11- The Sergeant's Apprentice

by Christopher Nuttall

  “You’re miles away,” Gaius said. “What are you thinking?”

  “My boyfriend,” Emily lied. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

  “They’ll be setting up a portal now,” Gaius said. “You can nip back and see him when that’s done.”

  Emily smiled as she turned back to look at Sergeant Miles. He was still talking to Sir Roger and a couple of his men. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes — he’d had plenty of time to talk to Sir Roger before they’d marched to the city — and told herself firmly to wait. A few minutes of doing nothing wouldn’t hurt. Gaius might even consider it a blessing ...

  She gasped in pain as she felt a sudden stab of fire between her breasts. The rune on her chest was burning. She looked up, glancing around in shock. Subtle magic. Someone was using subtle magic. But who? If someone had cast runes all around the firing range, she would have felt them the moment she’d stepped into the magic. Instead ...

  Gaius frowned. “Emily,” he said. “What ...”

  Emily held up a hand, reaching out with her senses as she glanced from side to side. Subtle magic ... subtle magic to do what? The pain made it hard to trace out the ebb and flow of magic, a mixed blessing at best. She thought it was a very low level of magic, but that was what made it dangerous. Someone was moving ... she shaped a spell, then cast it towards the center of the magic. A man appeared from nowhere and fell to the ground.

  “Gods,” Gaius said, shocked.

  Emily turned and ran towards the man. He was dressed in civilian clothes ... he looked like a common laborer, rather than a refugee. His eyes went wide as he saw her ...

  A flash of light flickered past her and struck him. He grunted, then fell back dead. Emily spun around to see Gaius running towards her. She found her voice as he knelt down beside the man, muttering under his breath.

  “I had him,” she protested. There was no way they could interrogate the man now. “You didn’t have to kill him!”

  “I did,” Gaius said. He held up a knife. Even from a meter away, she could sense the magic surrounding it. The wicked-looking runes carved into the blade were evil. “He’d have buried this in you if I hadn’t killed him.”

  Emily gritted her teeth. The knife ... how had she missed the knife? But Gaius was right. If the spy — or assassin — had managed to stab her with a charmed blade, it would almost certainly have killed her.

  “Good work,” Sergeant Miles said, briskly. He knelt down beside the body and started to search it. “Who is he and ...?”

  His voice trailed off. “Look at this.”

  Emily stared, then swore. He was holding a piece of charmed parchment in his hand.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “A CHAT PARCHMENT,” GENERAL POLLACK SAID.

  “It looks that way,” Sergeant Miles agreed. “Emily?”

  Emily nodded. Aloha had designed the first chat parchments two years ago, but the spells she’d used to create them — including a couple of borderline blood magics — hadn’t remained secret for long. Her fellow students had been creating their own, then selling them long before Emily had walked into the duelling ring with Master Grey. By now, the secret would be all over the Allied Lands.

  “The charms are fading, now the user is dead,” she said. “But it was a chat parchment.”

  General Pollack looked down at the parchment in his hand. “As I understand it, these parchments are always twinned,” he said. “Who has the other piece?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. There could easily be two or more missing pieces too. “Now the bearer is dead. Tracing the owner of the other piece is impossible.”

  “That can’t be true,” Casper said. “Every spell can be countered.”

  “The parchment was tied to a single person,” Emily reminded him. “No one else could even read the parchment.”

  Sergeant Miles cleared his throat. “The Patrician and his men are already making enquiries into our dead friend’s history,” he said. “They may uncover something useful. However ... I trust you all understand the implications?”

  “Rats,” Lord Alcott said. “Rats within the walls.”

  “Spies,” General Pollack said. “And ones with a way to send messages out of the city.”

  He looked at Emily. “How did you know he was there?”

  Emily hesitated. “I sensed him,” she said, finally. She didn’t want to go into details. Only a handful of people knew she had a rune on her chest. She didn’t think any of her unwanted roommates had caught a glimpse of it. “He ... was just there.”

  “And what,” General Pollack asked thoughtfully, “did he want?”

  “I think he wanted to assassinate Emily,” Gaius said. He glanced sideways at Emily. “He came far too close, if all he’d wanted to do was spy on us. That knife was a lethal weapon.”

  “In more ways than one,” Sergeant Miles said. “If he’d stabbed her, the curse on the blade would have drained his life force to power the kill.”

  Emily swallowed, hard. Gaius was probably right. “Did he know the blade would kill him?”

  “Probably not,” Master Grave said. He picked up the blade and turned it over and over in his hand. “Dead men tell no tales.”

  He glanced at General Pollack. “This is a necromantic weapon,” he added. “There’s only one place it could have come from.”

  Any fool could have charmed the blade, Emily thought. But most magicians aren’t stupid enough to try.

  “And he tried to assassinate the Necromancer’s Bane,” Gaius said. “It was a very close call.”

  “Yeah,” Sawford said. “Gaius, Emily owes you her life.”

  “I could have stopped him,” Emily pointed out. “And if I had, he might have been able to answer questions.”

  “I doubt it,” Gaius said. “The necromancer would have made sure he couldn’t answer any questions before letting him go.”

  “And he will probably know the attack failed,” General Pollack mused. “And that means he will probably launch his offensive in the next few days.”

  Turning this place into a city-sized trap, Emily thought. The necromancer might be scared of her — she wanted to believe he was scared of her — but he still needed to feed his giant army. Farrakhan was the single greatest source of supplies for miles around. And he will be able to cut us off if he moves before we set up a portal.

  Master Bone cleared his throat. “There’s nothing special about the body,” he said. “I’d guess a civilian, more likely a merchant than a laborer. A handful of coins in his pocket, all old-style, minted right across the Allied Lands. No hint of magic or exposure to magic — he certainly wasn’t carrying any magical tools, save for the knife.”

  “That’s bad enough,” Master Storm pointed out.

  “The clothing suggests a merchant, as it is of better quality than the average citizen’s clothes,” Master Bone continued. “However, there are no obvious clues as to its origins. I looked for a mark-sign and saw nothing.”

  “The money might suggest a spy,” Master Grave mused. “If it didn’t come from here.”

  “That’s not enough to prove anything,” Master Bone said. “A merchant would have coins from all over the world.”

  He’s like a detective, Emily thought. Sherlock Bones.

  She concealed her amusement. No one else would understand the joke.

  “So we keep working,” Sergeant Miles said. “We have already started training the refugees to fight.”

  Emily winced. Teaching swordsmanship — even the very basic training given to military conscripts — took time. She doubted that any of them would master the art before it was too late. They’d be sent into battle utterly unprepared for the nightmare in front of them. And yet, there was no other choice. The war was one of utter annihilation. Better to give them a fighting chance, no matter how slim, than let them be captured, sacrificed, and eaten.

  “And we prep the apprentices for battle,” Master Storm added. He sh
ot Gaius an approving look. “They have already proved themselves.”

  “Good,” General Pollack said. He glanced around the table. “I want you all to be very careful. If there’s one spy in the city, there will be more. These ... chat parchments change the rules. And if you happen to find a spy, capture him alive.”

  Or her, Emily thought. Women made ideal spies in the Nameless World. Even men who should know better tended to think of them as little more than ornamentation. And servants ... as far as most of their betters were concerned, servants just ... weren’t there. She dreaded to think just how many secrets had been spilled because the secret-keepers hadn’t taken the servants into account. And magic could turn anyone into a spy.

  “Of course, General,” Lord Fulbright said.

  “Very good,” General Pollack said. “Is there any other business?”

  “Yes, father,” Casper said. “Lady Emily has accepted my challenge.”

  Crap, Emily thought. She’d wanted to tell Sergeant Miles in private, first.

  A dizzying series of emotions flashed across General Pollack’s face, too fast for Emily to recognize them. Sergeant Miles gave her a sharp look, while Master Grave merely lifted one eyebrow and waited. She was dimly aware of Gaius and Sawford shuffling uncomfortably behind her ...

  General Pollack found his voice. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” Emily said, flatly. “A level-one duel.”

  Her prospective father-in-law stared at her for a long, chilling moment. Emily met his eyes evenly, refusing to take a step back. It was hard to read the general’s feelings, but she thought she saw a mixture of worry and pride. General Pollack had his flaws, yet he genuinely loved his children. Even a level-one duel, one fought out until one combatant could no longer continue, could end with someone being seriously hurt.

  “Very well,” he said, finally. He glanced at Master Storm. “You’ll prepare the dueling ring?”

  “As you please,” Master Storm said. He frowned at Emily, then at Sergeant Miles. “When do you intend to hold this ... this duel?”

  “Shouldn’t it wait until after the war?” Gaius asked. “Casper is going to be needed on the walls.”

  Casper opened his mouth, probably to spit out a nasty retort, but Master Storm spoke first.

  “This is regrettable,” he said, “but it would be better to get it over with.”

  General Pollack looked as though he disagreed. “If this is what you two children want, then it is what you shall have,” he said, darkly. “We’ll hold the duel as quickly as possible.”

  Emily eyed him, uncomfortably aware of Sergeant Miles giving her a nasty look. What was the general doing? Did he think Casper would win? Or did he think that Emily would teach him a lesson? Or ... it was impossible to guess. Just watching the general play politics with the senior officers and nobility was bad enough. Wheels within wheels, worlds within worlds ... was General Pollack ruthless enough to play games with his own children?

  Of course he is, Emily thought.

  “Wait in the antechamber, both of you,” Sergeant Miles ordered, sternly. “You’ll be summoned when the time comes.”

  Emily nodded and left the room, silently relieved to be away from the other apprentices and their masters. Sergeant Miles was furious. His voice had been tightly controlled, but she knew him well enough to sense the anger under his placid surface. And Master Grave ... who knew what he thought? Did he expect Casper to win — or die?

  Casper said nothing as they waited, each second feeling like an hour. Emily tried to come up with a plan, but knew it was futile. Too much could happen too quickly in a duel. She was better off trying to play it by ear, rather than walking in with a plan. Magic crackled under her fingertips, reminding her of the power at her disposal. But trying not to hurt him would be a problem in itself.

  He’ll have the same problem, she thought, morbidly. But he won’t be trying to lose convincingly.

  Sergeant Miles returned for them, an hour later. His expression promised big trouble for her later. Emily did her best to ignore it, knowing that the die had been cast. Casper looked grimly determined as he walked past her and down to the barracks. Someone had pushed the beds out of the way, then drawn a circle on the ground and surrounded it with protective runes. It wasn’t anything like as strong as the one she’d used before, but it should hold long enough.

  The other apprentices were bunched together, exchanging bets. Emily wondered who’d bet on her and who’d bet on Casper, then pushed the unpleasant thought aside as she stepped into the ring. The wards shimmered around her, reminding her that she wouldn’t be able to leave until they were lowered. She walked to the other side of the ring, bracing herself as she turned to face Casper. Master Grave sealed the ring a moment later, raw magic sliding into position around them. There were no seconds, not this time. Only the two of them ...

  “Go,” Master Storm ordered.

  Emily raised her protective wards as Casper launched a series of fireballs towards her, testing her defenses. None of them could hope to break through on their own, but collectively they’d weaken her. Emily threw back a couple of fireballs of her own, followed by a series of modified prank spells. She’d surprised Frieda and a couple of her friends with them, but Casper dodged or deflected them effortlessly. But then, he had a great deal more experience.

  He raised a hand, then cast a spell she didn’t recognize. Her wards rang like a bell, the force of the impact pushing her back. She gritted her teeth, then forced herself forward, her magic flowing as he darted at her. Their magic fields collided, slamming into each other on multiple levels ... his magic clawed at hers, trying to rip her spellware apart. It was an odd technique, one she hadn’t encountered before, but surprisingly effective.

  She pushed her magic out, slapping him back against the circle. Casper grunted in pain, then threw a bolt of jagged lightning at her. Emily’s eyes widened in alarm — there was a lot of power there — and she jumped aside. Her wards had already been weakened. That spell might have cracked them completely. The lightning hit the circle and flashed out of existence, flickers of raw magic darting in all directions. Emily focused her magic, then shoved a wave of fire at him, followed by a ward-breaking spell. Casper jumped right across the ring — he must have used magic — and threw an odd spell back at her. Emily had barely a second to let go of the fire before it slammed into her wards and sent her flying across the ring. She crashed into the wards and tumbled to the ground.

  That’s what you get for showing off, she told herself, savagely. She considered, very briefly, just pretending to be knocked out, but the watchers had probably already seen her move. And they wouldn’t be fooled if she lay still long enough for him to land on her. Do that in a real fight and you’ll wind up dead.

  She rolled over and cast another series of spells, aiming a stun bolt at his chest. Casper caught it on his wards as he ran forward, pushing them out to serve as a shield. Emily allowed herself a moment to be impressed — he was using his magic like a power ring — and then tossed a tripping jinx at him. Casper plummeted forward, catching himself a second before his head slammed into the ground. Emily used the seconds she’d earned to flip herself up and dart back until she was pressed against the edge of the wards. Casper was already back on his feet.

  Clever technique, part of her mind noted. But very wasteful.

  Casper grinned at her from behind his wards. Sweat dripped down his face, but he looked happy. It occurred to Emily that he’d lasted ... how long? And she hadn’t thrown the fight, not yet. He had something to be proud of, even if it was just holding his own against her. But someone like Gaius would probably remind him that Emily was a fifth-year student, even if she was also the Necromancer’s Bane ...

  He looks like Caleb, she thought, suddenly. Caleb had been happy too, after they’d slept together for the first time. And ...

  Casper launched a spell at her, striking her wards. There wasn’t much power to it, somewhat to her surprise. He was testing her ...
she briefly considered a feint, then put the idea aside and shot a jinx into his wards. His face darkened as she hit him again and again, then struck his wards with another ward-eater. He’d either have to shut down his wards or risk seeing them shatter into nothingness ...

  He took a third option, leaping forward and crashing his wards into hers. The ward-eater spell spread in all directions, chewing Emily’s wards with the same appetite it had shown for Casper’s. Emily cursed under her breath as her wards started to disintegrate. She’d designed them to be complex, just to make life difficult for anyone who wanted to take them down, but the ward-eater was hers. Her protections couldn’t tell the difference between the spells she threw at him and one of her own that had turned on her. Hell, it would take her protections down quicker than his!

  Damn him, she thought. That had been good thinking. And if I ...

  If she did the timing right, she’d give him the perfect opportunity to win ... if he saw the window before it closed. And if she got it wrong ... hastily, she started to push her wards away from her body. It was the standard countermeasure to a ward-eater, but it wouldn’t be effective — it shouldn’t be effective — against a ward-eater she’d cast. Her wards fragmented, crashing into his, both pieces of spellware coming apart at the seams. Just for a second, she would be nearly defenseless.

  Casper lunged forward, pushing himself through the storm of magic. His protections started to fragment too — the only thing keeping them together was sheer willpower — but they held long enough for him to break through. He swung his fist ... Emily had just a second to realize what he’d done before his fist crashed into her jaw. She stumbled backwards, tasting blood in her mouth; she tripped and fell, her bottom landing hard on the floor. The pain shocked her, making it hard to concentrate. Casper was on her before she could reasonably muster a spell, landing on top of her with enough force to knock the breath out of her body. And then he yanked the dagger out of her sleeve and held it against her throat.