The Black Knife Read online

  The Black Knife

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  http://www.chrishanger.net/

  http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/

  http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

  Cover Blurb

  The most dangerous form of magic on Touched – a world where those born with magic wield political power – is necromancy, the art of drawing magical power from the act of murder. It has long been banned and rightfully so, yet the ambitious and power-hungry Duke Herod – intent on placing his posterior upon the Golden Throne – has resurrected the art, planning to use it to destroy the Royal Family and take the Throne for himself.

  On the eve of their wedding, Prince Eric and Mistress Hind are forced to flee the Palace as Herod’s forces launch a coup against the Emperor. As they make their way to the only safety left in a world touched by necromancy and darkest magic, they are pursued by Herod’s men, while behind them Herod sinks further into madness. If the necromancer cannot be stopped, the entire world is in terrible danger…

  …And may be destroyed.

  (As a matter of principle, all of my self-published electronic books are DRM-free. If you don’t like Kindle format, just convert the files using Calibre or another conversion program. And you can draw a much larger sample from my site...)

  Dear Reader

  If you downloaded this during the promotion, I hope you enjoy this free introduction to my work. I have other books on Kindle, a number of my earlier books free on my website and a blog; please feel free to check them out. If you would like to reward me, you are welcome to send me money through PayPal or buy me a book on my wish-list (see my site: http://www.chrishanger.net), but all I really ask is that you leave a review on Amazon. Yes, this is another attempt to gain readers and promotion .

  If you didn't obtain this book when it was being offered for free, I do run promotional events fairly regularly. Subscribe to my blog (http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/) or facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall) and you will receive updates.

  As you will notice, this book is both intended to be stand-alone and the start of a new series. The planned book two, The Shadow Sword, will be written if I get enough interest, so if you like this story please review and let me know. And check out The Royal Sorceress, which has been published on Kindle and will be published in paperback in February 2012.

  As a matter of principle, all of my self-published electronic books are DRM-free. If you don’t like Kindle format, just convert the files using Calibre or another conversion program. And you can draw a much larger sample from my site...

  This book is dedicated to everyone who believed in my writing enough to help.

  Thank you!

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Kota Kinabalu, 2012

  Prologue

  The chamber stank of blood.

  Duke Herod smiled to himself as the five people he had invited reacted to the smell. The mere presence of the blood – crusted and ancient, more a shade of what had once occurred than anything else - proved to anyone with the knowledge to see just what the chamber had once been used to do…and what it would be used to do again. All such chambers should have been destroyed, but Herod’s ancestors had been careful, preserving their secrets in case the fragile peace had shattered. A magician with the Sight who peered into the chamber would have seen the blood, and ghostly echoes of times long gone, before recoiling and closing down his Sight. The shimmering magic that ran though the walls of the chamber would see to that.

  “We are deep under the ground,” Herod said. His ancestors had built Castle Azimuth on a rocky mountain peak, using old and complex magic to secure it against all comers…and then dug deep under the mountain, hiding their most secret possessions from all who would seek to take them by force. Castle Azimuth had never been taken, not in all the time it had existed. Herod had no intention of being the last Lord of the Castle. He just wanted something more. “There is no way that any of the Emperor’s pet sorcerers can spy on us.”

  He cast his eyes over his guests. One of them was a Master Magician, a man who would have been Grandmaster of the Academy, were it not for childish resentments and hatred. The others were all, in their own way, as powerful as Herod himself, at least in theory. His position as second in line to the Throne of Touched would put him above them in a social situation, but here they were his equals. They all shared his concerns for the future. He watched as they waited for him to speak, smiling inwardly. They knew what the chamber was for…and they hadn’t run. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had – he had stationed guards in case one of his guests had a sudden change of heart – but it was good to know that they were committed to the cause. They just didn’t know how committed they were, not yet.

  “I spoke to the Emperor twenty days ago,” he said, calmly. “He has rejected our objections to the…proposal to lift several commoner families into the nobility and intends to proceed with it. His allies among the lesser nobility will help force it through even over our objections. There is no longer any time to hope that he will come to his senses.”

  The group showed no reaction, even though it was the worst possible news. To be born a noble on Touched meant being automatically part of High Society, no matter the level of magical talent such a person developed. The influx of commoners, who traded their magical blood for acceptance into the nobility, was one thing. They were married into older families, after all. The new families, men and women who had made their money in trade rather than land ownership or magic, were something else altogether. The older families looked upon the face of the future and saw their doom approaching.

  “One month from today, on Midsummer’s Eve, he intends to present the commoners with their Patents of Nobility,” Herod continued. “From that day on, High Society will no longer be pure. It will not be long before we are crushed under the weight of the new nobility. We need to act now.”

  He watched their faces as the news sank in. They knew what would happen if there were more lower-born families in High Society. The newer magicians would marry into those families, rather than the older families, ensuring that the newer families would rapidly become more powerful than the older families. The whole concept of land ownership would be called into question. No one cared what a magic-less commoner and his family thought about politics, but an aristocratic family was something else.

  “The Emperor can be toppled,” he said, watching their faces carefully. They were stepping over the line to outright treason. “We can topple the Emperor. If we act now, and fast, we can remove him and his son before his son produces a Heir.”

  There was a long chilling pause. “I have heard,” Lady Asma said, finally, “that Prince Eric is on the verge of choosing a wife.”

  Herod didn’t miss the disgust in her tone. Lady Asma was young – her parents had been killed during one of the innumerable clan feuds that ravaged that part of Touched – and it wouldn’t be long until she would have to marry. When she did, she would have the choice between the young aristocrat she loved or a common-born magician, someone whose blood could be added to her own and produce stronger children. Society – the lesser lords under her – would push her towards the commoner. It was her duty to the nobility to ensure that the magic grew stronger. Of all of them, she had the greatest stake in changing the status quo.

  “I believe that he has made his selection,” Herod said, confirming her fears. After the Crown Prince was married, she wouldn’t be able to delay her own marriage any longer. “It will be announced on Midsummer’s Eve, after the new nobles have been raised to the peerage.”

  He smiled inwardly at their expressions. “I intend to unseat the Emperor and reclaim what is ours,” he said. “Why should we bow down t
o commoners when we can rule over them? Why should we give them our daughters and sons? Why…when we can take the power that is ours by right?”

  “I seem to recall that we bring commoners into the nobility because of their bloodlines,” Lord Galen said. He was a lesser lord who wanted to be a greater lord. His appetite for everything – food, drink, women and power – was insatiable. No matter how much he ate, he could never satisfy his hunger. “The noble bloodlines that did not embrace the commoners declined and faded in power.”

  Herod smiled. “We have spells that can track down common-born magicians,” he said. “When we find them, we kill them, strangling the threat in its cradle. The only magicians who will be allowed to live will be those born to the nobility.”

  “The Grandmaster will not allow us to hunt down magicians,” Master Reginald pointed out. Only he and Herod knew that they had planned that question beforehand. “Can we stand against the Academy itself?”

  “Of course,” Herod said, sensing their doubts. The Academy might have been required to remain politically neutral, but they all knew the power concealed within its walls. If the Grandmaster backed the Emperor, their plans for a coup and a swift transfer of power would be imperilled. “We have friends and allies within the Academy itself. We also have an ace up our sleeves.”

  He stood up. “Come with me.”

  The outer chamber had been small, small enough to allow them to feel both comfortable and secure. The inner chamber was much larger. At one point, it had held over a thousand men and women in relative comfort, but now it was empty, apart from the woman – girl, really – lying on the altar. The stench of blood – and the odd sparks of magic – grew stronger. Herod closed down his Sight with an effort, trying to hide from the ghostly images echoing through the room. The others, seeing the chamber for the first time, recoiled in horror. They knew what it was, all right.

  “We caught this commoner on the edge of Lycanth,” Herod said. He gazed down at the girl. She was, if he was any judge, barely older than sixteen. The Journeywoman’s robes she wore were new, suggesting that she had only just graduated from the Academy. Her eyes were wide with fear. She was trapped under a complex network of spells that drained her power, making it impossible for her to free herself or summon help. “We believe that she was sent to spy on us.”

  He smiled. “Take your places,” he ordered, nodding to the five-pointed star that had been drawn around the altar. “It’s time.”

  Master Reginald had speculated that some of the guests would refuse to take part in the ceremony, but no one argued, or refused his commands. Herod stood, smiling down at the girl as they took their places, before he drew the black knife from under his robes and held it above her chest. The knife tingled against his skin, whispering dark suggestions into his head, but he pushed them aside. There was no time to listen to the knife’s suggestions. He had been learning how to use it properly ever since he’d inherited it from his father. It hadn’t taken him long to see how it – and the lost art of Necromancy – could be used to stake his claim to the throne.

  “There is power in death,” he intoned, beginning the ceremony. No one was quite sure how much of the ceremony was actually required, but research into the subject rarely led to a long and happy life. The girl whimpered, straining against her bonds, as he spoke the words of power. There was power in death...and the greatest power came from a dead magician. “On the cusp between life and death, there is power. I claim that power.”

  The knife seemed to plunge downwards of its own accord, stabbing deep into the girl’s heart. Oddly, there was no blood. Instead, a rich heavy wave of power seemed to shimmer in the air, spreading out rapidly to all five points of the star. Herod heard his guests cry out as they sensed the first wave of power, boosting their leader’s magical reserves. The sensation was almost intoxicating. The altar lit up, casting a dull reddish light across the chamber. He pulled the knife out of the girl’s body and held it in the air, feeling the power spiralling through the knife and down into his body.

  And then it was over.

  He looked over at his guests and chuckled. Plotting rebellion was one thing, but necromancy – and murdering a Journeywoman – was another. The Academy would never forgive them for either. The only hope for them was to win the coming war and take power for themselves. They hadn’t realised that yet, not still caught up in the after-effects, but realisation would come soon enough. And then they would be his.

  Herod laughed aloud, feeling the power coursing through him…and if there was a hint of madness in his laugh, no one noticed, or cared.

  Chapter One

  It was a dark and stormy night.

  Hind braced herself as she ran through the forest, drawing on her magic to avoid collisions with the trees that she barely saw in the darkness. Branches lashed out at her face, briefly illuminated by flashes of lightning in the sky, before vanishing again into the shadows. The missing girl had to be somewhere ahead of her, but it was so hard to see or sense anything. There was so much wild magic in the area that her Sight was almost useless. The magic mocked her with the promise of power, at a price no human could pay. Wild magic, magic without control or limits, was abroad in the night.

  Her hair tangled in one of the branches and she paused to pull it loose, catching her breath as she did so. She wanted to swear, but with so much magic around it was impossible to know who – or what – might be listening. If the girl’s mother hadn’t begged, if the girl hadn’t been born poor and hopeless, if…Hind might not have raced after her. Very few people would risk going anywhere near wild magic, not if it could be avoided. Even a Master Magician would hesitate before going anywhere near wild magic.

  Lightning flashed again…and, this time, she caught a glimpse of a clearing up ahead. She pulled her hair back into a bun – it had come loose during the long chase – and paced herself as she walked down towards the clearing. Her senses were completely scrambled by the wild magic, denying her any way of sensing the dangers before she stumbled into them, but she’d gone too far to back out now. The trees seemed to back away from her as she passed them, withdrawing their branches from blocking her path. They could almost have been alive. With wild magic, anything was possible. Even as a young Apprentice, Hind had heard stories about magicians who tinkered with wild magic. Those stories never ended well.

  “Emily,” she shouted, calling the girl’s name. It was barely audible above the storm. Emily had fled from her family just after Hind had arrived in the village, fled from her parents and the boy she was to marry. No one knew why. The villagers called the forest the Forest of the Dead and refused to have anything to do with it, so when they’d realised – after a long search – that Emily had to be somewhere within the forest, they’d asked Hind to search for her. Only a magician could hope to survive, they’d said. Right now, part of Hind was wishing that she hadn’t listened to them. “Emily!”

  There was no response as she stepped into the clearing. Up close, it seemed to be miles across, with a tiny pool of water in the centre. As Hind stepped into the clearing, the noise of the storm suddenly faded and was gone, leaving her standing in the midst of silence. It was eerie enough to almost break her resolve, but she pushed on, walking slowly and carefully towards the pool. Wild magic seemed to be glowing around it, mocking her. Carefully, she opened up her third eye and peered towards the pool, only to slam it closed as the wild magic almost blinded her. It wasn’t a pool, she realised, as she clutched her head. It was a wellspring, a source of magic. No wonder the forest was so dangerous. Over the centuries, wild magic had been leaking out into the forest and warping the environment randomly. Who knew what could be lurking within the trees and branches.

  She swallowed a curse under her breath and stepped closer, studying the pool carefully. If Emily had dived into the pool, there would be no hope of recovering her, no hope of saving her from what she had become. If Emily was anywhere near, she might not have survived even the forest itself, not as she had been. What
ever had made her flee, whatever had called her into the forest, had probably killed her. Hind turned, gazing towards the trees at the edge of the clearing, and felt her eyes narrow. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked almost as if the trees were closing in on her, pushing her towards the pool. She couldn’t see the path that had brought her to the clearing any longer. The flashes of lightning high above revealed nothing, but unbroken trees.

  Hind turned, realising that she’d walked right into a trap, and stopped dead. There was a person standing at the edge of the pool…no, standing within the pool. Another flash of lightning revealed that it was a young teenage girl, standing with her back to Hind, staring at something she held in her hand. Hind glanced at the trees, daring them to move closer, and slipped around the edge of the pool to Emily. It had to be Emily, yet…why wasn’t she moving? If she’d swum in the pool, what had happened to her. Hind called to her, hoping that she would turn and answer, but Emily said nothing. A flash of lightning, so bright that Hind screwed up her eyes to protect them from the light, revealed the answer. The girl was nothing more than a perfect marble statue.