The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  She gritted her teeth as she tried to think. There were supplies in her house, but she didn’t dare go there. She wasn’t sure she could open the gates, let alone get into the house itself, in her battered state. And Void had helped her set up the wards. She thought he hadn’t left any surprises behind, but... she couldn’t be sure. Nanette had been under her nose for eighteen months and Emily hadn’t suspected a thing. Void could have been preparing for the day she finally figured out what he was doing...

  But what is he doing? The thought hurt, more than she could say. What is the point?

  “Emily?” Aiden held her, gently. “Where do we go?”

  “This way,” Emily said. Lady Barb had said she’d been staying in Dragon’s Den. There was only one place she could have been staying. “Hurry.”

  She sensed a flicker of magic glittering through the air as they made their way through darkened streets. Dragon’s Den never slept completely, curfew or no curfew, but the town was eerily quiet. She supposed the normal crop of rowdy students and apprentices had been told to behave themselves or else, although it was rare for them to listen. Gordian had probably placed the entire school into lockdown, ensuring the students couldn’t interfere with the conference. Emily gritted her teeth at the thought. Frieda was up there, Frieda and Jasmine and a handful of others she knew by name. And Void was up there, too.

  The magic flickered again and again as they stopped in front of a simple two-story house. It was surrounded by powerful wards, warning anyone with eyes to see that it belonged to a sorcerer, but it was otherwise nicely anonymous. Emily had been surprised, the first and only time she’d visited, to discover it belonged to Sergeant Miles. She’d never really thought about it, she conceded ruefully, but she’d never expected him to own a house that looked as if it belonged to a happy middle-class family. Perhaps he’d inherited it. Or... she knew very little about his past. What little he’d told her had been far from useful.

  She pressed her magic against the wards, hoping he wasn’t asleep. The wards hummed around her, waiting. She hadn’t been keyed into them... she felt a twinge of irritation, even though she knew it was stupid. Sorcerers rarely opened their houses to anyone, even their closest friends. Lady Barb would have been keyed in, she was sure, but anyone else? She waited, sensing more and more flickers of magic darting over the town. They felt as though they were coming from the distant mountains.

  “Emily,” Aiden said. “What are we doing here?”

  “Looking for help,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure what to do with Aiden. “I think...”

  The wards opened. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief as she stepped through and opened the door. The interior glowed with light. Sergeant Miles stood on the stairs, looking tired and cranky. Emily stared at him in horror. His brown hair was shading to grey, his eyes flickering from her to Aiden and back again as if he couldn’t quite recognize them. Lady Barb had said he’d been hurt, but...

  “Emily.” Sergeant Miles gestured. The door closed behind them. “Welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “I pledge to hold my hand in your house.”

  The sergeant nodded, his eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down. “What happened to you?”

  “Betrayal,” Emily said. She hated to presume, but she knew the sergeant would understand. Probably. He would have understood, a year ago. “I need a strengthening potion and some food and...”

  “I’d say you need more than that,” Sergeant Miles said, as he stepped off the stairs and led the way into a sitting room. “Let me take a look at you.”

  Emily tried not to wince as he poked and prodded at her. Sergeant Miles was a trained chirurgeon, and knew plenty of healing spells that weren’t covered by powerful oaths, but he wasn’t a proper healer. Her body ached as he inspected the damage, then muttered a pair of spells she knew wouldn’t last forever. She needed a proper healer and a chance for some rest, not... she accepted a nutrient potion, followed by a warm mug of tea. Aiden sat on a sofa, looking around nervously. She had to be feeling a little out of place.

  “That should do, for the moment,” Sergeant Miles said, finally. “What happened?”

  “I have to get to Whitehall,” Emily said. She rushed through a hasty explanation. “And I need to leave Aiden here, with you.”

  “I should come with you,” Sergeant Miles said. “You’ll need help...”

  Emily said nothing for a long moment. Eighteen months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Sergeant Miles was a trained combat sorcerer, with plenty of experience in sneaking through wards and fighting bigger and nastier foes than himself. But now... his magic felt skewed, his mind no longer what it had been. Emily cursed herself for dragging Lady Barb away from her lover, even though it had been Void’s choice. Had he wanted Lady Barb away from Whitehall? If there was anyone in the Allied Lands who would’ve suspected he was up to something, it was Lady Barb.

  She’s up there now, she thought, numbly. And she doesn’t know something’s about to go terribly wrong.

  “I need you to stay here,” she said. The old sergeant would have understood. But then, she would have taken the old sergeant with her. “If I don’t succeed, you’ll have to alert the White Council.”

  “The White Council is up there,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “Pretty much everyone who thinks they’re important is up there, save for a handful of holdouts.”

  He let out a breath. “Take me with you.”

  “I need you to stay here,” Emily repeated. She hoped - prayed - he wouldn’t push it. She was in no state for another fight. “Please.”

  The sergeant eyed her for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well,” he said. “And I’ll see to your boyfriend, too.”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound like the sergeant she’d known. He might have teased her, once upon a time. There wouldn’t have been a hint of cold anger and disdain in his voice. Come to think of it, he might even have seen through the disguise. He’d always been more perceptive than he’d let his students believe.

  “I could come, too,” Aiden said. She sounded nervous, rather than eager. “If you need me...”

  “Nanette didn’t have any trouble dealing with you,” Emily reminded her. “You don’t want to enter an entire school of magicians.”

  She winced, inwardly, as she brushed down the remnants of her dress. Aiden seemed surprisingly composed, but being transfigured so easily was going to catch up with her sooner or later. Emily had gone into shock herself, the first time it had happened, even though she was a magician. Aiden didn’t even have that consolation. There was no time to worry about it, not now. She’d have to help her friend through it later, if she survived.

  “Barb left some of her clothes behind,” Sergeant Miles said, clearly following her train of thought. “I don’t think she’d mind if you borrowed them. Go upstairs and get changed while I saddle the horse.”

  Emily nodded her thanks, listened to the directions and hurried upstairs. Lady Barb was taller and bustier than her, but she could use a handful of spells to ensure the clothes fitted properly. She scooped up a shirt, a tunic, a pair of heavy trousers and some underwear, then hurried into the bathroom, splashed water on her face and changed into the borrowed clothes. The dress was probably past recovery, but she removed the blood and bagged it up anyway. Perhaps some of the material could be salvaged by a dressmaker...

  She tied her hair back and headed downstairs. Aiden looked tired and worn as she leaned back in the sofa. Emily hoped she’d have a good night’s sleep. She should be safe, for the moment. Very few thieves would dare to rob a magician’s house. And Dragon’s Den was nearly a hundred miles from Freedom City.

  And who knows who’ll win the battle? Emily shuddered. Althorn had predicted victory, but... each of the opposing sides in any war always predicted victory. Dater might have won already, or he might be lying dead in a ditch.

  The thought mocked her as she walked to the rear of the house and stepped into
the tiny stable. Sergeant Miles had been the patron of the horse-riding club at Whitehall - Alassa had been an enthusiastic member - and it shouldn’t have surprised her that he owned a horse, although she suspected someone else had been looking after the poor beast for the last few months. He hadn’t taken the old charger to war. The beast eyed her warily, perhaps aware she was an indifferent rider. She was tempted to try to recharge the amulet instead, or ask him to teleport her, but that would be far too revealing. Void would sense their arrival and take precautions.

  “Buzz will look after you,” Sergeant Miles said. He patted the horse affectionately. “He’s been through more campaigns than me. Just let him go when you get there and he’ll head straight home.”

  Emily nodded as she scrambled into the saddle and braced herself. Buzz grunted, but didn’t seem inclined to throw her and bolt. Old warhorses tended to be sedate, as long as they respected their riders. Sergeant Miles clasped her hand briefly, then opened the stable door. Emily spurred the horse forward, into the darkness. The flickers of magic from the mountains were growing stronger. She cast a night-vision spell as Buzz picked up speed, heading down the empty streets and past a handful of makeshift encampments before galloping out of the town and up the road towards the school. Emily remembered Gordian pledging he’d have the road repaired, sooner rather than later. It looked as if he hadn’t bothered to keep his word.

  She forced herself to focus her mind as the horse carried her up the dark road. The magic was growing stronger, suggesting... what? Void could be up to anything. He could even be trying to take control of the nexus point. It wasn’t impossible. He’d asked her all sorts of questions about how she’d tamed Heart’s Eye, then Kuching. And he might even have a vial of her blood. Emily had been careful - that habit had been drummed into her ever since she’d started learning magic - but he’d had plenty of opportunities to take a sample.

  And Nanette was right next to me for eighteen months, Emily thought, grimly. It was hard, so hard, to wrap her head around it. Nanette - Nanette - had made her bed, washed her clothes, cleaned her room... it was terrifying. She could have collected a sample, too.

  Buzz shifted uncomfortably underneath her as they reached the edge of the forest. Emily tried not to betray her unease, even though it had to be pushing midnight. Being outside after dark was asking for trouble, particularly well away from the urban areas. She knew there were things in the darkness, watching her as she galloped past. She’d heard all sorts of tales of people who wandered into the Greenwood and came out again centuries later, or changed, or simply never came out at all. Gordian had talked about destroying the Greenwood, about cutting down the trees and leaving the land barren and bare. The thought caused her a twinge of pain, even though she knew how dangerous the Greenwood could be. She didn’t want to destroy it.

  She reached out with her mind, sensing the pulses from the school. Something was wrong. Something was badly wrong. She tried to process what she was sensing, but couldn’t make head or tails of it. Void was up to something... she pulled on the reins as the horse carried her out of the Greenwood and slowed as he neared the gatehouse. There should have been a pair of students on guard, even though no one had any reason to fear attack. She’d stood guard duty herself, all too aware she’d find herself in hot water if she fell asleep. But now there was no one. The gatehouse - and the low wall beyond - was empty.

  Emily let out a breath as the horse stopped, then allowed herself to drop to the ground. Buzz eyed her placidly, then turned his attention to cropping the grass. He’d stay in the vicinity, she was sure, then go back to his master. She gave him a little pat, then turned away and headed to the gatehouse. The wards barred her. She cursed inwardly, then reached out with her magic. Void might have blocked her way, if Nanette had reported back to him. It was quite possible. He wasn’t the sort of person to curse the messenger. And Nanette hadn’t actually failed in her duty.

  Unless you didn’t know him as well as you thought, her mind mocked her. She’d liked Void, but... it was clear she hadn’t known him very well. She should have listened to Lady Barb’s warnings. Just because he was kind to you doesn’t mean he was kind to others.

  She scowled. Gordian might have keyed the wards to deny her entry. He’d disliked her even before he’d realized how much power she had over the school. And he had good reason to want to keep her out... she put the thought out of her mind as she inched through the wards, trying to prise them open long enough to get through rather than break them outright. She thought she could - the wards weren’t connected to the nexus point - but that would have set off alarms all over the school. She wondered, numbly, if she shouldn’t do just that. The school wasn’t on alert. Perhaps it should be. Perhaps it would distract him...

  A sense of unease overwhelmed her the moment she stepped through the last of the wards and into the gatehouse. Craven fear washed through her mind, the force of the impact enough to drive her to her knees. She gritted her teeth, knowing the fear wasn’t real. It was still hard to stand and force her way through the sensation, inching towards the door. A mob of angry rioters would have turned and fled right into the Greenwood, if they’d walked straight into the charm. Emily kept her head up, somehow, as she walked up the road towards the school. Whitehall was normally glowing with light, casting an eerie radiance over the mountains, but now the school was dark and cold. The magical pulses were steadying... whatever he was doing, it was reaching its conclusion. She had to hurry.

  Something moved, ahead of her. The two gargoyles by the door - the stone creatures she was sure moved when she wasn’t looking - stood and advanced towards her. She saw metal teeth glinting in stone jaws, gemstone eyes glowing with magic as they locked onto her face. Emily grimaced, powerful magic beating against her wards. The gargoyles had to be a final line of defense, particularly when they weren’t linked directly to the wardmaster. Gordian wouldn’t be steering them. He didn’t have the nerve to try to kill her directly.

  Not as long as there’s even the slightest chance he might be blamed, she thought, with a hint of bitterness. She could admire someone determined to make something of himself, even if it came at a price, but not someone who couldn’t make a decision. Gordian’s wishy-washy nature grated on her nerves. He’d sooner leave himself plausible deniability than actually take bold steps to make himself a powerful man.

  Her hand dropped to her empty belt. She’d left her pistol behind, somewhere in the burning city. Not that it mattered, she thought sourly. The pistol wouldn’t so much as scratch the advancing monsters. She braced herself and reached for her magic, then darted forward to press her hand against the nearest gargoyle. It whirled around to lash out at her, too late. She drained the magic into herself, a trick she’d leant from Void. The gargoyle stumbled and fell to the ground. Emily grinned, feeling a little more like herself as she caught hold of the second one and repeated the trick. Whoever had crafted the stone creatures hadn’t linked them to the nexus point, let alone the school’s wards. The trick would have been impossible if they’d been able to draw on unlimited power...

  And whatever he’s doing, he’s doing to the nexus point, Emily thought. She could feel it as she inched past the gargoyles and up to the doors. They gaped open, invitingly. What is he doing?

  Bracing herself, she stepped into the school.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  WHITEHALL FELT... WRONG.

  Emily felt uneasy, utterly out of place, as she made her way through corridors she’d once known like the back of her hand. She’d spent six years in Whitehall. She’d come to see the school as her first real home. And yet, the building had taken on a hazy dreamlike quality that chilled her to the bone. Eerie silver light - she couldn’t help thinking of it as moonlight - pulsed through the walls, with no clear source. She frowned as she passed a pair of suits of armor, half-expecting them to spring to life and attack. But they didn’t move.

  The sense of unreality grew stronger as she made her way down the corridor. It was
late, but not that late. Even now, even with the school in lockdown, there should be students sneaking around and teachers enjoying a few scant hours of peace before they went to sleep to snatch what little rest they could. She felt oddly guilty as she moved onwards, part of her mind convinced she’d walk around the corner and straight into a patrolling teacher. And yet, there was nothing. The corridors were empty.

  Perhaps he’s killed them all, she thought, morbidly. The idea terrified her. Frieda was somewhere in the giant building, perhaps in her room... was she dead? Perhaps he wanted to slaughter the entire council.

  She frowned as she stepped into the antechamber. A handful of men in ceremonial armor - charmed armor - stood in front of her. She flinched - one of the men had been part of Master Lucknow’s posse - but they didn’t react to her presence. They weren’t frozen, yet... she sucked in her breath as she leaned forward to study the spell. They were entranced. It looked like a simple compulsion spell, but cast on an incredible scale. A nasty thought ran through her head, one she wished she hadn’t had. The spell was far too close to a necromantic spell for her peace of mind, yet... it was too subtle for a necromancer. Shadye wouldn’t have been able to make it work. Void could have, easily, but on such a big scale...

  He used a battery, she realized. It wouldn’t be easy to cram such a spell into a wand, but it could be done. Nanette had done something similar. And all he had to do was cast the spell once.

  A wave of bitterness nearly overcame her as she stepped past the entranced guards and peered into the lounge. Students - fourth years, if she was any judge - sat on sofas, as entranced as the guards outside. They would have been fetching and carrying for the delegates, she guessed. Frieda’s letter had told her the students had been pressed into service as servants, something that had outraged nearly all of them. Emily almost smiled at the thought. Gordian was likely to regret not hiring additional maids and manservants from the outside world. A single incident would have the parents and families up in arms.