by Sever Bronny
Leera was hunched over with her hands resting on her knees, a drop of sweat falling from her forehead. “Any news, Mr. Goss?”
“There is. The arrangements for crate teleportation are set. The Eastspear Legion warlock is expected tomorrow morning. We must be ready by then. We will test fit you with the crate before supper tonight. Oh, and I thought you might want to have a last read.” He handed a panting Bridget the Blackhaven Herald.
“They still haven’t captured Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, scanning the articles.
Mr. Goss smiled as he placed the basket on the ground before them. “I thought you would appreciate that bit of news. All right, I shall leave you to it. Good luck with training today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goss,” Bridget replied absently, even though he had already departed. She chortled. “Hey, they supposedly found an Augum Stone only to discover it wasn’t you after all. Poor boy went through quite a spectacle, it seems. Paraded him about before presenting him to the Lord of the Legion himself, who had to confirm it wasn’t you.”
“Embarrassing,” Augum said while practicing moving two stones at the same time. “Anything about the tournament?”
Bridget sat down cross-legged, folding her blue robe underneath her, and resumed reading. “Just a bunch of bracket challenges.”
Leera sat beside her and leaned over to look. “Two divisions—Lesser and Mid-range. Ten degrees are battling.”
Augum let the rocks fall with a thud. “No Advanced or Legendary?”
“There never is,” Bridget explained, eyes darting across the parchment. “It’s considered beneath the dignity of the craft to have high-degree warlocks dueling each other for a silly trophy. Besides, there’d probably be too few combatants.”
Leera shrugged while digging around the basket. “I think it’d be neat, but what do I know.”
“Temper’s dueling,” Bridget said.
“Oh?” Leera toned between spoonfuls of potato stew. “Against who?”
“Don’t know, some boy.”
“Wish I was dueling her.”
Augum finally took a seat beside them. “And Robin—?”
“Also dueling.” Bridget frowned.
Augum reached into the basket and pulled out a small bowl of hot soup. He undid the linen covering. “What is it?”
“He’s attained his 4th degree.”
Leera choked on her stew. “What? How?”
“This might explain it.” Bridget began reading an excerpt. “ ‘Robin Scarson, considered the odds-on favorite in his degree, has recently revealed he has been training with the Lord of the Legion himself.’ ”
The girls glanced at Augum for his reaction.
“Great,” Augum only mumbled. But he still couldn’t understand how Robin, that lazy, spoiled brat of a donkey, was advancing so quickly, even with his father’s help. No way was he working as hard as they were. It had to be the Destiny Stone. Why in all of Sithesia had One Eye given it to him?
He dumped his spoon into his stew. “And why can’t we have something other than bland, boring potatoes for a change?”
Bridget gave him a sympathetic look. “We’re lucky to be eating at all.”
He knew she was right. The food shortages were so severe of late that everybody had been reduced to the staples. Word reached them the other day that even the Harouns had to make cutbacks, though Augum suspected it was only because Mr. Haroun finally put his foot down.
Leera resumed eating her stew. “They deserve each other. And who cares who he trains under, we’re there for other reasons.”
Augum said nothing, forcing himself to eat the stew. He was hungry, after all. Training always demanded a lot of energy, something that showed in their toned bodies.
They soon resumed their grueling training, working non-stop for hours until Mr. Goss returned.
“You three look exhausted,” he said, eyeing them as they sat gasping and sweaty. “Ready for the test-fitting?”
Augum stood and stretched out his sore limbs. “Ready.” He was nervous about tomorrow, though he didn’t want to admit it to the others. What would the ancient library of Antioc be like? Would it be dangerous? How was the Legion presence? Would someone recognize them? It was the last part that scared him most. They would have to take precautions. Keep their hoods up, that kind of thing.
Mr. Goss led them to the village. Bystanders gawked and smiled at the trio as they passed. Many said hello and bless you and good luck on your journey. There were lots of hands to shake, lots of sad but hopeful faces.
“Word sure gets around,” Leera muttered, giving a half-hearted smile at a toothless old man that kept bowing and repeating, “Bless the Resistance!”
“I am certain you can rest easy,” Mr. Goss said, waving at a middle-aged woman with a wide skirt and a wooden necklace. “Everyone here is on our side. This town has been mostly anti-Legion since the beginning.”
“Mostly?” Leera mouthed to Augum.
“Now it’s a bastion of resolve and community.” Mr. Goss gave them a cheery smile as he walked. “A full third of the book donations must have come from the Harouns, bless their hearts.”
Augum supposed that was why they built it in the Harouns cellar, that and the fact the cellar was probably the largest one in town. He glanced up at the house and spotted Malaika at the window. She ducked as soon as their eyes met. He shuddered. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to see her inside.
Mr. Goss slowed, a finger over his lips. “Erm, just a word of warning—Mrs. Haroun is not in the best of spirits, so just, ah, stay away from her if you can.”
When they came to the door, they heard shouting from within.
“… books! What of our daughter’s learning? The one you seem to think is some degenerate liar.”
“She takes after her mother, does she not? She lacks discipline.”
“Oh, sure, disrespect your own wife, like you always do.”
“That is not what I meant—”
“And discipline? Whose fault can that possibly be, Hanad? But by all means, give away our entire book collection, and while you are at it, donate our house too!”
There was an audible sigh. “It is not our entire book collection, and we can do with some charity in our lives. And as I said before, it is for an important and good cause—”
“Dear me.” Mr. Goss cleared his throat loudly before knocking on the door.
“Ah, this must be them. Clayborne—if you please.”
There were footsteps before the door opened. Clayborne, the white-haired servant, glanced at their blue robes as if checking to make sure their attire was appropriate, before surrendering a stiff bow. “Please follow me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Haroun stood in the parlor, avoiding each other’s gaze.
Mr. Haroun greeted them with a strained smile. “Good afternoon. Please allow Clayborne to take you to the cellar. I shall join you in but a moment.”
“Perhaps you should help yourself to whatever you like down there,” Mrs. Haroun said in lofty tones. “The Unnameables know how much ‘charity’ is needed around here.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Haroun,” Mr. Goss said with an awkward half-bow.
“Please, Albert, call me Hanad, we have worked on the crate too hard together to call each other by formal titles.”
“Goodness, I certainly am honored, Hanad.” Mr. Goss fumbled to push his spectacles up his nose as his eyes darted to Mrs. Haroun. “Uh, and what a splendid house this is indeed.”
“Do you need any of its planks?” Mrs. Haroun asked, arms crossed across her chest. “Perhaps you can make a second crate for our valuables.”
“Selma, that is enough—”
As the Harouns jabbed at each other, Augum spotted the head servant’s children—Annelise and Gabe, both as pale as ghosts, watching them with those pinkish eyes from the dining room. Annelise quickly glanced down at her feet, cheeks reddening. Gabe was casually staring at them. He had circles under his eyes. Augum subconsciously tensed his forear
ms.
Clayborne grabbed a lit silver candelabra and opened a door, revealing steps leading down to the cellar. “This way.”
“Shyneo,” Augum said almost subconsciously.
Clayborne gasped.
Augum dimmed his palm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Clayborne straightened his servant gown. “I was merely expecting … a warning.”
Mr. Goss placed a hand on Clayborne’s shoulder. “It takes a bit of getting used to, does it not?”
Clayborne gave the hand a sidelong look and Mr. Goss promptly withdrew it.
“Father, may we see them perform arcanery?” Gabe asked from the top of the stairs.
“I hardly think that is appropriate, Son, and mind your tongue unless you are spoken to.” Clayborne turned to Mr. Goss. “Please forgive the outburst, Mr. Goss, the boy—”
“—but Father, I wanted to become a warlock, not a stupid servant! I can even cast a spell, watch—”
“Gabe, I said no—! Now attend to the Harouns, I have this under control.”
But Gabe raised his hand in defiance of his father anyway, and with a mighty strain that plainly showed on his face, he managed to make it momentarily ripple to life with lightning.
“I am terribly sorry for that,” Clayborne cut in, “he shall surely be punished later—”
“You’re a lightning warlock!” Bridget said.
Gabe’s angular face lit up with a glorious smile. “I am? Like the Lord of the Legion? I mean, of course I am! I have always known it!”
“Cease speaking immediately, Son, else you shall feel the back of my hand—”
“Mr. Clayborne, your son is training wild,” Bridget went on, “if he continues to do so, he may injure himself or even—”
“Then he shall deserve the injury!” Clayborne’s face had reddened. He cleared his throat and lightly tapped at his cheeks. “Forgive me, I … I am quite bothered by his … supernatural … tendencies. It is the devil’s doing, I am sure of it—all witchery is.”
“But Mr. Clayborne,” Leera interrupted, “arcanery has been around for thousands and thousands of years—”
“So has murder and theft. That does not make it right or holy. Unnameables forgive us for such heathenry. The devil will take us all for our sins and our lack of piety.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Please, this way.” He turned his back and descended, indicating an end to the discussion.
Bridget gave Gabe a look but followed. The boy’s face was crestfallen.
Augum lingered a moment while the others passed. Part of him wanted to give Gabe a few sharp words for his brazen attempts with Leera. “Be extremely careful casting wild arcanery,” he said instead.
Gabe raised his hawk nose much like his father. “I won’t stop, no matter what.”
Augum shrugged. “Suit yourself,” and caught up to the others.
“I wonder if his sister has the aptitude too,” Leera whispered as they walked down a long corridor.
“Well they can’t train on their own, they’ll kill themselves,” Bridget replied.
Clayborne brought them into a dusty room filled with furniture covered in white sheets. In the middle sat a gigantic wooden crate surrounded by piles of books.
Mr. Goss gave it a couple knocks with his knuckle. “What do you think?”
Leera cocked her head. “It’s huge …”
“Oh dear, do you think it might be beyond the warlock’s abilities? The constable requested a highly advanced warlock for the job.”
Augum leaned over the neck-height edge of the crate. In the center was a low platform. “Could hide, like, ten people in here.”
“Yes, well, the purpose of its size is to truly conceal you all in case someone gets suspicious. There may be an inspection. It is the Legion, after all.”
“But only three are going,” Mr. Haroun said, entering the room. “Please do climb in and lie down under the center platform.”
The trio did as they were told. Mr. Haroun, Mr. Goss and Clayborne then began filling the space with books.
“This might just work,” Augum heard Leera say from beside him, her voice muffled by the books.
“I only hope the warlock can manage the size of it,” Bridget added from his other side.
“We can still hear you talk out here,” Mr. Goss said, voice muted from the books. “You will have to stay absolutely silent.”
They kept piling books on until Augum heard the stairs creak.
“I had Briggs acquire us extra Necrophyte robes,” said a huffing voice, “in case some did not fit. Bring them here, Son.”
“Ah, welcome, Constable Clouds and young Devon,” Mr. Haroun said. “What do you think?”
“I do believe it will work,” Clouds replied after a moment of inspection. “Can you hear me in there, you three?”
“Yes, Constable,” Bridget replied.
“Good, now listen carefully. You will have to come back here in the early morning and be hidden well before the warlock courier comes. He or she has never been to Milham, so will be riding in by horse. You will then be teleported to the Antioc library and are to see Lien Ning immediately. She is the senior arcaneologist there. She’s really old and more than a little … eccentric, but she’s with the Resistance.” He frowned, muttering, “At least, I’m pretty sure she is.”
“ ‘Pretty sure’?” Augum muttered to Leera within the dark crate.
“Are not all arcaneologists eccentric?” Mr. Haroun asked.
“This one especially so,” Clouds replied. “You’ll see what I mean. Now, she does not expect you three, but I have written a detailed letter you are to give to her. I expect she would welcome the opportunity to help you. After you complete your research, return to her. She should be able to teleport you back somewhere near. Then the challenge will be to find your way back here.”
“Great,” Leera whispered, “he’s not even sure the arcaneologist can teleport us back.”
“Or is even on our side apparently,” Augum muttered in reply. “We’ll bring the map and figure it out.” He was not about to abort the quest, regardless of what obstacles lay before them.
“All right, that should be everything,” Clouds concluded.
“I’ll help dig them out,” Devon said giddily, and began taking books off, the others joining in.
“Any questions?” Mr. Haroun asked when they climbed out.
The trio shook their heads.
Clouds gestured at his son. “Good, try the robes.”
Devon held a pile of necrophyte robes, each adorned with black and red vertical stripes. “You’re supposed to see which fit. Oh, I’m so excited for you! I wish I was going. I bet there’s all manner of neat stuff to see. You’ll probably meet so many different kinds of warlocks from all over and—”
“Devon, the robes,” Constable Clouds said.
“Right, sorry.” He extended his arms and they each chose one.
Leera grimaced. “Can’t believe I’m trying one of these on.”
“Do you know any necromancer spells?” Devon asked as they tried on the variously sized robes.
“Not one,” Augum replied, “but Haylee knows a couple.”
“This one time,” Devon began, “I saw one of the necrophytes actually bring a corpse to life from the ground! Mind you, it was from a distance, but it was horrible, I couldn’t stop shaking. She even—”
“Devon, not now, my son.”
“Of course. Sorry.”
At last, they found the right sizes of robes, placing the remaining ones aside.
The constable turned to the trio, face grave. “Remember the following—don’t look superiors in the eye. Don’t ask too many questions. Play it meek and quiet. If challenged, say that you are from Blackhaven on a scholarly quest. It’s common to have necrophytes go there for study. Go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep.”
The trio nodded.
“Good, any questions?”
They shook their heads.
�
��Then we’ll see you in the wee hours of the morning.”
They thanked Mr. Haroun before departing with Devon, who was joining them for supper, while Mr. Goss stayed behind to dine with the Constable and Mr. Haroun so they may speak more on town defense matters. Augum, who was the last to step through the door, heard a “Psst—” from nearby. It was Annelise, and she was cringing, but waving him over.
“I’ll catch up,” he said to the others, receiving a questioning look from Leera.
Annelise shrank and swallowed as he approached. “Hi,” she squeaked.
“Hello, Annelise. What is it?”
Annelise rubbed her arm. “It’s about my brother …” She glanced about timidly.
“Take your time.”
“Malaika made my brother go after your girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Somehow, that didn’t surprise Augum in the least. In fact, it made a lot of sense. Gabe hadn’t even glanced at Leera since. Obviously Malaika had to have given up on that stupid plan.
“Thank you, Annelise.”
Annelise nodded quickly. “I just … I just wanted you to know the truth, that’s all.”
“You’re a good person. And I’m sure so is your brother.” Augum turned to leave.
“Good luck tomorrow!” she blurted, wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact.
Was it just him or did she have something more to say? He didn’t want to press the poor girl though, and so he only smiled. “Thanks, going to need it,” and strode off.
“What was that all about?” Leera asked back in the cabin.
“Nothing you probably didn’t already suspect,” and he filled her in on what Annelise had said.
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s amazing she thought something that stupid would work,” Leera muttered with a chortle, entwining her fingers with Augum’s.
Back at the Okeke home, they returned to planning. While receiving the usual earful of stories and questions from Devon, the trio soon decided that the Orb of Orion and the Agonex would stay with Leland and Mr. Goss, not that they could take them along anyway seeing as Mrs. Stone cast an anti-teleportation enchantment on the artifacts. They also decided on false names to use in front of people—Augustus for Augum, Brie for Bridget, and Leigh for Leera, just for easy memory sake. Last time Augum chose an odd public name he had forgotten it. Despite the fact he was not coming along, Devon thought of one for himself too—Derius, along with a detailed history of why he would be going and what he would get up to.
