The Artful Apprentice

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Now, please,” the duke said. “For the sake of the children.”

  Emily lifted the gourd to her lips. The guard moved closer, watching her carefully. Pouring the potion down her dress wasn’t an option. But if she... she gathered herself, carefully drawing the magic from the liquid as she forced herself to drink. It tasted foul — her stomach heaved in rebellion as she kept drinking — but it was powerless. She prayed, desperately, that she’d absorbed enough of the magic to render the potion useless. The duke would see her as helpless. As long as he believed it, she had a chance.

  “Good,” the duke said. “Very good.”

  He took the crown and held it in the air. The wrought iron glinted oddly under the light, as if the crown were made of tarnished silver. It seemed to respond to the duke’s touch. She held her breath as he placed it on his head, half-expecting the crown to crush his skull like an eggshell. There were crowns that did just that, she’d been told, when they’d been placed on the wrong skull. But this crown did nothing.

  “In the name of my ancestors, and the dragons who birthed us, I take my place as King Hardcastle of the Dragonschild Line,” the duke said. Willis made a slight noise of protest. The duke ignored him. “And today marks the dawn of a new era for us all.”

  His smile grew cold as he straightened, careful to keep a tight grip on Willis. Emily watched him, gauging her chances. If she hit him with a coin... if he gave her the chance... his men were moving around the chamber, forcing everyone with even a hint of magical ability to drink the potion themselves. She swallowed, hard. The coup had clearly been carefully planned. The movers and shakers, cut off from their power bases, were unable to do anything.

  “Most of you will remain here, ready to pledge yourselves to me when I return,” the duke said. “I go now to fulfill my destiny. And those of you lucky enough to accompany me will bear witness to my ascension.”

  Emily forced herself to think. The duke sounded crazy, yet... she gritted her teeth as the guard caught her hands, yanking them behind her back. Magic pulsed under her skin, ready to blast him to ashes, but it would mean certain death for Willis and far too many of the other hostages if she unleashed it. The coin she’d palmed fell to the ground, clinking uselessly as the guard tied her hands behind her. She could free herself in an instant, if she was prepared to risk getting everyone else killed...

  Bide your time, she told herself.

  The guards moved from guest to guest, searching them and tying their hands before shoving them into the antechamber. Princess Elena squeaked as her hands were tied; beside her, the queen submitted without a fight. There’ll be a chance.

  “I’ll be leaving your two bastards here, in the care of my sons,” the duke informed the queen, as he marched Willis off the podium. “If you give me any trouble...”

  “I understand,” the queen said. She sounded shaken, so shaken that Emily thought — she hoped — it was at least partly an act. “I...”

  “Good.” The duke leered at her. If he thought the queen was faking, he didn’t show it. “And if you behave, I’ll even see you get a proper match.”

  He smirked as his guards pushed the hostages towards the far door. Emily cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the guard as he took her arm and yanked her down the aisle. She could break free, but... she told herself, again and again, to wait. Let him underestimate her, if he wished. Let him think she was nothing without her powers...

  Keep thinking of me as helpless, she urged him, silently. She let the guard shove her onward, taking advantage of the motion to probe the duke’s defenses. And when you turn your back, I’ll put a knife in it.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  THE DUKE, EMILY HAD TO ADMIT, had planned a neat little coup. He’d put everything in place well before the ceremony, ready to take control of the castle and the surrounding streets as soon as he gave the word. She tried to look harmless, a helpless prisoner, as the guards frog marched the captives down endless flights of stairs. It wasn’t easy. The urge to blast the guard into atoms was growing stronger every second.

  “Lady Emily!” Simon was being marched up the stairs, his escorts pushing him up. His tunic was stained with potion. “I need...”

  “Quiet, you,” the guard growled. “You can make your case to His Grace later.”

  Emily kept her face as impassive as possible as the guard kept marching her down the stairs, into the darkness. She wanted to cast a night-vision spell, but she didn’t dare. She had no idea if any of the guards were sensitive to magic. Instead, she waited until they walked into a pool of light at the bottom. A roughly-hewn tunnel gaped open. The guards pushed the prisoners on, without stopping for a rest. Emily heard Princess Elena protest, only to be silenced by a violent slap. The nasty part of her mind insisted the guard would be in deep shit when the duke found out. There was no way to claim Princess Elena wasn’t legitimate.

  She kept that thought to herself as the dark tunnel finally opened into a giant basement. The guards met their comrades and exchanged a few words in a language she didn’t recognize, then marched their prisoners up the stairs and out into the cold air. They looked to be in a courtyard — a castle courtyard. A line of carriages, bearing the royal livery, were already waiting. She caught sight of the duke, still holding Willis by the neck, as they were pushed into the carriages. The inside was both luxurious and secure. She could feel wards pressing on her as she took her seat. Princess Elena sat, facing her. There was a large red mark on her pale face.

  The duke poked his head into the carriage. “I trust we won’t have to bring out the manacles?”

  Emily looked him in the eye. “You killed the Arbiter,” she said. Rogan had deserved better. “That’s a declaration of war against the Allied Lands.”

  “The Allied Lands will know nothing about his death until it is far too late,” the duke said, easily. The sheer confidence in his voice rankled her. “And by the time they do, they’ll understand they have nothing to gain by waging war on us.”

  “On you,” Emily said. “How long do you think you’ll keep that crown?”

  The duke gave her a nasty look, then withdrew. The guards banged the shutters into place, cutting off all sight of the outside world. She felt the carriage rattle as the horses were hooked up, with guards and drivers clambering to sit at the front. A rumble echoed through the air a moment before the carriage jerked into life. She groaned, inwardly. The duke hadn’t bothered to enchant the carriages for comfort. It was going to be a long trip.

  Princess Elena looked terrified. “I thought... he’s mad.”

  “It looks that way,” Emily agreed, although she wasn’t so sure. The duke had pulled off a coup under her very nose, planning carefully to ensure no one could do anything to stop him. He’d done it so well it didn’t matter, for the moment, that she still had her magic. She could free herself and break out of the carriage, but not without alerting him. “Where is he taking us?”

  “North,” Elena said. She looked down at the wooden flooring. “He’ll be taking us to the Dragoran Mountains.”

  Emily frowned. “Why...?”

  “The Dragonschild — the first Dragonschild — was crowned there,” Elena told her. “By tradition, all of his heirs have to be crowned there too. The North won’t accept him unless...”

  Her voice trailed off. “Father told me there was more to the ceremony than anyone knew, anyone outside the royal lineage,” she added. “But he didn’t tell me what.”

  The duke might know, Emily thought. She winced as the carriage rattled over a pothole. And he must have a plan to deal with the Allied Lands.

  She forced herself to think as the carriage rattled on. The duke might intend to blame the whole thing on the queen. It was quite possible, although he’d have to make sure the witnesses were silenced. That wasn’t going to be easy. If he killed her... Void would certainly want to know what had happened to his apprentice and presumed daughter. The duke had to have some kind of plan to deal with an outraged sorcerer demand
ing answers and threatening horrific retribution. But what? Void wasn’t going to be deterred by a threat to a young man’s life.

  “I thought... I didn’t know... he killed my father.” Tears glistened in Elena's eyes. “And what’s he going to do to me?”

  Marry you off to someone who can keep you in line, Emily guessed. She kept that thought to herself. Or find a way to keep you under control.

  She reached out, very carefully, to touch the wards. They were fiendishly complex, but they had the air of wards that had been thrown together in a hurry. Her lips twitched as she started to feel them out, considering how best to work through them — or break them. Void had forced her to practice shattering wards, time and time again. Had he known what was coming? Or had it merely been part of her apprenticeship? She put the thought aside for later contemplation as she allowed her senses to drift across the wards, attuning her magic to their blind spots. She didn’t dare push too hard. The duke — or his tame sorcerers — could have layered tripwires all over the wards.

  And he has at least one extremely powerful and dangerous sorcerer under his thumb, Emily reminded herself. The duke’s a blademaster. His talents are limited. He couldn’t have killed the king personally.

  Her eyes narrowed as she slowly but surely subverted the wards. It didn’t feel as if someone was constantly monitoring them, as if the duke expected some kind of trick. It puzzled her, like everything else about the whole affair. The duke seemed to be an odd mixture of hyper-competent planner and strikingly careless idiot. It made no sense. If he had a sorcerer who could kill the king, and nearly kill Emily herself, why not put him to work on the wards? Had he already been dismissed? Or simply murdered to keep his mouth shut? Who knew?

  “I’m scared,” Elena admitted. “Lady Emily, how do you cope?”

  Emily considered her answer carefully. “I’m often scared too,” she said. She remembered the terror of first discovering that magic was real, and shivered. “Everyone gets scared. The trick is not to let it paralyze you.”

  “Uncle never gets scared,” Elena said. “They say he can’t be beaten. Ever.”

  And there’s a huge loophole in that prophecy, Emily thought coldly. And if it really did come from a demon, I’d bet I can put a sword through him.

  She frowned, considering her options. She might be able to crush the duke’s protections through brute force, but the backlash would be savage. The energies she’d unleash might kill everyone else too. She might be able to work her way through the protections, but that would give him a clear shot at Willis. And... she scowled. Blademasters were dangerous, almost unbeatable in single combat. Thankfully, they were rare.

  “They said that about Shadye too,” Emily pointed out. “Tell me, have you ever been to the mountains?”

  “Once,” Elena said. “I was a little girl...”

  Emily nodded. “How long did it take? Roughly?”

  “I don’t know,” Elena said. “I... it was just after my mother died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said, automatically. “Did you stop along the way?”

  “No,” Elena said. “The mountains weren’t that far away.”

  Emily nodded. The trip wouldn’t take more than a few hours then, at most. She’d traveled in enough carriages to know that most aristocrats wouldn’t ride in them for long, even if their travel was smoothed with magic. They’d stop along the way, spending the night with their friends and political allies. She forced herself to recall the map, considering the possibilities. Willis had said something about the roads being bad, but... it didn’t matter. They might already be halfway to their destination.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, as reassuringly as possible. “And we’ll teach the duke a lesson.”

  Elena nodded, then huddled into herself. Emily winced, then forced herself to go back to studying the wards as the carriage started to rattle again. The roads were definitely bad. She would be sore and bruised by the time they came to a stop. And there was little hope of a warm bath at the far end. Her stomach rumbled unpleasantly, the powerless potion sitting uneasily. She was tempted to make herself throw up, but if the duke noticed... he’d be sure to insist that she drank more.

  A low bang echoed through the carriage as it rattled to a halt. Elena looked up, snapping out of her funk as someone fiddled with the shutters. Emily could hear men shouting, speaking a language she didn’t recognize. The books hadn’t lied, she thought, as the shutters were pulled free. The North really hadn’t been brought into the empire. They still spoke their own language, maintained their own customs...

  She gritted her teeth as she was manhandled out of the carriage. It was twilight, the sun fading behind distant mountains. She stared up at a giant flight of stairs leading up the mountainside to a dark crevice. They couldn’t possibly be natural and yet... they looked as if they’d grown out of the rock. A giant statue — a dragon in flight — stood beside the stairs, so perfect it was almost real. A nasty thought ran through her head as Elena was pulled down to stand beside her. The dragon statue might just be real. Or... she reached out with her senses, only to discover that the mountains were drenched in magic. The duke had brought them straight to a high-magic zone.

  Emily glanced back as the duke’s stentorian tones echoed through the air, barking orders to his guards. A sour-faced woman materialized in front of Emily, studied her in a manner that suggested she could barely even stand to look at her, then leaned forward and ran her hands over Emily’s body. Emily had to fight to stand still as the woman carefully removed everything from her pockets, even the concealed compartment. Elena squeaked in protest as another woman did the same to her. Emily wasn’t surprised. The duke should have searched his hostages as soon as he’d taken them captive. Oddly, the thought brought her hope. The duke couldn’t be anywhere near as confident as he claimed. Who knew what was happening back in the city?

  The woman muttered something that sounded nasty, dumped Emily’s possessions into the carriage and walked away. Emily was tempted to hex her, even though it would have revealed she still had magic. Instead, she allowed the guards to push her towards the steps and up towards the shadowy entrance. Lanterns hung from trees, casting a strange light over the scene. She glanced back, spotting the duke and his personal captives as they followed the guards up the stairs. Beyond them, in the distance, she saw the dim lights of a city. Maybe they hadn’t gone that far after all.

  It was midmorning when all hell broke loose, Emily thought. Her body ached as she tried to keep up. And now it’s evening.

  She tested her bonds, carefully, as they kept climbing. The giant stairway seemed to be growing longer and longer. She could see — and sense — things moving, flickering at the corner of her eye or hidden within the pools of shadow. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled endless warnings about high-magic zones. They could be incredibly dangerous to anyone who dared step inside. Even a sorcerer would have problems.

  It felt as if they’d walked for hours before they finally reached the top of the stairs and peered into the darkness. The cave was immense, the walls lined with statues of men and tiny sculptures of dragons. She glanced from side to side as they walked through the shadows and into the next chamber. A giant crevice lay in front of them. It seemed to plunge down for miles. The guard pushed her against the wall, then let go of her. Emily turned to see the duke standing next to Willis. The queen stood beside him, hair hanging over her pale face and hands bound behind her back. She looked as if she were on the verge of going into shock.

  The duke turned and strode over to Emily, keeping a firm grip on Willis. He looked pleased with himself, pleased enough to be talkative... Emily tested his protections carefully, reluctant to risk pushing too hard until she knew she could crack them without either alerting him or killing his captive too. He smirked, his expression vastly amused. Beside him, Willis looked terrified. His hands had been left unbound, his dagger at his side, but he looked too scared to realize he could use it.

  And the duk
e could snap his neck with ease, Emily thought, grimly. The duke was the most muscular man she’d ever seen. Even Sergeant Harkin hadn’t looked so formidable. And Willis knows it.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Elena said. “You murdered my father!”

  “The royal whore murdered your father,” the duke said, with an air of tolerant patience. “And everyone will know her for the murdering bitch she is.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” the queen protested. “I loved him!”

  “A likely story,” the duke said. He nodded to one of the guards, who drove a mailed fist into the queen’s stomach. The queen bent over, writhing in pain. She would have hit the ground if the guard hadn’t caught her arm. “Who else benefits from my brother’s death?”

  Emily spoke before Elena could say something that would get her hit. “You do,” she said, sharply. She’d heal the queen the moment she had a chance. “You’ve taken advantage of your brother’s death to take the throne yourself.”

  The duke clenched his fist. Emily braced herself, but the blow never came. “I did not kill my brother,” he said, sharply. “I loved my brother.”

  “Liar,” the queen said. “You...”

  The guard kicked her, sharply. Emily spoke as quickly as she could to keep him from hitting the queen again. “Is that the official story?”

  “It’s the truth!” The duke put a hand on his sword. “I did not kill my brother.”

  Emily frowned. She didn’t believe him, yet... there was something about the way he said it that nagged at her. If he’d ordered his brother killed, rather than doing it in person... no, legally he’d be just as guilty as the sorcerer who cast the spell. Was the duke mad enough to believe his own innocence? Or... or what? If he wasn’t the killer...

  “The royal whore was going to be put aside,” the duke said. “She knew it. She killed him before she could be pensioned off and sent to a brothel...”

  “I didn’t!” The queen pulled away from the guard. “I swear, by all the gods, I didn’t...”