by Sever Bronny
There were some mutterings around the table, most notably from Mrs. Haroun, who was heard to hiss, “How demonic!”
Constable Clouds winced at his injured shoulder as he leaned forward. “Perhaps you can help me fill out my knowledge of the necrophyte ways, young lady.”
Haylee gaped a moment. “I … I would be honored.”
“Good, because I could certainly use it.”
“What is a necromancer spawning ground?” Devon asked.
Haylee hesitated. “Perhaps it should not be discussed at the table.”
“Please go on, dear child,” Mr. Haroun said, “these are dark times needing the light of honesty.”
Mrs. Haroun opened her mouth to protest only to be silenced by a hard look from her husband.
Haylee chose her words carefully. “Very well. Uh, a spawning ground is usually a cemetery.”
There were gasps from the table.
“Well that certainly leaves little to the imagination,” Malaika muttered to her friend.
“How ghastly,” Mrs. Haroun whispered.
Augum held up the map. “May we have this?”
Malaika flashed Leera a smug smile. “Of course you may.”
Augum folded and slipped the map into his robe. “Thanks.”
Malaika turned to her friend, the two exchanging a blushing look. Meanwhile, Leera smoldered. Augum was just about to reach for her hand when Gabe appeared between him and Leera, offering something yellow on a silver platter.
“My lady, fine Canterran lemon tart garnished with a sprig of mint and powdered sugar. I made it myself.” His voice, so soft yet controlled, infuriated Augum.
Leera’s eyes briefly flicked to Augum. “Why, thank you, Gabe.”
Augum made a show of leaning over, making the same face Leera made when she spotted the oyster. “Is something growing out of that?”
“Looks sweet.” Leera snatched the tart, scarfing it down in one gulp, promptly choking on it. Malaika and Charissa broke into chuckles, hands hiding their mouths. Augum, for his part, cleared his throat, refusing to look at her. It was hard to hold back a smug grin.
“I’ll fetch you some water, my lady,” Gabe quickly said, gliding away. Augum tried not to glare at him as he gracefully poured a glass of water from a fine crystal pitcher. He tried not to watch, out of the corner of his eye, as Gabe returned to the table with a doting, smarmy smile. He also tried not to notice how Gabe made sure to place the water just so, and how he effortlessly rearranged Leera’s plate and flatware to appear more tidy, and how he—he finally had to look away if he was to prevent himself from suddenly throttling the boy.
“Augum?” It was Malaika, and she was smiling pleasantly. “Would you like me to have Annelise prepare you my favorite sweet?”
“No—! I mean, no, thank you.” Stupid mind games.
Malaika’s face fell, but she braved a smile. “As you wish.”
Soon a third course was brought out consisting of venison, hot buttered bread, and sweet potatoes.
“Finally, some real food,” Leera said. Much to Bridget’s chagrin, she dug in without waiting for the host.
Conversation ebbed and flowed. Devon managed to coax the story of what happened at the bandit camp from Bridget, though she only shared certain details, omitting the gruesome parts. Nonetheless, the table hung on to her every word. Soon Mr. Goss was sharing stories about their training. Before Augum knew it, the trio were once again the center of discussion, with tales about their supposed heroics gathering momentum like a boulder tumbling down a mountain, supposed heroics that sickened him with every fanciful retelling.
“Actually, it didn’t happen that way,” Augum finally had to say when Devon recounted how he heard Augum bested the Lord of the Legion in a long and grueling duel at the Battle of Hangman’s Rock. “I used Nana’s staff and the scion. It was really quick and I got lucky—”
“So you did best your father,” Constable Clouds said. “Is that not so, young man?”
Augum shrugged. “Maybe just for that moment, I guess. But it was more like I caught him off guard—”
“I told you so!” Devon said to his father as the table broke into excited chatter.
Gabe offered Constable Clouds a second portion of venison, stealing a glance at Leera. Augum was caught between trying to ignore him and wanting to arcanely shove him through the wall.
Clouds waved Gabe off. “My dear boy, thank you for being thoughtful, but I did not get this large from eating. I have a condition, I am sorry to say.”
The young servant hastily retreated, muttering apologies.
“Please forgive my son,” Clayborne said, staring straight ahead. “I will speak with him later.”
Clouds raised an arm with a wheeze. “That will not be necessary, my good man. He is a fine boy who could not possibly have known.”
“As you say, my lord.”
“Constable Clouds,” Mr. Goss began, “may I ask you how you came to work for the Legion?”
“Certainly, Mr. Goss. I was raised in Blackhaven as one of three boys. I was the youngest and the only one suffering from this—” He paused to indicate at his girth, “—condition. Healers could do nothing for me. I was called ‘Corpulent Clouds’ by kids and family alike. I was bullied and beaten mercilessly, and so I promised myself that one day I would be in a position to prevent that from happening to others.”
Devon helped him adjust in the too-small chair.
“Thank you, Son. Now, as it so happens, I proved myself able with numbers, diligently overseeing the estates of the wealthy. It was then I met a woman I fell in love with. She was as large as I, suffering from the same condition.” He glanced at Devon, who gave him a bittersweet smile. “She died of that condition a few years ago, though I take great comfort when I look upon my boy and see her eyes in him.”
The curly-haired older woman near Mrs. Haroun smiled warmly. “I can see your son’s chubbiness is filled with nothing but love.”
Devon shrank with embarrassment as his father ruffled his hair.
“When the Legion came to power, I saw my chance to contribute,” Clouds continued, taking a sip of wine. “I saw the direction they were going and witnessed the rise of the greatest bully of our generation. With my sound judgment, it was not long until I had a senior position. In the meantime, I used numbers to mitigate the damage caused by the Legion, awarding wronged families proceeds to cover their burnt homes; allowances for widows and widowers; extra rations for the young, and so on. Unfortunately, my efforts caught the attention of a lieutenant by the name of Tridian, who would later go on to be known as—”
“—the Blade of Sorrows,” Augum said, recalling that iron room where Commander Tridian put people to the question. “We know him.”
“Knew him,” Leera corrected, making oddly aggressive eye contact with Augum. “Mrs. Stone ended that soulless revenant.”
“I am glad to hear that evil man cannot harm another person again,” Clouds said. “Nonetheless, his meddling curiosity forced me to take greater care with my activities. I regret it now, but I neglected to help more people because of my paranoia. I later realized I needed a new location with a new title, where I could build a resistance to greater effect. I ascended rank and made it to Constable. Over time, I met a few others such as myself.” He nodded toward the entrance. “Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb, and there are a few others I would prefer not to name in public for their safety, as they are fixed in higher positions.”
“Please do forgive me for interrupting,” Mr. Goss said, pushing his spectacles back up his nose, “but how many rebels do you think there are in the Legion ranks?”
“I only know of half a dozen or so, but some are key personnel. What we really require is a way to communicate. The Legion uses speaking orbs, for example. Now, I have been looking into the matter but lack the arcane knowledge. Whatever means we use, the object needs to be easily hidden and only accessible by a chosen few. If even a single one of these objects fell into ene
my hands …” His face darkened at the thought.
“Maybe that’s something we can research in the library,” Bridget said.
“A wise idea, young lady.”
“Can I come?” Devon asked.
This drew many snickers from the table, much to Devon’s displeasure.
“If he comes, we get to come,” Malaika said to her father.
“Don’t be absurd, child,” Mrs. Haroun said with a chuckle. “No one should be going, if you ask me. It is too dangerous.”
“No one will be going other than the trio,” Mr. Haroun said, Constable Clouds nodding along. “That is Mrs. Stone’s wish, and until we hear otherwise from her, it shall remain that way. She is still the leader of the Resistance.”
“It really is for the best,” Bridget said, giving Devon a sympathetic look. “We tend to get ourselves into trouble.” She elbowed Leera with a smile. “At least this one regularly does.”
“Hey, I’m not the one afraid of heights—”
Light ribbing banter ensued, though Augum’s thoughts drifted back to his great-grandmother. Where was she? What had happened with the pearl? Had she left it there on purpose? He resolved to listen in through the Orb of Orion as soon as possible.
“Is there anything Charissa and I can do to help you prepare, Augum?” Malaika asked, watching him with grave concern. “I know we’re not warlocks or anything like that, but we’re quite able women.”
“I can mend and wash your blue robe, if you like,” Charissa said. After seeing the look on Leera’s face, she quickly added, “All of your robes of course.”
“Thank you, but we can manage,” Augum replied, trying not to smile at the strange offer.
“Now let us discuss the defense of the town,” Mr. Haroun said, “something Constable Clouds and I have already spoken about at length. Milham’s defense will be comprised of pure deceit.” He let those words linger a moment before continuing. “We cannot best the Legion with force at this time, so we shall pretend to be a supportive Legion community. We shall plant a Legion flag in the center of town. If Legion soldiers or officials come through—which, thankfully, will not be often due to Milham’s isolation—we shall conduct gatherings of support. We shall hear out the Legion heralds with joy and enthusiasm, making sure to send them on their way believing we are rooting for Lord Sparkstone to succeed.”
“We have already told everyone in town,” Constable Clouds chimed in, “that those who reveal information always get tortured by the Legion, in case they know more. We have done this convincingly as only Legion soldiers can do. That is why not a soul has come forward to the Legion reporting on Augum’s whereabouts—everyone here believes doing so would result in brutal torment.”
Augum, recalling a certain iron room, was all too familiar with Legion questionings.
Mr. Haroun gave an appreciative nod at the constable. “And that was a brilliant idea, if I may be so bold as to say.” He swept the crowd with determined eyes. “We will do more, of course. Meanwhile, we shall conduct a secret campaign of resistance. We will be the Resistance.”
He stood and raised his glass. “To the Resistance.”
Everyone stood, raising their own glass of wine, water or youngling ale. “To the Resistance,” the throng repeated.
Mr. Haroun remained standing as everyone took their seats, watching his wife. “I know some of you are anxious, as you should be. This is a dangerous endeavor. Secrecy is paramount. You must be wary of who you trust. When strangers come through town, we must all mind our tongues and send them on their way as soon as possible. Now let us pore over the details.”
The assembled gathering listened as Mr. Haroun traded off with Constable Clouds on the defense of the town, including guard postings and horn signals—one horn blast for a friend, two for a stranger, three for the Legion or bandits. Course after course came until Augum was feeling fuzzy and exhausted.
Just before dessert, Mr. Haroun noticed the trio’s glazed faces and stopped mid-sentence. “Where is my consideration? You three have been through an awful ordeal. I apologize with all my heart. Please feel free to excuse yourselves.”
“Thank you, I think we will,” Augum said, feeling the sting in his back and the aching tiredness in his bones. “We do need to rest.” He stood, Bridget and Leera joining him.
“It is getting late,” Mr. Goss said. “I hope our esteemed hosts do not mind if I put my son to bed.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Haroun replied. “We thank you and your son for your company.”
Mr. Goss and the trio said their thank-yous and goodbyes to the assembly, which began breaking up anyway.
“I shall see you to the door,” Malaika said, Gabe following.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you pass up dessert,” Augum said to a tired-looking Leera. She only grunted, leaning on his shoulder. He thought she might fall asleep then and there, and would have picked her up and carried her had his back not been screaming with pain.
“May we call on you tomorrow?” Malaika asked Augum, her eyes flicking to Leera. She bit her lower lip.
“Uh, sure I guess.”
Malaika bowed her head slightly. “Good night then.” Gabe bowed at the same time.
“Good night.”
It was dusk when they departed the Haroun household. Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb nodded to the group as they passed, black Legion armor shining in torchlight.
“To the Resistance,” Briggs said.
“If you need anything, let us know,” Cobb added.
“Thank you,” Augum could only say.
“To the Resistance,” Leera said sleepily as they walked off.
Augum was starting to like that word more and more. Resistance. Rebel. They were officially both now, part of a secret and dangerous club. Perhaps it was a stupid and reckless idea. Maybe the entire place would burn. They would have to be extremely cautious, for everyone’s sake.
The village was quiet, other than a few stragglers who raised a warm greeting or a “Bless the Resistance” to the trio. It felt weird to Augum to hear it said so openly. Every look their way spelled danger, every word a giant beacon fire, screaming for the enemy to charge into town. It all felt reckless, like poking a sleeping bear with a stick.
Mr. Goss shortly said goodnight and left to his room at the inn, holding a sleeping Leland while singing A Boy and his Cat, a sweet and soft lullaby.
“Think it’ll work?” Augum asked Bridget, his arm around Leera.
“What, you mean sending us by Legion courier?” She swept long cinnamon hair from her eyes. “I think it’s a crazy plan—so crazy that it might actually work.”
It put Augum at ease hearing that from Bridget, who was the most careful of the three of them.
They passed the Good Medicine shop.
“I think they’re good for each other somehow,” Bridget said.
“You mean Chaska and Haylee?” He wasn’t so sure, but then he recalled the snow-skinned boy appearing at the Okeke house holding a bouquet of pine branches, looking more awkward than a hen in a fox den. “Maybe …”
Bridget glanced at him and Leera wistfully. “You are very lucky, the both of you.”
Augum gave Leera a light squeeze. “Yes, we are … and like Leera once said, we’ll find you a proper boy one day, don’t worry.”
“And like I told you two then, I don’t want one right now,” Bridget replied with a smile. “Certainly don’t need yet another soul to worry about,” she muttered before sighing. “We have a lot of training to do. Going to be hard without a mentor.”
“You can serve as our mentor for now. You know the Summon Minor Elemental spell, not to mention the counterspell to Object Alarm.”
“I can try, but it’s not the same thing. Anyway, we’ll start first thing in the morning; work as hard as possible in the days ahead until everything’s ready and we can go to the Antioc library.”
“Hey wait up—!” Jengo called, catching up to them. “Sorry about all that, Priya was
quite upset with her mother. Then there was a big fight involving Ms. Singh and Father, then Haylee and Chaska, but things have finally calmed down. So how much danger are we in now?”
“Bridget, Leera and I are going to mail ourselves using an arcane Legion courier,” Augum said.
Jengo stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind. “Why do you three want to die so quickly?” He gestured grandly. “Life is beautiful and fun, why do you want to throw it away?”
“The Agonex needs to be understood,” Augum replied flatly. “We have to try.”
Jengo pointed at each of them. “I think you three are completely crazy.” He smiled though after glancing down at Augum holding Leera. “Just promise to be careful. You’re too adorable together to die.”
This elicited a snort from Leera, but nothing more.
“What was I going to say?” Jengo asked himself, rubbing the scar on his chin. “Right, two things—Father says you should keep the Agonex and the Orb of Orion near you at all times from now on, and also you should let me try and heal your back.”
“Your father said for you to heal Augum’s back?” Bridget asked with a raised brow.
“Sorry, I mean I’d like to try and heal your back. All right, if I have to be completely honest, Father told me not to try my arcanery on living people anytime in the next, oh, fifty years or so, but—”
“So dead people are all right?” Leera asked with a smirk, eyes closed sleepily.
“Hey, I’ll have you know Mrs. Stone had trained me some before she let that nasty Harvus take over completely. Speaking of which, tell me what really happened, I don’t believe your escape could have been that easy.”
“It wasn’t,” Bridget said with a distant look.
Augum saw her commanding those bandits with a firm voice, the absolute determination in her eyes. Something about that encounter had changed her, though he did not know in what way.
Jengo stayed silent in hopes of hearing the tale, but neither Bridget nor Augum elaborated, both lost in thought. Augum kept reliving two events: Harvus’ feet rabidly scratching at the floor, and Sal’s head exploding into red mist after he hit it with his First Offensive.
