Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Emily,” the Grandmaster called. “Come and look at these.”

  Aurelius sniffed uncomfortably as Emily entered the next chamber. It was smaller than the throne room, but almost as bare. A large stone table, covered with books and a handful of items she didn’t recognize, dominated the room. Several other books lay on the floor, next to the stone walls. She could practically imagine Shadye tearing his way through the manuscripts, then throwing them aside once he was done. He’d been growing increasingly desperate towards the end of his life...

  She pushed the thought to one side and looked at the books. A couple were familiar - she knew them to be textbooks that hadn’t changed in over a hundred years - but others were new to her. One of them discussed basic charms, at length; another talked about blood magic and how best to use it. And Shadye had used it against her...he’d been here, she realized suddenly, when he’d laid his plans against her. She glanced down at the book and cringed, inwardly, as she realized the control spell lay in front of her. A little blood, obtained through cunning or simple violence, and she could make someone - anyone - do whatever she wished.

  “I would advise you not to touch that book,” the Grandmaster said, “but in your case it’s probably futile.”

  Emily blushed. She’d grown into the habit of collecting books, now that she actually had the money to buy them. And she’d even kept a book she knew to be dark, just because it was hers. If she had any claim to Shadye’s properties at all, and no one was quite sure if she did or didn’t, she would assert it over the books. They were hers.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

  “No, you’re not,” the Grandmaster said. He gave her a humorless smile. “Just remember that actually using some of those spells will get you in very real trouble.”

  He looked down at the small collection of objects and shook his head. “The stone knife will have to be destroyed, of course,” he said. He picked up a necklace with a single white crystal, then frowned. “The others...if you wish, they can be brought back to Whitehall for study. A couple of these things are new to me.”

  Emily peered at the necklace as the Grandmaster put it back down on the table. “What is that?”

  “A heartstone,” the Grandmaster said. He shook his head again. “Shadye must have stolen it from someone, years ago. I can’t imagine him ever having one himself.”

  He smiled, seeing the puzzled expression on her face. “A heartstone always comes with a twin,” he said. “If you and your partner are deeply in love, or have strong feelings for one another, you can create a pair of stones and use them to be aware of the other at all times. I believe that your friend used some of the linking spells to create her chat parchments. Unlike those...a heartstone requires genuine feeling between the couple, as well as a strong level of trust. Relationships have been destroyed because of them.”

  Emily frowned. “Why?”

  The Grandmaster snorted. “You would know when your partner looked at another girl and felt a flicker of attraction, or vice versa,” he said. “There would be no white lies, no selective presentations of the truth; there would be nowhere to hide, if your feelings changed. I don’t think I’ve seen someone use one for years.”

  “No privacy,” Emily mused. She couldn’t imagine being willing to share so much of herself with someone else, even if she loved him. “One bad thought could destroy the relationship.”

  “There’s a twisted version used by slavers,” the Grandmaster added. He peered at Shadye’s necklace for a long moment. “Maybe that was what Shadye had in mind.”

  Emily swallowed. Had she been the intended recipient?

  The Grandmaster opened his pouch, carefully inserting the books and objects while Emily picked the books off the floor. One reminded her of the books Aurelius had shown her at Mountaintop, the Book of Pacts between demons and their human masters; another seemed to be a book of stories, although she knew better than to dismiss it out of hand. A third bore Whitehall’s crest on the cover, but the pages inside were completely blank, save for a handful of scribbles in the margin. She carried it back to the Grandmaster and held it up for his inspection.

  “That would have been his personal spellbook, if he’d stayed at Whitehall,” the Grandmaster said. “They changed the design before you arrived. I’m surprised he kept that, Emily.”

  “Maybe he was sentimental,” Emily muttered. It would have surprised her if that were true, but she’d seen stranger things on her travels. “Or wanted something to remind him of his plans.”

  “Or maybe he intended to use the crest to slip into the school,” the Grandmaster said. “It might have been possible, if the wards had been weakened in some way. If the Warden had died in First Year, he might have been able to force his way inside.”

  Emily shuddered.

  They paused for a quick bite to eat, then searched the remainder of the fortress. Emily couldn’t help feeling disappointed, both by how little there was to find and how poorly the building had been maintained. It looked like a ruined castle from Europe, not a place for someone to live and work. But Shadye hadn’t been in any real danger from falling chunks of stone and he’d never entertained guests. He’d lived in a charnel house and he’d never given a damn.

  “I think he must have been doing something here,” the Grandmaster said, as they stepped into yet another room. “There are traces of magic in the air...”

  Emily hesitated, feeling with her mind, then nodded. There was something in the air, something oddly familiar. She paused, thinking hard. Could it be...? She saw a doorway, set within the wall, and opened it carefully. A small prison cell lay inside, dark and empty - and familiar. There had been nowhere to sit, let alone sleep.

  “That’s where I arrived,” she said, softly. “I appeared in that cell.”

  “He must have wanted to make sure you were contained,” the Grandmaster said. He glanced into the cell, then back at Emily. “If he thought you were dangerous...”

  He broke off as a low rattling echoed through the chamber. Something was coming towards them. Emily jumped back, lifting a hand to cast a spell, glancing around to see what was coming their way. Something moved in the darkened corridor beyond, then advanced into the light. A skeleton. She shuddered in remembered horror as the skeleton kept moving forward, followed by three others. Shadye’s magic had animated them, but Shadye was dead. How had they survived three years without falling back into dust?

  “Don’t do anything,” the Grandmaster said. “Wait.”

  Emily nodded, holding her hand at the ready. The skeletons didn’t look dangerous, but they’d been strong enough to drag her through the halls at Shadye’s command. She fought down the urge to step backwards as the leader walked up to her, stopping barely a meter from where she stood, then bowed deeply. Magic danced around them as the other three followed suit, then rose, awaiting orders.

  “They recognize you as their mistress,” the Grandmaster said. “Command them to show us where Shadye hid his treasures.”

  Emily swallowed, then looked at the lead skeleton. “Show us where Shadye hid his treasures.”

  The skeleton did nothing for long seconds, just long enough for her to think she didn’t really have any right to command them, then turned and led them back through the dark corridors towards a barren room. Emily followed, uneasily aware that the other three were bringing up the rear. They might not have been dangerous, at least to her, but they still gave her the creeps. The leader stopped in the center of the room and pointed to a stone slab.

  “Powerful protections here,” the Grandmaster observed, opening the slab carefully. “And look at this!”

  Emily followed his gaze. There were a handful of books and several dozen objects, all stored under the slab. A hammer-like artifact, a set of iron knives, a piece of chalk and a ring made of dull metal. The Grandmaster carefully checked the objects for unpleasant surprises - a handful had lethal curses attached - before placing them in his pouch. Emily took the books, after checking them h
erself, and examined their covers. None of them looked familiar.

  “I’d like to have a look at those, when we get back to the school,” the Grandmaster said. “And I suggest you find a safe place to keep them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said.

  The Grandmaster nodded, and stood. “Ask them if there is anything else,” he ordered. “I want to make as clean a sweep as possible.”

  Emily looked at the skeletons and repeated the question. The skeletons stood there for long seconds, then collapsed into piles of bones. Emily blinked, feeling the magic running through the building start to fade. Had Shadye’s magic finally reached its limit? Or had dispelling the Nightmare Hex started a slow process of collapse?

  “Time to take our leave,” the Grandmaster said, sharply. Something crashed to the ground, not too far away. “The entire building might be about to fall down around our heads.”

  He caught Emily’s arm. “Brace yourself,” he ordered. “Here we go.”

  Emily gritted her teeth as the teleportation field caught them both. Teleporting into the Blighted Lands was dangerous, she’d been told, but getting out...it could be done, if one had the power. She closed her eyes as the world went white...

  ...And, when she opened them again, she was staring at Whitehall School.

  Chapter Four

  “NOT A BAD HAUL, ALL THINGS considered,” the Grandmaster said, as he held Emily steady. She leaned on his arm, reluctantly, until her feet felt able to support her weight. The air felt cool, but blessedly alive compared to the tainted deadness of the Blighted Lands. “And much safer in our hands than in others’.”

  “I suppose,” Emily said. She felt sick to her stomach. “What are you going to do with the objects we found?”

  “Study them,” the Grandmaster said. “Do you want them?”

  Emily shook her head. “Just the books,” she said. “What do we do about the fortress?”

  “I’ll arrange for someone to take another look, in a week or so,” the Grandmaster said, as he gently let go of her arm. “If the Dark Fortress is completely drained of Shadye’s magic, someone else may move in...or it may be left abandoned. It takes a strong-minded person to live next to the Inverse Shadow.”

  He shrugged. “The orcs worry me,” he added. “Either they have a new leader or they’ve found a new chieftain. They might do a little raiding on their own account once the new generation grows to maturity.”

  “In a couple of years,” Emily said. Orcs grew fast. A baby might become an adult within a couple of years, ready to go into combat or start competing for mates of his own. “Will you strike first?”

  “We might,” the Grandmaster said. He turned and started to walk towards Whitehall. “Your friends will be arriving later this evening, Emily. I suggest you pack your bags, and wait in the library until they arrive.”

  Emily nodded, reluctantly. For some arcane reason, she hadn’t been allowed to move straight into the room she would occupy during term, even though she wouldn’t have slept there while she’d been in the Blighted Lands. Perhaps other students staked their claims to the best of everything, if they got there first, but she wouldn’t have done that, would she? Didn’t the Grandmaster know her better than that? She shrugged at the thought, wondering just who she’d get as roommates this time, and followed the Grandmaster back to Whitehall. It was funny just how much the school felt like home.

  “If you have time, write out a detailed report of everything you saw in the Blighted Lands,” the Grandmaster said, as they reached the doors. “And return that little monster to its normal form.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said, as Aurelius slithered off her neck and wrapped himself around her arm. She cast the spell and watched as the snake became a seemingly-harmless bangle, surrounded by anti-thief jinxes and runes designed to make it hard to see. “My friends do know about him...”

  “The last thing I need is someone deciding to save you from a Death Viper,” the Grandmaster said, dryly. “Or fainting when they see one wrapped around your neck.”

  Emily smiled at the thought, bowed to him and hurried up the stairs, back to her temporary room. It was small, with a bed, a desk, a set of bookshelves and not much else, but she was fond of it. In Sixth Year, she’d been told, she would have a room of her own; until then, she had to share with two roommates during term. At least she didn’t have to sleep in dorms, she reminded herself as she placed the bag of books on the desk. Mountaintop hadn’t been a very pleasant place to sleep, even when people weren’t hanging hexes on the drapes or practicing nasty spells. She’d been lucky, she suspected. If she’d gone to Mountaintop as a newcomer, she would have been as badly abused as Frieda.

  She sat down, glancing at the small pile of letters awaiting her. Caleb had written twice - she felt an unaccustomed warm sensation in her chest as she saw his handwriting - and Alassa had written several more times, probably to discuss her impending wedding. She opened her sealed drawer, picked up the chat parchment from where she’d hidden it and scribbled a brief note to say she was fine. Her friends would reply when they saw the message.

  Shaking her head, she opened the letters and read them one by one, making sure there wasn’t anything urgent she might have missed while she was in the Blighted Lands. Caleb’s letters were friendly, apart from a handful of thoughts on their joint project; she surprised herself by smiling after she’d finished reading them both. Alassa was definitely worried about her wedding; Emily hadn’t objected, but some of the other barons had grumbled about their future Prince Consort being of such low birth. Emily would have thought they’d be relieved - Jade couldn’t rule the country in his own right - yet it seemed snobbery had trumped common sense. Beside it, the notes on other political developments in Zangaria were almost welcome.

  “Fools,” she muttered, as she read through the latest attempt to block the spread of her innovations. “You can’t bottleneck something a person can get from anywhere.”

  She put the letters aside for later contemplation, rose to her feet, undressed rapidly and stepped into the shower. The memory of her stepfather mocked her as water ran down her body, reminding her of the times she’d showered at school or gone without, just to avoid his gaze. She’d felt so helpless back then. And yet, the fear that had gripped her, holding her firmly in place, was gone. He was just another person to leave in the past, someone so far away it was certain she would never see him again. Unless she did find a way to go back to Earth...

  No, she told herself firmly, as she stopped the shower and reached for a towel, slowly wiping the water droplets off her body. I’ll never go back.

  Outside, she dressed rapidly, donning her favorite blue dress. It felt soft and unrestricting against her skin, contrasting neatly with her brown hair without showing off too much of her body. She would need to wear shapeless robes again tomorrow, or something lighter when she didn’t have class, but for the moment she might as well enjoy the dress. The thought made her smile as she checked her appearance in the mirror, pulled her hair back into a long ponytail and turned to pack her trunk. It wasn’t hard to make sure that all of Shadye’s books were stored within a specific compartment, accessible only to her. There would be time to study them later.

  She jumped as she heard someone rap on the door, and opened it without checking the wards. Only one person rapped like that; she smiled broadly as Lady Barb stepped into the room, wearing the black robes of a combat sorcerer and carrying a small sheaf of papers in one hand. Her long blonde hair shimmered in the light as she passed the papers to Emily, then nodded to her.

  “I hear you had a good trip,” she said, briskly.

  “We did,” Emily said. She’d talk about what she’d seen when the Nightmare Hex had gripped her later, when she’d had a chance to think about it properly. “We found quite a few books.”

  “I expect you to be very careful with them,” Lady Barb said. Her blue eyes met Emily’s and held them. “You could be held responsible if they fall into the wrong hands.”


  “Yeah,” Emily said. “I have them sealed in my trunk.”

  “I’ll be trying to break into it later,” Lady Barb warned. “Make sure you have it as secure as possible, or else.”

  Emily nodded and hastily changed the subject, holding up the papers. “What are these?”

  “Background information on potential career choices,” Lady Barb said. “At some point within the first month, Emily, you will sit down with someone from the White Council and discuss your future career. You won’t be expected to follow it slavishly, but they will give you useful advice and perhaps a few contacts. I suggest” - her tone indicated that it was actually an order - “that you go through the papers over the next few days, then make up your mind.”

  “Oh,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss her future with strangers. “What if I don’t want to talk to them?”

  “It’s mandatory, unless you have a legitimate reason to refuse,” Lady Barb said. “Alassa has one, Emily, but you don’t.”

  She shrugged. “Pick a handful of possible careers, and talk to them about the prerequisites for apprenticeships or training programs,” she added. “You’ll find them quite useful, if you ask the right questions. They won’t expect you to be certain of what you want to do in life.”

  “I want to be a researcher,” Emily said. “Or a tutor...”

  “I wouldn’t put you in front of a class,” Lady Barb said. “You’d have to maintain control of a whole crowd of louts, brats, snobs, and ignorers without turning them into toads...it isn’t easy.”

  “You make it look easy,” Emily said.

  “A one-on-one tutoring job would probably suit you better,” Lady Barb added, slowly. “You did a good job with Frieda, although you might have done better to curb her more...rebellious instincts.”

  Emily had to smile. Frieda had invented Freeze Tag, gleefully taught it to the other First Year students and played it through Whitehall’s corridors. It might have worked out fine, she thought, if they hadn’t accidentally caught a pair of tutors in the game. Weeks of detention hadn’t curbed Frieda’s sense of playfulness in the slightest.