Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “You’d prefer to meet me when I’m half-asleep,” Emily muttered. She thought about all the spells she’d invented, all the concepts she’d tested in the spellchambers, when Lady Barb wasn’t beating her into the ground time and time again. How well would they work in a real duel? “Be seeing you.”

  Master Grey nodded curtly and stalked off.

  Emily turned back to stare out over the darkened lands. It would be easy to walk down to the stable, steal a horse and run. The tutors were too busy dealing with the recovering students to patrol the corridors as thoroughly as they normally did...hell, unless Mistress Irene happened to be monitoring the wards closely, they wouldn’t see her slip down the stairs and out into the gardens. A few hours hard riding would get her far enough from Whitehall that she could lose herself in the nearest city-state, changing her face and hair...

  But she was tired of running.

  She glanced up as she heard someone opening the heavy door and stepping out onto the battlements. Her heart sank as she saw Frieda, her face pale, wearing a long white nightgown that reflected the moonlight. The younger girl smiled wanly as she saw Emily, hurrying over to sit next to her. Emily let out a sigh, and wrapped her arm around Frieda’s shivering body. She hadn’t even thought to don a coat before sneaking up to the roof.

  “You should be resting,” she said, leaning into Emily’s embrace. “Tomorrow...”

  “I know,” Emily said. “I have a duel to fight.”

  “You’ll win,” Frieda said. “Caleb is panicking, but you’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

  “I wish I was,” Emily muttered. At least Caleb hadn’t shown up, something she wasn’t sure was a mercy or a curse. It would be nice to kiss him one final time. “He might well kill me.”

  “He won’t,” Frieda said. “You killed two necromancers and a Mimic. I think you’ll beat him.”

  “I had help with the Mimic,” Emily said. It had been her idea, but she’d needed help to make it work. And she’d cheated with the necromancers. Master Grey...wouldn’t allow her any room to cheat. “Frieda...”

  “And you saved me from Mountaintop,” Frieda continued, smoothly. “There isn’t anything you can’t do, if you put your mind to it.”

  Emily rested her head in her hand. “I won’t have a chance to speak to the others,” she said, softly. Jade was still sitting with Alassa - not that she blamed him for putting his fiancée first - and everyone else was still recovering. Imaiqah had opened her eyes briefly, she’d been told, but no one else had shown more than a few weak signs of life. “If I die...”

  “You won’t,” Frieda said.

  “If I die,” Emily repeated, “tell them I’m sorry and...and that there are letters for them, held by Lady Barb.”

  She sighed. She’d given Lady Barb her notebooks, cautioning her to keep them to herself. It wasn’t clear if Master Grey could claim anything she gave away before the duel, but there was no point in taking chances. Lady Barb could use the concepts she’d created, including the nuke-spell, if she felt like it. Or burn them, if she thought they were too dangerous to risk unleashing on the world. She’d been there, after all, when the nuke-spell had been used for the first time. She knew, on a very primal level, just what it could do.

  “You can tell them yourself,” Frieda said. “I have faith in you.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. She rose to her feet, helping the shivering Frieda to stand. “I had better get some rest.”

  Frieda wrapped her arms around Emily and hugged her, tightly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, firmly. “I expect you to win.”

  Emily smiled tiredly, and headed downstairs towards the dorms. Madame Beauregard was standing in front of the door, holding a strap in one hand, but she merely nodded and stood aside when Emily stepped past her. Clearly, she had more important things to worry about than punishing two girls for being out of bounds. Frieda followed Emily into her room and settled down on Alassa’s bed, looking determined to resist any attempt to eject her. Emily shrugged, laid down and closed her eyes. It felt like bare minutes had passed before she heard a knock on the door and sat up. Lady Barb stepped into the room, wearing formal robes.

  “You have to remain in this room until it’s time to go down to the Great Hall,” she said, shortly. “And I can’t let you run any longer.”

  “I understand,” Emily said, climbing out of bed. The cold pit in her stomach was growing worse. “Did you bring my clothes?”

  Lady Barb nodded and held up a set of dueling robes. Emily eyed them warily before standing and heading to the shower. She washed herself thoroughly before returning to the bedroom and getting dressed. As soon as she finished, there was a knock at the door. Lady Barb opened it, accepted the plate of breakfast and placed it on the table in front of Emily. Emily felt her stomach twist in protest as she saw the huge sausages, eggs, bacon and fried potatoes, but forced herself to eat as much as she could. She’d need the energy to fight, when the time came.

  “Leave the rest here; eat if you feel you can,” Lady Barb ordered. She looked Emily up and down, and nodded critically. “Your staff is in the pocket, shrunk down. I suggest you use the next hour to prime it with the spells you intend to use.”

  She glanced at Frieda. “You’d better leave Emily alone now,” she added. “She will need time to think and meditate.”

  “I’m staying with her,” Frieda said, firmly. She crossed her arms under her breasts in stubborn determination. “Someone needs to stay here.”

  Lady Barb glowered at her, clearly reining in her temper. “You have a choice,” she said, flatly. “You can leave now, or I can remove you from the room and send you to face the Warden. Custom dictates that the duelists remain alone until the time comes for them to face one another.”

  “Emily,” Frieda began.

  “Go,” Emily said. The nervousness in her chest was growing worse. “I’ll see you soon enough.”

  Frieda gave her a quick hug, jumped back and fled the room before Lady Barb could catch her. Emily half-hoped she wouldn’t watch the duel - the thought of dying was bad enough, but the thought of dying in front of her friend was worse - yet she knew that it was hard, almost impossible, to deter Frieda once she’d set her heart on something. She would watch the duel.

  The bitter sensation in her stomach grew stronger. Emily swallowed hard, as if she was on the verge of throwing up. All her thoughts, all her plans, might prove to be useless when she stepped into the dueling circle.

  “That’s a good friend you have,” Lady Barb said. “Quite loyal, too.”

  “Please take care of her, afterwards,” Emily said. Frieda had discovered her confidence at Mountaintop, but she wouldn’t have an easy life. “Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

  “My track record for keeping people from doing stupid things isn’t very impressive,” Lady Barb said, darkly. “You should have run.”

  “Not this time,” Emily said, flatly.

  “I hope you’re right and you will survive,” Lady Barb said. She reached out and stroked Emily’s hair. “Good luck.”

  Emily swallowed. “Thank you.”

  Lady Barb nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind her. Emily felt a locking ward slide into place; not strong enough to keep her from leaving, but perfectly capable of alerting Lady Barb if Emily tried to leave. She was trapped. God alone knew what would happen if she was caught trying to escape, now that the duel was barely half an hour away, but she doubted it would be good. Gritting her teeth, she strode to the dressing table and sat down facing the mirror.

  Her face looked back at her, pale and wan. Alassa had told her, more than once, that brushing her hair was relaxing - she made sure to brush her hair one hundred times before bed - but Emily had never seen the attraction. She’d never really seen the point of taking care of herself before Shadye had kidnapped her; if she looked good, she’d feared, it would just mark her out for attention. But now...she looked resolute, as if she’d finally grown into her looks. Her long brown hair fanne
d out around the dark leather shirt, loose enough to allow her to move freely...

  I look like an adult, she thought, suddenly.

  She pushed the thought aside and reached for the hairbrush, brushing her hair before tying it back into a long ponytail. It was relaxing, the monotony of the task helping to calm her thoughts, even though she couldn’t escape the thought of the duel for long. Putting down the hairbrush - she couldn’t be bothered to count the strokes - she reached for the staff, restored it to normal size and started inputting spells, one by one. Master Grey would expect her to use something offensive, she was sure; instead, she intended to use the staff to defend herself, as she’d done when he’d pitted her against the Third Years. It would keep him off balance.

  She hoped.

  The staff seemed to be humming with power when she had finished, dozens of spells ready to be triggered on command. Emily put the staff down and rose to her feet. There was nothing else to do but wait. She tried to force herself to choke down some more food, but her stomach rebelled, threatening to reject everything she’d eaten. Emily reached for a book, glanced at the first page, and shook her head. There was no way she could concentrate on anything but the impending duel.

  She looked back at the mirror, wondering just what the Grandmaster would have thought if he’d seen her. Had he expected her to run? He had to have known that Master Grey would move at once, claiming the right to set the time and place of the duel as soon as the Grandmaster had died. Or had he thought that Master Grey would wait? Or that someone the Grandmaster had known would pressure Master Grey to abandon the duel? Or...

  There was a knock on the door. “Come in!”

  Lady Barb entered, holding a staff of her own in one hand. “It’s time,” she said. “Emily...”

  “Don’t worry,” Emily said. She had to fight down the overwhelming urge to run. “I made my choice.”

  “Yes, you did,” Lady Barb said. “Come with me.”

  Emily nodded. “Who’s his second?”

  “Lady Daniele,” Lady Barb said. The name meant nothing to Emily. “She’s a Mediator, one of his former apprentices. Not someone to be underestimated.”

  “I know,” Emily said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Lady Barb’s lips thinned. “I told the Grandmaster I thought that I couldn’t give you the harsh training you needed without snapping your mind,” she said, flatly. He face was impassive, as if she were determined to show no sign of emotion. “You would not have responded well, I think, to me acting like him. If I’d said anything else...”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Emily repeated. She wanted the older woman to believe that, if nothing else. “And thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  Head held high, she walked out of the room, through the corridors and into the Great Hall.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  THE GREAT HALL WAS BRIGHTLY LIT when she stepped through the door, the tables and chairs cleared away and a large dueling circle drawn on the floor. Mistress Irene stood beside a handful of the staff, while over forty students stood leaning against the stone walls, watching and waiting as the two duelists entered the chamber. Master Grey waited on the other side of the dueling circle, his eyes meeting Emily as soon as she appeared and never leaving her face. A dark-skinned woman with long white hair - Lady Daniele, Emily assumed - stood next to him. There was a tart expression on her face, as if she’d bitten into something unpleasant. If Sergeant Miles had refused to serve as Master Grey’s second, Emily wondered, what pressure had he put on Lady Daniele to take the role?

  She refused to show any sign of fear as she walked up to the edge of the circle, feeling almost as if she were watching herself from outside. The wards gently pressed against her magic; she tested them, satisfying herself that they only served as protective walls, rather than reflecting spells in all directions. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Master Grey bouncing a spell off the wards and striking her in the back. She’d had that happen to her once before and it had been embarrassing, to say the least. Perhaps, part of her mind noted, she should have paid more attention in dueling lessons. They had seemed immaterial to her, at Mountaintop, but now they would have come in handy.

  But he still has two decades on me, she thought bleakly, as Lady Barb stepped up behind Emily. And he was trained at Mountaintop.

  Mistress Irene cleared her throat. “The challenged may choose to refuse the duel,” she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. She turned to look at Master Grey. “Are you insistent on accepting the challenge?”

  “I am,” Master Grey said, simply.

  A low rustle ran through the chamber. Emily understood; it wasn’t common for the referee to remind the challenged - Master Grey - that he could refuse the duel. Mistress Irene was asking him, all but begging him, to withdraw his acceptance. But Emily wasn’t surprised at his refusal. He’d set out to kill her, after all. There was literally nothing she could offer him that would compensate for turning down the challenge. He couldn’t repay Fulvia whatever he owed her if he let Emily go.

  Bitch, Emily thought, coldly. Melissa had told her that Fulvia could be vindictive, but she’d never expected anything like this. She’d let the world burn just so she could have her revenge.

  She gritted her teeth, fighting down the urge to wipe her sweaty palms against her trousers. It hadn’t been easy, forcing herself to use a memory charm to re-watch the one duel she’d seen him fight, but she’d done it. He always let his opponent strike first...Emily hoped - feared - that her first strike would be fatal, yet she had her doubts. Master Grey was not only experienced, he was more flexible and adaptable than she was. She felt her heartbeat start to pound in her chest - so loudly that she thought everyone could hear it - as Mistress Irene started to speak for the second time.

  “Then I must remind the contestants of the rules,” Mistress Irene said, coldly. “You must enter the circle, which will then be sealed...”

  Get on with it, Emily thought, as the Charms Mistress droned on. Was she stalling for time? Expecting Void to burst in or Emily to flee? Or, perhaps, to strike at Master Grey before they entered the circle? It was futile; even if she’d found a way to kill him before they fought, she would have been the prime suspect. Who else would have had a motive to kill him?

  She raised her eyes to the gathered students and instantly regretted it. Frieda was standing with a couple of Second Years, her eyes shining as she watched; Melissa was standing alone, her arms crossed under her breasts. There was no sign of Caleb or Jade; Emily was almost relieved. They might be stuck helping the demon’s victims, but at least they wouldn’t have to watch the duel. She wanted to send Frieda away, but she knew it was too late. The younger girl would just have to watch.

  “The contestants will now be searched,” Mistress Irene said.

  Emily gritted her teeth as Lady Daniele walked around the circle, stopped in front of Emily and patted her down without enthusiasm. One finger touched the snake-bracelet, clearly parsing out the spell, before motioning to Emily to remove it. Had Master Grey deduced the snake’s existence from Nanette’s injury, if he’d seen it? Or had someone told him? Emily pushed the thought aside - there was no way to know, beyond asking a very revealing question - removed the bracelet, and passed it to Lady Barb. She’d know to keep the snake under control if Emily died. Anyone else would get a very unwelcome surprise.

  Lady Daniele cleared her throat - Emily was sure, just for a moment, that she was going to insist on taking the bracelet herself - before she thought better of it. Emily was almost relieved. It was clear that Lady Daniele wasn’t a willing participant; she didn’t deserve to find herself holding a lethal snake. She watched as Lady Barb searched Master Grey, finding nothing. Master Grey hadn’t deigned to bring anything more than his staff and dueling robes.

  He doesn’t need to cheat, her own thoughts mocked her.

  “You may now enter the circle,” Mistress Irene said, finally.

  Emily had to force herself to step for
ward. The circle’s wards rose up around her, thrumming with power, fading as she passed through them. They’d block anyone from leaving now, she knew; they wouldn’t fall until one of them was dead. She wondered, absurdly, if the wards couldn’t be dismantled from outside? What would have happened if they’d come to a peaceful resolution at the very last minute?

  Concentrate on the fight, she advised herself, sternly. This is no time for your mind to wander.

  Master Grey leaned on his staff, his eyes following her every move. Emily declined the unspoken offer of a staring contest; instead, she braced herself and allowed her magic to flicker against her own staff. The spells responded to her touch, ready and raring to defend her against all threats. They’d buy her time to cast more aggressive spells of her own. It was unusual, according to the books, but workable. Besides, a conventional duel would give him all the advantages. She tested the floor - the wards pervaded it, holding the stone in place - and sighed inwardly. One of her concepts was doomed before the duel even began.

  There are alternatives, she thought, darkly. But they will have to be used under pressure.

  She pushed the thought aside as Mistress Irene walked to a point, just outside the circle, where she could see everything. Emily had no idea why she even bothered - it wasn’t as if there was any way to actually cheat - but it hardly mattered. Maybe she just wanted a solid memory to show Void, later. He was Emily’s Guardian of Record...

  “You may begin,” Mistress Irene said.

  Emily braced herself, then relaxed and triggered the first defensive spells. Master Grey quirked an eyebrow - he’d clearly expected her to launch a devastating offensive as her first move - but did nothing, apart from watching her. Emily solidified her defenses and gathered herself.

  Master Grey did nothing...nothing she could see.

  She couldn’t help wondering if he was mocking her, or if he had a plan of his own. Lady Barb had warned her, after all, that he wouldn’t waste time. A duel to the death was no place to show off.