Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12)

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Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12) Page 31

by Christopher Nuttall


  She glanced at Frieda. Did she believe? She’d never talked about religion with any of her friends, save for Caleb and Alassa. Did she think the destroyed temples and statues were blasphemous? Or did she think the money could have been better spent on something else?

  Frieda staggered to a halt. “Emily, look!”

  Emily lifted her weary eyes and stared in horror. Sorcerers Row was burning. A dozen houses had caught fire, eerie-looking flames spreading from house to house as the remaining wards struggled to contain them. The stench was overpowering, warning her that hundreds of dangerous potions and their ingredients were burning. She covered her nose and forced herself to look. Caleb’s house was completely gone, nothing more than a roaring blaze…as she watched, the roof fell in, the entire house collapsing into a pile of burning debris. She’d never liked the ramshackle house, but she knew Sienna and General Pollack had loved it. It was their home…

  She peered down the street. The barricade had been destroyed, smashed to rubble. A number of bodies were clearly visible, but so badly mutilated that she didn’t have a hope of identifying them. Was one of them Caleb? Her heart skipped a beat as she realized her lover might be dead. Or General Pollack? She didn’t think there were any women among the dead, but several of the bodies were so badly battered she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Sienna and her daughters might be dead too…

  They struck back, Emily thought. Harman betrayed us. We marched out to attack them, and they struck while we were gone.

  Frieda caught her arm. “What now?”

  Emily stared at her. “I don’t know.” Caleb couldn’t be dead, could he? She didn’t want to even consider the possibility. “I just don’t know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  FRIEDA LED HER INTO A SIDE-STREET. Emily leaned against the wall, as soon as they were out of sight, and forced herself to think. Her body ached, but there was no time to sit and sleep. The shouting grew closer as more and more Fists swarmed the area, searching for them. They couldn’t stay still for long…

  I don’t know where to go, she thought, frantically. If Caleb and his family were dead, she had nowhere to go. She also didn’t have any money on her. Even if she somehow convinced an innkeeper to give them a bed for the night, she’d be running a terrible risk. The innkeeper might betray them to their enemies. She didn’t know anyone else in the city…

  She kicked herself, mentally. She did know someone else in the city. Markus.

  “We have to get to the bank,” she muttered. She drew on the last of her energy, forcing herself to stand on her own two feet. “It’s the only place we might be safe.”

  Unless it’s been attacked too, she thought, as they stumbled down the street. If the Fists managed to break into Sorcerers Row, they might have managed to smash the banks too.

  She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to move. She’d faced necromancers and demons and powerful sorcerers…she was damned if she was allowing a bunch of religious fanatics to get the better of her. Their power was based on a trick, although it was a terrifyingly effective trick. The magical haze they’d unleashed made it impossible for her to risk sleeping in the open, let alone teleporting out of the city. She told herself, firmly, not to give in. Despair was a worse enemy than anything.

  The streets grew quieter as they made their way towards the banks. A handful of buildings were nothing more than piles of ashes, marking – she hoped – places where the resistance had struck at their enemies. There were no bodies, as far as she could see. Thankfully, there were no guards either. The Fists of Justice had too many other problems to worry about guarding the remains of their patrol bases.

  They got a bloody nose, she thought, vengefully. But will it be enough to stop them?

  “There’s a patrol outside the tunnel entrance,” Frieda whispered. “Stay here.”

  Emily wanted to argue, but everything was catching up with her again. Her vision was starting to go hazy. She could only watch as Frieda slipped out of the alley and headed towards the guards, then slumped against the wall and prayed. It was all she could do to keep herself awake as she sensed flickers of magic, magic that had a hard and nasty edge to it. She hoped Frieda had cast it, rather than one of the guards. If the Fists of Justice had found the tunnel, they’d definitely assign a sorcerer to the guards…

  Frieda reappeared, looking grim. “Got them,” she said. “Come on.”

  She helped Emily to her feet, then half-carried her down towards the house. It crossed Emily’s mind that the banks might have already fallen, that they might be walking into a trap, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. If Markus was alive and well, he’d help them; if he was dead or imprisoned, they would soon be dead too. Janus might have wanted to convince her to join him, but she suspected that ship had sailed. She’d blasphemed against his god…

  “Hurry,” Frieda muttered. They reached the house and opened the door. It looked as though someone had tried to break down the wards, but lacked the skill to make it work. Emily frowned, trying to understand why something was wrong. “Emily…”

  Emily’s legs collapsed under her, the moment they were inside the house. The floor suddenly felt very comfortable. She closed her eyes, just for a second…

  …And opened them again, in shock.

  She jerked upright, panic flashing through her mind. She lay on a bed, completely naked. A black woman – only a year or two older than herself – held a wand over Emily’s body, casting some kind of spell. Emily tried to lift a hand – she wasn’t sure if she wanted to defend herself or cast a spell – but her head swam and she fell back to the bed. She could barely move.

  “Lie still,” the woman said. “You’re very badly drained.”

  “I know,” Emily managed. Her throat felt dry, very dry. She could barely talk. Melissa had once cast a tongue-twisting hex on her, back before they’d come to a truce, but that hadn’t been as bad as this. “What…what happened? Who are you?”

  “My name is Pandora,” the woman said. She withdrew the wand, then produced a small gourd and held it to Emily’s lips. “How much do you remember?”

  Emily forced herself to concentrate as she sipped the warm liquid. It tasted of chicken, mingled with herbs and spices. She was in a bad way, then. She’d been told, time and time again, that potions were meant to taste dreadful, if only to prevent addiction. A Healer wouldn’t want her to drink something that tasted nice unless she had to drink it. She felt the liquid sliding down her throat, warming her chest…magic pulsed through her, healing the damage. It was a surprisingly comfortable sensation.

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. Her memories got hazy after escaping the temple. She remembered that Sorcerers Row had been burning – she felt a stab of pain at the thought of losing Caleb – but little else. “What happened?”

  “You collapsed inside the safe house,” Pandora said. “Your companion managed to get you down the tunnel and call for help. We carried you into the bank and settled you down. And then you slept.”

  Emily nodded, curtly. “How bad is it?”

  “Better than you had any right to expect,” Pandora told her. “You pushed your body to the breaking point, but luckily we got some potions into you before your internal organs started to collapse. I’ve fixed most of the damage, Lady Emily; the remainder will heal by the end of the day. Your magic was drained quite badly, but I think it will recover within the next day or so. I advise you to avoid using magic for the next few hours, at the very least. I’d recommend longer, but I don’t think that will be possible.”

  Emily carefully tested her defenses. They were gone. The network of wards and protections she’d built up over the last few weeks were gone. She shivered, feeling vulnerable. She’d known her defenses could be broken, if someone had the power and experience to crack their way through her protections, but this was different. A prank spell designed to turn her into a frog would work, if someone cast it on her. She might as well be naked.

  She scowled as
she looked down. She was naked.

  “I’ll have food served in a few minutes,” Pandora informed her. Emily’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. “I expect you to eat every last morsel. I’ll force it down your throat personally if you refuse to eat.”

  “I’ll eat,” Emily said, hastily. She knew Pandora wasn’t joking. “Can I have something to wear?”

  “If you can stand up,” Pandora said. “Your clothes were beyond repair, I’m afraid, but there is a nightgown in the cabinet.”

  Emily sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room was windowless, but otherwise it could have passed for her bedroom at Whitehall. A bedside cabinet, a desk, a pair of chairs…she wondered, as she forced herself to stand on wobbly legs, why Markus had bothered to install a bedroom in the bank. It didn’t seem large enough for a married couple, yet it was too large for a bank clerk…she shook her head, dismissing the question. She’d worry about it later, if there was a later. The nightgown, thankfully, was long enough to cover everything. She pulled it over her head, wincing as it scratched her skin. The door opened a moment later, revealing Frieda. She was carrying a large tray of food.

  “Eat,” Pandora said. “Or do I have to compel you?”

  “No,” Emily said, hastily.

  Frieda put the food down on the table, then gave Emily a hug. “I thought…I thought…”

  “It’s all right.” Emily held the younger girl for a long moment, then looked down at where her watch should be. “How long was I out?”

  “Twelve hours.” Pandora lifted her wand, meaningfully. “Eat.”

  Emily sat back on the bed, taking a deep breath. It smelled nice, although there was an edge to it that made her stomach churn. Someone had probably laced the dinner with potions to help speed her recovery. She braced herself, then took a bite. Beef stew, mixed with mashed potatoes and chopped vegetables. She wondered, as she took another bite, just why Markus had installed a kitchen in his bank too. But then, he had expected trouble.

  “I have good news,” Frieda said, as Emily finished her meal. One of the potions must have been an appetite enhancer. She hadn’t been able to keep herself from eating, once she’d had a few bites. “Caleb is alive and on his way.”

  Emily sagged in relief. “What…what happened?”

  “The message didn’t have any useful details,” Frieda said. “Markus said he would summon Caleb as soon as you were awake.”

  Emily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d been too tired – and then too drugged-up – to dwell on the fact Caleb was missing, yet…she looked at her fingers, feeling relieved. Caleb was alive! And his family…she hoped his family had survived. They’d already lost one son in the last few weeks.

  “Good,” she said. She looked at Pandora. “Can you show him in when he arrives?”

  “If you wish.” Pandora’s voice tightened. “But make sure he does all the work.”

  Emily felt her cheeks heat as Frieda giggled. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she protested. “I…”

  “Markus also wants to speak to you,” Frieda said. “Should I go fetch him now?”

  “Maybe,” Emily said. Her stomach felt satisfied, for the moment. She knew that wouldn’t last. She’d been so drained that she’d need to eat again soon, as the potions worked their magic on her body. “Do I look reasonably decent?”

  “You look like a woman who donned a burlap sack instead of a dress,” Frieda said, mischievously. “Why, I recall a story about a happy couple who accidentally swapped clothes when they had to get dressed in a hurry…”

  “I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She’d never liked wearing revealing clothes, even for Caleb. The nightgown she’d worn to Alassa’s hen party had technically covered everything, but it had been so revealing that she’d blushed when she’d worn it. “As long as I’m not showing off anything important.”

  “It was funny,” Frieda said.

  “The aftermath probably wasn’t,” Pandora said. She tapped Emily’s shoulder, passing her a potions bottle. “When you feel hungry again, eat. Take two spoonfuls of this potion every hour until the bottle runs dry. You” – she looked at Frieda – “make sure she eats, when she’s hungry.”

  “Understood,” Frieda said.

  Pandora nodded, giving Emily a sharp look. “You pushed yourself to the limit,” she warned, firmly. “I won’t hesitate to put you to sleep if I think you’re risking your health again.”

  Emily nodded, keeping her face expressionless. Every Healer – everyone she’d met with some medical training – seemed to have the same bedside manner. The Healers at Whitehall were strict, often threatening to tie students down if they didn’t stay in bed until they were fully healed. Lady Barb had even told her class, a couple of years ago, that hardly anyone could be trusted to take care of themselves. Her patients always thought they knew better than their healers.

  Pandora slipped out of the room, leaving Emily and Frieda alone. Emily looked at Frieda, seeing the strain on the younger girl’s face. Frieda had done well, very well; she needed to rest herself, not stay up to watch Emily. And yet…Emily felt a sudden rush of affection that surprised her more than she cared to admit. Frieda had risked everything to save her.

  She looked up as Markus entered the room. “Emily.” He sounded tired. “I’m glad you recovered.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “Are we safe here?”

  “For the moment.” Markus gestured towards the wall. “The mob is still out there, but so far they haven’t done more than tickle the wards. I imagine that will change soon.”

  “Probably.” Emily frowned as his words sank in. The Fists of Justice had smashed Sorcerers Row, but not the banks? It was odd. Taking out the resistance made sense, she supposed, but the banks were their scapegoats for the whole crisis. They’d have to smash them sooner or later. “They have an incredibly powerful entity on their side.”

  Markus eyed her. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.” Emily sighed. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell him. Markus was innovative, as were his friends. They might start trying to build Mimics of their own, if they knew it was possible. But she had to tell them something. They had to understand that the ‘god’ was nothing more than a powerful spell. “Can I tell everyone at once? That’ll save some time.”

  “If you must,” Markus said.

  Emily groaned. “Janus was an accountant,” she said. “Harman was – is – an accountant too.”

  Frieda swore. “You think he betrayed us?”

  “Someone had to,” Emily said. She was sure she was right. “Janus was very well informed, right from the start. Harman could have betrayed us…”

  And he wasn’t at the square when all hell broke loose, she added, mentally. Did someone warn him to stay away?

  “Harman is an ass,” Markus said. “But that doesn’t make him a traitor.”

  Emily frowned. They had no proof. But there were truth spells and truth potions and plenty of other ways to get information out of an unwilling donor. She doubted Sienna would hesitate to use the spells, if she was still alive. Her family had nearly been killed. And yet…

  It made sense, she told herself again. Harman had been a guildmaster. He was, as he’d said himself, the last surviving guildmaster. Perhaps Janus had hoped Harman would join any resistance to the new theocracy, just so he could betray it from the inside. Or maybe he’d even been intended to lead the resistance, covertly keeping it powerless until the time came to drop the hammer. General Pollack certainly hadn’t been intended to survive.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said. “And if he is the traitor, we can use him.”

  “I have no doubt of it.” Markus cocked his head. “Caleb just passed through the wards. Jo is bringing him up now. Should I give the two of you some privacy?”

  “No,” Frieda said, quickly. “She’s in no shape for anything.”

  Markus gave her a sharp look. “I’m sure she’ll
be fine.” He winked at Emily as she flushed. “Although I wouldn’t take Pandora’s advice lightly. If she’s told you to be careful, be careful.”

  “I’ll be very careful,” Emily said. She didn’t feel up to doing more than holding hands. Her stomach felt queasy. “Frieda, why don’t you get some rest?”

  “Because someone has to look after you,” Frieda said. “Emily…”

  “Come with me,” Markus said, firmly. He reached out and took Frieda by the arm. Emily saw Frieda flinch and sighed, inwardly. Frieda had problems being touched too. “You can tell me what happened to you while Emily and Caleb have their emotional reunion.”

  Frieda scowled. “I need to be with her…”

  “I’ll be fine,” Emily promised. Caleb wasn’t going to hurt her. She trusted him not to hurt her, trusted him to kiss her…“You go take some rest.”

  “Emily.” Frieda sounded almost as though she were pleading. “Be careful, please.”

  The door opened. Caleb stepped in. Emily’s eyes went wide. Caleb looked…stricken. It crossed her mind, suddenly, that she didn’t know the rest of his family had survived. They could be dead. Caleb could be the last survivor. Or…her imagination provided too many possibilities, each one worse than the last. General Pollack and Sienna might have been captured and brainwashed by now…

  “Emily.” Caleb sounded worried. He hurried over to the bed and gave her a hug. “She didn’t make it out in time.”

  Emily stared at him as he pulled back. “Who didn’t make it out in time?”

  “Marian,” Caleb said. She could hear panic and fear in his voice. “They caught her! They took her!”

  Emily swallowed, hard. The Fists of Justice were sacrificing children – and young adults – to power their god. Marian – a young woman with magic, but only limited training – would be an ideal sacrifice. They’d put her on one of the altars, stab her with their staffs…she shuddered at the thought. Marian had been rude and unpleasant, but she didn’t deserve to die like that. No one did.

  “Then we have to get her back,” she said, standing up. Her legs still felt wobbly. “Where is everyone?”

 

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