A Practical Guide to Sorcery (Books 1 & 2)

Chapter 85 - Pullulation (Part 2)

Tanya scoffed. "You're in the presence of the Raven Queen, and she's healing a man without any components. What do you think?"

"Is that...safe?" Sniffles seemed torn between leaning closer in fascination and shuffling backward to put space between himself and the blood magic, but any movement was restricted by his need to keep a firm grip on Chief's arm.

Tanya actually rolled her eyes, one side of her mouth twitching up in a smirk despite the stress-induced sweat still wetting her temples. "She's a free-caster. She's more than skilled enough for something like this."

"But...where is her Conduit?"

Tanya seemed stumped by this at first, too, but finally just said, "She's the Raven Queen," as if that were an acceptable explanation. "If I were you, and you make it through the night, I'd leave the Morrows. You do not want to be on her bad side."

Sniffles shuddered with his whole body.

Siobhan was curious about the reputation the Raven Queen had somehow earned behind her back, but couldn't split her concentration from molding Chief's stump. She didn't care to do a perfect job, and didn't have the power or skill to do so even if she had. She worked quickly, then started tugging at the skin, growing it a little but mostly just forcing it to stretch around the severed flesh. In only a couple of minutes, he was left with a raw, shiny forearm stump that looked suspiciously like a fingertip. It was sloppy, but definitely satisfactory for the work of a few minutes.

Siobhan released the spell. "You still need to see a healer. I did not clean the wound."

He gave her several quick bows, staring in wonder at his wrist, which probably still hurt quite a bit but wouldn't be fatal within the next few hours at least. "Thank you, thank you, er, Lady Raven Queen. Am I...do I owe you my life, now? Or...the life of my first-born child?"

Siobhan was picking up the beast core, but almost dropped it in stupefaction at his second question. 'Is he joking?'

His earnest, frightened expression belied that.

She almost shook her head, but hesitated. Why would she turn down repayment for her help when it was offered? "I do not take payment in lives," she whispered instead, tucking the beast core into her jacket pocket. There was no way she was returning it to Tanya.

Her answer did not seem to reassure Chief in the least, but before he could continue to question her, Tanya butted in. "Mistress, is there any way to help Newton?"

There was no way to reverse an Aberrant transformation. Siobhan said so, and Tanya nodded reluctantly, her expression drawn tight with fear and dread.

'She's more naive than I thought, if she didn't know that. Or maybe just desperate for hope.'

"Well, do you have some way to get us out of here? Some way to break down the wall without the Aberrant being able to sense it?" Tanya tried.

Siobhan considered. She might be able to use the trick from Professor Lacer's class to turn small sections of the mortar between the bricks into sand, and thus open a hole for them, but there would probably be at least two layers of brick, and some sort of insulation in between them. Even if she got Tanya to help with that, it would take too long. "Silently, but not quickly," she whispered. "The strings would reach us."

"Well, is there maybe a way to travel with us through the shadows? Your shadow-creature seems big enough to carry us all."

Siobhan stared at Tanya, wondering if unrealistic, fantastical thoughts were a sign of shock, since the other woman seemed to be losing her grip on reality. The question was too inane to bother with a response. Besides, Siobhan's attention was drawn to a bright light that swept through the cleared front windows and the part of collapsed wall behind Newton.

She turned with excitement, a finger on her lip reminding the others to be quiet. The kind of lensed lantern that focused the beam in a single direction wasn't common among civilians, and someone was shining one such beam through the fog. The people up above could have somehow summoned the coppers, or, more likely, it had been the flare followed by all the previous noise and spellcasting. With the humming of the strings drowning out other sounds, she couldn't listen for the metallic clack of their footsteps that would signify the eponymous copper hobnails in the soles of their boots.

She had the sudden urge to call out for help, but the slowly searching strings were already almost a meter away from the doorway, crawling along the floor and hanging in vine-like patterns in the air. If she called for help, by the time the coppers got to them, they would be dead.

'We could write a note explaining the situation, wrap it around something, and throw it out one of the windows. They could open the storage room wall from the other side.' It could work, maybe, if the coppers had enough stunning spell charges on them and were willing to listen.

A copper stepped closer to the collapsed section of wall where Newton and the front door had once stood, shining his light through the string-filled opening. He called, "Is anyone in there? By order of the High Crown, reveal yourself!" The wand in his other hand sent out an almost-transparent pulse, likely the same revealing spell the copper team had used on Siobhan when they caught her and Oliver in that rundown building. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

The copper seemed to realize suddenly what he was seeing, and screamed over the humming, "Aberrant! Call the Red—" His words cut out in favor of a glass-sharp shriek, and his lantern fell to the ground as his arm exploded into thread.

The Aberrant's power was growing. That had been a lot faster than either of the other two.

Another copper—his partner—shouted in alarm, and through the fog and the strings Siobhan caught what she thought was the shimmer of a barrier spell springing into existence as he scrambled to back away. His footsteps rang loud as he retreated up the fog-filled street.

The first copper tried to run, too, but the strings got to his head too quickly. He slumped to the cobblestone street as the grey strings of his brain matter fluttered outward, illuminated by the bright beam of his lensed lantern.