Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks

by Christopher Nuttall

  “It wasn’t a fake,” she said, quietly. Last year–it felt like decades ago–she’d used an illusion against an unknown opponent, someone she’d later assumed to be Lin. This time, the Death Viper had been real. “And...”

  She broke off as Nanette convulsed in pain. The nasty part of her just wanted to wait and watch as the poison slowly killed the older girl, but the rest of her was horrified at the thought of watching a person die. Somehow, she managed to cast a stunning spell before using a cutting spell to slice Nanette’s arm off at the elbow. She would hate Emily when she woke up, Emily knew, but it was better than death. Besides, the wound was already cauterized and a new arm could be grown through magic. She would be able to return to school if she wished.

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said, softly.

  She recalled the serpent to her wrist, then tried to push it back into its bracelet form. But the magic refused to work, either because she was exhausted or because she could sense the snake’s desire to remain in its normal form. Emily sighed, then picked up the snake and allowed it to rest on her shoulder, wrapping itself around her neck. For anyone else, it would be instantly fatal to allow a Death Viper so close to their brain. But as long as she was bonded to the snake, she knew it wouldn’t be able to hurt her, even accidentally. The rotting touch was no threat to her.

  Once, she knew, the mere thought of touching a snake would have been horrifying. Now, it felt natural.

  She stroked the snake’s head as she made her way down the carved passageways, past the monster lairs and into the large cavern before the sealed door. The key grew warm against her skin as she stepped towards the door; this time, her rune didn’t even change at all as she reached the metal barrier. There was no sign of a keyhole; it took her several seconds to realize that she had to press the key against the metal and let the magic work. It was a long chilling moment before the door finally opened, allowing her into the hidden section of Mountaintop.

  Inside, the air smelled musty, with a faint hint of decay, but it was brightly lit. Emily walked forward, down a stone corridor, and peered into the first chamber. It was empty, save for a stone table that reminded her of some of the stonework she’d seen in the Cairngorms. The next two chambers were the same, but the fourth held a girl lying on the table. Emily threw caution to the winds and ran towards the girl, recognizing the pigtails hanging down towards the floor.

  “Frieda,” she said.

  The girl was in a trance, Emily realized, as she reached her side. She would have thought Frieda was dead, save for the steady rise and fall of her chest. Someone had changed her clothes, putting her into a white robe that clung to her body in odd places, as if it was designed to make her seem more of a child than a girl old enough to use magic. Emily paused, considering options, then tried to cast a dispersal spell. It didn’t work.

  “She will remain sleeping until the time is right,” a familiar voice said. “And why are you here?”

  Emily turned to see Aurelius, standing at the door with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was grim, but calculating. Emily felt a flicker of fear as he studied her, no longer trying to be kind, and fought down the impulse to just slip away. If she hadn’t known there was nowhere to go, she might well have run.

  “I came to get my Shadow,” she said, firmly. The key seemed to turn icy cold, as if it didn’t want to be noticed. She had to fight the desire to remove it before her skin froze. “What are you doing to her?”

  “Using her,” Aurelius said. He beckoned to her to follow him, then turned and walked out of the door. When Emily didn’t move, he turned back to her and sighed. “You do realize I can make you walk, don’t you? There are no shortage of spells to compel obedience from unruly apprentices.”

  “I’m not your apprentice,” Emily said.

  “After today, you will be,” Aurelius said. He turned again, his voice echoing back to her ears. “Or dead. Follow me.”

  Emily forced herself to follow him, despite her growing fear. The key was growing colder, while the magic surrounding them was changing, becoming something different. If Aurelius noticed, he showed no reaction. Instead, he simply led her down into a large chamber...

  ...And Emily stopped, frozen in utter horror at the sight that greeted her eyes.

  “Welcome to the Heart of Mountaintop,” Aurelius said. He didn’t seem pleased or angry, merely amused. “A sight few have seen without swearing the right oaths.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  THE CHAMBER WAS HUGE, EASILY LARGE enough to serve as a second Great Hall. People–former students, she suspected–drifted high overhead, their faces twisted in agony as they were drained of their magic. Two of them, she realized to her horror, were familiar, both part of Frieda’s little rebellion. Below them, the MageMaster’s dying body lay on a table, surrounded by a small army of proctors. They were kneeling, as if they were at prayer, or worshipping the dying man. None paid any attention to either Emily or Aurelius.

  The process wasn’t Necromancy, she realized as she forced herself to think straight. A Necromancer drew his victim’s entire reserve of magic and life force out of his body in one wave of power, enough to drive the Necromancer insane if he hadn’t already been mad as a hatter. Here, the process was clearly under some form of control, allowing their power to be siphoned off and inserted into the wards protecting the school.

  “This is a giant ritual,” she said, recalling the ritual chamber Lady Barb had shown her, hidden below her house. “But I thought rituals had to be voluntary...”

  “They all swore their oaths,” Aurelius said, softly. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “They promised to come back to Mountaintop and offer their power, if necessary. Their oaths keep them working for us, even if they are expelled. This is the cruel necessity at the heart of Mountaintop.”

  “You’re sacrificing your students to power the school,” Emily said. She took a sharp breath as she realized it was worse than that. “No, not all of your students. You’re just sacrificing the common-born to maintain your power.”

  “The ones who cannot be fitted into our society,” Aurelius said. “They swore oaths when they entered the school.”

  Emily’s blood ran cold as she recalled the oath. I will put my magic at the school’s disposal, should I be called upon to serve...

  She’d assumed it meant fighting for the school. It had never crossed her mind that it might mean allowing herself to be used as a living power source.

  “And,” Emily asked, “did they know what they were swearing?”

  “They knew the potential risks,” Aurelius said. “Their oaths force them to open their power and allow it to be drained through the network.”

  “And when they are completely drained,” Emily said slowly, “they become proctors.”

  “Yes,” Aurelius said.

  Emily rounded on him. “You said that you wanted to fix the system,” she snapped. “This... this is horrifying!”

  “There is no choice,” Aurelius said. “We need a source of power to keep the school functional, Emily. There is no nexus point here, as you must have noticed, and the ones that remain active are heavily guarded. We see no option.”

  “You could make a deal with Red Rose,” Emily said, desperately. “There’s a nexus point there.”

  “They would not surrender it to us,” Aurelius said. He gave her a long considering look, then smiled coldly, without humor. “What would you suggest in its place?”

  Emily shook her head. She couldn’t think of anything... she understood their problem, but this was no way to solve it. They had to go through hundreds of students a year, sacrificing them all just to keep the school operational. How the hell had they managed to operate during the days of the Empire? And why had they even set the school up in such a poor location in any case?

  “You could take a little energy from all of the students,” she said, after a moment. “You’d have less from each person, but collectively you might have enough...”

  “N
ot enough,” Aurelius said. “Or so we believe.”

  “I think you didn’t mean a word you told me,” Emily bit off. She jerked backwards, forcing him to move his hand. “You don’t give a shit about the common-born magicians.”

  “Only in the abstract,” a weak voice said. The MageMaster lay on his back, but his head was turned towards the two younger magicians. “People are merely numbers if you have high ideals and low motives.”

  Aurelius glared at him. “And what did you do to change our society?”

  The MageMaster took a rasping breath. His body was failing rapidly, even though the oddly stretched appearance was gone. The soul magic must have been working overtime just to keep him alive, she deduced, pushing his body well beyond breaking point. Now, just like the former proctor, his true age was catching up with him. And if he was old enough to consider Void a friend, he had to be in his second century.

  “I did what I had to do,” the MageMaster said. He twisted his head until he was looking directly at Aurelius. “Our society is fragile, but balanced. A push from you may send it tipping over in the wrong direction.”

  “It is already falling in the wrong direction,” Aurelius hissed. “What will happen when the Necromancers come over the border?”

  “They will be stopped,” the MageMaster said.

  “By whom?” Aurelius demanded. “You? You’re a dead man! The only reason you’re still alive...”

  “...is so you could make sure there was a successor lined up before I died,” the MageMaster interrupted, sneering. “And now you’re playing your final card. You know I want to die. Here, you think I have no choice but to pass the wards to you.”

  Aurelius didn’t look surprised at the accusation. “And do you have a choice?”

  “You knew Emily could break the magic keeping me alive,” the MageMaster said. “She never swore the oaths that prevented you from striking at me, directly. You never ordered her to kill me, but you knew I would ask her to undo the magic. Very clever. Quite cold-blooded, but very clever.”

  Emily stared at him. “I didn’t mean to kill you...”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” the MageMaster rasped. “I knew what would happen even if you didn’t. And besides, I would have died months ago if they hadn’t kept me alive, the selfish bastards.”

  “We had no choice,” Aurelius said, stiffly.

  The MageMaster ignored him. “You must not become MageMaster,” he said. His voice grew weaker as he spoke. “You are too calculating. There will be rebellion against you soon enough and... you...”

  He paused, coughing. Bloody flecks appeared on his pillow.

  “There is no other choice,” Aurelius said. “Only one of the tutors has no agenda, Most Honored MageMaster. He would prefer to be working with his alchemical experiments, rather than make a bid for power.”

  Zed, Emily thought. Had he been working for King Randor because none of the Great Houses would consider sponsoring his experiments?

  “You must not,” the MageMaster said. “I...”

  There was a sudden flare of magic, then nothing.

  Emily stared, dully. The MageMaster had used up his remaining life to die on his own terms, having done the best he could to spite Aurelius. She honored him silently, then braced herself. She might have to run...

  “The MageMaster is dead,” Aurelius said, softly. Oddly, there was a hint of regret in his tone. “And I will take the wards.”

  He walked forward. The proctors made no attempt to bar his path as he strode to the bed and started searching the dead man’s body. Emily stepped back, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Aurelius realized she had the key, if he hadn’t suspected it from how easily she’d managed to enter the hidden complex. Magic flickered and flared through her senses as the MageMaster’s death accelerated the collapse of the wards. She heard a low roar in the distance, followed by a series of crashes. The sound made no sense to her.

  Aurelius stepped backwards, then turned to face her. “Emily,” he snarled, “give me the key!”

  Emily turned and ran. She’d almost reached the door when his magic caught her and yanked her back, pulling her into the air and flipping her upside down. Her dress remained in place, thankfully, but the key fell down into the open air. The Death Viper hissed and tightened its grip on her neck. Aurelius’s eyes went wide when he saw it–she couldn’t imagine how he’d missed the snake earlier–but showed no other reaction. Instead, he merely held out a hand.

  “Give me the key,” he ordered.

  “Fuck you,” Emily shouted. She was too angry to care that she was upside down, even though she had the sensation that the people floating high overhead could look up–down–her dress. “He didn’t want you to have it.”

  “Language,” Aurelius said, sharply. “Do you really think he meant for you to have it?”

  He gave it to me, Emily thought. But she suspected it wasn’t a good idea to say that out loud, not when the MageMaster might have transferred ownership to her as well as physical custody. Aurelius met her eyes, then moved his hand in a complex pattern. Emily felt a dullness fall over her mind, but it snapped a moment later.

  Emily allowed herself a moment of relief. Void’s protection against certain spells still held true, it seemed.

  “Interesting,” Aurelius said. “What would you like in exchange for the key?”

  “I don’t think you can meet my price,” Emily said. She tried to think of a way out, but nothing came to mind. Even the snake couldn’t hope to bite a wary magician. “He believed you weren’t suitable for the task.”

  Aurelius glared at her. “And what do you believe?”

  “I think he was right,” Emily said. “You claim to care about the common-born magicians–and yes, you gave one of them fantastic opportunities to prove herself. But you also sacrificed uncounted millions of them to power the school.”

  “Several hundred, at most,” Aurelius said. He sounded irked, either by her defiance or her exaggeration. “Give me the key.”

  Emily–childishly–stuck out her tongue. A moment later, she screamed in pain as the torture curse hit her. Every atom of her body felt like it was on fire. Beside her, the snake was in agony too, either struck by the same curse or picking up on her pain through the familiar bond. She tried to focus her mind, telling herself that she was not going to stand for it, before the next wave of pain swept her thoughts away.

  Aurelius stopped the pain after what felt like hours, watching dispassionately as Emily twitched and moaned, then cast the spell again. This time, if anything, the pain was far worse.

  “There are nastier curses I can use,” he said. The pain stopped, then started again. And again. “Give me the key!”

  The spell holding Emily in place snapped, suddenly. Emily fell, his magic barely catching her before she hit the stone floor. The Death Viper hissed and uncurled from her neck, sliding down her shirt. He strode over to her and tore the key from her neck, then kicked her in the ribs. Emily gasped in pain, trying desperately to summon a painkilling spell or even just slip into a healing trance, but the pain made it impossible. Her stomach hurt so badly she had a nasty suspicion that he’d broken a rib or two. Or unleashed a curse that destroyed the stomach’s lining, releasing the acid to burn its way through her body. Or...

  “I don’t think I like you anymore,” she managed to say. She had to swallow hard to keep herself from throwing up. If she’d eaten since the ill-fated feast, she suspected she would have thrown up anyway, no matter how hard she tried to hold it in. “Is this how you will treat Nanette once she outlives her usefulness?”

  “Be silent,” Aurelius said. “If you will not help me, you will remain here until you swear your oaths.”

  He held the key in his hand, stroking it gently. Emily felt the magic twisting around him, drawn to the key, but it didn’t seem right. She forced herself to lie still as the magic grew stronger, shimmering through in the air. Aurelius had taken the key by force; she hadn’t given it to him willingly. And that, sh
e suspected, would make all the difference. Aurelius held the key high in the air and started to chant loudly, using words from a language Emily didn’t know. The magic grew stronger...

  ...And lashed out at him.

  Aurelius screamed in pain and disbelief as the magic poured into his very soul. Emily stared, horrified, as his body flared with light, magic spilling everywhere. It wasn’t his key, she thought numbly; he’d never anticipated the MageMaster transferring ownership as well as the key itself. And the only way to take ownership would have been to kill Emily and take the key from her corpse. If he’d thought of it before he took the key....

  The noise grew louder. Emily looked up to see the expelled students screaming in pain, blood spilling from their eyes, ears and noses, falling to the chamber floor. She desperately tried to cast a spell to catch the nearest one, but her magic refused to respond. They were dying, she realized in horror; the network was killing them, rather than let them go.

  She turned her attention back to Aurelius, just in time to see his body glow white and fall to the ground, releasing the last of his magic into the wards. The first MageMaster had built a remarkable safety precaution, she realized numbly, as she forced herself to her feet. Anyone who tried to use the key without permission would have their magic sucked out of them, leaving them powerless. Or dead.

  She covered her ears as the screaming grew louder, then half-walked, half-crawled towards Aurelius. The former Administrator was lying on the floor, unconscious. She knelt down next to him and examined his body as best as she could, but most of the damage was clearly magical, rather than mundane wounds. Blood leaked from his nose, staining his robes. Emily, warily, picked up the key and felt it hum in approval. Magic crackled around it, inviting her to lift up the key herself and call the magic into her very soul. She could become MageMaster. She could take on the role, rather than risk passing the key to someone with a political agenda.