Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Emily gritted her teeth. Jens had always been a supremacist, but Simon could have stroked her feelings and convictions until they became a great deal worse. Hell, she might not be his only victim. Emily could easily see him weaving his way into a dozen minds, until he had his pick of operatives on the inside... operatives who didn’t know they were under his control. It was quite possible that Damia or Brier or even Duchene was under his spell. Or Nadine... Emily cursed under her breath. Nadine’s mind had been damaged by the intruder. It might be a great deal harder for her to tell if someone had damaged her further...

  I can’t trust anyone, Emily thought. She kicked herself, mentally, for not having thought to send a message to Jan or Lady Barb or someone. Cat would have come, if she’d asked; he might even have brought his apprentice with him. Anyone who’s been too close to the chat parchments might have been influenced.

  She crested the hill and flew over the forest towards the Redoubt. The ruined castle looked faintly sinister in the darkening sky. Emily glanced at the setting sun, trying to calculate the time. Late afternoon, perhaps... it couldn’t be much later than five bells. She had time, plenty of time, before midnight. Unless the spell could be cast before midnight... she shook her head. It was rare, vanishingly rare, for a spell to depend upon such frivolities. It would be easier to believe the spell needed virgins to cast it properly...

  Emily cursed under her breath. What was the spell intended to do? Raise Pendle? It seemed absurd, for all the reasons she’d gone over time and time again. Or do something else? She stared at the mountain, remembering the enslaved dragon she’d encountered a year or so ago. Another dragon? Or a demon? Or what? The spell was clearly designed to summon something.

  Stop them first, she told herself. And then worry about what they intended to do later.

  She made a face. It would be easy to believe - she wanted to believe - that Dionne and the others were truly responsible for their actions. She’d met enough queen bees and wannabe queen bees to find the entire breed distasteful. They could make life miserable for anyone who didn’t meet their extracting standards, or happened to be prettier or richer or whatever than them. And yet, with Simon meddling with their minds, who knew how much blame they truly bore? He’d taken an aspect of their personalities and strengthened it until it overwhelmed everything else. Emily felt sick as she contemplated the possibilities. Simon could have turned the girls into his harem, if he’d wished. It wouldn’t have been that hard...

  A spark of magic darted through the air. Emily blinked as her flying spell started to come part. She tried to weave it back together, but it was already too late. The remainder of the spellwork disintegrated, sending her plummeting. She could see the trees getting closer and closer as she tried desperately to cast a flying spell, or a levitation spell. Panic yammered at her mind, making it harder and harder to concentrate. Someone had seen her coming and sniped her out of the air. Someone...

  Parachute, she thought. Form a parachute...

  It was hard, incredibly hard, to conjure something from nothing. Even Void couldn’t conjure anything particularly big from raw power, although he’d been practicing magic for over a century. Emily felt her power leaking as she tried desperately to bind it in place, realizing - too late - her mistake. The parachute jerked once, slowing her fall, then disintegrated into a shower of sparks. Emily plummeted again, the ground coming up at terrifying speed...

  She focused her mind, casting a freeze spell on herself. She’d done it to others as part of a trust-building exercise, but never herself. Her limbs locked solid as the ground came up and hit her. She crashed through the trees and landed in a crater. It didn’t hurt - the spell had kept her from being hurt or killed - but... it was hard, so hard, to undo the spell. She’d cast it on herself. In a sense, she was actually fighting herself.

  Fuck, she thought, numbly. The magic spiraled around her. Someone had shot her out of the air... she gritted her teeth, trying to drain her own magic into herself. She had to free herself and move, fast. Whoever had blown her out of the sky would come looking for her, sooner or later. They’d probably seen enough of her descent to suspect she’d managed to survive the fall. A firstie could have knocked me out of the air.

  Her head spun. Her body unlocked. She slumped in a heap. It was hard to force herself to move. She guessed she’d been more stunned than she’d thought. Her arms and legs felt as if she’d been badly hurt, battered to the edge of unconsciousness. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep, even though she knew it would be suicidal. It was all she could do to stand on wobbly legs and stumble away from the crater. It looked as if a small asteroid had hit the ground. And, if anyone came after her, they’d know she’d survived because they couldn’t see a body.

  She looked around as she kept moving, struggling up towards the Redoubt. The trees were casting long shadows over the forest. She thought she could hear things moving in the trees, things that sounded utterly inhuman. Emily glanced up at the darkening sky and cursed under her breath. Night was dawning. It was just a matter of time until the really dangerous creatures came out to play. She saw something flittering through the trees and jumped, reaching for her magic before she realized it was nothing more than a bird. It looked at her with surprisingly intelligent eyes, then flew away. Emily felt a chill running down her spine. If the bird was someone’s familiar...

  They don’t allow familiars at Laughter, she reminded herself. She wondered why as she started to pick her way up a dry brook. There must be some reason for the ban.

  She sensed magic behind her and ducked, sharply, as a stunning spell flashed over her head and crashed harmlessly against a tree. Emily turned, gathering what remained of her magic and readying a spell; she cursed as she saw Kasha lining up her hand for another spell. The girl’s eyes were dead and cold. She was too deeply enchanted to realize what she was doing, let alone stop it... Emily cast a spell of her own, freezing the girl in place. Kasha would thank her later, probably. She didn’t have time to get fancy.

  Move, you fool, she told herself. The others are coming.

  Magic rippled through the air. It looked like a hunting net, a charm that was surprisingly simple and yet devilishly hard to evade. The hunters she’d met in Zangaria regarded the spell as cheating - they insisted they had to make the animals break cover by galloping through the forest like madmen - but the witches didn’t seem to have the same restraints. Emily gritted her teeth, knowing she was in no state for a prolonged fight. Last time, she’d known she could stop them without seriously hurting them. Now...

  A chill ran down her spine as the magic grew stronger. She’d never really been scared of magic, once she’d mastered it. She’d never known the gulf between a magician and a mundane. She’d never really understood just how terrible it was to be powerless, even when she’d lost her magic. And yet, now, she understood. The world had turned into a nightmare. She could practically feel the malice in the air as the witches closed in on her, using the hunting spell to zero in on her location. Perhaps Simon had ordered them to kill her. He certainly had good reason to hate her.

  She scrambled up, hoping she could find a way to signal for help. The entire school couldn’t be closed down, could it? Emily didn’t want to believe it. The staff were hardly inexperienced. And yet... she jumped back as Hannalore appeared, chanting a spell that would turn her target into a frog. Emily was too tired to risk trying to deflect it. Instead, she cracked a stunner into Hannalore’s chest. The girl folded and hit the ground.

  “Pendle,” someone called. “Pendle!”

  Dionne, Emily thought. It sounded like Dionne. What is she doing...?

  She flinched as a hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up, into Damia’s cold face. For a moment, she felt a flicker of hope. Damia had come to find her missing students... and then she knew the truth. Damia was Simon’s puppet. Even with him dead, she was carrying out his orders. No wonder she’d been so stridently insistent there was nothing wrong. She’d have been programmed
to refuse to accept that anyone, including herself, might be controlled by the enemy. Emily tried to pull herself free...

  Magic flared around her. Emily screamed in pain as Damia’s spell tore through her remaining defenses. It felt as if every last cell in her body were on fire. She collapsed in a heap, her eyes covered with glowing spots... she blinked them away as strong hands rolled her over. Emily felt her heart sink as Dionne stared down at her, the light of fanaticism in her eyes. Whatever Simon had done to her, it had stuck. Emily shivered.

  “Get up,” Dionne ordered.

  Emily didn’t move. She wasn’t convinced she could move, even if she wanted to. Her entire body just hurt. Her magic reserves were gone. Dionne glared at her, then looked at Damia. The tutor seemed completely out of it. Emily felt a stab of pity. Damia was going to hate herself when she recovered, if she ever did. Simon might have charmed her so deeply she could never recover.

  “Get her up,” Dionne ordered.

  Damia waved a listless hand at Emily. Emily didn’t have the strength to resist as she felt the compulsion sink into her bones. Her limbs moved of their own accord. Dionne smiled - leered, more like - as Emily staggered to her feet, unable to fight the power controlling her body. Damia walked ahead of her, moving like a zombie; Emily tried to gather the remains of her power as she was forced to follow. Dionne brought up the rear, muttering a handful of spells to direct messages to her friends. Emily hoped they’d find the two girls she’d taken out before night fell completely. The witches had some protection from the local wildlife, but no one really felt like putting that to the test.

  The spell pulsed against her body. Emily tried to study it, tried to focus her mind to throw it off. She knew she could have deflected it if she’d been at full strength, but... she found it hard to so much as get a grip on part of the spell. Damia was a powerful and skilled witch... Emily stared at her back, trying to determine if there was a way to free her. Simon couldn’t have woven too many commands into her mind, could he?

  She might as well be sleepwalking, Emily thought. She’d heard horror stories about compulsion spells that convinced the victim they were dreaming. Shadye had used something similar on her. By the time she wakes up, it will be too late.

  The other girls gathered around them as they reached the Redoubt and headed into the old castle. Emily could sense odd magics lurking at the edge of her awareness, eyes peering at her from the darkness. It was suddenly easy to believe there was a great secret within the ruined castle, just waiting to be discovered. Emily wondered, grimly, just how much time she would have spent searching the castle, if she’d studied at Laughter. The lure of old magic had always drawn her. She’d certainly spent enough time exploring the mountains near Whitehall.

  “Stop,” Dionne ordered, as they stepped into a large room. It might have been a hall, once upon a time. Now, it was open to the sky. “Now.”

  Emily stopped, cursing under her breath. She’d hoped the spell would only allow Damia to control her, but evidently... she was wrong. She hoped and prayed it didn’t occur to Dionne to start asking questions. The younger girl wasn’t thinking too clearly, if she was thinking at all... Emily groaned, inwardly, as Dionne pulled Emily’s hands behind her back and wrapped a strong cord around them. Dionne didn’t seem to expect the compulsion spell to last... why? Emily felt a flicker of hope. If Dionne had reason to expect the spell to fail... perhaps she was right.

  “Sit down,” Dionne ordered. “You will bear witness, Lady Emily, to the rise of Pendle.”

  Emily sat, fearing she had a ringside seat to disaster. Dionne’s rite wasn’t going to work, not unless she’d found a way to smooth it out. Emily doubted it. Damia wasn’t going along with them willingly, Jens was a long way away, and Simon was dead. Was someone else in control? Nanette? Or... or what? Emily’s imagination mocked her. It was all too easy to imagine the girls summoning something they couldn’t control.

  “You may speak,” Dionne said, grandly.

  “This is madness,” Emily managed. It hurt to talk. “You cannot raise the dead.”

  “Pendle is not dead,” Dionne said. “She sleeps, awaiting the call.”

  “And how do you know,” Emily asked, “if she’ll be glad to be awakened?”

  “She awaits us,” Dionne said. “We will call her and she will come.”

  Emily tried, one final time, to get through to her. “This isn’t going to work,” she said, urgently. A thought struck her and she leaned forward, as provocatively as she could. “You are being stupid. You are being...”

  Dionne slapped her, hard. Emily fell back, wincing at the pain. And yet, it helped her to focus. The compulsion spell faltered, then faded into the ether as she managed to regain control of her body. Her hands were still tied, but she could move again. She could...

  “We begin,” Dionne said. She turned to Damia. “Take your place.”

  “This is madness,” Emily said, as Damia walked into the circle. “This is...”

  “Shut up,” Dionne snapped. She drew a knife from her belt. Emily realized, in numb horror, just what was about to happen. “We begin!”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  T HIS IS MADNESS, EMILY THOUGHT.

  She watched Dionne pacing back to the circle, the other girls taking their positions as laid out in the rite she’d seen. Dionne moved from witch to witch, drawing blood from each of them and mixing it into a paste which she presented to a revived Hannalore. Hannalore took the mixture and used it to paint runes on Dionne’s face, preparing her for the rite. Emily couldn’t see the logic. The power wasn’t being drawn into Dionne, as far as she could tell; it didn’t seem to have anywhere to go.

  Moonlight fell over the scene as Dionne stood in front of Damia. The older woman lay still, utterly unmoving. Emily swore under her breath as she realized what was about to happen, then carefully started to test her bonds. Dionne seemed too wrapped up in the rite - the girls were starting to chant - to notice, but... it was impossible to be sure. They’d done a good job of tying her hands, she noted sourly, yet they hadn’t thought to search her for the virgin blade. Emily supposed it made sense. Most magicians shunned mundane weapons, choosing to rely on their magic instead. Emily inched the knife out of her sleeve and into the ground, hoping she didn’t cut herself in the process.

  Magic started to billow around the circle as the chanting grew louder. The sound blurred together into a single word. “Pendle, Pendle, Pendle.” Emily tried to trace the magic as it passed through the runes and ran around the circle, but it really didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Was Dionne planning to sacrifice Damia? What did she think she was doing? Was she thinking at all? Simon had warped her mind to the point she had no awareness of right and wrong, no sense she was doing something that was not only wrong, but dangerous. It felt as if she were about to perform the necromantic rite, without any preparations to catch and store the power within her wards. Emily couldn’t understand it. Surely, Dionne could realize - even without being quite aware of it - that she was doing something that was likely to explode in her face.

  Emily gritted her teeth, pressing the rope against the knife. If they’d thought to charm the rope... she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the rope start to fray. It was hard to push the rope against the blade without cutting herself - she really didn’t want to add her blood to the mix - but she forced herself to keep sawing at the bonds. She had to get her hands free. The chanting - and the sense of power - was growing stronger. Was Dionne trying to summon a demon? It didn’t seem likely. Demon summoning rites were immensely complicated. Dionne seemed to be doing something a great deal simpler.

  She cursed her own mistake as her hands came free. She could have sent a message to Lady Barb or someone - anyone - else, even if it meant losing the chance to grab the person on the other side of the chat parchments. She could have called Void or Jade or Melissa or one of her other allies, people who would have come to help her deal with the enchanted witches before they started the rite. Or she
could have gone back to Laughter and tried to get help there. Dionne and the witches couldn’t have taken out all the teachers, could they? Emily glanced towards the school, silhouetted against the moonlight. It didn’t seem possible.

  No time to worry about that now, she told herself. Think about it later, when you have time.

  Dionne was still chanting. Emily saw the younger girl’s eyes glowing - white, not red - as she raised her voice. The sound echoed through the air and over the mountains... it was impossible to believe it couldn’t be heard in the school. Or in Pendle... the townspeople had to be locking and barring their doors, praying to all the gods that they hadn’t made a dreadful mistake by staying in the town. Emily shivered as she forced herself to lean forward, trying to decide what to do. Her magic was recovering slowly, too slowly. She kicked herself, again, for not summoning help.

  The shadows seemed to grow darker, somehow, as the magic built ever-stronger. Emily thought she saw glints of light in the ruined stonework, hints of magic that had been and gone years ago... her eyes narrowed as she studied the remainder of the hall. It didn’t look as though it had fallen into disrepair, or if it had been broken by an outside attack. It looked as if something had torn its way out of the castle. Her blood ran cold. Another dragon? Or something else, something nastier? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The mountains were home to all sorts of monsters.

  If something tore its way out of the castle...

  Emily put the thought aside as the chanting reached a crescendo. The witches were giving everything they had, allowing Dionne to channel their power into... into what? Emily tried to parse out the spellwork, but there was nothing there! The power was gathering, concentrating itself in the circle, yet... the power had nowhere to go. If Dionne thought she could absorb the power into herself, she was in for a nasty shock. The power surge would be enough to tip her into madness, even if she didn’t sacrifice Damia.