by Sever Bronny
Ahead was a perpendicular corridor that led to ten separate rows of countless hastily dug stalls acting as prison cells. Instead of bars, powerful arcane bubbles secured each cell.
Augum dropped everything he was hauling as soon as he came upon the first cell, blurting, “Locka del quaffo,” while sticking the jailer’s disk against the invisible arcane barrier. There was a quiet hiss as the barrier dispersed.
“Come out, quickly now,” Augum whispered.
A chubby young man in a robe so muddy he looked like he had been bathing in a pig pen squinted through dark-ringed eyes.
“Augum, that you?” the young man wheezed.
Augum could scarcely believe he hadn’t recognized the ghost before him. “Ollie—?”
Olaf’s skin was taut and dry and he had scratches all over him. “Gods … please tell me … I’m not … dreaming this.”
“Yes, it’s me.” Augum helped him out of the cell, replacing him with the two guards. He stuck the disk at the entrance. “Locka del gato.” The invisible field hissed back into place just as the paralyzed warlock came back to life. He shouted and banged on the invisible barrier, but it came through as nothing more than muted thuds that combined with other thuds, for people had noticed Augum.
“They have a … great way … to lose weight here …” Olaf wheezed. “They don’t feed you,” and he snorted deliriously.
“Where are Bridget and Leera? Ollie? Where are they?”
Olaf only shook his head, mouthing, “Don’t know …”
“Can you fight?” Augum pressed, but the answer was evident, for Olaf was resting against the clay wall, barely able to move.
“Water … need water …”
Augum hovered the waterskin, sack of apples and box of supper over. “Share them,” he said, and staggered down the line of cells. Nearly everybody was in the same awful shape, having been fed nothing since their capture, and only a bit of water to keep them alive. Haylee cried out upon seeing him and fell to her knees. Jengo could only crawl out of his cell, wheezing. A gaunt Alyssa dragged herself out, clutched his arms to fiercely look in his eyes, and then hugged him, mumbling they’d “pay for what they’ve done.” Laudine stumbled forward weeping and collapsed in his arms, weak and spent. Like the others, she was thin, pale and sleep-deprived, her pixie hair caked with mud. Cry, thin as a reed, couldn’t even speak. Brandon—who Augum was surprised to see—smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes watery while he apologized over and over for what he’d had a part in. Some were students he hadn’t met, others old friends. Nearly every single person hugged him and cried, but he had to let them go, whispering he understood and he needed their help and they had little time before someone came along. They drank greedily from the waterskin and ravaged the apples. Few would be able to competently cast spells until they regained their strength.
Augum kept going, hoping to find somebody who could aid him in what came ahead. That hope grew in the final few cells at the end of this row, where the arcanists were caged. They were in better shape, but in shackles—and Augum’s stolen disk didn’t work on the chains, meaning the jailer had a separate rune key for them. History teacher Bonita Gonzalez was babbling incoherently, in the worst shape of the lot. Chappie Fungal smiled broadly, declaring Augum a Solian angel. Arcanist Gulliver Flagon pumped his manacled fists, declaring they’d get the bastards. Headmaster Byron was unconscious.
“Arcanist Flagon, please drag Headmaster Byron out,” Augum said, and was happy to see him jump at the opportunity to help.
And so it went, until Augum at last saw the face he had been hoping to see in this line of prison cells—Arcanist Abe Brewerson, The Grizzly. The man stood upon spotting Augum and nodded, lower lip curled with fierce pride. He too had deep purple rings under his eyes, scratches all over his face and arms, and was pale and gaunt. But due to his massive bulk, he had withstood the rigors of starvation best.
“I was rather hoping it would be you, Stone,” The Grizzly said once freed from his cell, hands still locked in arcane shackles. “Seems The Fates were not done with you. Is Ms. Terse all right?”
“She’s fine, sir, though still in chains in Arcaner Studies. We took down The Butcher but Katrina stole the Heart of the Colossus, which turned out to be the Orb of Orion.”
The Grizzly’s large head snapped back as if he had been punched in the face. “Unnameables we are fools—it was in our possession the entire time.”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“So be it.”
“I overheard the Canterrans talking about extermination.”
The Grizzly stared at him with those black eyes of his as if unwilling to believe it. “We must start an insurrection.”
“Agreed, sir. Is your family in Northspear safe?”
“I made everyone go into hiding as soon as I heard that Headmaster Byron’s family was taken hostage.”
“What will they do to his family?”
“His family has already been murdered, Stone.”
Augum gaped. No wonder the poor man was a shell of himself. He recovered quickly. “Sir, we need to lock the academy down.”
“And we will, but there is work to do.”
“Yes, sir. We have little time. Please follow me,” and Augum limped back toward the beginning of the row, talking as he went. “They have Bridget and Leera and I’m terrified of what might happen to them.” He stopped by Flagon, who was tending to an unconscious Byron. “Arcanist Flagon, here’s the key to the cells. Please free the others. The activation phrases are—”
“I know what they are,” Flagon interrupted. “Heard them enough already.”
Augum nodded and tottered on, continuing his talk with The Grizzly. “I’ll need help taking on Count Von Edgeworth.”
“Has the engine started up yet?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“Above all consideration, we must prevent the engine from starting up. Do you understand me, Stone? Above all considerations.”
Augum stopped to glance back at him. Under no circumstances would he ever agree to sacrifice Bridget or Leera, even for all the lives in Sithesia. Even for the Arcaner code. He turned back around and kept going without addressing the point.
Jengo was ahead, stumbling toward Augum, strengthened by the water which was being passed around, along with the food. It heartened Augum to see people sharing the meager provisions with kindness and care.
Augum squeezed Jengo’s bony shoulder. “I know you’re in rough shape, but you need to dig deep and bring Headmaster Byron around. We’ll need him to turn the academy into a fortress. He’s at the very end.” And if they couldn’t get Byron around, they’d have to resort to using the seven members of the Academy High Committee, which would lower the odds of success.
Jengo nodded as he stumbled by. “I’ll find Arcanist Ordrid to help.”
A scuffle broke out at the head of the row. Augum raced to the location as fast as his injured leg allowed. Students had tackled an overseer, covering his mouth and pinning his arms to prevent him from casting. But they were so weak it took four people to keep him down.
“Can you hold him?” Augum asked.
Laudine, Olaf, Haylee and Brandon nodded as they struggled with the overseer.
“The jailer is in the main dig chamber,” The Grizzly said as they strode down the corridor toward the empty guard stations at the fork. “And if we can get my shackles off, I’ll take on the count.”
“What degree is he?”
“Same element and degree as me.”
Augum swallowed. That meant he was an 18th degree grandmage. And he was a Von Edgeworth. Gods help them all.
“See those desks there? Pile them up in the exit tunnel and seal the edges.”
“Yes, sir.” It was a brilliant strategy that would temporarily block access from above, forcing warlocks to come down and destroy the desks.
Augum worked quickly, sealing the desks together one on top of another, but there still remained a gap for people to squee
ze through. With nothing available to fill that gap, he came upon an idea. “Shield Rune,” he said, and set to crafting the complicated rune on the floor, drawing on his experience and arcanery. “Shiendarro,” he said upon forming the last line. A black lightning shield burst to life above the rune, squeezing out the remainder of the space and making it impossible to get through without first destroying the shield. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
A guard wandered down the tunnel, spotted the barrier, and shouted, “Ho! We have a prisoner revolt!” By the time Augum looked through a tiny gap between the shield and desks, the man was gone and shouting for reinforcements.
“Word’s out. Move it, Stone.”
“Yes, sir.”
They turned toward the bright light. The Grizzly whispered strategies as they crept along. “Precision, timing, speed. You’re going into an enemy-rich environment, so you’ll have to choose wisely. If you see Von Edgeworth, hit first and hit hard. Keep him off balance. The man can end you with a single spell if given the chance.”
“But we find the jailer first.”
“Jailer first, yes. I know the unlocking phrase, so all I need is the key. He’s a huge, beefy man much like myself, which also means he’s slow. And he’s 13th degree, so odds are he’ll hit you with the Third Offensive right away.
That’s exactly what Augum was hoping for.
They stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. Ahead was a huge cavern much larger than it had appeared from above, as large as an arena. The cavern narrowed toward the gaping hole above, giving it a volcano shape. In the center rested a half-buried castle-sized hunk of jagged black metal—the siege engine.
The shape was difficult to make out because there was still a lot of detritus stuck to it, not to mention the bottom half was fully embedded in the clay. Augum got the impression that once the thing got going it wouldn’t matter. It was so much bigger than it had appeared from above, too. He had been expecting a ballista, or perhaps a catapult-like device, but this hulking chunk of metal just looked … colossal.
Fires roared in giant iron braziers around the thing. Workers bustled to and fro, shepherded by guards wielding whips. Rivican stone blocks three times the size of men were piled up against the walls. It had to have taken a great many warlocks to telekinetically move them.
Although Augum was supposed to be searching for the jailer and Count Von Edgeworth, he instead looked for Bridget and Leera—and spotted them a ways off walking up a fifty-foot clay ramp that led to the siege engine. They were in line with other warlocks, all in shackles. Augum also recognized the two warlocks ahead of the girls. One was Arcanist Jim Pedworth, the Survival class teacher and member of the Academy High Committee. The other was Elizabeth Beaumont. At the rear, guiding them up the ramp, was the hulking jailer and three other overseers.
There was a jagged entrance at the top of the ramp, where more figures moved, though Augum couldn’t make them out at this distance.
But why were the prisoners being led into the siege engine in the first place? It made no sense.
He was about to storm in that direction when The Grizzly grabbed his shoulder. “Think, Stone. They’ll see you coming a league off.”
“Then we need a disguise.”
“Exactly. And here come two guards for a shift change. Withdraw into the corridor, turn your back, and pretend you’re my minder.”
“Got it.” Augum held onto the manacles the way a guard would.
“Guard. Hey, guard! Why aren’t you wearing—”
Augum whipped around and pulled both hands toward himself, snatching the man telekinetically and whipping him into a wall, knocking him out. Then he pointed at the other one and wiggled his hand. “Flustrato.” The Ordinary guard started gibbering, “Well, Mother, honestly, I think I did an adequate job with my homework, thank you very much.”
Augum led the mumbling man into the tunnel beside the other guard and hurriedly stripped them both of their boiled leather armor and rough wool shirt, then dressed himself in one pair—pulling the leather over his golden breastplate—and helped The Grizzly dress himself in the leather armor, leaving the wool shirt because it was impossible to put on while manacled. The fit was ridiculous on the man, like trying to fit a bear into baby clothes. But it would have to do. The guards each had an open pair of arcane manacles, and he snatched them for later use, securing them to his belt. He then considered what to do with the half-naked men.
“Leave them be. We don’t have time and you need to conserve your strength.”
“Yes, sir.” Augum grabbed a whip and herded The Grizzly toward the ramp, hobbling like a fool. At last, he spotted Count Von Edgeworth. The man had exited the jagged entrance at the top of the clay ramp and wore a fancier nobleman’s version of the traditional turquoise robe of his degree. He grabbed Arcanist Pedworth and roughly led him up the ramp.
“Guard approaching on the left,” The Grizzly reported under his breath.
“Hurt your foot?” the guard asked.
“Twisted it,” Augum replied in his best Canterran accent while rubbing his face tiredly to obscure it.
The guard chuckled. “Just keep watch over that beast of a man. He looks like trouble.”
Augum surrendered a grunt as the man walked by, oblivious. He watched as Count Von Edgeworth returned to grab a crying Elizabeth and lead her to the siege engine.
“Jailer first, Stone. Free me, then we get inside that engine and yank the Orb of Orion out.”
“It’s already in there?”
“I believe they’re trying to make it work, yes.”
“Why are prisoners being taken to it?”
“No idea, but all other considerations are secondary to the Heart of the Colossus, Stone. Got it?”
“With respect, sir, I’m freeing Bridget and Leera before I go into that engine.”
“Damn it, Stone, that engine will wipe out the whole kingdom if it gets loose.”
I don’t give a damn if it wipes out all of Sithesia, Augum thought angrily. To him, there was no kingdom without them. There was nothing. But he kept those thoughts to himself and said instead, “I have a plan I’ll need your help with after, sir.”
“We don’t have time to argue. I just hope to the gods you know what you’re doing.”
So do I, sir, so do I …
They hit the bottom of the ramp and ascended just as Count Von Edgeworth tossed a hysterical Elizabeth Beaumont at the jagged entrance. There a Path Disciple received her and shepherded her inside, while Von Edgeworth turned around to retrieve the next prisoner.
When Augum and The Grizzly got to about thirty feet from the back of the line, an overseer nodded at Bridget and nudged the jailer, who was indeed a beefy, bearded man like The Grizzly. The jailer cracked his whip at Bridget and she fell to the ground with a whimper. A manacled Leera flashed him a furious glare while helping Bridget stand.
“Don’t you eyeball me, witch!” he barked, coiling his whip in readiness to strike her. But Leera glanced past him and her eyes widened. The jailer turned to see what she was looking at, finding Augum ten feet away and hobbling closer, blood boiling with rage.
“Where the hell are the others?” the jailer snapped. “I’ve sent four guards to bring every single warlock over and all you do is bring me one? Wait, is that a warlock robe underneath—”
“Hit him,” The Grizzly hissed.
Augum, conscious of how precious every arcane move was, telekinetically grabbed the man’s oafish head and yanked, making him stumble forward like a giant toddler learning how to walk. Then he unsheathed Burden’s Edge and buried it in the man’s gut, leaving it there as he shoved at the air, shouting, “Baka!” The stunned overseer flew off the ramp and bounced off the ground fifty feet below, dead. Meanwhile, The Grizzly charged into the remaining three overseers like a bull, knocking them off the ramp in one go.
Augum scrambled for the dead jailer, finding two key disks—one he recognized as identical to the key he had stolen earlier, and the other wa
s unfamiliar, which meant it had to be the manacle rune key. There was no time to give the man the Final Valediction.
“Give it to me, Stone, hurry—”
Augum withdrew Burden’s Edge from the body and flipped The Grizzly the key. Just as The Grizzly caught it, he was blown off the ramp by a massive shove spell. Augum glanced up.
Standing beyond the girls was a snarling Count Vintus Von Edgeworth.
The Awakening
Count Vintus Von Edgeworth’s eighteen arm rings flashed much like his eyes, and his Doberman-like face contorted with delight upon recognizing Augum. With remarkable speed, he twisted his hand at Augum’s head, snapping, “Flustrato.” The powerful Confusion attack slapped into Augum’s toughened Mind Armor, caving it in as if it were cheap tin plate—but failed to penetrate. Seeing an opportunity, Augum allowed Burden’s Edge to slip from his fingers. It clanged to the ground, while he purposefully staggered and glanced about confusedly.
The grandmage grunted in satisfaction and followed up with the Fourth Offensive, smacking his wrists together and incanting, “Annihilo dio.” Four glowing and viciously sharp logs shot at Augum. Augum blisteringly summoned his shield while shouting, “Mimicus!” The quadruple prongs smacked into his mirrored shield and arcanely reversed back at the grandmage—but although his eyes widened with surprise, he was quick, summoning his own earthen shield in time. The logs burst with a crash before disappearing, the force of them making the count stumble back and fall to the ground.
“Run, Augum!” Leera screamed. “Run, my love!” She continued to repeat the plea, urging him to save himself.
But Augum knew he’d be dead by the time he turned around—not that he would run. Instead, while the count recovered from the fall, he observed the details around him—the way water trickled down the walls of the cavern; the deep amber color of the clay ramp; the rush of blood in his ears—and cast his most powerful spell.
