Chapter 40 – Death

The last cycle, Mirian had missed several days of classes because of her early departure. This time, Professor Marva had given her some valuable tips on the mental component of an illusion spell. It wasn’t just the spell itself you could practice, you could also practice rehearsing the image or sound you wanted to produce. Some people with poor visualization capabilities found it easier to have a small painting or sketch to look at. On one hand, it could be a problem if you used the same disguise over and over again, but it was interesting to learn that practicing art or music could enhance the quality of illusions.

Professor Runer, on the other hand, hadn’t said much that Mirian hadn’t already picked up in her independent studies. It was certainly useful to practice all the different kinds of spells she might encounter, but the class was too focused on the basics. That made sense for a 200-level class where she was one of the few sixth years. She resolved to get her second combat certification level next cycle, though, and see what Professor Cassius had to say in a 300-level class.

Two cycles ago, Mirian had seen one of the Akanan spies atop Bainrose. Her newest spellrod was designed purely for combat, and though it still had too narrow a focus, it had a wide array of force spells and a grounding spell that would deal with the lightning wands she knew the spies liked to use.

After classes, she told Lily she was heading to Bainrose to study.

“Again?” Lily said. “You’ve been really busy lately.”

“Yeah. See you tonight,” Mirian lied.

She couldn’t bear to say goodbyes. She just didn’t want to know. If she didn’t know, she could imagine they met peaceful ends.

Mirian got an early dinner from the dining hall by annoying one of the cooks for something quick. There was no way she was going to miss dinner again. That always made her miserable when the next cycle started. Then she went to the front door. It shouldn’t have been locked so early, but it was.

“Library’s closed,” the guard said.

“I need to study,” she said piteously.

He shrugged. “Study tomorrow.”

“But the test is tomorrow!”

“Sorry,” the guard said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Why is the library closed? It’s not supposed to close. I know the door locks after eight, but even then we’re allowed to come in. So what’s going on?”

“Dunno. Just following orders.”

“Whose orders?”

“Captain’s.”

“Captain Mandez? He must have said something about why. Also, isn’t it up to the Academy when the buildings are open?”

“Captain gives orders, I follow them. Law’s the law. Hurry along now.”

Mirian sighed. She could definitely keep annoying him, but even though the world would end soon, she didn’t think fighting him and trying to break open the door would go well for her. She walked away, then when she was out of sight from the guard, she doubled back and headed around the side of Bainrose.

She stared up at the museum tower with a look of determination. It was about ten feet up until the start of the old lavatory shaft. She cracked her knuckles, then went to go find something to stand on.

The cafeteria held the answer. The back of it was absolutely full of empty crates. They were there for when the Academy wanted to reuse them to ship something back down by train—eventually, they’d probably be full of the magical artifacts and spell engines the Torrviol spellforges produced—but until then, they were relatively light and sturdy enough to stand on. And easy to steal.

In the distance, Mirian heard the loud echo of thunder. The fighting had begun. She wondered what the hell they were firing at. The Baracuel military would only just be unloading by train now, and none of them were in the western edge of the city where the shells were landing. Maybe the Akanans had overestimated the readiness of the military response? Or did they just want to slaughter civilians? If it was the latter, how had the soldiers turned so fast from comrades at arms with Baracuel to bloodthirsty opponents?

Questions for another time. Mirian hoisted one of the crates on her shoulder, then used the enhanced lift object spell from her spellrod to grab another. She hurried back to Bainrose, circling around the back again so the guard wouldn’t see her, though it was possible he’d fled because of the fighting. The castle wall was slightly sloped at the bottom precisely to prevent the kind of shenanigans she was attempting, but the castle side was no longer smooth. Once she was high enough, she could jump over and grab some thin looking handholds where the stone jutted out slightly and the mortar had eroded. She stacked the crates on top of each other. The ground was uneven, so it was a wobbly structure, but there wasn’t time to figure out anything else.

The crack of gunfire erupted west of her, as did the shouting and screaming that came with it. She could see some of the flashes. Mirian missed her first attempt, scraping her fingernails and sending her satchel into the mud. The damn thing was unbalancing her. She rifled through it to grab the glyphkeys—maybe one of them worked on the doors here?—then tossed everything else aside. At least she didn’t have to worry about her spellbook or notes. They’d both be back when she died. For now, the spellrod would have to do.

As she was balancing on the crates again, an artillery shot smashed into one of the buildings south of Bainrose, sending a shockwave that knocked Mirian and the crates over. Shit. She had to hurry. The Akanans would advance rapidly from the hills to the perimeter, and she was running out of time. She stacked the crates one more time, carefully climbed up so they wouldn’t topple, then leapt.