Bookworm

by Christopher Nuttall

  Elaine nodded, remembering the descriptions of the final days of the Second Necromantic War. An entire continent had been laid to waste to destroy the Witch-King and his followers.

  “This book was written by the Witch-King himself,” Dread said. “There were always rumours that he had created a grimoire of his own, but nothing ever surfaced...until now.”

  He stared down at the blank cover. “Anyone with even the rudimentary magical abilities possessed by the lowest student would eventually be able to use the principles in this book to construct his own spells,” he added. “The spell that killed Cat came out of this book. So did the spell that Duke Gama used to charm his private volumes – and the spell that killed him. There is enough in here to take someone from very basic abilities to the very highest levels of magic, all the while turning him into a monster.”

  Princess Sacharissa gulped. “And it was hidden in Ida for hundreds of years?”

  “Almost certainly,” Dread said. “And it leads to one final point. This is the proof we need to stop him. The Inquisition will arrest him today.”

  “I need to be there,” Elaine said, before she could stop herself.

  “And me,” Daria said, firmly. “We both need to be there.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Absolutely out of the question,” Dread said, firmly. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it could be?”

  A thousand images of maddened or desperate sorcerers fighting their inevitable destruction washed through Elaine’s mind. “Yes,” she said, “but I should be there anyway. I know more about dark magic than any dark sorcerer.”

  “That is not a good thing to put on your résumé,” Dread said. His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “He’s going to be desperate; merely possessing that book is grounds for immediate execution. You will be his target if he realises that you led us to him.”

  “I need to be there,” Elaine insisted. In truth, she suspected that she would never believe that the threat was over until she’d seen Prince Hilarion die. The Inquisition would probably prefer him to die resisting arrest than to surrender, knowing that his knowledge would make him a target for every other sorcerer who wanted to boost his powers. “Please...”

  Dread looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “Meet us at the Spearpoint in two hours,” he ordered, finally. “And you are going to have to obey orders. A duel with a magician powerful enough to become the Grand Sorcerer is never easy – and he could have boosted his powers greatly over the last few years. The Inquisitors won’t have time to protect you if Prince Hilarion decides it’s time to fight.”

  “And he will,” the Princess said. “He was never at his best when he was backed into a corner.”

  “I will do as I’m told,” Elaine promised. Daria, beside her, nodded shortly. “How many Inquisitors are you going to bring with you?”

  “A small army,” Dread said. “I’ve already sent out one set of messages, declaring an alert. The remainder of the force will meet up at the Spearpoint, assuming that Prince Hilarion doesn’t decide to run.”

  Daria leaned forward. “And what if he does?”

  “Then we have to improvise,” Dread said. “There are really too many people in the Golden City to risk fighting a pitched battle here.”

  Elaine nodded. The population was high even without the hundreds of thousands of visitors who had flocked to the Golden City in the wake of the Grand Sorcerer’s death. An all-out battle between different magical factions was likely to leave half the city in ruins.

  “Meet us at the Spearpoint if you don’t change your mind,” Dread added. “And don’t be late. We won’t have time to wait.”

  ***

  By long convention, dating back to the era before the empire first stumbled into existence, the Spearpoint was technically enemy territory. Upon declaring war, the Emperor would stand in the patch of ground that comprised the Spearpoint and plunge a spear into the ground, symbolically striking the enemy country. The Spearpoint had become a temple to the gods of war after the empire had claimed the entire world, one decorated with statues and medals representing the campaigns that had been fought by the army. One statue was curiously out of place to Elaine’s eyes; Valiant, hero of the First Necromantic War – and villain of the Second War. Dread had skimmed through a book written by his greatest hero and had never realised it.

  One Inquisitor was terrifying to anyone who had something to feel guilty about – or just suspected that the Inquisitors believed them to be guilty. A small army of Inquisitors was far worse, although Elaine had expected more than twelve men in black robes. Behind them, there was a small platoon of combat magicians and a number of civil guardsmen. The guards would be there mainly to move civilians out of the combat zone, knowing that a single dark magician could overwhelm them within seconds. Elaine didn’t feel reassured, even when Dread nodded to her and introduced her to the other Inquisitors. Not all of them looked happy to see a bookworm in the flesh.

  Dread glanced around at his squad and then led them onto the street, heading up towards High Tory. None of them spoke out loud, although Elaine had the faint sense that they were communicating somehow on a level she couldn’t understand or access. A couple of them even looked like werewolves, complete with the canine features that Millicent had noticed on Daria. Elaine hadn’t realised that the Inquisition took werewolves, but it was starting to seem as though a great deal of what everyone knew about the Inquisition was false. How many Inquisitors were there in the entire world if twelve Inquisitors constituted an army?

  “The target is still in his mansion,” Dread said, briefing the other Inquisitors. Elaine, tagging along at the rear of the army, barely heard him. “The scouts say that he’s clearly preparing for departure. We intend to intercept him before he can leave High Tory.”

  Elaine had to smile as the implications sunk in. High Tory was the wealthiest place in the city, but it was also the least densely populated. Dread was saving lives at the cost of making some very powerful political enemies. But then, waiting until Prince Hilarion managed to escape into the slums – or the countryside – might have been waiting too long. Who knew what other tricks Prince Hilarion might have picked up from other forbidden books?

  The crowd scattered as the Inquisitors marched, even the soldiers and upper-class tourists giving them a wide berth. Interfering with the Inquisition carried stiff penalties, penalties that would break almost anyone. Elaine saw a mother snatching up a child who would otherwise have run out into the street and been trodden on by the Inquisitors. The fearful looks left her feeling bitter, almost jaded. Was this how it felt to be the Grand Sorcerer, knowing that the only thing keeping the city from collapsing into civil unrest was fear of the strongman in the Imperial Palace? Or what if she had been boosted into a terrifyingly powerful magician? Would people have stared at her in the streets if they’d seen her? The thought was a depressing one.

  Dread issued orders calmly and precisely, ordering the guardsmen to evacuate the surrounding buildings while the Inquisitors prepared their operation. Some of them carried amulets and bracelets that provided specific magical tricks to call upon, ready to test the wards, while others produced long silver swords that seemed to gleam with light. All of them carried wands in holsters attached to their belts, but none of them seemed to need them. They would all be proficient at magic without wands.

  She found herself glancing in the direction of Millicent’s home and wondering what had happened to her, and her Aunt. Dread had listened to her when she’d told him about Millicent, leaving out the details about the secret passageways and Lady Light Spinner’s accident, but he hadn’t commented on Millicent’s actions. Cheating was part of the tradition for the contest, after all, and Millicent was one of the nobility. He might have decided to let it pass, rather than start a second political catfight.

  “Good,” Dread said. His voice carried easily across the square. Elaine looked up from her musings and saw six Inquisitors standing in front of the gates
, suggesting that the others had gone to cover the ways out of the mansion. “Set One; go.”

  Three Inquisitors ran forward, raising amulets charged with carefully prepared magic and pressed them into the wards. Elaine felt the wards suddenly spinning out of control as the Inquisitors started to hack into them, using a technique that she knew she couldn’t have matched. But she’d been trying to slip through the wards; the Inquisitors were trying to break them. They didn’t need to worry about anyone in the mansion being alerted. Chances were that Prince Hilarion’s spies had already warned him about the Inquisitors on their way to High Tory. No doubt every magician who could afford it maintained their own watch on the Inquisition. No one became a powerful sorcerer without bending the rules, giving them all something to feel guilty about.

  Elaine was surprised that they hadn’t demanded the Prince’s surrender, before realising that it would be pointless. There was no exception in the rules for anyone who learned dark magic deliberately. Prince Hilarion would either be executed after interrogation or killed when he tried to resist arrest. The real problem was Count Lucas – who might be innocent – and the slaves inside the building, who definitely were. There was a final flash of light and then the wards collapsed, allowing the second team of Inquisitors to advance forward, wands at the ready. A person appeared at the main doors to the mansion, holding his hands in the air. Count Lucas...

  Dread was ready for him. “Count Lucas,” he bellowed, using his wand to amplify his voice. “By order of the Star Chamber, you are to be taken into custody and interrogated relating to the learning and use of dark magic, both punishable under the Edict of Year One. If you surrender yourself into our custody, we will determine your guilt or innocence in an interrogation chamber. Refusal to surrender will result in a presumption of guilt and we will not try to take you alive. This is your only warning.”

  Count Lucas staggered towards Dread, keeping his hands in the air. “He’s gone crazy,” he said. Elaine’s eyesight wasn’t perfect, but a simple spell allowed her to study him closely – and see the burn marks on his face. Someone had used a spell to torture him into submission. “You have to stop him.”

  Dread produced a pair of charmed handcuffs. “I have to take you into custody,” he said. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

  Elaine could see the Count’s reluctance before he finally complied. The Inquisitors laced their handcuffs with magic, ensuring that they did more than make it difficult for a person to escape. Any attempt to use magic, even the smallest spell, would result in immediate pain, flooding the mind and making it impossible for the captive to concentrate. No magician would be happy if he was deprived of the ability to work magic, even if it was the only way to guarantee his survival. But if he was guilty...

  She shook her head. Count Lucas would have had nothing to lose if he was guilty.

  The door swung open again and a string of half-naked women ran out, carrying whatever weapons they could. There was no sign of the soldiers who served in the Prince’s private army, but the slaves would be a serious problem. Or maybe not; the third set of Inquisitors stepped forward and started casting stunning spells towards the girls. They were defenceless, urged on only by their collars, and easy to take down. The guardsmen removed them at once, taking them to a hospital where the druids would remove their collars and take care of them. Once freed, they would definitely provide valuable intelligence; Elaine hoped that they could tell her what had happened to the slaves who had been freed earlier.

  And then Prince Hilarion himself walked out into the courtyard.

  Elaine knew something was badly wrong with him even before she met his eyes. His form was shifting rapidly, as if his body were warping and he was trying to use glamours to maintain a normal appearance. Lady Light Spinner had a stable, if mutilated form; she could tailor her spells to hide it. But the Prince was still trying to stabilise his body. She shivered as he started to twitch, as if hundreds of tiny spiders were running around him at the very edges of reality. Every time she tried to look directly at them, they seemed to slip back into the corner of her eye.

  “I am the Grand Sorcerer,” Prince Hilarion boomed. Beside her, Daria let out a suppressed snicker. Elaine elbowed her hard, realising that Prince Hilarion was completely mad. “I am your lord and master. Bow before me and I will let you live!”

  The waves of power surrounding him were terrifying. He might not have had the sheer presence of the late Grand Sorcerer, but the combination of raw power and mental compulsion was almost too strong to resist. Elaine felt her knees tremble; behind her, she heard several of the guardsmen falling to their knees. The remainder were backing away as quickly as possible, unwilling to face a maddened sorcerer. Even the Inquisitors seemed stunned, although Elaine could sense several of them weaving complex spells. There were ways to take down a sorcerer who was, in theory, more powerful than the rest of the world.

  “You have been infected by dark magic,” Dread said. Elaine understood, finally, why the Princess admired Dread, even felt a little attraction to him. Nothing really seemed to faze him, even the dangers of facing a mad sorcerer who could probably break through his wards and kill him with raw force. “Your Highness, try to think rationally. Is this really what you want?”

  Prince Hilarion seemed to stumble, as if the pressure pushing down on his fragile body was growing too powerful to endure. Dread’s voice stayed calm and reasonable as he spoke, trying to talk Prince Hilarion out of fighting the Inquisitors. The Prince was powerful, but maddened by the currents of magic flowing through his brain. Who knew what would make sense to someone who couldn’t think straight? Drunken men did crazy things...and this drunkard was as powerful as a minor god.

  Dread repeated his question as the Prince started to advance forward again, showing no fear at the monstrous sight. “Is this really what you want?”

  “Yes,” the Prince snarled, and blasted out a blinding white sheet of energy. Elaine thought for a horrified moment that Dread was dead, before realising that the Inquisitor had jumped to one side at the last moment. Her magical sensitivity almost drove her to her knees; Prince Hilarion had just unleashed enough power to wreck half the city and create a whole new Blight. Maybe she could beat him if she drew on the wild magic in the Blight...but there was no time. The Prince lashed out again and reality started to flicker, the Inquisitors shielding themselves as best they could. “I am the Grand Sorcerer!”

  Dread tossed a charm at the Prince’s back. It was a simple tickling charm, one that might be used by a trainee wizard teasing his best friend, one she wouldn’t have expected anyone to use against a maddened wizard. But Prince Hilarion spun around and unleashed another blast of light towards Dread, striking the mansion and blowing right through the magic infused into the stone. The front of the mansion started to collapse as Dread vanished in a flash of light, reappearing perched on top of the wall. Prince Hilarion pointed one twisted finger at him and threw another blast of magic, only to see Dread fall down behind the wall and the magic fly harmlessly off into the air.

  Another Inquisitor ran forward, zapped Prince Hilarion with a hex that older students learned and used to torment the lesser students. Prince Hilarion spun around, but before he could crush the Inquisitor like a bug another appeared out of nowhere. Elaine watched, barely able to comprehend the levels of magic Prince Hilarion was unleashing, but finally understanding what the Inquisitors were doing. That level of power should be enough to allow Prince Hilarion to win easily, if he had time to stop and think about what he was doing. They were keeping him off balance, forcing him to react emotionally rather than rationally. He was too maddened to even think through a way to use his vastly greater power to become Grand Sorcerer.

  An Inquisitor fell, knocked back by a wave of magic, but the others kept leaping in, striking out at him and then jumping back. Prince Hilarion’s hand flew off when one of the Inquisitors cut it with his sword, causing a mass of tainted magic to spill out of the wound. Someone who
had been to the Peerless School would have known basic charms to prevent wounds from growing any worse, if not directly healing them, but Prince Hilarion had never had a classical education. His magic was spewing out of control and harming him more than healing him.

  “You,” Prince Hilarion bellowed. He strode towards Elaine, brushing aside the Inquisitor who tried to distract him. His form seemed to be wavering now, as if...something from another dimension was trying to force itself into his body. Elaine could feel reality screaming in pain as the maddened Prince exerted his will. Some of the books in her head warned that there were entities out there, scratching at the walls of reality and trying to force their way into the human realm. “You did this to me.”

  Elaine stared, transfixed by fear, as Prince Hilarion reached out towards her. There was no longer anything remotely human about his body. The warps seemed to be reshaping him into a giant insect, almost a spider. She felt a hot trickle around her legs as the blood seemed to boil in her body, just before a dark-clad form caught her and hurled her away to safety. The shock of the impact jarred her back to reality, just in time to see the Inquisitor who had saved her being burned alive by Prince Hilarion. He seemed to be screaming in pain as fires tore through his head, yet somehow he remained alive, caught eternally on the very brink of death. Prince Hilarion was warping time around him, keeping him in mortal stasis...

  She reached into her knowledge for a spell, but nothing came to mind. He had to be drained...

  And then Dread rammed a sword through his neck, severing his head from his body. Prince Hilarion seemed to stop, stumbling to his knees...and then, horrifically, he seemed to reform into a single being of darkened light. Elaine cried out in horror as the ground started to shatter beneath her feet, just before the other Inquisitors joined in. They hacked the Prince to pieces faster than he could repair himself.