by Sever Bronny
“How many lives?” Bridget blurted. “Your Highness? How many lives do you believe Solia owes Canterra?”
Behind them, Darby inhaled sharply. “Insolent bitch—” he hissed, but although the trio stiffened at the vicious language, they ignored him.
Hands still folded neatly behind him, King Samuel turned around and took his time strolling back, Bridget’s question lying between them like a bloody knife. He stopped before her, eye to eye, and stared at her as if seeing her soul. Her hands trembled, yet she stood with a daring and graceful poise that emphasized her slight height advantage over the king. The king’s golden gaze first examined her right eye, then her left.
“You are known to be socially conservative to a fault,” King Samuel told her. “Such crude language must sound quite offensive.”
Bridget swallowed but said nothing.
“Tell me, do you think The Path is a ‘wild-eyed cult,’ as your brother-in-war once uttered? Come come, child, you need not fear any repercussions for being honest with me.”
Bridget steeled herself. “I do, Your Highness.”
“And do you decry the notion that women are born lesser?”
“Wholeheartedly, Your Highness.”
“Of course you do, dear. Of course you do.” King Samuel’s gaze never left Bridget’s face. “Try not to be so crude, Son, lest we dispel the notion that it is they who are the barbarians.”
“Yes, Father,” Darby said, albeit grudgingly.
King Samuel gave Bridget the slightest nod before stepping over to Leera, who firmed her lips and kept her chin straight. She even straightened her slouch, growing slightly taller than him.
“She has a wild prettiness to her,” he stated, unblinkingly examining her features.
A thrill of cold horror crept down Augum’s spine at hearing such words coming from the most powerful man in all of Sithesia. But he remained composed, knowing the man was testing him, fishing for a reaction.
But it was Leera who spoke. “I am more than just a pretty face.”
Darby took another sharp intake of breath. But this time he said nothing.
King Samuel smiled amusedly. “I am more than a pretty face, Your Highness.” There was a hint of irony in his voice, for his visage was grotesque in comparison to hers.
Leera stood firm.
“Your women are impertinent.”
“They are not my women, Your Highness. They are their own persons, and the strongest, bravest women I have ever met.”
“Except for Archmage Anna Atticus Stone.”
Augum held his tongue. The man knew what he had meant.
“But this one here, this wild one, is more than just a friend, is she not?”
Augum again did not reply. He did not want to go down that road with this calculating man. The situation was perilous enough.
“You may have noticed women among my overseers, Squire Burns and Squire Jones. Perhaps that gave you the wrong impression. At the dawn of time, the Unnameables decided to share their powers with both sexes, sowing a seed of equality they perhaps hoped would one day be realized. To some degree, the arcane arts have realized that vision. After all, arguably the most powerful person to have ever wielded the arts, a great arcane artist, was a woman. Since this woman was your former mentor, I will forgive your intransigence—” He wagged a finger in the girls’ faces. “—but this once.”
Sepherin’s stare returned to Bridget despite standing before Leera. “Yet I do not subscribe to these ideals of false equality. Men have bled throughout history for women. Men have suffered unimaginable, immeasurable pain and torture. Men have sacrificed more in balance. History proves the assertion correct, for it is written in blood in every history book in existence. Women owe men—” He opened a palm toward his chronicler while he continued watching Bridget.
“Seven hundred fifty-three thousand, one hundred twenty-one deaths,” the chronicler said.
Bridget and Leera breathed quicker. Augum felt it too. A deranged, intelligent madness hung off this man like a cloak—a madness he thoroughly believed in. The realization raised goose bumps on Augum’s arms, bringing new perspective to what evil was. This was evil. Evil that believed in itself. Evil that thought itself doing a great good, a great balancing.
“Of course, the rebalancing cannot happen—” King Samuel snapped his fingers in front of Leera’s face as he glanced between the girls. “—just like that. For who would give birth to the next generation? Who would provide entertainment to those lonely men? Who would tend to the house? It is a problem I struggle with, but perhaps one day will have an answer to.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps the sacred Path can solve that little conundrum, no?” There was a distinct mocking note in the way he said it.
The Canterran king brought his hands together. “Such dreadful, dreadful things, yes? But we need not dwell on them. One of the great pleasures in life, my young Solian barbarians, is witnessing subordinates of other kingdoms claw each other’s eyes out to gain your favor. Seeing them work so fervently against their own interests. It amuses me that your own nobles are trying to assassinate you, for example, even though you would certainly benefit the kingdom. It amuses me further that they hired Canterran assassins, who they rightly know are the traditional enemies of Arcaners, to do their dirty work for them. Ask me, Squire Stone. Come now, ask me to call off the assassins. I have the power.” Sepherin splayed his hands invitingly. “This is your opportunity.”
But Augum knew in his heart of hearts that the man would likely not call off the assassins, and would chastise him for not rising to the historical and traditional challenge of it. The man was toying with him, testing his devotion to the Arcaner ethos. Probing for weakness.
“I will not,” Augum replied.
“Then you are a true Arcaner. You do not want to know how disappointed I would have been had you asked for me to intervene.” King Samuel closed his eyes, inhaled, and exhaled. “I would normally tear a woman limb from limb in public for your earlier display of insolence, ladies,” he said, eyes still closed. “With her anguished wailing serving as a warning for others. But I have brought you here for a use, as Squire Stone already alluded to. You see, we are looking for something. Surely you know what it is …”
This time, the trio did not have an answer.
“Ah, shame. I was rather hoping you had figured it out by now, or perhaps discovered where it is hidden. I have been doing quite a lot of research. Correction, my minions have been doing it for me, for I barely have the time these days. Nonetheless, they have discovered something interesting. You see, a long time ago—and you will be hard-pressed to find this in your history books—full-blooded Arcaners—by that I mean those of the dragoon rank—tasked themselves with a sacred quest. They were to keep an artifact safe. That artifact is known as the Heart of the Colossus.”
Augum’s goose bumps returned. That implied there was a colossus to put the heart into. Gods, what did the Canterrans possess that warranted such an artifact?
“That is your quest. You will do whatever you have to do as Arcaners to bring me the Heart of the Colossus. My overseers will no longer clumsily follow you—” He glanced at his son with cold warning. “—but you will be allowed to go on with this sacred quest.” But then his lips curled with a gruesome snarl. “And what, pray tell, do you think you are accomplishing with your nattering sermons, boy?”
“I’m m-merely—”
“M-merely what?” King Samuel snapped, mimicking the stutter. “Preaching your virtues?”
“Preaching the virtues of the P-Path.”
“To a theater full of warlocks?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Darby sounded like a scared little boy.
“Insufferable idiot. You are here to do my bidding, not to preen like a cockatoo barbarian royal. You will cease these vapid self-serving sermons immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I love you, son, you know I do, and you play an important role in my future plans, but if you are to preach, sa
ve it for the imbecilic Ordinaries.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just as Augum thought the king had concluded, the man, seemingly unable to help himself, roared, “And what in Sithesian hell were you thinking giving yourself a nickname like ‘the diamond’?”
“I … I was just—”
“You were being obtuse. One does not give oneself a nickname, one earns it. Darby the Dolt. Darby the Dope. Darby the Dimwit. These you have earned. Darby the Diamond you have most distinctly not. I will not hear it spoken of again, am I being clear?”
Darby’s voice was as weak as a babe’s. “C-crystal c-clear, Your Highness.”
King Samuel shook his disfigured head at Augum, as if trying to relate to him the struggles of bringing up a proper tyrant. “Warlocks indeed. Sometimes I think it is a miracle he can even feed himself. But do not get me wrong, Augum. I am proud of my son, and believe it or not, consider him more valuable than this entire wretched kingdom. After all, he is the future. My future.”
Nonetheless, King Samuel’s treatment of his son told Augum Darby had grown up being humiliated in public just like this, and because he never stood up to his father, it explained the roots of his cowardice. It reminded Augum of Eric and his father, King Rupert. It seemed these two rulers shared some common traits.
But Gods help them, Augum wished they hadn’t heard any of this. Darby would not take kindly to his enemies seeing him humiliated in such a manner.
King Samuel returned his focus to Augum as if nothing had happened. “Not everyone can become an Arcaner. Even to achieve the rank of squire requires the subject to take a certain test of moral character that only someone who truly understands the heart of the Arcaner can pass. If it were easy, I would have my own peons accomplish this task and pursue the quest for the Heart of the Colossus on my behalf. As it is, I know they would perish attempting the test, for that has always been its design—to weed out and catch imposters. It is in the history books.”
King Samuel examined his manicured fingernails, one of the few parts besides his golden eyes untouched by the plague. “That is why you shall conduct this quest on my behalf. Since the Arcaners were charged with protecting the Heart of the Colossus, it stands to reason that only a full-blooded Arcaner dragoon will be charged with the responsibility to continue to protect that ancient and sacred artifact, an artifact lost to history.”
King Samuel whimsically opened his hand, his other arm behind his back. “Mind, my own scholars think it is a waste of everyone’s time. Their thinking is that Arcaner dragoons were never tasked with keeping the Heart of the Colossus safe. Rather, they believe the Heart of the Colossus is nothing more than a benign metaphor that represents Arcaner courage, as well as the expectation to dutifully serve the chivalric code. And there indeed are historical references calling the occasional Arcaner a colossus, or a colossal force, and such and such. Hence, one can see their point. However, considering the stakes—” Sepherin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “—pray to your imaginary gods that my scholars are wrong. Pray.” He turned his back on the trio and strolled toward the silent blizzard wall. “Chronicler, please answer the daring young woman’s query.”
“At present, accounting for all historical wars and transgressions, the Kingdom of Solia owes the Kingdom of Canterra two hundred fifty-one thousand, three hundred fifty-five citizen lives.”
Bridget and Leera slammed hands over their mouths as the trio collectively gasped.
“A quarter million lives,” King Samuel said to the blizzard wall. “Think of that number. That is a vast, almost foggy number. A quarter million lives. How many of those lives do you think I will spare if you present me with this artifact?”
Augum could barely hear past the blood rushing through his ears to answer. The girls weren’t even breathing.
“The answer, is all of them. I will spare every single life. And if I had a shield to swear upon, I would do so, for it is the truth upon my personal honor, which is sacred to me.” He let silence enhance the meaning of what he said before patiently continuing. “But that great debt is due on a particularly auspicious day, at a particular time. A tenday from tomorrow marks the anniversary of the Solian Massacre, when Occulus the Necromancer teleported into the City of Ironfeather with his Dreadnought-equipped army and slaughtered tens of thousands of innocent Canterrans, almost eighteen hundred years ago. The attack began at the seventh afternoon bell. By that time, you will either present me with the Heart of the Colossus, or you will watch your kingdom pay the first of its ancient dues.” He turned halfway to stare at his Golden Panthers. “And if you desire a demonstration of the might of my thus far benevolent army, all you need do is stray from the course required of you. Or, you can bring me the Heart of the Colossus and save your kingdom from paying the blood debt. But that debt will only be absolved if one of you three brings me the artifact, for as Arcaners, I would consider the gesture … historically fitting.”
He raised two fingers, indicating the meeting was over. The chronicler stepped beside them. As the trio were herded out by Darby and his overseer retinue, King Samuel remained staring out into the ever-darkening silent blizzard, a lone figure at the forefront of history.
Lunch
“Don’t think for one moment this exempts you from any of the rules,” Darby told Augum when they returned to the castle corridors of the Student Wing. “You’ll pay your daily due and will attend class like the others, so we can keep an eye on you. You miss one class, even one, and I assure you your friends will scream in agony for it.” He was breathing rapidly, eyes flitting between them. The girls kept their heads low, sensing his rage.
But Augum was of a different mind. He saw an opportunity to defeat a looming rage that threatened to destroy his friends and his beloved. He reached into his arsenal and chose a potent weapon—compassion.
“I know what it feels like to be beaten raw,” Augum said coldly, factually. “Know that I—we—did not revel in what we witnessed. Nobody deserves to be treated the way your father treated you. Nobody.”
Darby froze, the arrow carrying the seed of doubt lodged deep in his chest. Then his golden eyes narrowed. “You are clever, but I can be pitiless like my father.” Nonetheless, he straightened, as if trying to shed himself of the seed Augum had planted. “Father has tasked you with an impossible quest. When you inevitably fail …” He left the threat unsaid, and walked off with his overseer guards trailing.
Augum hoped that seed would be enough to stay the coward’s vengeful hand. That doubt could be the difference between a simple act of casual mercy … and a harrowing, screaming death.
When they were at last alone, Bridget gasped as if having held her breath the entire time. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she gurgled, falling back against a wall and sliding to the floor. “I think I’m going to be sick …”
Leera slid to the floor beside her and leaned her head on Bridget’s shoulder, a distant expression on her face.
Meanwhile, a whole field of doubts plagued Augum. He stood in place, absently chewing on a fingernail, contemplating the enormity of what King Samuel had said. A quarter of a million lives. There were only two stark options. Resist, or conduct the quest. The former would result in annihilation, for Solian forces stood zero chance in their current state. The latter, if King Samuel kept his word, would save a quarter million lives. It really was no choice at all.
“That’s half the population of the kingdom,” Bridget said. She kept running her hands through her cinnamon hair. “Half of everyone we know. It’s a whole new level of madness. It’s …”
“A massacre,” Leera murmured.
The expectations of what they needed to accomplish felt like an unscalable mountain Augum had to climb. He had less than a tenday to return the money to the countess and prove to King Rupert he could overthrow the Canterrans and restore justice. And now, on top of all that, he and the girls needed to track down the Heart of the Colossus. Obviously, the latter task took priority.
�
�Interesting that Darby’s grandmother—King Samuel’s mother—was guillotined by The Path,” Augum noted. “And Darby’s grandfather—King Samuel’s father—died fighting Narsus the Necromancer, a Solian. I hadn’t put two and two together there, but the stage was set a long time ago for his loathing of women.”
“Speaking of, did you hear what he said about women?” Leera muttered. “I’d love for Mrs. Stone to have heard that. She’d have made him and his Golden Panthers eat his words.”
Augum had heard every word, and those words tumbled around in his brain like an echo between canyons.
He stopped chewing on his fingernail. “We need to eat.” It was the last thing he felt like doing, but they needed the energy as they had much to do. He stepped before the glum girls and offered his hands. They each wearily grabbed one and he hauled them up. Then he got behind them and gave them a gentle shove. “Come on, we’ll grab lunch and strategize.”
“Should we tell somebody?” Leera asked numbly as they plodded along. “I feel like we should, but I’m not sure anyone would even believe us. And what will it accomplish besides cause panic?”
“Tomorrow,” Bridget said. “Let Haylee enjoy her special day. Anyway, it won’t make much of a difference if they find out tomorrow as opposed to today.”
“We could tell them the Canterrans are looking for the Heart of the Colossus,” Augum said, walking between them. “Get them researching the subject, see if something comes up.”
“Yeah but what if the Canterrans find it before we do?” Leera countered. “Or what if it doesn’t exist and this whole thing is an elaborate ruse?”
None of them had an answer to these questions, and they walked on in morbid silence.
* * *
“Gods, who died now?” Jengo asked as the trio joined him and Haylee in the Supper Hall. The pair of them had already finished their lunches and were immersed in research, surrounded by books and parchments and scrolls.
Leera threw her tray of food onto the table with a clatter. A torn bread chunk rolled into her potato mash while a sausage rolled off. She flicked a finger and both telekinetically returned to their places. She slumped into her seat. “Oh, nothing special, just found out that the Canterran king wants to wipe out half the kingdom, that’s all.”
