Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20)

by Christopher Nuttall

  And that stopped completely after I killed Shadye, she thought. They took me seriously after that.

  “I suppose he would have,” Emily said. She smiled, feeling a flicker of affection. “After all this is done, I can show you how far I’ve come.”

  She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, staring into the flames. It felt weird, as if... she wasn’t sure how to put it into words. It felt... she shook her head. The combination of potion and aftershock from her own death was still affecting her. She had the feeling it would take weeks for it to be gone completely. She wanted - she needed - something to do. Unfortunately, most of the mindless things she could do were impossible.

  “I’m sure Penny sneered at me, earlier,” Cat said. “She probably thinks I’m a coward.”

  “She thinks you’re a dickhead, like I said,” Emily pointed out. “Cat... Penny’s not interested in men. You’re wasting your time.”

  Cat stared at her. “Really?”

  “Really,” Emily confirmed. “She said as much.”

  “Maybe she hasn’t tried a man,” Cat said. “I...”

  “I’m sure that attitude will convince her to give you a try,” Emily said, sarcastically. She’d heard enough locker room talk to last her a lifetime. “And if you say that to her, she’ll probably try to kill you. And I wouldn’t blame her.”

  “Oh.” Cat gave her an odd look. “Does it bother you? Sharing a room with her?”

  “I shared a tent with a bunch of smelly guys in Farrakhan,” Emily reminded him. She understood what he meant, but... she had no reason to think Penny found her attractive. It had always puzzled her that straight men found the idea of sharing a room with a homosexual somewhat disturbing. “I think I can trust her to remember where the boundaries actually are.”

  She let out a breath. “You’re being silly. And disgusting. Stop it.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Cat banged his chest in salute. “So... what now?”

  “We’ll be holding a conference tomorrow,” Emily said. “I believe there are several ideas to discuss.”

  “So I heard,” Cat said. “I also heard there are people arguing we should go home.”

  “We haven’t won yet,” Emily said. Her hand shook. “Yes, we killed a necromancer. But the other two are still out there, still digging into the mountains. We might go home and go back to sleep, only to discover they haven’t stopped at all.”

  “I know,” Cat agreed. “But not everyone shares your view.”

  Emily shrugged. General Pollack and Master Lucknow would understand. Crown Prince Dater was keen for glory. He’d understand... his men were already scouring the desert, taking note of orcish bands roving the barren lands. They’d be a real problem until another necromancer wiped them out or took them into his army. She wondered, sourly, if it would make any difference in the long run. They might destroy a plantation or two before they were destroyed.

  “They’re still digging,” she reminded him. “We have to stop them now or risk losing everything.”

  Cat nodded. “You'll think of a plan,” he said. “Just make sure it has a role for me. I have to do something heroic before it’s too late...”

  “Hire a bard and get him to write an ode or two to your bravery,” Emily said. “I’m sure he can turn a minor victory into the decisive battle, if you pay him enough. He’ll praise you to the skies...”

  “Everyone will know,” Cat said.

  Emily grinned. “They’ll know the story is exaggerated,” she said, although she wasn’t sure that was true. She’d heard a number of ballads that had either been exaggerated beyond all recognition or praised the hero so extensively that they started to sound disturbing. She had no idea why a king would hire a bard to praise his genitals, as well as his political skills... her lips quirked. Maybe the song had been written by one of the king’s enemies. “But they’ll know you did something to merit a song.”

  “I admire your confidence,” Cat said, dryly. “But what if you’re wrong?”

  “Then I’m wrong,” Emily said. “But think about it. People still know I did something, even if they don’t believe the songs.”

  “Luckily for you,” Cat said. “I still can’t believe the bards can get away with insisting you...”

  “I don’t want to know,” Emily said, quickly. “The songs I’ve heard are quite bad enough.”

  “I know,” Cat said. “I could write a better song in my sleep.”

  “A song that consisted of snoring noises would definitely be better,” Emily agreed. She stood, brushing down her trousers. “I have to get to bed. I need to be up bright and early tomorrow.”

  “Do you want me to stand guard outside your room?” Cat stood too. “Or even inside it? Lady Barb said you weren’t to be left alone.”

  Emily scowled. Lady Barb had had a point. She’d come very close to hurting herself during the emotional storm. Or making a set of very bad decisions. She didn’t like someone staying so close to her, but... Lady Barb had been right.

  “Penny will be there,” she said. She trusted Cat, but she wanted some time to think. “And she’d kick you out in a heartbeat.”

  “At least she’d be paying attention to me,” Cat said. “Really...”

  “You’re wasting your time,” Emily said. “Really.”

  “Got it.” Cat headed to the door. “I’ll see you back to your room, then go find somewhere to sleep. And perhaps find someone else to court.”

  “Grow up,” Emily advised. “There’s more to life than women, fighting and beer.”

  “Nonsense.” Cat’s smile took the sting out of his words. It faded a moment later. “Emily, I don’t get to have a family. I don’t get to do more than fighting and fucking and... well, just fighting and fucking. I...”

  “You don’t have to stay with your family either,” Emily reminded him. He’d said very little about his family, but what he’d said hadn’t sounded pleasant. “You can set out on your own.”

  “Perhaps become a mercenary in truth.” Cat touched his forelock. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “THIS IS THE LIFE,” CROWN PRINCE Dater called, as he led the cavalry across the barren hellscrape. “Does it get any better than this?”

  Emily gritted her teeth. She hated riding. The cavalry had sworn blind they’d given her a docile horse - or as docile as a horse raised for combat could be - but she had the feeling the horse knew she was a poor rider and intended to throw her as soon as it thought it could get away with it. There was little hope of the horse managing to make a clean getaway - it was much more likely the beast would be caught, killed and eaten by something nastier - but she doubted it was smart enough to know it. She’d just have to hope the training held true. Alassa had nagged her to keep up with her riding, but Emily just hadn’t had time.

  She glanced back at Cat, who rode his horse with commendable skill. There was no hint of doubt on his face, no fear of being thought a coward by the cavalry. They’d accepted him without a moment’s hesitation, after they’d been told the plan. Emily sighed inwardly, wondering at their easy acceptance when they hadn’t seemed too sure what to make of her. She was probably just too confusing, too many things wrapped into one person; a young woman, a sorceress, a commander, an aristocrat, a secret weapon... she shook her head in annoyance as they galloped on. There was no point in worrying about it. She couldn’t change it.

  The air seemed to shimmer around them, a faint stench of burning drifting into her nostrils. She swallowed hard, telling herself it could be a great deal worse. The scouts had picked out a couple of plantations several miles to the south, close enough to be part of Shadye’s territory before he’d been killed... they’d probably enjoyed a few years of semi-independence before the other necromancers had moved in and taken them. She wondered, idly, why they hadn’t packed up and set out for Whitehall, but she already knew the answer. There were just too many dangers between the plantations and the mountains...

  Assuming they even
know the school exists, she thought, numbly. It was hard to grasp, sometimes, how small the local worlds could be. Two cities, barely fifty miles apart, might as well be in different countries as far as their inhabitants were concerned. A villager’s world might not extend very far beyond the next village. They might not know there was any safety to be found.

  Cat brought his horse up beside hers. “This is a demented plan.”

  Emily grinned at him. “But it will show your bravery, if you manage to make it work,” she reminded him. “You volunteered for this, remember?”

  “I know.” Cat grinned back. “And by the time I’ve finished telling the tale, everyone will think I did it all by myself.”

  “Yep,” Emily said. “You can hire a bard to make sure they all know it, too.”

  She smiled, then sobered as the cavalry started to slow. They liked charging all over the landscape, but they knew better than to charge into an orcish camp unless they wanted to have their bodies chopped up and thrown in the cooking pot. There were less painful ways to commit suicide. The cavalry came to a halt, peering into the distance. The orcs milled within a hollow, scuffling with each other as they tried to choose a new leader. It looked faintly odd, as if they were play-fighting rather than really trying to hurt each other. And yet, she could hear the sound from a distance. A human would be dead if he walked into the orcs and tried to fight.

  Cat dismounted. “Wish me luck.”

  “Keep one hand on your gem,” Emily advised. She’d spent part of the morning charming another teleport gem. “If things go wrong, get out of there.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Cat said. “You just watch and admire.”

  He strolled towards the orcs, walking so casually it was easy to believe he didn’t think there was any real danger. Emily watched, a chill running down her spine. She’d seen people walk into danger before - she’d walked into danger herself - but she’d never seen anyone act in a manner that suggested he was utterly heedless of his own safety. It was an act, yet... she braced herself. If something went wrong, it would do so very quickly. They’d have to escape and try again somewhere else.

  Crown Prince Dater moved up beside her. “We could have charged through them and fled,” he said. “They’d have come after us.”

  “Yeah,” Emily agreed. “But we don’t want them angry.”

  She shivered as the orcs slowly realized someone was approaching. They turned, their faces twisting into parodies of anger as they stared at Cat. A human - even a necromancer - could not walk toward the orcs without feeling fear, yet Cat seemed fearless. They would have reacted quicker to a real threat, but... she reached for her magic, readying herself. This could go horrifically wrong.

  Cat stopped and raised his fists in challenge. An orc shambled forwards, tiny eyes alight with malice. Cat nodded, then darted forwards and bopped the orc on the nose. The creature flew back, landing amidst the other orcs. Emily concealed a smile at their confusion. The orcs were too stupid to realize Cat had used a force punch. They thought he really was that strong. Another orc growled, then lunged at Cat. Cat punched him, too, throwing him to the ground. He twitched once and lay still. The remainder of the orcs stared, then started to howl. The sound was so terrifying, it took Emily a moment to realize they were hailing their new leader.

  “He’s done it.” Crown Prince Dater sounded awed. His mouth hung open. “He’s actually done it.”

  Emily nodded, keeping a wary eye on Cat as he started directing the orcs to stand up and follow him back to the fort. The orcs would stay loyal, until Cat looked weak or died. They weren’t smart enough to plot to stab their new leader in the back, or so she’d been assured. As long as Cat looked strong, they’d follow him. She felt cold as she wheeled the horse around, ready to head back to the fort. They’d risked Cat’s life to subvert the orcs. If it had gone wrong...

  “Lady Emily.” Crown Prince Dater spoke very quietly. “Can we trust them?”

  “We can trust them to obey,” Emily said. “But it would probably be best not to trust them too far. They don’t understand complex orders.”

  She kept glancing over her shoulder as they cantered back to the fort. Cat was a big man - she knew he had muscles on his muscles - but he looked small and pitiful amongst the orcs. It was hard to believe they’d obey him, or that they could be trusted. Cat could order them not to attack, or kill, or eat the soldiers, but... would they understand? Or would they do something dangerous, quite by accident? It was hard to be sure. Even feeding the brutes was going to be hard.

  Or maybe not, she thought. It isn’t as if we bothered to collect the bodies from the last engagement.

  She forced herself to relax as they returned to the fort, Cat directing the orcs to take up station outside the walls and start collecting bodies to eat. They’d start going after more orcs, now they’d proven the plan could work. They’d be able to capture most of the dead necromancer’s army for themselves... Emily wondered, grimly if it would make a difference when they went back to the war. The necromancers had to be laying their own plans and gathering their forces, perhaps even asking for help from the remaining necromancers. Who knew? They might work together if they knew she was there.

  “Well,” Lady Barb said, when Emily scrambled onto the walls. “I never knew he could do it.”

  “But he did.” Penny sounded astonished. “He’s got an army of orcs under his command.”

  Emily shrugged. “They’ll be vaporized if they get thrown against a necromancer,” she said, shortly. “They can help us. They can’t win the war.”

  She rubbed sweat from her brow. Sir Roger and Master Lucknow had been drawing up plans, using the information she and the scouts had provided, but - so far - they hadn’t been able to locate either of the other necromancers. And she couldn’t stray too far from the Castle at the End of the Land. She had half an idea for drawing the necromancer out, but he seemed too smart for it to work. Storming the castle, on the other hand, would get a lot of people killed. For nothing.

  Lady Barb caught her eye. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better,” Emily said. She still felt weirdly unsure of herself, as if her memories didn’t quite add up. She’d had to consider false memories in the past, lies slipped into her mind, but this was different. Both sets of memories were true. They just didn’t coexist very well. “I just have to keep myself busy.”

  “If you say so.” Lady Barb studied her for a long moment. “Sir Roger wishes to see you, if you feel up to it.”

  “I do.” Emily pasted a composed expression on her face. No one would say anything, not openly, if she dawdled... but they’d think less of her. “Did they finish charging the batteries?”

  “They’re still coming up with newer and better ways to use them,” Lady Barb said. She looked as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “Let us hope...”

  She shook her head. “If you feel up to it, go and see him. I’ll meet you later for dinner.”

  Emily nodded, glancing towards Cat and the orcs before scrambling back down the ladder. The orcs were eating their dead kin, tearing the bodies apart and cramming chunks of uncooked flesh into their mouths. Emily felt her stomach churn, silently grateful they hadn’t managed to devise an orcish poison yet. The alchemists were working on it, insisting they’d have something they could use within a day or two. Emily had her doubts. Orcs were tough, even if they weren’t very smart. The poison might pass through their system without doing any real damage.

  Or it might not do enough damage, she mused. A slow poison will be useless if they kill us before the poison kills them.

  She put the thought aside as she walked past a pair of guards, both of whom saluted her, and into the office. Sir Roger hadn’t bothered to personalize the room when he’d occupied it; he’d installed a folding table, a handful of folding chairs and a collection of maps that were steadily being modified or filled out as the scouts returned with more and more reports. Emily noted the handful of plantations Cat and... and her other sel
f had visited, as they passed through on their disastrous mission. Cat had clearly been busy, telling the staff officers what he’d seen. Emily hoped he’d thought to claim the credit. She didn’t want people thinking about how she’d been in two places at once.

  Sir Roger stood as she entered. “Lady Emily,” he said. He indicated a jug of water. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Please.” Emily felt parched. Her body was still aching. “Do the lords appreciate the importance of water?”

  “The Crown Prince does,” Sir Roger said, as he poured the glasses. “The other aristos don’t seem to want to come here.”

  Emily felt a flicker of sympathy. Cat had worried he might be seen as a coward. Sir Roger was seen as an oathbreaker.

  She took her glass, then sat on the proffered seat. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, truthfully. “I wish things had been different.”

  “Me too.” Sir Roger shrugged. “But it changes nothing.”

  Emily nodded. Sir Roger had been a man on the ladder to success. He’d been plucked from the lower nobility, entrusted with a mission by the king himself... even promised a wealthy heiress for a bride. And then his king had gone mad. Sir Roger had left him... Emily shook her head, sourly. Sir Roger had been right, but hardly anyone wanted to admit they agreed. They had too much to lose.

  Sir Roger pointed to the map. “We still don’t know where the necromancers are,” he said, “but the scouts have been tracking a big army gathering near a plantation. We’ve spotted both orcs and overseers, which means...”