by Sever Bronny
“A surprise physical attack! This is personal, folks—and still no points!”
“Ridiculous—!” Bridget shouted.
Augum had wasted no time at all though, lunging right at Robin with a sharply raised fist. It connected with his nose, re-breaking it instantly and splashing his face with blood. Robin made a pathetic moaning sound while he grabbed his face, the bottom half of which had a red boot print.
“That’s for the iron room!” Augum spat, his words reverberating through the arena and over the shouting crowd.
“A savage punch to the head that did serious damage!” Giovanni hollered. “Yet the judges simply refuse to reward a point!”
Augum was rearing back for another vicious punch, but Robin somehow managed to recover just enough to shove at the air. “BAKA—!” sending Augum flying across half the arena. It was a very strong attack. As Augum hit the dirt, rolling with the impact, Robin, nose bleeding profusely, used the time to make elaborately demonic gestures at the ground, finally evoking, “Summano valkus skeletus!”
Augum spotted a mound of freshly disturbed earth move nearby.
“The Tormentor has cast a walker, folks!” Giovanni shouted, dancing around the spot. “Things just got interesting!”
“That’s cheating!” Bridget shouted. “He buried bodies ahead of time—!”
Augum, panting, sprinted for the walker, expertly summoning one of the racked swords into his hand. The walker got free of the ground just as Augum sliced off the balding head of a man recently buried.
Robin wasted no time. “Itak oos iu azim!” and a small specter wielding a ghostly dagger swooped at Augum.
“Incoming!” Bridget shouted, quickly adding, “But watch for secondary attacks—”
Augum used his shield to block the specter, then had to swivel to block two thrown weapons—a spiked mace and a knife, the latter making a glancing blow off his back that did no damage.
“One-nothing for The Tormentor!” Giovanni said.
“What? There was no hit!” Bridget said as the crowd booed in agreement. Suddenly she made a sharp noise. “Watch it—!” and Augum was forced to repeat the whole double blocking procedure, except this time against a scythe and a war hammer. Luckily, after repeated misses, the specter fizzled out.
Augum slammed his wrists together. “ANNIHILO!” but Robin blocked it with his fire shield, immediately casting his own First Offensive, which Augum in turn blocked. The two of them traded three volleys like this, each hoping to break the other’s defenses, until Augum felt the beginning head pains of arcane stamina loss.
Too soon, too soon!
Robin, on the other hand, despite a bloody face and a mangled nose, was grinning, seemingly enjoying himself. He changed tact, pointing at weapon after weapon and hurling them at Augum, who had to keep his shield up longer than ever before, because in addition to what Robin pointed at, other weapons were flung his way. They had to be thrown by someone else, because Augum was sure Robin did not know how to telekinetically throw more than one item at a time. Each thunked off as Augum danced about like a crazed actor, the crowd gasping with every dodge or shield block. How was Robin maintaining this kind of arcane stamina? It seemed impossible relative to their ages and arcane knowledge—
“A fierce barrage now from the Legion’s finest!” Giovanni said. “A hit! And it’s two-nothing, folks!”
Yet once more, nothing had struck Augum—he had successfully blocked that last spear attack with his shield. Bridget shouted something into Augum’s mind about Erika being a vicious cheater. Giovanni was giving the judge’s podium hesitant looks, but seemed unwilling to say anything. The crowd, on the other hand, wasn’t afraid to make itself heard. A resounding chorus of boos filled the arena.
Augum pointed at the latest weapon being thrown his way—a curved short blade of some kind—and used Telekinesis to twirl it back at Robin, who took another slice, this time to the leg.
Robin gave him a surprised look, as if he expected Augum’s spell casting to be subpar.
But of course, no point was awarded. Instead, “Oh, a near miss!” Giovanni said in a voice that wavered.
“Unbelievable, Giovanni’s now scared to tell the truth—!” Bridget said.
Robin winked at Augum. His voice boomed. “Now let’s have some real fun!” He began making orchestrated demonic gestures at the ground.
“Hit him now—!” Bridget said. “While he’s casting—!”
Augum shoved at the air. “BAKA!” but he felt his spell hit something invisible—he was being blocked, and Robin was allowed to keep working the spell!
Robin’s elaborate gestures concluded as he shouted, “Summano wraithius skeletus!” Three nearby mounds began moving at once. Three disfigured bodies were soon exhumed, then started to quiver before the horrified crowd. Each body was arcanely torn apart to join anew, forming a massive beast.
Augum slammed his wrists together at Robin. “ANNIHILO!” but his lightning struck an invisible barrier. His head began pounding. He glanced up and saw Erika holding out her hands, face hard with concentration. It infuriated Augum that she was being allowed to get away with something so obvious. He turned to the tunnel, mouthing, “Erika—” at Bridget. It did not escape his notice that the girls were shaking with fury.
“Caireen’s on it!” Bridget said into her sleeve, which he heard in his mind.
Augum whirled about and raced toward Robin, hoping to summon a sword along the way—only to suddenly trip. Someone had telekinetically yanked at his ankle. He glanced up to see Erika smirking. Suddenly she tripped too—and almost fell off the platform. She glanced around with a furious gaze, looking for the perpetrator.
“Way to go, Caireen!” Bridget said, quickly blurting, “Behind you—!” but Augum had already seen the shadow. He rolled aside as a clawed fist punched a hole in the ground where he had been a moment before.
“The Hood has his hands full now—!”
“DREADUS TERRABLUS!” Robin shouted, and Augum had to suddenly focus on two attacks at the same time—the wraith, which was swiping at him as he rolled around on the ground, and Robin’s vicious mind attack.
Augum witnessed the wraith’s great arms split into a thousand tiny spiked demons. They jumped off the monster and charged at him. There was a small ocean of them, dropping in waves. He desperately tried to roll away, but they sped over quick as rats, overcoming him in a deluge. He screamed as he saw them gnaw into his flesh. He was being eaten alive, and everyone was watching.
“Three-nothing!” Giovanni shouted as the crowd roared.
“It’s an illusion!” Bridget shouted. “Quick, roll—!”
Augum rolled aside as a monstrous fist slammed into the ground, leaving a small crater while dislodging more of the demons.
“It isn’t real!” Bridget said. “It’s only a Fear attack! Fight it—!”
Augum, skin falling off and entire body stinging with bites from these vicious little monsters, somehow got to his feet and ran. He gnashed his teeth, demanding his mind do a better job of fighting the illusion off. Finally, the demons and wounds faded and disappeared.
Robin slammed his wrists together. “ANNIHILO!”
“DUCK!” came the voice inside Augum’s head, but Augum had an idea—he wanted to explore that other trick he had learned, and used both hands to point at the fireball with open palms. He exerted all his arcane might, telekinetically curving the path of attack right into the charging wraith. The fireball slammed into it and the monstrous thing tripped, squealing and hissing as it skidded in the dirt, consumed by fire.
“NO—!” Robin shouted, face twisted with fury.
“Incredible arcanery, folks!” Giovanni shouted, the crowd roaring in approval.
Robin slammed his wrists together once more. “ANNIHILO!” and another fireball swooped at Augum.
“No you don’t—” Augum shouted, and he channeled his arcane strength almost to the point of overdraw, once again curving the path of the fireball at the wraith
, which was already trying to stand. It gave a quick squeal before being smashed into fiery pieces.
Giovanni was grabbing his hair. “An unparalleled feat of arcanery not seen since the likes of Anna Atticus Stone! This is history, folks! You’ll be telling your grandkids what you saw here today—”
Robin repeatedly slammed two fists into his thighs. “No, no, NO! YOU CHEATED!”
Meanwhile, Augum felt a trickle of blood from his nose. He tasted the salty coppery tang as it dribbled over his lips. His bones vibrated from the double overdraw. Even his teeth buzzed. His stomach roiled with nausea, and he had to hold himself steady against the head-hammering dizziness.
“Focus, Aug!” Bridget shouted.
Augum, chest heaving, squinted at Robin. His nemesis had a furious look on his bloody face. His necrophyte robe was torn and charred. The Destiny Stone gleamed on his chest.
And that’s when an idea came to Augum. Now only to—
But Robin’s face twisted with malice as he made a squiggly gesture at Augum’s head. “FLUSTRATO!”
Augum winced—he stumbled about and fell to the ground near a hammer, drooling and blubbering, “Uh … we there yet—?”
The crowd gasped and hushed.
Giovanni, who had been dancing around the melee, abruptly froze, voice somber. “A successful Confusion casting makes it four-nothing. Looks like it’s over, folks …”
The arena went as silent as the grave.
“No …” Bridget whispered. “Aug? Aug, please, do something …”
But Augum only looked about dully, a simple look on his face.
Robin dusted off his hands. “Ah,” he said with a twisted smile, summoning a nearby sword to his hand. He strode to Augum, raised the blade, and glanced up at the Lord of the Legion, who stood staring down at the arena, plume swaying gently in the wind.
“With your permission, Sire,” Robin said, blood dripping from his chin. “For the glory of the Legion.”
Augum wavered as every soul awaited the verdict.
At last, the Lord of the Legion inclined his head before booming, “Kill the traitor!”
The crowd gasped. Every soul was on their feet. Every mouth gaped.
“His own son …” a spectator said in a quivering voice.
“Snap out of it!” Bridget screamed. “AUG—!”
The sword hissed neatly through the air.
But Augum was more than ready. He had fought off the initial Confusion attack and had been faking the symptoms. He rolled aside at the last moment, simultaneously snatching the Destiny Stone from Robin’s neck while summoning the nearby hammer into his hand. In one swift movement, he smashed the stone into smithereens with the hammer.
Robin stumbled back, gasping and writhing, sword falling from his clutches. “No … no …” He rapidly turned pale. His stripes flared out, one after another—from four to three; from three to two; from two to one; and then disappeared altogether.
The crowd was a frozen painting of surprise. Every eyeball focused on the center of the arena. Giovanni held his cheeks, mouth gaping.
Robin’s eyes swiveled around as ghostly figures appeared from the ether, surrounding him. Each stood firm, holding a dagger. Each glared with vengeance. Augum instantly knew who they were—his victims, those he had murdered. The Destiny Stone was karma-balanced, and now it was plain exactly what that meant.
One by one, Robin’s victims calmly stepped before him and jabbed him with their dagger. He tried to twist away from each sting, but his body had shriveled and gone stiff. The wounds bled with green poisonous-looking blood. Meanwhile, each ghost disappeared soon after performing its final duty.
Above, Erika was shrieking, “KILL HIM!” but no one was doing anything. She slammed her wrists together. “ANNIHILO!” but mysteriously nothing happened. She repeatedly tried to cast spells which did not work. Someone was blocking her!
Augum returned his attention to the scene before him. One last ghost remained. She had porcelain, waxy skin, long jet black hair, and almond eyes. She was tall and slender and, even in death, beautiful. There was a gaping wound on her throat that did not bleed. Her cold gaze was solely reserved for Robin.
“You …” Robin hissed through clenched teeth. His whole body had tensed up, as if every muscle was overloaded. His hands were shriveled inwards like claws. He was shaking, small, and unable to move.
Mya strode forth and in one graceful movement sliced his throat. She watched her gurgling murderer before glancing at Augum with a final mournful look. Then she lowered her head, slowly disappearing into nothingness.
Robin spasmed and gasped, unable to even grab his throat. His eyes had magnified to great black orbs. The bleeding from the last wound was profuse, making his robe slick like the rags of a wraith. He fell to his knees, shaking violently. Above, Erika was screaming and cursing uncontrollably. Beside her, the Lord of the Legion watched with what, to Augum, appeared to be morbid curiosity. Meanwhile, Bridget and Leera wrestled with a frantic Temper.
Robin Scarson, bloody face as white as snow and lips as blue as death, gave Augum a final look. There, in those tired and defeated eyes of his longtime nemesis, Augum saw something he did not expect.
As Robin fell forward, dead; as Giovanni kept jumping around grasping his head and wildly declaring victory; as the crowd roared in wild abandon; as Erika slumped to her knees with an agonized wail; as the Lord of the Legion tilted his head in that strangely curious way of his; as Temper passed out cold at the girls’ feet; and as Bridget and Leera suddenly hugged … Augum could only think of what he saw in those eyes …
Regret.
Face to Face
The long and slow walk up those steps to the judge’s podium was like walking up a volcano to his doom. Yet the crowd was still cheering madly, chanting his name. “AU-GUM! AU-GUM!” Even the drum took up the double beat. Boom, boom! Boom, boom! It was a symphony, a glorious symphony of resistance and victory.
“He won’t strike you down,” Bridget was saying in rapid tones. “Not unless he wants to lose control of the whole kingdom. And be prepared to execute the plan. I’ll have the scroll ready—”
Augum, chest still heaving from the battle, kept focus, preparing himself for the casting of the one spell he hoped would give him a chance. He wiped the blood from his face with his linen shirtsleeve. The vicious throbbing in his head from the battle with Robin remained, but was slowly ebbing. If only he could pace himself and renew his arcane strength. He was desperately going to need it for what he intended to do next.
And so he slowed his ascent even more as he readied himself for the most powerful and ancient spell in his arsenal. He paid attention to the rugged wood of the steps; to the square heads of the iron nails, unevenly distributed across the planks; to the traces of mud and dust and dirt; to the cold wind on his face; to the sharp flap of flags …
At last he stepped onto the platform, a platform swarming with people—warlocks, judges, attendants, soldiers, archers, and the Lord of the Legion and his Red Guard—towering crimson-armored undead warriors, flaming swords hissing by their sides. The Red Guard glanced at Augum through slit helms and he immediately felt their natural Confusion and Fear attack. But unlike before, he was now strong enough to block it.
Augum paced to stand at the edge of the platform, placing himself between the arena floor and the assembled throng of enemies. Below, the audience buzzed nervously. His eyes fell upon a sobbing Erika, who was being comforted by Vulika Vaneek.
“He murdered my nephew,” she kept gurgling. She wavered in Vulika’s arms, clutching the divining rod to her bosom as if it was her baby. The rod was black and embedded with seven polished stones, each a different color.
The third judge, Martus the Black, watched with coal eyes. Surprisingly, he gave Augum the slightest nod. Suddenly Augum realized it was he that had prevented Erika from casting those spells earlier! Was he part of the Resistance then? Or was it revenge?
The Lord of the Legion took a measured step
forward. The scions buzzed menacingly around his head, warping the space around him. He reached up and slowly removed his helm, revealing a face that had changed drastically since Augum saw him last—it was skeletal in appearance, the skin so stretched and thin that white bone showed in places. His hair was reedy and unkempt. Those now deep-set eyes, blacker and colder than when Augum had seen them last, still crackled with lightning, but less so than before. They bore into Augum as if the man knew what his plans were. They seemed to say to him, You are weak and pathetic and I shall smite you from my kingdom when it suits me.
The Lord of the Legion’s voice flooded the arena. “A noble but useless gesture.” The buzz of the scions momentarily increased with the words, as if tuned to his thoughts.
“As tradition demands, I have come for the prize,” Augum said, voice still amplified and echoing through the stands.
The Lord of the Legion smirked, as if to say, I know exactly what prize you have come for. But Augum kept a straight face, until the Lord of the Legion glanced over to a table. A single trophy lifted and hovered over, placing itself at Augum’s feet.
The Lord of the Legion smiled, showing rotten teeth. “To the winner indeed go the spoils.” He gave a lazy glance at Erika Scarson. A gray-robed attendant scampered to her side holding a coin pouch. Erika gritted her teeth and snatched it from him.
A flash rippled through the scions as the Lord of the Legion said, “He shall attempt to steal the divining rod.”
The crowd gasped. Augum’s hopes crashed into his stomach. Suddenly he felt as cold as death itself. His hands went clammy and his throat dried.
“Oh no,” Bridget whispered in his mind. “No, no, no, no …”
His father patronized him with a crooked smile. “Give him the gold.”
Erika marched over to stand before Augum, earrings jingling. She stared at him, makeup running from her tears, cold murder in her eyes. He caught the strong scent of wild rose as she lobbed the pouch at him. He numbly caught it. After just standing there stupidly, he placed it into his pocket. His eyes wandered briefly over the divining rod, clutched in her white-knuckled hands.
