Little Witches
(Schooled in Magic XXI)
Christopher G. Nuttall
Twilight Times Books
Kingsport Tennessee
Little Witches
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Christopher G. Nuttall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
Twilight Times Books
P O Box 3340
Kingsport TN 37664
http://twilighttimesbooks.com/
First Edition, December 2020
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter
Published in the United States of America.
Dedication
To Mel Lee Newmin, who was kind enough to let me borrow the title. Please check out her short story—and others—in Fantastic Schools I and II.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue I
Prologue II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Appendix: A Brief Recap
Appendix: Laughter Academy of the Magical Arts
Appendix: The Magical Community
Prologue I
THE WHITE CITY FELT... DIFFERENT.
Gordian, Grandmaster of Whitehall, felt a chill run down his spine as he walked down the road leading towards the Imperial Palace. He’d grown up in the White City, learned to play the political game practically from the moment he could walk, but... everything was different now. The nexus point - the reawakened nexus point - pulsed in the distance, a constant frisson of raw power that was both awesome and terrifying. The grand mansions, houses, and apartment blocks that made up the core of the city, felt washed out, once-impregnable wards melting like snow in the first days of spring. Gordian shivered, helplessly, as he walked past a pair of open gates. The city had been largely abandoned, its citizens choosing to decamp and abandon their property. Gordian didn’t blame them. It was impossible to escape the sensation that the city was suddenly very fragile, that the merest cough might send it tumbling into ruin. The longer he stayed within the city, the more he feared the worst.
He forced himself to keep going, even as the tales he’d been told about the city’s distant past haunted his mind. The White City had been the seat of the Emperors, the most powerful magicians in the known world. They’d tamed the nexus point and build their palace amidst its flames. And their successors had built over their works as shellfish might build their nests within a sunken boat, with no more awareness of what the Emperors had done than the shellfish might have of humanity. Gordian had heard that some brave souls had recently ventured into the Imperial Palace, in hopes of laying claim to power beyond the dreams of magicians and necromancers. They’d gone in. None had returned.
The sense of looming disaster grew stronger as he reached the park and trudged down to the lake. He had many happy memories of sailing toy boats in the water, when he’d been a lad, but now strange lights were clearly visible under the waves. The proud swans he’d fed were gone. He’d been told the city had been deserted by its animal population the day the nexus point had come back to life. Even the zookeepers had been unable to keep their charges from escaping. Gordian wondered, sourly, if that made the animals smarter than their human counterparts. The humans had only decamped when it became clear that their wards were steadily failing. And who knew what would happen when they died completely?
Master Lucknow stood at the edge of the lake, staring into the glowing waters. Gordian coughed, although he was sure the older sorcerer had sensed his presence the moment he’d entered the park. He wasn’t sure why Master Lucknow had insisted on meeting in the park, within the deserted city, although he had to admit it would be effectively impossible for someone to spy on them. The finest scryers in the Allied Lands had tried to peer into the city, in hopes of finding out what was going on. They’d reported that it was like staring into the sun.
“Grandmaster.” Master Lucknow turned to face him, his eyes shadowed and grim. “Kalians is dead.”
Gordian felt a flicker of cold amusement. “I remember a time when that would be considered good news.”
“It was how he died that interested me,” Master Lucknow said. “Would you care to guess how it happened?”
Gordian said nothing for a long moment. Kalians had been a necromancer, his territories on the very southern edge of the Blighted Lands. He’d never been considered a serious threat. He would have had to punch his way through at least two other necromancers before reaching the Craggy Mountains, if the march itself didn’t kill him and his slaves. The Allied Lands had assumed Kalians would be picked off by one of his rivals, if he didn’t kill himself. There hadn’t seemed any reason to be particularly worried about him.
“A bunch of young sorcerers teleported south,” Master Lucknow said. “They took one of Lady Emily’s batteries” - the word was a curse - “with them. They used a wardcracking spell to break the necromancer’s wards, allowing his own power to consume him. And then they seized his lands.”
Gordian’s eyes narrowed as he realized where the conversation was going. “They seized a nexus point.”
“Quite.” Master Lucknow turned away. “They have effectively declared independence from the White Council and the Allied Lands. Given that they own and control a nexus point, winkling them out may take some time.”
“If it can be done at all,” Gordian said. “The precedents are clear. Whoever seizes a necromancer’s territory has an unchallengeable claim.”
“Yes,” Master Lucknow said. “But their willingness to seize the territory and stake a claim bodes ill for the future.”
“They’re not the first,” Gordian said. “Lord Cat seized control of Kuching Castle. Alluvia is seriously considering digging its own way through the Craggy Mountains. Dragora is thinking about sending ships to the southern coastline and establishing military colonies...”
Master Lucknow made an impatient sound. “That isn’t the point.”
Gordian met his eyes, evenly. “A year ago, we were on the verge of defeat. These are the problems of
victory.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Master Lucknow waved his hand, dismissively. “But they are problems.”
He paced as he spoke, ticking off points on his fingers. “The old conflicts between kingdoms have started to reignite. There have been border skirmishes between seven or eight kingdoms as monarchs press their claims to disputed territory. Cities have sought to secure their independence from neighboring kingdoms. Swindlers like Vesperian have triggered off a dozen crises, just like he did. Religious nuts are promising a whole new world. Magical and merchant families are even considering ways to make land grabs themselves, or - at the very least - secure their own independence from the rest of the world. My source at Laughter has gone quiet, but something is clearly happening there.
“And, working in the shadows, revolutionary movements are threatening to overthrow their monarchs and create a new world.”
Gordian frowned. “It’s that bad?”
“Yes.” Master Lucknow made a face. “And all of these problems can be traced back to one person.”
“Lady Emily,” Gordian said.
“Yes,” Master Lucknow said. “We only tolerated her because the necromancers feared her. And now the necromancers are gone.”
“Effectively gone,” Gordian pointed out.
“Effectively gone,” Master Lucknow echoed. “A year ago, challenging a necromancer in his lair would have been suicide. Now... it can be done. We no longer... need... such a disruptive influence.”
His voice hardened. “The batteries alone, Grandmaster, have changed the world.”
Gordian nodded. There’d been no way to store magic long-term, not without a nexus point, until Emily had devised the batteries. Gordian didn’t know how they worked, but it was just a matter of time until someone outside the charmed circle cracked the secret. Knowing something was possible was half the battle. And the batteries were, in many ways, the least of it. The New Learning was spreading rapidly. He’d heard the stories. Gunpowder weapons that put the power to kill in the hands of untrained commoners, a written alphabet and printing presses that allowed commoners to write, read and print books, steam engines and railways that raised the promise of binding the Allied Lands closer together... he owed Emily much, he admitted sourly, but he couldn’t avoid admitting she was disruptive.
She’s not a bad person, he conceded, privately. But that only makes her more dangerous.
“And we are in no state to deal with the crisis,” Master Lucknow said. He waved a hand towards the distant palace. “The White Council has been scattered. There’s no guarantee it will be able to reform, certainly not as anything effective.”
“As if it ever was,” Gordian said.
“It worked, well enough,” Master Lucknow said. “It kept us from indulging in self-destructive wars. But now the threat that bound us together is gone. We no longer need her.”
“We owe her,” Gordian said.
“Gratitude is a luxury we cannot afford,” Master Lucknow said. “She goes to Whitehall and turns the school upside down. She goes to Mountaintop and turns the school upside down, nearly destroying it in the process before giving the school to a person unsuited for the role. She plays a major role in sparking a civil war within a powerful kingdom; she plays another role in heading off a civil war within another kingdom. And she’s unpredictable. What will she do next?”
His eyes hardened. “She must be stopped. Now. Before it’s too late.”
Gordian let out a breath. It wouldn’t be easy to stop a person who’d gone toe-to-toe with a small army of necromancers. Emily might not know it - Gordian had often thought there was something odd about her, a strange lack of awareness of the world - but she had friends and allies who would start a full-scale war if she was harmed. And, of course, her father could hardly be ignored. Emily and Void were, perhaps, the two scariest people in the world.
He looked at his companion. “What do you have in mind?”
“I have a plan,” Master Lucknow said. “It will require your cooperation.”
Gordian hesitated, then committed himself. “What do you want from me?”
Master Lucknow told him.
Prologue II
DANIEL STAYED LOW AS HE REACHED the bottom of the Howling Peaks and paused for breath, heart thudding in his head as he looked from side to side and up the mountainside. The giant trees seemed to form an impassable barrier between the road and the school high above, a barrier he knew was nothing more than illusion. It was easy to navigate the trees if one had grown up in the mountains. And yet... He hesitated, torn between the determination to make a name for himself and a flicker of fear. Trying to reach the school was a rite of passage for the young men of Pendle, yet... he’d heard the stories. Those who got to the school without being caught were rewarded, he’d been told, but those who got caught...
A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn’t that bad, he’d been assured. And yet... he remembered Blair, a bullying blowhard of a lad who’d come down from the mountains and fled into the distance, leaving his home and family behind with nary a word to his friends and loved ones. Daniel had known Blair too well to think that anything minor could have convinced him to run. It was suddenly easy to believe the darker stories, the suggestions that the witches did unspeakable things to young men... he shivered, again. The urge to just turn around and go home was almost overpowering. What was it worth, really, to slap his hand against the school’s walls?
And yet, he knew he’d be called a coward if he turned and ran.
He cursed under his breath as he walked off the road and into the trees. There was no hope of escaping the rumors, once he was branded a coward. The witches themselves would happily confirm they hadn’t so much as laid eyes on him, let alone hexed him or cursed him or done anything to him. He knew the girls, from their weekend excursions to the town. Some were friendly, some looked down on the local lads... all were distant from the townspeople, even the ones who’d been born in the town. A local girl had gone up to the school and come back a very different person. They’d tattle on him. They’d think it was funny.
The wind whistled through the trees, the shadows growing darker - somehow - as the sun started to sink behind the distant mountains. It was meant to be safe near the school, in twilight, but Daniel still felt hopelessly exposed as he flitted from tree to tree. Everyone knew the truly dangerous creatures only came out after night fell completely, yet... it wasn’t very reassuring now that he was well away from the road. He clambered over a dry gully, carefully avoiding a pool of water on the upper ridge. They could be very dangerous, he knew. Anything could be hiding within the pool. Anything at all.
Sweat trickled down his back as he forced himself to move faster. He’d picked his time very carefully. The majority of the witches - the student witches, at least - would be in the town, swaggering around in their cloaks and hats and flirting with the older boys. The older witches would either be supervising their charges or taking the opportunity to have a rest before the younger witches returned to the castle. Daniel had heard stories of what happened behind the high stone walls, stories he wasn’t sure he believed but listened to anyway. The older witches had to be pushed to the limit by their students. They wouldn’t have time to monitor the approaches to the school. Or so he hoped.
They’ll be coming back up soon, he reminded himself. You have to hurry.
His arms and legs started to ache. He thought he saw things in the darkness, sensed unseen eyes looking at him. The sense of threat grew stronger, making him ball his fists even though he knew it was probably useless. The Other Folk - the Awful Folk - were supposed to have agreements with the witches, although no one knew for sure. Anything powerful or nasty enough to ignore those agreements was unlikely to be troubled by him. He’d heard those stories too.
He reached a clearing and stopped, trying to gauge the time. The darkness was swelling rapidly now, sweeping majestically over the land. It wouldn’t be long before the witches started walking or flying back to the castle
, showing off as they glided over the mountains and landed on the castle battlements. He felt a twinge of envy, mingled with something he didn’t dare try to put into words. Magic ran strong, in the folk of Pendle. He might have magic himself. And if he did, he would be sent away to study. He might never be welcome within the town again.
And if I get to the walls and back, he thought, I’ll be a hero...
His ankles snapped together, hard enough to hurt. Daniel toppled over, landing face-first in the muddy ground. Realization dawned a second later. Hexed. He’d been hexed. His ankles were held together by an invisible force that felt like iron, impossible to break no matter how hard he struggled. He forced himself to roll over and try to pull himself up by his arms alone. Hexes didn’t last, he’d been told. He could hide himself until the magic wore off and then make his way back to the town. He’d be ribbed for being caught, but he was far from the only one to fail to reach the walls. Very few young men had ever made it there.
And then he saw the witch.
She was strikingly pale, her blonde hair practically glowing despite the darkening air. Her dark dress seemed to blend with the shadows. She couldn’t be more than two or three years older than he was, although it was never easy to tell with a witch. She was beautiful, practically perfect compared to the hardworking girls in the town below. She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her, a faint expression on her face that suggested she shouldn’t be in the forest any more than himself. Daniel forced himself to sit up and smile, trying to look harmless. His ankles were still bound together. There was no way he could get to her, or get away, before she zapped him. All he could do was concede he’d been caught and hope she didn’t do anything worse to him. He’d be ribbed mercilessly for that, too.
The witch looked at him. Daniel had the oddest feeling she wasn’t really seeing him. The witches looked down on the magic-less townsfolk; even the nicer ones considered themselves a cut above the rest, but this one... he braced himself, trying to inch away from her as best as he could. If she wasn’t really aware of him, perhaps he could get away.
Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21) Page 1