She levelled the flintlock at Randor. Emily stared, torn between horror and a grim awareness that Randor’s death–now–might mean the end of the war. Randor looked back at them, his gaze firmly fixed on his daughter. The entire world seemed to stand still for a long timeless moment, as if it was waiting to see if Alassa would pull the trigger or not. Emily’s mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say…
And then a force punch crashed into them both, blasting them off the platform–the wood smashed to splinters under the impact–and throwing them across the square and into the ground. Emily barely managed to cast a cushioning spell in time to save them from the worst of the impact, her magic still performing oddly under the lingering traces of the durian potion. Matilda had saved her king, Emily realized dully. She’d saved Randor’s life and prolonged the war and…
At least Alassa didn’t have to shoot her father, Emily thought, as she turned and peered towards the pavilion. Randor was gone, as if he’d never been; a number of his guards were missing too. He’d probably departed the moment he could leave without looking like a coward in front of his daughter. She won’t have that on her conscience.
She scowled at the thought. The Nameless World placed a high value on family, although Alassa would hardly be the first royal child to rebel against his or her parents. Rebelling was one thing, actually killing them was quite another. Better to make it look like an accident, something that could be blamed on one’s underlings, than something blatantly obvious…it made her sick.
The sound of shooting grew louder as someone ran up behind her. “Emily,” Jade said. “We need to move!”
Emily looked at Cat and Matilda, still locked in their battle. Cat was doing well, she thought, but Matilda was more than holding her own. Emily couldn’t help thinking that Cat was going to lose, badly…she glanced at Jade, then looked around her. The soldiers were retreating in the direction of the castle–there were plumes of smoke rising up all over the city–but it would only be a matter of time before they regrouped and counterattacked. Whoever was in charge hadn’t made a bad call.
Unless Randor decides that any hint of retreat is cowardice and must be punished, she thought. Randor had just watched his daughter take aim at him, preparing to fire. His mind might have snapped altogether. That commander might be executed for issuing pragmatic orders.
She glanced at Jade. “Take Alassa and go,” she said, mustering her magic. “I…I’ll meet you at the dockyard inn.”
Jade looked pale. “Emily…”
“Go,” Emily ordered. “This will all be for nothing if Alassa gets killed!”
She shoved them towards the nearest side-street, then looked around. There were hundreds of bodies, more bodies than she’d seen since Farrakhan…she tried, hard, not to be sick as she shaped a spell in her mind. Matilda was intensely focused on Cat, throwing spell after spell in a desperate attempt to wear down his defenses. Emily was impressed, despite herself; she hadn’t seen anyone, save for Void, spellcasting so rapidly. Matilda was clearly someone special.
One measly civil war in the whole history of England and I’m on the wrong bloody side, Edmund Blackadder whispered in her memory. She’s on the wrong side too.
She braced herself, then hurled the spell directly at Matilda. It struck her wards, hammering against her shields while simultaneously trying to break through the weaker points within her spellware. Matilda reacted with lightning speed, throwing back a series of fireballs to make Emily duck as she shattered her own wards and rebuilt them before Cat could take advantage of her sudden weakness. Emily gritted her teeth, feeling her magic surging free, demanding release. She didn’t want to face Matilda again, but she had no choice.
A dark figure flew through the air, one finger pointed at Emily. A spell snapped free a moment later, slamming into Emily’s wards. Emily couldn’t help thinking of a ninja as the figure landed, his entire body shrouded in a black suit that hid even his eyes. She hastily reached out with her senses, trying to get a sense of her opponent’s power. He wasn’t that powerful–it struck her, again, that he might be a she–but he knew how to use what he had to best advantage. His magic was intensely focused, with hardly any leakage. She couldn’t help finding his discipline a little impressive.
And I can’t afford to trade spells with him, she thought. King Randor would have dispatched other sorcerers, surely. I don’t have time.
She summoned her magic, then slammed it into her opponent’s wards. He altered his wards, trying to deflect her power away, but she was ready for him. The weak points, suddenly clear, were easy to strike with her magic. His wards shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving him defenseless. A dozen nasty ideas ran through her head before she stunned him, allowing his body to fall to the ground. He’d be out of it for the next few hours.
More figures appeared, wearing the same black outfits. Emily ducked a force punch that would have badly dented her wards, at the very least, then blasted her new opponent right across the square. A third sorcerer appeared, his magic reaching out to grab her; she thrust her power out, shattering his magic as she leapt backwards. The second sorcerer threw a pair of fireballs–somehow, he’d managed to land on his feet–and she deflected them at his comrade. He caught them on his shields and paused, clearly gauging her as she was gauging him.
Or stalling, Emily thought. Randor would have sent most of his sorcerers to the front, but they might have been recalled by now. They’re waiting for reinforcements.
She risked a glance at Cat and Matilda. He was fighting hard, but it was clear that he was slowly losing. Matilda was still pounding away at his wards, while his counterspells didn’t seem to be having much effect on her. Emily wracked her brain, searching for a solution…there had to be something. They couldn’t flee for their lives while Matilda and the other sorcerers were right behind them.
A thought struck her. She summoned a force punch and threw it at Matilda, relying on the spell’s sheer power to hide the second spell. Matilda deflected it with ease, the blast spiralling harmlessly into the clear blue sky. Emily ducked a blow from the black-clad sorcerer, hoping that her second spell had gone unnoticed. It wouldn’t slow Matilda down for very long, if at all, but it might give them a fighting chance.
The third sorcerer came forward, power surging out towards her. Emily felt her patience snap. She reached inside her for all the magic she could muster, shaped it into a complex set of spells and hurled it at him. His defenses seemed to hold, just for a second, then shattered as the second and third spells tore them apart. Emily smiled, tiredly, as the fourth spell turned him into a frog. It was a childish end, she knew, but she barely had the energy to do anything else. She’d worn herself out again.
Matilda snorted, then let out a yelp of alarm as the ground started to move and break beneath her feet. Vines sprouted out of the ground, growing with terrifying speed as they reached up to coil around her hands and feet. Matilda barely had a second to snap out a spell–the wrong one–before she was pulled down. Emily took a moment to appreciate the sight–and silently bless Adana for inventing the spell–before she grabbed Cat’s arm. Matilda was still dangerous. They had to put as much distance as they could between them and her before she broke free. Her magic was already snapping away at the vines.
And we don’t even have time to try to kill her, Emily thought. She wasn’t sure she could muster the energy to light a fire, let alone crack Matilda’s wards and finish the job. We have to outrun her.
Cat laughed, throwing a force punch at the sole remaining sorcerer. The young man was blasted into a wall, falling to the ground and landing hard. Emily hoped he’d have the sense to stay down, if he hadn’t been knocked out. She took one last look at Matilda, then yanked Cat down the nearest alleyway, casting obscurification charms all the way. Matilda would have to come after them the old-fashioned way if she wanted to find them.