Read Online The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) by Michael Foster - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Foster
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to cry in her arms.
‘Don’t worry Samuel. I’ll take care of you. It doesn’t matter. It was only a lamp. I’ll get you another.’
He rubbed his sleeve across his eyes and looked away. ‘I don’t care about it.’
She sat with him in silence while he cried out his tears. When his sobbing had slowed, she spoke softly. ‘I hear you late at night, Samuel. It’s all right to cry.’
‘I dream about them all the time,’ he said, his gaze locked on the floor. ‘I just wish so much they hadn’t died. I wish they could come back. I feel so sad, I just don’t know what I can do. I hate it here. I hate everything!’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. We can take care of each other,’ she told him, and with her beside him, Samuel felt that he had one tiny little piece of family still left in the world.
She stayed long after her mother began calling, until a tall, thin silhouette appeared in the entrance tapping its foot, forcing her to depart. If it were not for Jessicah, Samuel honestly did not know what he would do.
It was nearly a week before Samuel thought he was almost better. His chest only hurt now when he rolled on it or moved too quickly. Thankfully, he had barely seen his uncle the entire time, making sure to do all his chores quickly and without the need for being reminded. The man had appeared in the yard this morning, smiling and in good humour, and had sent Samuel to the marketplace for some spice, actually patting him fondly on the head before Samuel could dart past.
As Samuel was hurrying along, he noticed some boys playing kick-ball in the street. He was watching them from a distance when one boy broke from the others and ran over to him. He recognised the boy. They had played a few times before and his freckled, round face seemed friendly. The other children were watching on and waiting expectantly.
‘Want to play?’ the boy asked, short of breath.
‘Yes, please,’ Samuel replied with an enthusiastic nod. He was in no hurry to return to the inn and this seemed like a good enough distraction
‘Do you know how to play?’ the boy asked and again Samuel nodded.
He joined the freckle-faced boy’s team and the game began over. There were a couple of rocks spaced a few paces apart at each end of the playing area, which acted as the goal. There was a little rough play, but Samuel was not at all worried—in fact, he delighted in the rough and tumbling play. He pushed just as hard as he was pushed and whenever they tumbled on the ground and began wrestling, he laughed with pure enjoyment, joining in for all he was worth.
Samuel had a strong kick, but an awful aim and each time he booted the ball towards the goal, he felt embarrassed as his teammates had to chase it and fetch it back. One of the boys on the other team was older and considerably larger than his fellows and he obviously considered himself the champion of the game. He became enraged and swore out loud for all to hear each time anyone tried to take the ball from him. Passers-by in the square gasped and commented at the older boy’s language, but it only made the boy grin all the more. Samuel was not keen to wrestle with him as he had seen him punch others in the nose and make them cry—not at all like the fun wrestling the others enjoyed.
‘Careful,’ the freckle-faced boy, Connel, said as he ran past. ‘He’s lookin’ at you.’
Samuel looked to the rough boy, who was running his finger across his throat and pointing to him with the other. Samuel swallowed hard.
As Samuel charged to intercept the ball as it spun free, his feet were abruptly knocked from underneath him and he collided harshly with the ground, cracking his chin onto the stones. He yelled out in pain.
He could hear the big boy laughing and Samuel suddenly boiled over in a rage. In a flash, he was up on his feet. He turned to confront the bully, who grinned with glee and threw himself straight onto Samuel without hesitation.
Samuel was
‘Don’t worry Samuel. I’ll take care of you. It doesn’t matter. It was only a lamp. I’ll get you another.’
He rubbed his sleeve across his eyes and looked away. ‘I don’t care about it.’
She sat with him in silence while he cried out his tears. When his sobbing had slowed, she spoke softly. ‘I hear you late at night, Samuel. It’s all right to cry.’
‘I dream about them all the time,’ he said, his gaze locked on the floor. ‘I just wish so much they hadn’t died. I wish they could come back. I feel so sad, I just don’t know what I can do. I hate it here. I hate everything!’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. We can take care of each other,’ she told him, and with her beside him, Samuel felt that he had one tiny little piece of family still left in the world.
She stayed long after her mother began calling, until a tall, thin silhouette appeared in the entrance tapping its foot, forcing her to depart. If it were not for Jessicah, Samuel honestly did not know what he would do.
It was nearly a week before Samuel thought he was almost better. His chest only hurt now when he rolled on it or moved too quickly. Thankfully, he had barely seen his uncle the entire time, making sure to do all his chores quickly and without the need for being reminded. The man had appeared in the yard this morning, smiling and in good humour, and had sent Samuel to the marketplace for some spice, actually patting him fondly on the head before Samuel could dart past.
As Samuel was hurrying along, he noticed some boys playing kick-ball in the street. He was watching them from a distance when one boy broke from the others and ran over to him. He recognised the boy. They had played a few times before and his freckled, round face seemed friendly. The other children were watching on and waiting expectantly.
‘Want to play?’ the boy asked, short of breath.
‘Yes, please,’ Samuel replied with an enthusiastic nod. He was in no hurry to return to the inn and this seemed like a good enough distraction
‘Do you know how to play?’ the boy asked and again Samuel nodded.
He joined the freckle-faced boy’s team and the game began over. There were a couple of rocks spaced a few paces apart at each end of the playing area, which acted as the goal. There was a little rough play, but Samuel was not at all worried—in fact, he delighted in the rough and tumbling play. He pushed just as hard as he was pushed and whenever they tumbled on the ground and began wrestling, he laughed with pure enjoyment, joining in for all he was worth.
Samuel had a strong kick, but an awful aim and each time he booted the ball towards the goal, he felt embarrassed as his teammates had to chase it and fetch it back. One of the boys on the other team was older and considerably larger than his fellows and he obviously considered himself the champion of the game. He became enraged and swore out loud for all to hear each time anyone tried to take the ball from him. Passers-by in the square gasped and commented at the older boy’s language, but it only made the boy grin all the more. Samuel was not keen to wrestle with him as he had seen him punch others in the nose and make them cry—not at all like the fun wrestling the others enjoyed.
‘Careful,’ the freckle-faced boy, Connel, said as he ran past. ‘He’s lookin’ at you.’
Samuel looked to the rough boy, who was running his finger across his throat and pointing to him with the other. Samuel swallowed hard.
As Samuel charged to intercept the ball as it spun free, his feet were abruptly knocked from underneath him and he collided harshly with the ground, cracking his chin onto the stones. He yelled out in pain.
He could hear the big boy laughing and Samuel suddenly boiled over in a rage. In a flash, he was up on his feet. He turned to confront the bully, who grinned with glee and threw himself straight onto Samuel without hesitation.
Samuel was
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