She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (22 page)

‘What’s that?  They haven’t told you?  Well, I can understand why.  It would do no good to risk spoiling
it for
you, or letting you get a big head about it.  Your
O
utlander modesty is part of your charm.’  Samuel did not know where to look, for he was altogether embarrassed by Sir Ferse’s
volley
of compliments.  He was already regretting his decision to speak to the man
when
Sir Ferse stepped closer and lowered his voice so as not to be overheard.  ‘You know, I heard something very interesting about you, Samuel—something I think only you can confirm for me.  They say that when the Emperor died, someone was holding the Elder Staff.  Some say it
is
quite uncanny how those dreadful Gartens managed to sidestep the Emperor’s magical shielding just at that critical moment, when he had been unassailable time and time again before that.  Some people say it was you, holding the
S
taff, Samuel.  Imagine that.  Why would they say such a thing?’

Samuel stepped back and felt the colour drain from his face.  ‘I...I...well—’ he muttered, not knowing what to say.

‘I’m sure it’s only speculation, my dear young friend,’ said Sir Ferse
,
with a dismissive wave of his hand, ‘and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions based on speculation now, should we?  Even so, it would be interesting to know the truth of the matter, wouldn’t it—to be a fly on the wall of the palace that day?’

Just then, Master Celios turned from his conversation with Grand Master Tudor and came scampering over with alarm at the sight of Samuel and Sir Ferse conversing. 

‘For goodness
’
sake, Sir Ferse.  How many times must I tell you not to bother anyone?  Every word you speak is pain to my ears!  Come away from poor Samuel,’ and with that Celios dragged the protesting Sir Ferse away by the arm.

‘Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, arriving at his side just as the other two peeled away.  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  What’s wrong?’

Samuel, in turn, took Goodfellow’s arm and led his friend away from the small clearing to the base of the trunk of the nearest great pine that grew
a few
yards away.  ‘Sir Ferse,’ he began.  ‘He knows about me.’

Goodfellow was confused.  ‘He knows what?  What do you mean?’

Samuel looked about for any eavesdroppers, but the Koians were already in their tents and the soldiers were engaged in their duties.  ‘He knows I killed the Emperor.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Samuel.  You didn’t kill the Emperor.  The Gartens did.’  Then he lowered his voice to a whisper.  ‘Perhaps he knows that we had planned to kill him?  Some of the old Masters could have talked.  Grand Master Anthem was afraid of that.’

‘No.  I
did
kill the Emperor.’  But Goodfellow only looked perplexed.  ‘I haven’t told a single soul about it, so everyone thinks the Gartens were responsible.  You weren’t there, but I actually got my hands on the Staff of Elders.  I used it to remove the Emperor’s defences.  If it w
ere
n’t for me, the Emperor would still be alive now.  No one knows except Grand Master Anthem and even he has never mentioned the fact since that day.’

Goodfellow took a moment to digest what he had heard.  ‘But, I thought the Gartens killed the Emperor?’

‘I know, you dimwit, but only because of me!’

Samuel immediately regretted raising his voice to his friend and took a moment to calm himself.

‘Very well.  I believe you.  So how does Sir Ferse know about it?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘I don’t know.  Perhaps he didn’t, but
from
the way I reacted, I’m sure he knows now, for certain.’

‘Do you think he will tell anyone?  I mean, he is a Turian, isn’t he?  So he wouldn’t be very pleased about you killing the Emperor.’

Samuel shook his head.  ‘I don’t know.  I guess we have to wait and see.’

Ghostly scenes haunted Samuel’s dreams that night as he tossed and turned under his blankets.  He saw two cloaked figures, barely more than shadows dancing on the landscape, as they hopped madly amongst an ocean of foes.  Dark faces leered and screamed, and they followed the elusive pair with a thousand swords.  But no matter how many of the wild desert-men came after the pair, the two seemed untouchable and flew about like rags upon the wind, cutting their way into the north.

The vision faded and he saw a figure waiting for him, sitting on a padded chair.  It was a woman and she looked up, as if noticing Samuel watching her through the dream.  Her face was elusive and seemed to change with the moment.  At first
,
it was an unknown woman, beautiful in every way.  He knew he should know her, but for some reason he could not recall her name.  Worry was on her face.  She looked closely at Samuel and
,
as her skin darkened
,
she became sultrier and more seductive, with a knowing smile upon her lips.  Her features slid
away
and she was now Empress Lillith, smiling contentedly at the
boy
in her arms.  Her hair fell into golden tresses and she laughed brightly as her features shifted again.  Although the woman at first seemed a stranger, he knew it was Jessicah. 

He had not seen his cousin since they were both barely into their teens, but he knew from her laugh alone that this woman was Jessicah, grown into her prime.  Just thinking about her reassured him and took him away from other dark thoughts, for she was his bastion of self
—
the only thing he had not lost in his sorry life.  He had not seen her for many years, but in his dream he realised he had perhaps avoided her purposefully; keeping her at arm’s length so she would not be lost like the rest of his loved ones. 
J
ust knowing she existed was enough.

She held her arms wide and beckoned for him to come to her, and she had
transformed into
Leila.

‘
At last,
’ she said to him, ‘
you’ve come.  It’s been so long since we’ve been together.  Your dreams have been too busy for me.
’

She gave him that warm and loving look that only she could give him, but he could not reply.  Something else was tugging at the edge of his dream, keeping him from forming his thoughts.  He tried to hang onto
Leila’s
presence, but she faded away along with the chair and the room and only a voice called through the darkness.

‘
Father!
’ it called.  It was a boy’s voice.  Samuel had not heard it in many months, but the calling was never far away; always ready to torment him.  ‘
I’m sorry you died.  I would put things back the way they were if I could, but everything has changed.  Why do things have to change so much?
’  He could never tell if it was his own voice pleading in his head or that of another, but he only wished it would leave him alone.  His own father and mother had been killed when he was only a boy, and he missed them more than he could bear, even after all these years.  He wished that he could put those feelings behind him, and perhaps the voice would leave his dreams.

He awoke and found himself tangled in his blankets
,
hot and sweating.  It was still the dead of night and the tent was dark.  A night bird called from the woods and he heard someone coughing from another tent across the campsite.  Kicking off his stifling blankets, he rolled over and hoped his sleep would take him quickly and deeply.

It must have been the middle of the night when a ruckus outside the tent awoke him.  He dragged on his boots and stumbled out into the night air to see what was causing all the commotion. 

The clearing was still dotted with numerous campfires, but it appeared that Orrell’s entire company was rushing about, in and out of the woods and in every direction.  Goodfellow came out of the tent after Samuel, sleepily adjusting his spectacles into place.

‘Samuel,’ Celios called.  ‘Come over!’ and with that the two magicians joined the others beside their fire.

‘The Koians have lost their god,’ Grand Master Tudor explained.  ‘And they’re in quite a fluster.’

‘Lost what?’ Samuel asked.  ‘That ridiculous woman?’

‘Yes,’ Tudor continued.  ‘It seems her attendants took her into the trees for her to relieve herself and the next thing they knew, she’d disappeared.’

‘So their gods need the privy, too?’ Eric put in.  ‘That’s good to know.’

But Celios threw him a blazing glance, and all
trace
of amusement fled from Eric’s face.  Samuel would normally have found the remark amusing, but he was too tired and was not willing to give Eric the satisfaction of a supportive response.

‘Orrell’s men are all out looking for her,’ Tudor continued, looking somewhat dishevelled in the firelight, ‘but we should do our best to help.  As you know, she shares Samuel’s lack of
presence
, so we have no way to find her magically.  We can only help them the old-fashioned way, by walking around and shouting a bit.  Perhaps make them a few lights.  She can’t have gone far, so let’s just help the Koians with this so we can go back to bed.’

‘Is this really necessary?’ Samuel groaned.

‘Yes.’

‘Where is Sir Ferse?’ Samuel then asked, noticing the obvious absence of the man from their group.

‘He’s still sleeping,’ Master Celios replied very matter-of-factly.  ‘I tried waking him, but he sleeps like a log.  Leave him be.  I’m sure we can deal with this.’

‘Go on,’ Tudor finished and gestured out into the darkness.  ‘It’s safe.  Not even the wolves are awake at this hour.’

Samuel shrugged and did as he was told.  They all stepped away into the trees in different directions and began calling out.  Without having a name to call, no one knew what to shout, so they cried out ‘
hello’
and ‘
over here’
and the likes.  It was worse for Orrell’s men, for they could not even speak the Old Tongue.  Anything they would shout would be incomprehensible to her; but Samuel figured it would not make much difference.  She would only have to hear their noises to find them and that was all that was required.  How she could have become so lost,
when she was
so close to such a large number of men, was beyond him.

He could feel the two Erics summoning some mage-lights, so he decided it could not hurt to attempt the same.  As he walked amongst the dark trees, atop the thick carpet of fallen pine needles and scattered cones that littered the ground, he slipped the Argum Stone onto his finger and readied himself.  He thought he had tapped only the tiniest trickle of power but
,
as he released the spell, a host of glowing spheres shattered the darkness with their blazing light.  The woods bloomed into an eerie
,
flickering daylight, and dozens of Orrell’s guards were frozen on the spot, looking at the lights with alarm.

‘Sorry!’ he called out to them, realising his spell must have half-blinded the men and he pulled the ring from his finger to extinguish the spell.  He was only channelling a small amount of magic from the ring, so he had thought nothing of taking it off, but the sudden release of energy that snapped through him stung him and made him start.  He reminded himself not to be so flippant in future, for his connection with the ring had to be reduced as much as possible before it could be removed.  The separation from any amount of power could be traumatising.

He would have to do without his spells but
,
with such a bright moon
,
he would not have too much trouble finding his way.  Wandering further into the deepening woods
,
he began calling out for the woman, calling
‘god lady’, ‘old woman’
and
‘vile old wench’
in as pleasant a tone as he could muster.  He did not bother using the Old Tongue, as he did not really care if he found her or not.  His thoughts were firmly set on his tent and blanket, and he assumed he would just have to wander around for a bit until one of Orrell’s men stumbled across her.