Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12) Read online

  Fists of Justice

  (Schooled in Magic XII)

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Twilight Times Books

  Kingsport Tennessee

  Fists of Justice

  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 © 2017 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, May 2017

  Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

  Except from Zero Blessing © 2017 Christopher G. Nuttall. Reprinted by permission of the author.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Forty

  Appendix: The Financial Crisis of Beneficence

  Appendix: Religion in the Nameless World

  The Zero Blessing Excerpt:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Dedication

  To George, with many thanks.

  Prologue

  AS SOON AS SHE WAS SURE her mother was asleep, Alba pulled her wand out of her sleeve and tapped it against the anchorstone embedded within her bedroom window. There was a flicker of magic – strong enough for her to feel, but too weak to trigger the house’s wards – and the protections unlocked. Opening the window, Alba clambered out and scrambled down the uneven wall until her feet touched the ground.

  She glanced up and down the alleyway, then waved her wand again. The window slid closed, stopping a second before the lock could snap shut. Alba allowed herself a moment of relief as she carefully recharged the wand, channeling magic and spells into the wood. She thought she’d worked out the spells properly, but accidentally locking herself out of the house would be embarrassing. Her mother would be furious if she caught her daughter outside after nightfall. Alba would be lucky if she wasn’t grounded for the next thousand years.

  A shape appeared at the far end of the alley. “Alba?”

  “Quiet,” Alba hissed, as she slipped the wand into her belt. “Mum’s wards might notice you!”

  She smiled as her boyfriend came into view. They were very different; she was short, with red hair cropped close to her scalp, while Antony was tall, his pale skin contrasting oddly with his dark hair and darker almond eyes. Like many others from the merchant class, his father had been born in Beneficence, but his mother’s family hailed from somewhere on the other side of the known world. She didn’t hold that against him. Beneficence lived by trade. Family connections to distant lands could only come in handy. Besides, he was one of the few boys brave enough to court the daughter of a sorceress. Most young men didn’t have the nerve.

  “We’re going to be late,” he muttered, as he took her hand and hurried her down the alleyway. “How far do the wards stretch?”

  “I’m not sure,” Alba confessed, sourly. She touched her wand, feeling a flicker of the old regret. She’d been born with magic, but not enough to justify her parents paying for a proper magical education. The spells her mother had taught her – and the spells she’d sneaked out of her mother’s spellbooks – were all she’d ever had. “I think we’ll be safe once we’re out of the alley.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Antony said. He glanced at his watch. “Vesperian always throws the best parties.”

  Alba had to smile. “Did your father get the contract?”

  “And several hundred notes,” Antony added. “We should be sitting pretty for the next few years, at least until Vesperian’s Track is completed.”

  “Good,” Alba said. Antony would be first in line to take over his father’s business. It would give him a secure base to support a wife, if they got married. Alba’s family was wealthy – she could support herself, if necessary – but they’d expect Antony to pay for everything. And they should have no grounds to object. Antony might not be a magician, but he could definitely lift Alba up the social scale. “And how much of the negotiation did you do?”

  “Just a little,” Antony said. One of the reasons Alba liked him was that he wasn’t as boastful as some of the other young men. “I purchased a few dozen notes for myself, though, at very good rates. They should pay off in a couple of years.”

  The streets grew more crowded as they made their way towards Starry Light, the wealthiest part of the city. Beneficence never slept, not even late at night. Her heart pounded with excitement. It wasn’t something she saw often, considering her mother was a little overprotective. She smiled as she saw a line of dancers making their way down the street, clapping and cheering as they extolled the praises of someone she’d never heard of for guildmaster. Antony pulled her through the crowds, then stopped. There were so many people!

  “We’d better go this way,” he said, pulling her into another alley. “We don’t want to be too late.”

  Alba smiled. There were alleys down in the Lower Depths, her mother had warned her, where anyone foolish enough to enter would never emerge again. She’d never been allowed to visit the area, so she didn’t know if it was true. But here, with the City Guard patrolling regularly, the alleys were clear. Drunks, beggars and muggers knew better than to tangle with the Guard. The alleyway even smelled better than the street near her house.

  Her smile grew wider as they came out of the maze and walked towards the mansion. No one really knew how rich Vesperian actually was, but anyone who owned a giant mansion in Beneficence – where space was at a premium – had to be immensely rich. To Alba, the line of young men and women entering the mansion, some of the women wearing dresses that revealed far too much, was just icing on the cake. She recognized a number of people who were either wealthy and powerful in their own right, or heirs to great wealth and power. A handful surrounded them as they made their way through the gates, her skin crawling as she sensed a powerful ward protecting the mansion. Antony waved them away, promising to speak to them l
ater.

  “Thank you,” Alba whispered. Antony had promised her a night of dancing, not a night of secret negotiations. Besides, how secret could anything be at this party? “Shall we dance?”

  “Of course,” Antony whispered back. “They’ll be waiting for me after I see you home.”

  He led her into the mansion and onto the dance floor. Alba shook her head in disbelief at the sheer luxury, ranging from colossal tables groaning under the weight of food to golden statues and expensive paintings that dominated the room. A couple were explicit enough to make her blush. She had no idea how the artist had managed to convince anyone to do that long enough for him to make the preliminary sketches. Antony paid no attention to them, much to her relief. Hopefully, they wouldn’t give him any ideas. She liked him more than she cared to admit, but she wasn’t ready to do more than kissing yet.

  Besides, there were other complications.

  “We’re just here to dance,” Antony said, when a pair of middle-aged men tried to call him over. Alba was relieved. They’d been on the dance floor for nearly an hour, but neither of them wanted to leave just yet. “I’ll be back in the office tomorrow.”

  Alba smiled at him. “What do they want to talk about?”

  “Business.” Antony beamed. “We’re hot at the moment, you know.”

  “I know,” Alba said.

  She leaned in and kissed him, then jerked her head towards the door. Many of the younger boys and girls were heading home, clearly hoping to get back before curfew. She wasn’t the only one who’d sneaked out, she was sure. Being caught at the dance, particularly as the night wore on, would ruin a young person’s social life. Everyone knew what happened in the wee hours of the morning, even if no one could put it into words.

  Antony grinned back at her as he led her through the doors and out onto the streets. The air felt colder now, a faint…edge…flickering at the periphery of her awareness, but she barely noticed. Antony led her back into the maze of alleyways, picking his way through the darkened streets with easy assurance. And yet…Alba found herself glancing from side to side as she realized what was missing. The alley was completely empty. It shouldn’t have been, even at such a late hour. Beneficence was the city that never slept.

  “We’re nearly home,” Antony said. He turned to face her. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I did.” Alba’s heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. “I…”

  She leaned forward, lifting her head so he could kiss her. His lips felt soft and warm against hers, just for a second. And then he tensed…

  “I don’t want to end up like Ridley,” he said. “Is it safe…?”

  Alba felt another flicker of irritation. Jaya, Alba’s elder sister, had dated Ridley until he’d put his hand under her shirt and discovered, the hard way, that their mother had layered protective spells on her daughters. Alba had been too young to be interested in men at the time, but she still recalled the shouting match. Ridley hadn’t even known she’d been protected until it was too late. Jaya had left the city afterwards and never been seen again.

  “It should be,” she said. She lifted her lips for another kiss. “As long as we don’t go too far.”

  He kissed her again. The world seemed to darken, just enough for Alba to notice. An electric shock ran through the air. For a horrified moment, she thought she was wrong, that Antony’s kisses had triggered a protective hex. And then her boyfriend looked up, his eyes looking past her. His mouth dropped open.

  They were no longer alone.

  Alba turned, one hand snatching her wand from her belt. She might not be a powerful magician, but she could make any unwary footpads regret they ever saw her. And then she froze as she saw the…entity…standing behind them. For a long moment, her eyes seemed to blur as her mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. The entity was no taller than Antony, yet he seemed infinitely tall; he was human, but somehow far more real than any mere human. His face and beard seemed carved from granite. His dark eyes were deep pools of shadow. She couldn’t even look at him.

  “Justice,” Antony breathed.

  Alba started. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Some sorcerer’s idea of a joke, perhaps. Or maybe her mother had decided to scare them both…she lifted her wand, casting a cancellation charm.

  The entity didn’t vanish. Instead, its presence seemed to grow stronger and stronger until it overpowered her. It was so big.

  She heard her wand clatter to the ground. A moment later, she fell to her knees. She couldn’t help herself. Her body felt utterly drained.

  The entity strode forward, its footsteps shaking the cobbles below her knees. It was all Alba could do to keep watching as it came to a halt in front of Antony. Her boyfriend had fallen to his knees too. She saw him trembling as the entity stared down at him. Her mouth was dry, with fear and…and something she didn’t care to identify. It couldn’t be a real god, could it?

  “Antony, Son of Emil,” the entity said. It spoke in a quiet voice that boomed in Alba’s ears, each word precisely enunciated. “You and yours have led this city to ruin.”

  Impossible, Alba thought. She could barely think clearly. He’s so young!

  “Mercy,” Antony gasped.

  “There is no mercy,” the entity said. There was a power in its voice, a sheer conviction that every word it spoke was the unquestionable truth. “There is only Justice.”

  Antony’s body blazed with light. Alba screamed, feeling as if daggers were being driven into her very soul. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperately trying to block out the pain. And then the light faded. She fell backwards, bumping her shoulder on the cobblestones. The pain made her jerk her eyes open…

  …She was alone.

  Her fingers touched her wand. The tingle, the sensation she felt whenever she touched a charged wand, was gone. She couldn’t muster the energy to prepare a spell, let alone power it. The darkness seemed stronger, somehow, as if the moon and stars had been blotted from the skies. And yet…

  She stumbled to her feet. Antony still knelt on the ground, utterly unmoving. She reached for his arm and touched cold stone. He’d been turned to stone…no, if he’d been petrified, she would have felt a tingle…wouldn’t she?

  The moon came out again, shining into the alleyway. And she screamed, again, as she caught a glimpse of his face…

  It was twisted in horrific agony.

  Chapter One

  THE AIR…STANK.

  Emily was dimly aware, at the back of her mind, that someone was knocking on a wooden door. And yet, it didn’t seem important. She wasn’t even entirely sure where she was. The ground was shifting beneath her, sending up alarm bells she couldn’t quite hear. And yet…

  “Emily,” a voice called. A male voice. “Wake up!”

  Emily jerked awake. She was on a ship, she recalled; a merchant ship that did double duty as a warship, when the seafaring states went to war. And she was heading to Beneficence. And Casper was dead…

  “I’m awake,” she managed. She opened her eyes. Her stomach muttered rebelliously. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

  “Good,” General Pollack said. His voice was so close that she looked around in alarm before realizing he was on the far side of a wooden door. “Come meet me on the quarterdeck when you’re ready.”

  Emily nodded as she heard the sound of his footsteps striding away. She was, as far as she knew, the only woman on the ship, although General Pollack had told her stories of young girls who’d run away to sea and somehow managed to conceal their gender for decades. Emily wasn’t sure how that was possible – she’d seen the crew quarters and their complete lack of privacy – but she was prepared to take his word for it. She might have tried to run away too, if she’d thought it possible. And, perhaps, if she’d had any stomach for seafaring. She’d been on the boat for five days and she still felt seasick.

  We should have teleported, she thought. They had teleported to the nearest port, then called a ship to pick them up. But the g
eneral said it was tradition…

  She sat upright, glancing around the cabin. It belonged to the captain, who’d flatly refused to let anyone else give up their sleeping space to the young sorceress, noblewoman and war heroine. Emily would have been more impressed if she hadn’t known that the captain had moved into his first mate’s cabin, who in turn had displaced the officer directly below him…she shook her head, telling herself that she should be grateful. The cabin was cramped and smelly, despite the gilded wooden bulkheads, but it was private. She’d seen the way some of the sailors – and officers – gawked at her when they thought she wasn’t looking.

  Swinging her legs over the side, she stood, careful not to bang her head on the low ceiling as she slipped on her shoes. Sleeping in her clothes made her feel icky, but there was no way she’d wear a nightgown, let alone sleep naked, on the ship. She took some water from her canteen and splashed it on her face, then examined her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess – she hadn’t had a chance to take a hair-growth potion back in Farrakhan – and her face was pale, dark circles clearly visible around her eyes. She looked distressingly like a raccoon – or, perhaps, someone who’d come off worst in a fight. Her shirt and trousers looked unclean, as if they hadn’t been washed for a few days. Magic wasn’t good enough to clean them. The only real consolation was that most of the crew looked worse.

  We should definitely have teleported, she thought, as she felt the deck shifting beneath her feet. Her legs wobbled, just for a second. I could have teleported us both back to Cockatrice and we could have crossed the bridge there.

  She took a sip of seasickness potion – it wasn’t strong enough to provide more than minimal relief, but anything stronger would have impaired her mind – and headed for the door. General Pollack had insisted on taking his son’s remains home via ship, despite her objections. In hindsight, Emily told herself, she should have asked to remain at Farrakhan with Sergeant Miles or even asked the sergeant to prolong her apprenticeship for an additional couple of weeks. But she hadn’t.