"To be awarded the crossed lightning bolts of a Chartered Mage an apprentice must complete many rigorous years of education at the Academy. Only the most Talented are even granted admission and many fail and instead become Adepts. The Academy and its Mages epitomise the principles of the Empire. Only the truly worthy may graduate from it, but anyone of sufficient Talent will be welcomed within its walls, whatever their previous station in life."

Two Thousand Years of Empire by Jahangir Amini

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As the Watch poured into the Marcni palace's grounds, Aref Tabasi spared one final glance at the unconscious men surrounding the gatehouse. They would be fine, when they eventually woke, but this would most likely turn into something of an irritant in future.

With a sniff he started walking again. He was going to have to thoroughly berate young Ester. What under the Throne was she even thinking? Were all of his efforts to turn her into a proper young lady for nothing? She really did lack both decorum and gratitude. No doubt she had blundered her way into some kind of Marcni family secret and he would need to talk them out of making her disappear. Thank the Spirits he had no children of his own. Or at least none that he cared to acknowledge.

Commander Savate was somewhere behind him. A good man, if a bit inflexible in his thinking. He would no doubt deal with the boring administrative matters. As for Aref, he was going to get to the bottom of this, extricate the girl from whatever mess she had found herself in, and then get back to his correspondence. Of course she had chosen the most inconvenient moment possible to get herself into trouble.

His nose wrinkled in distaste. He had to admit, he had never paid much attention to people's wittering about their children, but he was sure it was said that youths grew out of their tendency to mindlessly put themselves in life threatening situations by the time they stopped toddling around and learnt to speak like a civilised person.

Now, the only question was, where exactly was he meant to be going? He did not break his stride. He was in no mood to show any signs of hesitation.

A running servant caught his eye and he changed his course to intercept the man. Of course the servant tried not to meet his eye, but Aref had little patience for such matters at this point. A thought was all it took for the air to solidify around the man, holding him in place.

Aref strode up to him and looked him directly in his terrified eyes. "I am looking for Lord Rasce goodman. Where can I find him?"

The servant hesitated, trying to look around for help, but finding his head was as immobile as the rest of his body.

Aref raised an eyebrow at him and that was enough to make the man crack.

"Down in the Vaults my lord. To your left and head down."

"Thank you goodman." Manners were important after all, even if the servant had used the wrong title for him. Without another look Aref strode off in the direction the servant had indicated, allowing his spell to fade as he did.

This whole matter was no doubt going to turn into something of a pain. The Marcnis would hardly care about their servant, but he would likely have to apologise for simply ignoring their gates. Nothing too significant, he had his pride and he certainly was not going to bow before some nobles, Great House or not, but perhaps a gift of a moderately expensive Schema or something similar. He really would have to give Ester some kind of unpleasant task to make up for this. He had been far too gentle with the girl.

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Abiel shifted his body away from the Duke, only his dagger staying close to the man and caught Ruben's eye. He felt the Duke relax slightly, the tension leaving him. Abiel suspected a smirk would be stealing its way across his face.

In one smooth movement Ruben stepped forward and slammed his fist into the Duke's jaw. The Duke dropped like a sack of potatoes, nearly impaling himself on Abiel's dagger as he did. Despite the dim light, Abiel could have sworn he saw teeth fly out of the Duke's mouth.

The moment the Duke fell, the undead started moving again. All heading straight for the Mage. Abiel ignored her squawk of surprise. She seemed to be frozen, staring at him, but she could look after herself. They needed to make sure the Duke couldn't cast any spells.

He would have been more than tempted to just kill him, if not for his necromancy then for even suggesting they'd be stupid enough to trust him. But he couldn't ignore the possibility that the Duke had been telling the truth. Not about letting them live, but they couldn't risk sending the undead into a frenzy without him to control them. Getting out of this alive seemed like a vanishingly unlikely prospect, but he was going to take every opportunity he could to improve their odds.

Abiel squatted down beside the Duke and tore off some of the man's silk shirt, wrapping it round his hands. He needed to make sure he didn't touch the Duke with his skin. That would be a quick route to death if the man woke up before he was done. Moving fast, he started cutting and tearing strips from the man's battered finery. He quickly twisted them together into a gag and pulled them into the Duke's mouth, not bothering with any gentleness.

Abiel didn't pause after that, wrenching the Duke's hands behind him and tying his wrists together as tightly as he could. For a brief moment he considered just cutting the man's fingers off. After all, you couldn't make arcane gestures with a stump, but he couldn't quite make himself do it. With a grimace he instead shrugged off his coat before pulling his shirt off. The coat would have to do for preserving his modesty. The shirt went over the Duke's head just as the man started to stir. With trembling fingers Abiel worked to tie it round the man's head.

Gagged, bound and blind. If the man could still cast after that, well, they were probably all dead anyway.

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Ester stared at the thieves she'd just been preparing to kill. What under the Throne were they doing?! You couldn't just punch a necromancer and expect that to stop him! The Duke was a powerful witch. Ridiculously powerful for a witch in fact. Not some tavern thug. He should have been packed off to the Academy as a child, not running a Great House. She shuddered at the thought of what the Duke might have done with a Mage's training. The involuntary movement was enough to break her out of her daze.

The thieves were tying the Duke up, but the undead were almost upon her. She couldn't keep an eye on them unless she wanted to be torn apart. With one last look she spun to face the oncoming corpses.

"Saig." She immolated the closest, an elderly lady whose jaw hung loose and rotting. That wouldn't work though. There were too many, it would take too long. Ester's mind was racing, it was almost all too much. In a fraction of a second she changed tactics. She wasn't stuck dividing her attention between the undead and the Duke anymore. She could afford to focus and she could afford to burn more energy.

"Dolox ai'diwaien." The spell sent the closest walking corpses tumbling. That was all she needed, space. Space to keep them away from her, her arm still ached from where one had grabbed her, and space to think.

The fallen corpses were picking themselves up already, others advancing in front of them, but Ester didn't spare them more than a glance. If only she could find the right words, she was sure she could undo whatever was keeping them in a horrific imitation of life. But she didn't know the words, they weren't taught at the Academy, obviously, and simple disjunction wouldn't work. She needed something else, something destructive. She didn't want to slow them down, she wanted to destroy them. To send them back to true death where they belonged.

Stolen story; please report.

"Dolox tagae fa'saig'ai'xànjar." Ester sliced the closest corpse in half lengthways. To her eyes the razor sharp, burning edge of solid air glowed with magic, to others it would just have looked like a thin red line in the air. She hesitated for just a second to see if the two halves of the corpse kept moving and then struck again. The blade moved where she willed it, slicing through undead like a knife through warm butter. The Duke could have disrupted the spell with casual ease, but without him to help them his monsters couldn't do anything to stop her. Nor did they have the Mehrzad's resistance to magic. Ester winced at the thought of that poor soul. Another horror to add to the list.

Slashing and slicing, she carved her way through the undead without moving a single step, leaving their remains scattered in unmoving pieces across the rough gravel floor of the chamber. It felt like longer, but it was probably only a few seconds before the last one was dismembered and she could release her spell.

Ester let it go with a gasp, panting to get her breath back. She'd never had to do this much magic for so long, not even on the hardest days at the Academy, but she'd survived! She was still alive!

She stared at the exit to the chamber for another couple of seconds, but no more corpses came shambling out. There must be more down here in the catacombs, but she might be safe for now. Safe enough to catch her breath anyway. Except, of course, for the thieves.

Ester slowly turned to find the two men just straightening up from the Duke's prone form while the woman watched her warily. She could capture them right now. It was her duty to do that. They were thieves, they'd personally humiliated her and stolen fortunes from the city's nobility.

Her gaze was drawn to the handsome one as he buttoned his coat over his bare chest. Why had he… Ah, her eyes flicked down to the Duke whose head was wrapped in what she suspected was the thief's shirt. She looked back to the thief and then forced her eyes up to meet his. Before she could say anything he hurriedly spoke.

"Let's not do anything precipitous here my lady." He sounded absolutely terrified. "The Duke's all yours, we'll just be on our way."

"You…" Ester trailed off. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to say. Not after everything. She should be telling them they were under arrest.

The thief didn't give her the chance to get her thoughts in order. "Look, I figure you owe us. We just saved your life and captured the Duke for you. All I ask is you turn a blind eye and then we're square. Seems fair."

"But, it's my job, my duty…" It did seem fair and they had saved her life, but she was a Mage, a member of the Watch. She had no doubt she could beat them, tired as she was. "I can't just let you go."

He grimaced. "Of course you can my lady. Who'd know any better. If anyone asks just tell them you didn't think you could hold us and the Duke and had to prioritise." He grinned nervously, "it might even be true."

It wasn't right to just let thieves go. But if she did take them prisoner they'd be executed for their crimes, there was no doubt about that. How could she call herself a good person if she did that to people who'd just saved her life? People who'd risked themselves to fight a necromancer. Good people didn't help criminals, but good people didn't repay something like that with death either.

"I…" Ester shook her head. "Alright. Go. The Duke is almost certainly right about there being another exit from here. I owe you nothing after this." She hesitated. "But thank you." It felt odd saying that to criminals.

"My lady." The thief gave her a shallow bow, kicked the squirming Duke in the ribs and turned back the way he'd come, quickly followed by his two companions.

In seconds Ester was left alone in the chamber surrounded by corpses, with only the squirming form of the Duke for company.

The question was, what to do now? Her heart sank. How was she going to get the Duke out of the Vaults? She couldn't carry him, he was too big and even with his hands tied he might be able to overpower her.

She could kill him. She shied away from that thought. It was already bad enough hurting someone in battle, she didn't think she could kill a helpless prisoner in cold blood. Even a necromancer. There had to be another way.

Maybe she could force him to walk with the threat of death, although he must know that there was no way he was going to be allowed to live, even if he did cooperate. She couldn't carry him with magic, not all the way back to the surface, especially as tired as she was.

Maybe she should just wait here for help to arrive. Bound and gagged as he was, she'd have no trouble keeping the Duke under control. But then what if there were more undead? What if help didn't come? She couldn't just stay down here forever, surrounded by horrors she wouldn't even have imagined a few hours ago.

But she could probably handle any wandering undead and waiting for a little while didn't mean she needed to wait forever. Lord Rasce had seemed sincere about getting help. His panic had certainly seemed to be real. But then no one would ever have suspected the Duke, why couldn't his family also be in on it? If he was no witch himself, Lord Rasce couldn't have stopped her. He could, however, have let her go down into the Vaults by herself, while he gathered House Marcni's forces to help his brother. Had she really been that stupid? Was she just sitting here waiting for an army of Marcni retainers to finish her off and free the Duke? Or worse, somehow blame her for the necromancy! Was he up there telling everyone she was the necromancer?!

Something moved at the entrance to the chamber. "Tambrgh." Ester shrieked the word without thinking. The rubble leftover from her improvised Schema detonated with a crash as she scrambled away from whatever it was there.

There was a pause and then a man's voice called out. "Fucking hell girl, I know it's frightening down here, but you need to be more careful with that." His voice sounded familiar, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He didn't sound angry though, more irritated, with an utterly incongruous hint of amusement underneath.

"Who's there? Show yourself! Slowly!" Ester started moving away from where she'd been standing as quietly as she could, ready to cast at the first sign of anything she didn't like. The muffled sounds from the Duke grew louder as she did.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming in. Slowly." The man definitely sounded amused, which wasn't helping her already frayed nerves.

Ester held the shape of a spell together in her head, ready to blast whoever it was on a moment's notice. She wasn't going to be fooled again.

A huge shadow emerged from the tunnel, almost as big as the Mehrzad. As it stepped out into the dim light of the chamber, it resolved into an all too familiar man. Ridiculously tall with the hilt of his oversized sword visible above his shoulder. He stopped as soon as he was in the chamber, his hands held open with palms out. In fact he looked about as unthreatening as the madman ever did.

Except for the fact that he was down here. Looking utterly unconcerned.

Once was a coincidence, twice and it was time to worry, but this was the third time he'd appeared when she was in danger and there was absolutely no reason why a wandering knight would be down in the Marcni Vaults. No good reason anyway.

She couldn't let him know what she was thinking though. He must have some sort of protection beyond his breastplate. Despite the swearing, he looked completely untouched by her spell. Whatever he pretended, he clearly wasn't just a fighting man with a sword. She needed to get him talking, get his guard down and then she'd strike.

"What are you doing down here? Are you here to help?" Ester tried to put a bit of a scared quaver into her voice. It wasn't as difficult as she might have liked. Perhaps if she could put out all the lights in the chamber at once? No that would make her just as vulnerable.

Sir Vitaly glanced down at the Duke and then returned his gaze to her. "So that's the necromancer?" He spoke calmly and smoothly, with none of his usual bombastic bounce. In fact he sounded nothing like he normally did.

"Yes," Ester nodded. "It was the Duke." Great Spirits what if Sir Vitaly tried to free him?! She couldn't fight both of them at once!

"Ah." Sir Vitaly sighed loudly. "You look like you're about to try to stab me in the chest the moment I take my attention off you." Ester's blood ran cold as every muscle in her body tensed. Was she that obvious? "Completely understandable, given the circumstances, but if you'll give me a few seconds to explain before trying to kill me?" At least he sounded wary now, rather than just amused. It was scant comfort.

"Explain, now." If he was onto her it didn't cost her anything to let him try to explain. Maybe he did have a good explanation or maybe he'd get distracted, allowing her to strike or run.

"Of course. I'm going to show you something, it's in my belt pouch." Sir Vitaly half-gestured with one of his hands.

"Slowly." He sounded so calm. It suddenly clicked why it was so odd. He wasn't shouting, just speaking like a… like a normal person.

Sir Vitaly carefully reached for his belt with one hand, keeping the other held away from him. A quick fumble and he pulled something out. Ester couldn't quite make out what.

"I'm going to toss this over to you. Feel free to examine it, I think you'll know what to do." Without waiting for a response he gently threw it over to her feet.

Ester tensed, ready to leap back if it was some kind of trap, but nothing happened beyond the tinkle of metal on the gravel floor. After a few seconds she bent down to pick it up, trying to keep her eyes on Sir Vitaly and whatever it was at the same time. She could only hope she wasn't doing something stupid.

It was a wafer of metal, completely rigid despite being paper thin. Ester glanced down at it and rapidly back up to Sir Vitaly and then back down again. It was covered in tiny runes, carved too finely for her to even make them out in the light. Yet it looked oddly familiar. She'd seen something like it before.

"Ébair." She breathed the word and light flared from the wafer. A three dimensional image appeared above it and Ester's heart missed a beat. Even in the dim light it was crystal clear. A sword with a crown around the hilt and a mask split in two over its blade over a background of a black shield letting off tendrils of shadow.

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