Schooled in Magic

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  She shivered as the dragon flew away from the city and over the desolate, barren wasteland. There were hundreds of towns and villages, all abandoned and left to rot. In places, there were only a handful of signs that there had ever been a village or town there at all. There were no living humans. The inhabitants had fled or had been killed by the forces that had destroyed their homes.

  Puzzled, Emily stared at the wreckage, trying to work out just how long it had been since the city and the surrounding countryside had been destroyed. Surely, a medieval village wouldn’t last very long if it had been completely abandoned ... but then, some European cities had structures dating back over two thousand years. She shook her head, dismissing the problem as insoluble. It would have to be answered at Whitehall.

  Carefully, keeping one hand holding on to the dragon’s skin, she opened her knapsack and found a roll of bread with some meat, a very makeshift sandwich. Void’s kitchen staff had produced enough food to last her for several days, along with four bottles of water–Void had told her that the bottles were spelled to keep the water cool - and one of a green liquid that smelled vaguely like lime. She ate the sandwich thoughtfully, washing it down with more of the pure boiled water. There was no way to know how long it would be until she reached Whitehall, or what might happen before she was admitted to the school. She might need to save the rest of the sandwiches for later.

  Emily shook her head, wondering at herself. Yesterday, she had been bored of life, desperate to escape her family. Today, she was flying on a dragon ... and somehow she’d come to accept it without any real quibbles. She was in deep trouble–Shadye wanted her dead, others might want to keep her alive, draining her power into themselves–and yet she felt excited, delighted to be here.

  Maybe, after being so long in the shadows, her real life could begin. Or maybe, coming here meant she would finally have a chance to be someone important.

  The ground changed so rapidly that she missed the moment when overgrown towns and villages became nothing more than charred ash on the ground. It looked to have been consumed with fire, burned to the ground until there was literally nothing left. She took a breath and tasted wet ashes floating on the air. The wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by faint hints that the firestorm had raged over cities too well-built to be completely reduced to ash.

  Emily took another breath and felt the tint of magic in the air, sparking against the magic field that kept the dragon aloft. She glanced towards the massive wings and saw blue-green sparks dancing along the scaly surface, moving with an eerie silence that chilled her to the bone.

  And then they were suddenly back in the mountains. The sparks faded away into nothingness. Emily breathed a long sigh of relief and tried to relax. It didn’t work. The sight below the dragon chilled her to the bone.

  These mountains were different from the previous mountain range. The firestorm that had scorched the countryside to ash had raged through these mountains too. There were no plants or trees growing on the craggy stone; everything had been wiped away, leaving nothing, but naked stone.

  Emily shivered again.

  Then the air suddenly grew colder, just before the dragon twisted and headed towards a towering building perched atop a mountain. As they flew closer, she realized that the mountain was actually part of the building and that it was sitting alone, surrounded by another hidden valley of greenery. Unlike the creepy alien city, there were humans in the valley, some staring up at the dragon. Others seemed intent on ignoring it.

  Up close, the giant castle appeared to be built from pure marble. It glowed white in the sunlight, a beacon of hope against the darkness pressing in from the other side of the mountains.

  Emily remembered what Void had said about the lack of entangling alliances and realized, in dismay, that Whitehall was right on the border between the Allied Lands and the necromancers. The necromancers would have to push their way through Whitehall to fall on the Allied Lands beyond.

  The castle blurred into the mountain, hinting that the interior had been completely hollowed out and converted into living space for the students and their tutors. Given what Void had said about the Allied Lands not cooperating very well, it was possible that many of the forces gathered to fight the necromancers were also based at Whitehall. Or perhaps she was wrong.

  She braced herself as the dragon came to a halt, hovering in the air like a giant hummingbird, before dropping down towards the ground, claws extended for a safe landing. The giant creature touched the ground so lightly that, for a moment, Emily didn’t even realize that they had landed.

  “You may disembark,” the dragon rumbled. Emily hastened to obey. “I will consider the debt between myself and your master settled.”

  Emily wanted to point out that Void was hardly her master, that he’d actually refused to consider taking her as his apprentice, but she doubted that the dragon would care.

  “Thank you,” she said. Her legs felt weak and unstable after the flight, forcing her to lean against the dragon’s hot scales until she felt able to walk on her own. “I -”

  The dragon spoke over her. “You should be aware that your master is playing a very dangerous game,” he said.

  Emily looked up in surprise. She’d thought that the dragons were largely uninterested in humanity.

  It was impossible to read any expression on the scaly face. “His plan may cost your world dearly.”

  Emily hesitated, and then asked. “What do you mean?”

  The dragon said nothing. Instead, he flexed its wings and launched himself upwards into the sky.

  Emily watched as he rapidly dwindled into a tiny dot that vanished in the sunlight. Then, she sensed someone standing behind her. When she turned around, she saw a little man whose head barely came up to her chest, wearing a red robe and carrying a staff that was taller than he was. His head, completely bald, reminded her of a Japanese warrior monk from some of the bad films she’d watched as a teenager.

  He wore a cloth over his eyes, but she had the sense that he could see her, somehow. “I am the Grandmaster,” he said. His voice was stilted, as if he couldn’t be bothered to speak naturally. “You are welcome to Whitehall.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, falling back on politeness. The towering castle was awe-inspiring, taking her breath away. “It’s good to be here.”

  The Grandmaster snorted. “They all say that,” he said. “If you’ll follow me?”

  He turned and started to walk towards the castle, his staff tapping against the ground.

  After a moment, Emily followed him, sensing other students looking at her as she entered Whitehall. How many others, she asked herself, had arrived on a dragon? Somehow, she doubted that many others had made such a spectacular entrance.

  Chapter Five

  ONCE SHE STEPPED THROUGH THE LARGE stone doors that led into Whitehall, she felt a rushing, tingling sensation in the air, followed by a faint shimmer that seemed to dance over her body before fading away into nothingness. Her mind felt oddly muffled, as if her ears had been blocked by some outside force, as she walked past a long line of statues wearing armor. The effect felt like the sensation she’d experienced at Void’s tower, but it was much more pronounced. She knew that this must be what magic felt like.

  The Grandmaster looked up at her and smiled. “There are powerful wards in Whitehall,” he said, by way of explanation. “Some to keep outsiders from breaking in, others to stop you and your fellow students from harming yourselves.”

  Emily nodded.

  The rows of immobile armor gave way to a series of paintings of wizards, almost all of them men. There were only a handful of pictures of women, including one of a blonde girl who seemed to be staring at the painter, daring him to do his worst. She couldn’t read the names under the paintings. None of the pictures were moving openly, but every time she looked away and then looked back the pose in each picture was different.

  They passed a handful of students waiting in the corridor, who s
tepped to one side to allow the Grandmaster to pass, as they reached a flight of stairs and walked up to a higher floor. The sense of magic in the air was only growing stronger. Like Void’s tower, Emily realized, Whitehall was far larger on the inside than the outside. It made her wonder what else might be hidden inside the building: secret passageways, hidden bases, perhaps even a place for the tutors to hide and rest away from their pupils. It made sense; human nature probably didn’t change even if magic was involved.

  She followed the Grandmaster into a long corridor and blinked in surprise as she saw a line of students standing with their backs to the wall and their hands on their heads. None of them looked her in the eye as she walked past, which made her realize that they must be in trouble. It didn’t surprise her. The students she had known back home had been quite capable of getting into trouble without magic, so who knew what mischief someone with magic could do?

  At the head of the corridor a harassed-looking man wearing a black robe was talking to one of the students, a young girl with a faintly ill expression.

  “But he hexed me, Master,” she said as they passed. “I didn’t actually mean to turn his skin blue!”

  “And how many times,” the tutor inquired sarcastically, “have you been warned never to feed anyone a potion without testing it first?”

  Before Emily could reflect on this, the Grandmaster led her onwards again, past a pair of statues of wizards carrying wands and a strange creature with a human head and goat’s body. After that odd display, they stepped though a wooden door into a large room dominated by a massive wooden desk and a throne-like chair. It was decorated sparsely, with only a pair of pictures and a couple of parchments Emily guessed to be certificates. They certainly looked like the certificates on the principal’s walls back on Earth. The desk itself appeared hand-carved, covered in little sigils that had been cut into the wood, but it was barren, without the computer or telephone that she would have seen back home.

  “Stand there,” the Grandmaster ordered, as he walked around the table and took his seat, facing her. Emily somehow forced herself to stand still, despite the oddities of the day. “Void wishes for you to learn magic.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said nervously. She had the feeling that she needed to be very polite to the Grandmaster. He might be small and slight, but he could probably turn her into a toad with a snap of his fingers. Back home, there were laws against mistreating students, even if they were the sort of kids who deserved a sound spanking rather than love and understanding. Those laws might not exist here.

  “You have the potential to be a proper sorceress, he says.” The Grandmaster looked down at the table, as if he couldn’t be bothered looking at her. “We will have to verify that, of course, and in doing so we must ensure that you receive a proper grounding in all forms of magic. There will be several days of testing before we start assigning you to classes, as well as exercises and other tricks to hone your powers in the proper direction.”

  Emily nodded, feeling her head spinning. There were more forms of magic than just two?

  The Grandmaster looked up at her, sharply. “Have you worked magic already?”

  Emily hesitated. “I ... I don’t think so,” she said, finally. “I sensed magic, but...”

  He shook his head. “We’ll have to show you how to unlock your powers. I’ll have Mistress Irene work with you, at least at first.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Void wasn’t entirely clear on where you came from,” he said. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

  It wasn’t a request, Emily realized. Quickly, she ran through the entire story, from when she’d been kidnapped by Shadye to the moment Void had put her on the dragon and sent her to Whitehall. Uniquely, at least in the adults she had met, he had the ability to listen without interrupting. The Grandmaster listened until she had finished, and then asked her a couple of questions for clarification. Emily answered the first one easily, but the second was impossible. There was no magic in her world, as far as she knew.

  “Interesting,” the Grandmaster said. He looked down at the table again. “First things first; Void or Shadye gave you a translation spell, probably Shadye. There is something about it that suggests that it was designed for use on someone who might not want it. You can understand us, but I suspect you won’t be able to read our writing.”

  Emily shook her head, remembering the painting. She’d wondered how she could talk to the locals; neither Shadye nor Void would know English. Of course they’d used magic to translate their words into something she could understand! Under the circumstances, it bothered her; one of them had cast a spell on her and she hadn’t even realized it until the Grandmaster had pointed it out. What else might they have done to her?

  But the Grandmaster pressed onwards before she had enough time to ponder that thought.

  “I will have Mistress Irene teach you a basic translation spell for written words,” he said. “Beyond that, you may be well advised to study the language and learn it as quickly as possible. A proper understanding will make it easier to take your studies forward to the highest levels.”

  It wasn’t a request, Emily realized. Part of her wanted to chaff at the requirement–no one had ever forced her to learn another language–but the practical part of her mind told her that she had no choice. Besides, she had never studied outside the country before. The rules were probably different for exchange students. They had to be able to communicate with their hosts.

  He smiled, thinly. “You’re not from this world, but I’ll give you the standard lecture anyway. The Allied Lands may have countless disputes, ancient and modern, but they are not tolerated in this school. Students who pick fights with other students over such divisive issues are punished; those who remain here long enough to enter the advanced classes are expected to swear an oath to the White Council and abandon their nationalist beliefs. There are too many necromancers out there for us to be distracted by infighting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said. Questions filled her mind, demanding answers. What was the White Council? And what were the advanced classes? She pushed them aside, knowing that there would be time to find out later. She needed to get her bearings first.

  The Grandmaster shrugged. “You should be able to rise above it, as whatever disputes there were on your world are unlikely to matter here. However, in the event that you don’t rise above it, you will be punished. It’s astonishing how many students refuse to believe the warning until it is too late.”

  His unseen eyes, hidden behind the cloth, seemed to fix on her face. “There is a great temptation to misuse magic in this school. We allow a certain degree of latitude for youngsters, because it helps them to learn to control their powers, but there are limits. You’ll hear more specific warnings later, but–in particular–anything that risks a fellow student’s life is grounds for immediate expulsion from the school. Those who actually manage to kill a fellow student will have to face that student’s family.”

  Emily gulped. What had she gotten herself into? “Does ... does that happen very often?”

  “Too often,” the Grandmaster said. His voice was grim, suggesting that he was recalling dark days when students under his care had been hurt–or worse. “If there is any doubt at all over what happened, everyone involved will be interrogated under truth spells until the truth comes out into the light, after which punishments will be assigned.”

  He stood up, suddenly. “We hope that you will enjoy your years here, and that you will live up to the potential Void sensed in you, but there are limits to what we can tolerate,” he concluded. “But you’re not from here. You should be able to ignore the political scrabbling and infighting between different factions.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Emily promised.

  The Grandmaster’s lips twitched. “The proper title is Grandmaster, young lady,” he said, drolly. “I suggest that you listen to how tutors introduce themselves and remember it. They take it so personally when someone gives them the wr
ong title.”

  He smiled, more naturally. “If you will come with me...?”

  The line of students standing against the wall had grown longer in the few minutes they’d been in the Grandmaster’s office. A pair of them glanced at Emily as she passed; the remainder ignored her, seemingly reluctant to risk catching the Grandmaster’s attention. Absently, she wondered what sorts of punishments were assigned in a magical school. Did they have to write lines, or do detentions? Or were they simply turned into frogs for a few hours? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. No doubt she would find out soon enough.

  They stopped in front of a blank wall that the Grandmaster tapped it with his staff. It opened, revealing another corridor leading away into the distance. The stone walls were interrupted, every few meters, by wooden doors. A short fat woman waddled out of a side door and looked up at the Grandmaster, before taking a long and thoughtful look at Emily.

  “This is Madame Razz,” the Grandmaster said. “She is your housemother for your first two years at the school. I suggest that you listen to her very carefully.”

  “Thank you, Grandmaster,” Madame Razz said. She had a tart voice that suggested that she wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. “What time is her first class?”

  “Mistress Irene will arrange that,” the Grandmaster informed her. “Until then, she is free to be outfitted with everything she needs for her first term.”

  He nodded to Emily, then turned and strode out of the concealed door.

  Emily turned back in time to see Madame Razz study her with a faintly disapproving expression. But before Emily could start to worry about it, she beckoned Emily to follow her down the corridor into a large storeroom, which was crammed with everything from clothes to bedding and toilet supplies. Madame Razz studied her for another long moment before producing a white robe from a pile of clothing and thrusting it at her. Emily held it up against her body and realized that it would fit, although it would also conceal the shape of her body from prying eyes.