56
“Are you okay?” Fergus asked Fulka.
Fulka panted, clutching at her ribs. She shook her head. “I think she broke a few,” she wheezed. “I can walk, but it’ll be slow.”
Fergus, crouched beside her, scowled through the wall at the blurry figures beyond. “That damned normie. If it wasn’t for him, this would’ve been easy.”
She pushed herself up, wincing.
“I can still get us out of here,” she said. “I can blow open the wall behind us. It leads to the infirmary. We can get out through there.”
He nodded. Then he scowled as a heavy crack formed in the ice. “I’d like to kill him first.”
Fulka pushed herself back against the wall. “I haven’t got any more cartridges. Even if I did, my rifle’s on the other side. I can’t help you, Fergus.”
“You can use your geomancy,” he said, pointing up. “See if you can bring the ceiling down on them.”
“I can try,” she said. “But I think I only have enough mana to break through the wall. If I bring the ceiling down, I might not be able to get us out of here.”
He glanced at the granite, thinking.
“Maybe I can punch through it with ice?” He held up the heavy staff. “I have a lot of power right now.”
“Is it really a lot?”
He grinned at her. “You can’t imagine how much it is. I think I can take on the whole Academy with this. Even the headmaster…”
“You might need to.”
Fergus gave her a slow nod. She was right. Even though he was filled with bravado, a part of him was quietly sobbing in a corner.
Everything had gone wrong.
How had it gone wrong?
He’d done everything right. It had taken weeks to come up with this plan. A plan which had looked perfect.
But it felt like Milo had been a step ahead of him all the way.
Just thinking about the smirk which seemed to be on the normie’s face was enough to make him snarl.
The ice cracked again.
He could reinforce it. Push up another wall. But that was only delaying the inevitable. And why should he feel afraid? He had the Primal Core in his hand. He could do anything!
“Mister Paddstone!” Mistress Vizzingbelle’s voice was muffled by the wall but rang clearly in his ears.
“You will be given only one chance. Disassemble the Leveler and put it on the ground in front of you with your wand. Step back and surrender with your hands on your head. Miss Fenricksurge should do the same. This is your only warning, Mister Paddstone.”
“You think you can tell me what to do?” Fergus shouted, waving the staff. “See this? With this, I can pull the Academy’s walls down around your fucking ears!”
“As we speak, Mister Paddstone, the headmaster has alerted the Mage Court. The Academy is being surrounded by mages trained in dealing with this situation. You don’t think you’re the only one to think of stealing the Leveler, do you?
We have protocols in place for such events.
And none of them involve letting you live.
The only way you will survive today is to surrender. ”
Fergus felt hot.
His head was burning up.
And his heart raced as fear began to replace his anger.
If the Mage Court was already here, things might get tricky.
“I want you to leave!” he shouted back. “Leave the chamber. I’ll think about surrendering, but I won’t until that normie is dead! It’s his fault. All of this is his fault!”
His voice sounded high in his ears.
Panicked.
But he gripped the staff tightly.
“You are asking us to sacrifice another student to you for some nebulous promise you will surrender after killing him?” Her voice sounded disgusted, which only made him even more hot.
“What fools do you take us for, Mister Paddstone? You are in no position to barter in any case. The core in your hand is extremely powerful. But it is only as mighty as the hand which wields it. Put it down, boy. You have gone far enough today.”
“You don’t understand!” The rage returned, blinding his eyes with tears of frustration. Why couldn’t anyone see what he could see? “I’ll show you. I’ll show all of you!”
“Fergus…” Fulka’s pained voice pulled his attention. “What are we gonna do?”
“Get out of here,” he said. “Get ready to open the wall.”
She nodded, her eyes staring at him with concern. She was terrified, he thought. And so she should be.
The Mage Court was ruthless.
Now it was a race. A race to get the staff to his father.
Because Mistress Vizzingbelle wasn’t wrong. Fergus wasn’t stupid enough to think he could take on the world with it. No, he didn’t have the skill or experience. Not yet.
But his father did.
He would bring the Mage Court to its knees like he’d always wanted to.
And then? Then his father would be grateful. He’d be proud.
He’d forgive that Fergus’ level was only six. That he’d been crippled by the disadvantage of having a normie for a mother. It was only the strength of his father’s blood that had let him avoid the fate of being a normie himself.
She was as troublesome as Milo.
A disgrace to the family. His grandmother called her one of his father’s dalliances and treated her with disdain.
It was all her fault. Her fault that his father counted him for nothing. Looked at him with derision. And even openly mocked his claim he could get the Primal Core.
Because what could a level six do?
If only his mother had more power, he might have been a level eight at least. Like his brother.
Clenching his teeth, Fergus showed a mirthless grin.
It wasn’t his brother who had managed to retrieve the core, though.
It was him.
Sure, Fulka was mostly responsible for the plan. But he’d reward her for that. In fact, he had hopes she’d spend the rest of her life at his side.
All they needed to do was follow her plan.
Open the wall.
Escape through the infirmary.
The ice cracked loudly, echoing through the room.
He glanced at her. Smiled.
Nodded.
“Do it,” he said, turning back to the wall and raising the staff. “Open the way. I’ll kill the normie and we can leave.”
“Alright.”
The ice trembled. Split.
And then scattered. The shouts of the mages rose as Fergus swept the staff, feeling the awesome near-infinite mana surge into his spells. He cast icy shards, a spell he was most familiar with. But this time he let it loose in a way he had never been able to before.
Almost drunkenly, he reeled as hundreds of shards blew from his hand, tearing into the mages in front of him.
Screams.
Their screams made his heart skip a beat.
These were real people! Not like the fake ones inside the dungeon. These were real. Their blood was real.
A few fought back. Their fireballs arced towards him. He waved the staff again and a veil of ice cut them off.
Mistress Vizzingbelle had survived, though she had a hole in her shoulder. She lifted a rifle.
He grunted, slamming another wall in front of the incoming blast. Which shattered the wall, but didn’t have the energy to reach him.
His eyes sought out Milo. The other young man was low to the ground. His rifle was pointed at Fergus. What shocked Fergus was the glint in the normie’s eyes.
He wasn’t afraid.
Why wasn’t he afraid?
“I’m opening the wall!” Fulka shrieked. “Fergus, we have to run!”
A loud boom exploded behind him. The force of the blast punched him in the back, making him stagger. He flung up another wall as he glanced back. Smoke bloomed as chips of granite skittered across the ground.
There was a hole through the wall.
He could see the infirmary.
Fulka dragged herself to her feet, clutching her ribs. “We have to go!”
“But the normie!”
“Fergus!” she cried. “He can wait! Kill him later!”
Fergus turned his head. He could see Milo, still aiming the rifle at him. Calm.
Like nothing was wrong.
Why would he be so confident?
Fergus took a step towards the hole in the wall. Fulka limped closer, whining as her ribs caused more pain.
‘Mister Paddstone!” Mistress Vizzingbelle roared. “There’s no escape for you! The Court has an army waiting for you outside!”
He flinched and paused.
Fulka shook her head. “They can’t have,” she said. “It’s too soon. Even if they used Fliers, it would take hours to get here.”
“Or they teleported…”
“That’s advanced magic,” Fulka grunted. “Do you think they’d have enough mages who could teleport an army? A few, maybe. But we can deal with them. You can deal with them, can’t you?”
“Yeah.” He felt his confidence lift. “Yeah, I can.”
She reached out a hand. “Help… Help me walk. I can’t… My ribs… hurt…”
He stepped up to her. He put an arm around her so she could lean against him. Something about supporting her made him feel strong.
Tough.
“We’ll make it out together,” he said firmly. “I won’t leave you behind.”
Behind him, the icy wall cracked again. How many mages were still alive?
He twisted to look.
Snikt.
A cold pain stabbed his belly. Sharp.
He looked down.
Her hand was pressed to his belly. Jutting from her palm was a blade. A blade that had sunk deep into his guts.
Horror filled his brain like a thick black liquid as he stared down into her eyes. Eyes he’d always dreamed of drowning in.
Eyes that now gazed up at him with dry humor.
“Sorry, Fergus,” she said softly. “Milo says hi, by the way.”
“I can’t move.”
“Paralytic,” she explained. “I can’t have you attacking me right now. Not when we’re so close to the end. It’ll wear off in a few seconds. Might leave you feeling numb, though.”
She pulled her hand away, the blade sliding out of his flesh. He fell to his knees, dropping the staff. Staring at the blade. It wasn’t a knife. It was a part of her.
“What… What are you.”
“An 11-B,” Fulka said sweetly, crouching next to him. She scooped up the staff and patted his cheek. “A golem. I was built for infiltration and assassination. Lucky kid. You got to see both sides of me! Ain’t ya proud?”
“I don’t understand…”
“You don’t need to. Here.” She pressed his wand into his nerveless hand. “In a few seconds you’re gonna need this. As soon as that wall comes down, Milo’s going to put a round through your face. If I were you, I’d shoot him first. Think you can do it? Try. Try real hard.”
His hands trembled. He couldn’t move. Blood was everywhere around him. Spreading fast.
“Now, I gotta go, sweetie. You take care, alright?” She stood quickly, taking a melodramatic step back and shouting loudly. “No, Fergus! They’ll kill you! Don’t do it! Please!”
His mouth dropped open.
Then his own voice emerged from her lips. “Run, Fulka! Get the staff to my father! He’ll know what to do!”
She winked at him as she staggered back. “Fergus! I’ll avenge you, I swear!”
Then ducked into the hallway.
Gone.
He blinked at her. His arm wouldn’t move. His fingers tingled.
Suddenly it all made sense. How Milo had gotten into the Vault. He’d used the key. She must’ve taken it from him somehow. Got it to him. How didn’t matter. Maybe she’d left it on the floor for him to find.
Then she’d got the key back from the other sneaky one. Tania. He remembered how Fulka had patted his pants when she told him to use it on the Chamber door.
That’s when she’d put it back.
He groaned.
But if she was a golem, how did she use geomancy?
Golems couldn’t use magic.
Then he remembered the explosives. Milo used them. She’d used them. Jin had always complained her magic was too explosive. That was why. It wasn’t magic after all.
He wanted to laugh.
To cackle like a crazed lunatic.
Instead, he cried.
Cried as the icy wall finally tumbled down.
He saw Mistress Vizzingbelle lift her wand. Saw the mages behind her preparing to cast.
Saw Milo aiming right at him.
“This is bullshit,” Fergus managed to squeeze out as his stiff arm lifted his wand.
Milo grinned.
Pulled the trigger.
And everything Fergus had ever been disappeared in a mist of blood and bone as his head evaporated in a blast of condensed mana.