Schooled in Magic

Comments would be welcome, natually.


Chapter One



The wave of dizziness struck without warning as she walked home from school. Emily screwed her eyes tightly shut as the world spun around her, wondering if she’d drunk something she shouldn't have during the role-playing session with the nerds and geeks at her high school. She would have thought that they were too shy to ever try to spike her drink, but perhaps one of them had brought in alcohol and she’d drunk it by mistake. The sound of giggling – faint, but unmistakable – echoed in the air as her senses swam, followed by an abrupt sensation of falling. And then the strange sensation simply faded away.



When her eyes opened, she was standing in a very different place.



Emily recoiled in shock, glancing around in horror. She was standing in the middle of a stone-walled cell, staring at a door that seemed to be made of solid iron. Half-convinced she was hallucinating – perhaps it hadn't been alcohol that she’d drunk, after all – she stumbled forward until her fingers were pressed against the door. It felt cold and alarmingly real to her senses. There was no handle in the door for her to open, no place for her to try to prise the door open and escape. The room felt depressingly like a prison cell.



Swallowing hard, Emily ran her fingers over the stonework, feeling faint tingles as her fingertips touched the mortar binding the wall together. It felt like the castles she’d visited on a trip to Scotland, the buildings that had been constructed long before concrete or other modern building materials had enabled the artists to use their imagination properly. There was a faint sense of age pervading through the stone, as if it was hundreds of years old. It certainly felt hundreds of years old.



Where was she? Desperately, Emily looked from wall to wall, seeking a way out of the cell. But there was nothing, not even a window; the only source of light was a tiny lantern hanging from the ceiling. There was no bed, no place for her to lay her head; not even a pallet of straw like she’d seen in the historical recreations she’d attended with her drama group. And how had she come to be in the cell? Had she been arrested? Impatiently, she dismissed the thought as silly. The Police wouldn't have put her in a stone cell – and they wouldn't have had to spike her drink to arrest her. A hundred scenarios her mother had warned her about ran though her mind; her captor could be a rapist, or a serial killer, or a kidnapper intent on using her to extort money from her parents. Emily would have laughed at the thought a day ago – her stepfather wouldn't have paid anything to recover her from a kidnapper – but it wasn't so funny now. What would a kidnapper do when he discovered that he’d kidnapped a worthless girl?



A clatter rang through the cell, coming from outside the door, and she looked up sharply. Emily would have sworn that the iron door was solid, but all of a sudden a tiny hatch had appeared in the metal and a pair of gleaming red eyes were peering in at her. There was something so utterly inhuman about them that Emily recoiled, convinced that they belonged to a monster – or a devil. There was a second rattle at the door and it seemed to blur, before it was replaced by a set of iron bars revealing a hooded figure standing outside the cell. His eyes, half-hidden under his hood, seemed to glow with an eerie red light. The rest of his face was obscured in darkness.



Behind him, there were more stone walls – and a pair of skeletons, standing against the wall as if they’d been left there to rot. Something about them caught Emily’s attention before she saw the first skeleton begin to move, walking forward as if it were still flesh and blood. The second skeleton turned its head until it was looking directly at Emily, the sightless eye-sockets seeming to peer deep into her soul. Emily felt her blood running cold, suddenly convinced, right to the very core of her being, that this was no ordinary kidnapping. She was a very long way from home.



“Welcome,” the hooded figure said. There was something cracked and broken about his voice, almost as if he hadn't spoken for a very long time and had lost the knack. “You may call me Shadye.”



He spoke his name as if Emily should know it, but it meant nothing to her. She tried to speak, but discovered that her mouth was so dry that speaking was impossible. Shadye stepped forward, up against the bars, and studied her thoughtfully. His red eyes seemed to flicker over her body, before meeting her eyes and holding them for a long chilling second.



Emily forced herself to speak. All the novels she’d read about kidnapped heroines suggested that she should try to get the kidnapper to see her as a human being – although she was far from convinced that Shadye himself was a human being. The fantasy books she’d devoured in an attempt to hide from her father’s departure and her mother’s desperate search for a second husband seemed to be mocking her inside her skull. It could be a trick, perhaps a reality TV show, but something in her mind was convinced that it was real. Besides, she couldn't see any TV cameras anywhere.



“How...” She broke into coughs and had to swallow, again. “How did you bring me here?”



Shadye seemed oddly pleased by the question. “They said that there would be a Child of Destiny who would lead the forces of light against the Harrowing,” he said. Emily realised suddenly that he wanted to gloat, to show off his own cleverness. “But I knew that every prophecy has a loophole. I knew that if I could catch that Child of Destiny before it was her time, I could use her against the cursed Alliance and defeat them utterly.”



Emily felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. “But I am not that person...”



“No Child of Destiny knows who she is until their time has come,” Shadye informed her. “But the Faerie know, oh yes they know. And I called for them to bring me the Child of Destiny and they have brought me you.”



He rubbed his hands together in glee. “And now I have you in my hands,” he said. “The Harrowing will be pleased.”



“Right,” Emily said. Her, a Child of Destiny? Only in the literal sense...and she doubted that Shadye would believe her if she tried to explain it. “And I guess I’m not in Kansas any longer?”



“You are in the Blighted Lands of the Dead, on the southern face of the Craggy Mountains,” Shadye said. “Where is this...Kansas place you speak of?”



Emily started to answer, and then stopped herself. “If you don’t know that,” she said, trying to keep her growing fear under control, “I really am no longer in Kansas.”



Shadye shrugged, the motion stirring his robe. Emily frowned inwardly as she saw the way the cloth moved over his body, disturbed in a manner she found almost impossible to comprehend. It was impossible to see what lay beneath his robe, but there was something about the way he moved that suggested that he was no longer entirely human. A very faint shimmer of light seemed to surround him, half-seen forms flickering in and out of existence – and, as half-seen, all the more disturbing to her imagination.



This is real, Emily told herself. It was no longer possible to believe that she was standing in the middle of a TV studio, with hidden cameras recording everything she said and did. There was something so real about the scene that it terrified her. Shadye believed that she was the person he’d been searching for and nothing she could say, or do, could convince him otherwise. She thought of all the fictional heroes she’d known and loved, asking herself what they would do. But they had the writer on their side. She had nothing, but her own wits.



Shadye snapped his fingers and the iron bars melted away into dust. Before Emily could do anything, the skeletons stepped forward and marched into the cell, their eye-less sockets firmly locked on Emily’s face. She cringed back as the bony hands, so eerie without flesh and blood, caught her shoulders and propelled her forward, no matter how she struggled. The sorcerer’s servants didn't seem to notice, or care, as she kicked out at them. Their bones seemed held together with magic.



“You don't have to do this,” she said, as she was marched out of the cell. “I...”



Shadye cackled, a high-pitched sound that chilled her to the bone. “Your death will bring me all the power I could use,” he said. Emily redoubled her struggles, but the skeletons never loosened their grip. “Why should I let you live when I would remain like this?”



He pulled his hood away from his face in one convulsive motion. Emily stared, horrified; Shadye’s skin was pulled so tightly around his skull that she could see the bones underneath, his nose cut away, replaced by a melted mass of burned flesh. His eyes were burning coals of red light, shining in the darkened chamber, utterly inhuman. She saw his hand as he lifted it to stroke his hairless chin and winced at the cuts that criss-crossed his flesh. Emily had seen horror movies, ones where the directors strived to outdo themselves in creating new horrors, but this was different. This was real. She took a deep breath and smelled dead flesh in the atmosphere surrounding him. It was easy to believe that his body was dying, animated only by his will – and magic.



“There is always a price for power,” Shadye said. His voice darkened, unpleasantly. “But there are always ways to escape the price. And when I offer you to the Harrowing...oh, they will rebuild my burned frame and grant me power eternal.”



He turned and strode off down the corridor, pulling his hood back up to cover his head. Emily stared after him, just before the skeletons started to push her down the corridor after him. Resistance seemed utterly futile, but she struggled anyway, feeling panic giving her extra strength. Just for a moment, she broke free of their grip and turned to run, before there was a flash of blue light and her muscles locked, sending her falling to the floor. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't move anything below the neck; the skeletons picked her up and carried her after Shadye.



The sorcerer started to laugh. “I told you where you are,” he said, mockingly. “Even if you had escaped my dungeons, where would you have gone?”



He was right, Emily realised. She’d never heard of the Craggy Mountains, let alone the Blighted Land of the Dead. And he had never heard of Kansas. No matter how she wanted to avoid it, she had to accept the fact that she had been – somehow – transported from her own world to one where magic worked, where skeletons could be used as servants and an evil sorcerer could sacrifice her for power. She was utterly alone, ignorant of even something as basic as local geography. Shadye was right; even if she did escape, where would she go?



They reached a stairwell leading upwards into the darkness. Shadye seemed unbothered by the lack of illumination, as did the skeletons, but Emily found it hard to restrain her panic as they climbed upwards and onwards, while she was unable to see the stone walls. Her legs bumped against the walls from time to time, the spell binding her holding her body as firmly as ever, just before they finally walked out into the open air. The ground below their feet was mud...no, she realised suddenly; it was ash. She sniffed and shuddered at the stench of burned flesh in the air. In the distance, she caught sight of what had once been a forest. Now, it looked as if something had killed the trees, leaving their dead remains standing in the midst of the darkness.



“The Necromancer Kings faced the assembled might of the Empire not too far from here,” Shadye said, with heavy satisfaction. “They say that the skies were black with dragons and terrible lizards as they fought for forty days and forty nights. In the end, so much magic was released that the land was permanently warped by chaos. Those who stray into these lands without protection find themselves twisted and transformed into horrors. Few dare to visit my fortress, even though they believe that they have powers that can match my own.”



Emily found her voice. “Why did they fight?”



“The Necromancer Kings wished to enjoy their powers without restraint, to create a world where their whims and wishes would be the whole of the law,” Shadye said. “But the Empire and their wizards believed the necromancers to be an abomination. They believed that they had won, yet the Harrowing can never be stopped. All they could do was delay it, for a time.”



He stopped and muttered a series of words under his breath. There was a brilliant flash of light, bright enough to make Emily screw her eyes closed against the glare. When she reopened her eyes, she saw a large building made out of dark stone right in front of them, as if it had been there all along. Perhaps it had been invisible, she told herself, taking some measure of comfort from the thought. If Shadye had had to hide his dark temple, or whatever it was, it suggested that someone was watching for him. Maybe he’d been lying when he’d claimed that no one came into the Blighted Lands of the Dead.



The skeletons carried her forward and into an opening that seemed to appear out of nowhere, an instant before her head would have slammed into the stone. Inside, there was a sense of overpowering vastness, as if the building was much larger than she could comprehend. The smell of blood assailed her nostrils; a moment later, she saw great waves of red blood washing down the walls and pooling on the ground. Shadye seemed unbothered by walking through the blood, bowing from time to time towards statues that seemed to appear out of nowhere, only to vanish again when they’d walked past. They were disturbing; oddly, the ones that seemed most human were the most disturbing. One of them, a stone carving of a handsome man with sharp pointy ears, was impossible to look at directly. Another, an eldritch horror out of nightmares, seemed almost friendly by contrast.



“There,” Shadye said. He reached into his robe and produced a sharp black knife, carved from stone. “Place her on the altar.”



Emily opened her mouth to protest, but it was futile. The altar was a simple stone block, easily large enough to accommodate her; the skeletons placed her on the stone and stepped backwards, almost as if they were admiring their work. Somehow, the simple lack of carvings on the altar was even more terrifying than the horrors she could see in the distance; it struck her, suddenly, that there was no doubt to whom the altar was dedicated. She tried to recall the prayers she'd learned as a child, but nothing came to mind. This was a place beyond the sight of God.



“We begin,” Shadye said. He started to chant as he waved the knife in the air. Emily couldn't understand a single word, but she felt the gathering power in the chamber, as if someone – or something – was slowly pressing itself into existence. Brilliant tingles of light seemed to dance over her head, slowly fading into a darkness so complete that it sucked up the light that seemed to come from all around her. In the last moments of gloom, she saw new statues – savage-faced angels – that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.



Shadye stopped chanting. Absolute silence fell, as if the unseen watchers were waiting for the final command. The summoned presence hung on the air, its mere existence twisting reality around it. Emily saw something within the darkness, a hidden movement that seemed to be only present within the corner of her eye. Shadye stepped forward, one hand holding the knife as he raised it up and over Emily’s heart...



...And then there was a brilliant flash of light. The summoned presence simply vanished. Shadye bit out a word that Emily was sure was a curse and ducked as a bolt of lightning sliced through the air, over Emily’s prone position, and over his head. She twisted her head as another flash of light lit up the chamber, revealing another dark-clad form standing at the far end of the room. Darkness fell for a second; the third flash of light showed the figure much closer, followed by the monstrous angel statues. They moved when she wasn’t looking.



“No,” Shadye snapped. He lifted his hand, plucked a fireball out of empty air and threw it at the newcomer, who lifted a staff and deflected it away into the darkened reaches of the chamber. “You will not cheat me!”



A second later, the newcomer tossed a spell of his own and Shadye vanished in a flash of light. The spell holding Emily to the altar snapped at the same instant, allowing her to move again. She sat up, just in time to see the newcomer racing towards her, his face hidden behind a wooden mask, illuminated by a ball of light that floated into the air. He reached for her and she drew back, suddenly unsure of what he wanted. Shadye had wanted to sacrifice her; what would the newcomer want?



“Take my hand if you want to live,” the newcomer said. The darkness was flooding in from all sides, pushing in around them as if it were a living thing. “Come with me or die!”



Emily didn't hesitate. She took his hand and the dark chamber vanished in a final blinding flash of white light.

Chapter Two



The brilliant light faded away and she was standing in the middle of a very different room.



“Welcome to my Tower,” her rescuer said. “Don’t worry; Shadye can’t get you here.”



Emily nodded, feeling her knees threatening to buckle as she looked around. The room was large, but crammed with strange devices and bubbling pots of liquid that looked as if they were on the verge of permanently bubbling over. Dark lines had been drawn on the floor, creating patterns that seemed to change every time she looked at them. Brilliant light was streaming in from a massive window, bright enough to suggest high noon. But it had been dark just a moment ago...



“Here,” her rescuer said. He passed her a glass of clear liquid. “You may need this to calm yourself.”



Emily hesitated. All her life, she’d been told that she shouldn’t take gifts from strangers – but she did need a drink. And besides, if he wanted to poison her, he could probably have done it without forcing her to drink anything. The water was cold, almost tasteless, but it was refreshing. He nodded to a pair of seats below the window and Emily walked over to them, peering out of the window down towards a green and pleasant landscape. Everywhere she looked, there were forests and lakes – and no sign of human life at all. The ground seemed to shimmer with magic.



She caught herself and looked back at the newcomer. “Who are you?”



“You need to know one rule right from the start,” the man said, as he removed his hood. “Do not, ever, ask a sorcerer his name. Ask instead what he would like to be called.”



Emily sucked in her breath as he looked up at her. He looked surprisingly young, with a handsome face and a shock of brown hair, but there was something in the way he moved that nagged at her mind. It took her several seconds to realise that he wore a young body, yet walked in the manner of an older man. His lanky body seemed almost as strange to him as it did to her.



He smiled at her, and she suddenly felt reassured. “You may call me Void, if you like,” he said. “Please, be seated. You must have many questions.”



“Yes,” Emily said. Hundreds were tumbling through her mind. “What...what did you do to him?”



“Shadye?” Void seemed to smile. “I turned him into a newt.” His smile faded away into a grim expression that seemed more natural to him. Sadly, I fear that he will get better.”



Emily stared at him. “Why didn't you squash him while you had the chance?”



“His protective wards wouldn't have slipped that far,” Void said. “I couldn't have sneaked the attack in at all if he hadn't been in the Inverse Shadow. He had to lower part of his guard just to enter the building.”



He grinned, suddenly. “But I got you out,” he added, with a childish grin of triumph. “My old master would be turning in his grave. If he was in his grave.”



Emily had to smile back, and then collected herself. “Right,” she said. “Where am I?”



Void didn’t seem surprised at the question. “You’re in my Tower, located on the edge of the Greenwood, in the Southern Marches of Barcia,” he said. He studied her face for a long moment, thoughtfully. “But that means nothing to you, unless I miss my guess.”



“No,” Emily said. Inwardly, she was reeling. Where was she? “Shadye said he brought me here.”



“He did,” Void confirmed. He paused, just for a second. “Actually, he ordered creatures from the worlds between the world to deliver him a person fitting specific criteria. They brought him you.”



Emily shook her head in disbelief. “And why me?” She asked. “What makes me so special?”



A third question appeared in her mind a second later. “And how can I get home?”



Void hesitated, and then attempted to answer her. “I only sensed your arrival in this world, so I confess that I don’t know why Shadye thought that you were important,” he admitted. “As to getting you home...it may not be possible. It may never be possible.”



There was something in the way he said it that kept her from realising his true meaning for almost a minute. “I can never go home?”



The thought staggered her. Her life hadn't been a good one; her mother drinking herself to death, her stepfather unpleasant and abusive whenever he cared to remember that he had a stepdaughter, but it had been her life. She had her books, the company of the nerds and geeks whenever she wanted to play games, and a bright future ahead of her...



...Or had she? Her teenage years would have ended with her going to college, and then perhaps searching for a job. She would never really be able to live her own life, nor find a position that suited her; she knew from older acquaintances that it wasn't easy to find a job, let alone make ends meet in the adult world. One day, all the skills she’d learned at school would be utterly unimportant. The only consolation was that those who had ruled the school through being popular, pretty or sporty would be even less important.



And it was hard to escape the thought that no one would miss her now that she was gone.



“The problem is locating the world that birthed you,” Void admitted. “If we were to open a gateway into the worlds beyond to locate your homeworld, the necromancers would have their chance to interfere with the magic, perhaps killing you or the conjurers. Even if they didn’t, searching for your world might attract attention from beings that live outside the normal walls of our reality...”



Emily remembered the dark presence in the Inverse Shadow and shuddered. “So I can never go home,” she said, softly. In some ways, having no choice made it easier. “Why did Shadye think that I was a Child of Destiny?”



Void’s eyes went very wide. “He thought that you were a Child of Destiny?”



“He said I was,” Emily confessed. “But my mother was called Destiny.”



Void stared at her for a long moment, and then burst out laughing. “Shadye would have been in for a shock when he finished sacrificing you,” he said. “The Dark Gods would not have thanked him for your soul.”



Emily didn't understand the joke. “But he would have killed me!”



Void nodded. “My guess is that one of the criteria I mentioned was that you would be a Child of Destiny,” he said. “But the creatures that inhabit the worlds beyond are mischievous, prone to reinterpreting orders if they’re not very specific. A Child of Destiny...if he didn't bother to clarify what that actually meant, they might have gone after you instead. But you’d still meet the other criteria.”



He studied her for a long moment. “Wizards have been attempting to use magic to foretell the future for thousands of years,” he added. “It rarely works very well, because the future is constantly in flux. Sometimes knowing about a possible future destroys it; sometimes knowing what is in store makes it inevitable. Even the best of wizards will leave the future to take care of itself.



“But we do know that some people are born to be at the heart of history. Those people will make decisions that reshape destiny, that completely alter the future. If Shadye had offered you to his dark lords, they would have rewarded him with power beyond imagination.” His smile flickered back into existence. “But Shadye has a great deal of imagination.”



Emily rubbed her eyes, trying to comprehend what he was telling her. “But I don’t have any say in what happens,” she said, finally. “Back home, I was nothing.”



“No one is ever nothing,” Void said, cryptically. “The Children of Destiny are rarely seen in advance; sometimes, we only ever realise that they were there in hindsight. Who would have thought that the lowly goatherd Avon would become the linchpin of an alliance that would push the necromancers back into the dark lands? In hindsight, we know that he was living at the crux point – and if they’d killed him before his time, the necromancers would have had the world.”



“Or if they’d convinced him to join them,” Emily guessed. Void nodded. “Or if he’d fled from the battlefield...”



“Precisely,” Void said. He stood up and looked up, out of the window. “Do you know that there are more necromancers in this world than there are any other kind of magician?”



Emily rolled her eyes. She’d barely been in the new world for more than an hour, maybe two; how could she have hoped to learn anything about its history, culture or geography? Shadye certainly hadn't been interested in educating her. How did Void expect her to know anything?



“The only thing that keeps them from crushing us is that we can work together and the necromancers are unable to cooperate very well,” Void explained, without looking back at her. “Every one of them believes that his rivals would stick a knife in his back the moment he looked away. They have good reason not to trust one another either...”



He turned and looked down at her. “They are still gaining in power,” he said. “Three years ago, the Kingdom of Gondar was overrun by their forces and the population enslaved. All our efforts could do little more than hold back hell long enough to get a tiny percentage of the country’s population out before it was too late. With Gondar in their hands, they have a land route through to Chirico, which now needs to pull back its troops from the border defences and see to its own defence.”



“Forcing you to split your forces,” Emily said. She’d played enough games with the nerds to know how it worked, even if Command and Conquer logic never worked in the real world. “But I don’t even come from this world. Why me?”



Void smiled. “Shadye may have asked for a Child of Destiny without specifying that she – or he – had to come from this world,” he said, wryly. “Or the entities might have deliberately misunderstood the instructions. Or...he may have had a reason for summoning one from a different world.”



His expression darkened. “But right now, a Child of Destiny is far more likely to swing the odds in our favour than against us,” he added. “Shadye may simply have been intending to ensure that one never appeared, or to remove him from the world before he reached his time.”



Emily felt her head swimming again. This was too much. Void was talking calmly about matters that hadn't meant anything to her before she’d arrived in this world, before her life had turned upside down. And Shadye had not only brought her here against her will; he’d marked her for death, long before she could have done anything to him. Her lips cracked into a bitter smile. Shadye should have known that if he’d left her in her world she would never have grown into a threat to him.



And yet...how could she ever be a threat to him? She’d seen the sorcerer work magic casually, without any effort at all; she had no magic, not even an understanding of modern technology that could be used to alter the balance of power. Her teachers hadn't taught her anything useful; she had no idea how to produce gunpowder, or steam engines, or even the basics of modern medicine. Shadye had probably targeted her because she would be helpless even if she did manage to escape his grasp.



“You will be assured of my protection for as long as you are forced to remain in this world,” Void said, when she asked. “This world is not always safe for the unwary, or the weak, and Shadye’s interest in you may attract attention from others.”



Emily looked down at the floor, watching the strange patterns as they shifted from place to place. She’d read countless fantasy novels where the heroine was a chosen one, picked from all others to save the world, normally wearing a chainmail bikini as she hacked and slashed her way to slay the dark lord, or banish the demon back to hell. Offhand, she couldn't recall any novel where the chosen one had simply been a case of mistaken identity. And in the books where there was no tinge of destiny, the heroine was always supremely competent. What was she going to do? Impress Shadye by her masterful grasp of role-playing games, creative writing and wasting time browsing the internet and reading web comics? She didn't even have a homicidal rabbit with a switchblade on her side.



“I...” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I think Shadye might have chosen me deliberately.”



Void lifted an eyebrow, politely. “You think he might have seen something in you that everyone else missed?”



Emily flushed. She had always hated it when people tried to be snide. “I mean that he targeted me to force you to waste your time with me,” she said. “He might be doing something else while you’re helping me to fit into this world...”



“I’d hate to think that Shadye could calculate so precisely the time it took me to slip into the Inverse Shadow,” Void murmured. “Or even that I would have risked my life saving yours.”



His face twisted into a manic grin. “But we can easily test that theory,” he said, seriously. “Follow me.”



He walked across the room and out of the door before Emily could even stand up. Shrugging, she followed him through the door and into a network of corridors that seemed to glow with a pearly white light. Void stepped through another door into a room crammed with old books, a handful scattered on chairs as if their reader had just nipped out for a bite to eat, and paused outside a second door. When Emily caught up with him, he opened the door and motioned for her to precede him into the room. Inside, there was a small table, with a handful of objects scattered on the wooden surface, and little else.



The moment she stepped inside, she felt a muffling fall over her mind and stopped dead in her tracks. “You have some sensitivity,” Void noted. He didn't seem to have felt anything, naturally. “This room is designed to contain unexpected discharges of magic. I haven’t used it since my last apprentice left me to become a journeyman.”



There was an odd note in his voice that left her feeling that it would be unwise to pry too far into his affairs. “Look down at the table,” he instructed, “and take an item.”



Emily frowned. “Which item?”



“Use your instincts,” Void said, seriously. “Pick up the one that feels right to you.”



“Oh,” Emily said. It was a test, then. She’d never tested well. “How long do I have?”



“As long as you feel you need,” Void said. He moved over to the wall and leaned against it, adopting an insolent pose. “Pick the one that feels right to you.”



Emily nodded, staring down at the objects on the table. One was a large hammer, marked with runes that seemed to have been scorched into the metal by a powerful flame; a second was a long black cane that seemed to be made of shadow. A third looked to be a magic wand, right out of Harry Potter; a fourth seemed to be a fairy wand, complete with a glowing star on the tip. There was a bracelet with solid metal runes, a green ring that seemed to glow with its own light, a sword that seemed incredibly old, a dark statuette of a falcon and a key marked with a Greek letter. The Omega letter, if she recalled correctly. A book that looked almost as old as the sword, marked in dark letters she didn't recognise...



Finally, there was a twisted piece of wire that seemed to twist in ways that went outside normal reality. She tried to follow the wire with her eyes and felt the world spinning around her until she tore her gaze away from the object. It had nearly captured her mind. Shaking her head, trying to escape the sense of being muffled, she looked from object to object. The hammer seemed to glow with electric power; the cane seemed almost translucent, as if it wasn't really there. Something about the key warned her not to even think of touching it.



Pick the one that seems right to you, Void had said. Emily tried to think about it logically, and then realised that magic – and she was dealing with magic – might not follow the rules of logic and reason. She might as well assume that she was in a role-playing game and act accordingly. Her hand drifted from item to item, never quite touching anything until it settled on the book. She’d always loved books, right from the day her mother had shoved a kids comic under her nose and gone off to drink herself into a stupor. Books had been her companions throughout her entire life.



Carefully, she picked up the book and held it out to Void. “I choose this,” she said. “Is this the right choice?”



Void snorted. “Is it the right choice?”



“Yes,” Emily said, suddenly tired of the game. “It is the right choice.”



“You have a talent,” Void said. “Every would-be apprentice is offered the chance to choose something from a similar table. Choosing the book...”



He smiled, thinly. “We shall expect great things from you, I think,” he added. He took the book from her hands and studied it thoughtfully, before passing it back to her. “Far too many take the wands, or the hammer, or the sword. They would make poor magicians.”



“I can be a magician?” Emily asked, stunned. “But...”



“You have the talent,” Void confirmed. He turned and led her out of the room. “The book is yours now, although it may be a long time before you know how to use it. My master gave it to me and promised to teach me all of his dangerously-won knowledge if I learned to read it in less than a year. It took me ten years to learn.”



Emily stared down at the book. Ten years for someone to learn how to read it? The letters seemed to twist and turn in front of her eyes, as if the meaning constantly changed into something else. Emily had never tried to learn a foreign language in her life, unless one counted the codes they’d invented for their games. How could she even make a start on reading the book?



“I need to make some arrangements for your future,” Void added. “We shall eat and then you can rest while I speak to the rest of the council. They will need to be informed of your appearance. And then we can decide what to do with you.”

COMMENTS?


Chapter Three



Emily lay in her bed, unwilling to open her eyes. It had all been a dream. It had to have been a dream. Being transported to a land of magic and wonder, so different from the dull mundane world that had given birth to her, was a dream come true. No; it was too good to be true. When she opened her eyes, she knew that she would be back home...



But the bed felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar...and the air was too hot...and someone was in the room. Her eyes snapped open. She was lying on her back, staring up at an elaborately crafted ceiling decorated with gold and silver flake. A young woman, one of Void’s servants, was standing by the foot of the bed, holding out a robe for Emily to wear. Her original clothes had been taken away to be cleaned, or so she assumed. It wasn't as if she wanted them back.



It hadn’t been a dream, Emily realised, and found herself smiling brightly as she pulled herself out of the huge bed. The serving girl passed her the robe – there was a curious blankness in her eyes that bothered Emily on a very primal level – and stepped back, heading for the door. She was young, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a uniform that managed to combine elegance and practicality into one. The girl didn't seem curious about Emily, or what she was doing in her master’s bed, but she worked for a magician. No doubt she was used to all kinds of wonder and magic.



The robe felt surprisingly soft and warm against her skin as she headed to the bathroom to splash water on her face. One thing that hadn’t been mentioned in any of the role-playing campaigns she’d fought was that medieval plumbing left a great deal to be desired. There was no hot running water, let alone a device to flush the toilet. Magic clearly didn't provide a substitute for such basic technology...maybe, she told herself, she could convince Void to install running water in his tower. It might make the environment healthier.



Chuckling at herself, she washed herself and stopped in front of a mirror, studying her face. A moment later, the image rotated around, showing her what she looked like from behind. Emily started backwards in surprise, before realising that it was magic, exactly what she would have created if she’d had the power and the talent. She found herself casting a glance at the book Void had given her, wondering if it would teach her how to create a magic mirror or other useful tricks.



She couldn’t resist. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” she said, “who’s the fairest of them all?”



“Silly question,” a voice said. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin. “Fairest is a subjective measure. One man’s fairest woman might be another man’s ugly bitch.”



Emily started to laugh. “Don’t you have any opinions on the subject?”



The mirror’s voice seemed to deepen. “I’m just a mirror,” it said. “I am really nothing more than a reflection of yourself.”



“I see,” Emily said, although she wasn't sure that she did. “Thank you.”



She stepped away from the mirror, towards the heavy wooden door. The serving girl had left it open and was waiting outside, with an expression that suggested that she was prepared to wait forever. Emily stepped out of the door and wasn't entirely surprised when it closed behind her, slamming shut with a faintly ominous thump. Void had promised that she would be safe in his tower; it was, he’d bragged, protected by countless security spells. Emily could feel something in the air as the serving girl bowed to her and led the way down the stone corridor, past a giant window looking out over the forest. Something huge hung in the air, something with giant bat-shaped wings...Emily stopped and stared. It couldn't really be a live dragon, could it? How could something that big even fly?



Magic, she told herself. The dragon seemed to flap it’s wings slowly; the next moment, it was gone. Emily felt a sense of loss, as if all the magic in the world had drained away into nothingness, before allowing the serving girl to lead her the rest of the way into the dining hall. Void’s hall seemed large enough to sit a small army, but there was only one table, set up in front of a roaring fire that flickered with eerie green and blue lights. The sorcerer himself was seated at one end of the table, devouring a plate of sausages and bread. A pair of serving girls stood behind him, just waiting for his orders. There was only one other seat at the table.



“Come in,” he called, as Emily hesitated. Something about the sheer size of the hall stuck her as faintly ridiculous. She’d certainly never had the impression that Void liked to entertain outsiders in his hall...she stopped and laughed, inwardly, at herself. If she had only known Void for less than a day, how could she claim to be an authority on him?



She walked over to the table and sat down facing him. “The kitchen staff were quite pleased to hear that you were staying with us,” Void said. “They want to cook something a little different from time to time, but I’m rather set in my ways. I don’t want anything more than meat and bread for breakfast.”



He smiled, as if he expected her to share a joke. Emily, who normally ate only Corn Flakes and coffee for breakfast, didn't understand it. Her parents might like the thought of devouring eggs and bacon for breakfast, but she had never been able to endure eating a large breakfast that left her feeling slightly unwell. The smell of Void’s breakfast was strong enough to turn her stomach, but she said nothing. What could she have said? One of the serving girls placed a jug of water beside her, another a mug of hot black liquid that smelled faintly of ground earth and sand. Emily hesitated, before picking it up and taking a sip. It managed to taste almost, but not completely unlike coffee. On the other hand, it seemed to contain enough caffeine to give her system a morning jolt.



“The water was safely boiled by my staff,” Void assured her, as she eyed the jug doubtfully. “Anywhere else, ask them if the water has been boiled. Some of the common folk don’t believe in the invisible devils in the liquid.”



Of course, Emily told herself; humans hadn't always known that water had to be boiled to ensure that it was safe to drink. Her reading had told her that unsafe water had been the cause of countless epidemics throughout history. Invisible devils was as good a way as any to describe germs, even if it wasn't very scientific. But to a world built on magic rather than science, it might make perfect sense. Hell, the germs might be real devils.



“Thank you,” she said. The water tasted sweet to her lips. “What are we going to do today...?”



Void lifted a hand. “Wait until you’ve eaten,” he said, firmly. The serving girl returned and placed a platter of meat, eggs and bread in front of Emily. “A good meal will make it much easier for us to talk properly.”



Emily had no idea how they expected her to eat so much, but as she dug into the meal she found that she was far hungrier than she had realised. The meat tasted rather like beef, yet there was something in the taste that she didn't recognise...and she had no idea what kind of creature had laid the eggs. Only the bread tasted even remotely familiar, rather like the bread they had cooked in home economics class. But it tasted much better than the bread thirty schoolchildren had produced while they were watched by a teacher nervous of what might happen to her career if they poisoned themselves. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the food seemed healthier than anything she’d eaten back home.



“I have been summoning beings and making enquiries,” Void informed her, as the serving girl removed the platter after Emily had finished. “It seems that you have been the victim of imprecise specifications.”



He’d said much the same thing yesterday, Emily knew. “Shadye was very specific in his demands,” Void continued. “He ordered the Faerie to bring him a Child of Destiny, with great magical powers, yet no real awareness of those powers. Unfortunately for him, he failed to specific what a Child of Destiny actually was, or where he or she should actually come from. Had he specified that the Faerie should concentrate their search on this world, you wouldn't be in this mess.”



Emily nodded, thoughtfully. She hadn't known that she had magical powers, but then there was no such thing as magic in her world. Unless, of course, Clarke had been right when he pointed out that a sufficiently advanced technology was no different from magic. Or perhaps mental powers – assuming that they existed – were really no different from magic either.



Or maybe you should just go with it, a voice at the back of her head said. The laws governing magic might be very different to anything you’ve ever known.



Void’s eyes twinkled. “Necromancers rarely bother to consult with others, if they can bring themselves to recognise that outsiders might bring a new perspective to their problem,” he informed her. “No doubt he believed that the Faerie would obey orders...which, to be fair, they did. He just wasn't specific enough to get them to do what he wanted.”



“And so they picked me up instead,” Emily mused.



“If nothing else,” Void added, “think of it as a lesson in the requirement for absolute precision when dealing with magic and magical entities.”



He shook his head. “But that leaves the problem of deciding what to do with you,” he said, changing the subject. “Shadye may not have realised that his summoning failed – indeed, given that I plucked you out of his grasp before he could sacrifice you, he may believe that he succeeded, only to lose you to me. He will certainly be looking for you; he may even try to remove you from my tower and take you back to his territory.”



Emily shivered. It was easy to feel safe inside the tower, but suddenly that safety felt like an illusion. She’d seen both Shadye and Void do things that she would have sworn were impossible, only a day ago. What could she do if Shadye captured her for the second time? He certainly wouldn't make the same mistake twice.



“There's also the fact that you need to be trained, and trained properly,” Void mused. “Right now, you’re a potential source of magic for any untrustworthy mage out there; Shadye won’t be the only one who wants to capture you once word gets out. Shadye wanted to use your power and your status – your presumed status – as a Child of Destiny; others will have far darker ambitions. You need training and I can’t train you.”



Emily felt her heart twist. She had expected, she realised now, that Void would train her. He was odd, but she was coming to like him. The thought of leaving his tower and going out into the wider world beyond chilled her, particularly with hostile wizards out there intent on capturing her and taking her power – the power she hadn't even known she possessed – for themselves. She certainly didn't want to think about what they might do to get their hands on her power.



“I’m a bad teacher,” Void admitted, when she pressed him. “I’ve had seven apprentices in my time. Three of them had to be dismissed for disobedience, two died in magical accidents, one went rogue and became a necromancer...”



There was a long pause. Emily finally broke it. “And the last apprentice?”



“I had to kill him,” Void said, flatly. There was a look in his eyes that warned her not to press him any further. “Suffice it to say that my history of tutoring apprentices is not good.”



He hesitated, as if he was unwilling to admit to anything else. “There’s also the fact that you need a far wider field of study than I can provide for you in my tower,” he added. “You’ve only met myself and Shadye – and there were plenty of other types of magician out there. I would just limit you if you studied under me. You deserve better than that.”



There was a second pause. “I’m sending you to Whitehall,” he said. “You’ll be safe there.”



Emily blinked, trying not to feel abandoned. “Whitehall?”



“There are only a handful of places where new wizards are trained,” Void explained. “Of all of them, Whitehall is the oldest, constructed back in the days of the Old Empire. Politically, it’s uninvolved in the power struggles between the Allied Lands – and it is a bastion against the necromancers. Your presence elsewhere may” – he paused, as if he were selecting his next word carefully – “upset people.”



“I don't understand,” Emily admitted. “Why am I so special?”



Void snorted. “Luck,” he said. He shook his head, ruefully. “If word gets out to the Allied Lands that you are a Child of Destiny – even if you’re not a Child of Destiny in anything other than the literal sense – there will be repercussions. And once they realise just how much power is welling up inside of you, they will either try to co-opt you or kill you.”



He shrugged. “It won’t surprise you to know that the Allied Lands spend as much time fighting each other as they do fighting the necromancers,” he added. “We mock them for their disunity, but ours is just as bad.”



Emily frowned. “So...which side are you on?”



Void gave her a sharp look, and then nodded in understanding. “I'm a graduate of Whitehall myself,” he admitted. “As such, I owe overall fealty to the Allied Lands as a whole, not to any single country. Those of us who are on the sharp end in dealing with the necromancers have no time for power struggles between the Allied Lands. Maybe Princess Samira didn't actually want to marry Prince Davit...whatever really happened, it’s not an excuse to start a war that creates openings for the necromancers to break into the Allied Lands.”



“You said that the necromancers were tightening the screws,” she said. “Can’t they see that they’re in trouble?”



“I’m sure they can,” Void said. “They just don’t bother to actually think about what they’re doing.”



He looked at her, directly. “Whitehall sits in the mountains, at a crossroads of power where two ley lines intersect,” he added. “That gives the school’s wards incredible power. No necromancer can enter the school, or its grounds, and no one from the Allied Lands would dare to breach its walls without permission. The Grandmaster’s will is absolute within the school.”



Emily found herself smiling. “His name wouldn't be Dumbledore, would it?”



“I wouldn't know,” Void reminded her, archly. “Those of us who seek great power keep our names secret, remember?”



Emily flushed at his tone. “I have made arrangements for you to go there today and be enrolled at the school, before anyone apart from Shadye and I learns of your true nature,” Void continued. “You don’t need to worry about payment; the Grandmaster owes me a favour or two, so he has agreed to waive the tuition fees in your case. Besides, I think that if you had proper training, you would be formidable indeed. I rather doubt that Whitehall is anything like the schooling you had back home, but it will provide you with the grounding you so desperately need.”



“Thank you,” Emily said. It was hard to escape the conviction that she was being abandoned, but it was clear that Void was doing his best for her. Going back to school...well, she would actually be learning something more fascinating than sanitized facts and pointless nonsense. Besides, if Void was right and other magicians would be seeking her out, she’d better learn to defend herself as quickly as possible. Shadye had overpowered her with contemptuous ease.



Void smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said. “If you become a defender of the Allied Lands, beside us, I will be more than repaid.”



He stood up. “I have also made arrangements for your transport,” he informed her. “The kitchen staff will provide you with food for the journey...”



Emily blinked. “You won’t be coming with me?”



“I’m afraid not,” Void said. “Don’t worry. Your transport...trust me, no necromancer is going to want to risk drawing the attention of your transport.”



“Right,” Emily said. All of a sudden, she felt as if Void had given her a red shirt to wear, perhaps complete with a targeting circle. But then, he had lived in this world for his entire life. No doubt he knew what he was doing. “I meant to ask you something.”



Void lifted a single eyebrow, patiently. “Your servants,” Emily said, quietly. “Why do they all look so...”



She couldn’t think of a suitable word, but Void understood. “They have pledged themselves to me for the duration of their services,” he said, flatly. “In order that they might live here, they have accepted powerful loyalty spells, ones that prevent them from doing anything contrary to my interests.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re starting to sense magic properly, my dear.”



Emily winced. She had no way to be sure, but she would have bet good money that the spells went a great deal further than simply ensuring the loyalty of his servants. The blank stare in the girl’s eyes chilled her. Perhaps she no longer had any real free will of her own, or perhaps Emily was just imagining it. She hoped that she was imagining it.



She shook her head. This world might be more exciting than her old world, but it had dangers of its own. And Shadye wasn't the only one who misused magic.

Subscribed.

Edit: Y'know, it would be ironic if the Faeries grabbed a Child of Destiny who is also a Child of Destiny.

...And, hmm, will we see Empress Emily, The Reformer?

Whelp, I'm liking it. What are the basics of the magic system? MP/Mana, spells per day, ect.

Also, could you put your paragraphs a space or two closer together please?

A very good beginning. Subscribed.

Interesting. Post more.

That would be telling. More on it later.

The paragraphs aren't my fault. It's a problem with pasting from MS Word, I think.


Chapter Four



“How big is this tower?”



Void smiled as they kept walking up stairs that seemed to reach all the way to heaven. “It’s as big as it needs to be,” he said.



“That isn't an answer,” Emily said, in some irritation. The knapsack of food and drink was dragging at her shoulder. This world had clearly never invented rucksacks, at least not yet. Absently, she wondered what – if anything – she could introduce from her world to make lives easier here. “How big is the tower?”



Void’s smile grew wider. “The tower is far larger on the inside than on the outside,” he said, dryly. “Each successive owner has added more to the interior, creating a mass of passageways and compartments that run for miles underground. Even I couldn’t tell you just how big the tower is on the inside.”



A gust of cold air struck her as they finally reached the top and out onto the battlements. Emily felt a wave of vertigo as she realised just how long a drop it was until the ground, far below, and just how small the battlements were. A child could climb on them and then be blown off by a sudden change in the wind. They didn't look very secure to her eyes, but as far as she could tell the true defence of the tower rested in Void’s magic. A small army of men could climb over the battlements if they could get past the wards.



“He comes,” Void said, pointing towards the sun. “Look!”



For a moment, Emily saw nothing...and then, out of the sun’s glare, a dark winged shape was dropping down towards the tower. It was so large that she had problems trying to take it all in; green scales, flashing in the sunlight, brilliant golden eyes and wings so immense that they seemed to stretch for miles. Giant claws, each one larger than Emily herself, seemed to glint with light as the dragon dropped to the battlements, landing with a gentle thump. It seemed impossible that the tower could even hold up under its weight.



Emily shrank back behind Void as the dragon opened its mouth, a wisp of smoke emerging from its nostrils. Inside, there were razor-sharp teeth and a long tongue that licked at its lips, as if it had decided that the two humans would be a pleasant snack. For a being that large, the rational part of Emily’s mind insisted, two humans would be nowhere near enough to sate its hunger. And then she caught the golden eye and froze, transfixed.



The dragon was old. Old enough to have seen eons pass while it drifted through the skies, heedless of the scurrying humans on the world below. There was no longer any sense of threat from it, merely a sense of ancient knowledge and amusement. Void seemed equally stunned by the dragon, even though they had to be a fact of life in his world. How many magicians, Emily asked herself, knew dragons personally?



“It has been a long time,” the dragon rumbled. Emily shuddered at the thought of what a dragon might consider a long time. All of the fantasy books she’d read had claimed that dragons had very long lives. “Do you finally wish to call upon the debt I owe you?”



“I do,” Void said. His voice sounded tinny, somehow, in comparison to the dragon’s deep rumble. “This girl needs transport to Whitehall.”



Emily suddenly felt very small as the dragon’s great golden eyes peered down at her. “A traveller from another world,” the dragon stated. It wasn't a question. “How strange. We have not seen one like you for many years.”



It bent its head down towards the ground. “You may ride on my back,” it added. “None will dare harm you while I am here.”



Void nodded to Emily. “You can trust him to take you to Whitehall,” he said. “And I will see you again, soon enough.”



Emily hugged him, suddenly, and then turned to face the dragon. She’d always had the impression that dragons were romantic, but there was nothing romantic about this dragon. Up close, there was a faintly disconcerting smell – sulphur, she guessed – and the scales felt uncomfortably hot to the touch. Years ago, at a petting zoo, she’d touched a snake, but this was very different. Touching the dragon was like touching an armoured tank that had been out in the sun.



“Use the scales to climb on my back,” the dragon said. It sounded vastly amused at her struggles. “You cannot hurt me.”



Emily hesitated, and then scrambled up, half-expecting to feel scales giving way under her weight. But nothing happened. She reached the dragon’s back and swung her legs over the side, clutching a scaly hump that rose up in front of her. A moment later, there was a sudden gust of wind and the dragon threw itself upwards, into the air. The ground dropped away with terrifying speed. Emily yelped and clutched the hump tighter, trying not to look at the ground, or at the wings as they flexed against the air. She’d flown in aircraft before, of course, but this was different. There was nothing between her and the ground. If she fell, she would plummet to her death.



The airflow seemed remarkably mild as the dragon twisted in midair, rather like a rollercoaster, and snapped at a bird with its sharp teeth. There was a brief explosion of feathers and nothing else, apart from a dragonish gulp. Emily shivered again as the dragon levelled out and started to fly away from the tower; somehow, she managed to turn just long enough to see Void’s tower as it receded into the distance. It looked like a giant Chess piece, standing alone in the middle of the forest.



There was a wave of heat as the dragon blew fire into the air, its entire body flexing underneath her. Emily told herself firmly not to be scared, trying to convince her eyes to look back down at the ground. If she’d had any doubts that she was in a different world, they would have faded away when she saw the villages down below. They were primitive, utterly untouched by the modern world. The only genuine road she saw reminded her of the roads the Romans had built when they’d contoured most of Europe; the remainder were little more than muddy paths traversed by horses and carts. Most of the fields were tiny, compared to the ones she’d seen back home, worked by hand rather than by combine harvesters. If she recalled correctly, medieval farming had never been very efficient. It had taken the development of modern technology to make farming on a vast scale profitable.



Down below, she caught sight of people working in the fields. It was hard to be certain, but they looked to have a beaten down look, as if they knew that they weren't working for themselves. Perhaps they weren't, she told herself, as she caught sight of a small castle-like building at the centre of a number of villages. The local baron probably lived there, she guessed, exploiting the peasants and taking all of their crops for himself. Perhaps he didn't even leave them enough to live on.



The dragon blew more fire into the air as it flew over a colossal lake, sailed by hundreds of tiny fishing boats. Emily glanced to the other side and saw that the lake was actually connected to the sea, allowing sailors to dock their boats away from storms and powerful waves. None of the boats looked particularly advanced either, she realised; the largest she could see was not much bigger than a fishing boat from back home. Perhaps they didn’t bring the galleons or the bigger sailing ships into the lake, or perhaps they simply didn't exist. Void hadn't said much about local geography, but he'd hinted that the necromancers were pushing in on the Allied Lands. Perhaps the Allied Lands had no time to explore the rest of their world. Coming to think of it, she asked herself, did they even know that their world was a sphere?



In the distance, a wall of mountains rose up in front of them, covered with hardy green plants that seemed to provide food and shelter for a tiny human population. The dragon roared and lunged forward, diving between the peaks and dancing through the mountains, playing chicken with the rocky walls. A long valley opened up in front of them and the dragon flew down it, heedless of the small village hidden away from the rest of the world. Emily winced in horror as she caught sight of people staring at the dragon, before running away in terror. They had to think that the dragon was intent on eating them, or on eating their animals. A woman stood up at the edge of the village, shouting at the dragon, only to be ignored. Emily hadn't been able to make out a single word.



The dragon chuckled as it lifted up above a mountain peak, and then dived down into another valley. This one seemed to be completely deserted, nothing more than trees and flowers hidden away by mountain peaks. The dragon jinked right and left, before flying up and over a giant statue that someone had carved into the side of the mountain. Even looking at it gave Emily a chill. She’d seen pictures of the giant statues that had been destroyed in Afghanistan, but this was larger – and very clearly not human. Giant pointed ears dominated a face so cruel and calculating as to be completely alien, with eyes that were made from black gemstones that seemed to glow in the shadow cast over the statue. Beyond it, there was a row of seats looking out over a depression in the rock; it took her a moment to realise that she was looking at a sporting arena. The entire area seemed completely deserted...



...Yet she felt the hackles rising on her neck as the dragon lifted up into the air. It felt as if they were being watched by unfriendly eyes...helplessly, she glanced around, feeling the sensation growing stronger and stronger with every second. There was nothing that looked threatening, apart from the statue itself, but it was just a statue. Wasn’t it? But this was a world of magic, she reminded herself. A statue might be able to come alive and fight the dragon...



The sensation fell away as the dragon lifted even higher into the air, leaving the eerie statue and arena behind. Emily allowed herself a sigh of relief as the mountains started to come to an end, revealing a ruined city on the other side. It looked as if someone had bombed it to hell, and then the citizens had abandoned it; hundreds of damaged buildings lay everywhere, along with dozens of statues that had been knocked to the ground. One towering building had been left intact, right in the centre of the city; the remainder had simply been wrecked by whatever force had torn the city apart. Emily wondered, absently, if Hiroshima had looked like that, before wondering what magicians would use in place of a mundane atomic bomb. Maybe they enslaved dragons and used them to wage war on entire cities...again, there was no way to know.



She shivered as the dragon flew away from the city, over the desolation outside. 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 signs of human life anywhere. The inhabitants had fled or had been killed by the forces that had destroyed their homes. Puzzled, Emily stared down 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, she opened her knapsack and found the first sandwich. Void’s kitchen staff had produced enough food to last her for several days, along with four bottles of water and one of a green liquid that smelt vaguely like lime. She ate the first 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 so long in the shadows, her real life could begin. Or maybe it was finally a chance to be someone important.



The ground changed so rapidly that she missed the moment that 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 seemed to stretch on forever, 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 among the mountains and the sparks faded away into nothingness.



These mountains were different. The firestorm that had scorched the countryside to ash had raged through them too. There were no plants or trees growing on the craggy stone; everything had been wiped away, leaving nothing apart from naked stone. Emily shivered again as the air suddenly grew colder, just before the dragon twisted and headed towards a towering building perched on top of a mountain. As they flew closer, she realised 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 seemed 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 and realised, in horror, 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, suggesting 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 seemed to come to a halt, 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 realise 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 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,” it said. Emily looked up in surprise. She’d thought that the dragons were largely uninterested in humanity. “His plan may cost your world dearly.”



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



The dragon said nothing. Instead, it flexed its wings and launched itself upwards into the sky. Emily saw it rapidly dwindling into a tiny dot that vanished in the sunlight, just before she sensed someone standing behind her. When she turned around, she saw a little man who’s 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, flatly. 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.

Your wish is my command.


Chapter Five



She felt the magic the moment she stepped through the large stone doors that led into Whitehall. There was 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 armour. The effect felt like the effect she’d felt at Void’s tower, but it was much more pronounced.



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 as the rows of immobile armour gave way to a series of paintings of wizards, almost all of them men. There were only a handful of female pictures, 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 name under the painting. None of the pictures were moving openly, but every time she looked away and then looked back the pose seemed to be different. Or maybe she was just imagining it.



They passed a stream of students as they reached a flight of stairs and walked upwards until they reached a higher floor. The sense of magic in the air was only growing stronger; like Void’s tower, Emily realised, 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. Human nature probably didn't change much 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, helping her to realise that they were in trouble. The students she had known back home had been quite capable of getting into trouble without magic; 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 was saying, as they passed. “I didn't actually mean to turn his skin blue!”



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



The Grandmaster led her onwards, past a pair of statues of wizards carrying wands and a strange creature with a human head and goat’s body, and into a large room dominated by a massive wooden desk. It was decorated sparsely, with only a pair of pictures and a couple of parchments Emily guessed to be certificates. The table itself was empty, 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 forced herself to stand still, somehow. “Void wishes for you to learn magic.”



“Yes, sir,” Emily said. 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 clip around the ear rather than love and understanding. Those laws might not exist here.



“You have the potential to be a proper sorceress,” the Grandmaster continued. He looked down at the table, as if he couldn't be bothered looking at her. “We will have to verify that for ourselves, of course, as well as ensuring 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.”



He 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...”



The Grandmaster shook his head. “We’ll have to show you how to unlock your powers,” he said, thoughtfully. “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 realised. 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. The Grandmaster listened – uniquely in the adults she had met, he had the ability to listen without interrupting – 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. It had honestly never occurred to her that neither Shadye nor Void would have known 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 recognised it until it had been pointed out to her by the Grandmaster. What else might they have done to her?



“I will have Mistress Irene teach you a basic translation spell for written words,” the Grandmaster informed her. “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.”



He smiled, thinly. “You’re not from this world, but I’ll give you the standard lecture anyway,” he added. “The Allied Lands may have countless disputes, ancient and modern; 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.



The Grandmaster shrugged. “You should be able to rise above it, as whatever disputes there were on your world are unlikely to matter here,” he said wryly. “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 seemed to fix on her face. “There is a great temptation to misuse magic in this school,” he said. “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 that actually manage to kill a fellow student will have to face that student’s family.”



Emily gulped. “Does...does that happen very often?”



“Too often,” the Grandmaster said. There was a flatness in his tone that warned her not to pry further. “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, following 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 Master, 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 wrong title.”



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



The line of students standing against the wall seemed to have 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 seemed to ignore her, reluctant to risk catching the Grandmaster’s attention. Absently, she wondered what sort of punishments were assigned in a magical school. Did they have to write lines, 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, which the Grandmaster tapped with his staff. It opened, revealing another corridor leading away into the distance. 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, before turning and striding out of the concealed door. Emily turned back to see Madame Razz studying her with a faintly disapproving expression, before beckoning for Emily to follow her down the corridor and into a large storeroom. It was crammed with everything from clothes to bedding and toilet supplies. Madame Razz studied her for a long moment, again, before producing a white robe from a pile of clothing and thrusting it at her. Emily held it up against her body and realised that it would fit, although it would also conceal the shape of her body from prying eyes.



“The white robes are assigned to newcomers to Whitehall,” Madame Razz informed her, coldly. She plucked what looked like an oversized pair of panties off a railing, followed by an undershirt and a pair of socks, passing them all to Emily. “You are not permitted to wear anything else outside your room, particularly anything that may cause divisiveness among the students. You will be assigned five pairs of everything, which you will be responsible for; you will make sure that it is put out for wash, and then collected from the laundry room. In the event of you losing anything, you will be charged for it.”



I love you too, Emily thought. The Grandmaster had seemed a decent guy, even if he had issued heavy-handed warnings. Madame Razz, on the other hand, seemed inclined to assume the worst of any of the girls. She seemed to have stepped right out of a boarding school from hell.



“You will change your bedding once every week,” Madame Razz continued, thrusting more packets of cloth at her. “Once changed, you will place the bedding to be washed along with your clothes. Luckily, the beds are standard, so we can interchange bedding if necessary. However, you are also responsible for removing any protective charms that you might have emplaced on the sheets. Accidentally leaving one in place to attack the laundry room staff will result in you being assigned to help them for at least a week.”



She picked a small amulet out of a bag and passed it over to Emily. “This is a guide to the interior of the building, which changes regularly,” Madame Razz informed her. “In the event of you needing to go anywhere, hold the amulet in your left hand and speak the name of the place out loud. A ball of light will appear in the air and guide you to your destination. If it refuses to work, you don’t have permission to enter that part of the building yet. Certain parts will remain off-limits until you reach a particular level. Wear the amulet until you learn how to ask the school for directions using your own magic.”



Emily glanced down at the amulet, and then put it around her neck. “Toothbrush, toothpaste, washing powder, watch, medical potions,” Madame Razz continued, piling bottles of liquid on top of the clothes Emily was already carrying. “During that time of the month, take one swig of this liquid per day and the effects will be much reduced. Be careful not to leave samples of your blood lying around; it maintains a link to you and someone with bad intentions can use it to hex you, or worse. There are charms to cut the link; until you learn them, hand any bloodstained items over to me for disposal.”



Madame Razz finally picked a book up from one end of the room and led Emily out, back into the corridor. Emily followed her down until they reached a single door, no different from any of the others. Madame Razz rapped on it sharply, and then opened it by tapping a finger against a rune that had been cut directly into the stone. Inside, there were three beds, two of them already made up and surrounded by piles of books and devices that Emily didn't recognise. The third bed was nothing more than an uncomfortable looking mattress.



“Place the bedding on the bed,” Madame Razz ordered. “I assume you know how to make up your own bed?”



She sounded as if she didn't expect Emily to be capable of tying her shoelaces without assistance, but Emily nodded. The last thing she’d wanted was her mother or stepfather coming into her room back home, so she’d taken care of everything from a very early age. It wasn't actually hard to change a bed; it had always amused her that boys – and a number of girls – complained about how unfair it was that their parents made them do their own beds. They spent longer complaining than it took to make the bed.



“Yes,” Emily said.



“That’s yes, Madame,” Madame Razz snapped. She scowled at Emily and then nodded towards the door in the rear of the room. “Toilet, washbasin and bath are in there. You’ll have to come to an agreement with your roommates about rotas for using the bath; I’d prefer not to have to enforce one on you myself. The water basin over in that corner contains drinking water; if you happen to want food or anything else to drink, wait until morning. As a new student, you are not allowed to wander the building after lights out.”



She turned and nodded towards the other beds. “I’ve put you in with Aloha and Imaiqah; Imaiqah is a first year student, like yourself, Aloha is a second year student. As such, she is expected to take charge of the room. Should you keep the room clean and tidy, with a minimum of noise, fighting and bother, you will be rewarded with credits that can be exchanged for decorations, books or even sweets. I would strongly prefer not to have to intervene in disputes between you. In the event that it becomes unavoidable, you will all be punished. Do you understand me?”



“Yes, Madame,” Emily said, trying not to roll her eyes. “I understand.”



“Good,” Madame Razz said. “I understand that Mistress Irene will contact you; in the event of her not doing so before dinner time, one of your roommates will take you down to the dining hall. Or use the amulet to find the hall.”



She marched over to the door and looked back at Emily. “This school is very different to anywhere else in the Allied Lands,” she added, her tone becoming almost compassionate. “It can be hard to adjust, particularly if you came from an aristocratic family. If you need help or advice, you can talk to me at any time.”



“Thank you,” Emily said.



Madame Razz left quickly, closing the door behind her. Emily looked around the room, her gaze settling on a pile of books beside one of the beds. Her first impulse was to pick them up, but then she felt the magic haze surrounding them and realised that picking them up – at least without permission – would be a very bad idea. Instead, she sorted through the pile of clothing and bedding, before placing the clothing in the empty cupboard nearest her bed. The bottles of medicine went into the smaller table beside the bed, followed by the amulet; finally, she started to make the bed herself. It was even easier than she had expected, although the mattress felt rough and uncomfortable.



Lying back on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling and shook her head. Her life had turned upside down, yet she found it easier to deal with than she had expected. The old world seemed almost dreamlike to her now. She would never want to go home. Whatever her roommates were like, she prayed that she could get on with them. Friends would make her life here complete.



Shaking her head, she picked up Void’s book and started to leaf through the pages, wishing that she could understand them properly. But, even though Void had promised her that understanding would come in time, they were still nothing more than Greek to her.



Only a day, she told herself, dryly. See what you can do in a week.

Why do I get the feeling that Shadye kidnapped a nobody from another world thinking she was a Child of Destiny, lost her to the other side before he could sacrifice her, and now as time passes she'll become exactly what he thought she already was simply because she will look at the world around her in ways noone else would think of.

I can't help thinking of an old saying.

"Some are born to Greatness, and others have Greatness thrust upon them."

Heh heh heh...that would be very embarassing for Shadye.

Chris

Subscribed!

Also, about the issues pasting this in from elsewhere, I've found that if I click the button on the top right ("Use BB Code Editor"), then paste, then click the link to turn it back to normal, that prevents any of the weird spacing or formatting issues. I'm not sure, but I think that if you use specific formatting in word or whatever before you paste it (such as italics, sizing, color, etc...), then when you use this method all of that gets wiped out and you'd have to reapply it, but I don't think I've come across any of that in your story so far so it shouldn't be an issue.

Edit: Since you've mentioned that she's hung out with nerds and played RPG's before, I'm hoping that she brings that to mind when using magic and trying to make the more useful things she's come across or thought about before, as that totally what I would do when given the option. That and thinking up ways to get back the convenience that she's lost in traveling to a medieval land.

She will, I'm sure. Any ideas would be welcome <wink>

Chris

It continues being excellent. So far it is showing the detached just-going-with-the-flow reaction that I think a lot of people would have in her situation very well. Though I'm kinda waiting for that moment when she loses the detachment, and the utter strangeness of her new circumstance come crushing down on her, where she'll have to stop being acted on, and start to become an actor in her own right. (i.e. Right now she's only reacting. She got kidnapped by Shadye, rescued by Void, sent off to college by same, transported by dragon, interviewed by Headmaster, placed by Madame Razz. She's a passive actor right now. At some point she'll have to take action - yes, I'll study to be a sorceress, accept my role as Child of Destiny, whatever. But she'll probably have a crisis first.)

Thanks! More will be coming tomorrow.

Chris

Looking forward to it!

I find the Dragon's statement ominous - along with the fact that you aren't willing to talk about where magic comes from. I wonder if there is a MtG thing going on here, and her power will be leeched from earth in some negative and costly way.

It reminds me of a book I read some years ago where every universe had a limited about of magic, and the badguys were stealing our. Not that we had a lot, but they were draining out the drag that we possessed, leaving a universe without wonder or imagination.

Chapter Six



Emily was still flipping through Void’s book when the door clicked open and the first of her roommates walked into the room. She was a short mousey girl, with long brown hair, a freckled face and a tired expression, one that made her look cute instead of beautiful. Emily found it impossible to estimate her age; she could have passed for fourteen back home, but she had a feeling that people aged faster in a world without technology. The girl looked surprised to see Emily, one hand coming up in a defensive stance, before realising that Emily had to be the third roommate.



“You can call me Imaiqah,” she said, very softly. Her voice was low, almost as if she didn't want to attract attention. “What would you like to be called?”



Emily blinked in surprise, realising what had been missing. The Grandmaster had never asked her name, nor had anyone else, even Shadye. Void had told her that it wasn't a good idea to ask for a sorcerer’s name; it was quite possible that she shouldn't tell anyone her name either, for fear that it could be used against her. She couldn’t understand how an entire school could operate without anyone knowing their real names, but this was a whole different universe. Things worked differently here.



“Call me...” She stopped, shaking her head. What could they call her? Could they call her Emily, without her surname? Or should she pick a nickname...surely, Madame Razz had to be a nickname too. Imaiqah sounded vaguely Arabic. “I’m honestly not sure.”



Imaiqah smiled, brightly. “Your tutor will help you decide what you want to be called,” she said. “First day?”



“First day,” Emily admitted. Madame Razz had said that Imaiqah was a first year student too. “How long have you been here?”



“Seven months,” Imaiqah said. She stepped over to the bed and held out a hand for Emily to shake. “I’m a herbalist and a mirror magician, or so they tell me. Herbs I understand; mirrored magic isn't working so well. What do you intend to specialise in?”



Specialise? Emily didn't know what, if anything, she intended to specialise in. Void had given her the book of spells, but he hadn't said anything about specialising. Remembering some of the role-playing she’d done before being transported to a different world, it was easy to see that Void had probably taken it for granted that she would specialise in something – and that she would know more than she did about magical talents. He might not have understood that her world had no magic at all and therefore no specialised magicians.



Imaiqah saw the book on the bed before Emily could answer, her eyes going wide. “You’re a sorceress,” she said, astonished. “How many spells do you know?”



Emily hesitated, and then admitted the truth. “None,” she said. She knew nothing about casting spells, let alone tapping her magic, the magic she didn't quite believe she had. “I only just discovered that I was a sorceress.”



Imaiqah stared at her, as if she suspected that Emily was lying to her. “How is that even possible?” She asked, surprised. “I thought that all students were tested for magic.”



Her eyes narrowed. “Where do you even come from?” She added. “I can’t place your accent.”



“A long way away,” Emily said, unsure how much she should admit to Imaiqah. The truth, that she came from another universe, or a vague statement that wasn’t quite a lie? “It’s my first day at Whitehall.”



Imaiqah nodded in sympathy. “I remember my first day too,” she said, turning away and walking over to her bed. “Mistress Irene will see that you are properly set up for your studies, then assign you to classes; maybe we’ll share a class or two.”



The door opened again before Emily could say a word, revealing a tall dark-skinned girl with a scowl on her face. “I swear I will turn that fool into a toad,” the newcomer said, one hand clutching a wand as if she intended to start firing off spells in every direction. “How dare he try to ask me to walk out with him in the grounds?”



Imaiqah ignored the question as the door banged closed. “Aloha, this is our new roommate,” she said. “She doesn’t have a name yet.”



Emily heard her tone and understood, intensively, that Aloha considered herself the alpha female in the room. She was a second year, whatever that meant. The mushy girls boarding school books her mother had owned had suggested that senior girls could punish younger girls at will. They’d also included suggestions of lesbian affairs among the girls.



“Right,” Aloha said. Up close, she reeked of magic...and of something Emily couldn't identify. “I would prefer not to be bothered by any junior students. Keep to your side of the room and I will keep to mine – and don’t even think about touching my books.”



She dumped a bag onto her bed and stalked past them, into the toilet. Emily watched the door closing and then looked back at Imaiqah, who looked a little frightened. No doubt her roommate bullied her, she decided, or at the very least considered associating with a first year to be undesirable. Aloha might have magic, but she was still very human.



“She means it,” Imaiqah said. Her tone tried to be light, but didn't quite pull it off. “Everything she owns is covered in protective charms. I once picked up one of her books and ended up frozen to the floor until she came back and released me.”



Emily stared at her, and then looked down at the stone floor. If she’d touched any of the books...



A dull gong echoed through the building and she looked up. “Dinner,” Imaiqah said, with some relief. “Do you want to come with me to eat?”



Emily wanted to say no, to stay and hide in the room until the sense of weirdness, of being out of place, faded away, but she was hungry. Besides, the world wouldn’t change if she hid herself under the blankets. She nodded once, pushing the book of spells under the bed, and then picked up her robes, pulling them over the clothes that Void had given her. Madame Razz had effectively stated that non-school clothes were forbidden, but there was no time to change. She should have changed while waiting for her roommates, she told herself angrily. But the sense of weirdness had just been growing stronger and stronger.



Imaiqah picked up a book from her bedside table and then led the way back to the door, out into the corridor. There were dozens of students outside, all wearing robes of different colours, several old enough to be definite adults. In fact, Emily realised as she looked from face to face, some of them looked to be barely entering their teens and others seemed to be in their twenties. Most of them carried wands, or staffs; a couple carried broomsticks and one carried what looked like a gnarled club of wood. Their chatter didn't fade away when they saw Emily; they didn't seem to be surprised by an unfamiliar face. Or maybe there were so many pupils at the school that no one could hope to know them all. Emily had spent five years at her old school and she’d barely known anyone outside her immediate class.



“That’s Marcus,” Imaiqah said, pointing to a taller male student wearing a green robe and a red badge that seemed to glow with an eerie light. “He’s one of the prefects assigned to keep us all in line; he isn't a bad person, but he takes his responsibilities seriously. Don’t go running in the corridors in front of him.”



They walked out of the dorm corridor and down a long flight of stairs. Emily said nothing, staring around her; every time the castle seemed to make sense, something happened to confuse her again. The corridors seemed to be rearranging themselves at will; some of the students didn't even look human. One of them had pointy ears like an elf, reminding her of one of the Star Trek characters she’d watched as a younger girl. Another seemed to be a living plant, with green skin and twigs in place of hair. And a third...Emily realised in shock that her head was surrounded by living snakes that moved of their own accord. She looked like the pictures of Medusa from the role-playing games.



“She’s a Gorgon,” Imaiqah explained, when Emily asked. “It’s very rare for a Gorgon to attend Whitehall, or so we’ve been told. Their society prefers to have nothing to do with the Allied Lands.”



Emily felt her head spinning as they left the Gorgon behind, reaching a huge doorway that led into a massive dining room. There were tables everywhere, crammed with students who were stuffing their faces with giant platters of food. At the head of the room, a dozen tutors – they had to be tutors – ate with more dignity, looking up between every bite to make sure that their students weren't getting into mischief. They seemed a varied lot, Emily decided; a handful looked like traditional wizards, while others looked stranger, even downright weird.



Imaiqah pointed her towards the line of pupils waiting for food, jostling one another as the line slowly advanced towards a hole in the wall. A pair of cooks wearing aprons were serving plates of food, something that looked like a hot stew with boiled potatoes and some vegetables she didn't recognise. One of the cooks smiled at her, reminding her of one of her stepfather’s favourite sayings. Never trust a thin cook, he’d said; the cook was fat enough to pass for two people. Clearly, she’d been eating her own cooking.



“This way,” Imaiqah said, when they had been served. The food smelt strange to Emily, but it was from another universe. “The first-years sit at the rear of the room...”



“So, the mouse has found a friend,” a new voice said. Emily looked back to see a tall girl sneering at them. “I trust that you will soon learn the folly of your choice.”



Emily had endured school psychologists and far too many cheerleaders who were ridiculously full of themselves, but she’d never been spoken to in such a condescending voice. The speaker had long white hair, surrounding a china face that could only be described as patrician. Emily swallowed the response that came to mind and attempted to ignore the newcomer. It wasn't easy.



“We are Alassa, Heir to the Throne of Zangaria,” the girl said. She had the regal dignity act down pat, Emily had to admit. “You will give us due honour, as we deserve.”



Emily stared at her – and then started to laugh. She couldn't help it. Maybe a genuine monarch, with years on the throne of her country, could have pulled off the act, but Alassa sounded more posturing than dignified. Alassa’s face clouded rapidly, one hand reaching for the wand at her belt, before Imaiqah caught Emily’s hand and dragged her off towards the tables. Emily would have preferred to stay and exchange barbs – it was her experience that bullies needed to be fought – but her new roommate didn't give her any choice. Besides, the self-styled Heir to the Throne of Zangaria probably knew much more magic than Emily.



“She’s a pain in the posterior,” Imaiqah muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot. “If you’re not one of her cronies, you’re her target.”



“I’ve met the type before,” Emily agreed. “Is she really royalty?”



“Where do you come from?” Imaiqah asked. “Zangaria is one of the Allied Lands – one of the most powerful states in the West. Alassa is their royal princess and will be Queen one day, may the gods help them.”



Emily had to smile. “So why is she here?”



“Their Royal Family has a long tradition of magic,” Imaiqah explained. She snorted, rather dryly. “So they send their heirs out to Whitehall to learn magic – and, just incidentally, to make contacts among their fellow nobility in the Allied Lands. But she is the social queen of the school and not inclined to actually make friends...”



“But she has a small following of cronies,” Emily guessed. Oddly, she found it reassuring, even if she was in a very different world. The people were definitely human. “People who keep telling her how wonderful she is, in the hopes that the glamour of royalty will rub off on them.” She smiled as Imaiqah nodded. “Why doesn't she like you?”



Imaiqah hesitated, and then admitted the truth. “I don’t have strong magic,” she said, finally. “And I’m a tradesman’s daughter. I made the mistake of refusing to do her homeworld several months ago and now she...”



She shook her head. “I really don’t have strong magic,” she added, a moment later. “You won’t want to associate with me...”



There was something in her tone that made Emily’s heart twinge in pain. She’d been a social outcast too, even though she’d lived in a world that should have known better. It wasn’t a bearable life; kids could be cruel...and those who might be decent otherwise chose to have nothing to do with the outcast, for fear that the popular kids – and the bullies – might turn on them next. Emily knew the unspoken truth behind every kid who took a gun to school and opened fire at random; they’d been knocked down so hard that they believed themselves to be at war with the entire establishment.



“I can associate with whoever I like,” she growled. The Grandmaster had warned her about political factions, but it wasn't as if Emily was going to be socially important in this world. It was rather unlikely that a prince would want to marry her – and she had no family here. “I don’t care what they think of me.”



Imaiqah stared at her. “But you’re a sorceress...”



“I’m still learning,” Emily said, interrupting. It was technically true, although – more practically – she hadn't even started learning. “And I can be friends with whoever I like.”



She started to eat the stew while studying the other students. They were definitely a diverse crowd, far more diverse than any crowd she’d seen back home. Apart from white, black, brown and yellow skins, there were students who were green, or blue, one so bright blue that it had to have been a magical accident of some kind. A number of students seemed to be the products of mixed-race marriages, as she knew them from back home, and others seemed to be part-human hybrids. One older student who caught her eye looked to be part-Orc, not unlike the characters from the role-playing games. Another was a dark-skinned elf-like humanoid who looked too thin to be human.



The stew tasted surprisingly nice, certainly better than anything else she’d ever eaten at her old school. There were herbs that sent odd tingling sensations running down her tongue; the meat itself tasted like a vague cross between beef and pork. Servants moved from table to table, pouring glasses of fruit juice and water for the students; Emily couldn't help, but notice that the servants flinched away from some of the tables. They were probably targeted by the magical students for practical jokes.



Imaiqah pointed out some of the tutors as they ate. “Professor Thande is the Head of Alchemy,” she said, nodding towards a short professor who was arguing with one of the other tutors. “He prefers to research rather than actually teach, so don’t get on his bad side or he’ll use you as a test subject for his concoctions. Professor Torquemada, beside him, is the Head of Healing; they’ve been squabbling for countless years over something that happened when they were both students.”



She grinned at Emily, as if she couldn’t quite believe that she was actually getting a chance to talk to someone and show off. “Professor Lombardi is Head of Charms; you’ll probably have a private session with him before you join his classes formally. He prefers to measure everyone’s potential before assigning them to classes. The man beside him is General Kip; he teaches combat magic and battle strategy. Don’t ever forget to call him General. He assigns the worst detentions in the school.”



Emily jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder. “Welcome to Whitehall,” a voice said. She turned to see a stern woman looking down at her from a great height. Her face could have been carved from stone, seemingly permanently fixed in a disapproving expression. “I am Mistress Irene. You will report to me in my office tomorrow at nine bells.”



“Yes, Mistress,” Emily stammered. There was something about Irene that warned her to be careful. In some ways, she reminded her of Madame Razz, but with far more power. “I’ll be there.”



Irene’s gaze switched to Imaiqah. “You will ensure that she finds my office tomorrow morning,” she added, sharply. “Make sure that she goes to bed early and has a proper sleep. Tomorrow she starts studying in earnest.”



She stalked off towards the end of the table to deliver a reprimand to another student, leaving Emily staring after her. “Don’t take it personally,” Imaiqah advised. “She’s like that with everyone. She’s meant to supervise all first year students and keep them from killing themselves, or each other.”



“Oh,” Emily said.



Imaiqah smiled. “And she dislikes Alassa,” she added. “That's one point in her favour.”



“Yeah,” Emily agreed. “But what will she think of me?”



The thought bothered her as they returned to their room and prepared for bed. If Irene was like that, how was she ever going to relax in her presence? But then, Irene probably didn't want her to relax. Magic was dangerous; several of the students bore scars from magical accidents – and the Grandmaster had warned that students could die in Whitehall. Irene didn't have an easy job at all.



On that thought, she climbed into bed and fell asleep.

*bounces*

wow this is pretty good , keep it up

Thank you!


Chapter Seven



The following morning, Emily stood in front of Mistress Irene’s office, wondering if she dared knock. Imaiqah had escorted her to the office after breakfast, before heading off at speed to her first class and leaving Emily alone. Mistress Irene’s door alone looked intimidating and the woman herself, according to Imaiqah, was formidable. She’d apparently faced down a necromancer with nothing more than a sharp tongue and a complete refusal to surrender to the dark wizard. After meeting Shadye, Emily had an idea of just how much courage that had to have taken.



Bracing herself, she stepped forward and tapped on the door. There was a long pause, just long enough for her to wonder if Mistress Irene was somewhere else, and then the door swung open silently. Emily stepped inside and saw a simple office, with walls lined with bookshelves crammed with books. It was smaller than the Grandmaster’s office and far more homely, she decided; Mistress Irene, seated at her desk, pointed one long finger at a chair and motioned for her to sit. Emily obeyed, trying to resist the temptation to glance at the toys on the tutor’s desk. Some of them seemed to shimmer with brilliant magic.



“You are an odd pupil,” Mistress Irene said, without preamble. “You are ignorant, yet powerful. That makes you dangerous.”



Her voice was cold, rapping out the points one by one. “Magic can kill the ignorant,” she continued. “You must learn to control your magic as quickly as possible. Losing control could be disastrous. Do you understand me?”



“Yes, Mistress,” Emily said.



“Good,” Mistress Irene said. There was a pause. “It is possible to use a sorcerer’s real name against them, but it requires their complete name to work. You may go by your first name, if you wish, or you may select something else you wish to be called. Choose.”



Emily hesitated. She’d wondered, last night, about changing her name completely, but she wanted to cling onto the name she’d been given at birth. Emily alone, it seemed, would be safe to use. Her surname had never been spoken in the new world.



“Emily,” she said, finally. Judging from the other names she'd heard – at dinner and breakfast – it wouldn't be too strange to local ears. “You can call me Emily.”



“Very well,” Mistress Irene said. She looked up, her dark eyes fixed firmly on Emily’s face. “Mana exists throughout the world. Magic is powered by mana. Your body produces mana. Do you understand me?”



Emily stared at her. “I think so,” she said, finally. Inwardly, she wasn't so sure. Did her body produce mana itself, or was she drawing on an energy field surrounding the new world? Or both? Perhaps the human race produced the power that kept dragons aloft...there was no way to know. Maybe she’d have a chance to apply the methods of rationality to magic and deduce its underlying rules. “That’s what makes me a sorceress?”



“A potential sorceress,” Mistress Irene snapped. “When you cast a spell, you power it with mana from your reserves. Learning how to power spells is the single most important lesson you’ll learn at this school. Overpowering your spells will result in disaster.”



There was a long pause. “There are other forms of magic, but you have to master your own first or you’ll never be anything more than a journeywoman,” she added. She picked up a piece of paper and passed it over to Emily, who looked down at it, puzzled. “The relationship between magic and spells is both simple and complex. Simple, because the spells help steer the magic in the right direction; complex, because you have to tie the two together in your mind.”



Emily nodded, carefully. “You mean...pouring magic into a given shape, rather like pouring clay into a mould,” she hazarded. “Or do smaller spells work as building blocks for larger spells?”



“As good an analogy as any,” Mistress Irene informed her. “Can you read the word on the paper?”



“No,” Emily said, after a moment. She’d half-expected a recognisable alphabet, but in hindsight that had been foolish. The letters she was looking at seemed a cross between Arabic and Chinese. “I can’t read them.”



“Good,” Mistress Irene said. Emily blinked in surprise as her tutor continued. “Had you been familiar with the language, we would have had to find another one for you to use. It is vitally important that you never relax while casting spells, even when you become proficient enough to cast them without verbalising. A single mistake can be disastrous.”



Emily had to smile. Mistress Irene seemed to like warning her about potential dangers.



“This is a charged wand,” Mistress Irene said, picking up a wand from her desk and passing it to Emily. “Wands are normally used for focusing magic; this one has spells inside it, already primed. Can you feel the spells?”



The wand seemed to sparkle in her hand, as if it were alive. Emily felt it twisting like a snake, even though she could see no sign of independent movement. Holding onto the wand was tricky, but the more she held it, the more she was aware of...spells waiting for her. And as she became aware of them, she became aware of the mana inside her, waiting to be released. Her magic seemed to be crackling to life.



“Try to cast one of the spells,” Mistress Irene suggested. “Focus your mind on it and trigger the spell.”



Emily reached out with her mind, unsure of quite what she was doing. The spell seemed frustratingly insubstantial, as if it existed only in potential. An engine, she reasoned, but one that required fuel to run. The trick was to draw the mana from inside her body and use it to power the spell. But she wasn't sure how to form the link between her mind and the wand, let alone the spells waiting for her power. Her power seemed to stop at her skin...



“Abracadabra,” she muttered, in frustration.



Something clicked in her mind. Power shimmered out of her and into the wand; a moment later, the spell seemed to blaze with light in her mind and vanished. Emily opened her eyes, unsure of just when she had closed them, and saw a shimmering image of herself hanging in the air. She let out a yelp in shock, just before the image vanished into nothingness.



“Did...” Emily swallowed and started again. “Did I do that?”



“You powered the spell,” Mistress Irene informed her, very sardonically. “Everyone has their own way to tap their mana.”



Emily put it together, slowly. There was a muscle for magic in her mind and she had to learn how to use it, but – like every other muscle – she didn't really issue precise instructions to her body and mind. The trick was learning how to issue basic orders. When she’d spoken the magic word aloud, her subconscious mind had done the hard work – and now she knew what she was doing, she could do it again.



“Try the second spell,” Mistress Irene suggested. “See if you can figure out how to make this one work.”



“Right,” Emily said. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, right into the wand. The spell was just waiting for her...this time, there was no need to struggle to channel power into the spell. It flared to life in her mind and, when she opened her eyes, she saw a second image of herself. This one seemed alarmingly substantial. Her head started to spin a moment later as it glowed brighter. Something was draining the mana out of her body. “I...”



Mistress Irene muttered a word and the image snapped out of existence. A moment later, the sense of being drained faded away, leaving Emily rocking back on her chair. The spell...the spell hadn't stopped, she realised in alarm. It had just kept draining power from her until Mistress Irene had cancelled it. What would have happened, she asked herself, if the spell had kept draining her? Would it have killed her outright, or merely knocked her out for a few hours?



“Something else to remember at all times,” Mistress Irene said. “Never let a spell demand unlimited power. Magicians, even sorcerers, have been known to kill themselves through trying to use a spell before checking it carefully. Do not try to use any spell until you see how it goes together.”



She stood up and picked a book off the shelves. “I’m going to give you a basic translation spell,” she said. “It will only last a couple of months, but by then you should be capable of renewing it for yourself. Sit still and don’t resist.”



Emily shifted uncomfortably as Mistress Irene muttered several words into the air, moving her hand in a complicated gesture. She felt...something gossamer-thin shimmering into existence around her, as insubstantial as a spider’s nest, before it fell down and over her body, embedding itself in her mind. It was all she could do to remain still until the spell was completed. The Grandmaster had been right. She would have to learn to read the local language.



“Now,” Mistress Irene said, when the translation spell had been completed. “It's time to start looking at how spells go together.”



The next hour passed very slowly as Emily puzzled over the building blocks of magic. Spells, Mistress Irene explained, were made up of smaller spells; it was possible to memorise a more advanced spell, but without an understanding of the underpinning spells it was impossible to progress further. Looking at the magic words, Emily was reminded of a simple computer language, one that ran in her brain. One of her nerdy friends had bought an ancient BBC computer and experimented with BASIC, one of the earliest computer languages, before graduating to more complex systems. He would have had little difficulty in learning to cast spells.



“Keep them in your mind,” Mistress Irene said, again and again. “Concentrate on breaking down spells into their smallest components.”



Emily scowled, feeling her head starting to pound. A computer language didn't actually do anything unless it was in a computer; writing a line of computer code on black paper didn't automatically alter the coding inside the computer. Logically, she had to consider herself a magical computer and run the coding – the spells – inside her own head, but sometimes it didn't seem to work out that simply. Writing down a magic spell was sometimes exactly the same as casting it and sometimes not; it took several tries before she managed to learn how not to infuse power into the spells.



And then there were spells – natural and unnatural – infused into people, objects or even the empty air. According to Mistress Irene, mana was everywhere, allowing creatures to evolve into forms that could draw on it for themselves. She didn't want to even guess at what sort of evolutionary history might have produced dragons, or gorgons and elves, but it made a certain kind of sense. Maybe, just maybe, orcs and goblins were humans who had been warped into something inhuman by exposure to the magic field.



“It’s a very good idea to test everything for infused magic before you touch it,” Mistress Irene said. “Your fellow students love playing practical jokes on their fellows. One of them even managed to rig his friend’s textbook so that it would turn him into a frog when he opened the book. Most of them won’t be skilled enough to hide a spell-trap from basic detection spells directly, but there are plenty of tricks they can pull to make it harder to detect a hidden trap.”



Emily looked down at the spell and nodded, before carefully casting it out loud. The room seemed to dim for a moment, just before a number of objects started to shimmer with an eerie red glow. She looked around, noticing the spells on the desk, the bookshelves, the globe and crystal ball in the corner...and there were dozens clustered around the door. Some of them looked harmless, even in the red light, but a number looked downright ominous. She had the distant feeling that trying to take a book off the shelves without permission would be very dangerous.



“Good,” Mistress Irene said. “Now, a second spell...”



It didn't seem to do anything, at least at first, until Mistress Irene passed her a small goblet and invited her to repeat the spell. The red glow surrounding the goblet faded away into nothingness, leaving her looking down at a harmless object.



“The simple spell for dispelling trap spells has a much shorter range,” Mistress Irene explained dryly. “Should you be unable to remove a spell someone might have left on your property, bring it to me or one of the other tutors. Naturally, removing the more complex trap spells is a great deal harder.”



Emily nodded. There would be no point in using any sort of spell to keep her property private if it could simply be dispelled. The spells crawling over Mistress Irene’s door looked a great deal more complex, suggesting that cracking them would be difficult, if not impossible. She wondered, absently, what they actually did to intruders. Freeze them in place, transform them into something else...or kill them outright? No, that couldn't be possible. Whitehall might take a more relaxed attitude to students injuring themselves and others than any school she knew back home, but there had to be limits.



The second hour passed far more quickly than the first as Mistress Irene pushed her into memorising and practicing a dozen different spells. One of them was a very simple defensive spell, enough to deflect many hexes and charms away from her body and soul. Emily shivered at the implications of students needing to know that spell as quickly as possible, forcing herself to keep it firmly in her mind. Another spell checked to ensure that a potion was safe to drink, although Mistress Irene warned her that it only picked up potions that were lethal; she could still become very ill from drinking the wrong potion.



A more complex spell, one that Emily couldn't master in the first session, was designed to analyse other spells, allowing the caster to see how they had been put together by the original magician. Mistress Irene made it work with ease, but Emily couldn't quite keep all the different variables straight in her head. Finally, Mistress Irene told her to leave the spell for now; they’d return to it in two days.



“I’m going to permit you to enter the library and borrow books suitable for a first year student,” Mistress Irene informed her. “I know that students will practice with spells with or without our permission, so I’d just like to remind you that hurting another student will leave you – at the very least – unable to sit comfortably for several days. If you manage to hurt yourself, you’ll have us laughing at you as well.”



Her eyes narrowed. “Every student has a different level of power,” she added, a moment later. “Push your limits, but don't push too far too fast. If you feel unwell, or headachy, stop casting spells and rest; eat something sweet to replenish your energy. The kitchen staff will provide you with something to eat if necessary.”



“Thank you, Mistress,” Emily said, finally. Her head already felt uncomfortable; when she stood up, her legs suddenly weakened and she had to grab the chair to keep herself from falling over. “I..”



“You’re going to the dining hall, where you will eat a large meal,” Mistress Irene said, flatly. “This afternoon” – she produced a sheet of paper, which Emily took automatically – “you will be joining the History of Magic class, followed by a free period during which you are expected to study. You’ll begin proper classes tomorrow.”



Emily glanced down at the paper. It was a class schedule, written out in a neat precise hand. The school day was divided up into eight periods, seven of them assigned to actual studies and one assigned for lunch. There were ten minutes between classes, she realised, either to keep the students from becoming exhausted by giving them a chance to get something to eat, or to ensure that if one class ran late there would be no delay for the second class. Being tardy, she suspected, would earn one a detention at Whitehall – or worse.



“I shall assign your roommates to assist you, as you are unfamiliar with our world,” Mistress Irene added. Emily gulped; she liked Imaiqah, but she had the distant feeling that Aloha would be much less willing to help a newcomer explore the school. “Imaiqah needs to retake two classes, so she will accompany you to Alchemy and Charms. Depending on how you progress, you may be moved up to a more advanced class within the next two months.”



Emily nodded. The schedule listed a dozen different classes for a first year, including Transfiguration, Mentalist Magic, Cryptozoology, Divination and Ethics. A number of periods had been left blank, but she wasn't sure if they were free periods for private study or if Mistress Irene hadn't assigned her to specific classes for those times yet. Two periods on Tuesday and Thursday had been marked, simply, sport. Emily scowled at the thought. She’d moved to a completely new world and she was still forced to attend gym class.



Mistress Irene smiled. “You haven't done that badly,” she said. “Void was right. You do have potential.”



Emily flushed. “But I couldn't master the analysis spell,” she protested. “I...”



The tutor laughed. “I’d be embarrassed if you mastered it without weeks of practicing,” she said, dryly. “Do you know how long it took me to master it?”



She shook her head. “Go to the dining hall and eat,” she added. “And then let your amulet guide you to History of Magic.”



Emily nodded and left the office, thinking – as she left – that Mistress Irene wasn't so bad after all. Perhaps she even had a heart of gold.

Huh, seems my initial guess was wrong. So what's putting earth in danger?

If she's Earth's Child of Destiny, in the sense Shadye meant it, then Earth is having to do without her.

"Hi, I'm Emily, daughter of Destiny, child of Destiny." Her father better not be Fate, that may be going too far.

Hmmm...intresting original...subscribed