Wolf in the Fold, page 1
Wolf in the Fold
Schooled in Magic XXVIII
Christopher G. Nuttall
http://www.chrishanger.net
http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall
Cover by Brad Fraunfelter
www.BFillustration.com
Contents
Cover Blurb
Prologue I
Prologue II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Forty
Afterword
Appendix: The Hierarchy
How To Follow
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Author’s Note
Prologue I (Fifteen Years Before the End of the Necromantic Wars)
Prologue II (One Year After the End of the Necromantic Wars)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Cover Blurb
In pursuit of its goals, the Hierarchy has experimented with the darkest magics, backed revolts and magical supremacist regimes, and enslaved countless thousands, using them as living batteries and sources of magic then discarding their husks without a second thought. It has taken Emily’s innovations, magical and magitech alike, and turned them into tools serving a greater goal, a goal that is now taking shape in a long-forgotten city deep within the Blighted Lands, a goal that will lead to apotheosis or nemesis
Racing against time, Emily and her friends set off to reach the city and stop the Hierarchy before it is too late. But the Hierarchy’s goal isn’t what she thinks it is, some of her allies are no longer trustworthy, and the price for saving the world one final time may be beyond even her ...
Prologue I
Only one person knew where the Hierarchical Fortress truly existed, the one person who sat at the top of a hierarchy of powerful, ambitious and unscrupulous magicians. Everyone else only gained access to the complex through magic, using the hierarchical soulmark to set the coordinates and teleport to the right location without ever knowing where they were going. It galled Nine, in so many ways, that she didn’t have the slightest idea where she was, even as she prepared herself for the contest of a lifetime. If she won, she’d be the first amongst magicians; if she lost ...
No. She refused to consider the possibility. She would not – she could not – have issued the challenge if she hadn’t thought she would win, that she would rise to the top herself or confirm, once again, that the one at the top was worthy of his post. The challenge was in the best interests of herself, but also in the best interests of the Hierarchy. The soulmark demanded no less.
She felt nothing but calm anticipation as she made her way through the maze of corridors. There were no adornments in the Hierarchical Fortress, no decorations to remind the occupants of their power and place, nothing those insecure in their rule might need to prove themselves to sceptical eyes. The Hierarchy needed no proof beyond its power; anyone who trod the halls knew where they belonged, beyond all doubt, and cared little for the judgement of others. The stone walls, magic running through them to ensure that none but the Hierarchy ever set foot within the complex, were utterly unmarked, impossible to navigate without the soulmark. She felt it pulse as she reached the top of the stairs and walked down into the bowels of the world. There were no guards. No checkpoints. No one but the Hierarchy ever walked these stairs.
The arena was miles below the ground, a simple stone chamber protected by the strongest and most subtle of spells. Wards flickered on the stone, barely visible even to a skilled magician ... a reminder, once again, that true power lay not in flashy displays but acts that could change the world. Most magicians would overlook the carefully-hidden fortress, she had been assured, if they happened to be searching the area - and the few who might see through the outer layer of deception wouldn’t live long enough to report to their superiors. They wouldn’t be killed or permanently transformed so much as they’d be erased from existence, ensuring that very few remembered they’d existed.
Nine smiled, coldly. If you have enough power, you can do anything. And soon I will have the greatest power of all.
She allowed the smile to linger on her face. The Hierarchy wielded power and influence on a scale few could imagine, keeping its mere existence a secret from most while trading knowledge and power with the few who did know about them in exchange for raw materials or later favours that might be worth two or three times what they’d paid for. The magical families kept the deals, for fear of what would happen if they didn’t; they knew, even as others didn’t believe that the Hierarchy had ever existed, that it had agents scattered across the world, men and women who could extract revenge on anyone who tried to go back on the deal. It was thrilling to realise that she stood at the heart of a locus of power, one that was all the more powerful for being invisible to the average magician, let alone the mundanes. The secret rulers of the world couldn’t be overthrown if no one outside the charmed circle knew they existed, let alone how easily they could pull strings to influence events to their heart’s content.
The soulmark burnt, briefly, as she waited, taking a long breath as the seconds ticked by. It had been nearly forty years since she’d been recruited, thirty since she’d passed the final tests in the school and graduated to take the soulmark and become a true Hierarchist. She had lost track of the classmates she’d killed or sacrificed in a desperate struggle for power, long forgotten any sense of morality she had ever had ... she’d even forgotten her name and family, when the soulmark had been bound to her. The memories darted through her mind – a weak girl whose only use had been as a sacrifice, a boy who had been bound to her service – and vanished again. The world was red in tooth and claw, a reality the Hierarchy refused to pretend didn’t exist even as the magical families and monarchies clung to their warped moralities. There was no right or wrong, no objective sense of justice, merely power and the will to seize it, to take the world by the throat and bend it to your will. Today, she would rise to her apotheosis or embrace her nemesis. Either way, the Hierarchy won.
Magic flickered through the air. Zero stood there, watching her with an utterly unreadable expression. He looked completely harmless, a doddering old man far past his prime, but Nine refused to be fooled. Being underestimated was always safer, in the long run, and few survived an encounter with the most powerful magician in the known world. His white hair and wrinkled skin masked true power, his footsteps echoing with surprising purpose even as he leaned on a cane. If he truly needed it, Nine would be astonished. Zero had more than enough raw power to prolong his life for centuries.
She didn’t know his story. She guessed it was very like her own.
Zero straightened, his eyes lingering on her. “You have come to challenge?”
“Yes.” Nine felt her heart begin to race, even as she prepared herself for the greatest fight of her life. The soulmark prevented all underhanded techniques, from poison to blackmail, ensuring she had to play fair and follow the rules. She needed to win through raw power and magical cleverness, not cheating. The restriction made sense. If she wanted to win, she had to deserve it. “I have come to take my place at the top.”
Zero smiled. “And you have not yet reached your limit?”
Nine took a breath. She’d been a Thousand, then a Hundred, and finally climbed up into the Ten. She had had her ups and downs, she couldn’t deny it, but she’d never run into anything that could stop her climb. Her path was marked with dead bodies, the two Hierarchists she’d killed to claim their former places and countless others, people who’d served more as raw materials for her spells than anything meaningful. She cared nothing for them, merely for her climb to the top. The very highest level was beckoning to her. And all she had to do to take it was to kill the man in front of her.
“No.” Nine met his eyes evenly. “I have not.”
“Very good,” Zero said. His tone was sincere. He too was devoted to the goals of the Hierarchy. His soulmark would allow no less. If she was his superior, it was right and proper she should take his place. His death was unfortunate, but she had to gamble everything to win everything. “If that is your choice, step into the ring.”
Nine didn’t hesitate. She could have backed out at any moment, remaining a lowly Thousand, or Hundred, or even a Ten. Or she could have retired, giving up her rank and settling into a comfortable life where her subordinates weren’t trying to kill her. The thought wasn’t remotely tempting, not when the very highest post of all was within her sight. She wanted, she needed, to claim it for herself. She could no more back down than she could cut her own throat.
She stepped forward, feeling magic envelop her the moment she crossed the line. They’d unleash terrible forces in their bid for supremacy, but those forces would be contained within the wards. The fortress itself would remain unharmed, waiting for its new mistress to claim her throne. Anticipation swelled within her as she felt her magic rising to the challenge, a hundred new spells preparing to kill. She had pushed the limits as far as they could go, incorporating lessons from the New Learning and Magitech into her preparations. Zero was not someone to underestimate, of course, but using Magitech concepts would catch him by surprise. Decades, perhaps centuries, of experience couldn’t have prepared him for a new branch of magic that was only a couple of years old.
“It is time,” Zero said. He couldn’t decline the challenge, nor could he surrender. His soulmark made sure of it. “Let us see ...”
He stepped across the line. Nine didn’t hesitate. She raised her power and cast the first set of spells in one smooth motion, a combination of lethal and illusionary spells crackling against his wards. She hadn’t expected it to work, as she certainly hadn’t expected to win in the first few moments, but knocking him off balance could only work in her favour. She’d woven cancelation charms into her barrage, hoping to cripple his retaliatory strike. There was no way to take his prepared spells down completely, not without knowing how to break into his protective aura, but ...
She blinked as the spellware simply came apart, spell components and incants sparkling in front of her before shattering into nothingness. No ... being absorbed, her neatest tricks taken to pieces, studied in the blink of an eye and then added to Zero’s own skills. A flicker of doubt ran through her as she cast a second set of spells, resorting to brute force while preparing something a great deal more subtle. Raw magic crashed around Zero, bouncing off the wards and spiralling through the air ... his hands moved in a simple pattern, absorbing or channelling the power she’d thrown at him. It was an impressive demonstration of his abilities, a sight few had seen and fewer still could master. Nine wondered, just for a second, if she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d unleashed enough power to shatter a town and he was playing with it as if it were water.
But she was committed now.
She reached for her magic and crashed forward, using herself as a decoy while trying to inch spells around behind him and slip into his back, tearing his charms apart from the rear. Zero stepped forward, his raw magic slamming into hers, challenging her on multiple levels and pushing her to her breaking point. Nine kept forcing herself forward, knowing there was no other way out, and felt his wards start to shatter. She was breaking through!
She felt a moment of relief, of victory, before his face shifted and started to change. Horror ran through her as she stared at her worst nightmare, at ... she realised, too late, that they’d all been fooled, that she’d made a dreadful mistake. The Hierarchy wasn’t what they’d thought it was and now ... she was doomed. There was no escape. Multicoloured light flared around her, a final mocking reminder of her failure ...
And then the world went away in a final – endless – moment of pure agony.
Prologue II
The knife felt solid, real in his hand.
Resolute stared at the blade for a long moment, willing himself to muster the nerve to stab himself in the chest or cut his own throat or something, anything, other than living the rest of his life a powerless mundane, a helpless beggar on the streets of a town so far from Celeste it had never impinged on his awareness. He didn’t even know the town’s name, when his desperate flight from Zugzwang had taken him down the river and into the larger town, but ... he stared at the blade and lowered it, unable to force himself to take that final step. He had fallen as far as a magician could and yet he couldn’t end it. He was a failure, one so complete he couldn’t even kill himself. His existence was over and yet it would never end.
Despairing, he sagged to his knees. He’d never known what it was like to live on the streets, not until he’d been stripped of his power and tossed out to live life as a powerless mundane. His fine clothes had been stolen long ago, the handful of garments he now wore were so disgusting that he could no longer bear his own smell. The good food and drink he’d enjoyed back home was nothing but a memory, forcing him to beg for something – anything – to stay alive. He’d learned harsh lessons in the last week, learnt to spend what little money he had before it was stolen, learnt to keep his food to himself ... learnt that no matter what happened, there was always further to fall. Two gangs of beggars had kicked him out, while a third had demanded a price he was unwilling to pay, if he wanted to shelter with them. And yet, part of him knew it was just a matter of time before hunger and cold drove him back to them, to offer anything they wanted in exchange for a few hours of warmth. It was an unbearable thought.
He’d ruled a city. Now, he was a beggar.
Sheer hatred burned through Resolute, mingled with shame. There was no one he could turn to for help. None of his old clients would lift a finger to assist him, if they knew what had happened. He’d preached the gospel of the strong having the right to dominate the weak for so long that he had no doubts about what would happen to him, now that he was one of the weak. His old allies would laugh, then turn away to keep from losing their power themselves. A magician who lost his magic was an object of scorn and pity, a cripple in a world that was very unkind to those with disabilities, and no one dared look too closely for fear it was catching. For all he knew, it might be. He had thought himself the epitome of magical power and yet Emily had stolen his magic, leaving him helpless and alone.
She hadn’t killed him. He knew it hadn’t been an act of mercy.
The hatred grew stronger, mingled with helplessness. Emily was powerful, personally and politically, and now he had no power at all. He knew the way to her tower, he knew enough tricks to get through the outer layer of defences, and ... and then what? She could destroy him with the flick of a finger, or turn him into a slug, or something – anything – he couldn’t hope to stop. Perhaps she would curse him, as so many mundane residents of his city – his former city – had been cursed. It had seemed funny back then, little tricks to put the mundanes in their places and remind them they only lived in the city of sorcerers through sufferance. Now ... he knew better. It wasn’t funny at all. But it was far too late.
He clenched his fists, then opened his fingers and moved them in a simple pattern. It was a very simple spell and his movements were perfect, but nothing happened. Of course not. He’d lost his magic, leaving him begging for scraps while Emily took his city for herself. He had no idea what was happening in Celeste, nor did he know how to get back there, but he knew power all too well. Emily would take the city, because she had power and knew how to use it. Resolute had no idea why she’d pretended not to be the inventor of Magitech – the idea of a mundane inventing a whole new branch of magic was just absurd – but it hardly mattered. She would take the city and reshape it in her image, while he lived and died on the streets of a nameless town. He shivered. It was supposed to be summer, so he’d been told, and yet it was cold. He didn’t know if he’d live through the winter.
She has my daughter too, he thought, helplessness gnawing at his mind. He knew what he’d do to the child of a rival, and he knew Emily would do no less. She’ll ruin her life because she can and ...
“My,” a calm voice said. “A bit of a come down, isn’t it?”
Resolute flinched. He’d spent most of his life in warded chambers, places where even a powerful magician would have trouble entering without setting off the alarms. He hadn’t grown used to the sheer lack of safety on the streets, even in alleyways. The thugs who’d stolen his clothes and beaten him up had taken him by surprise, and yet ... it wouldn’t have mattered if he had had any warning. They would have still thumped him. He was surprised they hadn’t killed him.
The man behind him was a stranger, he realised numbly. White hair, kindly face ... probably a mask hiding a far darker reality. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. It could easily be both.
