24. The Undoer
The Undoer
“Did you see this?”
I’d bumped into the second tier class this term, which meant I’d changed from the smaller classroom to the auditorium-shaped space in Evernight, which had a huge ritual space in the center of the room, surrounded by steep rows of seats on all sides.
The higher-level course also contained a wider range of students, mostly third and fourth years, along with the handful in my year, and even a few post-graduates.
Unlike a lot of the newer students in there, I still had the same professor. At least two other profs taught the lower-level courses, so that was to be expected, too.
Tuesdays was my big academic day of the week, with Ancient Rituals spanning my entire morning, starting with a ninety minute lecture followed immediately by two hours of practicals.
Alchemy came next, right after lunch, followed by another long practical where we spent most of our time over cauldrons and forges.
Numerology and Symbology didn’t have a practical at all, only a lecture, but came directly after Alchemy let out, and went until seven in the evening. It also tended to have significantly more assignments we were meant to do on our own time, which meant my evening would be used up, also.
It also meant a late dinner, for me and for Wraith.
With everything going on with Dark Cathedral, I’d learned to get my revising and assignments done as quickly as possible, generally right after class ended, at least when I could.
That way, the material remained fresh in my mind, and I could spend the bulk of my other time on everything else.
It turned out a lot of my coursework this term took place in practical sessions, which was lucky.
It meant fewer nights staying up past midnight, trying to get assignments done in a single night to free up more hours the next day.
The toughest of my practicals by far was for Ancient Rituals.
It also had the most dire repercussions if I wasn’t paying attention.
Just last week, a mage named Carlton Roth forgot to close a portal all the way, and a minor demon slipped through.
The auditorium was thankfully sealed against that kind of thing, so it couldn’t get out, but we spent the rest of the class trying to banish it, which ended up in a lot of singed hair and eyebrows, and a number of burns and bruises on the rest of us.
Our teacher, Professor Wragnus, seemed oddly delighted by the development. He stood back, shouting suggestions to all of us and waving his foul-smelling pipe as we tried to stuff the demon back into the dimensional hole from which it came.
Unfortunately for Carlton Roth, Wragnus still docked his points for the day.
The rest of us were pretty grumbly towards him, too.
I’d rather not do that, given how little time I had to spend on coursework now.
Anyway, this class mattered to me.
More than most of my classes, the subject felt directly relevant to everything going on outside the school walls.
I’d managed to get Wragnus to answer questions about Resurrection spells and family curses already, including blood curses that prevented one Magical from harming another.
Expectedly, most of his broader answers mirrored what Forsooth already told me, but Wragnus offered a lot more detail and theory.
“Look.” Alaric pointed at the headline of the paper he’d tossed on my open book. “He attacked Marlborough last night. And an estate outside Ramsbury.”
I winced, knowing who he meant before he’d said it.
“No images of him this time,” Alaric added. “Not even in that foul mask.”
I grimaced but nodded.
After what he said, I only glancing at the photographs long enough to verify what Alaric told me.
Most just showed damage done to the stone walls of the town, and townspeople running away in a panic.
The top image had the most detail. A hillside burned there, with dark-robed figures in the foreground staring up at a castle among the trees.
When I didn’t see anyone in them I recognized, my eyes fell to the story’s text.
“I don’t see anything here about royals,” I said after a moment. I was still skimming the text as I spoke softly. “Wasn’t he there for one of the families?”
Alaric shrugged. “He might be done with those now.”
“Done with them?” I turned to stare at him. “What does that mean?”
Alaric met my gaze, his expression grim.
“I just meant they might’ve moved on.” He pointed at the paper.
“That’s the closest they’ve gotten to London so far.
They’re keeping it quiet, if it’s true, but there was some talk in Valarian this morning that the estate belonged to one of the advisors to the Magus Imperius.
Apparently a number of higher ups in G.O.R.E. live in Marlborough also.”
I bit my lip, but only nodded.
Alaric was right. Going after the royals was only part of it. Malefic would want to unify all of the Magicals, not only the royal families. Once he had everyone with royal blood under his banner, he’d go after the government itself.
Then the King.
Finally, the Ethnarch, and any lesser kingdoms.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Alaric asked, softer. “Bones?”
My stomach clenched, but I kept it off my face. “No.”
“But it’s been weeks since you saw him. He’s got to be feeling it, too.
” Alaric paused, as if waiting for me to acknowledge this.
When I didn’t, he plowed forward. “I thought you said the two of you couldn’t be separated for very long, that it would actually make him sick.
Or crazy. You said before you got sick even if you went a few days––”
“Yes,” I cut in.
I didn’t look up from the paper.
Alaric frowned, gauging my face. “Isn’t it worse for him?”
I bit my lip, shaking my head. “In theory, yes. Maybe. I honestly don’t know. It’s not like he’s ever been particularly forthcoming about that kind of thing.” I swallowed. “Everything I know is from those books. Other examples. Other people.”
I cleared my throat when more students walked down the steep aisle to my left, taking their seats a few rows down and on the other side of the aisle.
They continued talking together cheerfully after they’d taken their seats, but I lowered my voice and leaned closer to Alaric, anyway.
“Maybe he’s found another way to cope with it,” I murmured.
There was a silence while Alaric thought about my words.
He let out a highly-skeptical snort, once he understand what I’d meant.
“You think he’s in the Black Tower, living it up with Dark Cathedral nymphs?”
I shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I’m just saying… it’s not unlike his father to get creative with that kind of thing.”
“He hurts other people,” Alaric pointed out. “Even if he wanted to, you know it’s unlikely he could be doing that. His magic hurts people, Leda. I’ve seen it.”
When I didn’t answer, he continued to think aloud.
“And I can’t imagine he’d get much out of it, would he?
” he went on skeptically. “Not if he’s forced to suppress his magic the entire time, even if he could control it for short periods.
Isn’t that what he was doing before you?
When he was dating around? It clearly wasn’t working. He was a bloody mess, as I recall.”
I fought not to think about that, not to picture it, and shook my head, maybe to dispel the images that wanted to rise, anyway.
“Like I said,” I murmured. “Malefic is creative.”
Alaric slumped deeper into the seat next to me, and when I glanced at him, he frowned, returning my sideways look. I saw the reluctance there, mixed with something like empathy, but in the end, he could only sigh.
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted sourly.
When I didn’t answer, he reached over, and gripped my hand tightly in his.
I decided I needed a night off. It was Friday, so I felt slightly guilty about that, but I couldn’t deny I needed it.
Fridays were usually the nights I stayed up late working with the others, either in Bones’s room or in the laboratory downstairs. Sometimes we even met in Frumpy’s, since common areas tended to be emptier on weekend evenings.
Of course, that had changed over the past few weeks, with fewer students willing to go to Bonescastle to sit in a pub all night, or even to mirror back home to see family, friends, boyfriends, or whoever else.
With the news filled with headlines about Dark Cathedral raids, nearly one a night now, no one felt particularly safe, even in the invisible city.
After all, everyone knew Bones could come here whenever he wanted.
Many seemed to think it was only a matter of time, and they weren’t keen to be caught in the cross-fire when it did.
The government hadn’t been attacked directly yet, but everyone was waiting for that to happen next.
When headlines weren’t shouting about the raids, newspaper columns were increasingly full of arguments between the Magus Imperius and the Parliament about how to deal with the attacks, and with Malefic Bones.
More and more, it seemed a faction of those groups wanted to negotiate a truce, and not fight his Dark Cathedrals at all.
None of the articles suggested it outright, but it was pretty obvious what I’d heard in the Black Tower corridor was right: a lot of loyal Malefic supporters worked in those offices.
In the meantime, however, the fighting continued.
The Praecuri, G.O.R.E., and even the Warlock-run military had been sent out to counter the raids.
There was talk of full-blown battles across different parts of England, the most recent being in the outskirts of Manchester.
Forsooth told me they’d managed to hold off Dark Cathedral when they got too close to the Palace of the Lions, but Blackstone told me later, when it was just the two of us, that casualty reports were being suppressed, and the military and the Praecuri were taking the brunt of it.
Magical England, the official side of it, anyway, was losing.
They were definitely losing more Magicals in the fighting.