The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) by Michael Foster Read Free Book Online Page A

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