Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

~No~

The thin hope fades. Whether it was answering the first question, the second, or both, it doesn’t matter. If we can’t stop the necromancer—or necromancers—early, then what’s coming is a disaster beyond imagining. Our only hope now is to find the stone’s champion.

Which is going to be my job.

I should have done as my father wanted and become a courtier. I could be lolling around at the Queen’s palace right now, flirting with pretty young men and women and getting drunk on the best wine around.

A jolt of impatience startles me, and I flick a glare at the stone. This manner of communication is going to get old very fast. But I let go of my self-pity and glance around the chamber. Unlike with the responses to earlier questions, there is no uproar. No chatter. No arguments. The room is quiet, the councilors overcome with their fear and despair.

Maybe the stone has reason to be impatient.

“Well,” I say, my voice tearing through the silence and startling several of the masters, “at least we know what’s coming. I suppose the next step is to consult the scholars, prepare as best we can.”

Master Cranch stares at me blankly. “What scholars?”

Suddenly unsure, I look at Master Samoine. His face is gray, drawn, and his eyes are lost. That scares me more than anything else could. “The… the scholars of the zombie wars. They’re the experts on this, yes? Which masters have made the wars their field of expertise?”

My master slowly shakes his head. “There are no scholars of the zombie wars.”

The sudden dryness in my throat makes it hurt to breathe. “I don’t understand.”

“Everything we know about the zombie wars, you learned in your classes,” Master Cranch says somberly. “There is nothing else. No records. No stories. Nothing. It was all destroyed to keep it from happening again.”

My jaw drops. The stone pulses in my mind, a sense of contempt for our stupidity. “We only know what we teach in classes?” I repeat. “But… that’s nothing. That’s….” I scrape through my memories. “It’s a handful of tales about the scale of slaughter and the length of the wars. It’s… it was barely enough to fill a single term!” My voice is rising. “How can we not know anything else?”

“It was destroyed,” Master Cranch says again, “to keep anyone from?—”

“That obviously failed ,” I shout. “Because someone out there is raising zombies, which means they not only learned how, but they know more about them than we do!” I suck in a breath. “How can we protect anyone if we don’t even know how to kill the damn things?”

“Our predecessors did what they thought was best,” someone behind me says, and I round on the assembled mages with thoughts of murder uppermost in my mind.

“They were wrong,” I snap. “And we will pay for?—”

“Talon!” Master’s whip-sharp warning stops me. This is not the time to lose my temper. I’m a very junior mage in this room.

I take a breath. “Forgive me. I’m… afraid. People are going to die before we can even work out how to kill the enemy. I know our ancestors were trying to protect us, but… someone should have been designated the guardian of this information.” My breathing is ragged as I turn back to the stone. When the councilors recover from their shock, I’m going to be knee-deep in shit for speaking to them that way. I don’t have time for that, so we need to move on. “Do you know how to kill zombies?”

~Yes~

I consider that answer, then rephrase the question. “Do you know how we can kill zombies?”

~Yes~

“Can the unTalented do it?”

~No~

Damn. It was a long shot, but I hoped. “Magic?”

~Yes~

That still leaves a lot of ground to cover. I’m debating my next question when one of the dragon riders steps forward. “Dragon fire?”

~Yes~

Shaky relief flows through me. A dragon can breathe fire over large areas. Potentially, a few dragons could take out hundreds of zombies without ever endangering themselves or their riders. You know, as long as the zombies stay clustered together and aren’t too close to innocent humans.

Still, it’s better than nothing.

The rider meets my gaze, and I see my own relief reflected in his shrewd, weathered face. “That’s a good start. What about regular fire?”

I nod. Great question.

~No~

Fuck.

“Magefire?” Master Cranch asks, and I hold my breath, almost afraid of the answer. Magefire isn’t actually fire, not like what I’ve been teaching my students and that we use in daily life. It’s a magical construct that doesn’t stop burning until the thing it was set on is destroyed. It’s battle magic, and advanced battle magic at that. If you accidentally set magefire on something, that’s it. There’s no way to take it back; no way to save it.

~Yes~

A ripple of reaction goes around the room. Some of the riders and healers are confused, but their companions lean close to explain.

“Anything else?” Master Samoine asks. “Any other weapon we can use, other than your champion?”

~No~

That’s… dire.

“We start preparing,” Master Cranch declares grimly. “Every mage begins training with magefire. There will be no accidents. We need to send messages to those spread across the continent. If they can, they should return here for training.” Not all mages choose to live in the City of Knowledge. Some are assigned to royal courts, and some prefer to live a more everyday life, using their magic to help people—or make profit, depending on how big of an ass they are.

“We can send riders to fetch them,” the dragon rider at my side offers, and my brain finally connects his face with his name: Hearne, the chair of the rider council. “Cut down the time they need to be away from their posts.”

Master Cranch nods. “Thank you. Your riders will be ready?”

Hearne’s smile is thin and probably would frighten small children, but I find it reassuring. “We drill extensively with fire. We’ll confer with the dragons; they may know more, remember more. Any information we have, we will share.”

“It’s settled, then. We train for war. Master Eldridge, will you need additional assistance?”

My mind, racing ahead as I try to work out where I fit into all this, comes to a screeching halt.

“I would prefer to hold off until the professors themselves have received refresher training in magefire. But at that time, the third and fourth years should be capable of picking up the skill without the need for extra instructors. For the second years, I would like to have some additional teachers,” Master Eldrige replies.

“And the first years?” Master Leng asks.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” The words burst from my throat. “Are you insane ?”

“Mage Silverbright,” Master Cranch begins warningly, but I hold up a hand.

“No. With all due respect, there is no way I will ever teach a first year how to use magefire.” What is wrong with these people?

“ You will not be teaching anyone anything,” Master Cranch snaps, his legendary calm finally shattered. “ You will be seeking out the champion who can save us from this all!”

I grind my teeth, even as Master Samoine orders, “Stop. Choose your battles. We need every ounce of magical strength we can get.”

He’s right, I know he’s right, but… I can’t let this go.

“You’ll need to kill me and burn my body to ash before I allow you to put the students you entrusted to me in that much danger. I will fight you on this with every breath I have.”

Master Cranch takes a step back, shaken. I’m not usually so emphatic about things, but I stand resolute. My first years are babies . I work hard every day to keep them alive, to get them to the point where their magic won’t hurt them or anyone else. Teaching them magefire… It would be quicker and more merciful to stab them through their hearts.

“As much as I hate to say it, Talon and I are in agreement on this.” Master Eldridge comes forward, striding across the floor and stopping a few feet from the dais. “The first years are too unstable. If we were closer to the end of the year, I would consider it, but they have been here only a few months. It would be slaughter and would put the whole academy at risk.”

Master Leng still has the temerity to argue. “We need every mage. Every drop of Talent.”

I press my lips together. I’ve said my part. The dean can take up the battle of words, and I’ll save myself for the lambasting I’m going to get later.

“Perhaps a compromise,” Master Eldridge offers, darting a glance at me. “What if the first years were trained in support magic?” His lips twitch at the corners. “Would that be acceptable to you?” He’s looking at Master Leng, but I know he’s asking me.

I think it over. Support magic is exactly what it sounds like: providing your own Talent to another mage for them to direct. It’s tricky to learn when you’re the focus, the one directing the magic, but providing it is fairly simple. It’s normally taught in third year, purely because no student can resist the temptation to try to be the focus, and that leads to disaster.

But I’m confident I can scare my students enough that they won’t dare. Besides, they’ll be so busy sharing their Talent with more senior mages to use in training, they won’t have the time or energy to make trouble.

I tilt my head in the most subtle of nods, and the dean’s face relaxes slightly. In my head, the stone pulses approvingly.

“Perhaps that would be the safer option,” Master Cranch concedes, taking back control of the conversation. “Mage Silverbright,” there’s an acid bite to his voice, “is it within their capabilities?”

“I believe so, with proper instruction.”

“Then while you are preparing for your journey, you will ensure your class is prepared for their new instructor.”

“Of course,” I manage, even though I feel like the bottom just fell out of my world. Because of course they’ll have a new instructor. I have other responsibilities now. But who can I trust to keep them all alive until I get back?

Master Cranch moves on, and I put the question aside for later. My new duties have already begun.

As the discussion about preparations continues, I return to my seat beside the dais, needing some space to think. Something squishes beneath my shoe, and I look down at the remnants of the tiny tart I dropped. I’d forgotten about it, but now pangs of hunger remind me that I was healed earlier and haven’t eaten enough to make up for it.

The stone nudges my mind with approval, so I haul myself out of my chair and go back to the refreshments table. It’s still mostly untouched, but this time, even though I’m hungry, nothing appeals to me. How can it, with the thought of a zombie war weighing on my mind? With the knowledge that I have to somehow, in all the millions of people on the continent, find the one who’s the stone’s champion.

A thought strikes, and I stare at the selection of meringues in horror. What if the champion isn’t from Vaderyn? I’ve never been the adventurous type. Crossing an ocean to visit unfamiliar lands with unfamiliar customs and people isn’t high on my list of fun things to do. It’s not on the list at all.

The soothing reassurance from the stone settles me somewhat, although I’m not sure if it means I won’t have to leave the continent or that I will, but it’ll be okay. Stupid stone with its annoyingly dense means of communication. Annoyed, I randomly grab an assortment of food and take it back to my seat.

I work my way through the whole plateful, keeping half my mind on the discussion and the other half on planning the best way to prepare my students for a new teacher and learning support magic. I’ll have to track down the dean after this and find out who he plans to give my class to, and it had better not be that imbecile, Torgid Hacke. He couldn’t teach his way out of a paper bag, and some of my sneakier students would run rings around him.

“…which I suppose brings us to the question of Mage Silverbright’s journey.”

I snap back to full attention at the mention of my name. Master Cranch has half turned in my direction, and Master Samoine is looking at me expectantly.

“Uh… yes.”

“Have you any thoughts on how you will manage this? Which way will you travel first?”

“South,” I answer promptly. Winter’s already set in at this elevation, and the northern countries will be cold as fuck right now too, but if we head south, the weather will be mild for at least a little longer. The farther south we go, the milder it will be, but my fervent hope is that I’ll find the champion in our nearest neighboring country, Lenle, and be back here before winter hits with full force. From the way my master’s mouth quirks, he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

That’s probably why he turns toward the stone and solemnly asks, “Should Talon go south first?”

Say yes, I urge the stone, even though I know I’ll go anywhere I need to.

~Yes~

Dammit. Did you just say that because I asked you to? I refuse to fuck up this task just because I don’t like the cold.

The flick of contempt from the stone assures me that’s not going to happen.

“South it is,” Master is saying. “We should get you on the road as soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow,” one of the healers suggests, and I commit her face to memory to add to my list of sworn enemies. “I’d say tonight, but he needs more time to properly rest after being healed.”

How very generous of her.

“Not tomorrow,” I insist. “I have some matters to settle here, including my students.”

“This is urgent,” Master Leng begins. “The champion must?—”

“The champion will be found when the stone wants me to find them,” I point out. “It can lead me from here directly to them if it so chooses. We could even ask for some help from a dragon rider and be there in mere hours.”

There are far too many surprised faces for my liking. Did that thought not occur to any of them?

“Could… could a dragon take him directly to the champion?” Master Leng asks the stone cautiously.

~No~

The murmur of disappointment makes me want to bash some heads together. They really, truly hadn’t already considered it? Not even the dragon riders? I look over at Hearne and am relieved to see the frustration I’m feeling mirrored on his face. At least someone’s not lacking their wits.

“Will it matter if Talon delays a day or so?” Master asks the stone.

~No~

Well, thank all the gods for that.

Master’s next question is inspired. “Does he need to travel alone?”

~No~

Relief settles over me like a blanket. I hadn’t even thought of that. Master Cranch gestures. “Who would you like to take, Talon?”

I meet Master’s gaze, and he shakes his head slightly. “No. I’m needed here.”

“Tia.” I say it firmly. I would have argued to take both of them, but if Master won’t come, I won’t go without her.

~Yes~

The stone’s confirmation sets the councilors to murmuring again. Most of them don’t know who I’m talking about, but it’s Master Gao who finally asks, “Who is Tia?”

“Tavia Silverbright,” Rider Kanesha answers, and Hearne smiles.

“Leicht’s rider?” He nods. “An excellent choice.” Pause. “Silverbright? Any relation?”

“My sister.” Here it comes.

“A mage and a rider from the same parents?” His surprise is evident. It’s not uncommon for different Talents to run in families, but usually the same Talent manifests within a single generation. Siblings with different Talents, like me and Tia, are rare.

“They’re twins,” Rider Kanesha adds. There’s a flurry of gasps, and anyone who wasn’t already looking at me like I’m a bug they want to study is now. If siblings with different Talents are rare, twins with different Talents are like golden eggs. Tia and I looked it up once, and the last time it happened was about twelve generations ago.

“A lucky omen,” I hear someone on the healer side of the room say, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Is there anyone else who needs to go with him?” Master Cranch asks briskly, trying to get the situation under control.

~Yes~

Well, shit. Figuring out who it is could take a while.

“But not one of the councilors assembled here?” Master Cranch confirms what the stone said earlier.

~No~

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m tired, I have a lot to do, and I can feel Tia waiting at the edge of my mind—and wow, is she furious. A drawn-out guessing game could take hours.

“Someone I know personally?”

~Yes~

Okay, that narrows it down to… a lot of people.

“In the City of Knowledge?”

~Yes~

Better. At least it’s not my father. That would have been a terrific journey.

“Within the three academies?”

~Yes~

“An initiate?” I’m half hoping for a no on this one—one of the guards or cooks would make for a useful traveling companion.

~Yes~

So much for that.

“Another mage?” I know more mages than anyone else, so that would make the most sense, especially given Tia’s already coming and the type of journey we’re going on.

~No~

I’m a mage. Tia’s a dragon rider. “A healer?” Please don’t tell me the stone is into that kind of hokey unity-of-three kind of symbolism.

~Yes~

I bite back my groan. No need to offend the healers in the room. Master, knowing me as well as he does, smirks in my direction. “A healer you know personally? That will narrow down the list.”

“Yes.” I try to sound happy about it. “But I’m not sure I trust myself to think of every name right now. Could I make a list this evening and come back with it tomorrow?” I’m asking the councilors, but it’s the stone that answers.

~Yes~

Accompanying that is the firm sense of dismissal. Jaws drop, and I cough lightly to keep from laughing.

“It seems as though we’re done here for the day,” Master Cranch says dryly. “We all have enough to be getting started with, I think. Remember, apprentices and other masters only for now, until we can agree on the phrasing of the formal announcement. Would the other chairs please join me in my office so we can work on that?”

Hearne and a tall woman from amongst the healers agree, and then people begin standing, conversation breaking out. Master Samoine snaps closed the box with the stone in it and puts it in his pocket, turning toward me.

“Hey!” The shout cuts through all the other noise in the room. “What are you doing? Put that back.”

It’s Master Janssen, a man I barely know because Master Samoine considers him to be completely intolerable. He’s pushing forward, pointing accusingly.

What…?

“Put the stone back,” he insists. “It’s not yours. The councils should decide fairly who gets to look after it.”

Oh, holy burning gods’ turds. Is he seriously playing childish politics right now? No wonder Master can’t stand him.

Wordlessly, Master Samoine takes the box out of his pocket and puts it back on the lectern, opening it. Then he smiles faintly—disparagingly—at Master Janssen. “Forgive me. Since the stone made its way to me initially, I assumed it wanted me to be its caretaker until the next part of its journey begins.”

The words are humble, but the tone implies that Master Janssen is an attention-seeking imbecile. I love my master so much.

“We don’t have time for this,” Rider Hearne barks, striding forward. “Stone, is Master Samoine your preferred guardian until Mage Silverbright begins his journey?”

~Yes~

“Excellent, that’s settled. Let’s not waste more time on nonsense.”

I eye him with new respect. Say what you will about riders, they have a certain way of getting things done. Too bad about the dragons.

While Master Janssen sputters, my master calmly pockets the box again. “Go now, before anyone can waylay you,” he urges. “Talk to Tia, then come to my chambers.”

I’m already sidling toward the exit. I don’t know how the councilors signal the guards outside, but the heavy doors begin to swing ponderously open, and I’m between them as soon as the gap is wide enough. I flip a quick wave of thanks at the guards, then head for my rooms. Tia’s waiting for me there, and what I have to tell her is best done in person.

It’s going to be a long night.