Full Circle Read online

  ALSO BY CHRISTOPHER NUTTALL

  The Mind’s Eye

  Bookworm series

  Bookworm

  Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling

  Bookworm III: The Best Laid Plans

  Dizzy Spells series

  A Life Less Ordinary

  Royal Sorceress series

  The Royal Sorceress

  The Great Game

  Necropolis

  INVERSE SHADOWS UNIVERSE

  SUFFICIENTLY ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY

  Full Circle

  In his cave, the Witch-King mused on the changing nature of time. At one level his enemy was randomness, the fickle chances that might disrupt his plans as they had in the past. But he could no longer rely on waiting for such perturbations to be smoothed out by the passage of time. His influence, even his very existence, had always remained unsuspected, but now Elaine and a handful of others not only knew about him but were intent on his destruction and suspected where his body was being maintained. They were unlikely to succeed, but he couldn’t entirely dismiss them, especially as Elaine was the only other magician who understood the deeper layers of magic and she was bonded to Johan who had yet to realise how powerful his own magic really was. Unable to leave his hiding place yet, he would have to rely on the new Emperor to stop her – a man permanently on the brink between sanity and madness, who was easily steered to unwittingly prepare the way for the Witch-King’s return.

  Meanwhile Elaine, Dread, Daria and Johan were slowly making their way towards Ida in the hope that Queen Sacharissa would allow them access to the catacombs where Elaine was sure the lich was hiding.

  Bookworm IV

  Full Circle

  Christopher Nuttall

  Elsewhen Press

  Bookworm IV: Full Circle

  First published in Great Britain by Elsewhen Press, 2015

  An imprint of Alnpete Limited

  Copyright © Christopher Nuttall, 2015. All rights reserved

  The right of Christopher Nuttall to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, telepathic, magical, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Elsewhen Press, PO Box 757, Dartford, Kent DA2 7TQ

  www.elsewhen.co.uk

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-908168-84-9 Print edition

  ISBN 978-1-908168-94-8 eBook edition

  Condition of Sale

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  Elsewhen Press & Planet-Clock Design are trademarks of Alnpete Limited

  Converted to eBook format by Elsewhen Press

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, libraries, catacombs and events are either a product of the author’s fertile imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, mortuaries, repositories, places or people (living, dead, undead or lich) is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  To My Beta Readers, With Many Thanks.

  You Know Who You Are.

  Prologue

  The Witch-King had thought that time was meaningless.

  He was a lich, after all, a dead body held permanently in suspension by magic. He had waited for a thousand years for his plans to come to fruition and he could have waited another thousand, if necessary. What did the passage of time mean to him when there were minds to bend and living people to manipulate like pieces on a game board? Indeed, part of him would even miss the sensation of covertly steering events from his lofty vantage point, ensuring that matters went the way that best pleased him.

  But now … time was moving again.

  Deferens – the Emperor, his tool – had taken power and was readying himself to deliver the magic that would end the Witch-King’s long rest and bring him back into the world of men. Other pieces, carefully groomed for their roles, were already playing their parts, spreading chaos across the world. There would be no organised resistance as the Empire slipped into civil war, nothing to stop the Witch-King returning to the Golden City to take power and finish the work he had begun, thousands of years ago. The hour of victory was at hand …

  And yet, randomness was the enemy.

  He’d always known that randomness might disrupt his plans. His ability to influence even the greatest magicians was limited, while his ability to steer the paths of mundanes was non-existent. Sheer random chance had impeded his plans before … but then, he’d always been able to pull back, secure in the knowledge that his existence, let alone his influence, remained unsuspected. Now, a handful of people did know of him; knew of him, feared him and intended to destroy him. Their prospects of success were laughable, at best, and yet the thought nagged at his mind. He’d seen too many carefully-constructed plans fall apart as randomness took hold, to dismiss them entirely …

  … And now, he couldn’t pull back and wait for centuries before trying again.

  They could destroy me, he thought.

  It wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate. He’d gone further than anyone else in his studies of magic, exploring vast vistas that most magicians refused to consider even existed – and he’d succeeded. The simple fact that he’d survived over a thousand years without going mad was proof of his success. But now there was another magician, who understood the deeper layers of magic, bonded to a young man who had no idea of the true nature of his powers. The tools to destroy the Witch-King were at hand, if they knew how to use them, and they’d been spared the contamination that would have opened their minds to his influence.

  He was vulnerable. He could be destroyed.

  Part of him regretted what had to be done. He had never talked to a true equal since he’d hidden himself away, fearing what would happen if a newcomer learnt his true nature. It would be nice, perhaps, to bandy words with them before killing them, t
o talk as equals across a table …

  … But not at the cost of his own survival. And he’d lived too long to place his life at risk now.

  He reached out with his mind, feeling the threads of magic that linked him to hundreds of magicians. Deferens, his mind permanently on the brink between sanity and madness, was his puppet, even though he would never know it. The ambition that burnt through him was easy to steer to a new target, feeding an obsession that had no logical cause. His forces would swoop forward and claim the Principality Ida, then hold it while the Witch-King rose from the shadows and took power. Nothing would be allowed to get in the way.

  And yet, matters were so close …

  Standing at the cusp of godhood – or nemesis – the Witch-King waited.

  He could do nothing else.

  Chapter One

  The dragon didn’t like her.

  Charity, former Head of House Conidian, quivered as the dragon’s massive eyes turned to follow her. It was an immense beast, easily the size of a small house, with giant bat-like wings and eyes that glowed like embers of coal. Its teeth were sharp, covered in stains that had to be blood; its claws flexed, tearing great holes in the ground. It was hard, so hard, to stand close to the creature and not turn and flee. She was convinced that the only thing saving her from becoming a tasty snack was the iron will of her master, Emperor Vlad.

  “Get up,” the Emperor ordered, curtly.

  Charity swallowed as the oath she’d sworn to him forced her forward. It grew hotter as she approached the dragon, the warmth a reminder of the fire in its belly, but the scales on its back were surprisingly cool. Somehow, she managed to scramble up onto the dragon’s back and sit there, clinging to the scales for dear life. The Emperor snickered, then turned to his men and glowered at them.

  “If a mere woman can do it,” he growled, “so can you.”

  Bastard, Charity thought coldly, as snowflakes drifted down around her. Cursing him in her mind was the only thing she could do to keep herself sane, after everything he’d done to her. Making her wear a harem outfit that was utterly unsuited to the cold weather was the least of it. You don’t have them under obedience charms and oaths.

  She looked down at the Emperor, feeling bitter hatred and helplessness curdling in her gut. He was a tall muscular man, wearing a red shirt and kilt; a wand, a sword and a handful of daggers glinted at his belt. His long black hair hung down around his shoulders, wild and unkempt; the neatly-trimmed beard provided an odd contrast, a message Charity didn’t really understand at all. But she knew him too well to feel any attraction; he’d killed the Grand Sorceress, claimed the throne and then offered her a flat choice between serving him or immediate death. In hindsight, death would have been preferable.

  The Emperor smirked as his men – the red-robed magicians, the oath-bound Inquisitors and a number of his private guards – climbed onto their dragons, then he scrambled up beside Charity and sat in front of her. Charity was almost relieved, even though she would sooner have cuddled up to a man-eating yeti than the Emperor. At least she wouldn’t be riding the dragon alone.

  “Up,” the Emperor commanded.

  Charity braced herself, just in time. The dragon unfurled its wings, flapped them once and hurled itself into the air. Charity looked down as they rose higher, feeling an unaccustomed sense of vertigo as the Golden City shrank beneath them. The skies echoed with howls from the dragons, a sound unheard for nearly a thousand years. It had been a long time since the very last dragon was exterminated. Now, even though the Emperor was bringing them back into the world, there was no one alive who knew how to stop a dragon. They’d torn through the wards of a dozen Great Houses as though they were made of paper.

  The air grew colder, rapidly, as they rose above the Seven Peaks and stared down at the remains of the Watchtower. Once, the Inquisitors had watched over the Golden City, their firm but fair judgements respected by all. Now, the Watchtower was gone – and no one knew how it had been destroyed – while the Inquisitors, oath-bound to serve the Emperor, followed Vlad and did his bidding. They couldn’t break their sworn oaths and live.

  Magic crackled around them – the Emperor let out a whoop of pure glee – as the dragons flew over the mountains, heading straight for the nearest city. Knawel Haldane stood only a bare couple of hours from the Golden City – less, if one rode the Iron Dragons – and it had always been loyal to the Empire. But now, with rumours flying everywhere and hundreds of Court Wizards either dead or trapped in the Golden City, the Empire was coming apart. Kings were declaring independence, rogue magicians were carving out states of their own …

  … And everyone else was caught in the middle.

  Charity shuddered at the thought, helplessly. She’d never really cared about the mundanes, about those unlucky enough to be born without magic. Indeed, she hadn’t cared that much about her Powerless brother … and hadn’t that turned into a joke, now Johan had become a dangerously powerful and unstable magician? Who cared about the opinions of people who were helpless against even the mildest compulsion hex? But now, her enslavement – and she was a slave, no matter her official title – showed her just how the mundanes must have felt, when they looked at her powerful family. Helpless, unable to do anything to protect themselves …

  Jamal enjoyed wielding his power, she thought, bitterly. It was true; her eldest brother had been a bullying sadist, picking on everyone weaker than him. But was I really that much better?

  It was an uncomfortable question. She’d expected to find herself married off to an older magician, not to find herself Head of House Conidian. Jamal would inherit the title, after all; everyone else would be expected to deport themselves to support him. And so she’d spent her days going to parties, shopping and generally having fun. There had been no thought of preparing herself for any other life. But now House Conidian was in ruins, her two younger siblings hostages and she was a slave.

  “Knawel Haldane,” the Emperor said. “Burn!”

  Charity felt her stomach rebel as the dragon swooped down, opening its mouth to spew out a raging torrent of flame. The guardhouse below exploded into fire, the handful of guards and makeshift defences incinerated before they had a chance to do anything … as if there was anything they could do. She shuddered as the dragon pulled up, then blasted a stream of fire into a line of houses, exploding them one by one. An arrow glanced off the dragon’s scales as someone tried to fight back, only to be vaporised by a blast of fire a second later.

  “A real man,” the Emperor said. His deep voice was tinged with heavy satisfaction. “But also a fool.”

  Magic flickered around them, again, as a handful of wizards tried to mount a defence, shooting off hexes and curses from their tower. The Emperor snickered as five of the dragons detached themselves from the rest and threw themselves on the tower, ripping it apart with casual ease. A lone figure, standing on top of the tower and waving her arms as she tried to cast a protective ward that might stand against the dragons, fell to her death in the flames. Charity felt a stab of pity, but she knew there was no point in saying anything. The Emperor regarded female magicians as abominations, wastes of potential when a powerful woman should have been having powerful sons. It made her wonder if he intended her to have children sooner or later, choosing her husband to suit himself. It was a terrifying thought.

  The dragon rose, soaring up into the air. Charity looked down; half the dragons had taken up positions outside the gates, their human riders raising wards intended to trap the population inside the city, while the remainder flocked over the city, breathing down fire on anyone foolish enough to challenge them. Several large fires were raging through the houses, although many of the wealthier parts of the city looked untouched. Their homes would be warded against flames, Charity knew. They’d be untouched unless the dragons targeted them specifically.

  But the poor will be forced out of their homes, she thought. And then they will die.

  “We land,” the Emperor said.

&nb
sp; The dragon dropped down and landed before the remains of the first gatehouse. Charity gagged as she smelt the burning human flesh, then followed the Emperor as he jumped off the dragon and landed neatly on the remains of the road. His followers bowed to him; he nodded back, then turned his attention to the city. Behind them, Charity could hear the sound of his marching army advancing from the Golden City. It wouldn’t be long before Knawel Haldane was completely surrounded. Resistance would be utterly futile.

  She looked up as she saw a handful of people picking their way through the gatehouse and walking towards them. The leader was a middle-aged man wearing a merchant’s outfit; here, away from the Golden City, a man didn’t have to be a magician to rule. Indeed, unless she missed her guess, the man behind the leader was a magician. He was definitely carrying a wand on his belt, although he was careful to show that he wasn’t holding it at the ready. The last three men looked like bureaucrats, probably tax collectors. They never visited House Conidian, of course, but anyone without the power to stand up to them would find himself plucked like a chicken.