“I don’t think she thought of it,” Master Bone said. “Or maybe the original deal was one she couldn’t undo. The unwary are often suckered into mistakes.”
“You can never trust a demon,” Emily said. She’d learnt that the hard way. “They twist things in their favor.”
“No,” Master Bone agreed. He shot her an unreadable look. “You can’t.”
There was a loud tapping on the door. It burst open a moment later, revealing Sir Albright.
“General,” he said. “A horseman just galloped into the city. The enemy army is on the move!”
General Pollack rose. “Coming here?”
“Yes, General,” Sir Albright said. “They’ll be here in less than an hour!”
Emily closed her eyes for a long moment. The necromancer had finally made his move. His spy was dead ... had he decided to move now? Or had he decided she was overrated, after Casper had beaten her in a duel? No, she didn’t believe it. This necromancer had proven himself to be devious. He was clearly following a plan of his own.
She opened her eyes and looked from face to face. The older men looked grim, while the younger men seemed torn. Casper and Cat looked determined, Cyprian and Sawford looked eager ... and Gaius showed no reaction, none at all. She hoped that meant he was hiding his concern. They might not survive the coming day.
“Well,” Gaius said, into the silence. “Now we go to war.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
THEY SMELLED THE ADVANCING ARMY LONG before it came into view, a strange mixture of utterly alien — and unpleasant — scents carried by the wind. Emily stood on the battlements beside Sergeant Miles, using a spell to watch as the army marched closer. Her stomach turned as she saw the orcs: their eyes were filled with hatred and rage, their weapons glinting under the moonlight. Beside them, smaller humans walked, their faces oddly twisted. It looked as though they’d been mutated by magic. Some of them were so badly deformed that she honestly didn’t understand how they were still alive.
Magic, she thought. There were spells to keep the dying alive, but they had their limits. How does it work?
“They’re slowing,” Sergeant Miles commented. “I think they’re not going to risk an engagement at night.”
He was right. The advancing horde was slowing, breaking up into two sets as it spread out to envelope Farrakhan. There were enough of them — more than enough — to join hands and encircle the city, with thousands more held in reserve. It wouldn’t be long before the city was completely isolated, the surrounding towns and villages laid waste. She hoped, desperately, that their inhabitants had already fled. Farrakhan would be safer than remaining in their homes, at least for the moment.
But that will change once they challenge the defenses, she mused. And they will have to challenge the defenses.
“They’ve got archers,” Master Grave added. He sounded surprised. “Keep your heads down.”
Emily nodded. Farrakhan was darker than any earthly city — there were no glowing electric lights — but it would only take a moment for an archer to spot a man on the walls and put an arrow through his head. She tightened her wards automatically, knowing they might not be enough to stop a charmed arrow. Hell, for all she knew, the orcs might just start firing randomly into the city. They’d certainly force the population to keep their heads down.
The smell grew stronger as the wind shifted, blowing sand across the walls. She couldn’t help wondering if the orcs were bringing desolation in their wake, as if the entire kingdom was slowly dying while the desert crawled north. Perhaps that was the real threat, a mass collapse of their entire ecosystem. A necromancer could be fought — a necromancer could be killed — but how did one fight an expanding desert? How could one bring life back to the land?
They’d need to plant better crops, she thought. She’d heard about expanding deserts on Earth, but she couldn’t remember the details. And the devastation of every farm for hundreds of miles around probably doesn’t help.
She made a mental note to use a memory charm to recover what little she knew, then peered over the walls again. The orcs were standing still ... no, some of them were maintaining their formation while others were digging trenches. It would give them some protection, if — when — they started their assault. She would be surprised if they hadn’t brought shields and ladders along with them too. It was fairly standard for the Nameless World, when magic wasn’t involved. Generals had to shield their forces from arrows, or they’d be turned into pincushions before they reached the walls.
“They’re depressingly well organized,” Sergeant Miles noted. “I don’t think they’re going to lose control.”
“It looks that way,” Master Grave agreed. He lifted a hand. “We could hex them.”
“That would waste magic,” Sergeant Miles said, severely. He glanced at Emily. “Can you sense the necromancer?”
Emily reached out with her senses. The masters were easy to sense, even though they were masking their power, but beyond them ... nothing. She couldn’t sense the necromancer. And yet, there was a faint... haze ... in the air, confusing her. It felt almost as if someone was crafting raw magic to hide their presence. The necromancer might be on the other side of the battlements, but she couldn’t sense him.
“No,” she said, finally.
She probed the haze, trying to comprehend it. The technique was completely unfamiliar, very different from the counter-surveillance spells she’d learned over the past few days. Was it something from Heart’s Eye? Or was the necromancer merely trying to blind them by pumping out raw power? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have power to spare. There were flickers of light — of power — within the haze, but nothing she could pin down. The entire army was covered in mist.
“I can’t see through the haze,” she said. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Sergeant Miles said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Emily frowned. “Ask Master Highland if he ever heard of anything like it at Heart’s Eye?”
“Good thought,” Sergeant Miles said. He sounded distracted. Thankfully, he was too distracted to realize she’d forgotten to call him Master. “I’ll send him a message.”
Casper and Gaius appeared, both carrying staffs. “They’ve surrounded the whole city,” Gaius said, briskly. “So far, there’s no report of them doing anything hostile.”
“Except for laying siege to Farrakhan,” Casper pointed out. He peered over the battlements, carefully. “Should we not attack them first?”
“There’s too many of them,” Sergeant Miles said. His voice was very firm. “Anyone we sent out to fight would be chopped to ribbons, even with magic.”
Emily glanced at Casper. He definitely sounded happier. But suggesting a frontal assault on the enemy lines ... she wasn’t sure that was a good sign. She’d just have to wait and see what happened.
“So we’re trapped,” Gaius said. He sounded resigned. “What happens now?”
“We wait,” Sergeant Miles said. “They’ll launch their attack soon enough, probably at daybreak. The general is already sending a third of his men to sleep.”
Emily felt a flicker of sympathy for the soldiers. They wouldn’t be able to sleep properly, not with a large army on the far side of the walls. They’d know as well as she did that it was only a matter of time before the offensive began. And yet, they needed their rest. They’d serve as the reserve, ready to reinforce the lines when they started to crumble.
She glanced at Sergeant Miles as Cat hurried up to them. “Where do you want us to go?”
“I want you, Casper and Cat to go back to the barracks and get some rest,” Sergeant Miles ordered. “Use timed sleeping charms — not potions. And make sure your wards are thin. We might have to wake you.”
Emily hesitated. If she thinned out her wards ... she might as well sleep naked. She trusted Cat, she supposed, but she wasn’t sure she trusted the rest of the apprentices. Someone could easily put a spell on her while she slept. And yet, she knew she
had no choice. A sleeping charm could be broken easily, if necessary. Potions were far harder to counter.
She scrambled down from the battlements and followed the two boys through the darkened streets. The civilians were running in all directions, shouting and screaming as they realized that the city was under attack. She caught sight of a middle-aged woman screaming at a man — demanding to know why he hadn’t taken his family and fled the city — before they were both lost in the crowd. Children ran everywhere; some terrified, some treating it as a demented game. It was a relief when they reached the barracks, now guarded by armed soldiers. The servants on the lower floor looked scared out of their wits.
Emily left Cat to comfort them and walked back to her bedroll. She could still feel the haze outside, feel it twisting and curling in a maddeningly unpredictable manner. It didn’t seem to be actively hostile, not like misdirection wards or subtle magic; it merely seemed to disrupt her ability to sense magic. And yet, it had to be powerful if she could still sense it. She couldn’t help wondering if someone had managed to find a way to power subtle magic with active magic.
No, she told herself firmly. It’s too powerful for any runes to handle.
She mulled it over as she lay back on the bed, carefully weakening her wards just enough to allow someone to wake her. It still felt like she was going to bed naked ... maybe Cat and Casper would be fine, but what about Sawford? Or Cyprian? She didn’t know the sixth apprentice very well. He’d shown no interest in either befriending her or picking fights with her.
Maybe they cast the runes in something stronger than iron, she mused, as Cat entered the room. Steel is rare here ... at least until we can invent a way to produce it cheaply. Or what about something stronger?
“Emily,” Cat said. “You know how to put yourself to sleep?”
Emily smiled. “Listen to hours of bragging from a team captain?”
“Yep,” Cat said. He made a show of launching into a story. “So there I was, seventeen goals down, half my team turned into frogs because the referee wasn’t looking in the right direction ...”
“And then you scored fifty goals in ten seconds and won the match single-handedly,” Emily finished. Alassa was fond of telling absurd stories too. It seemed to be a common trait for team captains. “Yes, I do know how to put myself to sleep.”
“Just make sure you can be woken,” Cat said, as he lay down on his own bed. Casper was already snoring loudly. “And don’t wake before then.”
Emily shrugged. A sleeping charm would keep her asleep for seven hours or thereabouts, unless the spell was broken earlier. She’d heard several horror stories about idiotic magicians who’d accidentally put themselves to sleep forever, but none of them seemed particularly plausible. The sleeping charm wasn’t good at coping with discomfort. Her bladder would drive her back into the waking world, whatever happened.
She cast the spell, forcing herself to relax as sleep overcame her. And then her entire body jerked, forcing her to sit up. Her mind spun, just for a second. Someone was standing beside her bedroll, just on the far side of the wards. She was so confused that she almost panicked, lashing out with her magic. What had she been doing yesterday?
Dueling, she reminded herself. Her body still ached. And doing thousands of press-ups.
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles hissed. “Wake up.”
Emily rolled over and out of bed. “Get your leathers on,” Sergeant Miles ordered. He shoved a canteen of water at her. “Hurry.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily managed. Her throat felt as dry as the desert. She sipped the water gratefully, then pulled her leathers on over her clothes. They would provide some protection, she knew, although they were far from perfect. But anything tougher would have made it impossible to move. “What ... what time is it?”
“We have an hour until dawn,” Sergeant Miles said. “The others will be woken soon.”
Emily frowned. Cat, Casper, Cyprian and Sawford were sleeping, their snores echoing through the room. There was no sign of Gaius. She wondered if he was still helping his master or if he’d found somewhere else to sleep. The former, probably. She dreaded to think what Sergeant Miles would say if he caught her slacking off.
She splashed some water on her face, then followed him down towards the streets. A faint glimmer of light could be seen over the horizon, but the streets were still dark. Most of the refugees were gone, the remainder hiding in side-streets and alleyways. A handful of guards were holding position, nowhere near enough to control the streets. The remainder, she suspected, would be on the walls or trying to get some sleep.
“We’ll be in the watchtower,” Sergeant Miles said, as they reached the inner set of fortifications. A scant month ago, the elaborate stone fortresses would have seemed like paranoia. Now, Emily knew they might not be enough. “You’ll be held in reserve, along with the other apprentices.”
“Unless the necromancer shows his ugly face,” Emily said, quietly. She could still feel the haze, looming over the battlements. “Is he out there?”
“We don’t know,” Sergeant Miles said. “We haven’t been able to pick out his location.”
Emily sucked in her breath as they started to climb the steps. A necromancer should have been bleeding power all over the place, making himself instantly obvious. He should have been an electric floodlight in the darkness. But she couldn’t sense his presence, nor could anyone else. Was he even there? She’d thought he would accompany his army, but she might have been wrong.
But he was capturing people for sacrifice, she mused. He can’t be far away.
She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into the darkness. The city was dark, but there were bonfires on the other side of the battlements ... she shuddered, knowing all too well what the orcs were roasting for breakfast. Or perhaps it was the twisted humans. If there was anything that could poison an orc, the Allied Lands had yet to find it. They could eat practically anything, including their own flesh.
There has to be a way to wage biological warfare against them, she thought. But they could wage it against us far more effectively.
The sound of digging and hammering echoed over the city, a mocking reminder that the orcs hadn’t stopped working since their arrival. She cast a night-vision spell and peered into the darkness, picking out swarms of orcs preparing trenches or readying their weapons for the coming slaughter. Hundreds of them were dancing around the bonfires, singing and chanting as they steeled themselves for war. Her translation spell couldn’t make heads or tails of their language. Perhaps she was just out of range.
“They’ll start trying to dig under the walls,” she predicted.
“Quite possibly,” Sergeant Miles agreed. “Or get their own people over the wall.”
Emily nodded. The orcs didn’t seem to care about their own lives. If worse came to worst, they could simply scramble up over the bodies of their former comrades and carry the walls, then try to gain control of a gate. Or they could wait for their master to use magic to knock down the walls. Whitehall could have held, if necessary. Farrakhan’s wards were puny in comparison. Emily could have sneaked into the city without undue difficulty. The necromancer would have no trouble at all blowing a hole in the walls.
But that would reveal his presence, she thought. But then, he doesn’t have much reason to worry about showing us where he is.
She took the sandwich Sergeant Miles offered her and munched on it, gratefully. Her stomach rumbled, even though she’d eaten plenty before the enemy army had arrived. Had it really been only twelve hours ago that the apprentices and their masters had sat and chatted like friends? And now the city was under siege.
“Master Grey was supposed to teach you about Wildfire,” Sergeant Miles said, quietly. He sat next to her, never taking his eyes off the orcs. “Did he?”
“He did,” Emily confirmed. The memory of white tongues of fire still made her shudder in horror. “He said it would burn until it ran out of raw magic.”
“Correct,” Sergeant Miles said. “Did he also tell you how it was made?”
Emily probed her memory. “Seven separate potions, put together — not stirred — then warmed,” she recalled. “He didn’t teach me how to make them.”
“Very few people can,” Sergeant Miles said. He turned his head and nodded towards a small knapsack. “The seven potions are here. If we have no other choice, we will use them to attack the necromancer. If that happens ...”
“Run for our lives,” Emily said. She’d seen the white fire reaching for her, tendrils of brilliant light questing for her magic. “It sees us as fuel.”
“And so it can spread out of control very quickly,” Sergeant Miles warned. “If that happens, we’ll need to bury it in sand before it burns down the entire city. Bucket brigades have already been formed.”
Emily nodded. “Maybe we could make the necromancer remain still,” she said. “Turn the ground to quicksand — or to a bog. Or find a freeze spell that will hold him still long enough for the Wildfire to kill him.”
“I doubt it,” Sergeant Miles said. “He may not understand what’s happening, but he will certainly identify the threat and run. He’s certainly powerful enough to throw off most freeze spells.”
Shadye didn’t recognize the danger, Emily thought. But by the time it was clear, it was too late for him to run.
She swallowed, hard. They could die today. The city was surrounded. They hadn’t had the time to set up a portal and she was unsure what would happen if she tried to teleport. The haze’s mere presence might just throw her spells completely out of alignment. And who knew what would happen then? She wished, suddenly, that she’d had more time to talk to Caleb. She hadn’t even told him about Casper’s sudden promotion.
He’s going to hate it, she told herself. She wondered if Caleb would ever forgive her. She’d given Casper bragging rights for the next few months, even if he lost the very next duel. But Casper might grow up because of it.
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 22