Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Emily stepped forward until she was standing right in front of the mirror. Her reflection gazed back. Emily studied herself again, silently grateful she couldn’t see any differences. The reflection was a reflection, not an alternate vision of herself. Her other self was dead, or trapped on the wrong side of the dimensional barriers. She’d studied every book she could find on mirror magic and none of them had gone any further than shaping a pocket world on the other side of the mirror. The meeting with alternate timelines was - apparently - unprecedented. It was unlikely she’d meet her other self here.

  She looked up and down, from tip to toe. She was encompassed within the mirror. The wall behind her looked utterly bare, sensibly so. There’d be nothing and no one else to be caught up within the spell. Void had said it was possible to cast the spell with a smaller mirror, or no mirror at all, but it was better to start small. Emily’s lips twitched. It was rather like learning to juggle and starting with knives and daggers, rather than chainsaws. The danger was only minimized in comparison. It didn’t go away.

  “Start the spell when you’re ready.” Void’s voice was very quiet. He’d masked his power so thoroughly she couldn’t sense his presence. It was hard to remember he was there, though he’d told her - time and time again - not to consider trying the spell without him. “Or step back, if you’re not up to it.”

  Emily lifted her head and looked into her reflection’s eyes. Magic sparkled through her, pervading every cell of her body. She’d grown more and more used to thinking of it as a part of her, as much her as her arms and legs. It was a danger as well as a boon, Void had cautioned, but... it was hard to believe it could be dangerous. And yet, she knew it. The danger of forgetting how she did things - and then losing the ability to improve upon her spells - was very real. And if she fell into that trap, she’d peak. She’d never get any better.

  The spell glimmered in her mind, a remarkably complex piece of magic. She’d seen the spellwork back in her first year, but... she hadn’t been able to follow it, let alone cast it. Now... she could see how the different sections interacted, how they worked together to create a duplicate of herself. No, not a duplicate. Two minds in one body. One body in two minds. A balance between the two... she kept her eyes open, focused on the mirror, as she gingerly brought the spell to life. The magic surged. She felt as if she were caught in a hurricane, as if she were being shoved and yanked to one side... her head spun, unable to cope with the sudden shift in sensation. She felt...

  She stumbled, the magic sparkling out of existence. “Blast!”

  “Calm,” Void advised. “I didn’t expect you to get it on your first try.”

  Emily felt her cheeks flush, even though she knew he was right. She’d done more, in a few brief seconds, than many other magicians would ever do. It would be a long time before she matched Void, before she was a Lone Power in her own right, but she was already well ahead of many others. She scowled at the thought, reminding herself not to get too conceited. She’d met too many magicians who thought having magic made them little gods to want to go the same way herself. They’d thought...

  “I know.” Emily put the thought out of her head. She knew better. She wasn’t going to go that way. “I wanted to impress you.”

  “You already have.” Void sounded surprisingly warm, and she felt a thrill of pride. “But you have to proceed at your own pace. There’s nothing to be gained by trying to go too fast.”

  Emily nodded as she looked back at her reflection. “I’m going to try again.”

  “Then try,” Void said. “Once more. Just once.”

  Do or do not, there is no try, Emily thought. She had a feeling Void would not have approved of Yoda, if they’d met. Sometimes you try as hard as you can and still fail.

  She took a long breath, then lifted her head and started the spell again. This time, the surge of magic felt stronger, more focused. She felt something pulling at her, but also pushing at her... she was being pulled in two directions at once. She wanted to resist, to fight the feeling even though she knew that trying would be the worst thing she could do. She had to give into the sensation, somehow keeping control while giving up control... a year ago, she wouldn’t have had the discipline to make the spell work. She wouldn’t even have been able to believe two contradictory things at once.

  A thoroughly unpleasant - and indescribable - sensation ran through her. She stumbled to the side, her legs quivering. The world was dark. Her eyes were closed... when had she closed them? She opened them... and found herself staring into her own face. The mirror... no, not the mirror. Her counterpart... her head spun as she realized she was staring into her own face, her true face. She’d split herself into two bodies...

  “Do I...?”

  She stopped. Her voice sounded odd in her ears. Both sets of ears. Of course... she didn’t normally hear herself talk, not as if she was a different person. She’d read something about it somewhere, although she couldn’t remember details. Alassa had joked that people who fell in love with the sound of their voices did so because they couldn’t hear themselves...

  “Incredible,” she - they - said, as one. It was hard to disentangle themselves completely. They were the same person. “Do I really look like that?”

  Her perspective shifted. She was looking at herself. Her other self. She could see Void standing by the wall, watching them with thoughtful eyes. She understood, suddenly, why he’d insisted she wore as little as possible. It might have been safer to be naked, the first time she’d tried the spell. But she couldn’t have done that, not in front of him. Or anyone, really. She felt her thoughts starting to fracture... her perspective shifted again, until she was looking away from Void. It felt weird, as if she was in two places at once... she was in two places at once, one mind in two bodies. She looked down and saw her other self look down too. They hadn’t split completely, then. They were still intermingled at a very primal level.

  “Good,” Void said. His voice was suddenly hard and commanding. “And now, turn away from each other.”

  Emily tried to turn, but it was hard. Invisible ropes seemed to be holding her firmly in place, keeping her and her other self looking at each other. She felt her mind switch bodies time and time again, Void blinking in and out of view with each shift. It felt odd, so odd... wrong, yet not painful. She found herself taking a step towards herself... her head spun as she struggled to stay still, to stay in two places at once. Her vision blurred, very slightly, as she forced herself to turn. It felt as if she were doing something fundamentally wrong...

  “Emily...”

  She looked at Void. “What?”

  Her master seemed surprised, his eyes going wide as Emily’s legs buckled and she fell to the ground. He hadn’t said anything. It hadn't been his voice. Emily felt her vision start to blur again, growing worse with every passing second. Her other self... she was suddenly in the other body, staring at herself on the floor. She couldn’t follow what was happening, she couldn’t understand it, and...

  “Emily...”

  The voice echoed through her mind. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. And yet, she felt her thoughts start to fragment. She was in two places - no, many places. She was already on the floor, yet it came up and hit her... darkness swallowed her, pain surging through her body. And...

  Void’s face came into view, hazily. “Emily?”

  “I...” Emily swallowed hard. Her head hurt. Her memories... she felt a twinge of pain as she realized she’d literally been in two places at once. It hurt to even think about what had happened and yet she had no choice. “What happened?”

  “You didn’t disentangle yourself correctly.” Void helped her to sit up, then conjured a glass of water from the air and held it out to her. “You split your body into two, but you didn’t quite manage to split your mind.”

  Emily sipped the water, gingerly. It tasted pure, so pure it was practically tasteless. “It felt... wrong.”

  “It does, yes.” Void sounded pensive for a long mome
nt. “Even trying can feel like committing suicide. The trick is to maintain your mental integrity while tearing it in two.”

  He smiled, humorlessly. “And if you can grasp the contradiction,” he added, “you’ll be one step closer to making it work.”

  “I’ll try,” Emily said. Her memories felt weird, as if she’d collapsed and watched herself collapse... as if she had two sets of memories. She supposed she had, in a sense. “I thought I heard someone calling my name.”

  Void frowned. “You might have imagined it,” he said, slowly. “Your thoughts were being split in two. You could have been thinking to yourself, hearing your own thoughts.”

  ... Maybe.” Emily wasn’t so sure. The voice hadn’t been hers. What did her thoughts sound like anyway? She knew how to recognize someone else, by their mental voice, but... what would her own thoughts sound like? She thought she’d know her own thoughts. And yet, it had been oddly familiar. “I don’t know.”

  She passed him the glass, which sparkled into nothingness as soon as he took it, and tried to stand. Her legs felt weak. Void held out a hand, allowing her to lean on him as she stumbled to her feet. The mirror was a pile of shattered glass, lying on the floor. Emily winced, despite herself. The Heart’s Eye mirrors had also shattered, when they’d broken contact with the alternate dimension...

  “No more magic until you’ve had some sleep,” Void said, firmly. If he noticed the way her mind was wandering, he said nothing. “Go back to your room and rest. Eat dinner in bed, if you don’t feel up to joining me. Or sleep. We can go through the spell tomorrow before we try again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said. She was suddenly very aware of her own fatigue. Her body felt weak and worn. Her magic felt as if she’d pushed it right to the limit. The concept seemed so simple, but turning it into reality had nearly killed her. She felt a stab of pain in her head and shuddered, trying not to be sick. The simplest concept could be the hardest to make real. “How long did it take you to master the spell?”

  Void gave her a sidelong look. “I’d say it isn’t a spell one can ever truly master,” he said. “It depends on your ability to control magic, true, but also your ability to... separate your thoughts and then merge yourself back together. My old master made crude jokes to ensure I got the point. I couldn’t afford to think of myself as two people or reintegration would become impossible. You’ll have the same problem.”

  “I see, I think.” Emily wasn’t sure that was true. “And what happens if something happens to me? I mean, to one of me?”

  “It depends on the spell.” Void shook his head. “Go get some rest. We’ll discuss it later, when you’ve had time to consider what happened and then try again. And don’t try it without me. You cannot afford to be alone if something goes wrong.”

  Emily nodded. “I understand.”

  “See that you do,” Void said. “Do you need help to get back to your room?”

  “No,” Emily said. She thought she could walk to her room before she collapsed. “I can make it on my own.”

  “That’s what they all said,” Void told her. She remembered, suddenly, that he’d had students before her. “And they were all wrong.”

  Chapter Two

  “MY LADY?”

  Emily sat up in bed. Silent was standing by the door, her expression as bland and unreadable as always. Emily felt an odd little twinge. The maid might have been with her for six months, doing everything from laying out her clothes to serving her food, but their relationship had never progressed beyond strictly formal. Emily had tried to befriend her, as she’d befriended so many others, yet Silent seemed all too aware of the gulf between them. They could never be equals, never...

  “Yes?” Emily’s voice sounded raspy, even in her own ears. “What time is it?”

  “Dinnertime,” Silent said. “Should I bring you a tray?”

  “Yes, please,” Emily said. She’d slept, but she didn’t feel particularly rested. The dreams had pervaded her mind, mocking her. And yet, she couldn’t remember. “I’ll come into the living room.”

  She glanced at the clock as she drew back the covers and clambered out of bed. It was late evening, although time in general was largely meaningless inside the tower. Void seemed to keep his own hours, sometimes keeping her busy late into the night and allowing her to sleep in the following day. She wondered, sometimes, how the maids coped with a master who never stuck to a regular schedule. She supposed they followed a rota so there’d be someone ready to carry out their master’s orders at all hours of the day.

  And they’re well paid for their time, she mused. She’d made sure of that months ago. They can each go home after a year or so with a good reference and a nice nest egg.

  She splashed water on her face, then walked into the living room. A tray of food awaited her, held within a suspension spell. Silent dropped a curtsey, then left the room. Emily felt her stomach rumble as she popped the spell, then started to eat. Void’s menu still struck her as surprisingly plebeian for one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. She wondered, sometimes, if he was sending her a message. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t enjoy delicacies that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a king’s table.

  Maybe he just doesn’t care, she thought, as she ate the stew. Someone - Silent, probably - had put a pile of letters on the table. He doesn’t need to demand validation from everyone else.

  She snorted at the thought. She’d visited enough royal courts - and aristocratic castles - to know that half of kingship was putting on a display of power. The king must have a table groaning with food, even if it meant going into debt; the king must wear the finest clothes and carry the finest weapons and hire the finest blades... she rolled her eyes at the sheer absurdity. Void didn’t need anyone else to acknowledge his power. Kings and princes - and merchants - did. She couldn’t help wondering how many of the aristocrats really liked their food. She’d never really been impressed by what passed for luxury foodstuffs on the Nameless World.

  The price is probably the driving factor, she told herself. And the idea is to prove you can afford it.

  Emily pushed the plate to one side, then reached for the pile of letters. A small note lay on the top, inviting her to the workshop when she was rested. She put it to one side and sorted the letters, separating notes from her friends from missives from strangers. The latter were never very interesting, ranging from requests for patronage to marriage proposals from men she’d never met. She wondered, idly, if the young men were being pressured into approaching her by their families. She’d yet to read a proposal that wasn’t cringingly formal and so impersonal it might as well have been written by a robot.

  She smiled as she started reading the letters from her friends. Caleb updated her on work at Heart’s Eye, inviting her to visit when she had a moment. Alassa and Jade were busy rebuilding Zangaria, putting the kingdom back together as they raised their daughter. Emily felt a twinge of guilt for not visiting, even though she knew they were very busy. It would be nice to see her namesake again. And Frieda had invited her to the winter solstice in Dragon’s Den. Emily scowled, wondering where the time had gone. It felt like years since she’d seen her friends.

  You knew you’d be alone for much of your apprenticeship, she reminded herself, as she stood and headed for the door. But you don’t have to be alone for all of it.

  She felt the tower’s wards shift as she made her way down the stairs. The building felt odd, as if it wasn’t quite real. The corridors changed regularly, but never when she was watching. She marveled at the sheer level of magic that had gone into building the tower, a tower passed down from master to student in a chain that led all the way back to the pre-imperial days. Void had hinted she might inherit it when he died. She hoped that day was a long time away.

  “Emily,” Void called, as she reached the workshop. “Come on in.”

  Emily stepped into the massive chamber, feeling oddly out of place. It looked like a strange combination of a carpenter’s shop, a blacksmith
’s forge and an enchanter’s lair. Stacks of wood, metal and rare potions ingredients were piled against the walls or resting on wooden tables, each one scarred by countless failed experiments. The wards seemed to draw back, isolating the chamber from the rest of the tower. They wouldn’t interfere with any of the experiments, for better or worse. Emily felt uncomfortably naked, even though she was wearing her robe. The wards that had protected her, as a new student, simply didn’t exist here. A single mistake could kill her.

  “Tell me something,” Void said. He didn’t look up from his work. “Do you remember how to make and enchant wands?”

  “I know the theory,” Emily said. She’d never been that good with practical handcraft, from needlework to carpentry. Her friends might have started learning practically from birth, but she’d never so much as touched a needle until she’d gone to Whitehall. “You carve a strip of wood, sand it down and infuse it with a piece of spellwork...”

  “It’s a little more complex than that,” Void said. His eyes rested on the wand in his hands, turning it over and over. “But you have the basic idea.”

  He looked up at her, putting the wand to one side. “Someday, you will have to explain to me why your world neglects the basic skills.”

  Emily shrugged. She had no idea how to put it into words. Earth believed adulthood didn’t start until one became an adult. The Nameless World couldn’t allow its kids to be kids. They had to work from the moment they could walk, learning to fight or working in the fields or... she shook her head. There was no way to explain the sheer gulf between the two worlds. Or how unwise it was to assume that the good times would last forever.

  “There are magicians who believe you get different results, depending on what material you use for the wand,” Void said. “And others who argue you get the best results from wands you make yourself. What do you think?”