Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks

by Christopher Nuttall

  The School of Hard Knocks

  (Schooled in Magic V)

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Twilight Times Books

  Kingsport Tennessee

  The School of Hard Knocks

  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 © 2015 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, January 2015

  Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of 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

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Appendix - On Wands

  Prologue

  THE COUNCIL CHAMBER WAS TWO MILES below the desolate wastelands surrounding Mountaintop, hidden from prying eyes and accessible only through the most powerful magics. Generations of Councillors, even in the glory days of the Empire, had layered spells over the chamber, ensuring that no one could enter save with the permission of one of their fellows. It was the most secure location in the world. And the only way to access it was to walk through a series of caves that were hellishly dangerous to the unwary.

  Aurelius, Administrator of Mountaintop, stepped into the chamber and looked around, his gaze passing over the fourteen men and women who made up the Star Council. Collectively, they were the most powerful group of magicians in the world, certainly in political terms. A Necromancer or a Lone Power might have access to more raw magic, but the former would lack the skill and the latter the inclination to turn it into political power. And even the greatest Lone Power could not stand against the united Council.

  He took his seat at the stone table, etched with runes to discourage hostility and looked up at the map drawn on the back wall. A good third of the continent was shaded black, representing territories dominated by Necromancers and lost to the Allied Lands. The remainder were divided into political and magical sections, the kingdoms ruled by monarchs and the cities ruled by local councils and the Great Houses. It was a chilling reminder, he knew, that the Necromancers were slowly winning the war. The average peasant in the fields, even the monarchs on their thrones, could forget, but magicians never could. If the Necromancers had banded together, the war would have been lost long ago.

  Or they had been losing, he reminded himself. Two years ago, something had changed. A new factor had entered the war. And two Necromancers had died at the hands of a single magician. Despite himself, despite the clawing fear that had gnawed at his heart since he’d been brought into the Council, Aurelius had taken heart. The opportunity in front of them could not be ignored any longer.

  * * *

  “The MageMaster is dying,” he said, without preamble. “He has turned most of his official duties over to me.”

  “But not the oaths,” Cloak observed. His tone was lightly mocking. “You’re practically a free agent.”

  Aurelius kept his face impassive with the ease of long practice. The Councillors were supposed to keep their identities secret, but few secrets lasted long when powerful sorcerers were probing, searching for answers. He knew the identities of thirteen of the fourteen other Councillors–Masters of Great Houses, Guild Leaders–yet it galled him that he had never been able to uncover Cloak’s true identity. Someone so powerful–and power was a given for anyone capable of reaching the chamber–should not be able to remain unidentified.

  And yet Cloak was anonymous.

  Even his appearance was bland, an illusion of mundane normality that hid his true features under a glamor. It was rude, Aurelius knew, to attempt to see through the disguise, yet he had tried, more than once. And he had always failed. Cloak was very practiced at keeping his identity to himself. He’d been on the Council for over seventy years, longer than all but three of his fellows, yet none of them knew his name.

  If I had been on the Council when you joined, Aurelius thought darkly, I would have demanded to know your name. Or at least what you want to be called.

  He looked at the others, putting Cloak out of his mind. “We have an opportunity to bring the Child of Destiny to Mountaintop,” he said. “She would be under our tutelage.”

  “It would be risky,” Master Ashworth commented. “Particularly after the events of last year.”

  “But necessary,” Master Ashfall snapped. “The Lady Emily is the greatest force for change–for hope–that we have seen since the Fall of the Empire. We need to shape her, to steer her towards our thinking, particularly now that she is a Baroness of Zangaria. Mundane power must not be allowed to go to her head.”

  “Power has gone to yours,” Master Ashworth said. “Do you not understand the dangers of provoking a confrontation with Whitehall–or Void?”

  Aurelius smiled as the two magicians bickered. No one quite knew why House Ashworth had fragmented, allowing some of their number to form House Ashfall, but the two Great Houses had been at daggers drawn ever since. Cooler heads had not been able to dampen the hatred that flared whenever the two families met. Indeed, House Ashworth sent its children to Whitehall while House Ashfall sent its children to Mountaintop, just to prevent them from continuing the feud in supposedly neutral territory. And what one Master supported, the other opposed on principle.

  He cleared his throat, catching their attention. “We would not threaten her life,” he said. “To threaten her in that manner would trifle with destiny itself.”

  Cloak snorted. “And do you believe in destiny?”

  “I do not disbelieve,” Aurelius said, coolly. “The Lady Emily has killed two Necromancers in single combat. She has turned the Kingdom of Zangaria on its head. The changes caused by her mere presence have rippled out, producing unintended consequences and side effects. But what else does a Child of Destiny do?”

  “They upset the balance of power,” Master Zane said. The ancient magician leaned forward, one hand resting on the table. U
nlike the others, he wore no glamor, only his lined and wizened face. “We should kill her now.”

  Master Ashworth slammed one hand against the table. “Are you mad?”

  “There are risks in keeping her alive,” Master Ashfall noted, smoothly.

  “She’s an inexperienced child,” Cloak said. “She can be manipulated.”

  “A child who has killed two necromancers,” Master Ashfall said. “Trying to keep her prisoner might prove disastrous. Is it really worth the risk?”

  Aurelius pointed to the map. “Two years ago, we knew we were losing the war,” he said, flatly. “And then the Necromancer Shadye died at Whitehall.”

  He knew they understood. They might have their differences with the Grandmaster of Whitehall–and his faction in the White City–but they knew that Whitehall should have been able to remain secure indefinitely. And then Shadye had burst into the school, smashing that old certainty beyond repair. If he hadn’t been killed shortly afterwards, Aurelius knew, the gateway to the Allied Lands would have lain open and Shadye’s army of monsters would have laid the land waste.

  “A Child of Destiny must tip the balance against the Necromancers,” he said, quietly. It would not help to show his desperation so openly. “She would not need to exist if Destiny intended them to win.”

  “True,” Master Toadstool agreed.

  “But what does it profit us,” Master Zane asked, “if she destroys our stability too?”

  “Then we teach her how we think,” Aurelius snapped. “And why we have to be the way we are.”

  “A seduction,” Cloak observed. His voice sparkled with amusement. “Or are you planning a conquest?”

  “No,” Master Ashworth snapped. Magic crackled around his eyes, shimmers of power that tingled through the room before slowly fading into the wards. “My granddaughter is the same age. I will not have that tradition resurrected, not now.”

  Aurelius nodded. “I do not believe that would end well,” he said, lightly. “We merely wish to show her how we live, not push her into a stand against us. We will not hold her for long against her will. If worst comes to worst, we will graciously allow her to leave, armed with knowledge she can use against the Necromancers.”

  “You assume she will remain focused on them,” Master Zane observed. “But as a Baroness of Zangaria she would have more... mundane interests.”

  “My spy reported that she has little interest in her new responsibilities,” Aurelius said. “We may well be able to convince her to abandon them.”

  “Which would cause problems in Zangaria,” Master Ashworth said.

  “Which would be none of our concern,” Master Ashfall countered. “I believe the Compact is still in force, is it not?”

  “For the nonce,” Aurelius said.

  “But we are talking about breaking it,” Master Zane pointed out. “If we succeed she will join us, thus forsaking Zangaria.”

  “That is why we have to act now,” Aurelius said. “Before she becomes too involved with mundane interests.”

  He looked around the chamber. “It is time to vote,” he said. They had debated the plan endlessly, ever since Shadye’s death. But it hadn’t been until the MageMaster weakened badly enough to pass most of his duties to Aurelius–and access to the wards running through Mountaintop–that it had become practical. “Do we vote aye or nay?”

  Cloak’s illusion never wavered, but there was a definite hint of amusement in his tone. “I believe we are forgetting one tiny detail,” he said. “A Lone Power. How... careless a thing to forget.”

  “Void... will have other issues to keep his attention,” Aurelius said, stiffly. “But I do not believe he would object, provided she was not harmed. And she will not be harmed. Merely... re-educated.”

  One by one, they voted.

  Aurelius smiled as the votes were tallied. All of them, even Masters Ashworth and Ashfall, had voted in favor, some more enthusiastically than others. Some probably had plans to draw advantages from the whole scheme, others because they intended to use it as leverage in later negotiations, but in the end it didn’t matter why they’d agreed. He knew, even if they didn’t, that it didn’t really matter why they’d voted in favor.

  All that mattered was that they had.

  Chapter One

  EMILY GLANCED BOTH WAYS UP AND down the corridor, then knelt in front of the heavy stone door and reached out with her mind. There was no physical lock holding it shut, merely an incredibly complex spell woven together from literally hundreds of spell components. It would pose no barrier to the person who had set the spell, but anyone else would find themselves either unable to enter or be forced to unpick the spell piece by piece, just to gain entry. The spell was so well-crafted that it was already reacting to her intrusion.

  She felt a moment of admiration for the professor who had created the spell–she had hardly any time to study it to determine how best to proceed–then plunged her mind into the spell, trying to sniff out its weak spot and destroy it. A spell so complex would have no shortage of components that could be removed, weakening the spell; she pushed her mind forward, feeling magic crackle around her as the spell continued to react. To stop now would leave her exposed to the spell–and whatever it was designed to do to unwanted intruders.

  It felt like hours before she saw the knots of spell components holding the whole network together, but she knew it was no more than a few seconds. Time always seemed to slow down when she thrust her mind into a web of magic. Summoning a dispersal spell, she pushed it at the spell component and watched it evaporate into nothingness. The magic chasing her seemed to fade at the exact same moment. Emily felt a flicker of triumph, which faded as she realized the remainder of the network of spells wasn’t collapsing. Instead, it was reconfiguring itself...

  Horror flashed through her mind as she recalled the Mimic, then she realized–too late–what she was seeing. The professor had been clever, very clever. His spell had been designed to collapse into another pattern when someone removed the vital component. The magic powering the spell hadn’t evaporated; it had merely fallen into another spell and charged the new pattern instead. And there was no time left to deal with the new configuration. Magic flared around her...

  ...And she found herself back in her body, utterly unable to move.

  Damn, she thought.

  It had been Lady Barb’s idea to have Emily test her skills against the defenses various professors mounted on their doors. Trying to break into professorial offices was an old tradition at Whitehall, after all. Emily had cracked three doors in the last two days, but they’d belonged to professors known to be weak in magic or magical skill. Professor Lombardi was neither.

  She gathered her magic and tried to break the spell holding her firmly in place, but it refused to budge. It was difficult to tell if the spell was simply resistant to the magic she was using or if there was something about it that broke up and absorbed the spellwork before she could even trigger it. The professor’s defenses were clearly far more complex than the simple freeze spells students practiced on one another in First Year.

  “Well,” a voice said. “What do we have here?”

  Emily had to wait until Professor Lombardi stepped into her field of vision before she saw him. He was a short man with lightly-tanned skin, wearing–instead of the robes of professors and students–a leather jacket and trousers that seemed to catch and reflect the light in odd ways. The scars on his hands, a reminder of failed experiments, seemed to look worse every year. And he looked far from happy.

  “Emily,” Professor Lombardi said. “You do realize that trying to break into the office of a Charms Master could be very dangerous?”

  Yes, Emily thought. It was a point of law in the Allied Lands that magicians could do anything they wanted to anyone who tried to break into their homes. A magician’s home was his kingdom and he could defend it however he saw fit. The Grandmaster wouldn’t allow his professors to use anything lethal to defend their offices, but anyone caught in
the act of trying to break in could expect harsh punishment at the very least.

  “Let us see now,” Professor Lombardi said. He inspected the door, then turned to meet her frozen eyes. “You got past the first level, but the second caught you. I’d expect better from a student with more advanced tutoring in charms.”

  He paused. “Of course, the third or fourth levels were primed with nastier defensive spells,” he added. “The third level would have turned you into a slug, while the fourth level would have knocked you out and kept you out. And you really don’t want to know what the fifth level would have done. Now... punishment.”

  Emily cringed, mentally, as Professor Lombardi assumed a contemplative pose. He wasn’t an easy-going professor, not by any definition of the term. Emily had seen enough accidents, even in a carefully-supervised classroom, to find it hard to blame him. A moment’s carelessness could inflict permanent damage on an idiotic student. At the very least, she could look forward to a short uncomfortable session with the Warden.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,” Lady Barb’s voice said. She sounded to be coming down the corridor, but Emily couldn’t turn her head to see. “Emily was acting on my instructions.”

  Professor Lombardi’s face darkened. “And do the two of you have an excuse for setting a student loose on my wards?”

  Emily felt a flicker of surprise. Two of them?

  “Yes,” Lady Barb said. “It’s called practice.”

  Emily heard her fingers snapping. A second later, the spell holding Emily in place shattered, releasing her from its grip. She staggered and would have fallen to the ground if Professor Lombardi hadn’t held out a hand and caught her. Her heartbeat was suddenly very loud in her ears, as if all involuntary functions had come to a halt while she’d been held by the spell. Or perhaps there was some function included in the spellwork that had kept her calm, despite being helplessly trapped. She knew she couldn’t ask the professor until he was in a better mood.