The Spellbinder (Tom & Laura Series) (4 page)

Chapter 6
         
Aftermath

The start of the age of military magic is disputed by historians. Some claim it started in 1810 with the induction of the first squad of magicians into the army. Others claim it started in 1814 with the first deployment of Spellbinders and Healers against the American colonial rebels, while a small but influential group claim it started in 1823 with the discovery of the first Class A Spellbinder.

Lord Magus established a method of assessing magical talent in 1812. In essence this divided those with magic into five grades. Magical talent is assessed as a mix of two elements, what can be done and how much can be done within a space of time. Using magic is not without consequences for the practitioner and there are physical limits on what they can do before exhaustion sets in.

Grade 1 on the Magus Scale embraces the highest capabilities while Grade 5 encompasses those with a level of talent close to useless for anything but party tricks. A magic user’s grade quickly became a matter of pride or embarrassment.

In 1823, Ethan Phillips unexpectedly grew in power shortly after his sixteenth birthday. His tenfold increase in power put him well beyond anything a Grade 1 could accomplish. Rather than change the existing system a new category ‘Class A’ was created.

If several Grade 1 s can win a battle, a Class A can win a war. Each is regarded as more powerful than a fleet or a regiment. Phillips was assassinated in his home by spies of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire in 1832. Since that time, the Ministry of War keeps secret the identities and whereabouts of its Class A Spellbinders.

- from A Short History of Military Magics by Sir Anthony Barrett

Carmichael
ran as if the hounds of hell snapped at his heels. In normal circumstances such running might have drawn attention to him, but circumstances were far from normal. Police whistles sounded from every corner, constables yelled at people to get indoors and shut their windows. As they spread panic to everyone who heard them they shouted for the people to stay calm.

The constables didn’t look very calm. They looked at least as panicked as the citizens they shouted at. Each carried a strange contraption round their necks. The device consisted of a rubber tube with a mouthpiece at one end and connected at the other to a small brass cylinder. A red knob turned a valve on the end of the cylinder and was the only visible control. From the way they kept fingering their cylinders, they appeared very important to them.

Carmichael
was tired from casting the bind and exhausted from running. As he stepped into a leafy street near his school he felt his pocket become painfully hot. He pulled the smoldering parchment out of it and stuffed the bind under a cropped privet hedge marking the boundary of a small garden. No sooner had he put it down than it burst to flames.

He looked around to make sure no one had seen the blaze. A constable at the other end of the street was yelling at some people leaning out of the upstairs window, but other than that the street was empty.
Carmichael
began to run towards his school. He would be safe there.

From where she sat, Laura saw that she was only a few yards from a perfect circle of darker ground. It was as if a dusting of soot covered grass, trees, paths and benches. The circle was huge and appeared to be centered on the bench where she and Tom had been sitting. A breeze had sprung up blowing towards the city and her school. As she watched the darkness vanish she felt a gust of invigorating air blow into her face.

She felt much better, but decided to stay sitting on the grass. Tom was sleeping beside her and she didn’t want to leave him. Constables, soldiers and a few elegantly dressed gentlemen stood in the area around her.

A sergeant came up to her and knelt on the grass as he took her statement. He wrote her words down laboriously in a notebook. He appeared to have trouble spelling some of them. A couple of men with the longest tape measure Laura had ever seen started measuring the distance between the park bench and where she sat.

A short well-dressed man sporting a large handlebar moustache stood a few feet away eyeing her up. He listened as Laura gave her statement and it was clear from his posture that he did not believe a word she said.

“So you claim you ran from that bench to here?” he said, glaring at her, “All the while unable to breathe. Are you trying to tell me that you are an athlete?”

“No, I said, if you care to remember, that I only made it about a third of the way. Then Tom picked me up and carried me here.”

“He doesn’t look like he could carry you ten feet, Miss,” the sergeant said as he looked at Tom, who had sat up and was looking around in a daze.

“Nevertheless, that is what occurred. My parents will be worried and Thomas’s school may have missed him by now. So would you be kind enough to let us go or send word to our respective residences?”

“Already done that, Miss,” the sergeant said. “I’ve sent a couple of runners as we’ll likely be detaining you for a little while.”

The man with the moustache stepped forward to ask more questions when a distinguished looking man wearing a monocle strode up behind him and clasped him on the shoulder.

“I will take over now, Saunders. You start on the other statements, my good man.” It seemed like a mild request to Laura, but Saunders treated it as though it was a curt dismissal and stomped off. “I can handle this on my own,” the man informed the sergeant, who started in awe at him. The sergeant tugged at his forelock as he stood up and backed away.

“Laura Jennifer Young and Thomas Merlin Carter, I presume?” the man asked in an amused manner as he consulted a clipboard. He flipped over a few pages to find the notes he wanted.

“You,” he said nodding at Laura, “Are a 16 year old Class A Spellbinder.” Tom gasped, and Laura was puzzled. How could she be Class A without knowing about it? The whole idea was absurd.

“And you,” he said looking at Tom, “Are a 16 year old Grade 3 Healer, whose tutor thinks might become a Grade 1 according to the latest report. That’s an unusual improvement in performance for a Healer.”

“I can’t be a Class A,” Laura complained loudly. “Why didn’t someone tell me?”

The man ignored her protest and continued talking as soon as she finished.

“I am Sir Ernest Trelawney of Military Magic Department 3 and three things are puzzling me.” Trelawney paused and waited until he had their full attention.

“Firstly, how anybody could know you are a Class A Spellbinder when even your parents have not been told. Secondly, if nobody knew, why would anyone go to the trouble of trying to assassinate you? And thirdly, I would like to know how you survived an attack, aimed directly at the two of you that has killed at least 50 people in the vicinity and may kill many more by the time the bad air dissipates.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Tom said as he considered the last question, “I seemed to get a strength from somewhere outside myself when Laura collapsed, it was as though something was holding me together.”

Tom’s words gave Laura an idea. “It was the bind,” said Laura, as she put it together. “The bind I gave you, Tom. I made it very strong on the finest paper and it kept you alive.”

“What sort of bind?” Trelawney asked intently.

“I did a bind of Thomas so that a Spellbinder at his school couldn’t change him into anything else. I made it as strong as I could, and it bound him to his form….and also to his life. I hadn’t thought of that before, but binds are either living or inanimate, they can’t be both”

Tom grinned. “So you saved my life again, this time literally”

“I saved my own life, Tom. You carried me clear.”

Trelawney seized on Laura’s earlier comment.

“And this Spellbinder? The one that was threatening to change Tom, who is he?”

Laura turned to Tom to let him answer. “He turned me into a dog yesterday, before Laura rescued me. His name is Ronald Carmichael, he goes to my school.”

Trelawney consulted his clipboard again, “He’s a Grade 2. He shouldn’t have been able to do this without assistance, still….” Trelawney gestured to a man to join him and they went into a huddle. Laura heard the words ‘detain for questioning’ just before the man set off at a trot ordering several other men to come with him.

“Well, you two had better come back to MM3 Headquarters. It’s near the Houses of Parliament, so it’s not that far. It’s lucky the Precogs saw this coming with enough clarity for us to work out the method of attack. Our Farseers pinpointed you as soon as it happened. I pray we have kept the number of deaths down by our prompt action.”

Trelawney became solemn. “We cannot allow enemy attacks in the heart of
London
. We’ll inform the press it was a gas leak from a weapons factory and that the guilty parties are to be hanged for their crime. But first, let us get you somewhere safe.”

Trelawney gestured to them to follow and they stood up. Tom required a little help from Laura. They made their way to a hansom cab waiting on the grass. The horse wore a strange sort of nosebag connected to a large brass cylinder on one of the shafts and they could hear the hiss of escaping gas. Tom noticed that even the cabby wore a mouthpiece connected to a small brass cylinder and the doors of the cab had leather seals. It was all most strange.

Dominican Snood was feeling particularly pleased with himself as he walked down a corridor back to his study. The place was abuzz with rumors of an enemy attack in which thousands were dead and it was not difficult for him to work out that
Carmichael
had used their bind. That bastard Spellbinder, whoever he was, was dead and Thomas Carter along with him. All in all, it was proving to be a good day.

As he turned a corner he saw a bow street runner talking to the Headmaster.
‘It must be news of Carter’s death’
he thought and hurried over to the Headmaster’s side. “Don’t tell me one of our charges has been affected by this tragedy?” he asked solicitously.

The Headmaster turned to Snood and gave a heavy sigh.

“No, no, let us pray not. That was a message from the police to inform us that young Thomas Carter is not injured. He will be delayed because he is assisting them with their enquiries. He was near where the incident happened.
 
I must arrange a role call immediately to check that all our other charges are safe.” The Headmaster rushed away as soon as he finished speaking.

Snood was stunned.
Carter was alive, the authorities would be looking for the Spellbinder who did it and Carter would give them
Carmichael
’s name. Moreover,
Carmichael
would break under questioning
. Snood knew that. The boy was weak and easy to manipulate. After all, it was those very things which had made him useful in the first place. Snood turned and made his way back down the corridor towards
Carmichael
’s dorm room.

Carmichael
huddled sobbing in a corner of the dorm. He had heard about the deaths and he could feel the hangman’s noose tightening around his neck. What should he do? On the positive side, nobody knew who he was, and he wasn’t powerful enough to have created that bind on his own. ‘
They would not look in the school, but what if they did
?’
Carmichael
had never been so afraid in his life.

He heard the door open and watched Snood enter the room. Snood wore a black gown that seemed to envelop him in darkness.
Carmichael
felt so happy to see him. He knew he would be safe with Snood beside him. He ran to embrace the man, regardless of how effeminate that gesture might appear. He needed the reassurance.

Snood held him tight, putting a strong arm about him. The sobbing boy pushed his head deep into Snood’s shoulder. “We will be safe, won’t we?”

“Well, I shall be, boy,” said Snood and thrust his knife deep into
Carmichael
’s guts. The boy felt a deep burning inside and staggered backward before dropping into a kneeling position on the floor. He looked in astonishment at the knife hilt protruding from his belly, just above his waistband. Snood reached down and calmly twisted the knife, tearing open
Carmichael
’s guts. The boy shuddered uncontrollably. Snood pulled the boy’s head up by his hair and looked regretfully into his lifeless eyes.

“It’s a shame, boy. I shall amend my diary to indicate you were more powerful than I had told the authorities. That I lied to prevent you being placed in the hands of a better teacher. I shall tell them how much you hated Carter and how I tried to stop you from carrying out your plan, which I thought was to transform him into an animal. I shall tell them that when you discovered a more powerful Spellbinder protected Carter, you went into a blind rage. You committed suicide when the enormity of what you had done finally hit you. It’s a pity, boy; you could have been useful to me.”