by Sever Bronny
“And now let us hear of news from our secret Resistance colleagues in Antioc,” Constable Clouds said, coughing while shuffling parchments. He glanced up. “Miss Burns?”
Bridget bolted straight. “Um …” She began rifling through her pockets, only to freeze. Augum realized the awful truth … she had forgotten the Exot orb in her cabin.
For a moment the table just stared at her as she sat with a face that had drained of all color.
“I … I am so sorry, everyone, I seem to have … I seem to have forgotten the orb.”
“I knew it,” Charissa blurted. Beside her, Malaika, who had been watching them particularly keenly that morning, leaned forward. “How irresponsible of you. What if an urgent message needed to be heard?”
“I’ll … I’ll retrieve it right away.” Bridget stood awkwardly. “Forgive me, everyone.”
Augum could see her trying to hold it together as she hurried out. He knew her well enough to know she was going to burst out crying the moment she was out of sight. This was devastating for her. She was supposed to be the model of responsibility. How he wished they had never gone to Bowlander’s, or at least ended the night earlier.
“Right,” Constable Clouds said, clearing his throat gently. “Let us move on—” and the meeting crawled forward with more than a few quiet whispers. Augum noticed Leera was looking a little peaked. Gods, what if she had to throw up again? He found her hand under the table and squeezed. It was clammy and cold. She slipped him a worried look, but then bit her lip and gave a slight nod, telling him she’d try to persevere through the meeting.
Bridget soon returned, reporting, “No news, I am afraid, my lords and ladies.” Her nose and eyes were red, indicating she had indeed been crying. She sat down beside Leera, body tense and jaw clenched, and stared straight ahead. Augum could see the self-recrimination rolling through her mind. It mirrored his own.
Breakfast was soon served—a small egg, two pieces of bread, a few leaves of salad, and some water. A far cry from last night’s feast.
Bridget and Leera both squirmed a little at first, but managed to consume the meal. Each drank more than their fill of water.
The faces of those around the table turned away when Augum glanced at them. He had a sick feeling they knew what had transpired. The shame of it made him want to melt into his seat and disappear.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Stone sat silent, watching them. The trio dared not meet her gaze. To Augum, it was utter torture. He couldn’t escape the worry she was just waiting for the right time to thoroughly and publicly chastise them.
Please let this day go by quickly, Augum found himself hoping. Please …
“… and finally, let us hear from our esteemed archmage on the matter of yesterday’s attack,” Mr. Haroun finished saying, putting down his fork. Augum realized he had not looked at the trio all morning, a thought that made him shift uneasily in his chair.
Mrs. Stone nodded gravely. She had been picking at her meal with shaky hands, and did not seem to have eaten much. “If I recall my research correctly, there is some historical precedence to what is occurring—” Suddenly she broke out in a fit of coughing and had to be stabilized by Annelise and her brother Gabe. Worried looks were exchanged around the table.
Mr. Haroun squared his jaw. “Where is Lord Bowlander’s concoction? He promised it yesterday. Clayborne—”
The middle-aged servant with high cheekbones and a stiff bearing immediately appeared by Mr. Haroun’s side. “My lord.”
“Please find out when Lord Bowlander will have his first batch ready. Oh, and Clayborne?”
“My lord?”
“Ask him why he is not at this meeting.”
Clayborne gave a crisp bow and departed.
“Please go on, Mrs. Stone.”
Mrs. Stone waved off the young servants, though they hovered near. Her voice was weak, gasping and painfully slow. “Necromancy has and always will be an evolving arcane art. Whereas classical arcanery is structured and well founded, necromancy is still being molded and explored. There are no constraints or limitations. My grandson, Lord Sparkstone, has taken it upon … himself to explore …” She began wheezing with difficulty. “New branches … in the dark art. It seems he is meeting … some … success—” Suddenly her body gave way and she collapsed into Annelise and Gabe’s arms.
Scramble
Everyone quickly stood as Jengo rushed over to an unconscious Mrs. Stone. “Lay her on the floor, I must examine her.” Gabe and Augum gently lowered her while Annelise fetched a pillow and blanket.
“Is … is she all right?” Augum asked, voice cracking. She felt so light in his arms, like a wisp of cotton. The whole room looked on, faces tight with anxiety.
“Shyneo.” Jengo’s palm lit up with a gentle white glow. He placed his hand on her chest and closed his eyes, whispering an incantation. For a long moment, nobody breathed. After what felt like forever, his light faded into darkness. He slowly opened his eyes and raised his hand uncertainly. Then he realized everyone was watching him and swallowed.
“Nothing too serious, just a minor episode that comes naturally with aging. She is most exhausted. Perhaps that elixir Lord Bowlander was charged with concocting may help—”
There was a ruckus in the hall. A moment later, Clayborne and Charles Poorman strode in, huffing. The stubby servant of Lord Bowlander held a small purple velvet pouch, from which came the sound of clinking glass.
Charles stiffened at the sight of an unconscious Mrs. Stone. He immediately strode over with the pouch, handing it to Jengo, his face flushed. “Lord Bowlander finished these this morning and apologizes for his tardiness. He is … unwell.”
Augum tried to ignore the glances his way while he gave Bridget and Leera a questioning look. Bowlander had been drunk; how had he been able to safely concoct what, by all accounts, sounded like a complex potion?
Jengo opened the pouch, removed a tiny vial filled with black liquid, and unstoppered it. He then placed it to Mrs. Stone’s lips and tipped the contents into her mouth. She bolted upright, gasping, but wide-eyed and alert.
“Ah, I dare say that has quite the kick,” she muttered, much to everyone’s relief. She took one look around before scrunching her brows. “Does this spectacle amuse you all?” She reached for her staff while everyone hastily muttered an apology, taking their seats. Augum and Gabe carefully helped her stand. Charles Poorman bowed and stepped back to take his place as a dutiful servant. Augum made sure to mouth “Thank you” to him, to which he only dropped his eyes, deepening Augum’s suspicions about Bowlander.
Jengo handed the pouch to the venerable elder, whispering, “One a day should do it, Mrs. Stone, every morning with the crow of the rooster.”
She grunted her thanks and Jengo took up a watchful place nearby.
She sat up straighter now and hardly wheezed at all. Yet Augum worried about the elixir and Bowlander’s competence in arcane potion craft. After last night, he did not trust him at all.
Mrs. Stone flinched in her chair, “Excuse me?” People turned in her direction, wondering who she was speaking to, yet she was facing Charles Poorman, who looked around uncertainly.
Mrs. Stone became aware of everyone watching her and cleared her throat.
The trio exchanged glances.
Just as they readied to return to the meeting, there came the sound of heavy boots. Lieutenant Briggs soon appeared holding a bundle of parchment.
“Fair morning to you all. Forgive me for my tardiness, but I had to chase the herald down. They are so afraid of the undead that I find myself riding closer to Eastspear each day. Anyhow, here is today’s Antioc Herald.” He began hurriedly dispersing the parchments.
Leera soon received a copy and Augum and Bridget squished in to read over her shoulder. There was the usual news of the famine being blamed on other kingdoms, something about sanctions and unfair trade practices that might lead to war. There was also the usual bit about necrophytes training harder than ever.
“As expected, no mention of the undead scourge menacing the countryside,” Mr. Okeke said. “Or the riots.” There had been anti-Legion riots ever since Augum’s arena victory, but now there were food riots as well. The famine was taking its toll.
“Yet miraculously, recruitment numbers are at an all time high,” Constable Clouds said, tossing his copy onto the table with disgust.
“More on us,” Leera croaked, and she began reading aloud in a halting whisper. “ ‘The villainous rebel trio continue to elude authorities, now on the run from justice for over a year. Rumors that the fugitives will mount an attack using the divining rod and the Agonex continue, yet our military experts believe they would be soundly defeated. Although it is unknown what it is that they plan on doing with the stolen sacred artifacts, one thing remains certain—they are a threat that must be eliminated. The Lord of the Legion has been quoted as saying, “In the scheme of things, it is nothing more than a minor setback. We shall find the crone and the final scion one way or another.” It is believed Our Lordship might be referring to new intelligence gained from a recent capture said to be associated with the Resistance, whom authorities have just revealed to be none other than the fugitive warlock Jens Madis Bjornsson, who was bribed into bowing out of the Antioc Classic, thus allowing the treacherous Augum Stone to take his place—’ ”
Malaika and Charissa, who had also been reading a copy, suddenly looked up with wide eyes, obviously having read the same bit of news.
“Does he know where you live, Malaika?” Augum asked, a wild thrill of fear zipping down his spine. Many at the table looked up with confused expressions.
“Does he know where you live—?” Leera pressed a little louder, capturing the attention of the remainder of the table.
Malaika swallowed before surrendering a tentative nod.
The trio traded grave looks. Then it was only a matter of time until the Legion called upon Malaika for questioning. In fact, knowing Legion questioner squads, they were probably on their way to Milham that very moment.
Mrs. Haroun leaned forward with a frantic look on her painted face. “What should we do, Archmage!”
Mrs. Stone raised her head from her own copy of the Herald. “Evacuate.”
Not a soul moved. Everyone stared at Mrs. Stone, who was frowning in thought. Aside from her wispy scalp and deeper facial lines, she appeared poised and alert once more.
“But with all due respect to—” She froze, eyes following something nearby. When Augum turned to that spot—as did everyone else—he saw nothing there. He gave the girls a dark look. Was it a reaction to the elixir, or a side effect of Cron? She was training in the spell on her own. Or was it something else? He had noticed she was not quite herself since returning to the village. Jengo said it was normal with old age, but Augum wasn’t so sure.
“With all due respect to the planning committee,” Mrs. Stone abruptly continued as if nothing had happened, “I suggest an alternate plan for said evacuation.”
Mr. Haroun glanced to Constable Clouds. “I am sure we do not understand, Great Archmage.”
“The current plans call for a quick mass teleportation in strategic groups to a secret location in the south, with the hopes that the requisite enchantments would hold long enough to keep the Legion at bay. However, I have carefully formulated an alternate plan which I urge all assembled to put your faith in, a plan that dovetails with the current evacuation protocols.” Mrs. Stone’s iron gaze fell upon the trio, who lowered their eyes. “But in order for it to succeed, I must steal our young trio away for an important task.”
Augum jerked his head up in surprise.
“In the mean,” Mrs. Stone continued, head once more trembling as she slowly turned to each soul at the table, “while we have the time, we must immediately begin preparations for mass teleportation. All persons and essential supplies must be readied in the center of town for a hasty afternoon departure.”
After a protracted and tense silence during which many anxious looks were exchanged, Mr. Haroun stood. “Friends, the esteemed leader of the Resistance, Archmage Anna Atticus Stone, has urged evacuation. I … agree.” He paused, but no one dissented, not even his wife. He took a deep breath. “We have prepared for this day for a long time. Let us make quick work of it. Constable Clouds …”
Clouds used his son’s shoulder to stand before delivering key instructions to those assembled. Meanwhile, Mrs. Stone excused herself, bidding the trio to follow her outside, where she turned to face them. Augum braced for the inevitable dressing-down after last night’s mess up.
“Bridget, inform our contacts in Antioc that we will be evacuating Milham today,” she said in clipped tones.
Bridget, pale and sickly looking, gave a firm nod. “Yes, Mrs. Stone.”
“Leera, gather supplies for a short journey. No spell books required. Only food and water.”
“Should I bring the Orb of Orion, Mrs. Stone?”
“Not necessary for this particular trip.” She turned to Augum. “Ask someone to pack up all our essential things and have them ready in the center of town as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Nana.”
She glanced appraisingly over the three of them before making an impatient gesture. “Off with the lot of you then.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the trio chorused.
Bridget stepped aside to begin communicating through the Exot orb, Leera raced off to fetch supplies, and Augum went back inside the Harouns’ in search of someone they could trust to pack up their stuff, glad not to get in trouble … at least right now.
“I’ll do it,” Jengo immediately said when Augum asked him if he’d be comfortable with the task.
“Oh, uh, thanks.”
Jengo looked like he wanted to say something particular, but nearby, Mrs. Haroun was screaming at Clayborne to hurry up with an oversized trunk.
“Look at this chaos,” Jengo muttered instead, watching as Malaika dictated to Annelise which books to cram into a travel case. “They’re going to crate up the entire house.” He sighed. “Mrs. Stone, Constable Clouds … and Ms. Singh too.”
“I’m sorry?” Augum said, frowning in an effort to concentrate through the sleep deprivation.
“They’re all unwell. Priya’s nursing her mother as we speak. I should probably attend to her first. Then I’ll take care of your stuff.”
“Of course,” Augum said as Jengo moved to depart, only to turn around.
“Think we’ll make it out of here before the Legion comes?”
Augum hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Jengo said, departing.
Augum, drowning in shame, was too tired to give a cogent response.
A Familiar Place
The trio met up with Mrs. Stone by the well. The townsfolk were already running to and fro, hollering for their kids to fetch this and that. Some pleaded for more time. Others stood nearby, rocking from foot to foot, looking anxiously about, apparently lost as to what to do and where to start. Sergeant Cobb had to gently shoo them all away. Despite the chaos, the trio received plenty of awkward gazes and witnessed more than a few exchanged whispers.
“Bridget, inform Secretary Klines that the evacuation is underway and we will need her shortly,” Mrs. Stone cut in after again watching the trio for a time. “She is to report to Constable Clouds upon her arrival.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, wincing from what appeared to be a terrible headache. She stepped aside to communicate her wishes through the Exot orb.
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Stone hissed at Augum and Leera.
“We … we didn’t say anything, Nana,” Augum replied, exchanging a fleeting glance with his girlfriend.
Mrs. Stone glared as Bridget returned. “Ready yourselves for Teleport.”
The trio held hands, with Augum between his great-grandmother and Leera. She examined each of them with a look of simmering displeasure, making Augum’s insides shrivel, before uttering, “Impetus peragro gra
pa lestato exa exaei,” smacking the ground with the butt of her staff. There was an implosive crunch as Augum felt his body jerk violently.
The group landed on their feet on the other side. Augum, now quite experienced teleporting to Trainers with Mrs. Stone, had little trouble with dizziness and nausea. Usually, the girls did not have trouble either—except both already felt ill from the night before, and thus hurled themselves into a nearby bush, vomiting their meager breakfast.
Mrs. Stone looked on with a granite expression.
Augum stood there cringing, not knowing what to do. As he was about to offer Leera a hand, her arm shot up.
“I’m fine!” She jumped to her feet, making a show of being extra bouncy. “Yup, fine, totally fine, just a bit of the ol’ teleportation nausea.” She forced a smile and skipped to stand beside Augum, pressing a cloth to her lips.
Bridget was slower to get up, looking green and weak. She groaned as she fell in line beside them, rubbing her face.
Any moment now Mrs. Stone was going to light into them, Augum was sure of it, yet she only began pacing along a path that rang with familiarity. They had last been here three-quarters of a year ago, at night and in the thick of winter, with snow blanketing everything. Now, the evergreens towered gloriously in the sun. Underneath were blackberry bushes, weeds and wild flowers. Honey bees buzzed from petal to petal.
“I don’t believe it, Nana, are we really going to Castle Arinthian?” Augum asked, trying to force a cheery tone.
Mrs. Stone did not reply, merely strode on, back hunched.
Augum swallowed.
“There’s the wall,” Leera whispered. She had an arm around Bridget, who fumbled for her waterskin, drinking greedily.
Augum swatted at a fly by his face as he stepped over the ancient remains of the outer curtain wall that surrounded Castle Arinthian. Beyond would be the bailey, long overtaken by the forest. How he missed this place. What kind of state would it be in after the Legion had been here? And why come to the castle at all? Nana wasn’t thinking of bringing all of Milham here … was she? Surely his father had set numerous arcane alarms that would instantly alert him of their presence.
