Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20)

by Christopher Nuttall

  And I can’t reignite the nexus point without getting through him and I can’t go through him without reigniting the nexus point, she thought. What the hell is he doing?

  Master Lucknow stepped inside. “He’s holding his castle together through sheer force of will,” he said. “The cannonballs aren’t doing enough damage.”

  “Then we’ll have to just keep up the bombardment,” Sir Roger said. His eyes turned to Emily. “If he comes into the open, you can get him. Right?”

  “Yes.” Emily wasn’t sure that was true, but she knew she couldn’t afford to show doubt. “If nothing else, we can force him to keep expending his energy.”

  She took a breath. “I need to think,” she said. “Give me a moment.”

  Cat glanced at her. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Keep your orcs under control,” Emily advised. She needed to be alone, just long enough to sort out what she wanted to do. And to try to keep the oath in check long enough to put together a plan. “The fireballs are bound to make them nervous.”

  She turned and hurried outside. The town was burning brightly, flames darting from house to house. The stench of burning oil hung in the air. She recoiled, blinking rapidly as she hurried away from the town. A cluster of tents had already been set up, well out of range. Penny stood on guard outside one. Emily nodded to her, then stepped inside. The tent was empty. Lady Barb was back at the fort.

  That must be irritating for her, Emily thought. Penny had been left in charge of their luggage, if only because she had nothing else to do. She’ll be hopping mad she wasn’t in at the death.

  Sure, her thoughts answered, mockingly. Whose death?

  Emily hunted through her knapsack for her notes, then sat on the ground and closed her eyes. Flickers of magic darted through the air, fragments of spellwork from the fireballs and hints of deeper, darker magic from the town itself. The flames had to be igniting everything, including potion ingredients. Emily couldn’t remember seeing an apothecary in the town, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t. Rangka might have been experimenting with potions as well as everything else. Who knew what he could do? There were plenty of potions that worked, technically, but killed anyone foolish enough to drink them. Rangka’s body was already a rotting corpse. What did he have to lose?

  Whatever remains of his life, Emily thought, as she reached out with her mind. He’s so desperate to live, he’ll throw everyone else into the fire.

  She kept her eyes closed as she made mental contact with her familiar. Aurelius was curled up near the knapsack, the untouched knapsack. Rangka had dismissed it as unimportant, clearly believing the knapsack’s owner was dead. She supposed he had good reason to believe that. He’d snapped her neck... the memory nearly threw her back out of the trance. She’d died in that castle... she felt a sudden urge to bolt, to jump to her feet and run as fast as she could. Only the oath, clinging to her mind, kept her sitting down.

  And it will get in my way again, she reminded herself. I have to be careful.

  She reached out and peered through the snake’s eyes. There was no sign of the necromancer, but she could feel hints of magic from above. She directed the snake to uncurl and head upwards, her perspective shifting madly as Aurelius headed up a pipe far too small for any human. She’d been transfigured before - she’d been frogs and rats and dozens of small objects - but peering through the snake’s eyes was worse. She felt caught between the impression of herself as a tiny creature and a full-sized human, so large she might as well be a giant. She smiled in grim amusement. Aurelius was tiny. To him, of course she was a giant.

  The pipe felt weird as the snake crawled towards the magic. Emily frowned, unsure what was wrong. Something was missing. She smiled suddenly as she realized what it was. No rats, no mice, no human waste... no nothing. The castle might as well have been abandoned centuries ago. No, it was worse than that. Something had sucked all the life out of the upper levels, so completely that even the rodents and vermin and bacteria were dead. She shuddered as Aurelius poked his head through a grill and peered into a large chamber, then recoiled as the stench hit his nostrils. He’d found the missing townspeople.

  Emily shuddered, nearly losing contact with the snake. The townspeople were being sacrificed, one by one. Rangka walked in, killed one for power and life, then walked out again to hurl more fireballs at the army. She swallowed hard, nearly throwing up as she saw the orcs devouring the bodies. The necromancer would be able to harvest enough power - and food - to keep the battle going indefinitely. And...

  We could be here for weeks, she thought, numbly. She could sense Rangka’s power pervading the castle walls. It was his place of power. The bombardment isn’t more than a minor itch to him.

  An idea crossed her mind. Aurelius was a death viper. It would be easy to slip into the chamber and kill everyone. The rotting touch alone would be lethal. If the orcs grabbed him, they’d regret it. The snake quivered, starting to move towards the first victim before she stopped him. She couldn’t kill hundreds of people, men and women and children, because it would be convenient. She couldn’t sentence the entire town to death. And yet, they were doomed anyway. If Rangka kept sacrificing them...

  They’ll be dead within a week if we leave them alone, she told herself. If I kill them now...

  Emily shook her head, then steered the snake back to a safe hiding place. She couldn’t slaughter the entire town, and that meant she needed another option. She waited for the snake to reach safety, then broke the mental contact. Her body ached, again, as she opened her eyes. It was growing harder to separate herself from the snake. The tent felt both tiny and immensely huge.

  She glanced at her notes, memorizing the spell. She’d intended to use it before, back when she’d confronted King Randor. He’d been quick enough to take the valve out before she’d been able to trigger the spell. Her heart sank as she remembered Void’s file. Rangka would have no reason to recognize the threat, but Randor hadn’t either. And he’d still blocked her from deploying the spell.

  He’d seen pistols and other small weapons, Emily thought. He knew it could be dangerous even if he didn’t know what it was.

  Emily stood. “Penny!”

  Penny pushed open the flap and peered inside. “Emily?”

  “Go tell Cat I have a plan,” Emily said. “And ask him to meet me here.”

  Penny’s face darkened, but she merely nodded and hurried off. Emily felt a flicker of guilt. She had no authority over Penny, certainly nowhere near enough to order the older girl around like a servant. But there was no time to waste. Cat was the only one who knew anything about the spell. If she failed, he’d have to try. She picked up the valves and started to charm them, one by one. The spell had been designed to work without a valve and battery, but she didn’t have time. Rangka would sense her arrival as soon as she entered the castle.

  The flap opened. Cat peered inside. “I have a plan,” Emily said, before Cat could say a word. “Once the wards go down, order the gunners to stop firing and send in the infantry to secure the castle. Not the orcs. There’re prisoners in the castle.”

  Cat blinked. “Emily? What?”

  “I have a plan,” Emily repeated. The oath was starting to push her on, making it hard to think. She hooked the battery and valves to her belt. “Come to think of it, have Master Lucknow harass his wards with tangle fire.”

  “That won’t harm them,” Cat pointed out. “It’ll just annoy him.”

  “Good.” Emily braced herself and closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar bond. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Wait!” Cat caught her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “He fiddled with his wards,” Emily said. The idea sounded good. She knew it would work... if it didn’t, the spell should refuse to form at all. She wouldn’t scatter her atoms across a hundred miles. “If I tune the teleport spell just right, using the familiar bond as a beacon, I can get inside. And then I can give him the fight of his life.”


  “Emily.” Cat shook his head. “Wait. Please...”

  “Tell them.” Emily could barely keep herself still. The oath was asserting itself, insisting she teleport now. “Cat, if this doesn’t work, my notes are in my bag. Use them.”

  Cat opened his mouth, but Emily couldn’t hesitate any longer. She cast the teleport spell...

  ... And the world went away in a flash of bright white light.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  EMILY LANDED, BADLY.

  She stumbled as the darkness pressed in on her, oozing like a living thing. She felt as if she’d entered the lair of a wild animal, an animal that could come out of the shadows and attack at any moment. She didn’t need to extend her senses to find the necromancer, lurking somewhere above. His power pervaded the stone, pulsing though the castle as he sacrificed his people and lashed out at the besiegers below. She gathered herself quickly and cast a night-vision spell, glancing around with interest as the shadows parted. The stone walls looked as if they’d been clawed by someone - or something - utterly inhuman. There was no character to the castle at all.

  Which you already knew, she told herself, as Aurelius crawled up her leg and wrapped himself around her wrist. The necromancers have nothing, no desires beyond a lust for power.

  She worked quickly, tapping the battery into the valve and casting the spell. Rangka would know she’d arrived, unless she’d overestimated his potency. It was vaguely possible that his magic had blinded his senses, but she didn’t dare take that for granted. The mimic-spell sparkled to life, a faint cluster of glowing pieces of spellwork that steadily grew into a lattice of magic. Emily let out a breath as eerie light shone through the chamber. Stripped of the glamors and illusions woven into the spell, it was impossible to believe the mimic had ever been anything else. But spellwork on such a complex scale was almost unknown.

  No wonder they thought it was a living thing, she reminded herself, as she stood and headed down the corridor. The mimic-spell would take time to form. She’d have to buy it some time, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with a necromancer. He’s going to be very surprised when he sees my face.

  She found a staircase and kept walking, feeling Rangka’s power grow stronger as he sacrificed more and more townspeople. He’d had to have bred them for magic, she thought numbly; he was clearly draining them for power as well as life. She wondered why none of the townspeople had ever rebelled, then kicked herself. A low-level magician with no formal training could never hope to stand against - or escape - a necromancer. Rangka would have killed or enslaved anyone who tried. She remembered the overseers and shuddered. Perhaps they’d been human once, before the necromancers had taken them prisoner and reworked them into something inhuman. The poor bastards wouldn’t have anywhere to go. It wasn’t as if demihumans were welcome in the Allied Lands.

  The power beat on the air, faint shockwaves echoing through the stone. She kept moving, not bothering to hide. Rangka knew she was there. She rounded the corner and saw a pair of overseers standing by a giant stone door. They turned to look at her, just as she cast a spell to pick up the debris and throw it at them. Their bodies disintegrated under the impact, leaving bloodstains on the floor. Emily glanced at the too-bright blood and shuddered. She’d never thought the necromancers could perform such complex spellwork. Perhaps the overseers had been created by someone - or something - darker.

  Or perhaps they’re nothing more than enslaved demihumans, she thought, as she studied the door. They could have been forced into servitude long ago.

  She touched the door lightly. A pair of wards, surprisingly complex for a necromancer, barred her way. Emily concentrated, trying to decide if she should take them down piece by piece or simply snap them. The necromancer hadn’t woven as much power into the wards as she’d expected. And it would give him a shock, make him angry... her lips twitched in a moment of dark humor as she readied herself. Most people wouldn’t want to make a necromancer mad...

  Her power billowed around her as she pushed against the wards, then snapped them and smashed the door. The stone shattered, pieces of debris crashing to the floor. Emily stepped through the dust and peered across the giant room. Dozens of townspeople stared at her, torn between fear of their master and fear of her. Rangka himself stood at the far end of the chamber, holding a young man in one hand as he drained his life. Emily hastily readied a spell, too late. The necromancer snapped his victim’s neck and dropped the body to the ground. It was hard to read any emotion in his red eyes, but Emily thought he was shocked. He’d killed so many, yet... surely he remembered her.

  She had no time to think about it. She directed a spell at the nearest door, shattering it. The townspeople cringed - to them, she had to look as terrifying as their master - as chunks of debris flew everywhere. A pair of orcs started forward, only to be stopped in their tracks. Emily had no time for half-measures. She could sense the necromancer’s power building for a single deadly blow.

  “Get out,” she shouted. She jabbed a finger at the door, suddenly unsure if they spoke her language. The villagers had, but they’d had more contact with the Allied Lands. “Move!”

  The necromancer’s power surged. Emily jumped to one side as a blinding flash of light tore past her and smashed through the wall. Her hair prickled, wanting to stand on end as she caught herself and hurled back a handful of spells of her own. They wouldn’t do more than slow the necromancer down, for a few seconds, but they should buy his slaves a chance to run and escape. They could hide in the warrens until the fighting was over.

  “Die,” Rangka snarled. He sounded more coherent than she’d expected, given how much power he’d been consuming. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Shadye and Dua Kepala had both been able to hold a conversation. “You... die!”

  “I died,” Emily said. She knew she had to stall him a few minutes longer. “I came back.”

  Rangka stared at her, reddish eyes glowing with anger - and fear. Did he know what she’d done? Her other self had disintegrated when he’d snapped her neck... did he know about bilocation? Had he guessed she’d used it to be in two places at once? He’d had far more education than Shadye, far more understanding of how magic actually worked... did he know what she’d done? Or did he believe she’d risen from the dead? There were stories about sorcerers who’d tried to resurrect their loved ones. Those stories never ended well.

  Keep him talking, she told herself. His attention was fixed on her, while his slaves were making their escape. Keep him talking until the spell is ready.

  “You’re dead.” Rangka’s voice was raspy, as if he wasn’t used to talking. “I saw you die.”

  “I came back,” Emily said, again. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

  Magic surged, again. Emily threw herself up, levitating into the air as another blast of raw power smashed through a handful of walls. Dust started to fall from above, the trickle becoming a torrent as the roof started to cave in. Emily ducked down, hastily catching pieces of debris with her magic and throwing them at him. Rangka staggered under the blows, then reshaped his magic into a sphere and thrust it out. Emily grunted as the blow slammed into her, throwing her through the crack in the wall. The necromancer came after her, too late. She picked herself up and dodged his next blow.

  “You’ll die here,” Rangka snarled. His magic blurred into the floor, molten stone reaching for her. “You’ll die.”

  Not much of a conversationalist, Emily thought, as she jumped back again and froze the floor in place. It wouldn’t stop him for long, but it would force him to expend his power before she started to lead him downstairs. How did he manage to convince the others to join him?

  The floor disintegrated. Rangka drove the dust onwards, throwing her back. Emily hastily conjured a gust of wind, blowing the dust back into his face. The necromancer seemed unbothered by the haze, walking forward with a cool determination that suggested he was unstoppable. Emily smiled, then turned the dust to gunpowder and hurled a fireball into the clo
ud. The explosion probably wouldn’t do anything more than annoy him, but she’d bet good money it had to be disorienting. He might not even realize what she’d done.

  Rangka picked up speed, one decomposing hand reaching for her neck. Emily jumped up again, levitating through the crack in the ceiling. The necromancer’s power reached after her, grabbing hold and yanking her back down. Emily braced herself, then slammed her power into what remained of the ceiling and threw it down at him, breaking eye contact. His grip on her snapped as he stumbled back, allowing her to cast a series of illusions to confuse him. Rangka levitated himself, then snapped a simple cancellation spell. The illusions popped out of existence.

  Emily cursed under her breath as he turned to face her. Shadye had wasted energy blasting each and every one of the illusions, giving her time to prepare the killer blow. Rangka had other options. She steadied herself, watching him warily. His power was holding steady. It felt as if he were waiting for her to do something.

  He leaned forward. “Why do you fight?”

  “Because you have to be stopped,” Emily said. She checked the time. A few more seconds and she could start leading him downstairs. “I came back to stop you.”

  Rangka snorted. “You think I have to be stopped?”

  “Yes.” Emily briefly considered trying to explain why, if only to buy time, but it was pointless. Rangka was well beyond conventional morality. Even if he understood what she said to him, he could hardly give up necromancy without sentencing himself to death. “I will stop you.”