The Great Game (Royal Sorceress)

by Nuttall, Christopher

  “Splendid,” Sir James said, rubbing his hands together. “You know, you really should spend more time with us, rather than the committee. They’re dreadfully boring.”

  “You’re on the committee,” Gwen pointed out.

  “I’m an exception,” he assured her. “And I won’t be there for much longer. The Iron Duke will find a magician who can speak for the military and I’ll go back on active service.”

  Gwen nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she said. It had been months since she’d last gone through the gauntlet. It was designed for small groups, not a single magician who could evade most of the traps with ease. “How many of the traps are you going to leave there?”

  “None,” Sir James said. “Just you and us. How does that sound?”

  “Fun,” Gwen said. One way or another, she could let off her frustrations – and no one could object, at least not publicly. There were no other Master Magicians, after all. “See if you can pin me down.”

  “We won’t hold back,” Sir James assured her, mock-seriously. “We know how dangerous women can be.”

  “Out,” Gwen said, unable to hide her amusement. “I’ll catch up with the paperwork tonight and give you the whole morning tomorrow.”

  She watched him go, then turned back to the papers, working her way through them one by one. Nothing seemed to be out of place, but still... she worried that, one day, she would sign away something important. And yet if the paperwork kept rising up, she would eventually be buried under the weight.

  “Boring,” she muttered aloud. “I need something else to do.”

  Chapter Seven

  Gwen couldn’t help a thrill of anticipation as she washed, dressed and ate breakfast the following morning. The Royal Sorcerer was supposed to be a fighter, but she’d done very little fighting since the end of the Swing and she was surprised to discover just how much she’d missed it. Fighting was rough and tumble, with the very real danger of serious injury... and yet it was much simpler than the political and bureaucratic skirmishes she had to wage every day. Even the prospect of taking on Britain’s foremost team of combat magicians couldn’t dull her excitement.

  Several buildings near Cavendish Hall had been destroyed during the Swing, allowing the Royal College to snap them up in the aftermath and add their grounds to the training area. One of the buildings was being rebuilt to serve as extra living space for the magicians and their servants; the other piles of debris had been taken away or used to help build the Gauntlet. On the face of it, it was nothing more than a makeshift village – more of a hamlet – that served as the training ground. Anyone who walked into the hamlet without taking due precautions, however, would swiftly wind up in trouble. The hamlet was designed to trap magicians.

  We’re not invincible, Gwen reminded herself, as Sir James escorted her around the edge of the hamlet to where she would enter the Gauntlet. Merlin would enter from the other side, with instructions to capture Gwen before she could make it out. Excited as she was, she also knew that she could get hurt; the six combat magicians who made up the team wouldn’t hold back, and they were far more experienced than Gwen herself.

  “I’d wish you luck,” Sir James said, “but...”

  Gwen had to smile. “I understand,” she said, dryly. “I could always wish you bad luck, couldn’t I?”

  Sir James laughed and walked away. Gwen watched him go and then turned her attention back to the Gauntlet. The edge of the training area was marked by trees, each one large enough to provide a surprising amount of cover – and conceal the training exercise from prying eyes. No one was supposed to enter until they got the word, whereupon... she’d have to get through it, rather than just beat the combat magicians. She could take out five of them and still lose.

  Choose your attacks carefully, she reminded herself. And try to shape them towards the person you’re fighting.

  She shook her head and waited. Patience might be a virtue, as her mother had remarked more than once, but it wasn’t one of hers. How long would it take for Merlin to get ready to move?

  A thought touched her mind. Go.

  Bracing herself, Gwen stepped through the trees and into the hamlet, crouching low. A handful of buildings, none of them much larger than a backyard shed, greeted her, providing a limited amount of cover. But anyone who relied on them for safety would run into trouble; the tall grasses surrounding them concealed hidden pitfalls and other dangers. Concentrating, she tried to pull an illusion of nothingness around her. It wouldn’t make her completely invisible, certainly not in broad daylight, but it should make her harder to see.

  She briefly considered throwing herself into the air and making a run for the far edge – she would win by escaping, even if they all survived without being taken out – before dismissing the idea. It wouldn’t work, not when there was absolutely no cover in the air. They’d see her and then their Movers would pull her out of the sky. Or simply disrupt her magic and let gravity do the rest.

  In the distance, she could hear the sounds of birds calling as she inched forward. She couldn’t hear anything that suggested that Merlin was advancing on her position, which suggested that they were sticking close to the exit. It made sense, she knew; they won by stopping her and she had to reach the exit to win. Sweat trickled down her face as she kept moving, reaching out with her senses. If there was someone lying in wait, she might just be able to sense them before they jumped her.

  Nothing materialised to block her path. She passed two small buildings, carefully checking them out from a distance, yet there was nothing. Where were they? The third building seemed, just for a moment, to be occupied, before she realised that she was sensing a fox, hiding out in the city. There was more wildlife in London than many people realised. She smiled... and then she sensed their presence.

  She closed her eyes, concentrating. There were at least two magicians ahead of her, but she couldn’t tell which ones. Sir James was smart and experienced; who would he send forward to flush her out? Gwen would have sent the Blazers, knowing that they’d have the best chance to win quickly. But it was quite possible that he had something else in mind. And there was no time to think.

  Quickly, she created an illusion of herself and sent it forward. It wasn’t quite right, but if they acted quickly they wouldn’t have time to realise it. There was a brilliant flash of light as one of the Blazers shot a beam of magic at the illusion, exposing his own position in the process. Gwen fired a beam of her own back at him and heard a handful of colourful curses, none of them suitable for female ears. Tagged, the Blazer would have no choice, but to withdraw.

  She pulled her magic around her, forming a protective bubble, and ran forwards. The second magician was infusing magic into the ground, preparing a minefield. Gwen saw the magic destabilising and threw herself into the air, rising up as quickly as she could. The ground exploded with blue fire a moment later, a trick she’d seen before, but rarely performed so well. If she’d been a mere Blazer, she would have been caught in that second.

  A powerful force struck her bubble and sent her falling back towards the ground. She pulled the bubble around her as strongly as she could, then winced in pain as she felt the feedback when the bubble hit the ground. It popped a moment later, forcing her to concentrate to re-establish it. She hesitated, then ran around the building, almost running right into another Mover. He wrapped his own bubble around him as she fired another blast of magic into his face, then ramped up the brightness. Gwen heard him curse as he covered his eyes, fighting to maintain his bubble. She drew on her magic and skimmed away across the ground, hoping that he’d be too distracted to notice that she’d gone, at least for a few seconds.

  Flames roared up in front of her and she stopped dead, before realising that they had to be an illusion. The other Blazer was a skilled master of illusions, according to his files; flames were simple, easy to produce. She ran through them, feeling nothing, and looked around for the Blazer. He was nowhere to be seen... and yet he couldn’t be too
far away. Very few illusions lasted longer than a few seconds if the magician just left them alone.

  Idiot, she told herself, a moment later. She called on her magic and blazed away, lashing out at random. The Blazer was so skilful that he could probably hide in plain sight. A moment later, he fired back at her, clearly aware that there was no place to hide. Gwen smiled as it bounced off her bubble, then struck him with her own beam. He made a show of collapsing to the ground, dead.

  “STOP,” a voice barked. “FREEZE!”

  Gwen froze as the command slammed into her mind. The Charmer, she realised; he must have been waiting for a chance to Charm me.

  She cursed inwardly, fighting the command. It was powerful, more powerful than anything she’d experienced before, even from Lord Blackburn. But the more obvious it was that someone was using Charm, the easier it was to fight it. Magic sparkled in front of her and his control over her body snapped, allowing her to jump forward and throw herself right at the Charmer. He lifted a hand, as if he expected her to hit him with her fists, and she knocked him into a wall with her magic. She watched him crumble to the ground...

  ... Something wrapped around her legs and pulled, hard. Gwen lost her balance and started to fall, before realising that she was dangling from an invisible rope. Sir James had finally shown himself, slipping his power through her defences while she took care of his team mates – he was good at it. Gwen thought desperately as she saw him, standing in the middle of the grassy field, daring her to stop him before it was too late. Catching sight of some rubble on the ground, she picked it up with her magic and hurled it towards him.

  Her aim was bad and she missed, but the debris came close enough to force him to lose his concentration and Gwen had a moment to break free. She fell towards the ground, barely catching herself before she would have landed badly. Even Lucy, the most skilled Healer in the Corps, wouldn’t have been able to put her back together again. Gwen picked herself off the ground and threw a powerful bolt of magic towards Sir James. He might have been only a Mover, but he blocked it effortlessly. A moment later, he threw the debris back towards her.

  Gwen muttered unladylike words under her breath as the debris bounced off her bubble. Sir James had taken advantage of her distraction to run towards her, slamming his power directly into hers. She winced in pain as her bubble wavered under the pressure; he had much more experience with his specific power, even if she possessed the full power set. He winked at her, then altered his magic. His protective bubble became a set of needles poking into her bubble. Gwen stared in disbelief. She’d never even thought that was possible.

  For a second, absolute panic held her spellbound, then she threw herself backwards as her bubble started to collapse. Sir James pushed forward, refusing to give her any time to recover; Gwen forced herself to push the remains of her bubble right at him. The magic hadn’t faded completely, turning the remnants into needle-sharp fragments that sliced into his protections. But they weren’t powerful enough to overcome him completely.

  She lifted her hand, generating light again... but Sir James just kept coming forward, covering his eyes. He might not have the powers of a Sensitive, yet he didn’t need them; his power pervaded the air, allowing him to locate her without much difficulty. She gritted her teeth, reached out with her magic and tore into the ground, pulling up great clods of earth and throwing them at him. The effort strained her to the limit, but forced him to slow down, just long enough for Gwen to turn and run. If she could find cover, just for a second...

  A flash of light passed over her head, narrowly missing her. The other Blazer, she realised; a confident man who’d impressed her more than she’d wanted to admit. She twisted and threw magic back at him, but he ducked and evaded it. Cursing, Gwen pulled a new bubble around herself and fired a second blast at the blazer. And then Sir James caught her again.

  Not this time, she thought, as his magic wrapped around hers and lifted her up into the air, despite her protective bubble. He flipped her upside down... did he really think that would discomfit her? She’d learned how to fly, even upside down, months ago. Gwen concentrated and hardened her bubble, feeling his magic crawling over hers. This time, he wouldn’t be able to break her protections so quickly...

  ... And then his magic flickered. Gwen frowned, puzzled, just as the pressure on her started to intensify. How could anyone generate so much power? It would take... she saw it a moment later and cursed her own mistake. She should have made sure that the other Mover was down and out before she ran into Sir James. There were two of them pouring pressure on her shield. She shuddered as she felt their magic crowding her, shaping needles that were slowly burning into her bubble. It wouldn’t be long before it popped and she was defenceless...

  Desperately, she called on her Charm.

  “Let me go,” she ordered, pushing as much power into her words as she could. “Let me go!”

  The pressure lessoned, just long enough for her to hope that she’d succeeded, then tightened again. Naturally; Merlin had a Charmer on the team and they would have practised resistance until Charm barely affected them. Gwen had done the same, although she was far less practised. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold out, but she was rapidly reaching the limits of her endurance. And then her bubble burst and she fell.

  Sir James caught her a moment before she hit the ground, slowing her fall so she landed gently. She felt his magic crawling over her, holding her down, as he walked over towards her and tapped her on the forehead.

  “I think we win,” he said. He had the grace to sound a little ashamed about it. “But you didn’t do badly,”

  Gwen could barely move, even after Sir James’s magic had faded away. She didn’t think that she was physically injured, beyond a number of minor bruises that would heal quickly, but she was completely exhausted. And he thought that she hadn’t done badly? If she’d had to face Master Thomas alone, she would have been beaten in short order. She took the hand he held out to her and allowed him to help her to her feet, feeling the world blurring around her.

  “Here,” Sir James said. He pushed something against her mouth and she sipped gratefully. “Drink this.”

  The water tasted pure and, at that moment, like ambrosia. Gwen leaned on him long enough to recover her bearings, then gently let go of his arm. He gave her an understanding look; she didn’t dare show weakness in front of the committee. If she gave them any excuse to think of her as a weak and feeble woman...

  I almost won, she told herself, angrily. I’d like to see the Committee do so well.

  But she knew that it wouldn’t matter.

  “You would have beaten any one of us,” the Charmer said. Gwen couldn’t remember his name at the moment, if only because she preferred to have as little to do with Charmers as she could. “We had to work together to overwhelm you.”

  “And should have stayed closer together,” Sir James grunted. He looked tired too; Gwen felt a little better when she saw the sweat dripping off his brow. “We could have won quicker if we hadn’t wanted to catch you away from the exit.”

  Gwen pulled herself upright as they stepped through the trees and out onto the lawn. Refusing to waste such a fine day, the cooks had offered to prepare a garden lunch for the magicians and Gwen had accepted, before realising just how worn out she was going to be after the fighting. It had really been too long since she’d fought properly. Perhaps she could convince Lord Mycroft to keep Merlin in London for a few more months. There were other teams of combat magicians and India didn’t need them as much as Britain.

  She pushed the thought aside as she sat down on one of the rugs and accepted a chicken leg and a bowl of salad from one of the servants. Sir James joined her and chatted happily about nothing, while two of his team mates went over to the students and started telling them exaggerated stories – or at least Gwen hoped they were exaggerated – about service in India with the British Army. Most of the new recruits would go to the army afterwards, Gwen knew; the threat of war could not be di
sregarded, even on such a lovely day.

  “You did extremely well,” Sir James said, loudly. “You came very close to beating us.”

  Gwen glanced at him in surprise, then realised that Lord Brockton had come close enough to listen to them without making it obvious. Praise from Sir James for her wouldn’t make Lord Brockton feel any better, but at least it would make him less sure of his allies on the Committee. Gwen looked back at Sir James and wondered if she could count him an ally – and, if so, for how long. He wouldn’t remain in London indefinitely.

  Perhaps His Lordship should consider himself lucky, she thought, ruefully. Master Thomas would have killed him by now.

  She finished eating, said her goodbyes and walked back into Cavendish Hall, heading back to her suite. Martha had, thankfully, already laid out another suit; Gwen simply had to undress, wash herself quickly and then get dressed again. Her body was covered with bruises, as she had expected, but they would heal quickly. There was no point in asking Lucy to Heal them.

  There was a frantic tapping at the door. “Come in,” Gwen called.

  A maid, panting slightly, stepped into the room. “Your Ladyship,” she said, between gasps. “Lord Mycroft has arrived in his carriage. He requests that you accompany him.”

  Gwen blinked in surprise. Lord Mycroft rarely changed his routine for anything or anyone, even the King. Whatever the matter was, it had to be urgent. War? Had France declared war?

  “I’ll grab my coat,” she said. Thankfully, she was washed, dried and dressed. She didn’t want to ride in a stuffy carriage while she was still unclean. “Tell him I’ll be with him in two minutes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Are we at war?”

  Lord Mycroft regarded Gwen gravely as she climbed into the carriage and sat down facing him.

  “Not yet, but we could be soon,” he said. He rang a bell and the carriage lurched into life, the coachman cracking the whip to make the horses move faster. “A situation has developed that requires your presence.”