The tree shook, violently. Alassa glanced up, sighted another treetop and cast a second attractor spell. She flew off the branch, yanked forward by an irresistible force. Jade had explained, in detail, precisely why the spell worked – and why balancing the weights was important – but Alassa didn’t care about the details. She wasn’t her friend Emily, who’d happily spend an afternoon taking the spell apart to find out how and why it worked, then rewrite the spellware to suit herself. All Alassa cared about was how it could be used.
She cast a third spell as she flew through the air, latching onto a third tree. The magic balanced, allowing her to hang motionless in the air. Jade had told her that it was an old combat sorcerer trick, although he was the only combat sorcerer she’d seen use it. Even Master Grey hadn’t used it, not when she’d been watching. But then, he’d been confined to the dueling circle. There had been no room to fly.
One of the spells snapped, canceled by her unseen attacker. Alassa gasped as she hurled towards the other tree, catching herself an instant before it was too late. She grinned as she crawled around the tree trunk, moving from branch to branch. The sorcerer had assumed, no doubt, that she was levitating. He’d probably expected her to fall out of the air and land at his feet. But instead she’d been yanked out of the way.
She looked down, trying to peer through the leaves. The sorcerer would be able to sense her, she was sure. She couldn’t hide herself and use magic, not simultaneously. And yet, she could easily make her escape. She could turn herself into a bird and hide in the woods, or simply move from tree to tree until she crossed paths with Jade and her guards. It would be the smart thing to do.
Her fingers reached down and touched her abdomen, where the baby was growing … if, indeed, there was a baby. If there was no baby, she could transform herself and hide ... but if there was, she’d risk harming the unborn child. And she couldn’t allow herself to be captured ...
Pulling her magic around her, she threw herself to the ground. Another spell shot past her, a moment too late. They were trying to capture her, it seemed. A trained sorcerer had no shortage of options if he wanted her dead, rather than locked away in a hidden cell. Not someone who wanted to cause chaos, then. There weren’t that many factions which would come out ahead if King Randor was suddenly left without an heir. The list of suspects was long, but manageable.
She hit the ground, her spells canceling her fall. Magic billowed out in all directions – she heard a male voice curse – as she landed, looking around quickly. Two men, both dressed as peasants, were forced back by her magic, holding up their hands to shield themselves. She snapped her fingers at them, casting a pair of transfiguration spells. They should have been transformed into frogs, but the magic snapped out of existence an instant before it touched their skins. Not sorcerers themselves, then … yet someone had given them protections. The list of suspects suddenly seemed a little shorter.
A hand fell on her upper arm, swinging her around. Another man stood there, leering down at her. Alassa felt a flicker of contempt as she threw a punch at his jaw, casting the force punch spell an instant before she made contact. The man’s head disintegrated under the force of the blow. She yanked herself free of his grip as his body collapsed, resisting the urge to kick him as hard as she could. What had he thought she was? A pampered princess who’d faint the moment she saw blood? Or a scared little girl who’d be too frightened of the big strong man to fight back? Or … there were women in court who’d probably surrender at once, if someone grabbed their arm, but not her. She was a sorceress! Didn’t they know she was a sorceress?
She turned back to the other two men, glancing around for the sorcerer. Where was he? Had she landed on him? She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t see him anyway. And there was no time to reach out with her senses. The two men were advancing on her, carefully. One of them was holding an iron net, runes carved into the metal. A good trick, she acknowledged sourly. Once they had her pinned down, they’d be able to stun or drug her before they carried her deeper into the forest. Even Jade would have problems tracking them down before they reached their lair. And then they’d probably use her as leverage to make her father do whatever they wanted.
Hell, no, she thought.
Alassa took a step backwards, studying the men as they advanced. They didn’t seem to be angry that one – perhaps two – of their fellows had died, even though they were clearly a team. Professionals, then. Mercenaries? Or armsmen? They were definitely not peasants, whatever they might be wearing. Their clothes were too clean. It was a dead giveaway, even if they weren’t moving and acting like soldiers. The ambush had come far too close to outright success. It might still succeed.
Hell with that, she thought.
She cast another pair of spells, watching them flicker and die, then cast a kinetic spell on a tree branch. The two men didn’t look impressed as she pushed it at them, clearly not recognizing the threat. A normal spell would fail the minute it struck their protections, dropping the branch to the ground, but Alassa hadn’t cast a normal spell. Emily had taught her something better, something guaranteed to take even a trained sorcerer by surprise. The spell might die, the moment it was canceled, but the motion it had imparted to the tree branch would live on. She watched with grim satisfaction as it slammed into its targets, hurling them back. One of them hit a tree hard enough to break his neck. The other was badly wounded. It was a minor miracle he’d survived.
A spell slammed into her back, throwing her to the ground. The sorcerer. She cursed her mistake as she hit the dirt, trying to force herself to move forward as another spell smashed her back down again. She’d forgotten him … how had she forgotten him? She twisted, fighting the power as it burned through her protections one by one. The sorcerer was bending over her, his face so indistinct that her eyes just seemed to slip over him. A glamour, then, a glamour so powerful that it had caused her to lose track of him altogether … until he’d attacked her.
The last of her protections started to die. She’d be helpless … panic yammered at the back of her mind, panic she ruthlessly suppressed. She forced herself to roll over, slipping the virgin blade from its sleeve and slashing out towards him. He jerked back, so quickly that all she did was cut him. But it was enough. His glamour snapped an instant before he staggered and fell. The poison on the blade was very quick. Only a trained alchemist could possibly have brewed an antidote and none of them could have brewed it in time to save the victim’s life. He tried to lift his hand, perhaps to cast one final spell, but it was already too late.
Alassa stood, returning the dagger to its sleeve and brushing the dirt off her clothes as she looked down at the dead body. The sorcerer was a complete stranger, somewhat to her relief. At least he wasn’t a recent graduate of Whitehall! But then, someone who’d been at the school would know better than to underestimate her. She glanced up and smiled as Jade’s horse cantered into the clearing, his magic crackling on the air. He’d sensed something, alright. And he’d pushed his horse with magic. The poor creature looked as though it was on the verge of collapse.
Lady Cecelia will not be pleased, Alassa thought, wryly. The Lady of the Stables was one of the most intimidating people in the castle. She’d been one of the very few people Alassa had respected and feared as a child. But he had no choice.
She grinned as Jade jumped off his horse. “What kept you?”
Jade stared back at her. “What happened?”
A dozen mischievous answers ran through Alassa’s mind, but she walked forward and kissed him instead. He kissed her back, hard. Someone had tried to kidnap her, but he’d failed … he’d failed completely. She pushed against Jade, feeling his muscles start to relax. She’d escaped. She wanted to celebrate …
Someone groaned. She jerked back, one hand reaching for the dagger. One of the attackers was still alive … badly wounded, mortally wounded, but alive. Jade walked towards him, motioning for her to stay back. Alassa followed, studying the wounded man carefully. His legs w
ere a mangled mess and, judging from the way he was struggling to breathe, he had internal injuries too. A trained healer might be able to save him, but who’d want to waste effort trying? He’d committed an act of treason against his king!
She drew the dagger. “Answer my questions and I’ll give you a quick end,” she said. Emily would not approve, but Emily wasn’t the one who needed answers. Besides, there were no other ways to make him talk. No one would send armsmen or mercenaries out on a kidnap mission without making sure they couldn’t be forced to divulge information. The only way to get answers was to make the wounded man talk willingly. “If not … I’ll just leave you here.”
He looked back at her, his eyes filled with horror. There was no hope of survival. He knew it as well as she did. And being left behind … he might die quickly or he might be chewed to death by wild animals. The blood would draw foxes and wild boar to the clearing. Alassa wouldn’t have cared to face a boar, not without proper weapons or magic.
“I …”
He convulsed, sharply. Alassa started forward, but Jade caught her arm and pulled her backwards. The wounded man shuddered, then went limp and unmoving. Jade stepped forward and prodded him, not gently.
“A suicide spell,” he said, finally. “One designed to keep him from talking under any circumstances.”
And one he would have had to accept willingly, Alassa thought. It would have been a very complex spell. A simple one wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between being wounded and being tortured. Who are we facing?
Alassa reached out and took Jade’s hand, just for a moment. His warm grip was reassuring, even though she knew she should be worried. Someone had risked an ambush within a few hours of Alexis. And even though the ambush had failed, the person behind it was still unknown. One of the Barons? Or one of the more radical factions? Or someone trying to cause trouble? Everyone knew the kingdom was on a knife-edge. An attack on the Crown Princess might just start a slide towards civil war.
She let go of Jade’s hand, stepping away from him and standing straighter as the guardsmen raced into the clearing, followed by the four carriages. Her personal bodyguards jumped off their horses, weapons raised … too late. She kicked herself, mentally. Too many people knew she had a habit of galloping off, leaving her husband and bodyguards behind. That piece of predictable behavior had nearly gotten her kidnapped – or killed. Her father was not going to be pleased.
“Your Highness,” Sir William said. “Are you alright?”
Alassa looked back at him, evenly. Sir William was one of the very few senior knights – he was old enough to be her father – who didn’t appear to resent taking orders from a young woman. And he wasn’t scared of her magic either, as far as she could tell. That made him practically unique around the court. But then, she had been a little monster when she’d come into her powers. And there was no way she could show weakness now. Too many older men saw her as a foolish female, someone who would allow either her hormones or her husband to guide her. She honestly wasn’t sure which one they found most objectionable.
Probably the prospect of Jade giving me orders, she thought. The unfairness burned in her gut. Even something as simple as holding Jade’s hand would be seen as a sign of weakness - of femininity - while boys half her age could lead men and win renown on the battlefield. At least my hormones are aristocratic hormones.
She pushed the resentment out of her head. She was Crown Princess – and she would be Queen, in time. The kingdom would be hers until she died, whereupon it would be passed down to her eldest child. That was all that mattered.
“Put the bodies in the carriage,” she ordered. She carefully didn’t answer his question. It wasn’t one he would have asked a man. “We’ll see if we can identify them when we get home.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Sir William said.
“I don’t recognize any of the bastards,” Jade said, as the troopers hurried to obey. “Not even the sorcerer.”
Alassa nodded, stiffly. There were thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of sorcerers in the Nameless World – and not all of them went to school. The bastard who’d set the ambush could have studied at Mountaintop or Stronghold or … he might simply have been taught by his parents. There was no guarantee that an investigation would turn up his name, let alone whoever had hired him. The unknown backers had worked hard to ensure they wouldn’t be fingered by their servants.
“We’ll find out,” she promised. Anger burned within her, demanding retribution. Someone had tried to kidnap her, to turn her into a pawn in their game. “And then we’ll kill them.”
Sir William stamped back to her. “The bodies have been stowed, Your Highness,” he said, curtly. “I suggest we move.”
Alassa looked at her horse. The poor beast was lying on the ground, dead. Whatever spell had been used to freeze the beast had snapped during the brief fight – or, perhaps, the sorcerer had killed the horse, just to make sure she couldn’t jump on and flee. He definitely hadn’t known her very well, had he?
“Give me one of the spare horses,” she ordered. She was aware of Jade shifting behind her, but deliberately didn’t look at him. “The rider can stay in the carriage.”
Sir William looked, just for a moment, as if he wanted to protest. Alassa didn’t blame him, not really. He would be in deep shit when they got home, if only for letting her get so far ahead of him that she’d run into an ambush and had to fight her way out by herself. Jade was equally guilty, but Jade was Prince Consort. There was literally no one else to blame.
But I won’t let them put me out of the way, either, Alassa thought. They wouldn’t tell a king or a prince to hide.
“As you command, Your Highness,” Sir William said. “Shall we go?”
Alassa nodded. Jade was not going to be pleased, but he’d keep his thoughts to himself until they were alone. And then … they’d argue, they’d fight, and then they’d make up. She definitely couldn’t wait.
“Yes, Sir William,” she said grandly, once the dead horse had been cremated. “We shall go.”
Chapter Two
ALASSA FELT GRIMY BY THE TIME they cantered up the Royal Mile towards the castle. It had been a long ride, made longer by Sir William’s determination to avoid a predictable route home. She didn’t fault him for being careful, even though whoever was behind the bandits was unlikely to risk having more than one team picketing the king’s roads. The chance of being noticed by someone who might be inclined to report their presence was simply too high.
Although they could just have bribed someone to ignore them, she thought, grimly. The king’s inspectors were grossly underpaid, particularly now. Or even subverted a couple of taxmen.
She glanced from side to side, taking in the city. There were fewer people on the streets than she’d expected, but the sun was already setting behind the eastern mountains. Curfew was in thirty minutes, more or less. Anyone caught on the streets after dark would be lucky if they only spent a day in the stocks, being booed and hissed by their fellows, before they were released back onto the streets. Her father’s paranoia had been growing stronger, ever since the assassination attempt. She winced, feeling a stab of remembered pain as the ball slammed into her chest. She’d been healed, naturally, but the memories remained.
There were more armed guards surrounding the castle, the first – and very visible – line of defense. No one, save for the King and Princess’s armsmen, were allowed to bear weapons anywhere near the castle itself. It had grated on some of the nobility, who regarded their right to bear arms as a sign of their position, but King Randor hadn’t been inclined to care. A show of force, he’d insisted, was often enough to stop plotters in their tracks. Beyond the guards, Alassa could see the subtler defenses woven into the castle’s walls – wards and protective runes designed to keep out magical threats – but very few others could. Zangaria had never been a great haven for sorcery and those sorcerers who lived in the city were largely working for the king.
S
he allowed herself a moment of relief as she passed through the gates – the wards pressing against her to confirm she was the princess, instead of a sorceress in disguise – and into the courtyard. The castle was a squat brooding monstrosity, a huge building of grey stone that dated back to the days before the Empire, but it was home. She’d grown up on the upper levels, surrounded by maids, ladies and sycophants. It was funny how she hadn’t realized just how poorly she’d been brought up until she’d gone to Whitehall. But if her father had seen her potential from the start, she would never have gone to Whitehall.
And I would never have met Jade, she thought, with a rush of affection. She’d been lucky with him and she knew it. Or Emily or Imaiqah or …
A pair of stableboys came forward, ready to take the horses. Alassa slipped off her mount neatly, landing on the stone floor. Normally, she would have taken the horse to the stable herself and rubbed the beast down, but she didn’t have time. It gnawed at her more than she cared to admit, certainly not in front of anyone other than her closest friends. The servants were there to serve, but using them was also a kind of dependence. She couldn’t afford to have people thinking she was dependent on her servants. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
The stableboys bowed, then took the reins and led the horse away hastily. Alassa felt a stab of amusement, mingled with guilt. She’d learnt her lesson about bullying servants – and everyone else too – but the legacy of the past still remained. Far too many of the older servants remembered her as a little brat, not a grown woman. They were still at her mercy. A word from her was still enough to have a servant dragged off and tortured to death. The stableboys simply didn’t want to be in eyeshot long enough for her to think of something amusing – or horrible – to do to them.
She looked up at Sir William as he dismounted. “Dismiss the escort,” she ordered, keeping her voice level. Men respected strength and determination, but they detested people who were either overbearing or weak. It was a balancing act that seemed tilted against the women. She had no idea how Lady Barb managed to command so much respect from all and sundry. “Give them a day of leave – and a bonus.”
Alassa's Tale: a Schooled in Magic novella Page 2