Secrets and Spellcraft

by Michael G. Manning

  His friendship with Seth also improved with time. The other boy began to visit him once in a while, and eventually they started studying together. Seth made it clear that he had no intention of moving back in with Will, but beyond that he no longer seemed so wary.

  Having several friends and no longer failing any of his classes, Will began to feel like a real student. The next few years at Wurthaven seemed like they might not be so bad after all. Not if they were like his present.

  Will also picked up the new pieces of armor he had commissioned. Byron Waters’ workmanship was excellent, and he had no complaints. He didn’t know if he would ever need the extra armor, but he felt better knowing he had it if the need arose.

  During his free time in the evenings and on weekends, he finished up the blood-cleanse potions and then went about replacing Arrogan’s old elixirs of turyn with newer potions that contained his own turyn. Once that was out of the way, he devoted himself to improving his spellcraft. With Professor Dulaney’s tutelage, he eventually succeeded in becoming competent enough to cast fifth-order spells and he looked forward to the day he would be able to cast sixth-order spells. Having the use of the sleep spell would greatly improve his non-lethal options the next time he was attacked in the street.

  Dulaney taught him a variety of spells for altering the material properties of various substances ranging from metals to things like ropes and even fabric, but when he was on his own Will dedicated himself to the spells in Practical Magic. By the time the month was done, he had memorized all the spells within it that he was capable of casting, with the exception of darkvision.

  He separated his spellcraft training into three distinct parts. The first was memorization of spells he could already cast and making sure he could do so without resorting to a book or his notes. The second was repetitive casting, to enable him to reflex cast, and for that he chose to focus on the wind-wall spell. The third part was training himself to hold a prepared spell for long periods of time. He practiced that with the wind-wall spell construct also, reasoning that it might help him learn to reflex cast it sooner.

  A month passed in relative peace and quiet, until one day he made the mistake of stepping into Professor Dulaney’s Spell Theory class with a wind-wall spell in hand. He had gotten so used to carrying the prepared spell that he had forgotten to dismiss it, and while the first-year students couldn’t see turyn yet, his teacher certainly could.

  “Mister Cartwright, what is that?” asked Dulaney in front of the class.

  “What sir?”

  “The spell in your hand.”

  “Oh!” He quickly dismissed the construct. “Sorry, sir. I was practicing and forgot I had it with me.”

  Dulaney frowned, but class resumed. During their private tutoring session afterward, though, he mentioned it again. “You’re practicing holding a prepared spell?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it would be handy to be able to do so.”

  “There are only a few reasons to practice such a skill, and most of them are highly questionable,” said Dulaney.

  Will looked at his teacher innocently. “Then you’ve never practiced it?”

  Professor Dulaney’s lips formed a thin line. “I didn’t say that. Everyone does eventually, even if only by happenstance during normal practice. Either way, it’s extremely disconcerting to see someone walking around with who-knows-what ready to go off at any moment. Surely you can see why that would make people nervous.”

  “I didn’t mean to bring it into class, sir. I forgot I had it.”

  His teacher rubbed his chin. “Then you’ve made significant progress. That was a fourth-order spell if I’m not mistaken. If you’re going to keep doing it, though, put it somewhere it won’t make the people around you feel threatened.”

  Will’s brows furrowed. “Pardon? How do I do that?”

  “I meant that you shouldn’t walk around with it in your hand. It’s more polite to store it inside your body,” said Dulaney.

  Will’s mouth formed an ‘o.’ He already knew he didn’t have to keep spells strictly in his hand, and in fact he’d played around with using different areas to attach them, such as his shoulders, but he’d never considered putting it inside himself. “You can do that?”

  “Of course. The spell construct is intangible. Observe.” Dulaney held up one palm and Selene’s eighth-order cleaning spell appeared above his hand in a matter of seconds. Will was impressed by how quickly his teacher assembled the complex spell. Once it was whole, the man turned his hand and pressed it to his chest. The spell construct disappeared from view. “Keeping it here, no one would suspect that I’m ready to clean virtually anything with just a thought,” he said dryly.

  Will caught the sarcasm but didn’t respond.

  The professor leaned forward across the desk and stared at Will with interest. “So, what was the spell you were practicing with? It wasn’t one that I’ve shown you.”

  “It wasn’t anything special,” said Will weakly.

  “It looked like some sort of elemental wind spell.”

  Will knew he was caught, so he decided to come clean. “It was a wind-wall spell.”

  Dulaney nodded knowingly. “I thought so. Hopefully you understand how destructive that spell is.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve tried it in places where there’s a lot of room and nothing to damage.”

  “I’d heard a rumor that the groundskeepers were looking to find whoever was destroying parts of the lawn.” Dulaney chuckled. “The bigger problem is this. That spell is a combat spell. Where did you learn it?”

  Will abandoned honesty. “I found it in the library, sir.”

  “That seems unlikely. Those spells are kept in a restricted section. Only teachers and researchers with special permission are permitted to examine them.”

  He racked his brain for an explanation. “I found it on a folded note stuffed inside one of the older books. I didn’t realize it was restricted.”

  Dulaney’s eyes clearly said he didn’t believe his young student, but he didn’t challenge the lie. Instead, he gave advice. “I hope you realize that if you’re ever caught breaking into the restricted section that the consequences are severe.”

  “I’ve never been there, sir. Honestly. But I will keep your advice in mind. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Make sure no one sees you practicing that spell. I won’t take the blame if you’re caught.”

  Will promised he would be careful. He left feeling that he had narrowly dodged serious trouble and vowed to find a better place to practice the spell.

  A few days later, he was surprised when Dianne, the resident assistant, stopped him on his way to his room. “You have a letter, William.”

  Her attitude toward him was no longer quite so frosty, but there had been no sign she would ever show him the same warmth she previously shown. Will accepted the folded envelope and took it upstairs to read.

  Your father’s wife suspects the truth and may have shared her suspicion with the duchess. Be careful.

  There was no signature or other indication as to who had left the message, but Will recognized Selene’s flowing script. He pondered the meaning of it. His father, the Baron Mark Nerrow, was married to the sister of Duke Arenata. The duke was also the Royal Marshal, in charge of Terabinia’s military and probably the single most powerful nobleman in the country.

  King Lognion had already warned Will that if the baroness learned of his bastard heritage, she might do almost anything to eliminate a possible challenger to her heirs.

  But how could she have learned the truth? Will had had no contact with his father since their single meeting in Branscombe. Had she somehow learned of the care package his father had sent when he started studying at Wurthaven? It seemed unlikely. Mark Nerrow had been scrupulously careful for the entirety of Will’s life, otherwise his wife would have discovered the truth long ago.

  Could it have been Count Spry’s doing? That made littl
e sense, as the Count knew even less about Will beyond recent events. Speculation was getting him nowhere. If she knows then I’ll have even more people out for my blood.

  Thinking about it made him anxious. He was already doing everything he could to keep himself in one piece, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind. It was beginning to get crowded back there, with his questions about Count Spry, and his further concern about why Selene had been visiting the man.

  Nothing was ever simple.

  The Winter Ball was only two weeks away, and Will realized he still hadn’t picked up his new clothes from the tailor. It was Friday and he’d just finished his classes for the day, so he decided to head into the city.

  With the blood-price no longer hanging over his head the chancellor had rescinded the ban on him leaving the college grounds, but he still didn’t want to announce his departure to whoever might be watching the gates, so he left by climbing the wall. From there he made his way through the streets to Branstowe’s tailoring shop.

  As always, he kept an eye on his surroundings. Paranoia was becoming a habit for him and he had no intention of changing his ways any time soon. He was wearing his brigandine beneath his tunic, as he had done for several months now, and he also had Remi’s special knives strapped to his wrists. Combined with the fact that he could summon a variety of weapons at a moment’s notice he couldn’t see any way he could be better prepared, short of wearing all of his armor in public. If his life got any more dangerous, he’d have to resort to hiring guards to escort him everywhere.

  Bryan Branstowe seemed relieved to see him. “I expected you a few weeks ago. I was starting to wonder if you wouldn’t come.”

  The tailor’s work was exceptional, though Will found himself feeling embarrassed at just the thought of wearing such finery. At Bryan’s insistence, he tried everything on. The fit was perfect, but the close-fitting hose made Will’s legs feel naked. It’s just one day. I can do this, he told himself.

  Bryan admired his handiwork. “If you had a gold chain and some rings, I’d think you were a duke,” he announced. “You must have a lot of admirers already, though. Several people stopped in to ask about you.”

  Will frowned. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Both were women, noble ladies of course. They came on different days and neither seemed to want me to know their identities.”

  “Considering your clientele, shouldn’t you have recognized them?”

  “Most of my customers are men, or the servants of such men.”

  “Can you describe them to me?”

  “One was older, with dark blond hair. The other was a young woman, about your age,” said the tailor. “Both were well dressed but they had removed anything that might identify their houses.”

  “Did the younger one have dark hair?”

  “Yes. She was striking. Long, dark hair and blue eyes. Do you know her?”

  Will nodded.

  Bryan’s eyes twinkled. “Is she special to you? She asked for you by name.”

  “Maybe. What did she want to know?”

  “She was curious about what sort of attire you were purchasing, the colors and fabrics. I suspect she might have planned to place an order on your behalf, but she seemed satisfied with your choices.”

  “And the other woman?”

  “She wasn’t as curious. She merely wanted to know how long it would be before your clothes would be ready.” Bryan noticed a look of irritation on Will’s face. “Privacy isn’t usually a concern in tailoring. Should I have said nothing?”

  “I’ve made quite a few enemies,” admitted Will. “There’s a good chance anyone asking about my affairs doesn’t have my best interests at heart.”

  The tailor nodded. “I apologize then. People don’t normally ask about these things, so I was caught off-guard, plus clothing usually isn’t a sensitive matter.”

  Will was more curious as to how so many people knew he’d visited the tailor in the first place. Since he’d returned several weeks later than expected, he wasn’t too worried about being ambushed, though. He was too far off schedule. He removed the new clothes, changed back into his usual attire, and then paid the tailor his due. As he was about to leave, he stored his new purchases in the limnthal.

  Stepping into the street, he immediately noticed something odd. The lane was entirely empty but for a few exceptions. Directly across from the tailor’s shop stood three men with long, grey cloaks. Will started to glance to his sides when his peripheral vision picked up movement, but it was too late.

  Something hit him square in the chest, hard, knocking him back and driving the wind from his lungs. Two crossbow bolts stood out, tangled in the fabric of his tunic. A third had gone deeper, piercing his brigandine and penetrating his abdomen by perhaps an inch or two. He stumbled and fell, feeling a sharp pain as the bodkin point tore at his belly.

  As he dropped, he noticed that the three men across the way had thrown back their cloaks to reveal now-empty crossbows. From the sides, two men were closing on him with flanged maces in hand. Apparently, they had been waiting a short distance away from either side of the door, and it was obvious that their task was to make sure he couldn’t get back up if the crossbows failed to do the job. “He’s wearing body armor of some kind,” one of them called to his accomplices.

  He saw all this as he fell, and by the time he struck the ground he knew he was in far over his head. The two side men were already standing over him, raising their maces to strike. The armor he wore wouldn’t do much against impact weapons, if they even bothered to aim for his body. His head was too tempting a target.

  There was only one thing he could do. He channeled all the turyn in his body into the spell he was holding and released it. A blast of wind erupted around him, throwing his mace-wielding enemies off their feet and causing them to tumble. Without preparing a greater amount of turyn, the wind-wall spell wasn’t powerful enough to cause them greater harm.

  Still unable to draw breath, he could see the men across the road were already winching back their crossbows to reload. Will scrabbled backward, grabbing the door handle and hurrying into the shop before slamming the door shut. Bryan looked at him in alarm, his eyes spotting the quarrels sticking out of Will’s clothing.

  Almost completely bereft of turyn, Will was only able to move because of his training and extreme stubbornness. “They’re coming,” he croaked to warn the tailor. Then he reached down and pulled out the bolt that had partially penetrated. There wasn’t much blood to be seen.

  To his credit, Bryan recovered from his shock quickly and rushed forward to lock the door. “There’s a door in back.”

  Will nodded weakly and staggered in that direction. As he went, he summoned an elixir of turyn from the limnthal and drank it in one gulp, feeling his strength return in a rush. Then he expanded his outer shell and began absorbing more turyn from the environment.

  His mind raced through the possibilities. Given some time, he’d have put on his armor, but the shop door didn’t look that substantial. He decided his best option was to wait on the men to break through the door since there might be others covering the rear exit. Will summoned the crossbow from his limnthal and prepared a simple spell. He positioned himself at the back of the main room, some fifteen feet away from the door and slightly to the left, where he wouldn’t be in direct line of sight for the enemy crossbowmen when the door opened.

  Several heavy mace blows shattered the wood holding the door’s bolt, and it flew open. As the first assassin stepped inside, Will fired, hitting the man square in the chest, close to the heart. The man dropped the mace and clutched at the shaft as he staggered to one side and his companion entered. Will’s force-lance struck that one, blowing a hole through his midsection and sending the man falling backward into the street.

  Will stored his crossbow again. He couldn’t afford the time to reload it. Moving forward, he summoned his falchion and put the still-living assassin out of his misery. He prepared a second force-lance s
pell. He was too nervous to look out the door to use it, though, but he had an idea. Reaching down, he grabbed the man he had just killed by the chest and heaved him to his feet with strength born of fear and adrenaline, then shoved the man through the open door ahead of him.

  Quarrels thudded into the body. Will released his body shield and unleashed his force-lance on one of the crossbowmen. The man died instantly, and his companions started to run, for they knew they couldn’t reload in time. Will charged at them but stopped at a distance of ten feet and caught both with his source-link. He pumped enough turyn into them to overwhelm them with nausea, then slew them each in turn with his falchion.

  Everything had happened in less than the span of a couple of minutes. Will looked down the street and spotted the men who were diverting traffic. There were two at each intersection, and though they saw him, none of them made a move to approach. They’re still confident the kill team will finish me, he realized. But why? A scream from the tailor’s shop answered his question. The back door!

  Will ran back inside, where he was greeted by a scene from a horror story. Bryan was thrashing on the floor, covered by something. It was all black smoke and teeth. Will recognized it as a demon from his previous experience. Standing in the doorway to the back portion of the shop was a black-robed man.

  He didn’t stop to think. He cast the demon-armor spell and his body was engulfed in heatless flames. Something flew from the robed man’s hands, a streak of turyn, and Will felt the man’s spell slam into his chest. His half-empty outer shell absorbed some of the power before it struck his chest, but the spell still had enough power to throw him against the wall when it landed.

  The demon was rising from what was left of Bryan’s torn remains. Will chose to focus on the caster first, though. He didn’t attempt to get back to his feet, but instead formed another force-lance. It took a few seconds, but he released it before the dark-robed priest could cast again, and his spell shattered the man’s ribs, flinging him into the back room. Then the demon landed on top of him.