Page 23 of Grave Situation

I consider that answer, then rephrase the question. “Do you know howwecan kill zombies?”

~Yes~

“Can the unTalented do it?”

~No~

Damn. It was a long shot, but I hoped. “Magic?”

~Yes~

That still leaves a lot of ground to cover. I’m debating my next question when one of the dragon riders steps forward. “Dragon fire?”

~Yes~

Shaky relief flows through me. A dragon can breathe fire over large areas. Potentially, a few dragons could take out hundreds of zombies without ever endangering themselves or their riders. You know, as long as the zombies stay clustered together and aren’t too close to innocent humans.

Still, it’s better than nothing.

The rider meets my gaze, and I see my own relief reflected in his shrewd, weathered face. “That’s a good start. What about regular fire?”

I nod. Great question.

~No~

Fuck.

“Magefire?” Master Cranch asks, and I hold my breath, almost afraid of the answer. Magefire isn’t actually fire, not like what I’ve been teaching my students and that we use in daily life. It’s a magical construct that doesn’t stop burning until the thing it was set on is destroyed. It’s battle magic, and advanced battle magic at that. If you accidentally set magefire on something, that’s it. There’s no way to take it back; no way to save it.

~Yes~

A ripple of reaction goes around the room. Some of the riders and healers are confused, but their companions lean close to explain.

“Anything else?” Master Samoine asks. “Any other weapon we can use, other than your champion?”

~No~

That’s… dire.

“We start preparing,” Master Cranch declares grimly. “Every mage begins training with magefire. There will be no accidents. We need to send messages to those spread across the continent. If they can, they should return here for training.” Not all mages choose to live in the City of Knowledge. Some are assigned to royal courts, and some prefer to live a more everyday life, using their magic to help people—or make profit, depending on how big of an ass they are.

“We can send riders to fetch them,” the dragon rider at my side offers, and my brain finally connects his face with his name: Hearne, the chair of the rider council. “Cut down the time they need to be away from their posts.”

Master Cranch nods. “Thank you. Your riders will be ready?”

Hearne’s smile is thin and probably would frighten small children, but I find it reassuring. “We drill extensively with fire.We’ll confer with the dragons; they may know more, remember more. Any information we have, we will share.”

“It’s settled, then. We train for war. Master Eldridge, will you need additional assistance?”

My mind, racing ahead as I try to work out whereIfit into all this, comes to a screeching halt.

“I would prefer to hold off until the professors themselves have received refresher training in magefire. But at that time, the third and fourth years should be capable of picking up the skill without the need for extra instructors. For the second years, I would like to have some additional teachers,” Master Eldrige replies.

“And the first years?” Master Leng asks.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” The words burst from my throat. “Are youinsane?”

“Mage Silverbright,” Master Cranch begins warningly, but I hold up a hand.

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