Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I agree.” Crown Prince Dater looked at General Pollack. “We have yet to secure our gains.”

  “There’s also the risk of losing everything we’ve gained,” Master Lucknow pointed out, curtly. “I understand the argument in favor of continuing the advance, but we have to understand the risks too.”

  “Our gains are not solid,” Sir Roger said. “The blunt truth, Master Sorcerer, is that there are limits to our ability to keep the outpost forts supplied. They can rain orcs and monsters on us like water, advancing over their own corpses until we run out of supplies and get slaughtered. Staying where we are is not an option. We have a flat choice between pulling back now, taking the liberated populations with us, or continuing the war.”

  General Pollack smiled. “Do you intend to conquer the Blighted Lands?”

  “I intend to secure our gains by reigniting the nexus point and putting it to work,” Emily said, curtly. “We can use it as a source of power, as we discussed. We can keep them out long enough to build up our forces and advance to the next point.”

  Or simply hit them with battery-powered spells, she added, coldly. And nuke their fortresses one by one.

  She scowled as the debate raged around the table. She wasn’t sure quite what would happen if a nuclear blast interacted with the strange magics surrounding some of the necromantic lairs, or the dead nexus points, but she doubted it would be anything good. Void had told her stories of strange creatures, so alien they had little in common with humanity, sleeping under some of the oldest places. She had no idea if the stories were true, but she wasn’t inclined to risk everything to find out. It was always unwise to summon something one couldn’t dismiss. She’d heard those stories too.

  “And what if you fail?” General Pollock spoke quietly, as if he had no feelings about the matter at all. “What if you lose?”

  “We know the risks,” Sir Roger said. “And even if we’re wiped out to the last man, sir, we would still make them pay a price for their victory.”

  “And we’ve already taken out two necromancers and untold thousands of orcs,” Crown Prince Dater said. “We’ve hurt them. Badly.”

  But we don’t know precisely how many orcs we killed, or precisely how many they had in the first place, Emily thought. Just how badly have we really hurt them?

  “We can start moving tomorrow,” Sir Roger said. “It’s only a day’s march to the city by the castle. We can get there before the final necromancer rallies his forces and resumes the attack.”

  “Unless he’s already setting out to wallop you,” General Pollack pointed out.

  “He never left his castle,” Emily said. “I... I think he knows what we have in mind.”

  General Pollack eyed her, warily. “How do you know that?”

  Emily forced herself to look back at him, at the man who could have been her father-in-law if things had been different. “The necromancers do talk amongst themselves,” she said. “And we know they get some information from the Allied Lands. They know what I did at Heart’s Eye. They know there was a nexus point underneath his castle. They have good reason to fear what will happen if I do it again.”

  “If you can,” General Pollack said. “How do you know you can reignite the nexus point?”

  “How do they know I can’t?” Emily shrugged. She was oathbound to make a good faith attempt to reignite the nexus point. She might be able to shake off the oath if she tried and failed. She’d die if she acted in bad faith. “If you were a necromancer, would you assume the nexus point was truly dead?”

  “No,” General Pollack conceded. He stood. “Make your preparations to march out. Plan to leave tomorrow. I’ll be back in touch if my superiors - our superiors - say no.”

  Sir Roger took control as soon as the general had departed. “Your Highness, I want you to patrol the roads heading south of here,” he said. “If there’s anything in that region that poses a threat, I want to know about it.”

  “My men and I will be honored to serve,” Crown Prince Dater said. “And we’ll harass the orcs as we pass.”

  If there’s any left, Emily thought, numbly. She’d slaughtered thousands of orcs when she’d detonated the nuke-spell. The survivors might envy the dead. How many orcs did I wipe out in a heartbeat?

  She shuddered. She knew orcs were nothing more than mindless brawlers. She knew they weren’t intelligent, that they weren’t human. They might have been human once, but they weren’t any longer. There was little room for orcs and humans to co-exist. And yet, she felt a twinge of guilt. Who knew what the orcs would become, if they were left alone? They might evolve into something... something new.

  “Master Lucknow, prepare the new sorcerers to join us,” Sir Roger ordered. “We’re going to need them.”

  Emily felt another twinge of guilt. “What happened to the other sorcerers?”

  “They’re deeply drained,” Master Lucknow said. “Three of them died; one from a heart attack, the other two killed by flying attackers. The remainder have been evacuated. They’ll recover, in time.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Emily said.

  “The downside is that the newcomers don’t know about... about the devices,” Master Lucknow said. “Can we arrange for them to sign the contract too?”

  “I think we don’t have a choice,” Emily said. “Just make sure they do sign before you tell them the secret.”

  “Of course,” Master Lucknow said. “And then we can put an end to the war.”

  Sir Roger nodded. “We’ll finish the job,” he agreed. “Dismissed.”

  Emily stood, feeling grimy - again - as she headed outside. Cat was standing there, looking pleased as punch. Emily scowled as he fell into step beside her, wondering when he’d managed to get a few hours of sleep. He was grinning so widely she knew he’d done something he thought was brilliant.

  “I finished the battle, after your big flash,” Cat said, cheerfully. “What did you do?”

  “Something clever,” Emily said. She didn’t really want to lie to him. If nothing else, Cat knew her well enough to tell when she was lying. “What do you want?”

  Cat looked wounded. “What happened to you?”

  “Not enough sleep and...” Emily broke off before she could point out that her mentor had been badly hurt. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I get pretty cranky myself after a long night of debauchery and a couple of hours of sleep,” Cat said. “I think you have a better excuse.”

  Emily shrugged. “What happened to you?”

  “I’ve got the orcs helping to carry stuff around the compound,” Cat said. “And they’ll carry our baggage when we head south.”

  “If the general doesn’t tell us to head north instead,” Emily said. She told him what General Pollack had said. “It won’t end well.”

  “No,” Cat agreed. “My dreams of glory will end in a muddy wasteland.”

  He winked. “You want to stay? With me?”

  “I might not have a choice,” Emily said. “If we can reignite the nexus point...”

  She forced herself to think as they walked back to the healer’s tent. The batteries they’d charged before they’d set out were still in the castle. Rangka hadn’t even bothered to check what she’d been carrying, something she intended to make sure he wouldn’t live to regret. She snorted, feeling a twinge of amusement. He’d have to think she’d come back from the dead. An idea crossed her mind. She could take the spell she’d been working on and modify it, then deploy it. If it worked perfectly, Rangka’s death would reignite the nexus point.

  And if it doesn’t, I can just use the batteries, she thought. I can keep pushing power into the nexus point until it reignites.

  Sergeant Miles was standing outside the tent, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s a lot better, but don’t push her too hard,” he said. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “I won’t,” Emily said. She eyed the sergeant for a long moment. “How are you?”

  “Alive.” Sergeant M
iles grinned, showing a trace of his old humor. “As they say, any battle you can walk away from is a good battle.”

  “As opposed to a battle you run from, screaming at the top of your voice,” Cat said. “Emily, you go speak to Lady Barb. I have to stay and swap lies with the sergeant.”

  “Don’t you lie to me, young man,” Sergeant Miles said, sternly. “I was catching students in lies while you were in swaddling clothes.”

  Emily smiled as she stepped into the tent, although she wasn’t sure that was true. Sergeant Miles couldn’t be any older than forty, giving him only fifteen years to become a sergeant before Cat was born... she shook her head. Magicians tended to live longer than mundanes, but Sergeant Miles had never given her the impression of age. Perhaps he just hid it better. The persona he showed his students might not be the real him...

  Although it would be nice if it were, Emily thought. I can see why Lady Barb likes him.

  “Emily.” Lady Barb was sitting on a rug, reading a broadsheet. “Did you really kill a million orcs single-handedly?”

  “No,” Emily said. “I’m not even sure there’s a million orcs in the Blighted Lands.”

  “Who knows?” Lady Barb held out the broadsheet. “I think this is pretty much all lies.”

  Emily scanned the article, then laughed. “Who wrote this... this nonsense?”

  “I think the author didn’t wait for facts before he started to write,” Lady Barb said. “And he didn’t bother with an editor either. He contradicts himself twice.”

  “At least,” Emily said. She put the paper to one side. “How are you?”

  “Recovering,” Lady Barb said. She touched her forehead. “The healer told me he’d strap me down if I so much as thought about leaving the tent. He even ordered Miles to sit on me if I threatened to move.”

  “I’m sure he’d hate that,” Emily said. “I... I was worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Lady Barb said. “You’ve seen my scars.”

  “Yes, but none of them are on your head,” Emily said. She’d never quite understood why Lady Barb hadn’t healed her scars completely. “A head wound...”

  “I’ll be fine,” Lady Barb repeated. “I’ll be back to failing students before you know it.”

  “Penny misses you too,” Emily said.

  “Tell her to enjoy the break.” Lady Barb grinned. “Now tell me... what’s happening next?”

  Emily took a breath, then started to talk.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “WE’RE NEARLY THERE,” CAT SAID. “And then we can rest.”

  Emily glared at him, wondering how he could be so cheerful. The army had left the fort in the early morning and marched south for what felt like hours, passing through a dozen plantations as they made their way towards the castle. There’d been no sign of any threat, no orcs or overseers or monsters... it made her wonder what Rangka was doing. She’d communed with Aurelius regularly, trying to keep an eye on the necromancer, but he’d moved around too quickly for the snake to follow. The only thing she was sure of was that Rangka was up to something.

  She cast her eyes over the landscape, feeling sick. They’d passed through hundreds of villages and towns that had been abandoned decades - centuries - ago and left to decay; they’d seen, not for the first time, just how much damage the necromancers had inflicted on the land. Emily wondered, morbidly, just how they’d done it. Necromancers were insane, but usually not that insane. It made no sense to exterminate their own people, any more than farmers would eat their own seed corn. But... she shuddered. There were times when a farmer had to eat his seed corn or starve before he had a chance to plant it. The necromancers might feel the same.

  The army marched in silence. They’d laughed and joked at first, grinning hugely as they realized they’d won again, only to fall quiet as the Blighted Lands took their toll. Emily had blushed to hear some of the jokes, but now... she would have preferred to hear the jokes, as crude as they were, rather than the oppressive silence. She stared into the distance, remembering what they’d seen the last time they’d approached the castle. It didn’t seem to have changed in the last few days.

  Ice washed down her spine as the castle slowly came into view. It dominated the surrounding city, casting a long shadow over the inhabitants. They knew, all too well, that the castle ruled their lives. She’d seen it before, in Zangaria, but it was different here. The castle belonged to a necromancer, to a lord who literally sucked his people dry. She felt cold as she tried to imagine what growing up in such a place would do to the people. It would make the mountainfolk look civilized.

  Sir Roger called a halt as they reached the edge of the town. It was eerily quiet, even for a city in a necromancer’s thrall. No people - human or otherwise - walked on the streets. No animals prowled through the alleys; no birds flew overhead. Emily shivered, raising her eyes towards the castle. She could sense magic billowing around the fortress, powerful magic. It felt like an unblinking eye was looking at her.

  “Search the houses,” Sir Roger ordered. “Gunners, take position.”

  Emily watched, suspecting she already knew what the searchers would find. The town felt empty. The locals weren’t hiding in their homes, trying to escape the feared sack; they were gone. Where were they? She looked at the castle again and knew the answer. It was fairly customary for local townsfolk to take refuge in the castle if danger threatened, but she doubted anyone would willingly seek shelter with a necromancer. Rangka had gathered his people... for what? She had a horrible feeling she knew precisely what he intended to do.

  The army deployed, horsemen cantering through the empty streets as the gunners unlimbered their cannons and took up position on the edge of town. They should be able to hit the castle, she thought, even though cannons were notoriously inaccurate. The castle was a very big target, after all. She smiled thinly, then sobered as she contemplated the situation. The castle was heavily protected. They were going to have to lay siege and wait...

  She felt the magic spike and looked up, just in time to see a massive fireball shoot out of the castle towards the attackers. It struck a house, setting off a chain of explosions that brought the entire block crashing in ruins. Emily flinched as a wave of tainted magic washed through the air, her skin crawling as it brushed against her. The necromancer was standing on the walls, waving his hands as he cast another spell. She cursed as another fireball lanced towards them. It was a very basic spell, but massively overpowered.

  The guns started to boom, hurling cannonballs towards the castle. Emily doubted they’d have much effect, at least at first. King Randor’s gunners had battered entire castles into rubble, but they’d fired constantly for several days... if the reports were to be believed. The king had also invested in cannons several times the size of more conventional guns... she smiled, then ducked as burning debris flew through the air. The fireballs were getting closer to their targets. Master Lucknow ran forward, waving his arms as he cast a dispersal spell at the next fireball. It disintegrated into a sheet of fire that threatened to set the entire town alight. Emily cursed under her breath. Flaming buildings would pose more of a threat to the invading army than the necromancer.

  Cat caught her arm and dragged her back as another fireball streaked over their head. “I can send in the orcs!”

  “They’ll be killed,” Emily said. She thought she saw it, now. Rangka had copied their tactic, damn it. He would lurk behind his wards, sniping at them with his magic while his orcs covered the road leading up to the castle. And using ritual spells might lead to total disaster if they interacted badly with the dead nexus point. “I think we should...”

  Master Lucknow deflected another fireball. Emily frowned as flames spread from house to house. The necromancer wouldn’t care. It smelt faintly as if the air was turning to poison, as if something dangerous was catching fire. She remembered some of the warnings she’d heard during alchemy classes, grim reminders that certain plants couldn’t be safely burnt without emitting lethal sm
oke. The code of war prohibited their use, against everyone but the necromancers. And the necromancers - and their orcish armies - were unlikely to be troubled by the smoke.

  She watched, grimly, as the gunners continued to pound the castle. Their shells didn’t seem to be doing much damage, although she was sure they were scaring the hell out of the inhabitants. She shook her head in irritation. Rangka wouldn’t be bothered and his was the only opinion that mattered. She turned and led the way to the command tents, which had been hastily erected out of enemy range. The handful of sorcerers standing outside suggested that no one had any confidence they truly were outside enemy range. Emily didn’t blame them. Rangka was getting better at casting overpowered fireballs with each passing shot. It was only a matter of time until one lasted long enough to strike the command tent.

  “He’s got us pinned down,” Sir Roger said. “We can’t tighten our grip on the town...”

  “Which is pointless, as there’s no one and nothing in the town,” Crown Prince Dater put in, his eyes lingering on Emily. “He can’t keep up the fireballs forever, can he?”

  “Probably not,” Emily said. She felt Cat shift beside her. “But if he finds a way to scale down his fireballs, he can keep them coming for quite some time.”

  She thought, fast. Fireballs were boring - everyone said so - but they were practical. They required relatively little skill to cast, they required relatively little power... even if they didn’t kill their target, they’d still do a great deal of damage. Hell, one could splash against a standard ward and still disconcert the person inside. Rangka had found a way to keep them back, to keep them from getting into the castle...

  “He must have tinkered with his own wards to make it work,” Cat mused. “We can throw fireballs back at him, can’t we?”

  “Can you throw them that far?” Emily tossed an idea around and around in her mind. If Rangka really had fiddled with his wards... “It might force him to duck.”

  She shook her head. She doubted it would make that much of an impact. Necromancers had shrugged off far worse blows. A modified force punch might make more of an impact - literally - but for what? Rangka was a lich. Blowing him off the castle and letting him fall several hundred yards wasn’t going to do more than annoy him. Shadye had been very much like him and he’d only been stopped when Emily had wrapped him in a pocket dimension and snapped it out of existence. And that had required a nexus point to work.