The Mindmage's Wrath: A Book of Underrealm (The Academy Journals 2) (35 page)

Then he realized—he was going to help. He was sick of the attacks, sick of the wanton death that had plagued the school for months. If the murderer was there, and wanted to strike again, let them try. Ebon was not alone: an army of students stood behind him.

Together they flooded into the front hall, and dozens of eyes blazed with magelight as students reached for their spells. But no one stood in the hallway. There were only the prone forms of students and instructors, twisting and moaning in pain. They all pointed outwards from the room’s center, as though a blast had thrown them towards its edges. But where the blast had come from, there was no sign, for no one was burned or singed. Near the front, one seemed worse off than the rest—and Ebon recognized the creaking old form of Cratchett, the instructor who held the front door whenever Mellie slept.

“Help him!” said Ebon, running forwards to follow his own advice. Half a dozen others rushed forwards to do the same. The rest fanned out, helping students to their feet. The fallen students were older, all in later-year classes. He saw Nella, eyes lolling in her head as she tried to gather her bearings, and Isra, groaning on all fours. They and their classmates fought to regain their feet, helped up by the younger students who had come flooding out from the Academy.

Ebon reached Cratchett and tried to help the old man up. But Cratchett cried out in pain the moment they tried to move him, and screamed louder when they tried again. He was old; Ebon guessed his bones were brittle, and some might have broken when he fell.

The old man’s eyes fixed on his, and he tried to speak. “She ... tried to leave,” he croaked. “But when I stopped her—”

His eyes bulged in their sockets, and his body jerked like a marionette’s. Cratchett flew into the air, arms twisting horribly. But he uttered no sound—even when his bones began to snap, even when an unseen hand clamped hard on his neck, crushing it to a pulp. Blood spattered Ebon’s cheeks, making him flinch. The corpse tumbled back to the ground amid the students’ screams.

“Back!” cried a commanding voice. “Back into the citadel!”

Ebon turned and groaned. It was Dean Xain, ushering the students out of the front room and back into the Academy’s hallways. He helped the last few of the older students to their feet one by one.

That half-heard voice screamed in the back of Ebon’s mind again, warning him of something. He looked at the students who had been struck in the attack. He recognized them all—not their names, or their faces, but one place he had seen them all before. The Goldbag Society Lilith had started. Not a student present now had been absent from that assembly.

Yet someone
was
missing.

But then Xain saw him, and Ebon’s attention was drawn back to the present. The Dean’s eyes blazed with fury, and he pushed through the teeming crowd towards Ebon.

“Drayden! Standing in the midst of another attack? This time—”

But then Perrin was there, stepping up by Xain’s elbow. “I was teaching my class when we heard the explosion, Dean. Ebon was at his desk.”

“Ebon!” He turned to see Kalem and Theren, running out of the hallways towards him. He gave them each a swift embrace, but then turned his attention back to Xain, who still looked darkly upon him.

“What happened?” said Perrin, seizing one of the students who had regained her feet. “Who did this?”

“I do not know,” she said, shaking her head. “Our instructor was bringing us for some excursion out upon the Seat.”

“Upon the Seat?” said Perrin. “That is not done.”

The girl frowned. “It seemed odd to me. But she was our instructor. So we made for the front hall, but Cratchett tried to stop us. He and one of the students began to argue, but then—” She shook her head. “I barely saw what happened.”

“You say Cratchett argued with a student?” said Ebon. “Who?”

The girl stared vacantly, as though searching for a long-distant memory, instead of something that had happened only moments ago. “I ... I cannot remember,” she murmured, and then eyed them all in terror. “Why can I not remember?”

But Ebon scarcely heard her. For the whisper in his mind now screamed, its words ringing with clarity for the first time. He stepped back, hoping not to be noticed, and took the sleeves of Theren and Kalem, drawing them close as they turned.

“The front door,” he whispered. “It is open.”

“What of it?” said Theren.

“The murderer escaped.”

Kalem looked uneasy. “You cannot know that. They could have remained inside.”

“I know it,” said Ebon. “Because I know who it was.”

Theren jerked in surprise. “You do? Who?”

“In a moment. We must go after them.”

Kalem groaned. “Ebon ...”

“They are not watching us. Go ...
now.”

He ran for the door, and his friends came behind him. No one saw them, no one shouted, and then they were in the city, fleeing through snow to the east of the Seat.

“We will most likely be expelled now,” Kalem panted at Ebon’s side. “So will you please tell me, Ebon, what we are doing?”

“All this time, we have been searching for the power behind Lilith. We wondered who held her under mindwyrd—and she
was
under mindwyrd, but other times, she was not, though we believed that she was.”

“What?” said Theren. “Your words are senseless. Were you struck in the head?”

“A moment.”

Ebon stopped at the corner of a building and looked back, to where he could just see the Academy entrance many streets away. But no one had pursued them. The street was empty, and the doorway remained clear.

“They are not coming after us,” he said. “That is good. I think. Come.”

And Ebon ran on. They followed him, east through the streets, through alleys and busy marketplaces. At last he skidded to a stop, doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

“Where are we?” said Theren. “Why have you stopped here?”

“To rest. But only for a moment,” said Ebon. “We will not want to be winded when we round the next corner.”

Theren stood before him, hands at her hips. “Enough, Ebon. What is going on?”

He grimaced. “We have no time.”

She gave him a harsh look. “And after we spent weeks pursuing Lilith, only to falsely accuse her, I think this time I would rather be sure before I follow you blindly.”

Ebon gave a frustrated growl. “Very well. Last night, Mako took me out into the city. He said he needed my help, for he suspected my uncle Matami had a hand in Lilith’s deeds. But Matami knew nothing of Lilith.”

“Are you certain?” said Kalem. “What if he lied?”

“He did not,” said Ebon, his voice flat. “Mako put him to the question, and in the end, he slit his throat.”

Theren’s face hardened. Kalem gasped, and put a hand on the wall beside him to steady himself. But Ebon only shook his head.

“I know your horror,” he said. “Know that I did not wish it, and tried to stop him. I will live with what I saw for the rest of my days. But that is a matter for another time. Mako thought Matami was ignorant of Lilith because my father, Shay, kept the truth from him. But Shay is not guilty of this—it was another student at the Academy.”

“How?” said Theren. “We know Lilith was under mindwyrd, and so were several others. What student could have had access to magestones—except for Lilith and Oren themselves, who we know were not the culprits?”

“Not magestones. Kekhit’s amulet. The book said it gave her the power to cast darkfire
without
magestones. What if that was not all it did—what if it acted as magestones for any wizard, not just a firemage?”

Theren’s eyes widened. “A mindmage. They would have mindwyrd, with no need to consume the stones, and none of the evils such consumption would bring upon them.”

“And their eyes would not glow when casting their spells,” Ebon said softly. “For that, too, was the power of Kekhit. Do you remember what the book said? She could hide the glow in her eyes when she cast her spells. And the logbook said that the amulet’s powers were hers. The wizard could have been right before our eyes, and we would never have known.”

That sent them reeling. Theren paced, and then balled a fist to slam it into the home’s wall. A smattering of snow slid from the roof onto their heads. “But who?” said Kalem. “You said you knew who it was.”

“Adara said the lovers have seen a girl skulking about the Seat,” said Ebon. “And only one girl was there during every attack.”

Theren rounded on him. “Nella. Lilith’s so-called friend.”

Ebon shook his head. “No. Her friendship is true. She could have done it—killing Credell after trying to breach the vaults, and then Oren once he realized what was going on. But Vali, too, was killed. And that was not part of stealing the artifacts from the vaults. That was because he was Astrea’s friend, and a goldbag.”

“Astrea’s friend?” Kalem’s eyes went wide. “Sky above. Isra.”

“Yes,” said Ebon. “Isra. She was there every time. I thought it odd that every death was so horrifying for Astrea, and that she was there for each of them. But she was only there because Isra brought her, so that she would have an excuse for being present.”

“The conniving bitch,” Theren whispered. “I will kill her.”

“No,” said Ebon. “We must capture her and deliver her to the King’s justice.”

“She deserves death.”

Ebon lifted his chin, heart blazing with fury. “And she will find it—by the King’s law.”

Kalem stepped between them to interrupt. “But Ebon, I still do not understand. Why are we here, and not in the Academy trying to find her? We should help.”

“Because she is not in the Academy. I was a fool, and believed what Xain wanted me to. Dasko was not helping Xain move into his new home. He was helping Xain move artifacts out of the Academy.”

Kalem gawked. “Into his house?”

“Where no doubt he has all manner of magical defenses,” said Ebon. “They hoped to keep them safe, perhaps thinking the thief would not know where they had been moved. But do you remember what Adara told us, about the student who had been seen lurking about the city? I think that was Isra. If I am right, she makes for Xain’s house even now, to take as many artifacts as she can lay her hands on.”

“That is a mighty leap of thought,” said Theren.

Ebon spread his hands. “Once I realized it had to be her, I knew there must be a reason for her outburst in the front hall. She was leaving the Academy, because she knew the artifacts she desired were no longer there.”

“But if you are right, why did we not tell the others?” said Kalem. “The instructors, the faculty? They should be here now, to help us defeat her.”

“Do you think Xain would have believed me?” said Ebon, scowling. “Who knows how long we would have wasted trying to convince him, and then Isra would have escaped. And too many have suffered because of my mistakes already. I will not drag them along with me now.”

Mako’s voice came from the sky. “Ebon has always been such a noble boy.” Then he dropped from the roof above them, landing catlike in the street.

In an instant Theren had raised her hands, and her eyes blazed with magelight. “Who are you?”

Ebon put a hand on her arm. “This is Mako. He works for my family. How did you know to find us here?”

Mako shrugged. “I did not. I was watching the home of the Academy’s new Dean when I saw a girl arrive. She slew the guards as fast as blinking and entered the house, but I could not follow her, for she erected a barrier of spells. I meant to fetch you from the Academy, and yet here I find you ready to serve.”

“You think we will serve you?” said Theren. “I do not know you, save that Ebon tells us he saw you murder a man last night.”

Ebon quailed as Mako gave him a withering glare. “Ebon is more flap-lipped than might be wished, it seems.”

“There is no time for this,” said Ebon. “Even now Isra is in Xain’s home, mayhap stealing artifacts as we speak. We must stop her. Mako, will you help us?”

The bodyguard shrugged. “Why not? I had nothing else to do this day.”

“Thank you,” Ebon said earnestly. “Now come.”

He stole around the corner, and the others followed. There was Xain’s house—and there, as Mako had said, were the bodies of the guards Isra had slain. It had been the Mystics and High King’s guard on the street, and in death they embraced one another in pairs, each with a sword buried in the other’s belly. Kalem’s face went Elf-white as he beheld them.

“Mindwyrd,” said Ebon. “She must have made them kill each other. Mako, do not let her speak to you, or she will—”

“I know mindwyrd, boy,” Mako snarled. “See to your own safety, and I will see to mine.”

They reached the door. Theren rolled her shoulders. “I feel her spell. She put a barrier upon the door to keep it shut.”

“Then we must find another way in,” said Kalem. “If she has the amulet, her magic is backed by the strength of magestones. You cannot hope to break the enchantment.”

Theren’s eyes glowed. “We shall see. I think she made this barrier in haste.”

She held forth a hand, reaching out with her power. Ebon saw a sort of shimmering in the air before the door, like waves of heat escaping a fire. But nothing else happened, and after a long moment, Ebon felt his sense of urgency growing.