11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 5

  He might have opened a portal, she thought, grimly. Most necromancers don’t have the skill to open a portal, but this one is unusually dangerous.

  “Be careful,” Frieda warned, as Sergeant Miles stepped into the room. “The necromancer will hate you most of all.”

  “Probably ... ” Sergeant Miles said. He smiled at Frieda, then winked at Emily. “We could use you as bait in a trap.”

  Emily made a face. “Only if there’s no other choice,” she said. “Sergeant ... could the necromancer have opened a portal?”

  “It’s been considered,” Sergeant Miles said. “So far, nothing has been detected. A portal should be noticeable from quite some distance.”

  “It could be in the desert,” Emily pointed out. “Have you managed to get anyone right up to the borderline?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Sergeant Miles said. He dismissed Frieda, then smiled, rather thinly. “But right now you have other problems. How much do you intend to leave behind?”

  Emily felt her head pounding, an hour later, as she was finally dismissed from the room. The sergeant had questioned each and every one of her choices with savage intensity, making her doubt herself. Everything was needed, he said ... but how was she meant to carry it all without collapsing? In the end, he’d pointed out that she could obtain some of what she needed in the camp, but told her to keep the bare essentials. Running short of potions to deal with her periods would be embarrassing.

  “Report back to me in two hours,” he’d finished. “You have some spells to learn.”

  Emily made her way to the dining hall, found herself a plate of food and sat down to eat. The hall was in bad shape, even though most of the broken tables had been removed and turned into firewood. Thankfully, the kitchens were still producing food. Her headache started to fade as she drank water, reminding her — again — that water was an essential part of her supply kit. There was no point in knowing a dozen spells to purify the water if there was no water at all.

  I may have bitten off more than I can chew, she thought, ruefully. Mistress Danielle had taught her more combat spells, but she hadn’t forced Emily on long marches to stretch her legs. I wish I had more time to prepare.

  She looked up as Jasmine entered the dining hall, a dark blood-red scar clearly visible on her face. It was a nasty hex, Emily noted, watching the first-year girl slowly make her way over to her table. Jasmine was normally strikingly pretty, but the hex twisted her face into something thoroughly unpleasant. And she smelled too, a foul scent that made Emily’s stomach lurch uncomfortably. Tiega had clearly taken a savage revenge on her enemy.

  “Lady Emily,” Jasmine said. She swallowed. “Are you really leaving us?”

  “Not for long,” Emily said. “I will be back.”

  She couldn’t help feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Jasmine had acted badly, very badly. The anonymous notes she’d sent to Tiega had been nothing short of bullying, all the worse because the poor girl had been unable to strike back. But, at the same time, Tiega’s revenge would mark Jasmine for life. The hex would fade, given time. The damage to Jasmine’s reputation would not.

  “She’s mad at me,” Jasmine confessed. One finger traced out the scar on her face. “I think she hates me.”

  Emily lifted her eyebrows. “Do you blame her?”

  “She was awful to us,” Jasmine said. She gave Emily a plaintive look. “Lady Emily ...”

  “And if someone is awful to you,” Emily asked, “does that give you the right to be awful back?”

  “She wouldn’t stop,” Jasmine said, resentfully. “I thought ...”

  Emily felt a flicker of tired understanding. Taking the moral high ground was all very well and good, but real life didn’t give a damn. Bullies wouldn’t stop bullying unless they were met with greater force, regardless of whether they were school bullies or foppish aristocrats. What was the point of claiming to be the better person if the better person couldn’t defend herself against threats? To refuse to fight only made oneself a target.

  But she couldn’t condone what Jasmine had done.

  “I’ll speak to her, later,” she promised. She’d meant to spend more time with the younger students she was supposed to mentor. But she doubted she’d be able to do it anytime soon. “Until then ...”

  She sniffed, then cast an analysis spell. Tiega, whatever her faults, was an accomplished spellcaster. The hex — actually a trio of hexes — was something she would have expected from a third-year student. Tough, extremely hard to remove ... she felt a flicker of admiration as she parsed out the third hex. Anyone who tried to remove it would have to do some pretty fancy footwork to avoid being stung badly. Professor Lombardi would have no trouble removing it, she was sure, but she would have problems.

  Tiega will be in trouble if Jasmine tries to get it removed, Emily thought, dryly. It isn’t quite locked, but its close enough to cause no end of trouble.

  “I’ll speak to her,” she repeated. She’d hoped that Tiega and Jasmine would learn to work together, the way Alassa and she had become friends, but it seemed as though she was out of luck. “And if the hex lingers for more than a week, go ask the Head Girl to remove it.”

  “I told her,” Jasmine said. “I confessed.”

  It took Emily a moment to realize that Jasmine meant Tiega, rather than Aloha. It was rare for a student to go running to a teacher — or even the Head Girl — if they got into trouble, even if they were being bullied. It wasn’t something she approved of, but Whitehall was more interested in teaching self-reliance than protecting its students. The staff wouldn’t step in unless there was a serious threat to life and limb.

  “She wouldn’t have been happy,” Emily pointed out, dryly. “What did you expect?”

  Jasmine flushed, angrily. “Not ... not this.”

  Emily reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she promised. She would have to find Tiega later, if only to point out the dangers of carrying her revenge a little too far. The Grandmaster would take a dim view of a hex that was difficult to remove — and, perhaps, impossible for a first-year student. “Now, go eat something and then go back to helping repair the school.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Jasmine said.

  She turned and hurried off. Emily watched her go, wishing she knew how she felt about the situation. She’d failed Jasmine and Tiega ... perhaps it had been a mistake to force Jasmine to confess. But Tiega had needed to know that her tormentor had been silenced. She wouldn’t have thanked Emily for keeping the details to herself. And then ...

  Emily rose, carrying her empty dishes and placing them on the trolley to be washed before walking out of the room and down the corridor. There was still at least another hour before she was due back in the Armory, so she walked back to the dorms and checked the wards. Tiega wasn’t in her bedroom, unsurprisingly. The first-years knew the least magic, yet there was still work for them to do rebuilding the school. Emily was tempted to use the castle’s wards to find Tiega, but she dismissed the thought. She couldn’t give in to the temptation without risking everything.

  Instead, she walked back through the castle, glancing into classroom after classroom as she passed. She had to admit that Gordian was a great organizer, whatever his flaws. He’d not only managed to get the students working to repair the damage, he’d brought in outside experts and set them to work rebuilding the wards. Emily had a private suspicion that he intended to eventually reopen the control chamber below the castle, but the wards wouldn’t let him in without her approval. Until then ...

  She waved cheerfully at the Gorgon, who’d been assigned to help Professor Thande brew more potions, and made her way back down into the Armory. Three of the spellchambers were occupied, but a fourth was deserted. Emily checked the wards carefully, then stepped into the chamber and started to cast a series of spells, one after the other. Her magic seemed to hum around her as she allowed it to run free, blurring into the castle’s wards. They seemed almost to dance around her.
<
br />   The door opened. She turned, expecting to see Sergeant Miles. Instead, Grandmaster Gordian stepped into the room. Emily braced herself, unsure what to expect. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, with long dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. Emily couldn’t help thinking that he had aged a decade overnight, as Whitehall School had begun to collapse around him. His predecessor had been over a hundred years old.

  “Emily,” Gordian said.

  Emily bowed her head. “Grandmaster.”

  She couldn’t recall the Grandmaster — either Grandmaster — seeking her out before, not like this. She’d met Gordian before he’d become Grandmaster, back at Cockatrice, but since then ... he’d either summoned her to his office or met her after she’d tried to teleport out of the trap below Whitehall.

  “Your spells have improved,” Gordian said, tilting his head. “You’re turning into a very powerful young lady.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Emily said.

  Her mind raced. Did he know about her weekend combat training with Mistress Danielle? Were his words a subtle rebuke — or a warning? Or did he believe, despite all the evidence, that she might have learned forgotten magics from Lord Whitehall himself? Or was he merely trying to make conversation? She honestly had no idea what he wanted. To ask her if she really wanted to go, perhaps? Or to encourage her to go? She rather suspected he disliked the idea of a student who could overrule him at will.

  “Your father was surprisingly insistent that you be allowed to accompany Sergeant Miles,” Gordian added, after a moment. “He has not yet granted you your majority?”

  Emily winced, inwardly. Void was her legal guardian, at least as long as she stayed in school. And yet, her position was odd. By some standards, she was an adult; by others, she was still legally a child. In truth, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. On one hand, it was humiliating to be treated as a child when she was twenty years old; on the other, it was nice to know that someone was looking out for her. But she hadn’t seen Void for months.

  “Not yet, sir,” she said. She’d researched the age of majority in the Nameless World, only to discover that it tended to rely on the parents. Some parents granted their children freedom almost as soon as they entered their teens, others tried to control their children as long as possible. “I believe he wants me to complete my schooling first.”

  “Which may be difficult if you go to the wars,” Gordian said, dryly. “Are you sure you want to go?”

  “I think I have to go,” Emily said, after a moment. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I could have saved thousands of lives, but did nothing.”

  Caleb had accepted that argument. Gordian didn’t seem as impressed. “You will never know if there was something you could have done or not,” he said, shortly. “Can you defeat a necromancer in single combat?”

  “I have,” Emily lied. She’d killed two necromancers, but she’d cheated both times. Did Gordian know what she’d done? She’d always suspected Grandmaster Hasdrubal knew the truth, even though he’d never mentioned it to her. “And if I have to do it again, I will.”

  Gordian studied her for a long moment. “Very well,” he said. “You have my permission to go. And when you return, we will consider where you may best resume your studies.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Emily said. Gordian couldn’t have stopped her from leaving, but he might have made it impossible for her to return. He certainly had extremely good cause. “I hope to be back soon.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Gordian said. “As long as a single necromancer remains alive, the war will never be over.”

  Emily nodded. There were ways to deal with necromancers now, if she had the time to craft them. A Mimic, one programmed only to attack necromancers; a pocket dimension, combined with the nuke-spell; her batteries, combined with lethal spells ... she had plenty of ideas. But she’d need time to prepare them. She doubted she had that time.

  “I will also give you my blessing,” Gordian added. “The Mage Lord of Heart’s Eye was a friend of mine. He didn’t deserve to die in his school.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said. Gordian had friends? She shook her head in annoyance. Of course he had friends. Hell, there were tutors who thought he was doing a good job. “Do you know what happened?”

  “The necromancer must have sneaked through the wards, somehow,” Gordian said. “There are ways ... there’s no such thing as an impregnable defense. But the Mage Lord should have been able to take precautions ...”

  He sighed. “Be careful, Emily,” he added. “This necromancer is cunning. And that makes him very dangerous.”

  Chapter Five

  “HAVE YOU PACKED EVERYTHING?” CALEB ASKED.

  “I think so,” Emily said. He’d helped her go through the rucksack one last time, but they’d been unable to slim it down any further. Thankfully, she could carry it — barely. “I have everything I need.”

  “Write to me every day,” Caleb urged, as they walked down to the courtyard. Two horses awaited them, their bridles held by a pair of youngsters from the stables. They took her rucksack and fixed it to the saddle, hanging down so she could sift through the bag while on the move. “I’ll be watching for your messages.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emily promised.

  Sergeant Miles stepped around the horse and nodded to her. “Mount up,” he ordered, glancing sharply at Caleb. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  “I’ll make it up later,” Caleb said. “Emily ...”

  “She’ll be back before you know it,” Sergeant Miles said. He sounded impatient, yet oddly distracted by some greater thought. “Emily, mount up.”

  Emily gave Caleb one last hug, then scrambled onto the horse’s back. The horse shivered underneath her, as if it was preparing to bolt. Emily sighed and took a firm grip of the reins, hoping they wouldn’t be riding for long. Sergeant Miles hadn’t been clear on how they were going to get there, but she doubted they would be riding the entire journey. It would take weeks, at best, to reach Tarsier.

  She glanced down at Caleb, then around the deserted courtyard. Caleb was the only one who had come to see her off, something that bothered her more than she cared to admit. Frieda would be in class, of course, while some of the other students were working to rebuild the school ...

  “Good luck,” Caleb said.

  Sergeant Miles snorted. “Open the gates,” he ordered, as he turned his horse. “It’s time to move.”

  Emily forced herself to relax as her horse cantered forward, following Sergeant Miles as he plunged through the gates and onto the road. She heard Caleb shout something after her, but his words were lost in the clatter of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones. The beast picked up speed as the cold struck them, a mocking reminder that there might be ice on the road. There would be charms on the horseshoes, she was sure, but she knew they weren’t perfect. Hitting a piece of ice might get her thrown.

  The trees closed in as they headed further and further away from Whitehall, tiny fragments of snow and ice dropping down around them. Emily lowered her head, silently praying that there were no branches waiting to knock her off the horse. She’d expected to head down to Dragon’s Den, but instead they were heading down a path she’d never used. She couldn’t help wondering where it led.

  It might have been charmed to remain hidden, she thought, as Sergeant Miles led her onwards. Or I might just never have noticed it before.

  She sensed flickers of magic around her as they headed onwards, a droll reminder of the Blighted Lands on the other side of the Craggy Mountains. The mountains themselves were covered in snow, their peaks hidden in dark clouds that were clearly moving northwards. She wondered, despite herself, if they were carrying contaminants from the Blighted Lands to the Allied Lands. She’d seen too much raw magic in the Blighted Lands to feel complacent about its effects.

  And no one knows how Shadye got his army over the mountains, she reminded herself. We never did find his tunnel.

  It was nearly an hour before Sergeant
Miles started to slow, Emily’s horse also slowing to a trot as they entered a clearing. Emily could sense strange magics flickering around the area, magics that felt oddly familiar. She looked around, spotting a small cabin half-hidden within the trees and a tiny pond, somehow unfrozen despite the cold. The horse gave it a wide berth, suggesting that something dangerous lurked within the waters. The absence of animal tracks tended to agree. None of the local creatures risked drinking the water.

  Sergeant Miles reined in his horse, then slipped neatly to the ground. “Tie the horses up and give them their food,” he ordered, as he turned towards the cabin. “And then join me.”

  Emily nodded as she clambered off the beast and dropped down. The horse gave her a contemptuous look, but didn’t try to run as she tied it to the nearest tree. Emily couldn’t help feeling that the beast knew she wasn’t a confident horsewoman, although it didn’t seem inclined to take advantage of her. But then, a horse trained at Whitehall would have been taught not to abandon its rider. They were a little more intelligent than the average horse.

  The magic field probably caused some mutations, she thought, as she secured the other horse and strode towards the cabin. Or some sorcerer started to experiment with beast magic.

  Her body felt stiff, but she could walk. The snow felt odd, crunching against her boots as if it was permanently on the verge of melting. She kept walking, using a basic charm to keep out the cold. The sense of familiarity surrounding the clearing grew stronger, nagging at her mind. Had she been here before? If she’d seen the clearing in the past ... it would be very different now, wouldn’t it? Had she fought the Manavore here? But she felt sure she was further from the castle than that.

  She walked through the door and looked around. The cabin was very basic, nothing more than a woodsman’s hut. An unmade bed, a tiny fireplace, no windows ... she winced as she realized there was no privy either. The occupant would have to go outside when they needed to use the toilet. A small stockpile of dried fruit and nuts hung in one corner. Sergeant Miles was digging through a cupboard, checking the supplies. The dark expression on his face suggested it wasn’t going well.