“Don’t shoot,” she shouted, as they hurried forward. “We’re friendly!”
“Lady Emily,” Yvonne called. “Come on in!”
She held the door open for Emily and the others, then slammed it closed. “What happened?”
“We don’t have much time,” Emily said. “We have to get to the mirror.”
Yvonne nodded, tersely. “You want us to come with you?”
Emily glanced at her, then looked around. “Where’s the magicians?”
“We found they draw the... things... here,” Yvonne said. She looked tired, sweat dripping down her face. “I put them in the insulated chambers...”
“Good thinking,” Emily said. It wouldn’t be very effective, in the long run, but... it would buy them a few more minutes. “We need more ammunition before we head to the mirror.”
Master Highland caught her arm as Yvonne hurried off to gather more ammunition. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to just let the thing go?”
“It’ll break free, sooner rather than later,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure how to cut the link and banish the Faerie, even if she hadn’t been sure that—without it—there was no way to reach the alternate timelines. “There’s nothing we can do to speed the process up.”
She frowned. She wasn’t sure that was true. She could use the wards, now she knew what she was doing, to shatter the mirror dimension. The Faerie was tied to the mirror dimension. Logically, shattering the mirror dimension would send it flying back to its own realm... but she wasn’t sure. And she wanted—she needed to recover her friends. She couldn’t condemn them to hell.
If Alt-Emily is me, Emily thought, surely she’d want her people back too.
She dismissed the thought as she reloaded the pistol. She’d always found it hard to make connections with others. It hadn’t been easy to befriend Alassa and Imaiqah, let alone Jade, Frieda, Cat and Caleb. If her counterpart had never managed to really make friends, or somehow lost the ability when she started experimenting with necromancy, she might not give a damn about Alt-Caleb and Alt-Frieda. Hell, she might want to keep the originals. They’d be a great deal more useful than people who were either on the verge of death or openly rebellious.
“We can hold out here for a few more hours,” Yvonne said. She indicated the forges, where her apprentices were hastily producing more bullets. “But we’re going to run out of gunpowder sooner or later.”
“See if you can transfigure stuff into gunpowder,” Emily suggested. The transformation wouldn’t last more than a few hours, at best, but it wouldn’t matter. “The bullets won’t be using magic to fly.”
“We can try.” Yvonne sounded doubtful. “You want me to send a couple of people with you?”
Emily shook her head. “It would be better if I went alone,” she said. “They’ll be watching for large groups...”
“I’m coming with you,” Jayson said, firmly. He took a rifle from one of the guards and crammed his pockets with bullets and gunpowder. “You can’t go alone.”
“I’ll come too,” Master Highland said. “I’m not staying here waiting to die.”
Emily opened her mouth to point out that he had a link to the wards—and that he might have to take over, if she died—and then closed it again. Neither would forgive her if she ordered them to stay behind, even if everyone knew she’d ordered them to stay behind. And besides... she shook her head, slowly. The Faerie was slowly breaking free. They didn’t have time to argue. She’d just have to hope for the best.
“I’m glad to have you, both of you,” she lied. She lifted her pistol. “Shall we go?”
“Good luck,” Yvonne said. “We’ll wait for you.”
Emily nodded. Either the Faerie would leave, in which case the school should return to normal, or it would tear reality itself apart as it tried to free itself. There was no point in Yvonne and her apprentices trying to escape. They were bottled up nicely, forced to wait for the Faerie to escape or destroy everything. She silently calculated how best to destroy the mirror dimension, if there was no other choice. She’d have to hope that was enough to free the Faerie.
“See you on the other side.” Emily looked at Jayson and Master Highland, then crafted another diversion. “Let’s go.”
The howling seemed to grow louder as they left the workshop and hurried up an empty corridor. It was empty, yet... she could feel things scratching at the edge of reality, trying to push their way into the human realm. There were other things, strange movements at the corner of her eye, movements that vanished whenever she turned her head to look at them. The darkness pressed around them like a living thing, bringing back memories of when Whitehall’s pocket dimensions had threatened to collapse. Heart’s Eye wasn’t a pocket dimension, but it didn’t seem to matter. The corridors twisted in directions she couldn’t comprehend.
Emily felt her heart skip a beat as they passed a set of intact mirrors. A handful of reflections looked back, all different. A queen, wearing robes; a scholar, a book under her arm; a naked slave, an iron collar around her neck. She heard Master Highland mutter an oath, deeply shocked. She wondered, grimly, what he’d seen in the mirror. An alternate version of himself? She didn’t dare ask.
“That isn’t me,” Jayson said, quietly. “That really isn’t me.”
“They’re possibilities,” Emily told him. She tried not to think about the final reflection of herself. Who had enslaved her? And why? “But they’re not you.”
“I hope not.” Jayson sounded horrified. “That really isn’t me.”
They found the stairwell and hurried upwards. The mirrors—the ones she’d seen the first time she explored the stairwell—were gone. She wondered if they’d all been Manavores... or something smaller, something that could fit through the mirrors. There could be hundreds of tiny monsters roaming the school. She gritted her teeth, telling herself the Manavores would vanish when the Faerie broke its bonds and escaped. They couldn’t survive in the physical world without a connection to their own realm.
They’re not individual creatures in their own right, Emily reminded herself, sharply. They’re aspects of a greater whole.
A body lay at the top of the stairs, so badly mangled that it was hard to tell if it had once been male or female. Emily felt her gorge rise, again, as she studied the corpse. It was wearing a basic servant’s outfit, but that meant nothing. The damage was so extensive that she couldn’t tell if the body had once had breasts or a penis... the outfit itself could have belonged to a maid or a manservant or... she shook her head, silently promising herself that she’d ensure the body had a proper burial, afterwards. It might be impossible to figure out who it had been, once upon a time...
“Emily,” Jayson said, quietly.
Emily looked up, just in time to see reality warp into an utterly alien shape. A Manavore materialized in front of them, claws and teeth sliding through the air as it moved. She pointed the pistol at it and pulled the trigger. The Manavore flickered, then blinked out. Two more appeared, seemingly untroubled by their comrade’s death. Jayson shot them both...
“Run,” Emily snapped.
She threw a ball of magic behind her, hoping it would distract the Manavores long enough for them to escape. Instead, the Manavores kept coming. She didn’t have to look behind her to know they were there. Their mere presence felt like someone breathing down the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel them snapping at her heels, tendrils of something crawling around her feet. She pointed the gun behind her and fired, trying to use her senses to aim. There was a tiny pause, so brief she knew she could have only imagined it, before the Manavores resumed the chase. She told herself to keep moving...
Reality twisted. The Manavores were suddenly in front of them. Emily shot them both, then led the charge through the space where they’d been. There was a howl—reality itself seemed to tremble, again—before she sensed more of the creatures behind. They were coming... she ran through a door, waited for the others to pass, then slammed the door c
losed and warded it. It wouldn’t last long, but it might...
The walls turned translucent. She could feel it. She knew, without looking, that the Manavores were coming through the walls. She was suddenly very tired, barely able to keep herself upright. The pistol was so heavy she couldn’t lift it. She sensed, more than saw, the creatures as they forced their way through the walls, but... she couldn’t shoot them. She wanted to drop to the floor, to collapse. It meant certain death, yet... she couldn’t resist the urge to just give up. They couldn’t win.
She stumbled back, somehow, pressing herself against the stone wall—the solid stone wall—as the Manavores closed in. She couldn’t lift the pistol, she couldn’t fight... she knew, with a stark certainty that admitted of no contradiction, that she was dead. There was no escape. Her magic wouldn’t save her, not now. Even trying would only hasten her doom.
Master Highland threw a hex at the nearest Manavore. The creatures spun around to face him, claws and teeth extended. “Run,” he shouted. The shock broke the spell. Emily found she could move again. “Run, you...”
Emily glanced at Jayson, then turned, grabbed his hand and ran.
Behind her, she heard a scream.
Chapter Thirty-Six
EMILY DREW ON THE WARDS, RECKLESSLY, as she practically jumped across the runes and threw herself into the mirror chamber. Her body felt strange, energetic in some ways, but lethargic in others. Jayson followed; behind them, the howling grew louder as the Manavores—balked by the wards—slammed themselves against an invisible barrier. Emily smiled, tiredly, as she saw Cirroc, Hoban and the Gorgon standing next to Alt-Frieda. Alt-Caleb sat on the floor, his face so pale that Emily knew he was on the verge of death.
“Emily,” Cirroc said. “I...”
“We have to hurry,” Emily said, cutting him off. She would tell him his master was dead later. They would have a great deal more to mourn if they failed. “We don’t have much time.”
She babbled an explanation as she faced the mirror, trying to trace the thread leading to the alternate timeline. The right alternate timeline, this time. Cirroc and Hoban had done a great deal of work, making sure they found the right universe. Jayson checked their work as Emily motioned for the Gorgon to follow her into a corner. She was aware of their eyes on her, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have time to care.
“If I don’t come back, you’ll need this.” Emily tore a strip off her bloodstained shirt and held it out to the Gorgon. “Link yourself to the wards, shatter the mirror dimension and then... do whatever you want.”
The Gorgon blinked. “Are you coming back?”
“I hope so.” Emily knew she might not have time to come back. “If I don’t, you have the key to the school. Use it.”
“Thanks.” The Gorgon looked worried. Emily understood. There were people who’d be horrified at a gorgon controlling the nexus point. But... it wasn’t as if they could do much about it. Master Highland was dead, Caleb was missing, Jayson didn’t have complete access to the wards. “I... Emily, be careful.”
“I will.” Emily gave her a quick hug. “And you be careful too.”
Jayson caught her attention. “I think we have a link,” he said. “Blood calls to blood.”
“Yeah.” Emily nodded to Alt-Frieda. “One moment.”
She met Alt-Frieda’s eyes. “I don’t think we need to swap you for your counterpart,” she said, slowly. She thought that was true, from what she’d seen when she’d looked at the tangled mess of timelines from above. “You can stay...”
“I have to go back,” Alt-Frieda said. Her face was grimly determined. “Give me the spell.”
Emily sucked in her breath. “Very well,” she said, reluctantly. The others might ask, later, what spell she’d meant. “Listen carefully.”
She cast a privacy spell, then explained precisely how the nuke-spell worked. Alt-Frieda’s eyes went very wide as the implications dawned on her. The nuke-spell was a little more complicated than necromancy, but not that much more. A young magician, barely out of her first year of schooling, could cast the spell. Emily shuddered, wondering—for the first time—if she was doing the right thing by opening a university. Someone might figure out that atoms existed, then how to split them... and then the entire world would be plunged into fire. But it was already too late. She’d given them too much before the implications dawned on her.
You cannot stuff the mushroom cloud back in the metal container, Emily thought. Even if she wanted to, she doubted it was possible to stop people from thinking. And you can’t turn back the clock.
Alt-Frieda swallowed. “I’m ready.”
Emily took a breath, then walked up to the mirror. Her reflection gazed back at her, flickering through a hundred—a thousand—different versions of herself. Emily tried not to think too much about them, even the ones that looked happy. Who knew why she was happy? She turned and checked the others, making sure they were tied to the walls. They wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“I should be coming with you,” Hoban said. He looked determined, yet torn between his heart and his duty. “She’ll expect it...”
“No.” Emily shook her head, firmly. She needed him guarding the mirror. “The fewer, the better.”
She took Alt-Frieda’s hand—the girl flinched, then steadied herself—and pressed her other hand against the mirror. She could feel the mirror dimension shaking as the mirror opened, allowing her to step into the silvery realm; she could feel the mirrors fracturing, as if it was only a matter of time before they shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. A storm battered her thoughts as the silver light grew brighter, forcing her to screw her eyes closed; she felt something strange under her feet, then solid ground. She opened her eyes, again. She was in the alternate dimension.
“She knows we’re here.” Alt-Frieda’s voice was very quiet, as if she barely dared to whisper. “I can feel her.”
Emily nodded, slowly, as she reached out with her mind. She could sense the nexus point—in a sense, it was her nexus point—and, beyond it, the wards pervading the school. They were different—she wondered, suddenly, if her counterpart had ever gone to the past—but they were hers. She suspected the wards wouldn’t notice her, unless they were configured to notice that Emily was now in two places at once. It was hard to believe she and her counterpart were the same person, or had been the same person, but they were. She just didn’t want to accept it.
She looked around the mirror chamber, noting the differences. There was no bed, no washroom... the walls were lined with shelves, each crammed with books. She felt a twinge of unease as she glanced at the titles, noting how many were rare, almost impossible to find. It was the kind of room she would have created for herself, a bedroom that was practically a library, with the bed added as an afterthought. But there was no bed... she shuddered, forcing herself to accept that she and her counterpart really were the same person.
But not completely, she thought, as she reached out still further. The wards ignored her, but... they were nasty. Powerful hexes glinted in the air, ready to strike down anyone who defied Alt-Emily. Others... she shuddered, tasting hints of her counterpart’s madness in her paranoia. Compulsion spells linked to truth spells... even mind-reading spells. Alt-Emily seemed determined to ensure that no one could enter her fortress without being detected and stopped. What the hell was she thinking?
“We have to move,” Alt-Frieda said. “She’ll be coming.”
“Yeah.” Emily took a breath. “Let’s go.”
She touched the wards gingerly as they headed to the door, telling the wards to ignore them. It was hard to tell if she’d succeeded. Logically, she could have given the wards orders; practically, there was no way to know what precautions Alt-Emily would have taken against her counterpart trying to take over. Emily knew what she would have done if she’d known she was facing an enemy who wore her face—she would have asked someone else to set the wards and choose the passwords—but would her counterpart have trusted anyone t
hat far? It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Emily would have trusted Caleb and Frieda to handle it, but... they’d been the first to be swapped for their counterparts.
The door opened when she touched the handle. Cat stood outside... no, Alt-Cat. His face twisted when he saw them, a horrible mixture of shock, lust, fear and awe. Emily could practically feel it as she stunned him, hexing him so hard he was picked off his feet and thrown into a wall. His wards crumpled like paper. She blinked in surprise—her Cat would never have been taken down so easily—before realizing that he’d given her permission to push magic through his wards. No, Alt-Emily had forced him to give her permission. There could be no other explanation. Emily couldn’t imagine Cat—or anyone—willingly giving such permission to anyone.
“Dear God,” she whispered. Alt-Cat looked... like a twisted monstrous shadow of the person she knew. Even stunned, he leered. “What did she do to him?”
“He’s one of her enforcers,” Alt-Frieda told her. “He lives to please her.”
“I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She cast a spell to make sure Alt-Cat would remain asleep, then led the way down the corridor. “We have to hurry.”
Her mind raced as she reached out gingerly, looking for Caleb and Frieda. They appeared to be held in the dorms... precisely where she’d put Alt-Caleb and Alt-Frieda. She supposed that shouldn’t have been a surprise, although she did wonder why her counterpart hadn’t bothered to create a jail. Perhaps she hadn’t thought she needed one. She could kill or transfigure anyone who got in her way. A pair of maids appeared at the end of the corridor, slave collars clearly visible around their necks. They prostrated themselves as soon as they saw her, pressing their faces into the ground. Emily wanted to remove the collars, to let the maids run free, but she couldn’t. They weren’t ordinary collars. The spells keeping the maids under control were so elaborate, it would take hours to free them.
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 34
