Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Emily shuddered, remembering the reptilian creatures she’d seen. Her other self had seen. The memory rose up within her, a flash of terror and...

  “Emily?” Sir Roger coughed. “Lady Emily?”

  “I’m sorry.” Emily gathered herself. “Please. Carry on.”

  “We’ve also spotted a second army here.” Sir Roger moved his finger across the map. “I intend to suggest we attack the first army, then lead it towards the second. If we’re lucky, they’ll start brawling.”

  “And if we use the orcs to mount the attack, it’ll look like the necromancers are attacking each other,” Emily finished. “If we can take out the overseers too...”

  “We don’t want them retaking control before it’s too late,” Sir Roger agreed. “That should give us time to set up defensive positions” - his fingers trailed across the map - “depending on precisely what happens. Hopefully, we can take out the victor of the brawl before someone higher up the food chain” - he grimaced - “takes control.”

  A necromancer, Emily mused. And we know one cannot be far away.

  She studied the map for a long moment. “We need to lure them out of the castle,” she said, grimly. “That’s our ultimate target.”

  “So you say,” Sir Roger said. “But it might not be possible.”

  “We have to make it possible.” Emily caught herself before she said too much. “If we can reignite the nexus point, we win. We can establish a solid base and start retaking the Blighted Lands.”

  “I understand, My Lady.” Sir Roger held up his hand. “But I also understand the risks.”

  Emily nodded, sourly. They’d survived one major battle by the skin of their teeth. Her other self had died in the second major battle. And... she scowled. She couldn’t leave. The oath wouldn’t let her. She’d have to strike out alone if the Allied Lands decided to draw back and abandon the fort.

  “I understand,” she said. “And I will do everything in my power to ensure a victory.”

  She listened, absently, as he outlined the plans. Master Lucknow had not let the grass grow under his feet. He’d already realized there was no need to rely on fragile humans to cast powerful spells, not when one had batteries and valves. Emily had to admit he’d done well for someone who’d only had a few days to consider the possibilities. He’d devised a dozen ways to use a battery in combat. Hell, he’d even come up with a way to overwhelm a necromancer. If they hadn’t been hostage to keeping the necromancer’s castle intact, Emily might have been tempted to suggest they tried it. It might have worked.

  “I think it should do,” she said, when he’d finished. “When will we be ready to go?”

  “We’re bringing newer forces through the portal now,” Sir Roger said. “The scouts have picked up a number of possible locations. We can set up more portals, for short periods, and ship reinforcements through at speed. Or so they say.”

  “It can be done,” Emily said. “That’s how we broke into the Tower of Alexis.”

  Sir Roger laughed, humorlessly. “You... you cheat.”

  “There’s no point in playing by the rules if they’re rigged against you,” Emily said, although she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Playing by the rules did allow one to claim they were playing fairly... she shook her head. Fair rules, rules that applied to everyone, were important. But it was harder to have fair rules when something important was at stake. “We couldn’t have stormed the tower otherwise.”

  “It was meant to be impregnable,” Sir Roger said. He waved a hand at the wall. “How much of what I learnt, over the past few years, is going to be outdated before I turn thirty?”

  “Some will, some won’t,” Emily said. She’d been told the basic principles of war had never changed, but she wasn’t sure that was true. It all depended on what one considered acceptable ways to fight - and win. “There’s no way to put the genie back in the bottle now.”

  Sir Roger gave her a crooked smile. “His Majesty” - a pained expression flickered across his face as he recalled his former master - “suggested I would marry Lady Imaiqah. Do you realize what a scandal that would have been, a few short years ago?”

  Emily shrugged. “Do you realize how bad it would have been - how bad it was - for the aristocracy to refuse to marry outsiders? The risk of inbreeding alone would have been disastrous, in the long run...”

  “So I’ve been told,” Sir Roger said. His voice showed none of his feelings.“But old habits die hard.”

  “Yes.” Emily met his eyes. “Have you written to her?”

  “No.” Sir Roger stroked his chin. “Do you think I should?”

  “The worst thing she can do is” - Emily hesitated as her imagination provided too many possible answers, ranging from mild hexes to outright curses - “the worst thing she can do is say no.”

  She stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll check in with Master Lucknow. I want to know what he’s done before we go back to the war.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THE AIR FELT HOT AND HUMID, even though there was little water in the Blighted Lands. Emily felt an uncomfortable urge to scratch as the small assault force slipped towards the enemy encampment, clearly visible despite the darkness. The orcs had lit so many campfires that they had to be playing merry hell with their night vision... or so she’d been assured. It hadn’t stopped her insisting they all used glamors to hide themselves as they came closer. An unsuccessful attack would be worse than useless. So would getting caught before they landed their blows and ran.

  She glanced at Penny as she crested the dune, unsure if the other girl was practiced enough to remain quiet. Penny didn’t seem to be having any issues, but orcs were supposed to have very good hearing. Emily made a mental note to suggest firecrackers next time, to turn their strength into a weakness, then turned her attention back to the enemy encampment. It looked random and chaotic compared to an army camp. The vast majority of orcs were feasting or sleeping in the open air; the tents were scattered randomly around the field, as if their occupants had just stopped and set up their tents. Beyond them, she could see a small array of monsters held in bondage. The animal communication and control spells were nothing like as elaborate as the spell she’d seen in Dragora, keeping a dragon under control. The necromancer - she had no idea which one controlled the army and it didn’t matter, as far as the plan was concerned - had simply taken first-year spells and scaled them up. Emily suspected that was a mistake. If the spells ever broke, the necromancer’s army would be in real trouble.

  Her lips quirked. They should have read the Evil Overlord list. I will treat any beast which I control through magic with respect and kindness, so it will not try to kill me the moment my control is snapped.

  Lady Barb nudged her. “Can you sense the overseers?”

  Emily reached out with her mind. The overseers - their presence marked by clouds of dark magic - appeared to be in the tents, rather than doing their job. She wondered, idly, if they were sleeping or relaxing or indulging themselves. The necromancers didn’t seem to have the concept of rewarding good service, although they didn’t need it. They kept most of their slaves under control by brute force. She glanced back at Lady Barb and nodded, once. They couldn’t kill all the overseers - someone had to take control, to lead the army against its presumed foe - but they could take out a handful of them. And the monsters...

  “Let me deal with the monsters,” she whispered. “You and Penny hit the tents.”

  “Five minutes,” Lady Barb said. “When I throw the fireball, you throw the spells.”

  Emily nodded, watching the other two as they crawled into the darkness before she circled around to get into position. The air smelt increasingly foul as she inched towards the monsters, suggesting the orcs hadn’t bothered to take care of their servants. Emily wasn’t surprised. The monsters were disposable weapons. There was always more where they came from. She shuddered, remembering what she’d heard about how the creatures had been created. The necromancers thought nothing of warping natu
re beyond all recognition.

  A surge of magic shot through the air as Lady Barb aimed a fireball into the nearest tent. It exploded with a flash of tainted magic, a wave of anger and hatred surging through the air as the overseer died. Another tent exploded, a second later. Emily saw a humanoid form, wrapped in flame, hurling a strange spell into the air. The overseer seemed confused, almost dazed. Emily smirked, then mustered the strongest cancellation spell she could and cast it at the monsters. They jerked awake as their magical bonds snapped , roaring their anger at the universe. The nearest orcs didn’t manage to do more than blink before they were ripped to shreds by teeth and claws.

  Time to go, Emily thought.

  She turned and ran, hoping and praying Lady Barb and Penny had already started heading back to the rendezvous point. They’d planned to teleport out if things got too hairy, but that would have alerted the enemy that their attacker wasn’t the other necromancer. She heard screaming behind her as the monsters continued their rampage, flickers of dark magic pressing against her awareness as the overseers struggled to bring them under control. The orcs would be on the verge of going crazy, if the overseers were killed. She wanted to believe the army would destroy itself, even though she knew it was unlikely. The necromancer could not be that far away.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she reached the rendezvous point. Cat stood there, surrounded by a group of orcs. Emily eyed their weapons warily, knowing their oversized swords could cut her in half with a single blow. Cat had them under control, but she’d never turn her back on them. They were just too stupid to follow complex orders. They might attack or kill someone without ever realizing they were disobeying their master.

  Cat nodded to her. “I can hear the sound from here.”

  “Yeah.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief as Lady Barb and Penny joined them. “Send in the orcs.”

  “And then we move,” Lady Barb added. “There’s at least four overseers still alive.”

  Cat nodded and started barking orders to the orcs. They lumbered forward, waving their weapons as they charged towards the enemy position. A handful of illusionary spells went with them, creating the impression of an entire orcish horde heading straight for the enemy camp. Emily wasn’t sure if the illusions would actually fool the overseers, but they’d have very little time to see through the spells before it was too late. The orcs would do a great deal of damage before they were stopped and killed.

  She felt a twinge of guilt as the sound of fighting intensified. They’d sacrificed the orcs, as casually as one might sacrifice a pawn on a chessboard. Was she the only one who had qualms about sending them to their deaths? She knew what they’d do if they were allowed to roam free, or found themselves recaptured by a necromancer, but still... she told herself, firmly, that there was no choice. The necromancers knew their enemies didn’t use orcs. The one they’d attacked would assume his ally had turned on him.

  “Let’s move,” Cat snapped.

  Emily nodded and scrambled onto the horse. The beast twitched uncomfortably under her, but seemed glad to put some distance between itself and the monsters. Emily took the reins and spurred the horse onwards, lifting her eyebrows in surprise as Penny flew beside her. She knew the spells, but she’d never tried anything more complex than levitation. She was almost tempted to fly as well, even though she knew the risks. Penny was visible - and vulnerable - to anyone with even a tiny flicker of magic.

  And yet, it looks so... Emily shook her head. She’d been disappointed to learn that real witches didn’t ride broomsticks - not in the conventional sense, at least - but she wasn’t sure she would have wanted to learn either. The risk of being blown out of the air is just too great.

  “They’re coming,” Lady Barb said. “Dig in your spurs.”

  Emily gritted her teeth. They’d hoped to make a clean getaway, breaking contact completely before the overseers managed to regain control and set out for revenge. The plan had been to flee towards the next orcish camp, then retreat into the shadows. If it had failed... she shuddered as they plunged on, knowing the orcs would be coming after them at full speed. They might have to teleport, if the only other option was death. And that meant the plan would fail. Completely.

  More or less, she thought. We gave them a nasty fright, if nothing else.

  She glanced behind her. The burning camp lit up the sky with a sickly glow. Something unnatural was burning. She could see orcs, illuminated by the flames, giving chase, picking up speed as they ran from the camp. Flashes of magic suggested the overseers were still trying to get the monsters under control, if they could. They might just be killing them. The overseers were nasty creatures, but they didn’t seem to have the raw power of a full-fledged necromancer. They might not be able to retake control.

  Either way, we win, she told herself.

  “Get ready,” Lady Barb ordered. “Cast the spells on my mark.”

  Emily nodded, hastily readying the spell. They had to give the impression they were fleeing back to their camp... to the other orcish camp. The orcs had to see them fleeing... she wondered, grimly, if they’d be fooled. Illusions might fool the eyes, but it was never easy for them to fool the nose. Dogs often saw through illusions that tricked their human masters. It was why so many aristocrats kept guard dogs.

  “Now,” Lady Barb said.

  They cast the spells, then altered course and plunged further into the darkness. Emily gritted her teeth as the orcs kept coming, their howling echoing through the night air. It felt as if they were going to be stampeded, even though the orcs - presumably - couldn’t see them. They might kill the entire team by accident... she breathed a sigh of relief once they'd cantered out of the enemy path, then kept moving. Behind them, she heard the howling grow even louder - somehow - as the two armies clashed. She rather suspected the necromancers would have trouble patching things up after that.

  Particularly if they’re not close enough to take direct control, she thought. She didn’t understand why she hadn’t sensed one or both of the necromancers. Were they hiding under wards? Or were they up to something? Or... I didn’t sense the necromancer in the castle, either.

  She shuddered, sweat running down her back as they approached the makeshift fort and slowed to a trot. The guards were watching them. If they thought the fort - the new fort - was under attack, they’d shoot first and ask questions later. Emily breathed a sigh of relief as the gates swung open, allowing them to ride inside. It looked surprisingly sturdy for a fort that had been thrown up in less than a day. She smiled, grimly. The necromancers would be surprised to discover just how fast the army had moved.

  And then they’ll come calling, she thought. They’d laid their plans carefully, readying themselves for the moment the new fort came under attack, but she knew things could easily go wrong. They might break down the walls and overwhelm the fort by sheer weight of numbers.

  Sir Roger saluted her. Emily clambered off the horse and slid to the ground, nodding politely despite her fatigue. She hoped she’d have a chance to get a nap, but she doubted it. The army might be attacked at any moment. They’d planned ways to bring in reinforcements, or run if the attackers proved too strong... she told herself, firmly, to stop worrying. They’d done everything they could, from hashing out contingency plans for every imaginable disaster to transporting supplies to the new fort. If something went wrong, it would not be through lack of imagination or preparation.

  “Lady Emily,” Sir Roger said. “The scouts report the enemy armies are fighting each other.”

  “We saw,” Emily said. She wondered, idly, if the fighting would continue to spread until the two necromancers came to blows. “Did the Crown Prince carry out his part of the scheme?”

  “He got in and out without losses,” Sir Roger assured her. “They chased him for several miles before he broke contact.”

  Emily nodded, feeling another twinge of guilt. Firing poisoned arrows into an enemy encampment struck her as foul, even though the code of war didn’t apply to orc
s.

  She shook her head. “Are we ready to stand off an attack here?”

  “Everything is in place,” Sir Roger said. “Assuming, of course, they do as the plan tells them.”

  Emily nodded, curtly. The plan looked perfect, on paper, but her last plan had looked perfect too. But it hadn’t survived contact with a necromancer. The memories of dying and not dying threatened to overwhelm her, just for a second. They weren’t real - her mind seemed to be trying to convince herself they weren’t real - but they felt real. She bit her lip, then turned and headed towards the raised walls. The engineers - and soldiers - had thrown them up in a tearing hurry, but they looked and felt terrifyingly flimsy compared to the old fort. Or a castle. Sorcerers moved along the walls, muttering spells as they raised wards and blended protective charms into the wood and stone. Emily noted the invisible barriers between the sorcerers, the cavalry, the archers, the musketmen, the cannoneers and the infantry seemed to have faded into nothingness. Her lips twitched. They’d hang together, or they’d hang separately.

  “Emily.” Sergeant Miles stood in front of the walls, supervising the work. “It’s going well.”

  “Good,” Emily said. She knew they’d find out, soon enough, if their plan had actually worked. Ideally, the necromancers would never test the defenses. She hoped and prayed they never realized their armies had been tricked into fighting each other. But she knew better than to count on it. “How long do we have?”

  Sergeant Miles shot her a reproving look. “I don’t know, and nor do you,” he said. “But it’s only a matter of time until they stumble across this fort.”

  “Yeah.” Emily had seen the reports. They were far too close to the Castle at the End of the Land - and the plantations - to go undiscovered indefinitely. The necromancers were calling in their armies. A roving patrol of orcs might stumble across them quite by accident. “It’s not going to be fun.”

  Penny ran up, grinning from ear to ear. “I” - she looked from Emily to Sergeant Miles and back again - “I... Lady Barb sends her compliments and begs leave to report that the enemy forces are engaging each other.”