by Sever Bronny
Mrs. Stone kept an open hand in front of her, no doubt sensing for enchantments using the 11th degree spell Reveal. A month ago, to their utter surprise, she had insisted the trio begin learning the spell, further pairing it with the 10th degree incantation Disenchant. While Reveal allowed them to find and study an enchantment, Disenchant granted them the ability to actually take it apart. Thus far only Bridget had been successful with either, and that was only one time.
“How can we learn these spells, Mrs. Stone?” Leera had asked upon initially hearing her instructions. “They’re way beyond our degree.”
“There are many historical secrets hidden in the arcane discipline,” Mrs. Stone had replied. “For example, did you know that both spells are relatively easy to learn, and have strategically been placed in such high degrees to keep thieves from learning the incantations?”
That small lesson had blown the trio’s minds.
Now, thinking back upon that moment, it suddenly occurred to Augum what the purpose of them returning to Castle Arinthian was. Just as he started to warn the girls, Mrs. Stone stopped in a nondescript location on the overgrown trail, hand wavering before a log. Ahead through the foliage, Augum could barely make out the moss-covered black walls of the castle.
Mrs. Stone turned around, chin held high. She waited expectantly, saying nothing. It was this lack of communication that worried Augum. She had to be furious with them, why the aggressive silence?
Augum stepped forward, hoping to give the girls more time to recover.
Her eyes suddenly flicked to the forest, where they remained.
“Do you see something, Mrs. Stone?” Leera asked tentatively, searching the depth of the woods before flashing Augum a worried look and mouthing, “Potion?”
Mrs. Stone merely grunted before returning her gaze to Augum. “Recall your training. Concentrate.”
“Yes, Nana.” He splayed both hands before him, mustering all his concentration to reveal the complex enchantment present on the log. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.” Much like Unconceal, Reveal required him to sense the subtle arcane ether and discern the type and strength of enchantment present. But because of Augum’s inexperience, it felt like searching for a soap bubble in a rose bush—the slightest prick of absent-mindedness foiled the spell. As easy as she had declared it was, Reveal seemed magnitudes more difficult than Unconceal, demanding an understanding of the nuances of arcanery Augum simply did not yet possess.
Mrs. Stone watched him carefully as his hands wavered over the log. The spell had instantly failed yet he continued to hold his hands up, stupidly hoping something would happen. At least she saw he was putting in the effort. Just as he dropped his arms in surrender, however, she snatched one of his hands just before it could accidentally brush the log, letting it go a moment later with a derisive jerk. Augum shivered, knowing what would have happened had even the tip of a finger so much as brushed the moss on the rotten wood.
“An incompetent failure, Augum.”
It was a bad sign she was calling him by his name rather than Great-grandson.
“Sorry, Nana.”
“Sorry.” Her jaw clenched. “Sorry would not reverse what might have occurred as a result of incompetence.”
Augum wanted to say that her casting Cron could have achieved that but had the presence of mind to hold his tongue, as sleep-deprived as he was.
She adjusted her grip on the staff before turning her attention to Leera, who swallowed and stepped forward, face pale.
“Good luck,” Augum mouthed.
Leera’s face tightened as she shook out her shoulders and arms. She took a deep breath and splayed out her hands. After a moment of quiet concentration, Leera invoked the words of the Reveal spell. Her brows were knitted tightly as she slowly guided her hands over the log, only to hesitantly drop them after a short while, careful not to touch the log.
Mrs. Stone made a grunting noise as Leera stepped away in defeat, avoiding eye contact with the legendary archmage.
Mrs. Stone turned her attention to Bridget, who looked as pale as snow, brow sweaty, hair limp. Bridget took a long swig from the waterskin before stepping up to the log, repeatedly smoothing her robe. At last, she raised shaky hands.
“Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” but it was only a moment before she dropped her hands, shaking her head, face contorted in anguish. She stepped back to meekly stand with Augum and Leera.
For a few moments, Mrs. Stone allowed the silence to express her disappointment.
“Thirty five years as Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts. Thirty. Five. Years.”
Augum dared not move a muscle, feeling lower than a buried corpse.
“In all of that time, I have never—and I mean never—witnessed three shirk grave responsibilities in so callous a manner. The stench of drink exuding from the lot of you … one could smell it a league away.”
With each passing moment of her glaring at them, Augum felt himself shrinking more and more. The silence eventually became so unbearable he felt compelled to say something.
“It was only this one night, it’ll never—”
“Do not presume to excuse your actions!” Mrs. Stone growled. “Are you aware that the council received complaints from villagers purporting to have seen the lot of you stumble out of the inn, drunk as skunks? Are you aware of how that looked to those who risk their lives in the hopes of giving the three of you one precious chance to defeat the tyrant? Or to the bereaved families of poor Mr. and Mrs. Miller? Hmm?”
The trio stood rigid, heads low.
“At fifteen years of age. Think on that.” She glared another silence into them during which Augum envisioned people like Mr. Goss or Mr. Okeke shaking their heads in disappointment, not to mention all those others who relied on them. Thinking of their let-down faces made him want to shrivel up and die.
When Mrs. Stone continued, it was in an icy voice. “We are not at the academy where your idiotic traipsing and deficient judgment could be settled with a reprimand or simple detention. No, you will bear the shame of it. And the Unnameables only know how you shall make amends.” Mrs. Stone shook her head slowly. “Unnameables only know …” She inhaled sharply. “I would very much like to discuss the matter further—believe you me I would—but be that as it may, there are more pressing concerns, are there not?”
Augum sensed it was a rhetorical question and dared not utter a word.
“Now if the lot of you would deign to spare me whatever concentration your enfeebled minds have remaining, we may perhaps survive the day.” Mrs. Stone took a weary, rattling breath. “Lividius and his warlocks have cast numerous traps and enchantments on the castle and its grounds, hoping to catch us returning. Your task here today was to find and dispel them. As we can plainly see, you are incapable of performing this most necessary duty. I cannot express how disappointed I am, for here we have a unique opportunity for you to practice directly upon your enemy’s enchantments, an opportunity you have senselessly squandered. So how are we to continue, since I am unable to summon other warlocks to perform the duty on your behalf?”
The trio anxiously stirred. At last, Bridget cleared her throat gently. “I know words are just words, they’re not actions …” She wrung her hands. “But I am so very sorry, Mrs. Stone. I was not being responsible. I was careless, tactless, impudent, and wrong. I let you and everyone else down. I am deeply embarrassed for my actions.” Bridget sniffed. “Deeply.”
Leera raised her chin, swallowing. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Stone. We let you and Milham down. It will not happen again.”
Augum nodded. “I too am sorry, Nana. We let you down. We let Milham down. We did not act in a manner that reflected the Resistance and what it stands for.” Gods, and they had attended the morning meeting shamefully hoping to get away with it. All those fleeting looks, the averted faces, the whispers … they all knew.
Bridget stared at her feet. “Perhaps … perhaps if you gave us a second chance …”
Mrs. Stone
sighed as she rested more heavily on her staff. “I believe one of you has learned the counterspell extension to a certain spell.”
Bridget perked up. “Are you saying the enchantment before us is merely … Object Alarm?” Bridget was the only one of them that could cast the counterspell to Object Alarm, dispelling it the “old fashioned way”. Neither Augum nor Leera had been able to learn that particular extension, finding the reverse pronunciation impossible. They were only lucky it wasn’t a mandatory standard spell as that would have meant they had officially hit their arcane ceiling.
Mrs. Stone gave the slightest nod. “This one is Object Alarm. I expect the majority of the enchantments to indeed be nothing more than simple castings of that spell.” She raised a stern finger. “But not all. Lividius can be quite calculating.”
Bridget flexed her jaw as her gaze fell upon the log. There were prickles of sweat on her forehead, but her face was a mask of determination. She kneeled before the log, allowing both hands to quiver just above the moss, then closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths. At last, inflection and all, she perfectly uttered the backward incantation that repeatedly stumped Augum and Leera. “Omrala led oitucnoc,” withdrawing her hands at the precise moment.
Mrs. Stone wasted no time drawing a hand near. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.” Although she did not need to utter the phrase aloud, she often did during training so the trio could hear successful casting pronunciations.
Mrs. Stone allowed her hand to drop, giving Bridget nothing more than a grunt, indicating a successful counterspell had been cast.
Bridget helped Mrs. Stone step over the log, herself receiving gentle pats on the back from Augum and Leera.
“Way to go, Bridge,” Leera whispered.
“Knew you could do it,” Augum added. They had a lot to atone for.
Bridget took a swig of water and forced a troubled smile as she winced from her headache. Augum wondered how she felt about that bastard, Bowlander. That’s how he thought of him now—a manipulative bastard. Augum wanted to express to Bridget somehow that his behavior had not been acceptable. They all needed to talk about the previous night, including Bowlander’s potion making, which might be affecting Mrs. Stone. Even now as they strode toward the castle, her gaze would often flick to the shadows.
But now was definitely not the time. They had to focus on the task at hand.
Mrs. Stone led on at a slower pace, one hand held before her, sensing the arcane ether. The late morning air was hot, humid and still. Flies buzzed and circled. The Ravenwood sang with the chirp of birds, the chatter of the occasional squirrel, and the distant hollow peck of a woodpecker.
The fifteen-hundred-year-old black stone walls of the castle soon loomed before them. How strange to see them again, especially in late summer, so overgrown with moss and ivy.
Mrs. Stone shuffled on, telekinetically bending back thorny berry bushes that were suffocating the trail. She would stop now and then, listening to the forest, eyes alert and wary. The trio traded looks. What was she hearing or seeing?
They soon made their way around one of the four large battlements that protected the corners of the great castle. Augum recalled finding Fentwick in one of them. He remembered the ancient talking suit of armor falling to a Red Guard soldier in the thick of battle, and wondered if he was still alive—if “alive” could even be used to describe him.
When they finally saw the massive set of entranceway doors, Leera grabbed Augum’s hand and squeezed. He squeezed back, heart leaping at seeing the location of their first great test. They had been tasked with repairing the doors, only to fail miserably when they weren’t strong enough. Mrs. Stone had stepped in and finished the job, leaving them in a puddle of disappointment. Nonetheless, Augum couldn’t help but smile. He had a lot of fond memories in this beautiful and ancient castle, with its tall black facade of windows, balconies and minarets.
Just as he was glancing at the giant library window high up on the fourth floor, he spotted movement behind the glass. It was hard to see with the glare of the sun, but he swore he saw a ghostly face there.
“Did … did anyone else see that?” he whispered, the flesh rising on his arms. They followed his gaze to the window, but whatever creature had been there had disappeared. “It’s not the Legion, is it?”
“I do not believe so,” Mrs. Stone wheezed after a studied moment. “But let us keep our wits about ourselves.”
Bridget suddenly fumbled for the Exot orb, whispering, “Not now, cease contact.”
“Bowlander?” Leera mouthed.
Bridget gave the slightest nod as she shoved the orb back into her pocket. Augum wondered what Bowlander wanted. His blood heated even thinking about him.
Mrs. Stone continued on at an even slower pace, eyes focused on the ground, only to stop at a patch of arid grass littered with stones. There she turned, a finger over her lips indicating for them to be quiet.
“My word, what luck,” she whispered, brightening somewhat. “I was hoping to run into this spell. One of these stones is enchanted with Soundtrap, an off-the-book extension of Object Alarm. The enchantment sends the caster a warning when any nearby human makes a noise above a whisper.”
“Can we disarm it, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget whispered.
“If you manage to locate it, perhaps.” Her tone shifted. “But I shan’t hold my breath.” She quietly moved aside.
Augum wished Unconceal would work, but knew from experience that it only found things purposefully hidden without the use of arcanery.
Each of the trio took a turn at Reveal, whispering, “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” but one by one, they failed. None of them could figure out which of the rocks had been enchanted.
Suddenly Mrs. Stone, who had been standing opposite them, instantly and silently appeared at Bridget’s side, snatching her hand just as she was about to sit down on a rock. Augum and Leera froze as Mrs. Stone motioned them to remain silent before firmly guiding Bridget away from the rock.
It took Augum a moment to realize what they had just witnessed.
“Cron,” Leera whispered, coming to the same conclusion. She gave him an important look. It was strange that after all this training, they had not once actually seen the spell cast. And the effect of it seemed so … simple. Nothing had changed other than Mrs. Stone’s location. But Augum knew what they saw was only the barest tip of a mountain of arcane complexity.
“That was one of Lividius’,” Mrs. Stone murmured once they got a few strides away from the rock. She flinched at something over Augum’s shoulder, but again, when he turned, he saw nothing there. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had shown up only to have Mrs. Stone cast the spell and reverse the flow of time.
Mrs. Stone finally let go of Bridget and continued whispering. “Soundtrap is a particularly useful spell I was hoping to teach you sometime because it does not require someone to actually touch the object for the alarm in your head to go off.” She frowned at them. “However, seeing as your abilities on this day are severely diminished, we shall refrain from that lesson. That said, now that you know which rock it is, try another Disenchant.”
The trio shared a despondent look, knowing they missed a perfect opportunity to learn a fantastic new spell. Instead, they were to disarm the trap. Bridget and Leera both subtly shook their heads, indicating to Augum they were not up to it. He did not blame them, all things considering. But Mrs. Stone was waiting and someone needed to try.
Augum raised a finger indicating he would give it a go. Sure, he had yet to successfully cast the spell and there was a chance of discovery, but he owed it to a village of people to push himself.
He tiptoed over and quietly placed his hands above the rock. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” opening his soul to the reverberations of the ether. Amazingly—probably because he was already expecting an enchantment around the rock—ghostly arcane tendrils suddenly appeared. For the first time ever, he was able to see the backbone of arcanery, and it was breathtakin
gly beautiful. The Soundtrap spell was a complex and fragile tapestry with layers of depth. Blood rushing from the excitement of a successful casting, he studied the structure in minute detail, until Reveal soon faded, once more making the trap invisible.
He took a deep breath. Now to cast Disenchant. Could he make it two successful first castings? The phrase had to be uttered precisely. “Exotus mia enchantus duo dai ideum exat.” To his astonishment, the words revealed the trap in new vibrancy, making Augum gasp. But there was no time to lose and, one by one, he began removing the tendrils, careful not to disturb the pile as a whole, for that would set off the trap.
Despite being viciously sleep deprived, his concentration held, though he could feel his arcane energies depleting rapidly with the removal of each sliver, for this particular casting was moderately complex. It certainly had been cast by a very skilled hand (it was the Lord of the Legion, after all).
Augum ignored the sweat, the tension in his muscles, his bated breath, and the fact that one wrong move would bring his father charging. He desperately wanted to succeed, to redeem the three of them for last night, to once more make Mrs. Stone proud.
He forced himself to dismiss the blood drop that had fallen from his nose. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so sleep deprived, he would not be reaching his arcane stamina limits so quickly. Yet he pressed on, carefully removing sliver after arcane sliver. Until there was only one … last … tendril …
Suddenly there was a quiet sucking sound as the trap disappeared. Augum withdrew his hands, feeling his face slacken in disbelief. Did he really just successfully cast both spells for the first time? And while so sleep deprived?
