The Necromancer's Apprentice

by Icy Sedgwick

  Icy Sedgwick

  The Necromancer's Apprentice

  Book 1 - The Underground City Series

  First published by Skolion in 2018

  Copyright © Icy Sedgwick, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  Third Edition

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  Contents

  The Necessary Stuff at the Start

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Get more of Eufame Delsenza

  The Necessary Stuff at the Start

  Copyright © 2014 Icy Sedgwick

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval system, without the written permission of the author and the publisher, except where permitted by law. This book contains a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s creation or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The moral right of the authors has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Digital Edition published by Skolion (3rd Edition)

  LICENSE NOTES

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  BEFORE WE GET STARTED…

  If you enjoy this book, please take the time to leave a short review at whatever retailer’s site you purchased it from.

  You can also get an exclusive prequel story from Icy’s website – but more on that at the end of the book. Buckle in, keep your arms inside the car at all times, and enjoy the ride!

  Dedication

  For Anubis and Bast.

  1

  Jyx put down his quill and stared at the open texts before him. Professor Tourney required four incantations to be written from scratch, and he needed to practice his sigil-writing for Madam Edifer. He looked at the books and sighed. The problem with homework was not the “work” part of the equation. No, Jyx usually completed the set tasks in half the time of his classmates. Rather, it was the “home” part with which he had difficulty.

  His cramped garret room was not an ideal location for study. His narrow window overlooked the clamour and stench of Benefactor’s Close, and the accumulated dirt clinging to the panes prevented all but the most persistent light from entering his room. Rats scuttled behind the walls, and the dying embers in the grate no longer gave out any measurable heat. His study candle, the very candle his mother had scrimped and saved for six months to buy, was now less than an inch tall, and splattered more hot wax across the desk than light across his work.

  Jyx shoved back the chair, wincing as the feet scraped across the decayed floorboards. The shouts of his five siblings drifted up the narrow staircase to the garret, followed by his mother’s plaintive pleas for quiet. He marvelled at their ability to make more noise than the traders in the close outside. Their nonsensical games and absurd habits often made him consider the fact he may well be a changeling, accidentally deposited with his mother instead of a well-groomed gentlewoman in the City Above.

  On cue, Jyx took up the hand-painted postcard from his desk. It depicted a wide, tree-lined boulevard. White brick villas and manicured lawns faced each other across the street. Jyx dreamed of a life in the City Above, a life of natural light and clean air. Missa, the only student in his class who didn’t despise him, had slipped him the postcard during a class on banishing. One day, once he’d passed his exams and become a fully licensed mage, he too would live there and enjoy fresh water and open space.

  “Jyximus!” His mother’s voice screeched through the garret’s foetid atmosphere. Jyx sighed, replaced the postcard on his desk, and trudged downstairs.

  The grime of the Underground City streaked the windows of the lower rooms. Flickers of gaslight from the lamp outside penetrated the gloom. His mother sat in a rotting chair by the cold fireplace, a pile of mending in a broken basket on the floor. She hunched over someone’s shirt, repairing a tear. Jyx couldn’t tell whose shirt it was.

  “I’ve sent your brothers and sisters down to the market, but gods know there won’t be much left at this time,” she said.

  “At least whatever they do have will be cheap.” Jyx glanced at the clock above the fireplace. Five o’clock in the evening. He frowned. There was no such thing as time in the Underground City, only varying degrees of darkness.

  “Jyx, stop daydreaming. Make yourself useful and sort that lot out on the table.” His mother gestured to a pile of whitish dust on an old plate. Jyx pulled up a stool and turned himself so he wouldn’t cast his own shadow across the work to be done.

  To stretch their food budget, his mother liked to preserve whatever meat she could get her hands on. She bought the cheapest salt available from a less-than-reputable trader in Mercer’s Close. Jyx despised the trader, but he despised his tendency to mix the salt with sand even more. Jyx’s evening task was to separate the grains, giving his mother valuable salt, and himself sand to use in his experiments.

  “How much sand do you need?” she asked.

  “Just a handful this time. I managed to enchant the last batch.”

  “Oh!” She looked up from her work, pride etched into her worn features. “What did it do?”

  “I used it to plug a hole in my shoe.” Jyx slipped off the leather boot and showed his mother the hole near the toe on the outside of the sole then pointed to the smooth, sand-coloured patch on the inside of the shoe. Only a keen eye, or a magickal background, would recognise the patch as an enchantment.

  “Why, that’s a helpful little thing to have learnt!”

  “I know. I thought you’d like that one.”

  His mother beamed at him with pride. Jyx smiled; maybe her sacrifices to get him a place at the Academy wouldn’t be for nothing.

  Jyx returned to his work. He drew a sigil with his finger on the woodwork of the table, and poured a handful of the salty sand over it. The sand clung to the mark, but the salt bounced up and down, unable to settle. Jyx swept his hand under the bouncing salt, catching the grains in his palm. This spell wasn’t exactly on the syllabus at the Academy, but it was amazing what you could find in the library if you had the nerve to go looking for it.

  Half an hour passed before the salt and sand lay on separate plates. The door burst open as Jyx erased the sigil. His brothers and sisters piled into the room, parading their purchases in front of their mother. She inspected bread so hard she could use it to knock in nails, and passed judgement on the scraps of flesh more fat than meat. Mould bloomed on the crust of the wheel of cheese, and the fruit looked mere hours a
way from complete decay.

  “Very good, children. Run and wash your hands while I make us some supper,” Jyx’s mother said. The youngsters thundered out of the room. Jyx stood and headed to the door.

  “Won’t you have some supper, Jyx?”

  “I find I’m not hungry tonight, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jyx’s stomach rumbled but he just couldn’t face a mouldy supper again. Besides, he could eat tomorrow at the Academy. It was better that his brothers and sisters were fed. He cast a forlorn look at the near inedible food and headed for the stairs. It was not the first time he would go to bed hungry, and more than likely it would not be the last.

  * * *

  A cock crowed in the depths of the Underground City. Prodded into life by one of the Time Keepers, it announced the dawn that none of the inhabitants could see. Jyx groaned and threw back his threadbare blanket. He swung his legs out of the narrow cot and picked his way across the floor, mindful to avoid the sleeping forms of his siblings. He snatched up his satchel from where it lay beside his desk.

  An iron basin and a chipped jug of water sat on the dining table. Jyx washed his face and hands in the tepid water, and left the washing things for his brothers and sisters. There wouldn’t be any more fresh water until lunchtime, by which point Jyx would be long gone.

  “Ah, you’re up. Would you like some breakfast?” His mother bustled out of the poky pantry beside the small kitchen range.

  “No, I haven’t got time. What are you doing up so early?” Jyx shrugged into the robes hung up to dry before the fire. He allowed himself to enjoy the brief flurry of warmth as they settled against his skin.

  “It’s washing day, Jyx. I have a lot to get through.”

  Jyx frowned, thinking of his mother’s workload, and swung his satchel onto his shoulder. His mother held out a puckered apple, and he slipped it into his bag. He could always eat it during morning break if he hid behind the well—the other boys would never let him hear the end of it if they caught him eating such rotten fruit.

  “Now you have yourself a good day, Jyx. Learn all you can and remember to respect your elders.”

  Jyx rolled his eyes and kissed his mother on the cheek before descending the three flights of stairs to the street. The narrow close was already full of hawkers and peddlers, and a night lady winked at him as she sashayed past in mismatched heeled boots. He watched her round bottom sway from side to side for a few moments before snapping out of his trance. Night ladies could end up being very expensive if they caught you in their thrall—or so he’d been told. Some of the wealthier boys would “slum it” in the Underground City, looking for thrills, and they told tall tales of what they got up to.

  Jyx threaded his way upwards through the maze of alleys and closes. A meandering path took him out of the centre of the Underground City, and he trudged up the worn steps towards Lockervar’s Gate. Eight feet wide and fifteen feet tall, the gate kept the inhabitants of the Underground City from pestering those in the City Above. That was the theory, although everyone knew there was more than one way out.

  “’Alt, who is it?”

  A guard stepped out of a lopsided wooden hut beside the massive gate. He wore the typical battered leather armour of the Underground City Guard, and his helmet seemed three sizes too big for him. He clutched a bent halberd in his shaking hands, and Jyx wondered why the Guard would recruit someone scarcely older than himself.

  “I’m a student at the Academy,” Jyx replied.

  “’Course you are, ’n I’m a wood elf.” The guard attempted a sneer but he looked more like he was trying to suppress a sneeze.

  Jyx sighed and rummaged in his satchel for his Academy identification. He held out the small square of burgundy leather, bearing his name in gold letters, and an embossed sigil.

  “What do I do with that, then?”

  Another guard appeared from behind the hut, tucking his leggings behind his leather codpiece. Jyx didn’t need to guess what he’d been doing—the smell of ammonia was overpowering.

  “What’s the trouble?” asked the guard.

  “Your assistant won’t accept my identification.” Jyx showed the leather square to the newcomer.

  “All right, do yer thing then.”

  Jyx uttered a single word and the sigil lit up, its glow the same shade of gold as the lettering. The newcomer nodded and waved Jyx through. Only the bearer of the square could accomplish that feat. The younger guard pouted and stomped back into the hut as Jyx walked past.

  The stone city lay beneath a pale blue sky, still tinted with the purple and pink of the dawn. Craftsmen and traders busied themselves with the setup of their stalls along the thoroughfare that led from the gate into the Artists’ Quarter. Jyx looked at their plump fruit and fresh bread with hungry eyes, but an empty purse hung from his belt. The traders gave him suspicious glances and a wide berth as he walked past.

  A busy network of canals crisscrossed the Artists’ Quarter, and Jyx spotted several painters or poets hanging out of upper windows, staring into the green water below. Jyx had never studied art or literature, except where it was relevant to his magickal studies, but he didn’t think they’d find their muse in the canals.

  People queued at the nearest jetty. A massive man with slick black hair and a perfectly sculpted handlebar moustache waved them this way and that, dispensing them into the gondolas and ferries that traversed the canals of the quarter. He spotted Jyx and nodded, pointing towards a rotten jetty farther along the street. A tall man, as thin as the other was broad, leaned against the wall. A cigarillo hung from his narrow lips and a floppy hat shaded his eyes from the early morning sun.

  “Ah, Master Faire.”

  “Just going to the Academy, Pickford. Same as usual.”

  Jyx hopped down into the battered gondola, and set his satchel between his feet. Pickford stepped down behind him, bringing with him a waft of cigarillo smoke and stale meat sandwiches.

  “You’re sure I can’t interest you in something else?”

  “No, Pickford. Academy, ho!”

  Jyx pointed along the canal and laughed. Pickford giggled, a peculiar nasal sound, and pushed away from the jetty. The gondolier tried to divert Jyx towards less wholesome activities than school daily, and it had become something of a standing joke between the pair. Jyx missed him on those days when he ran the more mundane routes, and Jyx was ferried by Knoxxos, the giant with the ginger goatee.

  The gondola slid through the water, the sounds of the Artists’ Quarter fading as they drew away from the main canals. A single canal cut through this side of the quarter, and the neighbouring Warlock Hill, on the way to the Academy. Nearly all of the other students lived in the City Above, and travelled to school by coach or foot. Only Jyx, from his lowly home in the Underground City, arrived by canal.

  “So how is the schooling, my young friend?” Pickford asked.

  “Same as usual. The teachers go through the basic stuff for everyone else, and I get bored because I learned it last year. But I have to pretend like I’m interested.”

  “It’s the same for anybody who’s good at something. They will catch you up and you will all learn together, I am sure.”

  Jyx frowned at the water. He didn’t want his classmates to catch up to him. As bored as he often got, he liked being ahead of them. It was the only thing that almost made it worthwhile to be a total outcast.

  The pastel-coloured buildings gave way to the austere white residences of Warlock Hill. Flashes of coloured light escaped through cracks in the tight shutters, and Jyx wondered what sorcery went on within the workshops and laboratories that overlooked the canals. Pickford pointed out a night lady, sunning herself at an open window, and Jyx gasped.

  “You are not the only one from below up here, no?” Pickford smirked.

  Eventually the canal left Warlock Hill behind, and meandered through the grounds of the Academy. Jyx caught flashes of it through the trees, its gleaming towers and elegant spires reflecting the mo
rning sun. On several occasions, Jyx spotted a raven. Every time he noticed the bird perched on a wall or a pillar, it paused to preen its feathers until the gondola passed. Jyx preferred to think that a bird keeper had lost his menagerie. After all, why would a raven follow him to school?

  Pickford guided the gondola towards a dilapidated jetty and helped Jyx scramble out of the boat. Jyx thanked him and hurried along the jetty towards the gravelled walk that led to the main building. He clutched Pickford’s wooden token in his pocket; if he didn’t hand it to Administrator Wexen, Pickford wouldn’t be paid.

  Jyx walked along the path that led around the side of the main building and came out on the main walk that ran all the way to the entrance gates. A low hubbub filled the air as students alighted from coaches or sent accompanying servants on their way. Jyx slipped into the throng making their way up the wide staircase towards the entrance doors, and headed inside for another day of tedious lectures. Still, he’d rather be listening to a lecture about a charm he already knew than be scrubbing floors in the Underground City. Besides, there was always another library visit to excite him.

  2

  Jyx sat at the back of the class and held open his incantations textbook, hoping that Professor Tourney wouldn’t notice the slim volume of Pithman’s Advanced Geomagicae resting inside. At the front of the class, Reetha Edstow recited her incantations in a dull monotone. Jyx snorted. He didn’t know what outcome Reetha had intended, but if she’d been trying to bore the entire class to death, then she was doing something right. Missa sat near the front of the class. Judging by the tilt of her head, she’d fallen asleep.