She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (56 page)

It bound
ed
toward him and Samuel speared one sword into its eye at the last instant, rolling aside to be out of its path.  The thing squirmed and kicked its front legs as it tried to scratch out the deep sword.  Samuel darted around and deftly buried the second weapon in its other eye, right up to the hilt.  The lizard thrashed and threw Samuel aside with a flick of its head. 

He damned himself for being caught, for the blow was solid and left him breathless on the sand.  The remaining warrior took his opportunity and came rushing over with his weapon raised high.  He brought it down, burying his axe head into the sand as Samuel evaded
the blow
.  The man was still struggling to recover his weapon as Samuel rolled and regained his feet, and this seemed too much for the axeman.  He took one look at Samuel
standing
before him and gave up, dropping his weapon and fleeing.  Samuel considered chasing him, but the masked fighter was no threat and made to the nearest door, thumping on it desperately with his fists.

It seemed as if the doors were going to open and let the man escape, but a long spear darted out from between the slats and punctured his body three times in rapid succession.  The axeman dropped back, dead.

The crowd was roaring with appreciation by this stage and
,
although the lizard was not dead, it was incapacitated and continued writhing in pain as it scratched at its eyes with its forelimbs.  A team of sandalled spear-men came trotting out of one of the doors and began stabbing the thing from all sides, while it thrashed in agony.

Samuel sat on his haunches to regain his breath while one well-muscled man, dressed in flowing
,
white desert robes, came over to him and gestured with his finger to follow. 

Samuel struggled back to his feet, for he felt utterly drained, and followed the man.  There did not seem to be any choice. 

Thankfully, they did not
make the
trek back the same way to the dungeons, but instead
went
up some stairs to a windowed room where a bath had been prepared.  A table next to the window was covered in breads and fruits and meats, and Samuel’s stomach almost had a fit at the sight.

‘Alahativa will meet you soon,’ his guide announced.  ‘Wash and prepare.  Enjoy some food.  Be thankful that you have been deemed worthy of embracing her presence.’

‘You speak Turian?’ Samuel asked, for hearing one of the men speaking in his own language was certainly surprising.

‘I have spent some time in the west,’ he explained.  ‘But I have not spoken Turian aloud for some time, so please excuse me if I make some mistakes.  It is not intentional and I do not intend to offend you.  I know the language and the ways of your people and
,
for this reason
,
I have been asked to serve you.  I am Utik’cah, humble servant of our Queen.  She has asked me to provide for you as best I can, and what Alahativa asks of me, I do.  Now, I will leave you for a time to rest.’  And with a solemn nod he backed out the door and left Samuel to his food and bath.

Champing enthusiastically upon his meal, but careful not to overload his shrivelled belly, Samuel peered out the window.  He was several storeys above a courtyard, overlooking the palace grounds, with the city of Hol spread out below.  Without his magic, it was much too high to risk jumping and he leaned out the window to see if there were any ledges or railing that he could shimmy along if required.  Disappointed, he resigned himself to enjoying his food and newfound freedom and he pulled off the rags that now seemed part of his body and sank into his steaming bath. 

He scrubbed at his skin until it was almost raw, for the blotches and grime that he found were stubborn to remove, and he washed his scalp until his hair felt as clean as he could make it.  A razor left nearby allowed him to trim the stubble that had appeared on his chin and he wondered how long he had been a captive, for his beard was notorious
ly
slow-growing, as with all magicians, yet he had the beginnings of a hairy face well under way.

It was well into evening before Samuel was called for, and the same man, Utik’cah, summoned him to meet the Queen.  Samuel had done his best to dress in the thin white clothes left for him, although Utik’cah shook his head at the results and pulled the cloth into various positions until he was happy that Samuel was fit to
be
present
ed
. 

The Queen was seated at the end of a long
,
columned hall, hung with bright and glittering cloths.  Male and female attendants lounged on either side,
and
a row of muscled guards st
ood
fiercely behind them with their arms folded above their curved swords.  There were no wizards to be seen, but Samuel could feel spells at hand, ready to leap into play.

The Queen was waiting upon a raised platform
that had several
steps leading up to it.  She sat reclined on a long cane chair,
which was
covered with cushions and
,
with the casualness of a cat watching a mouse come scampering across the floor, she watched him approach.  Samuel was given an enormous pillow on which to sit and did so
,
cross-legged.  He waited for the Queen to address him, while Utik’cah
stood
attentively to the side.  The Queen turned to observe Samuel and, as she looked down on him, he knew at once that everything he had heard about her was true. 

She was utterly beautiful, golden of skin, with her long
,
dark hair combed carefully back, braided and adorned with a jewelled hairpiece that was magnificent, yet subtle enough not to distract attention from her face.  She was dressed in several layers of pale
garments
,
greens and yellows, but it was immediately apparent that the look was crafted to give the onlooker a clear view of her figure, outlined like a shadow beneath the fabric.  It was entirely unlike any dress that a
W
estern queen—or any
W
estern woman for that matter—would consider tasteful.  Her age was
i
ndefinable, but her expression spoke of experience and maturity.  Beyond all this, however, was the inescapable feeling that she lacked all compassion, for she looked upon Samuel as if he were an ant that had been caught wandering across her blanket. 

She had no aura beyond that of any commoner, but there was something about her that felt unusual.  She reminded him greatly of the Emperor—or perhaps that was just her upright posture and her regal demeanour.

‘Samuel,’ she said, speaking perfect Turian
,
and her lips crept into a smile that was not so much welcoming as self-satisfied.  ‘I’m so glad to finally meet you.  I must say I was underwhelmed by your appearance at first, but you have proven hardier than I would have guessed.  You survived the little test in my dungeon and then you were victorious in my arena.  The crowd was greatly amused by such frivolous antics.  Perhaps you will live up to the stories I have heard, after all.’

‘How is it that everyone in this land speaks the Emperor’s tongue?’ he asked her.

‘My, you do jump to conclusions, don’t you?  I am not used to answering the demands of my guests, but I will grant you the b
oon
on this occasion—as a welcoming gesture.  Utik’cah may already have explained that he was a spy for me in his youth, sent to the
W
est to learn the ways of war.  Long before that, before I had taken my place as queen of this land, I also lived in the
W
est.  That story, however, is too long and tiresome
,
and I will not bore you with its details just yet.  Needless to say, I can speak Turian at least as well, if not better, than you.’

She unclasped her hands and Samuel’s mouth nearly dropped open upon sight of her finger, for a familiar ring glinted upon it.  For a moment, he thought that Balten must have given her his ring, but then he realised it was a twin
:
the Queen’s own Argum Stone. 

In that instant, and taking her commoner’s aura into account, he realised she was not truly a witch as the Order had feared, but was as much dependent on the ring for magic as he.

‘What’s this?’ she said and held her hand out for him to inspect.  ‘You’ve only been here a moment and already you gawk at my finger like a lustful thief.  From this, I must presume you know the secrets of my ring already.  You’re not a very good spy at all, Samuel, if that is what you are supposed to be.’

‘I’m no spy and
,
yes, I know about your ring.  It grants you magic abilities,’ he stated.  ‘Without it, you cannot use any magic at all.’

She hesitated, then smiled again and sat up, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees to speak with him.  ‘So you know more than I would have guessed.  Perhaps I should have had you killed before you can cause any mischief.  Tell me, Samuel—Saviour of Cintar—why have you come here to my city?  What brings you across the great continent to meet me?’

‘You demanded it in a letter.  I have come in exchange for two people: a woman and a child, stolen and brought here to your city.  One is the Empress of Turia
,
the other is her son, Emperor-to-be Leopold Calais.’

‘Oh,’ she said with disappointment.  ‘No games?  No lies?  No misdirection?  What kind of magician are you?  If you keep this up, you will ruin the reputation of your kind.’

‘You know why I am here.  Why would I pretend any different?’

She laughed at this.  ‘You would be surprised, Samuel.  Perhaps this will be interesting after all.’

‘So?’ he prompted her.

‘
So?
’ she repeated.  ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Will you release them to me?’

Again she laughed, but it was a hollow and mean-spirited laugh meant to demean him.  ‘Oh no, not yet;
not
by any measure.  They were gifted to me and I know nothing about the letter of which you speak.  What I do know is that if I let them go, how would I keep you here?  No, I have much planned for you yet and my war with the
W
est is yet to be won.  Now
that
my plans are known, Turia has rallied its defences, but it is only a matter of time before I take Cintar.  The cities of the
W
est shall fall one by one until its capital becomes mine.’

‘Why have you attacked us?’

‘It was not my decision, Samuel.  It is the time of Ajaspah, when the desert people return to the fertile lands beyond the desert to retake their homelands.’

‘Turia was never their homeland,’ he said adamantly.

‘Perhaps not,’ she
returned
with a knowing smile, ‘but that is what my people believe and they expect me to lead them to victory.  The heavens have spoken.  The Star of Osirah has marked our destiny and grows brighter with each of our triumphs.’  She noticed his doubtful look.  ‘Have you not seen it?  I thought you magicians were scholars?  My astronomers found it many years ago when it was only the faintest of dots in the night sky, and it has since carved a path across Rom’s Belt as they foretold.  Now, it has settled in the eye of Rah, where it will remain until it fills the entire night sky.  At that time
,
we will have our victory.  These things were spoken of in texts more ancient than time.  Our victory is assured.  We will burn the infidels
in
their homes and pour from the desert into the
W
est, as countless as the grains of sand.’

‘I am not sure I can allow that,’ he told her plainly, but she remained cool despite his efforts to test her.