies.  It landed right beside them and when it stood, cloaked in black, they saw it was Samuel.

‘Can you not stop this thing?’ Merryweather asked urgently.

‘I’m afraid not,’ the magician replied, looking about the deck with consternation.

‘Then what can we do?’ Leopold asked.

‘Quiet,’ Samuel said and closed his eyes.

They followed his advice, all too fearful to talk, while the Farstride continue to lean.  They proceeded along their spiralling course to the centre of the whirlpool.  Crewmen wailed and more were lost, unable to hold on any longer.  Some were trapped where they were and could not reach any rope, washed away by the surging waters that spewed across the deck.

‘What’s he doing?’ Kali cried.  ‘This is no time for prayers!’

‘I don’t know,’ Leopold responded.  ‘I only hope it is magic.’

The ship was now broaching forty-five degrees, with more of the maelstrom’s wall now above them than below.  They needed hope and when a shuddering ran through their feet, Leopold thought a spell was taking form.  When nothing wondrous happened and the shuddering only intensified, it became obvious that something unfortunate was happening deep in the bowels of the ship.

‘What is it?’ Leopold asked.

Captain Merryweather’s face was as white as a ghost.  ‘The ballast has shifted.  We’re done for.’

Indeed, following his words there was a mighty jolt as all the stones in the lowest hold of the ship slammed into the downside hull.  With all the weight on one side, the Farstride rolled.  Men screamed and fell away as the deck became a vertical wall.  Timber groaned.  Planks snapped.  The last sight they were going to witness before plunging underwater was the massive void in the sea beside them.  Only the magician remained upright and without support, stuck out from the deck sideways like a human nail.

‘Leopold!’ a woman screamed, but the voice was lost in the deafening chaos as the ship completed her roll, tumbling upside down.

Then, a flash of light and everything changed.  The Farstride flickered from existence and reappeared in the same instant, far away and the right side up.

Leopold’s stomach rose up into his throat as a sense of rising vertigo overtook him.  In a moment of panic he swivelled his head and saw the whirlpool and the great clouds of spray above it in the distance, below a shattered sky of dark clouds and rain.

There was an unusual sensation of weightlessness, and then Leopold realised he was falling.  Indeed, they all were, along with the whole ship.

‘Hold tight!’ he shouted, but there was little need, for anyone not tied firmly had already been lost.

The airborne ship slammed into the sea, and Leopold collided into the deck, feeling as if his bones had all been smashed.  The nose of the Farstride buried itself deep and it looked as though the vessel was going to continue its path straight to the sea floor, until she levelled out and rose again, clawing her way to the surface.  Tonnes of seawater spread as waves across the deck, covering them all and filling their mouths and eyes, spilling over the edges of the deck.

Like almost everyone still alive, Leopold could not bring himself to move.  He shuddered, gasping, petrified with horror, expecting some other catastrophe to appear and steal him away.

As the moments passed, people coughed and stammered.  Hatches were kicked open and crewmen appeared like startled vagrants venturing into daylight.

The forward masts were gone altogether and half the ship was a wreck.  Of all the people on deck, only thirty still remained.

Leopold turned over his shoulder to check on Kali.  She and her sisters were gone.

‘What in blazes is happening?’ Rei shouted, sopping wet as everyone.

People realised they were safe and alive, and they cut themselves free from their ropes.  Many had grazes and burns from their bindings, many broken limbs.  Some were limp, still tied in place, fainted or dead—Leopold had no way to tell.

Captain Orrell hurried over, saturated with water and with blood running from the side of his face, hurrying to check on Jessicah and looking furious.

‘What happened, Magician?’ he demanded.

‘We survived,’ was Samuel’s reply.  ‘You best get her back to her cabin,’ he said, referring to Rei.  ‘We don’t want her making any further trouble while she has the opportunity.’

‘You are doing a fine job of killing everyone yourself!’ she scoffed.

Captain Orrell took that as a signal to throw her over his shoulder and he started off to put her back in her room ... whatever remained of it.  She did not resist, cackling and laughing all the way.

Captain Merryweather had recovered from his initial shock and he and Mister Chapman were making calls to search for the dead and injured, to set to work checking for damage.  The deck was noticeably tilted, but that could not be righted until the ballast had been evened out and the bilges pumped dry.  Remarkably, those men that survived dragged themselves to the tasks immediately.

‘Come on, Turians!’ Chapman bellowed.  ‘We can mourn the dead once we join them in the afterworld!  Now there’s work to be done!  Get to it!  Haul your sorry arses!’

Those on deck had suffered the worst, and from below more men came to help.  Toby scampered into the sunshine, baffled by the scene, but it took him only moments to begin dancing on the watery deck, splashing in the puddles and slapping at the water with his hands.

There was no sign of Kali, Phoenix or Destiny.  Leopold hoped they had freed themselves and were helping the wounded, but he could find them nowhere; none of the men had seen them.  Leopold asked man after man, but the response was always the same.  He ran from deck to deck, checking in doorways and looking in cabins, in every room without result ... Kali was nowhere upon the ship.

The terrible truth dawned on him that she had been lost, washed overboard with so many others.  He searched for tears, but his heart felt empty.  He was too exhausted for grief.

He returned to the aft deck and looked behind them.  The ship was floating, barely moving without her sails, pushed along by the softening breeze against her hull.  The trail of floating debris and bodies in the water showed the short distance they had drifted since Samuel had cast his spell and saved them.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold cried, having found the magician in his cabin, checking his casket.  The room was a wreck, like so many others, filled with water up to the ankles, but the sturdy coffin appeared unmoved.  ‘Help me!  I think Kali and her sisters are lost.  Please, help me find them.’

The magician paused.  Leopold feared he was going to refuse or say something confounding, but he simply pointed to the rearmost wall.

‘What?’ Leopold asked, confused.

‘She’s there.  Not far,’ Samuel told him.  ‘I can feel her.  Kali is hurt, but alive.  Of Phoenix and Destiny, I do not know.  Check behind the ship.’

‘I’ve been there.  There’s nothing.’

‘Check behind the ship,’ the magician repeated sternly.

Leopold was away like the wind, as fast as his legs would carry him, filled with renewed hope.  Of the bodies he had seen floating, all were men.  Perhaps Kali was amongst them, unconscious or treading water.

He arrived and grabbed onto the railing, leaning out as far as he could over the sea, peering into the distance for any sign of her.  His eyes were drawn down.  A rope near his wrist was tangled and knotted around some wreckage, hanging over the edge.  He followed its length, and there, hanging halfway to the water was a shape, hanging upside down, snagged by the leg.

‘Kali!’ he yelled, but she was motionless.  He grabbed hold of the rope, careful not to dislodge it and drop her down, and he began to haul her up.  ‘Help me!’ he called over his shoulder, and two bedraggled soldiers came to their Emperor’s aid.

For a lean woman, she was remarkably difficult to lift, but finally Leopold reached her leg and then her middle and then they were carefully bringing her over the side and placing her on the deck.  Her eyes were closed.  Blood was streaming out from beneath her hair, pouring over her forehead in alarming volumes.

‘Bandages!’ Leopold told the men.

One scooted away as quickly as he could with a dutiful, ‘Yes, Your Majesty!’

Leopold pressed his hand on the wound.  ‘Kali, can you hear me?  Kali.  You’re alive!’

His heart leapt with joy when she moaned.  She blinked and opened her eyes.

‘Don’t move,’ he told her.  ‘You’re hurt.’

She rolled her head, searching either side.  ‘Where are my sisters?’

‘I do not know.’

She looked at him intensely, thoughts running through her mind.

‘Stay still,’ he told her as she tried to stand, but she would not listen to him.

She climbed to her feet and observed the wreck of the Farstride with a blank face.  She looked to Leopold, went to say something, and stopped.  Taking him by surprise, she hugged onto him tightly and sobbed.  He held her as tightly as he could in return.  She said nothing and he said nothing.  At any other time, it would have been a dream come true, but Leopold felt so wretched, yet so glad to be alive, that all he could do was onto hold her and let all his fears fall away.

****

It took seven days to fix enough of the ship to have them on their way again.  Samuel spent the first three of those in his cabin, struggling to contain his demons after the battle with Lomar.  After that, he emerged only hesitantly to check on the work, looking out at their progress with eyes dazzled from the sun.

In one way, it was fortunate they had lost so many men, for they were light on provisions due to Samuel’s hurry.  Much of their supplies had also been ruined.  As it was, and with their significant delay, strict rationing was needed to last out the journey.

The work went slowly, and when they were ready to depart, the Farstride limped away, barely a shadow of her former self.  Captain Orrell’s Turian soldiers were now needed to help the crew with their day-to-day tasks, and they went at the task with vigour; no complaints or mutterings from them.  They worked side by side with the sailors as if born to it.

Kali was quiet during that time.  Leopold sought her out frequently for she was suffering from her loneliness—the only Koian and only woman on the ship.  Jessicah did not count, tied and bound as she was.  Possessed by the witch she was not particularly good company.

Leopold rapped softly on Samuel’s door when they first hauled sails, announcing their readiness to depart.

‘Come,’ sounded the ragged voice from inside.

Leopold let himself in.  Samuel was sitting in a chair opposite the door, with his palms laid flat on the armrests, as if he had been watching the doorway all morning.

‘I feel we are underway,’ he said before Leopold could grant him the news.  He looked gaunt.  His cheekbones were sticking out.  His hood was drawn up around his head, as if its shadows were comforting.

‘How are you?’ Leopold asked.

The magician nodded slowly, thoughtfully.  ‘I am alive, Leopold.  My guests are now resting.’  He placed his palm on his chest to illustrate.  ‘I sense we lost many.  Phoenix and Destiny are gone, but Kali at least remains.’

‘Yes,’ Leopold replied solemnly.

‘The ship is moving.  At what capacity?’

‘Captain Merryweather said we can return to sixty percent capacity by nightfall.  The ship was prepared well.  There were spares for nearly everything that was broken.  What he did not have, he made or improvised.’

‘Ah.  That is well.’

‘But the wind is not so favourable, so he does not expect us to track well.’

‘There is not much I can do about that at the moment.  We will just have to make do.  The Great Spell took quite a lot out of me.  I was already tired after chasing after Lomar ... but I did not see much choice if I was to save you.’

‘Believe me, everyone is very thankful, Lord Samuel.’

‘Leopold,’ the magician said, looking up from within his hood.  ‘We have been through much together.  I wanted to teach you many things, but I am tired now and just want to have this over with.  Do not call me Lord any more.  I really don’t like it.  Only pompous Turians call me that—and Lady Wind, because she is a woman of habit.’

‘So why have you insisted I use it all this time?’

‘You know very well why, Leopold.  For the same reason I set you to so many pointless and arduous tasks.  I wanted you to be better ... and you are better.  In fact, I do not doubt you would be so even without my pointless tampering.  You are not my student or servant or any of those things.  You are a grown man, and I count you as my friend.  Leopold, I am sorry for breaking your heart.  I am sorry for bringing you here.  It was necessary and I never had any choice, but still, I am sorry.’

‘I understand,’ Leopold replied.  ‘I have forgiven you already.’

‘You did a fine job of saving the ship.  If not for you, I would have been too late and nothing I could have done would have saved anyone.’

‘I did what I had to do.’

‘You did, and it was excellent.’

‘So you were there the whole time?’ Leopold asked Samuel.  ‘While Lomar and I were talking?’

‘I was.’

‘Then you heard everything.  I hope you realise I was not fooled by him.’

‘I do, Leopold.’

‘And you learned everything you needed to.’

‘I did.  He crafts an elegant spell, our elusive friend Lomar, I grant him that.’

‘What happened?  Why did the island fall?’

‘Lomar caused it.  It was the only way he could escape.  I was so close to catching him ... and he knew I could not resist saving you.  The sight of that stone slipping away, and the sheer chaos it left behind was just beautiful.  I was so busy watching it that I nearly failed to notice the Farstride disappearing down its throat.’

‘I thought it was monstrous.’

‘Monstrously beautiful, perhaps.  I find all the most powerful and destructive forces to be creations of beauty.  I cannot help but appreciate them.  Such raw energy, such elegance, patterns of power so wonderfully aligned.  It takes my breath away.’

‘I’m afraid I cannot share your opinion.  I only saw something horrible.’

‘Because you don’t see how I see, Leopold.  Don’t worry.  I hope you never do.  Once you start to fall in love with such things, it is the first step from humanity.  Disasters, battles, massacres—I have seen men weep with joy at the sight of them, not in madness, but with marvel.  I hope you never become like that, Leopold.  It was a failing that overcame your father for many years, until his mind was changed.’

‘What changed it?’

‘Many things, but most of all, I think it was you.’

Leopold smiled and with the magician now lowering his head and sighing, he knew it was time to leave.  Quietly, he retreated from the room.

****

It was evening of the sixth day after resuming their journey and Leopold met Kali upon the deck.  He had convinced her to meet him each night at such a time and when possible he spent the daylight hours with her as well, as much to be in her company as to keep her mind from her losses.

‘We are nearly there,’ he told her.  Toby was playing by their feet.

‘We are.’

‘Will you truly go back to Koia after this is over?’

‘Of course,’ she told him.  ‘If it is possible.  I do not know the plans of this ship, but if there is a way for me to return, I will find it.  I will return to my home and continue my duties.’

He bathed in her presence.  He poured himself into the beauty of her feline features.  ‘You could return to Amandia with us.’

‘That is kind of you to offer, but my path lies towards my home.  I am a Koian warrior.’  She smiled, a sad but contented smile.

He did not know what overcame him; he had not planned it and had worked furiously to keep such thoughts from his mind, but Leopold reached out and took her hands in his.  She did not resist.  He stepped in and closed his eyes and placed his lips to hers.

Her mouth responded and she welcomed his kiss.  Those few moments felt like precious centuries, but when he opened his eyes—just a crack to peek at her face—his elation vanished.

Disturbingly, he saw her eyes wide open all the while, her face hollow of emotion.

He drew back.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked him.

‘I would ask you the same thing.’

‘Not at all, Leopold.  I am sorry if I did not act correctly.  I thought you wanted me to kiss you.  I did not want to offend you.’

The flat, explanative tone of her voice was crushing.  He dropped her hands and stepped away.  Never had he felt so disappointed.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry.  I should have known.’

‘Known what?’  She was hopelessly ignorant to his feelings.

‘That you felt nothing for me.  That you cannot possibly ever do so.’

‘I am sorry, Your Majesty.  It is true.  I am fond of you and I am glad for your company, but that is the extent of it.  It can never be any more than that.’

‘Then why did you kiss me?’

‘I did not want you to be offended.’

‘So you said,’ he muttered back.

‘Have I upset you?’

‘No,’ he lied.  ‘I was foolish to have wanted ... to have thought that ...’  He trailed away, realising it was futile to go on.  ‘I’m sorry.  We will arrive tomorrow.  I am sure you must have preparations in mind.  Forget what just happened.  It was silly of me to make assumptions.  It was wrong of me to expect any different.’

‘It is true—I have things to prepare.  Then I shall take your leave,’ she said, unfazed.

He nodded, unable to face her as she walked away.  He felt like a fool.  He knew he should never have raised his hopes, but he could not help it.  He wanted to be with her with every part of his existence.

‘It hurts, doesn’t it?’ came the voice of the magician.  Leopold whirled around and the man was not far away, leaning against the point where the two halves of the ship met in a pursed nip of railing.

‘Have you been there all the while?’ Leopold asked with annoyance.  ‘Why does everyone spy on me?’

‘I was not spying, and yes I have been here a while.  I didn’t want to be seen, for my own privacy, but you two came over, nearly stomping on me.’

‘What hurts?  What are you talking about?’

‘Loss.  Heartbreak.  I used to wonder if love was worth it, if those things needed to exist.  It seems unfair that such miserable feelings can befall us so often.  Love can be so difficult to find ... and so difficult to keep.’

‘Well?’ Leopold prompted after some silence.  ‘Is it worth it?’

‘Of course,’ the magician responded.  ‘You cannot have love without heartache.  They are two sides of the same coin.  The alternative would be to have no feeling at all, and that would be awful.’

In his present mood, Leopold could only grunt a partial agreement.  ‘Samuel, I have wanted to ask you something for a long time.’

‘What is it?’ the magician replied.

‘You told me that Tulan was once your closest friend.  Did you really feel nothing when he died?  Is it possible to be that detached from loss?’

‘I felt pain, Leopold.  Of course I did.  It is certainly possible to make oneself feel nothing, so that emotions bounce off the skin.  My quest has made me feel like that on many occasions, but I am not a monster as you are suggesting—not yet.’

‘Could you not have done something to save him, instead of letting Daneel murder him?  He was your friend.’

‘Possibly, but I did not.’

Leopold nodded thoughtfully.

‘He would have kept going until he either killed me or someone near to me, Leopold.  He was obsessed, driven, and I can’t blame him.  He lost everything, his whole country, and he focussed his blame on me.  He needed that, to survive.  Daneel has changed, too.  He had a wife and child, and lost them both to Rei’s Order.  Serving me became his crutch, something to keep him going—a hope that their loss could somehow be made up for.  Even the good Captain Orrell has seen his share of heartache.  He was not always so grim, and Jessicah has relit the wonder in his heart.  I am very glad to see it.’

‘Another question then.’

‘Kali?’

‘You read my thoughts?’

‘Sometimes you shout them.’

‘Well, it is more about her kind.  If they are so like magicians, why did you not kill them?’

‘That is partly why I went there, Leopold,’ he said openly.  ‘I knew of their existence, but not how many remained or what they were fully capable of doing.’

‘Then you decided to spare them.  What changed your mind?’

‘Hope,’ the magician stated.

‘Hope?’

‘Hope that I am at least a little wrong.  Hope that we will win before the beasts are drawn to them.  Hope that once all this is done, they can return to being ordinary people.  In a world without magic, they will find themselves not so quick and not so strong, and I hope it will not matter.  They may even return to what they were: normal people, capable of love and bearing young.  I could have destroyed them just to be safe, and at one time I would have, but I do not want my disgrace to be complete.  I did learn something from Tulan’s death.  No, I will not kill them.  That would be like burning a windmill in effort to halt the wind.  This journey has changed me, Leopold, as much as it has changed you.’

‘Do you mean that?’

‘Yes.  You have all taught me something—old Salu most of all.  I killed his brother but he returned my terrible act with compassion.  Everything he experienced was beautiful to him.  He took the greatest pleasure in just listening and smelling—the wind against his skin.  I think that is why he closed his eyes to the world—to open his everything else.  He wanted to savour those sensations with every mote of his worth.  No, I could not bring myself to rid the world of its beauty.’

‘Then will you let the world keep its magic?’

‘No.  Mankind does not have the maturity to deal with magic, not yet.  It is our nature to rely on such convenience and seek more and ever more, but such luxuries lie opposite to wisdom, and deprive us of true strength.  The greedy use magic as currency, a power to elevate themselves in status, to wield over others.  No, humanity is not ready for magic until humanity itself has changed.  At one time we were close, but ...’  He could not finish the sentence and trailed away.  ‘The way is always open for magic to be found again, but if I do not hide it now, all this will happen again.  I cannot allow that.  We have been very fortunate so far, but we cannot rely on luck forever.  Mankind requires a change of monumental proportion before we can safely wield such power.  Otherwise, we will inevitably destroy ourselves, as has nearly occurred.’

‘So you didn’t leave some agents in Koia to kill them once we left?’

‘I did not.  You will have to trust me.’

‘Can I do that?’

‘Everyone has suffered enough, Leopold.  I once thought that suffering made us stronger, but it is not so.  Suffering eats away at us.  Some people become obsessed by it, believing pain produced their strength.  But it does not.  It is only determination, despite our pain, that makes us stronger, victory despite obstacles, not because of them.  That is why I will not tell you that the loss of Kali will make you stronger.  It may, but it may not.  In reality, the choice is yours.’

‘What do you mean?’ Leopold asked, confused.  ‘She was not lost.’

‘I have many powers, Leopold, and one of them was given to me by my demons ... a very much unwanted gift that has eaten away at my heart all my life—the power to see death.  Just as the most talented of magicians can see magic—life itself—I see death.  I see it coming, a shadow, creeping like a wave of spiders.  I saw such shadows upon most of the crew these last few days, and now they are gone.  I saw it upon Destiny and Phoenix, and upon Pradmet and Prithamon when I met them, and everyone else who has perished so far.  I saw it upon my own mother, long ago.’

‘What are you saying?  She’ll die?’ Leopold asked with disbelief.

‘Sometimes the warning is nearer.  I cannot say when, but Kali has been marked, Leopold.  There is nothing I can do.’

‘How can you say that?’ Leopold declared angrily, choking back tears.  ‘How can you abandon her?’

‘I have had this gift all my life, Leopold.  I know it cannot be avoided.  She will die.  If you really want to be with her, then I suggest you use your time with her fruitfully while you can.  Cherish her.  You will regret it if you do not.  She may not feel the same in return, not on the surface, but deep down I am sure some part of her will appreciate it.  If that sounds too painful, avoiding her may be the prudent choice.’

‘Damn you, Magician!’ Leopold swore, and he stormed along the deck, kicking the railing as hard as he could.  ‘Why?’ he asked, finally calming enough to speak.

‘I do not know why, or how or when, Leopold.  Only soon.’

‘What about me?  Will I die with her?’

‘No.  Not yet.  There is no shadow about you that I can yet see, but sometimes it gives me little warning.  I can never be sure that someone will not die ... only that they will.’

‘A lot of good that does!’  He racked his brain for ideas.  ‘We can hide her in her cabin?’ he suggested suddenly, but the magician shook his head.  ‘We can put her into a sleep?’

‘No, Leopold.  Nothing like that will prove the faintest bit of use.  She will die, Leopold.  She will die,’ he repeated firmly.  ‘I am sorry.’

Leopold stopped his agitated motion and, much to his own disgust, accepted the magician’s words as truth.  Everyone else on board had died.  What did it matter?

‘You know,’ Leopold said, sniffing, ‘you were wrong about something.  Salu told me you did not kill his brother.’

‘What’s that?’

‘He said you banished him, but that he was not dead.’

‘I had never thought it possible.  Anthem ... alive?  Still, even if it were so, he would never be able to come back.  It would be impossible to find him.  Only he knows which realm he had opened.  There are infinite worlds to search.’

‘Would you bring him back if you could?’ Leopold asked, rubbing his reddened eyes.

The question posed a dilemma for the magician.  ‘I—I’m not sure.  I think I would have to.  Then again, if you thought I had a bad temper, old Anthem was my superior in that as well.’

‘Then perhaps he should stay where he is,’ Leopold proposed.  ‘He’s probably giving the demons hell.  Perhaps that’s why they’re all trying to get over here?’  And he forced himself to laugh—a skinny, wretched thing that shamed him to hear it.

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel admitted.

‘I guess I have another question for you then.’  At the very least, the change in conversation was taking his mind off Kali.

‘Well ... why stop now?  Go ahead.’

‘Are you truly ready to become a god?’

‘That is not a question I can easily answer.  Am I ready?  I guess I will find out when the time comes.  Must I try?  Yes.  All I know is that this world must be protected.  The demons yearn for all life, not just those of mortal men.  They would steal the precious essence from the earth itself, until only a cold rock remained.  We are creatures of this world, Leopold.  We are part of her, and she, us.  She is our mother, entwined around us.  If we die, she dies, and vice versa.  She possesses an energy, much like any living thing.

‘I sometimes wonder if the earth herself has any form of consciousness.  Some people have considered it.  If so, I would hope she might recognise our plight and come to our aid, but I do not think it likely.  For many years I have dreamed of leaping from her, tearing myself apart from her and floating out like a seed leaving the pod.  Only then would I truly be my own creature, a navigator of my own destiny, uniting all the parts of my body and mind into one will—that is what being a god really means.  It would be truly wonderful, I am sure.  Ah ...’  He trailed away, lost in blissful thought.  ‘You know, Leopold, no matter how hard we try, there is one thing we can never escape—ourselves.  My self is something I have never been particularly fond of.  I hope to one day slip away, quietly and unseen and become something else.’

‘Who knows,’ Leopold said, ‘maybe you will be the first?’

They stood at the bow of the vessel, looking ahead.  The breeze had turned cool and the air had lost much of its stifling heat.

‘How much longer until we arrive?’ Leopold asked.  How much longer until she dies?

At first, Leopold thought the magician was not going to answer, but finally he did respond.  ‘I can feel his pull getting stronger.  It will not be much farther.’

Toby, hanging half over the rails to watch the water sluicing from the prow, turned to face the magician with a smile.  ‘Farther!  Farther!’ he called happily, echoing the man.

‘Yes, Toby,’ Samuel replied, ‘not long to go.’

Chapter Nine

The Palace of Salt and Tears

EUDA WAS A LAND of ghosts and Trithi was a city deserted—at least, that was their first impression.  On seeing those shores there were no cheers or shouts of excitement from the crew.  The Farstride was silent as she sliced through the swell, dropping anchor at a distance where the water remained deep enough for her keel.

All eyes were aimed towards the foreboding stretch of land ahead.  There was no movement in the harbour and no people along the shore.  Fishing boats decayed upon the banks, filled with silt.

They each took turns with the spyglass, surveying the land for clues as to what lay in wait.  The homes looked deserted, abandoned, the buildings fallen into disrepair.  No gulls or birds of any kind flew in the sky or waded in the shallow water.  No trees or shrubs grew within sight.  There was a complete and utter absence of life.  Nothing stirred, except the wind in skeletons of dry grass along the riverbank.

Samuel peered anxiously towards the massive white dome that dominated the city.  It rose from the middle of Trithi like a mountainous ball of bone, its curved walls reinforced with immense ribbing and interspaced with divots and bulges of unknown function, each large as a house.  To see the magician worried was more unnerving than the structure itself.

‘What is that thing?’ Captain Orrell asked.

‘A palace, or a monument perhaps.  I do not know,’ Samuel said, his vexed gaze locked upon it.

‘How could the Eudans make such a thing?’

‘They could not.  It was made with magic—Poltamir’s work.  Listen.  Can you hear it?’

They paused, intently searching the silence.  Slowly, the signal became evident.  From far away, a rhythmical pounding was at work, hanging on the edge of perception.  It was too faint to be heard, but it could be felt, trembling through the timbers of the ship, travelling up their legs, reverberating in their chests and within their skulls.  Leopold imagined a pillar of lead being raised to a height, dropped and then drawn up again—rhythmically, like a drawn-out heartbeat.

‘A thudding,’ Captain Orrell observed, ‘coming from the dome.’

‘Or from within it,’ Samuel said.  ‘It is magic—very potent—and it will become stronger as we near.’

Daneel scratched nervously at the edge of his eye-patch.  ‘What is its purpose?’

Samuel shook his head.  ‘I do not know, but Captain Merryweather, tell your men to remain alert.  If they see anything strange, they should move the ship further out to sea.  No one is to go ashore without me in their company—for any reason.  That must be very clear.’

Merryweather nodded and relayed the instruction to his men.

‘Come,’ the magician commanded, now directing his attention to Captain Orrell.  ‘Let us see what awaits us.’

‘Will that not be dangerous?’ Leopold asked.

‘It will, but I see little alternative.  We have come to Poltamir’s doorstep at his request.  He has not shown himself or come to greet us.  We have no choice but to pay him a visit.’

‘How many men shall we bring?’ Orrell asked, but Samuel dismissed the idea with a sharp flick of his hand.

‘None.  It will be only us—yourself, Daneel, Leopold ... and Kali.  We can use her skills.’

The sound of her name grasped Leopold’s attention.  Was this some attempt to save her?  Or was the magician seeking to place her in harm’s way, to prove his premonition correct?  No, he corrected himself.  I cannot think that poorly of him.  I’m sure he has his reasons.

‘Why so few?’ Daneel asked.

‘After Koia I realised a smaller group is easier to protect.  And Poltamir is powerful.  Soldiers will be of no use here.  Captain, ensure your men guard Jessicah closely.  She is far from being herself.  She was covered in bruises when I last saw her.’  Orrell nodded soberly.  ‘I will have the power to help her soon enough.’

To this the grim captain gave the subtlest of nods.  The man looked drawn out, tense, not at all his usual self.

‘But why must we accompany you, Samuel?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Can you not fly ashore with your magic and remove this final obstacle?  Is there no way to kill him without endangering the rest of us?’

‘The battle has already begun, Leopold.  Everything here is unknown to us, so our first sortie is to determine what we face.  I will only raise my blade once I know where to stab it.  I may only have one such opportunity.  Also, I would see first what it is that Poltamir offers.  He would not call me without desiring to parley first.  Finally, with you beside me I am not alone.  You have skills and abilities that I require.  As you have learned, I am not all-powerful.  I can be overcome, and Poltamir knows my limits better than most.  I do not doubt he has long prepared for my coming.  I have warned him of it for long enough.’

Toby was waiting in the longboat.  They plucked him out several times and put him on the deck, each time he scrambled in again, laughing, not realising he was not welcome.

Captain Orrell, Daneel, Kali and Leopold climbed aboard before the boat was eased over the water.  It was only as they were lowered that some spark of recognition ignited in Toby and his bliss changed to sadness.  He squirmed to be after them, grunting and whining.  As they descended the boy disappeared from view, his last look one of confusion.

The boat was bobbing in the water when Samuel dropped into it, landing in his seat without causing a ripple.

‘Leopold,’ Samuel said.  ‘I promise I will not ask any more of you after today, but can you man the oars for us one more time and get us ashore?’

Leopold agreed, feeling an air of finality in the magician’s words.  He set himself to the task, ploughing the oars into the water deep and coursing them towards the shore.  Unlike the clear waters of Koia, the sea here was black and impenetrable.

The muscles in Leopold’s back contorted and shifted as they did their work and strangely, he felt satisfaction at the feeling.  His flesh had grown thick and strong during his time aboard the Farstride.  If he could see himself in a mirror, he might be surprised to find he was not the same skinny youth who had left his mother’s side.

‘Samuel,’ Leopold stated, breaking the magician from contemplation.  ‘What was the lesson?  What was I supposed to learn along our way?’

‘There was no lesson, Leopold.  You were well within your rights to be angry, and there were many directions you could have aimed it.  I wanted to be sure it was towards me, where it could do the least harm.  In that, I was perhaps overly successful.  Also, I wanted to guide you, to protect you from the spoils of being Turian, of being their Emperor.’

‘Ah,’ Leopold responded.  ‘Was it successful?’

‘I don’t know.  If tomorrow comes, would you tend such chores without me looking over your shoulder?’

‘I suppose—if they needed doing.’

‘Then I suppose it worked.’

Leopold nodded.  He expected anger or resentment to boil to the surface, but it did not.  Such trivialities do not matter, he thought, looking to Kali sitting silently amongst them.  This will soon be ended.

****

Daneel took a turn at the oars when they had nearly reached the shore, and he steered them into the calm river mouth, multitudes of small, dark jetties poking out into the water.  Every moment, the pounding became stronger, until they could feel it rattling in their bones and their teeth: thump ... dump ... thump ... dump.

‘Stay close to me at all times,’ Samuel told them, speaking softly.  ‘I am not certain if this magic has any purpose, but its potency is dangerous enough in itself.  I have never felt anything like it in all my years.’

They left their boat and marched along the tiny wooden boards of the landing, onto the shore.  Their footsteps sounded deafening in the quiet—a strange, unnatural silence infused upon the city.

Here, the houses were well spaced.  As before, there was no sign of life—no dogs, no cats, no birds, no bugs, nor grass.  There were only the rundown buildings and the blackened dirt between them—no sounds but the wind amongst the houses and the pervading thumping that emanated from the dome—that incessant force that worked to drown out even the thoughts in their heads.

‘What has happened to everyone—to everything?’ Daneel asked.

‘Maybe it was always like this,’ Leopold suggested.  ‘Or because of the war.’

‘No,’ Samuel said.  ‘Once this city was a thriving metropolis.  Poltamir has made it thus.’

‘There!’ Orrell said, for the streets were not entirely deserted.  Ahead of them, some figures were wandering in open view.

The people did not notice them as they approached and it took several attempts before the ragtag trio—two old men and a woman—would respond.  Their clothes were filthy and torn, their dark Eudan skin covered with grime and sores they had not bothered to address.  They were soulless, hugging onto what they carried—some knotted string, a cup, a mallet and a few spoons—as if they were treasures.

‘They are cursed!’ Kali declared, and from the astonished look on Captain Orrell and Daneel’s faces, it was clear they now understood her.

‘It was time,’ Samuel remarked in response to Leopold’s questioning glance.  ‘No, they are not cursed,’ he then told Kali.  ‘They are ... overcome, overwhelmed ... lost within themselves.’

‘What has happened here?’ Captain Orrell asked the Eudans, their language spilling unbidden from his lips.

They stared at him, straining to comprehend his words.  Leopold thought they simply did not understand, but a moment later he found himself corrected.

‘Go to the master,’ one of them spoke, hoarse and decrepit.

‘Where is your master?’ Orrell asked.  The withered man would only look blankly towards the great white dome.  The three of them then shambled away in a different direction altogether, clutching their bundles tightly.

The party watched the pitiful figures depart, wondering what could have caused their state, when the slapping of sandalled feet approached.

Two files of armed men appeared between the buildings—more dark-skinned Eudans.  They were lightly armoured, wearing soft sandals so as to travel fast, with short swords at their sides.  Unlike the three they had just encountered, these men were animated.  They trotted along in time, pulling to a dusty halt before the party.

Their captain stepped forward to address the strangers to his land.  ‘Our master summons you.’  He was agitated, distracted.

His men waited perfectly still, not moving their eyes from directly ahead.

‘What has happened here?’ Samuel asked.

‘Our master summons you,’ the man repeated.

‘Are you unwell?  Is that all people can say around here?  What’s going on here?’ Daneel asked the man.

The soldiers drew their swords as one, emphasising that questions were not welcome.  Still, they did not turn their heads, and their captain fidgeted nervously, stealing glances towards the dome.

‘Let’s go with them,’ Samuel suggested.  ‘I’m keen to see what is happening here ... and to meet Poltamir.  I don’t think we will get any answers from these men.  All roads seem to lead to the dome.’

The Eudan captain led the way and they followed, the troops trailing behind them.  There was not a word or whisper from anyone.  The men did not look left or right, or blink out of turn.  Only the captain murmured occasionally, scratching at his arms and looking anxiously down side streets they passed.

They traversed the criss-crossing streets, ever towards the dome, and the closer they came the more it loomed above them.  It was huge, a mountain.

They spied another such group of soldiers.  These looked worn and battered, as if just returned from a long journey and they were herding a ragtag group of Eudan civilians, harrying them with their swords.  The captives looked desperate, begging their captors for mercy, but the men did not respond.

‘Can we help them?’ Leopold asked.

‘Not yet,’ the magician responded, and the other group disappeared from view, travelling along another street towards the dome.

They came to a short tower of polished ebony, jutting from the ground and rounded at the top, tapering to a point like a curved tusk.  Samuel eyed it with curiosity.  A house had been demolished to make room for it, the rubble still littering the ground.

‘What is that?’ Leopold asked, for the construction had no perceivable doors or windows.

‘A tribute, perhaps?’ Daneel suggested.  ‘A sculpture?’

Samuel peered closely at it.  ‘I am not sure, but it reeks of magic ... of Poltamir.  Everything here does.’

The guards prodding at their backs meant they could not slow to inspect it, and they passed the tower by.  Looking down the streets, they could see more of the columns spaced evenly in concentric rings around the dome, leaning outwards like layers of defences.

When they met the foot of the dome the group gaped up at its curving wall in awe.  It was a monstrous construction, towering over them as they stood in its shadow.

‘They could probably fit the entire Imperial Palace inside,’ Captain Orrell mused.

‘Or something,’ Samuel said gloomily.  ‘I think we are about to find out.’

The soldiers led them to an arched opening in the wall, large enough to accommodate one of the navy’s galleons without any qualms.  The Farstride might have difficulty fitting, but with her masts removed and a bit of grease applied to her hull, she should just squeeze through.

Looking along the length of the wall, they could see several other such openings, where single files of people were being ushered inside by soldiers, like ants bringing food back to their nest.

Venturing inside, even Samuel gasped in awe.  A hill dominated the dome’s centre, covered by a network of pale buildings, a palace complex with paths, stone work and balconies stretching between.  Towers and domes speckled the scene, joined by bridges of white stone.  If not for the cold, foreboding atmosphere, it might have been beautiful.  Every inch was breathtaking in splendour and majesty, yet it was as deserted as the broken city outside, the Eudan soldiers and their captives barely visible amongst the structures.

They were guided further inside, gazing towards the sky.  The walls were translucent, dimming the light, but allowing enough sunshine inside to maintain visibility.  The sun, the blue sky and the clouds were all visible through the skin of the dome.  Great arches and framework supported the structure, likewise nearly transparent so as not to detract from the view.

The ground was laid with intricate paving—similarly comprised of white stone—set together in spirals and patterns, yet it was cracked in many places, bulging and broken, unmaintained.  Buildings were everywhere, looking unused, as if this had been intended to be the grandest palace in history, or a life-size museum piece that no one was allowed to inhabit.

Some patches of bare, dark earth were visible atop the hill, beside the most elaborate buildings.  Paving had slipped down the slope many years before and like everything, not repaired.  More curved, black towers ringed the bottom of the hill, thrusting up at regular intervals, contrasting starkly with the paleness around.

The incessant drumming in the air was worse in here, resounding from the insides of the dome, drilling into their temples and tingling inside their sinuses.  The more one thought about the sound, the stronger its effect.

Their escort took them to a nearby building—a freestanding cylinder of pale stone sitting in the open—and the captain waited.  Some unseen signal passed to his men, and they turned and trotted back towards the entrance, leaving their captain alone.

‘What now?’ Daneel asked.

‘I will go see.  Leopold, come with me.’

There was no door, only a break in the wall.  The two of them stepped inside and followed the inner circumference of the chamber until it opened into a hollow at the building’s centre.  Indeed, it could barely be called a building, for there was no roof over their head.

Standing there, upon a knee-high dais, was a figure cloaked in hanging folds of black cloth.  He faced them, his features hidden deep within the shadows of his cowl.  A tangible energy radiated from him, carrying the same monotonous pulse that threatened to overcome their minds, so intense it made Leopold’s vision hazy and distorted, and made him unsteady on his feet.  The voice that spoke did not come directly from their host, but emanated from all around, sounding from the walls, and it echoed in the chamber ... a deep, growling voice filled with gravel.

‘Samuel.’  The words dragged out slowly, his tongue long unfamiliar with speaking.  ‘Have you come to mock me?’

‘I have not, Poltamir,’ the magician responded.

‘Then ... have you come to kill me?’ the voice asked, sounding strangely hopeful.

‘I have come for my son,’ Samuel said.

Leopold bent slightly and tried to look into the face of their host, but the hood hung low and contained only darkness.

‘Ah,’ Poltamir said after short deliberation.  Hidden within his cloth, he swayed as he talked, as if about to fall at any moment.  ‘I do not have him.’

‘Then where is he?’ Samuel asked.

‘Come to my chamber.  I will speak with you more ... about your son and about the traitor Lomar and all that he has done.’

‘So it is true.  He betrayed you as well,’ Samuel said.

‘Come.  Come to my chamber at the centre of my Palace of Loneliness and we will talk.  I have been waiting so long to meet you.  This is the end, Samuel, for one of us.  How I have been looking forward to it.  I do not want to rush.  This is something to be savoured and enjoyed.  Take your time ... come.’

Poltamir would say nothing further.  Samuel raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

‘Is he coming?’ Leopold whispered to the magician.

‘It seems not,’ Samuel replied, and they made their way from the chamber, leaving Poltamir behind, wavering gently upon his stage.

The Eudan captain was waiting wordlessly with the others and as Samuel and Leopold re-joined them, the man jerked to life, starting up the paved incline towards the palace.

‘What are all those people doing?’ Daneel asked the man as they followed.  From their vantage point they could see lines of people moving between the buildings, climbing sets of stairs; everyone moving upwards, no one coming down.

The captain kept pacing along in silence, as if he had not heard the question at all.  He had lost his nervousness, and kept his face set squarely on the hill above.  Only his eyes retained emotion: red and trembling.

‘Everyone here is under the spell,’ Samuel said.  ‘They are Poltamir’s slaves, and you would be the same if you stayed here any length of time.  Only my presence protects you.’

Leopold looked over his shoulder to see if Poltamir was following, but no one emerged from his chamber.  It seemed the man was happy to remain there, or else he travelled by some unseen or magical means.

‘This place is vile,’ Captain Orrell stated.  ‘They tried to make it beautiful, but created a centrepiece of evil.’

‘Well said, Captain,’ Samuel replied.  ‘He called this abomination his Palace of Loneliness, so I imagine he is aware of the atmosphere.  Perhaps he chose to set this scene purposefully.’

‘Will we kill him?’ Leopold asked.

Samuel raised a finger to his lips.  ‘None of our words are private here.  This is Poltamir’s domain, and everything we say is within his capacity to hear.  Even your thoughts would be open to him if he had his way.  Suffice to say, we will only do what we must.  I am sure he realises that already.  He has said as much.’

Their guide led them up stairs and across bridges, through hollow halls and across vacant, echoing courtyards and gardens of stone, leading them into a grand chamber set at the side of the hill.

As they entered, Leopold caught sight of more figures on the hillside, climbing up and over the crest.  He could not glimpse what was waiting there to meet them.  A shiver ran along his spine.  All going up ... none coming down.  What could be up there?

Inside, the room was comfortable, decorated as if in use.  Padded chairs and rugs faced another raised platform, and again, they were met by a figure draped in a shroud of black—presumably, Poltamir.  They had moved quickly all the while, so it was a surprise to find him already waiting for them, standing idly, unhurried.  Then again, magicians relished such confounding acts.

‘Is it him?’ Leopold whispered and Samuel nodded in reply.

They remained standing despite the presence of chairs, facing their host and awaiting his address.

‘So,’ the voice of Poltamir rumbled.  There was no hint of a face or features beneath that hanging cowl.  Everything, as before, was hidden.  ‘You have come.’

‘Where is my son?’ Samuel asked fiercely.

‘Not so quickly, oh father of Marrag Lin.  First, there is a bargain to be made, an exchange of favours to be laid.’

‘I am not fond of bargains.  Speak up, and I will hear it.’

‘I do not know where your son is.  I only know that Lomar let him escape.  But Lomar will surely know where he is, even if he cannot recapture the devil himself.  I will tell you where Lomar is hiding if you only promise to kill him for me.’

‘That goes without saying,’ Samuel admitted.  ‘I would kill him anyway.’

‘Why don’t you kill him yourself?’ Leopold piped up.

The faceless cowl turned towards him.  ‘I would if I could, brave one, but I have built this city—my tribute—around me and I cannot leave without causing its destruction.  I have not grown that desperate ... yet.’

‘You know, you have changed much since we last met, Poltamir,’ Samuel stated.  ‘You were not so enamoured with mystery.  Has Lomar really caused you so much pain for it to come to this, hiding yourself away in this empty palace?  Ruling over a city of dust and decay?’

‘He caused me great pain,’ rattled the voice.  ‘He stole your son from me and ruined a plan ten thousand years in the making.  When Lin returns he will spare me no vengeance.  He will take everything I have worked so tirelessly to accumulate, and I will be born again to start from scratch.  I cannot hide from him like this!  Everything shall start over.  Do you know how hard it is to escape from the devil, Samuel?  It is very hard indeed.

‘Now, I celebrate my loss here, awaiting my master’s punishment; but at least I can end my days with the cold comfort that Lomar is dead.  And he shall not be reborn.  Lin shall devour his soul.  I shall have that small victory, thanks to you, Samuel ... and perhaps one other modest pleasure.  But now, you have come far and although you have changed, young Magician, your companions are still very much mortal.  They need to rest.  You will have your lunch and then we shall discuss further the man who has become the bane of my very existence.’

‘I think rather we should conclude our business,’ Samuel told their host.  ‘Your offer is hospitable, but I find our surrounds rather ... unaccommodating.’

‘Oh, really?’ growled the voice, saturating the room.  The man in the black cowl wavered to and fro like an unsettled candle flame.  ‘I find my palace to be most beautiful, a triumph of architecture.  It reflects my mood precisely.  I want you to enjoy it ... to savour it.  Perhaps you can learn from my mistakes ... from the greed and vanity that tortured me during its design.  I planned its creation for a thousand years and it contains the qualities of every culture that has graced this world that I can still recall.

‘But in truth, I understand what you say.  Somehow with every stone I added, my castle only became emptier.  I must admit now that bricks and mortar alone do not make a home.  A palace needs a princess, after all.  Ahhh ...  No, stay.  Bathe in my hospitality.  I would not have it any other way.’  His final words ground together like great rusted cogs in a titanic, yet failing machine.

Samuel was annoyed, but they were left with little choice.  Their guard raised his hand and signalled for them to follow yet again.  His eyes were rimmed red.  He had not slept in days, or was desperately holding back tears, but he led them without complaint.

They traversed an empty, echoing hall and entered a stately dining room.  The head of the room was hidden behind a lush velvet curtain, hanging as if to soon draw back and reveal a stage, perhaps a performance with it.

The smells of cooking were wafting in from an adjoining kitchen and as they sat, serving staff in immaculate costumes filed in one after another and presented a feast.  The men and women were groomed to perfection, every strand of hair in place, their clothing tailored precisely, each lacking emotion.  They set the platters and dishes on the table, then the majority departed, leaving some waiting at the side of the room with their hands clasped neatly before them.

‘This is horrifying,’ Daneel whispered.

‘Is it safe?’ Captain Orrell queried, eyeing the food suspiciously.

‘It is,’ Samuel said with a solid nod.

‘Come.  Dig in,’ came the echoing voice of Poltamir.  The heavy curtain slid aside, pulled on unseen strings by unseen hands, revealing the cloaked man, again standing on a rounded platform.  The drawn-off section of the room lacked doorways and exits.  It was impossible for Poltamir to arrive without using his magic.

‘Please ... eat,’ Poltamir bid them.  He never moved more than to sway about, never raising an arm or taking a step.  It could have been anyone hiding under those folds of cloth.  ‘These are the delicacies of a dozen lands, cooked to perfection.  There is no need to worry.  Everything is delectable ... and safe.  There is no deceit on my part.  I would not poison you.  This sorry excuse for a man only wants to see someone benefit from what I have done.  Otherwise, my entire existence has been for nought, and I am as hollow and porous as I feel.’

They waited for Samuel’s assent.  Daneel was first to grab hold of a baked chicken leg, covered in colourful garnish and flavourings.  It squirted juices as he plucked it free and the fluid ran down his chin with each enthusiastic bite.  Leopold picked up his fork and skewed a slice of meat from a nearby side of pork and joined the one-eyed man in the feasting.

‘It’s good,’ he said, biting down eagerly, for he had not eaten anything so delicious for as long as he could remember, and he was starving.

The others also began to dine, while Samuel sat patiently, sipping only water from his cup.

Kali was ravenous, lifting dishes to her mouth and shoving the food in, munching loudly, slurping at her drink.  She happily shovelled everything into her mouth with her fingers, ignoring the fine cutlery.  It was a disturbing sight, clashing with her beauty.

How could you? Leopold thought, watching on.  The poor woman is doomed and all you think about are her table manners!

All the while, the servants stood like statues behind them, only stepping in to refill their cups or replace empty dishes.

Poltamir hovered, observing them quietly from his dais, hidden within his robes, muttering all the while as they dined.  ‘Yes ... yes.  Good.  Eat up!  Eat up!’  His whispers crept along the walls.

When they were full, the table looked exactly as it had at the start, every finished plate replaced with another fresh from the kitchen, spilling over with excessive delights.  Every spilt crumb and dropped bone had been quickly gathered away, removing all evidence a meal had taken place.

‘Well ...’ the voice of Poltamir rumbled.  ‘Tell me.  How was it?’

‘Good,’ Leopold said, being the first to speak up.

‘Delicious,’ Daneel agreed with a burp.

Captain Orrell said nothing, keeping close watch on their host.  He had only picked at his food, his eyes roaming restlessly between the entrances and windows.

‘Ah,’ Poltamir purred, full of pleasure, and his deep voice reverberated in their chests.  ‘That warms my heart.  What a terrible fortress I have built around myself, and how it pleases me to finally have appreciative guests.  I always imagined this palace would be my temple, dedicated to love and happiness; but I sit here ... alone and made wretched by my failed ambitions.

‘But forgive me.  I apologise for being so morose.  How could I dampen the tone of such a wonderful feast?  Come ... celebrate!’  The voice broke down into long and chuffing laughter, leaving everyone wondering what madness had overcome him.  ‘It is only unfortunate that you did not eat, Father of Marrag Lin, but I suppose the food would only sit in your shrivelled stomach and rot.  Like myself, your magic has changed you and there is little that is human remaining.  I have tried to fill myself with humanity, but it is like trying to fill a bottomless pit with cherry pips.  The more I try, the emptier I feel.  So terrible is my longing.  We are so different from these lovely people that we surround ourselves with, are we not, Samuel?  Can you even remember being alive?’

‘Magic changes us all,’ Samuel said.  ‘But speak for yourself.  I am still alive.’

The terrible voice of Poltamir boomed with laughter, but the cloaked figure at the head of the room remained utterly still, unattached to the voice that issued forth.  ‘Come, I have many questions for you,’ he stated once his laughter had subsided.  ‘You are an interesting creature, Samuel.  Who are these companions you have brought with you into my lair?  I would know which mortals have gained your interest.  Two men, handy with the swords at their sides, I can tell.  You must enjoy their company to bring them willingly into such danger, knowing that blades could never harm me.  Still, that is your choice.  And that one beside you—I am intrigued.  He has the smell of Thann, but I know that Thann is now dead, consumed within you.  I must be wary of you, Magician, if you are capable of such a thing, but tell me what has happened here?’

‘This is his son,’ Samuel informed their host.

‘Oh!’ the voice rumbled with interest.  ‘How times have changed!  Our master’s grip must indeed be slipping for Thann to sire a child.  I have never heard of such a thing in all my time!  Marrag Lin is getting lax, or perhaps his reign is nearing its end?  Could Lomar really have done what I could not and wrestle his power away from him? No, I am sure we would both know if he had.  And that gloating fool would surely appear to tell us himself.  Perhaps Lin has something shrewd in mind for us, who can tell?  And the young woman—have you chosen her as a mate to continue the line of Thann?’

Leopold was unhappy to hear such talk, and Kali beside him shifted uncomfortably at the suggestion.

‘I have not,’ Samuel responded.

‘Wonderful lies!’ Poltamir boomed with what sounded like glee.  ‘I see the inklings of your plan already, Magician.  Like father, like son.  I will be eager to see how your schemes progress.’

‘You look into things too much, Poltamir,’ Samuel said darkly.

‘Perhaps,’ the voice conceded.  ‘So my brother Thann has been defeated, and you have taken his strength, Samuel; but what of Rei?  You have her potency—I can feel it within you—but, strangely, I also feel her presence nearby.  I smell her; she is not far.  Ah, yes ... on your ship.’  The last three words could not hide the longing in his voice.

‘Her stubborn essence survives,’ Samuel explained.  ‘I could not stamp it out, as much as I tried.’

‘Bring her to me, and anything can be yours!’ Poltamir blurted.  The pitch rose in his voice, abandoning its resounding bass.

‘There is nothing I would want that much, Poltamir.  She is my cousin.  She is mine.’

‘You want your son!’ boomed the voice, again in full force.  ‘Bring her to me, or I will tell you nothing!’

‘So,’ Samuel said, ‘I see the gracious host shows his true intentions.  Tell me, what would you do with her, Poltamir?’

‘Nothing ... love her,’ came the conflicting reply.

‘Are you even capable of love?’ Samuel asked sceptically.

‘We three servants of Lin were not rent of our emotions like you, Magician.  Your lack of feeling was your son’s attempt to save you from despair, but all it did was cause you further grief.  He left us with ours so we could remember the strengths and failings of humanity, so we would never forget our cause, but time can sour all things, Samuel.  Even the purest and greatest of intentions attracts resentment, given long enough.  I should know.  Now, bring her to me!’

‘You cannot control me like your puppets, Poltamir.  I will not do as you say.  Rei is gone and the woman that remains is not her.  I will never give her to you.’

The air crackled with anger, and the walls themselves trembled with ire.  The tension in the room slowly subsided as Poltamir forcefully regathered his patience.  ‘I am a tolerant man.’  Somehow, his chortling continued in the background, sounding over his own voice, as if he had two throats from which to speak.  ‘I will give you one day to rethink this matter.  Return to me with her, or I will tell you nothing.’

‘It seems we have reached a stalemate,’ Samuel announced.  ‘The one thing you want most is the one thing I will not release.  Very well, we will retire to our ship to consider.’

‘You can leave your companions in my good care, if you wish,’ said Poltamir, wavering on his platform, perhaps unaware of how obvious was the deception in his voice.

‘I will take them with me, Poltamir,’ Samuel replied.  ‘Just to be safe.’

‘Do not think of trying to escape me, Samuel.  Your ship lies within my reach and I will not allow it to leave.  I trust you will return on the morrow.  I would hate to be forced to come find you.  I have not left my beautiful palace since I first commenced its making.  I would be loath to do so, but I would—if you made me.  I would do anything to get her.  I have done anything, and nothing will get in my way, given she is now so close ... so close I can taste her scent as if she were standing beside me now.  There must be a trade for your son, Samuel.  Rei by my side and Lomar in his grave.  That is the cost.’

‘I will come,’ Samuel said, ‘tomorrow.’  He pushed back his chair and stood, waiting expectantly.

The curtain squeaked back into place across the dais to once again conceal their host, jerking with each tug of its unseen cord.

The same captain was waiting in the doorway and he led them back the way they had come, down the hill and out of the dome without fanfare.

It was a surprise to return to direct sunlight.  Leopold blinked until they adjusted to the brightness.

Their guide led them to the river, where a large oared vessel was waiting, manned by a team of black-skinned, shirtless Eudan men.  Wordlessly they sat while the group took their seats, then the heaving began, sending them out to sea.  There was no need for an overseer to keep time.  They bent their oars in perfect rhythm to the incessant maddening drumming in their heads.

The Eudan captain remained alone on the riverbank, watching them depart.  As they moved away, he glanced over his shoulder towards the dome, then back to the river.  Slowly, he trod into the water and continued past his knees.  Each step took him deeper, as if intent on striding fair to the other side.  He moved casually, calmly, looking contented with his actions.  The water met his shoulders and another step took it over his head.  As he submerged, he closed his eyes with relief.  The bubbles did not last for long.

The sight sent a shiver up Leopold’s spine, and he turned back to face the others.

‘What will we do, Samuel’? Captain Orrell asked.  ‘He will surely try something.’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel said, ‘or else he is so self-assured that he does not mind waiting another day for us.  Time is nothing to him.  He has already waited millennia.  A day is inconsequential.’

‘But will we give him Jessicah?’ Leopold asked.

Captain Orrell glowered towards him as the question left this mouth.

‘Never,’ was Samuel’s assured reply.

****

The Farstride was waiting exactly where they left her, and the long Eudan craft carried them safely to her side, before pulling away in silence.  The crew were well, although many complained of headaches.  The intensity of Poltamir’s pounding signal had increased and was now clearly audible, booming far away.

‘We tried to move away as you said,’ Captain Merryweather said.  ‘But we could not raise the anchors.  Something has seized them in place.  We were going to send someone down to take a look, but we thought it safer to await your return—given the circumstances.’

‘Wise decision, Captain.  I will take care of your ailing men.  I sense Poltamir’s magic below.  Evidently, he does not trust us.’

Relieved to be back on the refuge of their ship, the landing party went their separate ways to rest.

****

Dusk was settling and men were lighting the ship’s lamps.  Smoke and steam issued from the kitchen.  Despite his generous lunch, Leopold hungered for dinner, convincing himself it may be more of the same delights.

He climbed up to the top of the aftcastle and made his way to Jessicah’s room.  Nodding to the two serious-looking guards and receiving a chorused ‘Your Majesty’ in reply, Leopold opened the door and eased himself inside.

Jessicah was bound, looking well rested at least, and she watched him in silence as he came to the bedside.

‘How was your excursion?’ she asked.

It was impossible to tell which one was speaking—Jessicah or Rei.

Gently, he drew a chair, sat, and crossed his legs at the ankles.  ‘May I know to whom I am speaking?’

She looked at the ceiling, her emotions indeterminable.  ‘Does it matter?’

‘It was only a question.’

She sighed.  ‘I think we are becoming less distinct as time passes.  I find it difficult to tell my own thoughts from hers.  I’m not even sure who I am any more.  Please, enough of such talk.  It is lonely enough in here that I could do with some chitchat, whoever I may be.  Tell me of your journey.  Was it eventful?’

‘Oh, we had some trouble, but we returned alive, so I guess that is the main thing.’

‘Indeed,’ she agreed.  ‘How was Poltamir?  Did he live up to your expectations?  It has been a long time since I have seen him, but strangely I remember him well.  See?  There I go, talking with two minds at once.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Leopold said dismissively.  ‘Poltamir is a disturbing man.’

‘What did he want?’

‘He put us in quite the predicament.  He would not tell us what we wanted to know, not without paying his price.’

‘Oh?’ she said with interest.  ‘What was his price?’

‘Actually, it was you.’

‘Me?’ she asked anxiously.  To Leopold she appeared for all the world like Jessicah; but how could he ever truly be sure?   How could he possibly trust her, knowing how devious and persuasive Rei could be?

‘Poltamir knew you were here—at least, he knows Rei is here.’

She pondered the statement.  ‘Yes.  He was smitten with me, but I never returned his feelings.  My heart was always for Thann—Rei’s heart, at least—but I also hated your father for so long—and I don’t even know why.  So much has been lost across the endless centuries.  What a strange and twisted world it has become.  I just don’t know about anything anymore.  I can barely contain my grief,’ she added, confused and shaking her head.

‘And what of her heart now?  What of your heart, Jess?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Leopold,’ she said sadly.  ‘David will never love me, now he knows what I am.’  She gathered resolve and regarded Leopold seriously.  ‘I think you should give me to him.  It is better than this.  Poltamir is a sad and unfortunate man, but he will treat me kindly, no matter who I am.  I will not be happy, but it doesn’t matter.  As long as everyone else survives, I can persist—and it won’t be for long.  Nothing lasts forever.’

Leopold was quiet as he mulled over her comments.  ‘I cannot make such decisions.  Samuel will decide, but I shall talk with him nevertheless.’

‘He will not always be with you, Leopold, to give you such advice.  One day, you must learn to make decisions on your own.’

‘Yes,’ he told her, ‘but not today.  And for that, I am thankful.’

He left her there without saying goodbye, knowing that what she was offering was unthinkable, yet it was the best solution they had by far.

****

The men were at their meals, sitting across the decks in groups of varying proportions.  The Farstride’s stores were thrown open and the last of their food and liquor was being served with the feast.  The men were jubilant, drowning out the infuriating noise in their heads with rum and celebration.  Still, it was a hollow joy and between every cheer and merry song, unsettled glances passed to shore, where Poltamir’s dome waited, throbbing.

Leopold found Captain Orrell high on the aftcastle, looking down and watching his men.  He had made no attempt to brush his hair and his shirt was creased and untucked, completing a slovenly appearance.

‘Are you not going to eat?’ Leopold asked him, holding his own plate.

‘Later.’  A line of emptied rum glasses balanced on the railing beside him and his breath declared he had emptied them all himself.

‘Do you think it wise to waste the last of our provisions, Captain?’

‘I do not, but as Samuel puts it, it makes little difference.  He seems to think this will be the last sunset these men will see, so let them enjoy it.’

‘You believe in his premonitions?’

‘I don’t know what he calls it, I only know the look that comes over him when he realises good men will die.  I watched as the shadow crossed his face, and it told me what will happen without him needing to open his mouth.  I’ve seen it many times.’

‘Well, I don’t believe it,’ Leopold stated.  ‘We will not give up.  We are Turian, are we not?  We will fight until every last one of us is dead if need be, and we will not be defeated without trying our best.  Damn what the magician saw or what he believes.’

Captain Orrell scoffed, laughing aloud.  ‘What a change, Emperor Leopold!  I would never have expected such rich talk from you.  Here you are, the shining example of a Turian Lord, dressed proper in your Emperor’s best, and look at me—a sorry excuse for a man.  Live or die, I don’t care anymore.’  He threw his head back and downed the last mouthful, then he released his grasp on the glass and let it drop into the sea.  To finish, he belched long and deep.  The stench of rum billowed forth, bubbling from the captain’s stomach.

Leopold set his plate onto the floor, and put his back against the railing.  ‘She truly loves you, Captain.’

The man examined Leopold dourly.  ‘Is that supposed to help?  It doesn’t matter if she loves me or not.  Tomorrow is our last day, and we don’t have a shred of hope.  We carry the salvation of all those back in Cintar and across the world, yet we are lost ourselves.  Samuel’s quest has doomed us, Leopold.  It was impossible from the start.’

‘So it is not my crusade anymore?’ Leopold asked.

Orrell turned around to match Leopold’s stance, looking towards the stern of the ship.  ‘I think we both know we are here because of him.’

Leopold followed the captain’s nod, for a cloaked shadow waited at the very rear of the vessel; motionless, alone, looking out to sea.

‘It’s true,’ Leopold told him, ‘but we are also here because of us.  We all chose to come here, knowing what might happen.’

‘That’s true, Your Majesty.  I serve the Turian Empire with all my being—I always have.  The soldier first, the man second, but man and soldier both have long worn out.  We are only human, and we can only do so much before our hearts cave in.’

‘I beg to differ, Captain,’ Leopold told him.  ‘Our hearts can long outlast flesh and bone if we choose to retain our faith.  And every soldier needs love in his heart, or what is there to fight for?’  Orrell did not look at him, did not respond.  ‘Hope is not lost, Captain.  She loves you, I’m sure, and she needs you.  Forget the magician and forget tomorrow.  What you and Jessicah share is precious.’

‘Don’t start!’ Orrell blared.  ‘My love has become a maddened witch.  I tied her down myself.  She would chew my ear off if I dared near her.  Given the chance she would stab me in the back and dance on my corpse.  She would do anything to get out of that room—believe me!  She’s tried already.’

‘She did?’

‘I went to her in secret,’ Orrell admitted.  ‘She said such lovely things, everything I wanted to hear ...’

‘I understand,’ Leopold told him.  ‘But just think how terrible it must be for Jessicah to be forced to do those things—to hurt the one she loves in return.’

‘I thought of freeing her,’ Orrell revealed, almost a whisper.  ‘I took out my knife and put it to her throat, and she laughed and begged me to do it.  I beat her, Leopold, oh how I beat her, trying to compel the witch out of her, but she only thanked me as I struck.  Jessicah forgave me even as I pummelled her, while the witch cackled with glee inside.  Only my men stopped me, Leopold, or I might have killed her.  Do you understand what I say?  If not for them I might have killed her!’

‘But you did not, Captain, and what you did is understandable, although regrettable.  There is still hope for her.  You can never give up on that.’

As the captain stared at Leopold, some spark of insight teetered on the edge of his awareness.  ‘I—,’ he had just begun to say, when a boom sounded from below and the ship shivered.

Leopold stumbled on his plate as he regained his balance, smashing it under his boot.

Orrell glared around, searching for the source.  ‘What by the nine was that?’

Men everywhere were on their feet with alarm.  Another, much louder explosion sounded, shaking the timbers under their feet and causing the Farstride to moan as she listed, in her huge, unhurried way.

‘Gods!’ someone yelled from along the deck.  ‘It’s the black powder!’

Panic erupted, dinners thrown aside and trampled as everyone rushed to their stations.

Smoke poured from one of the deck hatches.  A figure stumbled out, waving his arms to breathe.  ‘Fire in the hold!’ he bellowed through his coughing.

‘Get the buckets, get below!’ Mister Chapman was shouting.  ‘See to it before we’re all blown to smithers!’

More men came choking and staggering from the passage.  ‘It’s too thick.  Everything’s ablaze!’ cried one.

‘Try the other hatches!’ Orrell called down and Mister Chapman nodded in reply, setting his men scurrying as directed.

Leopold went to move, but was startled when he realised Samuel was right beside him.

‘Poltamir’s work?’ Captain Orrell asked of the magician.  The threat of danger seemed to have shaken much of the grog from his mind, yet he remained unsteady on his feet.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Those fires will be hell to contain, Samuel,’ Orrell stated.  ‘The black powder is spread out, but even one store going up could spell disaster for the ship.  Can you help us?’

Another hollow thumping passed through their feet and a muffled boom accompanied it.

‘That was from the forward store,’ the captain noted with distress.  ‘One fire cannot have spread so quickly.  Someone is trying to kill us.’

Samuel vaulted down to the main deck and disappeared into the nearest billowing hatch in one movement, even as more men came hurrying out, blackened and gasping for air.

‘Fire!’ came a distant yell from the front of the ship.  ‘Fire on the starboard side!’

‘There, too?’ Orrell asked.  ‘Leopold, our end may have come to find us early.  Stay here.  Remain out of danger.  I will see what I can do.’  With that, he hurried down the stairs to join Captain Merryweather, Mister Chapman beside him, talking animatedly.

The crew rallied marvellously to battle the blazes, forming lines of buckets, filling them from the deckside pumps and passing them along, re-enacting countless drills since leaving Amandia.

The lithe form of Kali bounded up the stairs.  ‘What is happening?’ she asked of Leopold.

‘There are fires below decks,’ he answered.  ‘Some black powder has exploded.’  He scanned the ship with concern.  ‘Where’s Toby?’

‘I haven’t seen him,’ the Koian woman admitted.

The next explosion sent them stumbling into the railing, and the Farstride rolled heavily, her timbers howling with strain.  Smoke streamed from the side of the fo’c’sle, halfway to the waterline.  A gaping hole marked the side of the ship and flames were licking out, blooming and flickering as they met the fresh night air.

‘We have to find him,’ Leopold declared worriedly.  ‘He won’t know what to do.’

He started quickly away with Kali close behind.  His body busied itself in the search, yet his mind was distracted, obsessing with the possibility that this would be the death of her, that Kali would perish aboard the ship, crushed by timbers or burned by fire as they hunted for the boy.

Keep it out of your mind, he commanded himself.  Nothing is inevitable.  Everything can be changed.  Damn the magician to hell!

They ran down the stairs and hurried to Leopold’s cabin.  The smell of smoke was intense.  Kicking open the door, Kali sprang in first.  Leopold followed, lurching to a halt inside the empty room.

‘Where could he be?’ Kali asked.

Leopold scoured his brain, then it came to him.  ‘I think I know.’

They hurried again, past frantic crewmen, finding the stairs up to the third level and rushing along the halls.  Smoke was thick, clogging the air, curling and gathering—a sentient creature prowling the ceilings.  Flames ascended the air chutes, invaded the recesses in the walls.  Spot fires erupted sporadically all over the ship with no apparent cause, and the crew fought back desperately, leaping to action at each discovery.

Leopold and Kali sped along the passages, pushing past men with buckets, towards the magician’s quarters.  The corridor lay empty, Jessicah’s guards unseen and the sight prompted Leopold to think of her.  Surely the guards’ absence meant she was already taken to safety;  he threw open the door to be sure.  Thankfully, the bed was empty.

Smoke was issuing from under Samuel’s door and when they opened it, they found the room ablaze, full of black smoke and licking, yellow flames.  Toby was beside the casket, staring at it intently as he sputtered and coughed, ignorant to the blaze around him.  A pile of objects was stacked in the corner, alien to the room, a dozen squat barrels, painted red and black.  Flames lapped around them, the wood already alight.  Leopold’s mind fumbled the pieces together: barrels, black powder, fire ... boom.

‘Quickly!’ Leopold cried.  ‘Get him out!’

Kali was past him and carrying the boy in a flash.  Leopold’s thoughts were of extinguishing the fire and saving the ship.  He thought feverishly to construct a solution.  After dancing about pointlessly, he realised it was futile.  The heat was too much.

He turned instead to the casket.  Mindful of an imminent explosion, he strained against the heavy vessel, unable to move it even the slightest.  Again he heaved, now running behind it to push.

‘What are you doing?’ Kali shouted at him from the doorway, now free of Toby.

‘We need to save it.  Salu is inside.’  He shoved at it again without result, forced to admit it was too heavy to move alone.  ‘Help me!’

She came to his side, but placed her hands on Leopold’s and gently prised them away.  ‘Leave it.’

‘We can’t!’

‘There’s no time, but we can save the old man.’  Opening the latches, she reached in and dragged Salu out.  He was tranquil, as if sleeping, but Leopold knew Salu was gone.  Only his vacant shell remained.

Kali carried him from the room, hung over her shoulder, and Leopold trailed closely behind.

‘Run!’ she shouted.

They broke into open air as the black powder ignited and Leopold’s ears were hammered in by the blast.  A boiling kettle was whistling in his head and he only realised he was lying on the balcony decking when Kali began slapping his face.

‘Get up!’ she told him, and Leopold struggled to his feet, shaking the blackness from the edge of his vision, willing the whining from his ears.

Another muffled boom sounded and the Farstride lurched.  There she stayed, hunched over like a wounded old woman, moaning as the fire chewed away at her innards, gutting her.

‘Out the way!’ cried a crewman, rushing by.

Toby was on the main deck, pointing with mirth at the flames now playing in the masts.  The soldier Ferl was with him, keeping him firmly in hand.  The roof above Samuel’s cabin was splintered upwards and folded out like countless broken twigs, and half the top deck was gone with it.  Flames billowed out the hole, twisting and lapping at the night sky.  Streams of brilliant red sparks flew towards the stars, churning furiously with the rising heat.

Samuel was with the command staff, watching Kali and Leopold’s approach with concern.  He took Salu’s body from Kali and, ‘Put him in that boat,’ he told a nearby soldier, who struggled to take the load.  ‘The boy, too,’ he demanded, glaring at Ferl.

‘Samuel, your casket is lost,’ Leopold stated, the brilliant glow of the fire on his face, its heat on his skin.

‘I know,’ the magician responded, looking none too happy about it, scowling as he observed the burning ship.

‘We’ve been sabotaged,’ Captain Merryweather declared.  ‘The hull is breached and we’re taking on water.  Someone has spread black powder all around the ship and set it afire.  It’s blowing us to pieces.’  As if to illustrate his words, a good section of the fo’c’sle exploded into the air, sounding thunder and showering them with debris.

‘How ridiculous,’ Leopold heard himself say as the rain of wood and matter fell around them, ‘that a boat can burn when it is surrounded by water.’

‘I cannot be everywhere at once to put out the fires,’ Samuel declared angrily, ‘and the hull is perforated all over.  And given Poltamir holds our anchors, I cannot lift the damned ship to stop it sinking.’

‘Then sever the bloody anchors!’ Daneel fumed.

‘Very well,’ the angered magician agreed.  He leapt up onto the side railing and cast his gaze along the side of the ship, where it fell upon the first great length of steel links.  He flicked a finger and there was a hellish clatter as one ring of metal was cut cleanly in two.  The seaward half of the chain vanished into the depths, the remaining half flew upwards with surprising force, smashing through its housing and wrapping itself around half the deck, destroying everything beneath it.  The boat rocked with the suddenly released tension.

‘Cut the other!’ Daneel called.

‘I will have to take more care or it will tip the boat,’ Samuel shouted in reply.  ‘Whatever holds us from below is pulling tighter in response.’

It was during his closing words that a sinuous black shadow rose from the water behind him.  Men yelled and pointed, before it slapped down and grabbed the deck in a tight embrace, forcing the magician to dart aside.  It was as thick as a man is tall and covered in pulsating sucking parts, squelching as they grabbed the timber and held firm.

‘What is that?’ Captain Merryweather asked, incredulous at the sight, his voice tight with dismay.

‘Whatever was holding us,’ Samuel sounded back.  He gestured again with the back of his hand and the enormous tentacle sliced neatly in two, leaving the fallen end curling up into a spiral on the deck.  The remainder withdrew into the sea, spewing black fluid from its severed stump.

The fires grew and men worked tirelessly at their losing battle.

‘Samuel!’ Captain Orrell declared.  ‘The ship is burning!’

‘I cannot do ten things at once!’

‘Then do something right!’ the man declared.

The boat lurched again and everyone fell to their faces as the ship listed sharply in the opposite direction to before.

Three more tentacles snaked out of the sea and commenced entwining themselves around the masts.  With one snap, one of the structures broke free, pulled beneath the water.  Another snakelike arm wrapped around the hull and squeezed, snapping timbers and sending pieces exploding away into the sea.

‘Captain, get your men off the ship,’ the magician ordered, landing lightly beside them.

Merryweather was shocked.  ‘And go where, Lord Samuel?  Into the sea with that thing?’

‘I don’t see we have much choice.  Launch the shore boats.  The men must take their chances.’

Reality took its time dawning on him.  ‘Mister Chapman!’ Merryweather bellowed, taking a half step from the group.  ‘Abandon ship!’

The distant figure of Mister Chapman paused in the act of passing a water-filled bucket.  He digested the command, as did most of the crew on deck who had heard, then the bosun dropped his load and shouted himself hoarse repeating the order.

‘Abandon ship!’ he boomed.  ‘Ready the boats!  Clear the decks!  Pass the word!  No one gets left behind!’

Men set to work, readying the longboats and smaller cockboats over the side.  Many looked as if they thought the command was long overdue, for the Farstride was in full flames, burning in every direction, more timber afire than not.

A dozen appendages of various sizes latched onto the deck, intent on tearing strips from it, grabbing crewmen that ventured too near, squeezing them to a screaming death.  Samuel set his spells against them, vaulting through the air.

Men fought their way into the escape boats, scrambling past the dual threat of fire and beast.  For every tentacle that Samuel destroyed, three more came crawling from beneath the waves.

One thick, coiling arm snaked its way out of a hatchway and Samuel sliced it down the middle with nothing but a scathing glance.  It thrashed, retracting itself back from view.

Again the ship tilted abruptly, throwing many from their legs.  Leopold reached out for something to hold onto, and found the nearest fixed object unexpectedly out of reach.  His feet jigged beneath him, unable to stop him from toppling back.  He watched helplessly as the others receded, and he slid away and over the side of the deck.

‘No you don’t!’ sounded an insistent cry, and Leopold jolted to a halt, his arm nearly snapping from the shoulder.  Something—someone—had him by the hand: Daneel.  The man was lying flat on his chest, reaching over the side of the ship and clutching onto Leopold’s wrist.  ‘Get back up here,’ he gasped.  With an arduous heave he pulled Leopold up until the Emperor could grasp the railing with his other hand and clamber back onto his feet.

‘I—I don’t know how to thank you,’ Leopold stammered, getting over the shock.

‘Then don’t,’ the one-eyed man declared darkly, no time for small talk.

‘Leopold, where is Jessicah?’ Samuel asked, landing beside them, no hint in his voice that he had witnessed the Emperor’s near demise.

Leopold glanced at everyone, wondering why they were looking at him.  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.  ‘I thought one of you had her.’

‘Gods!’ Captain Orrell swore.

‘I have not seen her guards,’ reported Daneel steadfastly, ‘but they could be anywhere, busy fighting the fire.’

Samuel looked set to explode with anger.

‘Don’t you know where she is?’ Daneel asked him.

‘I cannot feel her,’ he replied.  ‘Which means that somehow, and for some reason, she is hiding or being hidden.’

‘Poltamir!’ Leopold gasped.  ‘This is a diversion to steal her away.’

‘Possibly,’ Samuel responded, ‘or she could have done it herself.’

‘Are you saying Jessicah may have sabotaged us?’ Captain Orrell asked, flustered.

‘No, Captain,’ Samuel replied.  ‘I would expect it from Rei, but Jessicah would not do such a thing.’

‘But Rei has no power, Samuel,’ Leopold offered.  ‘You took it.  You said so yourself.’

The magician looked elsewhere, lost in a sea of troubled thoughts.  ‘It’s possible she found a way to use Jessicah’s power.’

‘Jessicah’s power?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Once again I find myself asking: does everyone here but me have some incredible hidden ability?  If so, please speak up now and save us the surprise.’

‘Enough!’  Samuel’s tone silenced Leopold immediately.  ‘Everyone has some potential inside of them, Leopold, but Jessicah is something special—I am only coming to terms with that now.  I don’t know how exactly, but some latent force has long been buried away inside of her, and Rei may have found a way to awaken it.’

‘There is nothing we can do about her now,’ Daneel said.  ‘The ship is sinking.  We have to save the men and look for her after.’

Boats dropped, in controlled free-fall as much as was possible, their passengers holding on for grim death.  As they hit the water, the ropes were raised and other ships were lowered.  The process was not keeping ahead of the fire, so they started pushing empty boats over the edge, men diving into the sea and clambering into them, despite the threat of whatever creature lurked beneath.  Islands of burning debris littered the water, illuminating the scene from all angles.

‘Captain, tell your men to head away from the city.  If they stray too near, they will be overcome.  They should hide, away in the hills, or as far as possible—anywhere they cannot fall victim to Poltamir’s call.’

Merryweather nodded and hurried to pass the word.

‘Leopold.  Go,’ Samuel said and he was all but dragging the Emperor into the longboat where Salu’s body was waiting.  Toby was sitting patiently beside him, keenly watching the activity.  Kali leapt in beside him, followed by Daneel and Captain Orrell.  Once seated, the crew lowered them over the side.  As they reached the water and disengaged the hooks, Samuel dropped lightly beside them.

The tiny fleet made its way southwards, away from the city, with more boats and men dropping from the Farstride all the while.  Leopold’s vessel split from the others, driven by Samuel’s magic and pointed towards the distant dome of Poltamir’s palace.

Behind them, tentacles curled up, ever greater in size, systematically tearing strips from the Farstride, oblivious to the fire.  They hurled huge pieces of timber, flying away, each chunk trailing glowing hot sparks, roaring with flame—hissing and quenched on contact with the sea.

It was surprisingly quiet once away from the ship, with only the occasional distant pop of another cask of black powder going off, or the crack of the tentacles snapping the Farstride’s mighty ribs in two.

Slowly, the beast realised it had done its job, or else the fire had simply grown too hot to endure, and the black shapes slid retreating into the depths, leaving the ship to burn on its own, bright orange towers of fire upon the water.

‘She is lost,’ Leopold said.

‘It is only a ship, Leopold,’ Daneel said.  ‘A thing of wood and nails.’

‘It was our way home,’ the young Emperor replied glumly.

‘Well ... we’ll just have to find another way.’

‘The noise,’ Captain Orrell said.  Until that point he had been sitting quietly, hands pressed to his temples and his gaze fixed on his boots.  He stank of rum, but it was no longer the liquor causing his despondency.  ‘It’s drilling into my skull.

‘Poltamir’s signal has increased in strength,’ Samuel said.  ‘I hope your men make haste.  They will not have long before his presence overcomes them.  We have to hurry.’

****

Their boat slid ashore upon the stony beach and the party strode towards the city without breaking the silence.  Salu’s body hung squarely over Samuel’s shoulder.  Trithi was even more ominous in the dark, like a netherworld or ghoulish nightmare, cast in hues of grey, and Toby’s giggling did nothing to lighten the mood.  Only the dome lit their way, for it shone like a lantern, its white walls luminescent.

As before, the streets were devoid of life.  Leopold half-expected waves of soldiers to obstruct them, but no one appeared to break the uncomfortable silence.  The city lay empty, uncaring of their trespass.

They reached the side of Poltamir’s dome and continued unobstructed through one of the yawning archways.  Inside was bright, lit by the ceiling itself.  Guards were moving, but more were sleeping on the ground, lying there like litter.  Those that still walked muttered to themselves and fidgeted anxiously, but paid the party no mind.

The five of them continued up the hill without delay.  Their destination was clear.

‘Samuel, what of the old man?’ Orrell asked huskily.  ‘I thought he was dead.  Why drag the poor soul along with us?  Do you plan to somehow raise him back to life?’

‘No, Captain,’ Samuel replied, not at all encumbered by his load.  ‘The spirit of Salu is long gone, and his body will last hours at best.  We have that long to kill Poltamir, find my son, and end this terrible mess.’

‘Why is that?’ Daneel asked.

‘Because without my casket, there is now nothing to stop my demons from overcoming me.  The next time I am forced to use my power will probably be my last.  Salu’s living corpse is my last defence if that should happen.’

‘How so?’ Daneel persisted.

Samuel eyed him darkly.  ‘If it comes to that you will find out.’

They climbed to the entrance to Poltamir’s hall and were about to enter, when Samuel glanced towards the hilltop.  Distant figures were wandering up and over.

‘Let us divert for just a moment,’ said the magician.  ‘I am curious to see what Poltamir has hidden up here.  It could help our cause.’

They clambered up the final length of the slope, unkempt grass in places along its upper heights, and stopped in shock at what waited beyond the crest.

A vast hole punctured the top of the hill, leaving only a lip around its edge for them to stand.  Paving stones had fallen in, indicating the hole had once been smaller.  Bare earth formed the sides of a steep pit, forming a funnel, and at its bottom was a monstrous set of teeth, huge curled things, undulating back and forth, grinding in against each other.

Someone stepped from the far edge, and the body tumbled down, flopping about as it rolled down the inner slope, gnashed up in a moment’s excitement by the jaws.  Several other figures followed likewise over the side, and the great mouth made short work of them.

‘Gods!’ Orrell swore.

‘What manner of beast is this?’ Daneel asked.  ‘It is enormous!’

‘It is the same as whatever attacked the Farstride,’ Leopold noted, for indeed the same black tentacles writhed around the edges of its mouth, smaller than those that assailed their ship, but unmistakable in appearance.

‘Everything here stinks of Poltamir’s magic,’ Samuel said darkly, sniffing the air.  ‘I think we know the fate of this city’s population.’

‘It makes my skin crawl,’ Orrell said.  ‘They step in as if by their own accord, driven by his infernal call.’

‘Believe me, Captain,’ Samuel said.  ‘They know what they are doing and they don’t want to; they have no ability to resist.  They would be as terrified as you imagine.’

‘It’s disgusting,’ Kali said.

‘I agree.  Come, this is something else we can raise with our host before we deprive him of his head.’

‘Look!’ Leopold called pointing behind them, for another figure was climbing the rise, and they knew this one well.

‘Merryweather!’ Orrell hissed.

He was not far, and he scaled the rise resolutely, his gaze set on the hilltop.  Orrell bound down the hill and was first to his side.  Daneel and Leopold followed closely.

‘What are you doing, man?  Stop it!’ Orrell ordered him, but Merryweather did not bat an eyelid.

‘He can’t stop,’ Leopold reminded him.

Orrell held the man by the arm, but Merryweather shrugged him off and kept moving.  The captain grabbed him by his clothing, but tall Merryweather possessed remarkable strength and towed Orrell behind him.

‘Right!’ Captain Orrell declared, and bent down and locked his arms around Merryweather’s feet, so the man fell forward flat onto his chest.  The tall fellow immediately attempted to right himself again, but Orrell fought him, sitting on his back and pinning his wrists and ankles.  Still, the captain had to use all his strength to stop the man beneath him from twisting out of his grasp.  ‘He’s strong as an ox!’

‘It’s no good,’ called Samuel.  The magician remained on the crest with Salu over his shoulder and Kali beside him.  She was holding Toby’s hand tight, as he fought against her to see back over the far side.  ‘Leave him be.  We don’t have time for this.’

‘Shut your mouth, Magician!’ Captain Orrell called back.  ‘We abandon no one!  I won’t let him jump to his death, not while there’s an ounce of strength left in me.’

‘You cannot save him, David.  Believe me.  His time has come.’

‘I told you to shut up!  I’ve had enough of your accursed visions!  All you do is throw a dark cloud over us with your talk of death!  We give up on no one!’

‘Observe,’ Samuel said, pointing along the hilltop.

They followed the magician’s finger to the opposite lip of the pit, where more men were just disappearing over the edge—Turian men.  Looking below, clusters of others in uniform—escapees from the ship—were starting up the rise in twos and threes.

‘Damn it all!’ Orrell declared in frustration.

‘We must go, Captain,’ Samuel called down.  ‘Time is passing.’

‘Give me something to bind him!’ Orrell called out, looking to Leopold and Daneel desperately.

They both patted about their persons, but neither of them had anything of use.

‘My shirt,’ Orrell said, but as he moved Merryweather lurched and threw him off.

Captain Orrell did not pursue the man, sitting instead on the hillside weeping.  He did not raise his eyes as Merryweather climbed away.

‘We should break his arms and legs,’ the man sobbed.  ‘Better than what awaits him.’

‘I have the feeling he would crawl on his shattered stumps until he somehow reached the top,’ Daneel replied frankly.

Leopold followed Merryweather’s ascent until he passed by Samuel and Kali at the top.  In the last step, Merryweather dropped away, and Kali could not hide the abhorrence on her face.  Toby fought to see past her hand over his eyes.

‘David, let’s go,’ Daneel said, crouching to Captain Orrell’s side.  ‘The magician is right.  We cannot save these men, but if we hurry we can save those that still live.’

‘Get your hands off me!’ Orrell hissed, throwing off Daneel’s attempts to help him rise.  Stubbornly, he climbed to his feet and scowled up at the magician.

When Samuel turned and started back down the slope towards Poltamir’s palace, Orrell stalked after him, and the rest of the party followed.

****

They found their way to the sitting chamber where Poltamir first entertained them, and the cloaked magician was there, patiently waiting.  As always, he stood on his platform, unwilling to show any more of himself than what they could already see.

‘We have returned,’ Samuel announced, placing the body of Salu across one of the soft chairs.  ‘We could not reject such an insistent invitation.  Destroying our ship was not really called for, Poltamir.  What were you thinking?’

‘Why were you trying to sneak away from me?’ asked Poltamir.  ‘I did not think you were one to break your word.’  His voice rattled with curiosity.

‘We were on fire.  We were actually trying to save our ship, not escape,’ Leopold replied.

‘Ah,’ the echoing voice replied.  ‘Then it appears I did overreact.  I was not to know.’

‘Where is Rei?’ Samuel asked, standing taut, his hands clutched at his sides.

‘She is here.  She came to me of her own free will, so please do not blame me for her abandoning you.  I had nothing to do with it.  Ah, here she comes now.’

A blank-faced serving girl appeared at the door and gestured into the room.  Jessicah stepped past her, and it was obvious at once by the way she moved that Rei was in control.  She came to the front of the room and stood between Samuel and Poltamir, smiling with delight.

‘So,’ she said.  ‘You have come to save me.  I am afraid I don’t need such saving.  I am quite happy here.  Poltamir has promised to make me his queen and, as you can see, there are no cords around my wrists here.  The only hands to touch me here will be tender and loving, not full of loathing and regret.’  She glared directly at Captain Orrell.

‘Why did you burn our ship?’ the captain asked her in return, brimming with anger.

She smiled warmly.  ‘Oh, David dear.  Did you not like my parting gift?  It was to thank you for the hospitality you showed me.  I’m glad you enjoyed it.  A bonfire at night is always quite spectacular, don’t you think?’

‘People died!’ Orrell hissed.  ‘The Farstride is lost!’

The look she gave him was one of genuine compassion.  ‘Oh, David, people die all the time.  Why the fuss?’

The captain looked ready to strike her down, but Daneel held out a palm to calm him.

‘Stop this foolishness,’ Samuel told her.  ‘Jessicah, push her aside.  Don’t let Rei prevail.’

‘Jessicah is gone, dear Samuel.  I have torn her soul to pieces and now only I remain.  You took my magic, and I have taken hers.  Are you surprised?  Or did you know it was there all along?’

‘You found a way to reach it?  I didn’t think you’d dare.’

‘How do you think I escaped?  Even she did not know she had it, hidden deep within her, a magic that burned me whenever I neared.  But I had nothing else to do, tied up as I was, and you’d be amazed what one will dare once one becomes desperate.  I freed myself days ago and waited until the time was right to escape.  I borrowed a tiny spark from her at first, and with practice I learned how to temper it, how to transform it into a magic more suited for my personal tastes.  I tended her power and how quickly it bloomed—a magic so pure and innocent and strong, much like Jessicah herself.  I must say, I have never seen such fierce potency, such raw potential, and now it is mine.’

‘Magic changes people, Rei.  You had no right to do that,’ Samuel told her darkly.

‘Then perhaps you made the right choice not to tell her.  She was such a delightful girl, even after what I put her through—and what she endured from all of you.  I don’t blame you for not wanting her to end up like you, Samuel.  You were right to conceal her secret.  Now, Poltamir dear, what shall we do with them?’

An unhappy rumbling shook the room and the voice of Poltamir growled.  ‘Patience, my dear.  I have asked Samuel for a favour and I still await his answer.’

‘What?’ she said with surprise, looking over at the hidden man.  ‘This is Samuel!  He is the only danger to you on this world.  He plans to kill you!  End him now!  You must!’

Poltamir roared in response and the walls cracked with his anger, letting flakes of mortar drop from the ceiling.  ‘Don’t tell me what I must do, woman!’  It took him some time to find calm and he contorted within his robes angrily, a wavering wraith.  ‘Samuel, my offer stands.  I have Rei as I wanted.  Now, will you kill Lomar for me?’

‘No!’ Rei bellowed.  ‘He did not bring me.  I came of my own accord.  He did not keep your bargain.  Kill him!’

‘Quiet, woman!’ Poltamir commanded and Rei shrank back at the deafening sound.  ‘Speak again and you will regret it.  Come, Samuel, tell me your answer.’

‘I will, Poltamir.  Undoubtedly.  For the sake of my own son, I shall kill Lomar, as you request.’

The voice that filled the room now purred with satisfaction.  ‘Ahhhh ... good.’

‘He lies!’ Rei shouted.  ‘I know Samuel inside and out and he lies to you, Poltamir!  Lomar is his friend and he will not kill him.  Samuel is not a murderer.  He is a fool!’

‘I do not care what you say, woman,’ the great voice said.  ‘My treacherous servant Lomar—whom I raised as my own son—must be punished.’

She was momentarily speechless as she searched for further ways to bring them to blows.  Her desperation vanished as some precious thought came to her.  ‘Your son is here, Samuel,’ she said.  ‘I have seen his casket, in the temple hidden below this very room.  Poltamir is keeping the boy hidden away for himself!  He sends you to Lomar to do the dirty work he cannot.’

‘Stop these lies, woman!’ Poltamir demanded.

‘I tell the truth!’

‘Poltamir!’ Samuel interrupted them.  ‘What is this about my son?’

‘He is not here.  Lomar stole him, as I said.’

‘Oh, but I am sure it was him I saw,’ Rei said innocently, ‘in a little wooden box.’

‘Rei!’

‘Poltamir?’ Samuel prompted impatiently.

‘The box is there, Samuel, but not the boy,’ Poltamir explained.  ‘Go look for yourself if you wish.  I am not stupid enough to risk your wrath over this.’

‘I shall.  You stay here and watch her,’ he said to the others.  ‘I shall be only a moment.  Daneel, call me if there is a need.  I can come in a heartbeat.’  He stalked out, letting his eyes trail on Rei as he went.

As soon as he left the room a change came over Rei.  She hurried towards them, her footsteps tapping on the stones.  ‘Quickly!’ she implored.

‘What are you trying to do, witch?’ Leopold asked.

The captain watched her with weary, watering eyes.

‘It’s me, Leopold,’ she said.  ‘Jessicah.’

She went to throw her arms around the captain.  Before she could close her embrace, he grabbed her by the wrists, scowling with repugnance.

‘David!  It’s me!  It’s really me!’

‘Is it?’ he asked, a glimmer of hope penetrating his doubt.  ‘Jessicah?’

‘It is.  Rei has let me out to talk with you.  I know what she knows.  She has spoken with me and as evil as she is, we agree on one thing.  She will give me this time to speak with you, but she does not promise anything after that.  Oh, David!’

The captain eased his hold and they hugged tightly, his eyes closed, savouring the glorious moment.

It was she who prised herself away, holding his hands in hers.  ‘Time is short.  Samuel is my cousin and I love him, but he has desperate plans for us all.  He will sacrifice us, thinking it will be our salvation, but he will unwittingly send us to our doom.’

‘I do not think so,’ Daneel said.  ‘We have come this far.  He will not abandon us.’

‘Oh, but he will.  He has lost sight of his goal.  He will never be able to contain his demons if he continues on this path.  The spirits within him deceive him.  They drive him towards an end that will see them freed.’

‘Stop this!’ Daneel said, having heard enough.  He pulled the woman roughly by the arm and threw her to the tiles.  The captain did nothing to stop him, utterly confused, too weary to act, too beaten to think.

‘Leopold!’ she cried from the floor.  ‘It’s me!  Just listen to what I have to say.  I did lie to Samuel.  There is nothing in the temple room for him to find, except the empty box, but it was the only way to give us these scant moments to talk.’

Captain Orrell looked between her and Leopold, torn.  It was plain he desperately wanted to believe her, yet evident he no longer knew what to believe.  Slowly, he bent to her side and helped her to her feet.

‘Please!’ she said.  ‘We can never allow Samuel to find his son.  The Demon King is nothing like he expects.  Neither can we allow him to challenge Poltamir.  The demons have become too strong and without his casket, there is no way for him to hold them back.  If he tries to use his magic, we are lost.  There is no way to save Samuel now.  I love my cousin dearly, but only his death will force his demons back to their realm.  Samuel will be born again, as he always has.  No harm will come to him.  Poltamir knows all this, he can tell you, but we cannot risk letting the evil inside of Samuel take control.’

‘Poltamir,’ Leopold said, calling to the shrouded, stationary figure.  ‘Is it true?’

‘It is,’ he responded, growling throughout in the room.  ‘Samuel cannot defeat me alone.  I am too powerful.  He will resort to his demons to match me—he must.’

‘See?’ Jessicah picked herself from the floor and returned to the captain’s side, holding his arm.

‘Listen to what you are saying,’ Daneel said.  ‘He is your own cousin, woman!  And why should we believe this ...’ he gestured to the form of Poltamir with disdain, ‘... this magician?’

‘I know that,’ she replied.  ‘Do you think I am proud?  But I know what lurks inside of Samuel, and it has changed him.  I have learned many things while trapped within the witch.  Leopold, I heard what Lomar told you on the ship, of Samuel’s plans to use us all.  It is true, he has always planned to use us.  The devils make him.’

‘Is it true?’ Orrell asked.

‘That is what Lomar said,’ Leopold admitted, ‘but I cannot believe Samuel would betray us, after all we’ve been through.’

‘Whether he plans any deceit or not,’ Jessicah went on, ‘his demons will arise and it will mean the destruction of everything—all the life we hold precious.  The salvation of our world does not come with battle.  Conflict will only cause our ruin.  The only way to save ourselves—to save everything—is for us to walk quietly out the door and leave Samuel to Poltamir.  We can wait in the adjoining room; it will not take long.  If he follows us, or tries to plead with us to re-join him, we must be strong and turn away.  Defeated, he will be forced to follow the righteous path.  There are no easy decisions for a ruler, Leopold.  You must choose for the good of the people ... for the good of the world.’

‘What do you think?’ Leopold asked, turning to Kali.

‘This is beyond me, Leopold.  It is up to you to decide,’ she said.

He looked to Daneel and Captain Orrell, but they were likewise unwilling to help make the decision.

‘I have known him a long time,’ Daneel admitted, ‘and he has done many dark things.  I must admit, there is nothing I would put beyond him.  Just when I think I know him, he changes yet again.’

‘It is up to you, Emperor Leopold,’ Captain Orrell stated.  ‘To aid him or not, it is up to you.’

‘But Samuel is the only way I can have my revenge upon Lomar,’ growled Poltamir.  ‘I will not be deprived of that.  Let him kill the man first.’

‘I can bring Lomar,’ Leopold revealed.  ‘He will come at my call.’

‘Lomar would come here?’ Poltamir trilled with delight.  ‘That would be even better!  Then I have no need of Samuel after all.  You can go ahead and do what you like with him—I do not care.’

‘I ... I just don’t know,’ Leopold admitted.

‘You must decide quickly,’ Jessicah said, holding tightly to Captain Orrell’s side.  ‘All our problems could be dealt with in a moment.  Just think, Leopold.  You will have saved the world.  You can return to your Empire.  It can be done, here and now, painlessly and without fuss.  No more lives will be lost.’

‘But even if we chose to, how could we possibly do it?’ Leopold asked of Jessicah.  ‘We cannot harm him.’

‘You remember his plan, Leopold—he needs us to volunteer as his servants.  Not even Samuel can force us to his cause, and believe me, he needs our help.  He will have no choice but to concede, and allow Poltamir to end his life.  This is not a victory, Leopold; it is the lesser of our possible failures.  Then, you will summon Lomar.  Once done, Poltamir will send you home.’

‘Poltamir can send us home?’ Leopold asked with hope.

‘He can—or wherever you want to go.’

‘No,’ Captain Orrell said with a sudden change of heart.  ‘I want to hear Samuel say it himself.  If I have been misled, I want the magician to admit to it.’

‘He will never admit to it!’ Jessicah declared, looking into his eyes.  ‘He will go wild at the very mention.  You must agree before he comes back, or he will confuse you, he will use his cunning to twist my words into lies.  You know he will.’

‘We shall find out,’ Orrell stated to the woman on his arm, gathering his scraps of fortitude.

‘What is this?’ Samuel asked with interest, standing in the doorway.  ‘A rebellion in my absence?  A revolt upon the castle walls?’

‘We want to know the truth, Samuel.  What do you intend to do once you find your son?’ Orrell asked.

‘I would free him,’ the magician replied openly.

‘And what would happen then?  Would we be safe?  Will the demons be defeated or made stronger as a result?’

‘Who can say, Captain?  This has always been a gamble.’

‘Would it not be safer to vanquish your son and be sure?’ Orrell asked.

‘I would not do that,’ the magician firmly replied.

‘For the sake of your boy, you would risk the unknown?’

‘I would,’ he turned to Jessicah, still clinging to the Captain’s side.  ‘Come now, Rei.  Your poison works quickly.  I step out for only a moment and you fill the room with unrest.’

‘I’m sorry, Samuel,’ she said tearfully.  ‘You know I love you, but ... but what you’ve done, what you plan to do, it’s not your fault.’

Samuel smiled.  ‘This puts us in a difficult spot.  What would you have me do, dear cousin?’

‘Put down your defences, Samuel,’ Jessicah told him.  ‘Let down your spells.  Sacrifice yourself to Poltamir.’

The magician chuckled.  ‘This is a desperate ploy, even for you, Rei.  These people are tired and in dire need of a conclusion to all this.  In such a state they may be willing to consider your lies, but they are not stupid.’

‘There is truth in her words, Samuel,’ rumbled Poltamir and Samuel turned to face the cloaked figure.  ‘You must know that I will not be easily overcome.  How will you keep your demons at bay if we battle?’

‘I will hope for a quick victory,’ Samuel replied.  ‘I am confident.  And what say you all?’ he added, looking to his party.  ‘Have you made up your minds?’

‘It’s just, we never know what to believe,’ Leopold admitted softly.

‘And we’re tired of your deceptions,’ Orrell declared, not nearly so sheepishly.  ‘When will you tell us the truth?’

‘The truth is difficult to speak,’ the magician replied.  ‘At times, I am not even sure what it is.  Even when I do, it would only harm you.’

‘So is it true, Samuel?’ Daneel asked.  ‘Could you lose control if you use your magic once more?’

‘It is possible ... highly likely in fact,’ the magician admitted.

‘Then why?’ Orrell asked.  ‘Why drag us here and maintain this charade?  Why keep us suffering?  Would you rather not just put us out of our misery and be done with it?’

‘Why?’ Samuel asked in return.  ‘Why?  Because it is the only chance we have.  The risks are great but the outcome is unimaginable—our salvation!  If you were not here, where would you be?  Still shoring up the walls in Cintar, pretending the world was well outside?’

Jessicah scoffed at this.  She stopped too late as she realised her mistake.  Of course, Jessicah would never make such a noise, and the captain shook her from his arm.

‘Bah!’ he roared, too furious for words.  ‘And you are full of lies, too, witch!’

‘Damn you all, then!’ Rei declared.  ‘Come, Poltamir.  Kill Samuel now, and then the boy can summon Lomar and you can have your revenge.’

‘I will not fight him,’ Poltamir growled.  He grew taller in that moment, with the hem of his cloak gathering almost off the ground.  ‘It is foolish.  His demons will come and that would solve nothing.  If he gave himself willingly to me, it would be acceptable, but I cannot risk anything other.  I will not call such an end upon myself.’

‘Kill him, Poltamir!’ Rei yelled with frustration.

‘I will not!’ returned the boom and it had everyone bar Samuel clamping their hands to their ears.

But Rei was pleased with his anger.  ‘Oh, Poltamir!’ she said, stepping upon his platform beside him.  She reached out to touch his cloak and he flinched out of reach.  ‘Don’t be like that.  We have been so long apart.  We can be together now, if only you will kill Samuel for me.’

‘How you have changed your tune,’ rumbled Poltamir.  ‘You once called me a snivelling little man ... how well I remember that.  Across time I have thought of little else but you, much to my regret.’

‘Yes, Poltamir,’ she whispered.  ‘I have yearned to be with you, also.’  She circled him, as she had done with Samuel long before in Cintar, running her finger around his girth.  ‘But we are together now.  What pleasures we will experience in each other’s arms.  Kill him for me,’ she whispered.

‘No,’ Poltamir’s voice hissed across the room.  ‘I will be your fool no longer.  Kill him yourself, if you can.’

‘You incompetent fool!’ she wailed, folding her arms.  ‘Then let Samuel kill you instead!’

‘Rei!’ Poltamir boomed.  ‘An asp in your heart, you treacherous woman!  You have only been with me short hours and already you turn against me!’  The room shook again as Poltamir filled with rage.  ‘So long have I lusted after your beauty, so many countless years I have planned and plotted and killed for you, and all for nothing.  I realise now I have been deluding myself with a vision of you that does not exist—and probably never has.  Yes, I realise it now.  I can sense what you are inside: a horrible, bitter, twisted thing disguised within a cloak of beauty.  At least I do not pretend anything.  I have always been repulsive and I know it, and little has changed now.  But I find myself revolted by the sight of you, Rei.  Never a crueller heart has existed!’

‘Damn you, you vile little man!’ she said.  ‘Stop hiding in your cowl and show yourself.’

She grasped Poltamir’s hood and drew it back ... and what they saw revealed was a surprise to them all.

With the cowl drawn back, there was nothing to keep the cloak suspended and it dropped to the floor.  A wavering black tentacle hovered there where a man should have been.  Rei shrieked and the appendage vanished, withdrawing rapidly into a hole in the floor directly beneath.

The room tremored again, and a howling noise issued from the hole, gathering into a single word of rage.  ‘Rei!’ bellowed the voice of Poltamir, brimming with wrath.  ‘If not for you none of this would have happened.  Look what you have done!  Look what you have done to me!  My desire for you drove me to this.  It is you I will kill, you insidious woman, and then my fury will know no bounds!’

‘No, Poltamir!’ Samuel yelled to the room.  ‘You cannot harm her.  I will not allow it.’

‘Enough of this life!  Enough of it all!  The world shall burn!’ thundered the voice.

The room continued to shake, the walls cracking, pieces of the ceiling crashing down.

Rei was standing dumbfounded, staring at Poltamir’s empty robes crumpled upon the floor, completely stunned.

Samuel went forward and pulled her roughly away.  He pushed Rei towards Captain Orrell and the surprised man grabbed hold of her once more.

‘Hold her,’ Samuel told him, ‘and don’t let her go.  Get out of here, all of you.  Meet us at the boat.  Leopold, come with me.’

Kali picked up Toby once more, while Daneel plucked up Salu and away they rushed, with Captain Orrell dragging Rei flailing behind him.

‘The palace seems to be coming apart,’ Leopold said.  ‘I think Poltamir’s beast is getting upset.’

‘Don’t you see, Leopold?’ Samuel said.  ‘There is no beast.  The thing that lives under this hill is Poltamir!  That is what he has become.’

They passed through the dining room and the plush curtain was now opened.  They could see the hole in the floor under the raised dais, with more dark robes lying flat beside it.

‘How did he become like this?’ Leopold asked.

‘Some wayward spell he could not control.  I learned to absorb the power of others, and I am guessing Poltamir strove for such an ability as well, an attempt to steal his master’s strength, but he found something else altogether.  Perhaps Lomar even tricked him into it—who knows.  It consumed him and affected his body beyond his control, filling him with an insatiable hunger he could never appease.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘I want to show you something, Leopold: the Temple of Shadows.’

‘Why?’

‘I want you to see where this all began.  And we need to delay Poltamir while the others get away.’

‘Kali did not die,’ Leopold blurted hastily as they moved along the hall.

‘What is that?’ the magician asked, continuing quickly along.

‘She did not die with the others.  You saw a shadow around her and the other men on the ship.  They died, but she did not.  Perhaps—’

‘The shadow remains,’ Samuel stated, cutting him short.  ‘Better not to speak of it.’

‘So you still believe there is no hope for her?’

‘It is not what I believe, Leopold.  I am sorry, as I said before.  It is simply fate.  Soon, she will perish.  It cannot be avoided.’

It was a room of blue that Samuel led him to, with a raised circle of stones in the centre.  Some stones had long ago been broken and lay askew from their original place.

‘The Temple of Shadows,’ Leopold said.  ‘The same as the one in Koia that was green.’

‘Another one, yes.  There are many across the world.  This is the place that Lomar escaped to many years ago, when he stole away my newborn son.  Poltamir was awaiting him, preparing his foul plans.  I suspect there was no grand palace or dome around it then.  All that would have come afterwards.’

At the side of the chamber was another room and Samuel strode determinably into it.  A velvet curtain hung against one wall, a child-sized bed its only other feature.  On the bed was a small, black casket.

‘This is it,’ said Samuel.  ‘This is the box that once contained my son.’

He opened the lid revealing the padded interior.

‘The fool Lomar opened it,’ boomed the voice of Poltamir, surprising Leopold nearly out of his skin.  ‘I had warned him not to, but he opened it a crack and that was more than enough for Lin to escape.  He abandoned his body and found another.’

‘What did you do with his body?’ Samuel demanded, calling to the room.

‘I disposed of it.  It did not live long once unoccupied.’

‘You should never have caged him.’  The magician was fuming.  ‘You tampered with the balance.’

‘You are one to talk!’ the omnipotent voice bellowed.  ‘You, who have slain two of Lin’s servants, have done more unbalancing in your short time than anyone.  How is Lin supposed to carry on without his sentinels?  Who will cultivate mankind without them?  Am I to be the only one?’

‘He will not need such help in future,’ Samuel replied.  ‘Not if I still have anything to do with it.’

‘I was impressed by the casket you fashioned,’ continued Poltamir.  ‘It took me countless years to craft the one you hold, yet you copied it from only a short examination.  Time is no petty thing.  To harness it is the greatest of skills.’

‘I have a knack,’ Samuel replied, speaking aloud to the bodiless voice.  ‘Perhaps it is another gift from the dark spirits within me?’

‘No, it is simply a mutation, pure chance,’ the voice rattled.  ‘You are an interesting quirk of nature.  I sometimes wonder what might have become of you if Lomar had not planted his seeds of evil within you.  This world sometimes creates such rare creatures as yourself, instilled with natural power.’

‘Perhaps our world is tired of the evil upon it, and fights back.  We are all part of it, and at times I sense it has realised the mischief we are up to.’

‘Perhaps,’ mused the voice.  ‘Sometime I sense the deepest rumblings running through the soil, like vast, drawn out thoughts I cannot comprehend, each one years in the making.  Still, it matters not.  Now the moment has come, I am quite looking forward to our duel.’

Samuel went to the curtain and flung it aside.  Leopold stepped back with alarm, for an enormous lidless eye was there, filling the entire wall and staring in at them, laced with throbbing red veins.

‘Why did you take him!’ Samuel demanded, unperturbed by the sight.  ‘Why did you steal away my son?’

The eye regarded him with simmering rage.  ‘I had to.  None of us would exist if I had not.  He would have grown of age and reaped his harvest by now.  You would be a babe again, somewhere upon the world, and I would have gone back into hiding, waiting for him to pass.  Or worse yet, Cang’s misguided plan may have worked and with Lin dead we would be dissolving in the guts of demons even now, never to live again, never to die.  By thwarting Cang’s scheme and stealing your boy, I saved us all.’

‘Yet that was not your motive, Poltamir.  You stole the child to steal his power and make yourself a god.  Your current condition is proof enough of that.’

‘True,’ rumbled Poltamir, ‘but Lomar ruined it.  I will quickly dispatch you, and then I shall find him.  Nothing shall stop me!  Once that is done, I will gladly wait for my master’s return, and the finish of this miserable existence.’

‘I will not let it end like this,’ Samuel declared.

‘You will have no choice!  Give in to me, Samuel, or your demons may indeed break free.’

‘Never!’ the magician replied.

Laughter echoed from all around, and the room shook violently.  The great eye descended, leaving an empty chasm behind it.  Leopold took a step to look down the hole; there was nothing visible in the darkness.  The sound of many things approaching, a violent slapping of limbs, made him retreat.

Dozens of snaking arms burst into the room.  Samuel acted swiftly, cutting the severed tentacles, letting them squirm on the floor.  The sound of even more things followed, reverberating up the tunnel.

‘Let’s go,’ Samuel exclaimed.

They left the temple, running through the buildings and finally breaking outdoors.  They tore down the slope, where gigantic tendrils rose from beneath the buildings, crashing them down around them.  The black towers broke from the ground, great talons that lifted on the end of armoured, foot-like growths.

They passed bewildered guards.  Poltamir had abandoned his droning call and his soldiers ran screaming, freed from their overseer’s domination.

‘Come, we must go,’ Samuel declared.

He grabbed Leopold around the waist and Leopold knew what was to follow.  His head reeled as they launched away, flying into the air, smashing through the bone wall of the dome and out into the morning light.  Below them, escaping down the street, were the others.  Daneel had Salu draped over his shoulders and Kali was carrying Toby in her arms, while Captain Orrell was pulling Rei behind him.

Samuel and Leopold landed not far in front of the others and, thankfully, this time it was a gentle descent.

‘Leopold!’ Kali called hurrying towards them.

Far behind, the immense dome cracked.  It split like an egg, enormous pieces of roof falling in upon itself, and thousands of tentacles forcing their way out.  At their core, forcing itself up from beneath the hill, rose the torso of the beast that was Poltamir—a column of leathery flesh the size of a mountain, covered in countless squirming arms, large and small, continuing to rise until it dwarfed its former enclosure.

‘Watch out!’ Captain Orrell warned as a nearby ebony tower erupted from the ground.  It arched itself up on the end of its snaking appendage and pounded down beside them, crushing a row of houses beneath its weight.  Every moment, in every direction, more such things were rising from the earth.

‘Where does it end?’ Daneel shouted.  ‘How big is this thing?’

‘He is beneath this whole city,’ the magician explained.  ‘And given that he could reach our ship, perhaps even further.  I will have to kill him.  Keep going.  Get away, as far as you can.  Leopold, your sword.’  Leopold had no time to flinch before his father’s weapon came flying from its sheath into the magician’s hand, without him taking his eye from the mountainous beast that was bringing ruin to the city.  ‘Daneel, guard Salu well.  If I live, I will need him after this.’

In a flash the magician was gone to battle, cutting through rows of snaking tentacles on his way as they burst from the streets.

A roar of anger issued from Poltamir, his limbs thrashing in anger.  He drew the entirety of his body from the earth, trailing thick roots below.  He heaved his mass forwards, sending up clouds of dust at his base that swallowed the city at his foot.  The dome had entirely collapsed now, a thin shell crushed beneath him.

They tried to run, but more of Poltamir’s limbs lurched from the ground.  They changed route a dozen times trying to find a way through the maze of destruction to the coast.  Meanwhile, behind them, Samuel and Poltamir waged their cataclysmic battle.

The ocean appeared, but the stretch of street tore itself up in front of them, as another tentacle raised itself to full height and wavered hesitantly.  The street was impossible to cross, and it left them standing there, wondering which way to go.

Rei looked crestfallen, surveying the destruction.  She turned, casting her gaze upon the gigantic, repugnant body of Poltamir: a hairy, blackened egg.

Captain Orrell held her by the shoulders and shook her.  ‘Jessicah!’ he said.  ‘Jessicah, can you hear me?’

‘She’s gone,’ Daneel told him, regarding the captain with pity.

‘No,’ he said determinedly.   ‘I know she is still in there.  She has to be!’

Rei shook her head with dismay.  ‘Poltamir?  Poltamir!’  She laughed, slightly at first but growing louder and more maniacal.  Her hair was across her face.  ‘Good!’ she wailed.  ‘I am glad it has come to this.  Look at him!  Look at what the fool did to himself!  And now he and Samuel will destroy each other!  What a beautiful finale!’

Beams of light shone from the magician, lightning crackled, and the distant atom of his form flashed about, sending lengths of Poltamir’s flesh dropping to the ground with each pass, crushing city blocks underneath—but Poltamir was endless.  What he lacked in speed he made up for in mass, and he attacked Samuel from all directions, more of his tendrils rising from the ground at his base, infinite in number.

Samuel peeled away from the battle and coursed towards the group.  He landed before them, but the man that arrived was very different to the one that had left.

‘Samuel!’ Leopold said with wonder.  ‘What have you done to yourself?’

His skin had changed, transformed into a perfect black stone.  The magician opened his gleaming fist and dropped Leopold’s sword to the earth—the steel was glowing hot and twisted.

‘I have changed myself,’ he replied, his mouth unmoving, his voice alien, echoing out of his chest, ‘to better fight him.  Don’t worry; I can change back if I wish.  I am sorry about your sword, Leopold.  It served us both well, but its usefulness is at an end.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Leopold said, shaking his head as he looked at the ruined length of steel.  ‘What will you do?’

‘I fight on.’  As he spoke, a cracked corner of his face fell away, revealing molten fire underneath.

‘You’re hurt!’ Kali said.

‘True, but I cannot give up.  I just needed a brief respite.’

Behind him, Poltamir was hauling himself across the city.  He was titanic in scale, yet he dragged his bulk across the city with surprising speed, tearing up his tentacles behind him, or snapping them off at the ground like unwanted roots.  The network of limbs that rose across the city trembled as he cut his link with them, then continued their wavering, some autonomous sense in them taking over.

‘Now go,’ Samuel told them, and with a flick of his finger the hole in the street filled with rubble, a bridge for them to cross.

Again the magician flew to battle, but his companions remained motionless.

‘What’s wrong?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Why aren’t we moving?’

‘There’s no point, Leopold,’ Daneel stated, and he plopped old Salu upon the dusty road.  ‘We can’t outrun the beast.  Even if we made it to the coast, what then?’

‘We could ... we could ...’ Leopold stammered, but even he could find no answer.

‘Look,’ Daneel said, thrusting his finger towards the sea, for between collapsed buildings they could see a patch of blue, and dark, sinewy things were bristling upon the water in wait.  ‘We can’t hope to outrun it.  It’s everywhere!’

‘What is that?’ Kali called and Leopold turned his attention to the city once more.

Some shining haze had formed around Samuel, even as he continued battling the giant.  A red fire surrounded him, blazing behind as he flew.

‘He’s changing,’ Leopold said.  ‘The demons are taking him, but he fights on.  He has no casket.  If he continues, we won’t be able to save him.’

‘He mentioned Salu,’ Daneel said, looking to the old man’s body on the ground, ‘but only he knows what to do.’

‘Where is Toby?’ Leopold then asked, for moments before the boy had been standing beside them.

‘There!’ Kali called.

The boy has climbed onto the shattered stump of a building and was peering at the calamity of Poltamir.

‘I’ll go,’ Leopold said, and clambered after him.  When he had scaled up beside the boy he saw there were tears in his eyes.

‘Toby, what is it?  What’s wrong?’ Leopold asked.

Toby looked at him, eyes trembling, glistening, his mouth moving silently as he attempted to speak.  Unfulfilled, he turned back to follow Samuel as the boiling shroud of fire continued to expand.

‘Toby, come down from there!’ Kali beckoned from below, offering up her hand.  The boy ignored her pleas.

The fiery form of Samuel vanished amongst the nest of writhing appendages around Poltamir’s body.

‘Where has he gone?’ Leopold asked when the magician did not immediately reappear.

They waited.  The echoes of battle faded across the city.  Only the hissing sounds of Poltamir’s incessant movements carried on the wind.  Then, all the countless tendrils became agitated and convulsed wildly, excited.  A sound followed, like a scream from ten thousand tortured mouths, and a blinding flash of light erupted from Poltamir’s core.  A wall of dust raced along the streets, and, as it passed Leopold and the others, it carried a muffled boom that sent them to their knees.

The forest of tentacles, raised up from so many openings in the streets, fell flat, flopping to the earth, crushing everything below in clouds of billowing dust, and were still.

More distant rumbling followed, and the central core of Poltamir split open, falling apart—a ruined husk—and something new came striding from its middle.  It was a gargantuan, naked figure bathed in flames, half of Poltamir’s height, with nine faces spread across its monstrous, wolf-like head.  All their mouths roared and it shook its fists with fury, stomping in the ruined corpse of its foe, snapping pieces of black flesh away and clawing them to the earth.

Another flash of light followed.  This time, the creature held out its arms, and the corpse of Poltamir contracted, falling upon itself, sucked in towards this being of fire.  The giant appendages of dark, taloned flesh withdrew, snaking back under the ground, turning to vapour and absorbed into the beast.  The newly formed creature roared triumphantly, stretching its neck to the sky.

With its victory howl complete, the creature turned its attention to those who watched it.  It lifted its huge leg and strode towards them, setting the earth to shudder.

‘What is that?’ Kali asked.  ‘The monster has changed its form!’

‘No,’ Leopold said, for he knew the look of the blazing beast well.  ‘Poltamir is dead.  It is Samuel who has changed.  It is too late.  He has been overwhelmed by his demons.’

The burning giant crossed the shattered cityscape, each step spanning city blocks.

They stared at it, stupefied.

‘Quickly.  Take him,’ Leopold said to Kali, urgency in his voice, grabbing Toby and holding him towards the woman.

She took the boy and set him down; then Leopold scrambled after.  Kali was immediately away, loping towards the beast that was once Samuel.

‘What are you doing?’ he cried after her.

She slowed only to shout her reply over her shoulder.  ‘I have to stop it.  Run!’

As such, Kali sped towards the demon, impossibly outmatched, rushing to meet her destiny.

‘Come back!’ Leopold cried after her, but she did not listen.  He wanted to run after her, but he would only be throwing away his own life as well.

He looked to the others hopelessly.  Daneel stood dumb, his mouth open as he stared at the beast, his sword lying in the dirt where he had dropped it.  Captain Orrell still held Rei by the forearm, but he need not have bothered.  She pointed towards the beast and laughed insanely.

‘Come on,’ Leopold said to them, picking up Toby and preparing to flee.  The demon was now only three of its massive steps away.

Toby did not wriggle as expected.  He did something entirely unexpected, that momentarily wiped their impending death from Leopold’s mind.

‘Put me down,’ the boy whispered into his ear, his words clear and articulate.

Leopold stared at the child in his arms, then did as asked, gently setting him upon the ground.

Toby looked up at the demon, a single stride away and ‘Father!’ he called towards it.  ‘Father, I am here!  You have found me.  Put your demons away!’

The beast raised its monstrous hoof to crush them—and stopped short, setting its foot aside, causing an avalanche of roofs.  It bent itself over, hanging its devilish head over them, and the heat was scalding upon their skin.  Its many faces merged into one, and it roared at them, blasting heat and noise.  Then, the ghoulish red fire around it flared up, blown by a gust of wind—and the demon was gone.

Samuel appeared mid-air in its place, where its heart would have been, and he fell to the earth, bouncing on the busted street-stones like a dropped child’s doll.

They ran to where he fell, lying on the earth, smouldering like a quenched fire.  His skin had reverted from stone, yet he was cut, scratched, bruised and beaten, his clothes shreds of cloth burnt to his skin.  Yet he was alive.

Samuel gazed at the boy in disbelief, struggling painstakingly to his knees as Toby knelt beside him.  Toby leant in and spoke closely, then Samuel threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.  Tears streamed from the magician’s eyes.

‘My son!’ he gasped.  ‘My son!  I have found you!’

‘What has happened?’ Orrell asked.  ‘What does it mean?’  He had left Rei fallen into a heap, oblivious to the events around her.

‘It means we’ve found the Demon King,’ Leopold said in awe.  ‘Or rather, he has been with us all along.’

‘Toby?’ the captain queried of his Emperor.

‘That’s right.  Or so it seems.’  Leopold returned his attention to Samuel, and went to state the obvious.  ‘Samuel, you have found—’

The magician’s finger snapped to his blistered lips, signalling for Leopold to hush before finishing the phrase that would summon Lomar.  Leopold had not thought to say it.  Somehow, it nearly slipped from his mouth unbidden.

‘Toby is Samuel’s son?’ Daneel asked, his single eye blinking with confusion.  ‘Toby is the Demon King, the monster we have been seeking all this time?’

‘Apparently,’ Leopold replied.  ‘Toby?’

The boy ignored him, instead helping Samuel climb to his feet.  The magician’s face was smeared with soot and ash.  He appeared full of shock, joy and sorrow all at once.

‘Samuel?’ Leopold ventured, for he was perplexed by it all.

The sound of feet approaching caught their attention, and Kali came loping back to be with them.

‘Kali!’ Leopold exclaimed, as the woman stopped to get her breath.  ‘You’re alive!’

‘I am,’ she said, panting.  ‘The demon stepped right over me to get to you.  Where has it gone?’  She glanced around, ignorant of the recent revelations.

At that moment, it was Toby’s turn to fall.  His body went slack, caught in Samuel’s arms.  The boy’s eyes were shut, his mouth hung open.

‘What is happening here?’ Kali asked.

‘This is my son,’ the magician replied. ‘In another life, long ago, I named him Marrag Lin.  He is the Demon King that would destroy us, yet he has driven back the demons within me and saved me ... and saved us all.  Beyond belief, he has given us the time we need.’

‘Time for what?’ Leopold asked.

‘Time to save the world,’ Samuel told him.  ‘It has begun.  He readies to come amongst us.  When he arrives, he will be not too dissimilar to the devil he has just defeated.  If we do not stop him, it will be the end of us all.’

‘Then why is he helping us?’ Kali asked.

‘The part of him that was Toby was not the whole being.  It was only a fraction of his essence, a curious fragment exploring the world it was about to consume.  His essence now gathers around us, attracted by my newfound strength and the demons I contain.  He has decided it is time to make the harvest.  Toby is gone.  The Demon King will be here very shortly.’

‘How could this have happened?’ Daneel asked, bewildered.

‘I am guessing a part of Lin wanted to rediscover himself, to see our world through human eyes, as he once did.  We will ask Lomar.  He is the one who will know.’

‘And where is Lomar?’ the eyepatched man enquired.

‘Until now, I could not find him, but I realise there is only one place in the world where he could be hiding.’  He looked to those gathered around him.  ‘It is not quite over yet.  Where we are going, I will need your help.  I hope you can take this last step with me.’

‘Of course,’ Leopold responded for all of them.

‘But, Samuel, what of Jessicah?’ Captain Orrell asked, facing the troubled woman.  ‘Is there still nothing you can do for her?’

Samuel gained his feet, passing Toby to Kali, and approached Rei, still sitting upon her dress on the broken street.  With each stride, his robes reknitted themselves new, his cuts healed and his bruises faded.  The dirt fell from his skin and it was the strong, vital form of the magician that overlooked his cousin.

‘Rei ... listen to me.  It is over.  Lin has returned.  He is here, and I need your help.  Let Jessicah free, and you can pass on.  You will never be born again, but that is a natural fate not to be feared.  Hear me.  I have opened your prison doors.  It is up to you to walk out.’

The woman looked up at him, attracted more by the sound of his voice than his words.  Her confusion subsided and she closed her eyes.  She looked afraid, as if in pain from a splinter being drawn out, but then it passed, and relief washed over her.  She opened her eyes again, and it was Jessicah alone looking out.

The magician offered her his hand and, taking it, she stood.

‘Samuel,’ she said, her voice trembling.  ‘I’m so sorry.  She was too strong.’

‘It was not your fault.’

‘I feel so ashamed.  I know it wasn’t me ... but part of it was.’

‘Then tell me, Jessicah, how to do you feel now?’

She paused a moment.  ‘Free.’

‘Then it was not you, no matter how you felt.  Those feelings were not yours.  The shame was all Rei’s.’

She hugged him tightly, and the magician embraced her in return.  When she pulled herself away, she turned to Captain Orrell hesitantly.

‘Samuel,’ the man asked, ‘is it really her?’

‘It is, David.’

He stepped forward and grabbed her into his arms, and she squeezed him just as fiercely.  It was a deep hug, a desperate hug, a release of fears and hopelessness.  Captain Orrell ran his hands through her hair, and his tears flowed.  ‘Oh, Jessicah,’ he said.  ‘I thought I had lost you.’

‘Never,’ she replied.

Leopold could not help notice Kali smiling contentedly.

‘Come, let us go,’ Samuel announced.  ‘Our victory is not yet complete.  The last of the Ancient Ones is dead.  Only Lomar remains.  ’

‘Where will we go?’ Leopold asked.  ‘We have no ship.  It was lost.’

‘We need no ship to reach our destination.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We are going somewhere I have been before.  I know the place well—where it all began.  Pick him up,’ he instructed of Daneel, and the caped man retrieved his fallen sword and dutifully plucked up the body of Salu.  ‘Give me the boy,’ he instructed Kali, and she handed the child to him without hesitation.

Leopold was about to ask a question, when the world shifted and the land of Euda vanished.

Chapter Ten

The Desert of Glass

AT FIRST, EVERYTHING was confusing.  Total blackness engulfed them.  It seemed they were bodiless minds floating amongst a nothingness, but as their eyes adjusted, it became apparent that stars were glittering above.  Gradually, more details grew perceivable.

The broken city of Trithi was gone, replaced by a perfectly flat, featureless expanse.  A shallow lake surrounded them, the stars mirrored upon its surface, slightly dimmed replicas of those above, extending all the way to the distant, curved, glimmering sliver that marked the curvature of the earth.

Not a ripple or wave marred the tranquillity of that lake.  No fish or bird stirred.  And those still, black waters ran from as far as the eye could see right up to their feet, where they stood upon its rigid surface.

The dim outlines of each other were visible—everyone present and accounted for.  Samuel’s pale face was the only clear part of him, the rest more night against the stars.  His son almost seemed to be floating in the air, cradled by two slender hands that protruded from midnight sleeves.

Leopold slowly turned full circle, taking in the scene, wondering where the magician had taken them.  The others were doing the same, staring in puzzlement, their features vague in the near darkness.

Kali knelt down and rapped her knuckles upon the substance beneath their feet, sounding a solid tap.  ‘Glass,’ she said.

Indeed, it seemed the surface surrounding them was not water, but a single flat sheet of glass that spanned the horizons, a mirror reflecting the heavens.  It was unlike anything any of them had ever seen, a strange otherworldly landscape, completely silent.

Cool air brushed Leopold’s cheek—no sea breeze, for it was stale and dry—and it chose that moment to bluster, whispering as it swirled across the plain, carrying specks that bit their skin.

A flattened splinter of glowing white rose in the distance: the full moon, just edging above the horizon.  Its upper portion was reflected beneath it, an illusion of an inflating ball.

Leopold rubbed his boots against the ground and found it slippery.  A fine layer of sand gave him enough traction to stand, but it was not enough to fully obscure the dulled copy of himself that stared back at him.

‘Over there,’ Jessicah said, still clutching onto the captain and pointing with one arm, for a light had appeared in a dwelling a short distance away.  Until then, it had been another spot of darkness between the stars.

Samuel passed his son back to Kali, who cradled the feverish boy, while Daneel continued to hold the body of old Salu across his shoulder like the carcass of a hunted boar.

‘Where are we?’ Captain Orrell asked with wonder.

‘This used to be Mount Karthma,’ Samuel told them.  ‘We are in the middle of what was once the Paatin desert.  The desert still exists, beyond the horizon, but here, it has been blasted into this.  This is the heart of the Darkening.’

‘We’re back in Amandia?’ Daneel queried with amazement.

‘Yes,’ Samuel said.

‘What did this?’ Orrell asked.  ‘I have never seen such terrain.’

‘Another magician called Cang summoned a stone from the heavens.  It was his goal to destroy the Demon King, even though he knew most of humanity would be lost in the process.  Luckily, that singular Starfall was averted, but the broken pieces still rained upon the earth and caused the Darkening.  Some struck Garteny.  Others struck further east.  The largest piece landed here and the magical stone of Mount Karthma was transformed into this, a sea of glass.  The place still retains its magic defying powers, so it is here that I could not find Lomar; until now.’

‘And what is that?’ Leopold asked, gesturing towards the tiny dwelling.

‘Our destination,’ Samuel responded.

A figure was standing outside the building, cloaked in black cloth that fluttered with the wind.  As they neared, they could see it was Lomar.

He beckoned for them to come closer, waiting for them with a strange, welcoming smile.  The deep brown skin of his face still retained the wrinkles of someone kind.  His short grey hair and stubbled beard were speckled with grey, and he did not appear like any kind of foe.  Indeed, if he was their enemy he did not act like it now.  He was far more appealing in features than Samuel ever could be.

‘Come, come!’ he called to them.  ‘You’ve all made it.  Wonderful.  Come inside.’  And he returned into his hovel, stooping over to get his tall form through the entranceway.

‘Do we follow him?’ Leopold asked.

Samuel nodded.  ‘It is time for everyone to show their cards.  This will all be finished soon.’

‘Are you not concerned, Samuel?’ the Emperor asked.

The magician did not answer immediately, and as he ducked down to enter the dwelling he paused and looked back to Leopold.  ‘What will be, will be, Leopold.’

It was an honest answer, but not particularly reassuring.

Inside, the building was a single rounded room, with the most modest of comforts.  A fire burned beneath a primitive chimney, yet the air was free of the smell of smoke.  The room was evenly lit, rather than with the flickering light one would expect from such a fireplace.  Some bedding sat against the wall with a bucket of water with some cups stacked beside it.  A round wooden table took up the middle of the space with four chairs around it.

‘Come, sit,’ Lomar invited them, smiling, and he used his ladle to fill the cups, placing them on the table.

‘Is this real?’ Leopold asked, glancing about the room.

Lomar granted him the warmest smile.  ‘As real as we need it to be.  I have been here for some time and never found it lacking.  The water will certainly quench your thirst, the chairs will hold your weight.  What could be realer than that?’

Leopold could not object and so sat alongside Samuel as the magician seated himself down.  Jessicah sat at the other side of the magician and Captain Orrell stood behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.  His fingers caressed her shoulders, and he flourished from that comforting touch, now appearing more like the champion of old.

Kali pulled the last chair around to be beside Leopold, rather than sit with her back to Lomar as he crouched beside the fire.  She sat with Toby cradled on her lap, stroking the boy’s hair away from his eyes all the while.  He was sweating and panting, but there was little they could do for him.

Daneel laid Salu gently upon the bedding that hugged the wall and then he stood waiting by the doorway, arms folded.

They regarded Lomar sternly, but the tall man only looked back at them happily, and expectantly, as if he was waiting for some form of congratulation.  He grunted and shuffled about as he positioned a tiny stool beneath himself—barely shin high itself—and took the weight off his legs.

‘So,’ Samuel said.  ‘Here we are.  You might as well commence.  I’m sure you have much to say.’

Lomar nodded and conveyed his tale, as requested.  ‘I’m so happy to see you all.  Of course, I am happiest to see you, my dear friend Samuel.  But I can see from your face that you do not share the sentiment, which is understandable given the circumstances.  You have changed so much and become the magician I always knew you would.

‘We once spoke of ourselves being like trees.  Do you remember?  Well, what wonderful branches you have grown!  You are spectacular, Samuel.  And how my heart gladdens to see you again.  But, time is short so I will get to the point.  I know you all expect to hear what I have been doing, and why, so I will not delay any further.

‘My plan has been exactly this: you have found your son, Samuel, and you have gained the power you need to free him.  You are now the most accomplished magician to walk the earth since his coming to power—perhaps greater.  Everything is in place.  You are ready to save the world.  Well done, my friend.  I could not have dreamed of better.’

‘That’s it?’ Samuel asked.  ‘You put me through a lifetime of suffering, and all you can say is well done?  Are you not worried that I might strike you down?’

‘Why would you do that?’ the other magician asked with all seriousness.  ‘Your goal is within reach.  Don’t you want to save your boy?—and the world with him?’

Samuel eyed the man suspiciously.  ‘Then you have no more planning or conniving?  You will not fight us or seek to set us against each other as you have so many times before?’

‘I do not understand,’ Lomar said, again entirely straight-faced.  ‘I have no intention of stopping you.  You are about to do what no one has ever done before you, since your own son became a god.  Once you supplant Marrag, I am sure you will do a better job of protecting the world than he—and I’m not implying he wasn’t capable.  It’s just that as the eons passed he lost track of the path he first embarked upon.  He has kept us from extinction, but as I think we all agree, most of humanity has tired from paying the cost: existing, but as little more than cattle.

‘The only additional matter is, have you told your companions yet what they will be doing in their new roles?  Do they know what to expect?’

‘I never planned to use them like that, Lomar.  That was only your own cruel imagination at work.’

‘Oh really?’ the taller magician responded, surprised.  ‘I had simply assumed that was your intention.  How could it be any other way?  Without minions, how will you return to the world?  How will you be reborn?  You must be reborn or you won’t be able to regather your strength.  You are certainly making things more difficult for yourself.’

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Samuel told him, taking his turn to be smug.

Lomar was not perturbed, and continued on happily.  ‘Then I assume you must have such details in hand, Samuel.  Your son’s consciousness gathers around us now like countless, invisible moths to a flame—and the flame is you, Samuel.  He will soon be upon us.  I am not sure you will have time to speak together before he begins his work.’

‘We will speak,’ Samuel stated assuredly.  ‘Once he senses that the Ancient Ones are no more, he will investigate.  He will sense the great loss of magic from the world and he will wonder what has happened.’

Lomar raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued on something the younger magician had said.  ‘I think you are mistaken about that, Samuel, along with many things,’ Lomar said.  ‘The minions of Lin were not the Ancient Ones.  The Ancient Ones are truly powerful, but they long precede the time you or your son first walked on the earth.  They have been in existence since the first knots of life ebbed out an existence upon the Pattern.  You have not been dispatching the Ancient Ones, dear Samuel; you have been feeding them.  They are the demons inside you; the horrors that seek to overcome us—the ones that your son has been protecting us from all this time.  They are everywhere, surrounding our world, ever trying to devour us.  You should know.  You were there at the beginning, when they first arrived, courtesy of your boy.  Your name was Darrig then, but it was you.’

‘That was a long time ago.  I have no memory of it.’

‘You may have no memory of it, but you were there.  Come, does it make any sense?  The Ancient Lick, the language of the demons whispers in your ear even now.  Does it make sense that such a vile tongue comes from man?  Of course not.  The Old Tongue is what we spoke in those early days, derived from the innate power of our world, and that is why the Ancient Lick is even stronger.  It is not from here.  It was brought here along with the demons who speak it; that is why it brings madness, and why it is forbidden.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel said.  ‘I accept what you say, but it makes little difference.  I have been pursuing the Ancient Ones, I have been pursuing demons—what does it matter what they are called or where they are from?’

‘It will make a great difference if everything you base your plans on is likewise flawed,’ the taller magician chided.  ‘How will you take up the role of our protector if you do not have everything accounted for—if you do not even know the details?  Oh, I am very disappointed, Samuel.  I put everything on your lap and all you had to do was stick the pieces together.’

‘Firstly,’ Samuel retaliated, ‘your disappointment does not concern me in the slightest.  Secondly, I do not plan to do as you assume at all.  I will end Lin’s legacy, but I shall not take up his mantle, for that role shall not be needed once I am done.  I plan to rid us of the demons forever.  I will remove all trace of them from us, and they will never haunt us again.’

Lomar scoffed.  ‘Oh, Samuel.  You know full well that is not possible.  The Old Ones are everywhere.  They peek at us through the fabric of the Pattern like thieves in the night, looking through our windows, like a murderer standing in the doorway.  They dwell now in the very nature of man.  You yourself are riddled with them.  There is no way to resist them, save the eternal war that your son commenced, which can never be won or ended.’

‘There is another way,’ Samuel declared.  ‘Since the darkening, my Truthseekers have been ridding the world of magicians and now, only you and I remain.’

‘Of course,’ Lomar agreed.  ‘That was your cruel attempt to gain humanity some time.’

Samuel kept his gaze aimed squarely at the other magician.  ‘It is more than that.  There is no one left in the world who could call to the demons, no one who could attract them.  All knowledge and history of magic, of power, of the Ancient Lick, I have purged from the world.  Soon, magic will be only a fairy tale, something to frighten children at night, along with the myth of demons.  There will be nothing left to attract your Ancient Ones.’

‘Nonsense.  These things are part of us.  And demons come to anyone who calls them.  They come without being called at all!’  His bold edges were becoming frayed, the pitch of his voice raising.

‘But they come to the strongest first,’ Samuel corrected.  ‘Like moths to the flame, if I may use your words.  I am not vain enough to believe every single magician across the world has been eradicated, or every book and notion destroyed, but that is not so important.  As you say, demons are drawn to power, and to those who call to them, and I have been calling longer and louder than anyone.  All the demons of note, all the Ancient Ones of any worth, are now in this room ... within me.’

Lomar seemed to grasp what Samuel was suggesting.  ‘You have been calling them deliberately?  This is foolishness!  You know you cannot contain them forever.  No wonder you have been struggling!’

‘You should know, Lomar.  It was you who first instilled them within me, was it not?’

Lomar smiled.  ‘So you know?  Yes, I did, that first day when I met you.  You were just a child and I planted them into you when I first touched your brow.  I had been carrying them very carefully, nurturing them as they slept until the day I eventually found you—as I knew I would.  They were the seeds of greatness that would churn in your belly and drive you on.  They inspired you when you needed reinforcement.  They saved you many times I am sure, bringing you back from the brink.  And the demons bided their time within you, waiting for you to become potent, to become their weapon, their tool to obliterate this world.’

‘And from that day forward I could see death itself,’ Samuel added.  ‘Any time someone was about to expire, the demons let me see the portent of their doom.  I must say it is quite an experience to know when loved ones are going to die, not being able to do a thing about it.  It had quite a profound effect on me—but let’s not delve into such details.  Suffice to say, you were always there to watch over me, the kind soul you were, ready to end me if my demons got the upper hand prematurely.’

‘That was to be avoided if at all possible,’ Lomar stated matter-of-factly.

‘Of course it was—that would ruin your plan, all your plotting.  Well, I have them now, all the demons I could find—the biggest and the greatest—and they will never bother us again.  I will take care of them … and they will not escape from what I have prepared for them.’

‘You ... you would sacrifice yourself?’ Lomar presumed, quite nervously, then scoffed again.  ‘But you cannot.  You know your houseguests would simply flee.  No harm would come to them through your death.  They are bodiless souls.  Senseless rubbish!’

‘But the legacy of my son’s mistake can be ended.  Both of us know I can never dare become a god with such evil within me.  It would mark the end of the world.  They would overcome me and there would be no one to stand in their way—not with Lin removed from his post.  Not even you could be so foolish not to realise this.  But I don’t think you want the demons to prevail either, do you?  No, I think you know these things very well.  Why else would you bring me to this?  Why guide me all my life, subtly nudging my direction to make me powerful?  Why would you do any of it at all?

‘I can think of only one reason.  Right now, I am feverishly on the edge of becoming a god.  I can barely contain my spirit within this perforated vessel any longer.  It craves release, to be free from this cage of meat and bone, and my demons are frantic with anticipation.  Not coincidentally, the Demon King—my son—is about to manifest here beside me.  Perhaps he could stop me from becoming this terrible thing?  Perhaps he could not?  Am I on the right track?’

Lomar’s smile did not falter, even as Samuel continued.

‘I know you would not simply want the demons to consume this world, Lomar—what would be the point of that?  You could have let Starfall play out and that would have accomplished the same thing.  No, you have long wanted something else ... something far more treacherous.  You intended for me and my son to be here together, to be equals—me at my peak, and he drained and recently returned to find his strength.  My demons are strong, and it would not take much for me to be overcome.  Is that what you have planned for me, my friend?  Do you intend for the father to challenge the son?’

Still, the taller magician did not speak.

‘You can correct me anytime if I am mistaken,’ Samuel said, raising an eyebrow.

‘No, go ahead,’ Lomar stated.  ‘I am enjoying your ramblings immensely.  Such rampant misconception fascinates me.’

Samuel met Lomar’s ingratiating smile with one of his own.  ‘But where would that leave us?  A battle of such magnitude—it would be far worse than the Darkening.  Such conflict might do all sorts of unfortunate things.  I’ve seen firsthand what happens when the Pattern is placed under strain.  Too much power in too little a place …’

‘It would destroy the world!’ Lomar finished, his eyes wide with excitement.  ‘Everything would be ended!  Better than that, the demons’ link to their home world, that stitch in the Pattern which anchors their portal, would unravel.  The fabric of the ether would tear from point to point, all the Weaves and Flows torn to shreds.  The result would be—’

‘Annihilation,’ Samuel said.  ‘At the very least, it would extinguish every star visible in the night sky.  Perhaps something might survive, far away, at the edges of the heavens.  You don’t want a victor from all this.  You want an end to the Eternal War once and for all, and you want all participants to be vanquished.  No winners.  No losers.  Nothing would exist at all.  Sheer folly!’

Lomar closed his eyes and smiled, as if recalling a wonderful dream.  ‘Sweet nothing,’ he said, opening them once more.  ‘Only through nothing, a complete absence of life, can we be safe from evil.  We can never be free of them,’ he added, very factually.  ‘No matter what we do, eventually, some other wickedness will rise against us; if not the Ancient Ones, then something else.  There are always more demons hiding in the wings, waiting for their opportunity to smite us.  It is the nature of life to eventually turn to evil, to give in to the temptations of jealousy and greed.  It cannot be avoided.  My way, we can put such troubles behind us.  A perfect solution.  No more wars, no more pain ... only calm, uninterrupted tranquillity.’

‘Madness!’ Daneel declared from the doorway, scowling.

‘Not madness.  Perfection.  The beautiful Void calls to me.  All this life and death is senseless.  All I have ever craved is nothingness, and that dream is almost upon us.  It was Salu who whispered it to me,’ and he extended his fingers towards the supine man on his bed, ‘long ago when I first discovered him.  But in truth, my plans were never so fiendishly clever as you postulate.  Until recently, I was simply following Poltamir’s orders.

‘Everything was part of his scheme: to capture your son, to subdue him and somehow reap his powers, to prolong his own existence—a hopelessly foolish idea.  The Dark Ones inside you were small—just enough to give you an edge.  We often resort to such lengths, and then kill the host when their usefulness has ended—before the demons can grow beyond control.  But how was I to know you would survive Rei’s dungeons and call even more of them upon yourself?

‘Still, we assumed Starfall would take care of all that.  It was only when I learned of your survival; that, remarkably, you survived Starfall, and I realised there must be some reason for it, for your survival against all odds, for your very existence, at this, the exact same time as I am here to guide your way.  It could not be merely chance—so I sought out Salu for his guidance and he gave me the wonderful answer in a single word—the Void!  Of course, he muttered on about other things, but the rest of what he said was inconsequential ranting.

‘With my glimmer of hope, I realised you were the key to unravelling all this.’  He gestured with one open palm to everything surrounding him.  ‘With a little more goading you would gain the potential to face Marrag Lin and match him pound for pound—and that would result in our much-deserved obliteration.  Ah, serenity.  I have craved such repose all my life!’

‘That is not serenity,’ Samuel corrected.  ‘It is folly.  Serenity only exists when something is there to experience it.  Why force such lunacy upon others?’

‘Why not?’ Lomar said genuinely.  ‘I did not ask for this life.  It was forced upon me.’

‘So you condemn our world and countless others because you were raised as a tool by Poltamir?   You destroy us all because you were unloved?  Is that what this is all about?’

‘Yes,’ Lomar replied with a contented smile.

‘It was in your hands to save us, Lomar!  Innumerable lives have been lost.  All this could have been averted if only you had come to me for help.’

‘I have never been free to make such choices!’ Lomar responded angrily.

‘Everyone is free, my friend,’ Samuel corrected him.

‘I think something is happening!’ Kali interrupted, for Toby was breathing harder, panting like a fish.  His chest heaved up and down, and froth was gathering on his lips.  ‘What do we do?’ she asked, trying to hold him still, but the words had barely been uttered when Toby convulsed one more time upon her lap ... and was still.

‘What’s happened?’ Jessicah asked fearfully.  ‘Is he dead?’

Kali sat with the boy on her lap, her hands shaking, mortified.

Daneel leant over and put his ear to the boy’s chest.  ‘His heart still beats.  He breathes.’

‘That was close,’ Lomar noted.  ‘His spirit is trying to free itself, like pulling a foot from a tight-fitting shoe.  Marrag Lin will be with us presently ... to begin his work.  You have failed, Samuel.  Whether you like it or not, you will face your son and he will fight you.  My dream cannot be spoiled.  Of that, I have been sure.’

‘I can easily concede defeat, Lomar,’ Samuel stated.  ‘If I destroy myself now, there will be no demons here to challenge him.  Nothing you say will happen.’

‘Killing yourself is the one thing you cannot do, Samuel.  Even I know that.  You need your little friends here to end your life, and I can stop them before they lift a finger—if it came to that.  No, I know you will stay and I know you will take up the challenge, Samuel, for I know you better than you know yourself.  This is your only opportunity to save your precious child, and who can tell if another will ever arise?’

‘It is still better than the alternative.  I can live with that.’

‘But will you, Samuel?  I don’t think you can give up so easily.  You have striven all these years to save your boy, and here he is right before you, within your reach.  I know you have some other strategy in mind.  You will try to end it here.  You will endeavour to save him.  I know it.’

‘So you will continue with your mad plan, Lomar—knowing the implications, knowing the beast that I will become?’

‘I will,’ Lomar replied with a wry smile.

‘Your scheme is quite impressive, yet you have missed something important.  You have not asked me the obvious,’ Samuel said, himself smiling contentedly.  ‘I have seen your eyes wandering and I know there is one question you have been itching to ask me.’

‘Oh?  You claim to know me better than myself?  How close we must be to know each other so well.  What is it then, the question even I don’t know I want to ask?’ Lomar said, happy to entertain the notion.

Samuel presented it graciously: ‘Why did I bring the body of Salu?’

Lomar looked at the old man lying flat upon the bed.  His brow furrowed, and at once they knew that Samuel was right—Lomar had been yearning to know all along.

‘It was obviously not to save him, for his spirit has already departed,’ Lomar stated factually.  ‘It is just a living corpse, with barely a handful of heartbeats remaining.  I can’t see what use he could be, except ...’  Slowly, realisation dawned upon him.  ‘I know!  You seek a new choice entirely, one unforeseen.  You seek to rid yourself of your demons, to lure them into Salu’s body and be rid of them!’

‘If I were about to die, an alternative vessel might seem very appealing to them, especially another magician’s of such merit,’ Samuel said.  ‘Such a thing is not so easy to come by, and I have been proving quite frustrating to my guests.  They could leap into Salu and begin their work straight away and not have me to worry about, always frustrating them and keeping them pent up like this.  Yes, I think my demons would be very appreciative of another host about now.  Then my companions here could easily kill the old man before he awoke and be rid of them—and I can continue on with my initial plan to free my son.

‘So you see, I did not bring my friends to trick them into any subservience, as you so naturally assume.  I brought them with me because of their abilities, and their humanity.  I could never have done any of this alone: demons or magic or determination or not.  Each one of these good people has saved me more times than I care to count, if not physically, then by granting me strength of will.  I have learned more from young Leopold since I met him than from any book ever written by any sage or magician that ever lived.  So tell me, Lomar, how will you stop me now?’

‘Destroying their vessel would not destroy them,’ Lomar corrected, as if Samuel’s assumption was childish.  ‘The Old Ones will go back to their plane and simply seek the next passage back.  Besides, they cannot be fooled into thinking you might die so easily.  They are demons, remember.  Death is their bread and butter.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Samuel revealed.  ‘I am prepared to die.  In the meantime, while all this goes on, my son will have returned.  My body will be dead of course, but I have crossed the Boundary before—once, in another life.  My spirit can linger, untouchable by the likes of you, while I await the return of my son.  With his assistance, we can swap places and the world can go on as it always has.  One day, perhaps someone else will see fit to replace me, but I cannot foresee so far and frankly do not care.’

‘Marrag Lin will not give in to your plans!  Even without such evil in you, he will attack you.  He has forgotten his human past!  He lusts after all power!’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel said knowingly.  ‘Perhaps not.  Perhaps if you provoke him he may become riled enough to lose his temper, but I will not allow that.  I have one thing, Lomar, that you never seem to have developed.  I lost it, but have found it again recently—I have faith in humanity and faith in my son.  And from that faith, I reforged my compassion, the greatest of all human emotions.  I believe Marrag will not be the beast you claim him to be, and I believe he will speak with me candidly and as the young gentleman he once was.  I will ask him to step aside, and I will inherit his duties.’

‘Magicians have no place for faith!  There is no room for such rot as compassion!  I cannot allow it!  The world must burn!’ Lomar declared, greatly agitated.

He stood abruptly, and the dwelling vanished from around them, leaving them in the open night air beneath the stars.  The chairs and fire and bedding all disappeared, leaving them falling and scrambling to be back on their feet.  Only Samuel defied gravity and simply rose to his feet.

The moon was slightly risen, its upper half forming a perfect sphere together with its lower half mirrored beneath it.  The illusion made it appear much too low, and being buried in the horizon, it looked absolutely huge.  As it continued to rise, it would elongate, stretching and warping until finally tearing itself away from its underlying twin.

‘Don’t do anything foolish!’ Samuel said, but Lomar had already begun.

His magic tore the air and flowing, burning beasts dropped through from other realms, slapping onto the glass, lighting the night with their presence, their blazing embers reflecting upon the black surface under their feet.  Other flapping creatures and creeping monstrosities burst into existence, skulking about in the dimness, while Lomar fled into the darkness.

Captain Orrell took a step after him, but Samuel stopped the man before he could draw his sword.  ‘Leave him.  I will take care of him.  You need to fend off these creatures until my son arrives.  Everything hinges on that moment.  I will protect you as much as I can, but I must be after Lomar.  Stand your ground for as long as you can.’

‘But, Samuel.  This is what he wants!’ Leopold reminded the magician.  ‘He wants you to fight him.’

‘Don’t worry, Leopold.  I must keep him busy to prevent him from harming you.  And he does not want to kill me, he wants to wear me out protecting you, so I will be overcome by what is inside me.  That is our true prize,’ he said, nodding towards Salu on the ground.  ‘Keep Salu safe.  Everything depends on that.  I will be back.’

And he followed after Lomar, disappearing into the night.

****

Ghoulish high-pitched laughter sounded, coming from the mouths of the burning hounds.  The beasts loped, circling the party, sniffing, drooling fire.  For now, they were content to stalk, circling them, searching for opportunity to come at their backs.

Noises of battle sounded in the distance, the booms of magic and flashes of light.  Lomar and Samuel could not be seen, but streaks of coloured lightning arced and spiralled in all directions, in the sky, along the ground, and between the two—ever mirrored upon the glass.  Magic sparked from many locations at once, as if the two magicians were in multiple places, battling from all around.

Daneel and Kali arranged Salu and Toby side by side in their middle, and prepared to defend themselves and the helpless bodies from attack.

With a guttural howl one beast charged, and it was Kali who strode out to meet it.  It leapt, and she stepped aside—not fast enough.  Its claws tore scraps from her clothing as it passed.  She sent her fist into its ribs, and with a yelp it fell to the ground, kicking and thrashing with its flames licking about it.

Leopold expected Kali to finish the fallen creature, but she skipped away out of its reach, cradling her fist, burned deeply.

‘Water!’ Leopold called.

‘We have nothing,’ Jessicah reminded him.

It was Captain Orrell who darted forward and shoved his sword into the skull of the creature as it attempted to rise, letting the beast howl and vomit fire.  He put his boot to its head to draw out his weapon, yelling with pain as the heat scolded his foot.  The weapon popped free, and he shook his smoking boot.  At least the beast was dead.  It moved no longer and its flames withered.  The others lingered out of reach, awaiting their turn to attack.

Jessicah squatted herself beside Salu, keeping her palm on his chest, as if to comfort him.

‘You can’t fight them bare-handed,’ Leopold told Kali as she returned to them, looking at the raw, blackened flesh along her knuckles.  ‘Take my knife.’  The short dagger had long stayed in his belt, part of his emperor’s attire.

‘I am not practised with such weapons, Leopold,’ she responded.  ‘This is how I fight.’

Rapid feet sounded and something dark galloped by.  A snaking tentacle whipped out as it passed, slapping towards the body of Toby.  It would have stolen him away if not for Leopold’s quick reactions.  He grabbed the boy by the leg and pulled him aside as the shadowy brute hurried by, grunting and panting.

‘Another one!’ Jessicah called, for a second fiery hound was approaching, and it was Daneel and Captain Orrell who stepped forward to meet this one.

It snapped and snarled just out of reach.  They waved their swords to keep it at bay, but behind them, another hound snuck in from the rear.

Kali leapt to their defence, spinning, meeting its head with the end of her foot.  There was a splash of sparks blown into the night, and Kali landed lightly, her shoe smouldering.  The creature dropped abruptly, its fires extinguished.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong,’ Kali said, puffing, back beside Leopold.  ‘I ... I feel so heavy.  My body will not carry me as I wish.’

A yelp sounded as Daneel cut a slice out of the other beast, and it turned tail and darted back to join the pack, bonfires in the darkness.

‘Perhaps, it is this place?’ Kali pondered, eyeing the glass landscape with concern.  ‘I—’

Her next word did not make it from her mouth, for something bound from the darkness, a blot of black fur, and snapped her up in its grip.  It fled, loping like an ape, one of its long furred arms wrapped around her throat.

Leopold was after it without thinking.  It was not quick, but it was shaking Kali wildly as it ran, as if to dash her to death against the hard ground—her legs slapping up and down as if bereft of joint and bone.

Leopold drew his dagger from his belt and leapt onto its back, stabbing wildly and screaming as he did.  The creature glared at him with wide, pained eyes.  It hooted loudly, and two more heads looked up from its fur, these two sopping wet with blood, for their teeth had been gnashing away at Kali all the while.

It was not a particularly hardy beast.  It untangled its arm from Kali as Leopold stabbed into its blood-matted fur, and it limped away, slipping on the bloodied glass as it went.  Leopold was too enraged to think clearly and sprinted after it, stabbing it in the back as it screeched, waving its arms to fend him off.

It fell and he continued knifing it, screaming as he did until the beast was lifeless and his voice tore in his throat.  Only Jessicah’s calls brought him back from the brink of madness.  Other things were lurking there in the darkness, just out of sight.

He hurried back to Kali—she was alive, but covered in blood and with chunks of flesh bitten out of her—and he picked her up and staggered back to the others, where Captain Orrell and Daneel were still fending off the fire hounds.

The only luck that came to them was the fire hounds running to the body of the ape-thing, and a fight broke out amongst them as they bickered over its remains, snapping at each other, filling the night with yelps and haunting growls.

‘Quickly!’ Leopold said, setting Kali down beside Salu and Toby.  ‘Do something!’

‘Gods, Leopold, she has been torn to pieces!’ Captain Orrell declared.  ‘Her legs are broken ... her ribs are crushed in.  She’s lost a lot of blood.’

Jessicah wept and had to look away, so savage were the wounds.  One side of Kali’s neck was torn away, tubes and vessels hanging out, pouring blood.

‘What can we do?’ Leopold asked, looking to them each in turn.

Captain Orrell regarded the fallen woman gravely.  ‘Nothing, Leopold.  The damage is grievous.  We have nothing to mend her.  Even if we did, this is beyond normal medical care.’

‘No,’ Leopold growled defiantly.  ‘She will not die.  I will not let him be proven right.  Not this time.’

Kali’s eyes rolled as she gasped and gurgled, fighting to speak.

‘Samuel may be her only hope,’ Jessicah said, looking to Leopold expectantly.  ‘Call him back.  Only he can save her.’

Leopold nodded.  He stood and called aloud into the darkness.  ‘Samuel!  Samuel, she’s dying!’  There was no reply.  The battle waged on in the distance.  ‘Damn you, Samuel, come help her before it’s too late!  She’ll only die if you let her!  Her fate lies with you, not your demons!’

Still, no answer.

Kali continued to cough and gasp, but her efforts soon languished.

‘Leopold!’ she spluttered, a desperate, longing call.  And that was all.  Her eyes were open, her warm blood spread all around her.  She lay still, looking up.

Leopold dropped beside her, gripping her slick fingers in his, squeezing her, unable to speak so tight was his throat with despair.  Tears of molten lead burned from his eyes.

‘She’s dead, Leopold,’ Daneel said calmly, stepping back to give him room.

Jessicah also turned away, sobbing.

Leopold shook his head in denial.  He grasped her face and shook it side to side.  ‘Kali!  Kali!’ he shouted.

‘She’s gone, Leopold,’ Captain Orrell told him, calming Leopold’s hand.  He gently closed her eyes with his palm.

‘No, no, she can’t be,’ Leopold said assuredly, sniffing.  He lifted her arm, stroking her skin to awaken her from her sleep.

‘She’s gone, Leopold,’ the captain repeated firmly.

Leopold released her.  Shivering with sadness and rage, he stood.  He drew his stained dagger again from his belt and squeezed it tightly, determinedly in his trembling, bloodied hand.

‘What are you doing, Leopold?’ Jessicah asked him.

Wordlessly, he stepped into the dark, towards the fires of the hell hounds, still playing with the meal of the nightmarish gibbon.

‘Leopold!’ Captain Orrell called from behind.  ‘Where are you going?  Stop this!  It is madness!’

The Emperor ignored their calls to return and strode through the darkness, his eyes locked onto the creatures, the dagger in his hand.

‘You cannot hurt them, Leopold!  Don’t throw away your life!’ Daneel pleaded at volume.

‘See how you like it without me, Magician,’ Leopold muttered.  ‘There will be no one left to aid you, Samuel—no one to help you save your son!’

The beasts turned their heads to face him as he neared, and deep growls issued from their throats, fire lapped from their jaws.  Muffled squeals of delight and anticipation shuddered from their throats.

‘If I can’t live without love, I don’t want to live at all.’  He stopped as the creatures left their kill and encircled him.  Strange animalistic laughter passed between them.  ‘Do you hear me, Samuel?’ he cried, raising his voice to the sky, and for a moment the creatures balked at his din.  ‘She’s dead!  I know you can feel it.  You were right!  She died.  But what good is life without love?  I will not have it!  The world can do its best without me.  I’ve had enough.  Lomar was right.’

‘Very well,’ sounded a grim voice.  It was Samuel, last Magician Lord, standing beside him.  The lightning in the sky continued to flicker and stream without him.  ‘I get your point, Leopold.  I have come.  What do you want?’

‘What good is winning without her, Samuel?’ he pleaded, still tearful.

The fire hounds were momentarily startled by the magician’s appearance, but now tiptoed closer, growling.

‘It is life, Leopold.  You knew this was coming.  I gave you ample forewarning.  You had time to prepare.  There is nothing I can do for her now.  She has crossed the Boundary.  She is dead.’

‘It’s not good enough!’ Leopold declared angrily, tears in his eyes.

‘It will have to do,’ the magician replied.

‘You told me you were close to being a god, Samuel, that the last obstacle for you to overcome was that between life and death.  Why can’t you send her back? ’

‘It’s not that simple, Leopold.’

The nearest of the beasts looked set to jump.  Samuel raised his palm and a ball of lightning erupted amidst the pack, setting them all to fitting, their flesh popping and splitting apart.  As the spell calmed, other shadowy creatures darted in and pulled the carcasses into the darkness, dragging the light of their burning bodies behind them.

‘You can heal—I’ve seen you.  And I’m sure you have her spirit.  You wouldn’t let that slip away from you.  You take anyone who dies in your presence.’

‘I do have it, Leopold; I need all the power I can get.  But healing a body and reincarnating it are two different things.  I have been learning all this time to release my spirit from my body, not put another into theirs.’

‘Is it really that different?’

The magician looked set to disagree, but a calm came over him, a sense of realisation.  ‘You’re right.  You’re right, Leopold.  It’s not.  But what you are asking is no simple thing.  To bring her back now would cost us dearly.  It will consume much of my strength, when that is exactly what I cannot afford to lose at this time.  Do you understand what that means, Leopold?’

‘I do, Samuel.  The demons will come.’

Samuel, Saviour of Cintar, nodded solemnly.  ‘Then so be it.  Let humanity decide its own fate.  Perhaps this is what it has been about all along.’

Leopold was surprised to find himself suddenly beside Kali.  The others were equally astounded to have Leopold and Samuel appear amongst them.

Leopold crouched down and held onto Kali’s hands, while the magician stood opposite him, eyes closed.  Something happened immediately; the wounds on her body began to right themselves, sealing and closing, the skin pressing together.

‘He’s healing her,’ Daneel declared.

When he was done, Kali looked as she had before—whole and unbroken, peaceful … resting.  But that was the easy part.  Samuel clenched his jaw.  Sweat poured down his face.  He dropped to his knees, groaning, fighting to release his power.  ‘Give me strength!’ he called aloud.

‘What Great Spell is this?’ boomed the voice of Lomar from the darkness.  ‘You have no time for such folly.  Why play into my hands?’

It was then that the shaking that possessed Samuel eased.  He climbed unsteadily back to his feet, panting, drenched with sweat.  ‘It is the greatest spell, Lomar,’ he called back.  ‘One you will never comprehend.  I have brought life from death.  I crossed the Boundary, I found her, and I brought her back with me.’

‘No,’ came the voice, echoing from all around.  ‘Impossible.  No one can bring back the dead!  Only gods may cross the Boundary, and you are not a god!  Not yet!’

‘When will you finally start to believe, Lomar?  Open your eyes and see for yourself.  She wanted to live.  I merely showed her the way.  Behold!  She returns!’

A tiny point of light coalesced in the air before Samuel, and it descended over Kali, disappearing into the dead girl’s open mouth.  Some vibrant energy then passed through them all, sending shivers up their spines and making the hairs on their arms stand on end.

A sudden crack split the glass beneath her with a sudden sharp snap, and Kali took a great gulp of air.  She opened her eyes in a panic, and she fought against them, with Daneel, Leopold and Captain Orrell working to keep her down before she hurt herself.

Samuel fell to his knees again at that same moment, and screamed aloud as if skewered through the chest.  Blue fire burst from beneath his skin, pouring from under his clothes and running over his face and hands, evaporating the sweat instantly.

‘Calm down!’ Captain Orrell told her.  ‘You’re safe, girl.  You’re alive.’

‘Listen to them, Kali,’ Jessicah called also.  ‘It’s all right.’

Slowly, she eased her struggling, and remained flat on the broken glass, panting to regain her breath.

‘Kali?’ Leopold asked her.  ‘Are you well?’

Her lips moved as if trialling the sensation, as if readying to form words she was not sure would come, then, ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I am well.  But ... what happened?  There were things in the darkness, then he came.’  She glanced at Samuel.  ‘He took my hand and led me here … beside the light.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ Jessicah told her.  ‘You were hurt, but now you are well.  That is enough.’

Kali sat up with their help, gaining her unsteady feet.  ‘I feel so strange.’

‘I’m sure it will pass,’ Jessicah said.

‘Leopold?’ she said, looking at the Emperor beside her.  ‘Were you calling me?  I’m sure I heard your voice.’

‘I was,’ he said, wishing to take hold of her, but she was stiff and aloof.

‘Oh,’ she said flatly.  ‘I thought so.’

Leopold longed to embrace her.  Resisting doing so burned his soul, but the woman was as emotionless as before, and he could not bring himself to do it.  She barely glanced at him since returning to life.  There was no love in her heart, and he would not force it upon her.

‘What of Samuel?’ Captain Orrell prompted.

They all looked towards the burning, struggling man, but Samuel seemed unable to speak, and waved off their efforts to assist him.  His lips were in constant motion, incanting some mantra under his breath.

‘You fool, Samuel!’ the voice of Lomar bellowed.  ‘You waste what power you have remaining.  Your defences have fallen.  Your plan is ruined!’

Samuel grunted, a stifled laugh.  ‘I granted your wish, Leopold.  The shadow has come and passed.  The darkness is gone.  You were right.’

‘What does he mean?’ Kali asked.

Leopold shook his head sullenly.  ‘It is nothing.’

Salu’s body, ignored during the excitement, flew away and landed amongst a group of beasts in the dimness.  They leapt upon it roaring and slavering, fighting over it.  Captain Orrell was quick to move, bounding out and wielding his sword like a whip of liquid lightning.

‘David!  Wait!’ Daneel called, chasing after him.

‘Stay here!’ Samuel shouted, straining, unable to move.

Kali looked set to run after them, but her legs were still unsure of what to do.  Leopold would not have let her go anyway if he had any choice in the matter.  She would not be much use until she fully recovered.

Two dark beasts leapt for the captain.  He sidestepped and cut the head from one and the other creature clean in two through the middle.  They had the bodies of lions, leathery black skin, and mouths far too large for their bodies—although their flesh was soft and easy to pierce, a smooth grey paste inside.

As Orrell arrived at the pack, one beast raised its head to consider him, Salu’s body hanging slack in its munching jaw.  One of the old man’s legs was dangling down to the ground, hanging by a sinew.

‘Put him down!’ Orrell demanded of it, not slowing as he came.  The creature munched on regardless.

It made no attempt to avoid him as his sword came down upon its head, cutting right through to Salu’s body.  It dropped dead without resistance, but those on either side of it, having casually observed the captain’s approach, took the opportunity to leap in upon him, knocking him to the ground with their body weight, sounding deep resounding roars of excitement.

‘David!’ Daneel called, swinging his sword, slicing off pieces of the beasts, hacking them apart.

In moments, the pack had fled, and Captain Orrell was left bloodied on the ground.  Old Salu was torn to pieces, a mess of minced flesh in rags littered across the ground.  There was not enough of him remaining to put back together.

Daneel wasted no time and grabbed the Captain’s arm, pulling him sliding back towards the group.  At least the glass made him easy to drag, and the man grimaced and groaned with the pain, leaving a slick trail of blood behind him.

Jessicah called shrilly and dropped down beside the captain as he returned.  ‘David!’

His torso was torn open and his eyes were full of surprise.  He coughed and thick blood came flooding from his mouth.

‘Samuel!  Do something!’ Leopold said.

The magician opened his eyes, for he had closed them in concentration, struggling as he was against the unholy, magical fire that threatened to consume him.  ‘Do I have to save you each one by one?  I can do nothing else until I calm my demons.  Do the best you can.’

Daneel was pressing his hands over the deepest wound.  Dark blood welled between his fingers.

‘The best we can is not good enough,’ Leopold declared.  ‘Look at him!  He’s dying!’

Samuel glanced down for just a moment to observe the injured man.  ‘Yes.  The shadow is coming.’

Captain Orrell laughed to hear it.  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said.  ‘I’m happy to go.  We did our best.’  He looked at Jessicah, leaning over him.  ‘It is only you I regret leaving, my dear Jessicah.  Our time together was short … but heavenly.’

She shook her head defiantly.  ‘No, David.  Stay with me.’

‘We have to staunch the flow!’ Daneel said.  He tore off his shirt and bare chested he stuffed the cloth upon the wounds, pressing firmly.  The white cloth, long stained brown from their adventures, bloomed ruby red as it sponged up the blood.

Leopold was beside him, pressing his hands on the deep punctures that were pouring blood.  The fluid was not spurting out now, simply pooling and flowing as his heart lost its vigour.

‘You have lost your precious vessel, Samuel,’ the voice of Lomar sounded from the dark.  ‘Without the body of Salu your plan is worthless.  What will you do now?’

‘Damn you, Lomar!’ Samuel returned ferociously, and there was anger twisted on his face.  ‘You did not have to do that.’

‘Oh, I did.  You brought the girl back from death, but for nothing.  You only wasted your power, for she and the others will die anyway.  You cannot revive them all.  Not even you have the strength for that.  One such crossing was too much for you.  Come, your son approaches and you must ready to face him.  I can feel your demons rising.  Perhaps they will lend you some of the strength you are lacking?  The timing is perfect.  They must be cackling in your ears even now.  Let them out to play, Samuel.  I’m sure they will enjoy themselves immensely.’

The boy they once called Toby, the vessel of Marrag Lin—Demon King—began fitting savagely once more.

‘What’s happening?’ Kali asked, her eyes wide, and she crawled to his aid, holding him down.

He bucked and thrashed on the glass.  Grunts and moans barked from his throat, while Kali tried to keep him from harm.  It lasted only moments.  Then, he gasped one final time and lay still.

The beasts in the darkness yelped and flashed from existence, dispelled back to wherever they had come.

‘He’s here!’ Samuel declared, in pain.

The moon was now almost free of the horizon, an hourglass with its doppelganger hanging from its bottom edge, reflected in the glass.  Something soft and cool slapped onto Leopold’s cheek, and he realised it was raining—rain from a clear desert sky.  The moisture fell as a gentle spray across them all, across the midnight landscape.

They looked up in wonder.  Even Captain Orrell, gasping in pain, did his best to raise his head.

The glass became slippery.  If they moved their feet and lost the tiny grains of sand from underneath it became treacherously difficult to remain upright.  The reflection of the stars on the surface shimmered in the wet.  The moon’s twin began to waver.

‘Where is it coming from?’ Leopold asked, but no one, least of all Samuel, had the mind to reply.

A sphere of energy appeared, too thin to be noticed at first, made of a pale light that gathered from the horizons.  It reduced in size, intensifying as it shrank, solidifying, until it was the size and shape of a young man.  He turned to his father with the gladness of one who unexpectedly meets a friend.  It was Marrag Lin, a young man—about the same age as Leopold—appearing as he had on that day long ago when he had become a god.

‘Darrig ... Father, I have returned.’

Samuel looked around.  Everyone was frozen.  The rain itself had become still, each droplet suspended in the air, tiny beads of clearest crystal.  The fire had vanished from his skin, and for the first time since he had last been in his casket, the demons were calm, their voices lulled to a barely audible whisper.  The pain left his body, and he stood tall.

‘Marrag, my son,’ he greeted the newcomer.

‘I have stopped the world for a short time, Father,’ responded the King of Demons.  ‘I know you wish to speak with me, and I feel much has changed.’

‘I would ask what you plan to do,’ Samuel stated.

The glowing figure looked to his father with infinite compassion.  ‘I will finish gathering my power and then return to my task, as I have so many times before.  There are many souls on this world to gather.  I will unleash my hordes to assist me and be done as quickly as I can.  The world must be protected.’

‘Much has happened in your absence, my son.’

‘It always does,’ Marrag Lin agreed.

‘This time, it is different.  Your minions are gone—Rei, Thann and Poltamir.  I have absorbed their strength and severed their bond to you.’

‘Ah,’ said the Demon King, not at all upset.

‘There has been a scheme.’

‘I know.’

‘So what will you do?’ the father asked.

‘All I can do—proceed as usual, consume as many souls as I need to, save as many lives as possible,’ replied the son.  ‘I will recruit other sentinels to leave behind—more helpers to assist in my absence.’  He passed his eyes calmly over Samuel’s party, each one of them stiff and unmoving.  ‘They seem sufficient.  Would they help me?’

‘You cannot go on with all this,’ Samuel told him.  ‘These endless deaths are demonic in themselves.  No matter what the reason, we must find another way.’

‘What alternative do you offer?’ Marrag asked with interest.

‘I have something in mind.  The end of magic.’

Marrag Lin paused, searching.  ‘I feel there are few magicians left upon the world.  The relics, too, are few and far between.  Have you been destroying them?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose that is good.  I tried to make the burden of magic as painless as possible.  I thought removing the greater emotions would make up for the grief of such responsibility.  How wrong I was, but I forged on regardless.  Tell me more of your plan, Father.  The spark of magic is within all people.  It cannot be contained.  You know that, most of all.’  He paused, intrigued.  ‘Ah, I see your idea, to hide amidst the darkness.  A worthy idea, but evil knows we are here whether we are illuminated by our magic or not.  The door is open and the Ancient Ones would return if it is left unguarded.  The task can never be abandoned, for the sake of this world and those upon it.’

‘Have faith in me, my son.  Although your wisdom spans countless eons, I have thought this well through.  Please believe me.’

The god nodded.  ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Step down.  I free you from your burden.  I will take the load from your shoulders from this point on.’

‘This is not a small thing that you ask, Father.  The weight of my role is smothering and the price is despair.  If you falter for even a moment, the world is lost forever.’

‘I know.’

‘Then if you are sure, I agree.  I will pass my legacy to you, and I will cease to exist.’

‘You can return to life,’ Samuel said, gesturing to the body of Toby, lying peacefully on the stones.  ‘I had another vessel prepared for you, but it was lost.’  He glanced towards the raw flesh of Salu.  ‘If you are quick, you can enter the child before the corpse is rendered useless.  There are only—’

Marrag Lin shook his head.  ‘I have lived my life.  I have no wish for another.  I will fade from existence gladly.  To return to the Pattern—that is all I have wanted for a very long time.’

‘But I have done all of this for you,’ Samuel declared, exasperated.

‘And assuming you are successful, it will be worthwhile, but I will not walk upon this earth again, no more than a grown man or woman would relish playing with the toys of children once they have grown.  My time has passed and I will cease to be.  Being freed of my task is enough, Father.  That is all I could hope for.’

Samuel nodded gravely.  ‘Then if that is what you wish, so be it.  You did a great thing and I am sure history will recount the great sacrifice you made.’

‘I do not want recognition, or even understanding, Father.  It was only penance for my sins I seek ... and forgiveness from you and Mother.  Besides, history has long since passed me by.  The world has changed.  All there is to judge me are the lives I leave behind.’

‘That is enough,’ Samuel told him, then his voice changed subtly in tone.  ‘I am ready.’

‘And what of the Old Ones within you, Father?  I sense many.  Granting them such power is courting danger.  It is exactly what they want.’

‘I will deal with them.’

Marrag Lin accepted the statement without doubt.  ‘Then come.  What was mine ... is yours.’

The weight of a hundred mountains fell upon his shoulders, and Samuel suddenly had the power of a god.  He could feel everyone and everything around the world and almost at once, he felt dark things probing at its edges, far beyond the boundary of the sky.  They grew excited as his defences waned, but he rallied, pushing with his power, his self—so vast that it surrounded the world—and the dark things pulled away to hover just beyond his reach.

More demons writhed inside him, pouring into him from the unseen gateway in his heart.  He had the power now to burn them away, but he did not.  Banishing them now would do nothing towards his goal.  He called to them instead and they filled him, jabbering with glee at being given such free rein into the world.

He opened his eyes to find the figure of light before him fading.  And for the first time since his thankless task had begun, Marrag Lin smiled.

‘Thank you, Father,’ he said.  ‘You have freed me.  My time is ended.  I am sorry for causing such grief.  Forgive me.’

‘I do forgive you,’ Samuel stated sincerely.

And Marrag Lin vanished.

****

The world began to turn once more and Samuel found that the others were staring at him, only an instant having passed for them.

‘You cannot do this!’ Lomar declared, running in from the dark, his robes flapping around him.

Samuel turned to him sedately.  ‘You are too late.  It is done already.’

Lomar laughed.  ‘You fool!  You have become the protector of this world, but you are full of demons—bursting at the seams with them!  They will overcome you.  They grow stronger by the moment.  How can you be so stupid?  You have condemned us all to damnation!  You are even worse than me!’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel said, and stepped closer to the taller magician and spoke candidly.  ‘Lomar, I need your power.’

On hearing that, the taller magician calmed.  He waited, shivering with anticipation as Samuel reached towards him.  He flinched on contact, but Lomar did not run, as the man who had inherited the responsibilities of a god laid his hands upon his shoulder and began to draw his life.

‘Yes!’ Lomar hissed.  ‘Finally.  It ends here.  Take me.  Take me before the demons come.’  He continued to laugh hysterically as his essence was dragged away.

But Samuel halted before absorbing the last shreds of his life, and Lomar stopped laughing, looking at Samuel with horror.  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded to know.  ‘Why have you stopped?’

‘I have your magic,’ Samuel replied.  ‘That is all I need.’

‘But I have more!  What about my life?—my flesh, my blood!  Take it all!’

‘You can keep them,’ Samuel said.

Lomar was mystified.  ‘But—but why?’

‘Despite what you say, Lomar, I am not a demon, and I will never give in to them again.  You are just a man, fallible as myself, as flawed as anyone.  I remember when I counted you as my closest friend, Lomar, and for that I want you to live.’

‘That was all lies!’ Lomar declared.  ‘I was using you!  Surely, you must realise that by now.’

‘I do,’ Samuel said.  ‘But I will always count you as my friend, no matter what you say.  I want you to live, Lomar.  I forgive you.’

The man was stupefied.  ‘You … forgive me?’ he said meekly.

‘You are free; free of Cang and Poltamir and everyone else who used you.  You now only answer to yourself.  I give you back your life.  Do with it what you will, but from now on, you have only yourself to blame for what results.  Find no fault in anyone else for whatever your fate may bring.’

‘My branches have all burned, Samuel,’ he said, hanging his head low, ‘but yours have grown and flowered into something beautiful and beyond belief.  What a sorry waste I have been.’

‘Nothing is wasted,’ Samuel told him.  ‘And you still have time to grow.’

The dark-skinned man opened his eyes in wonder as he imagined the possibilities.

‘It is time,’ Samuel said.  ‘My guests grow impatient.’

‘What will you do?’ Lomar asked.

‘I will finish what I started.’

He looked at the others, all waiting, observing events as Captain Orrell bled to death on the floor.

‘It is all right, Samuel,’ Leopold stated.  ‘If you need us, we will join you.  Take our strength.  It is little price to pay for saving everyone else.’

‘That is not necessary, young friend,’ the magician responded.  ‘I have another plan.’

‘Your skin!’ Kali said, pointing to him with an outstretched finger, for ghoulish mage-fire was once more dropping from him.

‘The demons are looking to escape,’ Samuel said.  ‘We must be quick.  Daneel, ready your sword.  I must hold myself here until my plan is done.  This body is falling apart under the strain of such power, but I must hold myself within it, so that I remain mortal.  To become a god now is to hand evil my soul on a platter.’

‘Kali,’ Jessicah said, calling the Koian warrior woman down beside her.  ‘Help me.’

Kali did as asked, placing her hands over the captain’s wounds, leaving Daneel free to do as instructed.

The one-eyed man drew his sword, the rain running down his face.  ‘And what would I do with it?’

‘You will use it as swords are meant—quick and strong.’  He pointed to his neck to demonstrate what he intended, and Daneel nodded in understanding.  ‘Just keep it ready,’ Samuel told him.  ‘I will call you when required.’

With that, he raised his arms sideways away from his body and summoned his magic.

‘What are you doing?’ Lomar asked, but Samuel was too busy to respond.

Far above, a bright light appeared amongst the stars.  It coursed westwards, a meandering shooting star, but it did not fade or burn away.  Another appeared beside it, following the first, then another far away.  As they watched on, the cloudless rain ceased falling, leaving the air filled with the smell of fresh precipitation.

‘What is it?’ Leopold asked.

‘The stars are moving!’ Daneel exclaimed.

‘Starfall?’ Lomar guessed at a whisper.  ‘No.  Something else ...’

‘I always wondered what the stars were,’ Samuel uttered, his eyes closed tightly.  ‘Now I know, and it is even more beautiful than I imagined.’

The lights continued to grow in number, ringing the sky with their fiery light.  More and more points appeared in the heavens, burning pure and white and bright, following each other, twisting and curling in succession, like snowflakes wandering the heights.  The sky was full of them, until the background stars were rendered invisible by comparison.  Then, the points began to join, pale scars like spider silk creeping out and interweaving between them all, forming an undulating lacework above their heads.

‘Can you not see it, Lomar?’ Samuel said, eyes still closed.  ‘This is my power—my self—and now it surrounds this world.  Everything within it is within my reach, to do with as I will.  This is what I have been waiting for—all the pieces I needed to put this, my greatest spell, together and venture where we have never gone before.’

‘What are you doing?’ Lomar asked with disbelief.

‘Come to me!’ Samuel demanded of his evil.  Blazing fire poured from his skin as the demons rallied.

The brilliant latticework of stars grew brighter.  Everyone shielded their eyes, then, reaching a crescendo, the creeping threads completed their work, the blinding lines joined together.

A brilliant flash.  Blackness.

The stars, the moon and the demon fire upon Samuel all vanished and the world was bereft of light.

****

At first, it seemed as if they had vanished from existence, but the wind still breathed in their ears, proving they were alive.

‘What has happened?’ Leopold asked, hearing his voice in the void.

‘Are we dead?’ asked another—Kali.

But then, as their eyes became used to the dark, the stars became visible once more high above.

‘We’re alive,’ Daneel whispered, easily audible in the silence.

They could see each other now, dimly in the starlight, as when they had first appeared upon the plain of glass.

‘The stars have changed,’ Kali declared, her chin pointed up as she browsed the heavens in wonder.  ‘I have never seen these constellations before.’

‘The moon has disappeared,’ Jessicah whispered.  It was true.  The great white orb and its reflection were both missing.

‘No, it is where we left it,’ Samuel said and they saw the magician drag himself to his feet.  The fire around him had also diminished to near darkness, burning faintly with its bluish hue.

‘Have you vanquished the demons?’ Jessicah asked, still kneeling over Captain Orrell.

‘No.  They are merely startled.  They don’t know where they are.  Like you, they whisper to each other—unsure, anxious.’

‘How did you change the stars?’ Kali asked in wonder, gazing at the heavens.  Her hands continued their pressure on the captain’s wounds.

‘The stars have not changed.  It is our world that has moved.’

‘What do you mean?’ she questioned, looking at the magician with puzzlement.

‘I have moved us, and the entire planet with us.  I have journeyed us far away from where we were.  I have thrown us an unimaginable distance.  We are now across the universe—hidden amongst the darkness where evil can never find us.  More importantly, the demons within me can never find their way back to their home.  I have broken the link to their realm—sealed it shut forever.’

‘How could it be?’ Lomar asked in awe.  ‘How could you move a world?’

‘I have used every mote of my power,’ Samuel said.  ‘It is all gone … the strength of a god.  There is no magic left in me.  Only this glass around us, once the body of a demon itself contains any shred of power, and that will quickly fade now the gate to its home is gone.’

‘But how—?’ Lomar began, before putting two and two together.  ‘But you still have the demons within you,’ Leopold said, looking at the blue fire dripping from the man—the only source of light apart from the stars, like a blue-tinted campfire in their midst.

‘Yes,’ Samuel confirmed with a nod.  ‘But their whispers have turned to screaming.  They are now the ones who are afraid.  They are trapped within me and they are alone.  They do not know where they are, and they cannot return to their home.  They have lost their doorway and have nowhere to retreat.  They are lost in the darkness and shall soon be vanquished.  But we must be quick.’

‘What do we do?’ Leopold asked.

‘You must kill me before they overwhelm me.  They have nowhere to escape.  In killing me, they will die also.  We have won … almost.  Unfortunately, all has not gone as I expected,’ Samuel admitted guiltily.  ‘Our victory is not complete.  We have one significant problem.’

‘What is it?’ Lomar asked with bewilderment.

‘There is no sun,’ Samuel revealed.  ‘We did not reach the destination I intended.  I was short of power by just a little.  I thought leaving the moon behind might make up for it—a great sacrifice in itself—but it was still not enough.’

‘Was it because—’ Leopold commenced, glancing towards Kali, but the magician ignored him, talking over him.

‘It does not matter why, Leopold.  It is done.’

‘Samuel,’ Lomar said, aghast.  ‘You sent us here with no idea of what would be awaiting us?  We are doomed!’

Samuel ignored the man’s ranting.  ‘Ready your sword, Daneel.  It is time.  You must be swift.  I have no more spells to protect me.  I am defenceless.  You can kill me easily enough.’

The night air had them shivering and the cold wind seemed to be growing stronger.  A savage grumbling sounded from afar and the ground shook.

‘What is that?’ Daneel asked, holding his weapon readied, but unsure.

‘What is happening?’ Kali also asked with alarm.

‘The world is in peril,’ Lomar replied.  ‘The change has been too much.  The earth will tear itself apart.  No sun!  No moon!  What have you done, Samuel?  You have saved no one!’

‘What can we do, Samuel?’ Jessicah asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said with an abject shake of his head.  ‘I—I have failed us.’

Vibrations ran through their feet.  Immense rumblings echoed across the land as it voiced its discontent.

‘But at least the demons shall not have you,’ Samuel continued.  ‘That is a victory in itself, and countless other worlds will be saved, never to be consumed by the demons we now destroy.  I am sorry ... to all of you.  I failed.  You will not last much longer than I, but at least your souls shall be free.  Your spirits will return safely to the Pattern, as they should.  Daneel ... it is time.’

Daneel shifted his weight, preparing to strike, but Jessicah’s voice caused him to halt his nervous hand.

‘All is not lost, dear cousin,’ she said, with a rising hope.  ‘I know what to do.  I can save us.’

‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked, labouring to speak as the fire grew steadily upon him.

‘I can save us,’ she repeated with excitement, still kneeling beside her loved one.  ‘I have had this power inside of me all my life, but I never had the courage to face it.  Now I know, and Rei opened my eyes to it.  I can save us!  I can do it!’

‘How can that be?’ Samuel asked.

‘Why ask such things, silly man?’ she said with a smile.  ‘I can feel it inside me, as if this was what I was always intended to do.  There is a light inside of me, and Rei unwittingly helped me to discover.  It is a warmth, an energy, that sings with the strength of our world.’

‘It is not possible,’ the magician stammered.

‘Come, Samuel.  I know you felt it.  It has been in me all along, but you would not admit it.  You always wanted me to be your loving cousin, not some heartless witch full of magic, but it is not the kind of magic you expected.  It is not the magic forged by man, or granted by demons ... it is something else entirely: a gift.  I want this.  I need it, Samuel, to save us all.’

‘I—I,’ he faltered.  There was no point in arguing.  ‘You were always my goddess,’ he said, struggling to form a smile.  ‘How ironic that it should turn out to be true.  It seems to be providence or coincidence or destiny, but the world saw fit to place her faith in you, Jessicah.  How could it be?’

‘I have no idea,’ she said simply, still smiling, ‘but I am very glad for it.  The warmth inside of me has given me comfort all my life.  I always felt sad for you, dear Samuel.  I could feel the loneliness and darkness inside of you that I could not banish despite my best intentions.  I did not know how ... until now.  Now I know how to return the light.  My own voice inside me tells me the way.’

Samuel tried to laugh, and choked upon it as it rose in his throat.  ‘Salvation ...’ he gasped, then his joy turned to misery.  ‘But why did it have to be you?’

‘It has always been me.  I can feel my purpose at hand and I can barely contain myself.  It is bubbling to the surface, as if this was always meant to be.’

‘But ... we need a sun!’ Samuel declared.  ‘The cost is too great.  It would cost you your life.’

‘I do not think I will die, Samuel.  I will change into something else; something wonderful and beautiful, ever looking down upon the world.  That is not death.  It is the birth of a new life.  I give myself willingly for such a fate.  Most of all, it is the only way to save him.’

All eyes turned to Captain Orrell, lying before her.

‘You cannot save him, Jessicah.  I can see the shadow enfolded around him.  Death will take him, and then only crossing the Boundary can bring him back—but I no longer have the strength for that.  Do you?’ he asked her, amazed as he considered the possibility.

‘Oh, Samuel,’ Jessicah returned, as if correcting a child.  ‘Have you not realised yet?  Our destinies are never set in stone.  Do not let your demons dictate what should happen.  Let me show you.’

She hugged her captain tightly to her, letting Leopold and Kali remove their bloodied hands.

‘Wh—what is happening?’ he asked, choking, unsure of his surroundings.

‘I need to ask you something, David ... my love.  I must go away and I want you to come with me.’

‘Where will we go?’ he asked distantly, straining to see her through his fading vision.

‘Not far, but we will go together.  To save everyone ... to save the world.’

‘Of course ... I would do anything,’ he stated wearily, ‘just to be with you, beautiful Jessicah.’

Weeping tears of joy, she looked back to her cousin.  ‘Samuel, I can’t thank you enough for loving me.  You can’t know how much it meant to me.  All the while the witch possessed me, I felt your faith.’

The pained magician shook his head.  ‘I should say the same to you.’

‘And I shall take this vile presence with me,’ she said, looking at the glass around them.  ‘Its power is fading as you said, but the earth has long abhorred this scar of evil upon her skin.’

‘You must be quick,’ Samuel told her, shivering.

‘Then goodbye, everyone,’ she said.  ‘Remember us.’

A halo of white light appeared around her, so that Leopold, Kali and Daneel had to step away.  It was perfectly silent, utterly intense so they were forced to shield their eyes.  Visible in its core, two shadows were standing, their hands joined; then, the two became one as they embraced.

‘The darkness,’ Samuel gasped with awe, staring towards the captain, ‘burned away by the light!’

But Jessicah did not hear him or else paid him no heed.

‘What do we do?’ the voice of Captain Orrell could be heard asking, now strong and free of pain, free of doubt.

‘Hold on to me,’ the voice of Jessicah replied.

‘Will it help us get there?’

‘No,’ she said.  ‘It will make me feel wonderful.’

Deep in that intense brightness, the two silhouettes pushed tighter together.  The light pushed in around them, tearing at their edges until the two lovers were gone.  Then, the blinding ball diminished, fading away until nothing remained.  Jessicah and David were gone.

The desert of glass shuddered and rumbled, fading into ordinary grey stone.  The stars reflected upon the earth disappeared.

‘They’ve gone,’ Lomar said.  ‘It is done.’

The scene was much darker after witnessing that blazing light, and they waited in the cold silence, with only Samuel’s laboured groans to break the silence.

Slowly, the mage-fire on his skin returned to illuminate the scene.  The earth continued to rumble and shift.  They saw the first of the fractures, running across the single great plate of stone that surrounded them with an ear piercing crack.  Stone shifted, and more cracks ran like forks of lightning in every direction.

‘What’s happening?’ Daneel asked.

‘It’s getting worse,’ Kali said with alarm

‘But where is the sun?’ Leopold asked.  ‘Surely something should have happened by now?’

Lomar said, ‘They would arrive at their destination in only a heartbeat, but where is their light?’

The ground continued to rupture and in the distance, a great wedge of stone scraped its way into the air, shunted skywards by the forces at play.

They struggled to remain on their feet as great chunks of stone broke free and were pressed into the air at angles.  Time passed and the earth heaved and shook.  Chunks of stone broke free and worked their way upwards, forming columns and plateaus across the plain.  Other pieces the size of houses dropped away.  All the water, previously sitting flat upon the glass, now ran and washed about, forming rivers and waterfalls, filling the newly formed cracks and crevices, dropping into the chasms.  Still, no sun appeared.

‘She has failed,’ Samuel said, lost.  They were high upon a wobbling spire of stone, looking out over the rest of the plain.  ‘I can no longer feel her ... and there is no star to light us.  Where have they gone?  It is over.  I have failed us all.’

He began to sob, and the mage-fire poured from him in great rivers, glowing inside him, illuminating his bones and growing brighter as the demons readied to burst free.

‘I miscalculated,’ he wept, still on his knees.  ‘I’m sorry, Leopold.  You have made your father proud.  He is within me, and I know it to be true.  He tried to warn me of my pride, but I did not listen.  I thought I could save my son and the world, too.  I thought I could save everyone.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Samuel,’ Leopold said.  ‘You gave her back to me.’  He looked at Kali, puzzlement on her face.  ‘That is all I could ask for.’

‘I am sorry, Your Majesty.  I thought I had done everything as I should.  I hope you can forgive me.  You would have made a good emperor.  I am proud of you, too, Leopold.’  He screamed with pain and the sound echoed back from the stone canyons and walls now built around them.  ‘Daneel!  Quickly!  The time is now!’

Daneel hesitated, and the fire around the magician flared, engulfing him in a violent blue inferno, sheathed in purple tendrils of fire.

The one-eyed man stepped as close as he dare, turning his face from the searing fire that was Samuel, and thrust his blade deep into the magician’s heart.  His job done he stepped back, leaving his sword embedded in Samuel’s chest, the fire too hot to retrieve it.

Samuel did not die, but his expression went vacant as he glanced about, searching.  He staggered unsteadily on his feet.  ‘What is this darkness all around me?’ he asked of no one.  He looked to one side, addressing the vacant space.  ‘I am here, my darling.’  His eyes were burning holes of light, spilling molten fire.  ‘I did it, my love.  I saved him.  We will be together soon ... at last.  So many lives I have lived, so many names I have had, so many loved ones I have left behind each time.  I remember them now—every one of them.  I remember you, with all your faces, all your voices, reborn and loving me without end.  I have lived too long, my dear.  Come closer, come, whisper it into my ear.  I have longed to hear you say my name for so many years, as you once did in our youth.’  He paused, as if listening, then smiled.  ‘Ah ... that’s better.  So long have I waited to hear that.  And I love you, too, my dear—’

It was then that he halted, for his mind was overwhelmed by countless, gibbering demons.

The fire continue to blaze, but he was not yet dead, and it was Kali who stepped in, braving the fire to withdraw Daneel’s sword, then with one sharp chop she decapitated the magician, sending his head flying out into the darkness.

The fire around his body blazed in gusts.  A fulgent core combusted inside of him, shining from his neck, like glowing coals beneath the ashes of a fire, and it seethed and threatened to ignite through his skin.  Slowly, the fire died and went black.

As the wind blew over him, it began to carry him away, merely blackened cinders in scorched robes.  Shortly, there was nothing left but the last clump of ash within his fluttering cloak, and then the wind carried that away too, leaving nothing of the magician behind.

‘At last,’ Lomar stated.  ‘The demons are dead.  We are saved from them, for what it’s worth.’

‘What do we do now?’ Leopold asked, staring at the spot where Samuel had been.

‘Wait for death,’ Lomar said.  ‘It should not be long.’

‘But at least our souls have been preserved,’ Daneel said.  ‘I would rather die of cold or be crushed by these stones than devoured by fiends and tormented for all time.  This is not a loss.  It is still a victory, although perhaps not the one we would have expected.’

‘Then you will get that wish,’ Lomar told him.  ‘It should not take long to die.’

They waited, nothing to do as the wind grew wilder and colder and the ground continued to shake.  Deafening booms continued to shatter the air, and their vantage point shifted violently, tilting and threatening to tip them off.

Kali spotted it first.  Far above them, a tiny point of brightness amongst the stars, and the others followed her excited call.

‘Look there!’ she cried.

The point grew, and Leopold searched for others, for it appeared another great Journey Spell was forming to take them home—but it was not to be so.  The tiny light was alone amongst the other stars, but it grew brighter, larger with each passing moment.  Its yellow hue became evident, and as it grew it banished the other stars from around it with its vigour, until they were forced to avert their eyes, such was its strength.

‘It is the sun!’ Kali gasped.

It was only a tiny ball, but it was the start of a light to keep them warm for all ages.

‘She did it,’ Lomar remarked with wonder.

The star expanded, until it blazed above them, blanketing them in its warmth.

‘They did it.  They have returned the sun!’ Daneel cried with wonder.

‘A new sun,’ Lomar corrected him.

It blazed brighter until the plain of broken grey stone was clearly visibly.  A blue sky spread from around the sun, pushing out towards the horizons and obscuring the stars as it went until broad daylight surrounded them.

The rumblings settled and the wind calmed as the warmth pervaded the stones.

‘Look,’ Daneel said, for cresting the sky to the east was a silver disc.  ‘The moon.’

‘Not our moon,’ Lomar stated.  ‘Also a new one.’  They could see he was right, for its surface was clean, devoid of familiar scars.  ‘She made it and she has calmed the unsettled earth.  She has saved us ... but I don’t know how.’

‘Jessicah,’ Leopold heard himself whisper.

Something warm was in his palm.  Looking down he spied Kali’s hand in his.  Somehow, in the dark she had found him and there they remained, side by side.  She noticed him looking at her and she smiled, squeezing him, not letting go.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.

She smiled at him reassuringly and spoke.  Surprisingly, her words were a string of unintelligible noises.  Leopold was startled.  The voice he heard was hers, but the language incomprehensible.  Then he realised it did not matter.  Being with her was all he cared about.  He smiled and squeezed her hand in return.

‘What did she say?’ Daneel asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Leopold replied.

‘She said she is fine,’ Lomar informed them, being the only one knowing the Old Tongue, ‘but she recommends getting away from here.  I agree with her.  These stones are unstable, and this is a desert after all.  It is a long way to find food and shelter.  Luckily, I know the way.’

‘Ah,’ said Leopold, ‘that is good.  What shall we do?’ he asked of Daneel.

‘Start walking,’ the one-eyed man replied, bereft of his shirt.  His cape was lost long ago, somewhere during the confusion.

‘How far is it?’

‘A long, long way,’ Lomar responded.  ‘A least we have water,’ he said, glancing at the tiny waterfalls that ran from the sides of the shattered rocks.  I recommend you drink your fill before we leave.’

‘West is it?’ Daneel asked, and he stood tall and looked in that direction, plotting their route in his mind.  He flipped up his eye patch and peered into the distance.

Kali yelped with surprise, and Leopold mirrored her sentiment.  ‘Your eye!  It’s healed,’ he declared with wonder.

‘Perhaps,’ the man replied mysteriously.  ‘You said it yourself, young Emperor, that everyone but you had some surprise in store.  But I disagree.  You shall grant your people one of the greatest surprises of all time: returning triumphant after freeing them from the demons.  I hazard to guess a song or two will be written about you.  You infernal Turians will never let the rest of the world live this down.’

Leopold gathered a response, but left it unsaid.  ‘Will we make it?’ he asked instead.

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Daneel announced and he started away, hopping down to the nearest column of stone and starting his way between the dislodged chunks of land.

‘I can’t feel anything,’  Lomar muttered.  ‘The magic is gone.  Or—perhaps it isn’t.  I’m not sure.  I don’t know if I would know either way.’  He looked at his withered, old hands.  ‘It’s certainly gone from me.’

‘Kali,’ Leopold spoke, and the young woman smiled in response.  He had no idea how long it would take to learn her language, or for her to learn his.  In truth, he did not care.  He would do so eventually, one way or another in his own time, and he already knew the most important word in the world.  ‘Kali,’ he repeated, feeling its rhythm upon his tongue.  ‘We’d better make a start.’

‘Shar mien,’ she said in agreement, and they followed after Daneel, hand in hand.

Lomar stood alone in his torn black robes, watching them depart.

‘Why?’ he asked himself, shaking his sorry head, surveying the shattered plain.  ‘Why did this all happen?  It seems ... it seems beyond belief.  Why are we made to suffer such existence?  Why do the gods thrust such trials upon us?’

The sound of someone stirring behind him had Lomar whirling around, and there, standing, was the boy they had once called Toby—a small boy, no higher than his knee.  He did not laugh or fidget as before.  He observed Lomar indifferently, then looked around at his surroundings and sniffed the air.

Lomar stared at the boy in return, speechless with surprise.

‘Who ever said it was supposed to be easy?’ the boy spoke, the voice of a child speaking with a man’s intonation.  He strode past the gape-mouthed ex-magician and clambered down the rocks after the others.  ‘Why are we here at all?’ he called over his shoulder, leaving Lomar behind, ‘if not to treasure such experiences?  The good comes with the bad.  What else is life for, my friend, if not to learn, to love, to wonder, to hope?  And of course my favourite, the most important reason of all, as I’ve been saying all along.’

‘What’s that?’ Lomar called, craning his neck to follow the child’s progress, desperate to hear the answer.  ‘What reason?’

The boy called back one last time over his shoulder.

‘To be.’