by Sever Bronny
Isaac conferred in whispers with the boys. There were a few quiet but heated exchanges. Augum began to worry.
“Vague and weakly explained, Candidate Stone,” Isaac finally declared. “But seeing as you have not as yet attended the academy and thus been given the full opportunity to learn these principles by heart, we have decided to let it slide … this time.”
Augum breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Candidate Garroom! What is the third and final principle of arcanery?”
“Sir! The third principle of arcanery! Expanding on the natural tendencies of your element in a controlled manner is the path to mastery.”
“Excellent, Candidate Garroom.” Isaac took a step back. “And now, for the final and most important test.”
The boys made a dramatic Dun dun duuuun sound that echoed ominously in the grand hall.
“This is the sacred Test … of Honesty.” Isaac let that thought settle before continuing on. “Candidate Garroom. We have debated on the question to present to you and have come up with the following. What is your greatest fear?”
Garryk thought about this a moment. “Sir, my greatest fear is that I will have no friends, sir!”
“You can count us as friends,” bad boy Brandon immediately said. “Even with that wart.” There was warmth in his voice, and despite his apparent reputation, Augum immediately found himself won over by the boy. He hoped they were going to be friends. After being around girls so much, he craved having a friend like Brandon.
“So be it, may the answer rest forever heavy on your soul,” Isaac replied in a solemn voice. “Candidate Okeke!”
Jengo snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”
“We know little of you thus far, but we hope that will change in time. After much deliberation and conference with your castle fellows, we have thus come up with an appropriate and sacred question to present to you. Candidate Okeke, if you were to attend the ancient Academy of Arcane Arts, what would become of your betrothed, her mother, and your father?”
Jengo flinched as if the question took him by surprise while Augum was impressed by the research undertaken by the boys.
“Sir, I … I …”
“Remember that this is a sacred Test of Honesty, Candidate Okeke.”
“Sir, I would ask that my beloved betrothed live with me in the city, and that … and that if it came to it, her mother as well,” he said grudgingly. “Sir, I would also ask that my father would be well taken care of wherever he decides to live.”
After a marked silence, “So be it, may the answer rest forever heavy on your soul.”
Augum could hear Isaac stepping before him. “Candidate Stone.”
“Yes, sir!”
There was a deep sigh. “The other ordained warlocks and I have thought long and hard on the sacred question we are to ask you. There were many questions raised, but none as powerful as the one we have decided upon, one we have taken great pains to uncover.”
There were quiet murmurs of agreement on this point.
“Candidate Stone, you come from a very long line, the ancient and famous Arinthian line. Your father has murdered many people, including the families of some here.”
Augum stood gravely still, thinking of Bridget and Leera’s families, of proud Sir Westwood.
“Your great-grandmother was the Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts for thirty-five years. She is the only living master warlock, and arguably one of the most famous and renowned warlocks to have ever lived. You are also set to inherit this castle and become its castellan.”
There was a marked silence. Augum could almost hear grave looks being exchanged.
“That said, it is our understanding that you are slated to inherit something else as well, something that has also been passed down in the Arinthian line for many generations.”
Augum tensed. The scion.
“After much deliberation, soul-searching, and correspondence with the appropriate authorities, we thus pose the following sacred question to you. Candidate Stone, would you take the scion to save the kingdom at the sacrifice of your great-grandmother’s life?”
Augum felt like a spear had pierced his gut. He grit his teeth, knowing the answer he must give, had to give. But he didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to verbalize the awful truth of it and acknowledge what it meant. At long last, however, an answer had to be given.
“Sir, I would.”
A ringing silence befell the hall.
“So be it, may the answer rest forever heavy on your soul.”
Bridget’s First
“You may remove your blindfolds,” Isaac said, voice ringing in the hall.
Augum removed his blindfold, hearing Jengo and Garryk do the same beside him. All three gasped, for at last Augum was able to look upon the ancient throne room and Hall of Ceremony of Castle Arinthian.
It was … majestic. Spread evenly across the room were thick marble pillars carved with scenes of war, country farms, and general castle life. Lions propped up the high intricately carved paneled ceiling in all four corners. The marble walls displayed grand royal tapestries, including one depicting warlocks battling a horde of undead. Even the torch sconces were black iron lions, the fire that emanated from each looked like the lion’s mane.
Augum turned to see a magnificent stone throne on a stepped dais. It was carved like a great sitting lion, its paws the arms of the chair, with enough room to fit two people. But what hung behind the throne was what grabbed Augum’s attention—a giant and glorious subtly moving painting, untouched by time other than the occasional crack. It depicted a man with sharp features; steel blue eyes that blinked now and then, forever gazing into the future; and a great dark mane of hair that gently moved in an invisible wind. And his armor … it was the most magnificent Augum had ever seen; highly ornate yet sleek, polished and shimmering. Depicted on the chest of this magnificent armor was a great lion. Under the man’s arm was a pointed helm with a peacock plume that rustled in an invisible wind. In a hand he clutched a crystal globe that had clouded over, periodically flashing with silent lightning. And on his hip hung a familiar, tapered short sword … the Dreadnought blade named Burden’s Edge.
“Atrius Arinthian,” Augum whispered, swallowing. His ancestor was here, right before him, almost alive. It was the most incredible thing to see. He recalled that he shared the man’s birthday—the second day of the second month. It reinforced the tie he felt to him and the castle. He felt an ancient stirring within his soul, perhaps an ethereal echo wishing Augum success and hope. It was as if the man was saying, “Save the kingdom, Augum, I know you can do it, I have faith in you.”
Augum swallowed. But there was a marked difference between Atrius Arinthian’s epic battle against Occulus and Augum’s coming battle with his father. Atrius had been known as an arcane artist, a near master in the arts, whereas Augum was a mere fledgling in comparison. What chance did he stand against the Lord of the Legion, a man possessing six scions and an undead army?
Augum felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a smiling Isaac holding a folded emerald green robe.
“Prince Augum, you have earned this new robe,” Isaac said. “You will wear it through the 5th and 6th degrees, no longer as Apprentice Stone, but as Initiate Stone. You will wear it with pride, for it represents the ancient and sacred traditions of the Academy of Arcane Arts. May you uphold those traditions honorably and with courage. And although you are unable to join us at the academy at this time, it is our sincerest hope that you may do so soon.” He extended the robe to Augum, as Brandon extended a royal blue robe to Garryk, and Olaf a burgundy one to Jengo, who had a tear running down his cheek.
“You are now official brothers in the secret Sacred Brotherhood of the Academy of Arcane Arts.”
Each of the boys shook hands and gave the receiver of the robe a brotherly hug. Then the candidates unfolded their robes and displayed them, to the overwhelming applause of the boys. Augum, heart thumping with pride, saw the beaut
ifully embroidered crest of the Academy of Arcane Arts on the chest. He couldn’t wait to put the robe on.
“Thanks for allowing me to be part of this,” Chaska said aside. “I’m just an Ordinary with no interest in arcanery whatsoever, but it allowed me to see a part of the culture of the warlock, and that means a lot.” He extended his hand.
Augum took it. “I’m happy you were along.” He wondered if Chaska would now ease up a little on Haylee and her arcane pursuits.
“All right, go put those robes on and we’ll meet you in the foyer shortly, brothers,” Isaac said. He brought his hands together excitedly. “Then we have an Advancement Ceremony to attend, where there will be food, music, and girls!”
This, of course, sent up a glorious cheer. Augum had forgotten all about the girls, and couldn’t wait to ask them how their academy sisterhood initiation went.
Augum and Jengo giddily raced upstairs while Garryk went to find a room below. As Jengo disappeared into his room, Augum, curiously, heard Lord Bowlander’s voice in Bridget and Leera’s room, the door of which was slightly ajar. Unable to help himself, he slunk near, suspicious of what Broderick was up to.
“… swear she means nothing to me, Bridget,” Bowlander was saying, holding Bridget by the shoulders.
“Why should I believe you?” she asked. She was clutching a brand new emerald robe to her chest. Obviously the girls had finished just before the boys and she had come up to change, only to be ambushed by Bowlander. But who were they talking about?
“You should believe me because of this—” and Bowlander drew Bridget near and kissed her. Just as Augum was about to brazenly and probably foolishly dash in there, he saw her arm entwine around his neck and draw him near. Despite disliking Bowlander and not trusting him, Augum couldn’t help but be happy for her. Here was Bridget’s first kiss!
Then it occurred to him he was being incredibly rude by snooping on her, and quickly retreated. It was none of his business, even though he was really only worrying for someone he considered his sister. He needed to stop being so nosy and trust her. She’s a big girl and could take care of herself, as Leera had said to him repeatedly.
Besides, he was excited to put on his new robe.
Augum jumped into his room, barely noticing the painting of Mrs. Stone propped against the wall, closed the door behind him, and pumped both fists, shouting, “YEEEESSSSS!” Then he made himself calm down and change. The new robe fit perfectly and was even more comfortable than his old one. It was a majestic emerald green, the highly intricate embroidery perfectly positioned over his heart. He studied it with pride, recalling all too well what each of the four crest divisions meant. And now he would continue upholding those traditions, albeit from afar. But he had never felt closer to that ancient academy than he did in that moment. Even though he hadn’t even laid eyes on it, he felt like he was a student in absentia.
Eventually, after realizing he had gotten himself caught up in daydreaming about strolling through the academy halls, he shook out his nervousness and exited the room, aiming to go to the foyer. But there he bumped into a startled Bridget, already wearing her new emerald robe.
“Suits you,” she said with a nervous smile, eyes darting to the steps and then her door. Augum suspected she wondered if he had seen Bowlander slip away. Her long cinnamon hair had been done up into a complicated braid and her delicately rose-brushed cheeks sparkled with fairy-dust glitter. She was positively radiant.
“And that robe suits you. First time we ever met you wore a green robe.” He extended his elbow to her in a brotherly fashion. “Princess Bridget.”
“Prince Augum,” she said with a proper curtsy, and took his arm. “I remember that robe all too well. It was a hand-me-down from a neighbor. Not nearly as comfortable.”
“Where’s Leera?” He couldn’t wait to take her in his arms and celebrate.
“Waiting for you downstairs,” Bridget replied quickly. “She changed in the nearest room she could find.”
You’re a terrible liar, Augum thought amusedly. No doubt Leera did the sisterly thing and allowed her time on her own with Bowlander.
Bridget patted his arm. “She looks divine, wait till you see her.”
He beamed as they made their way downstairs, nodding embarrassed thanks to those who congratulated them on their new degree. The villagers seemed to now know all about the ceremony, what it entailed, and how important an event it was in “warlock culture”, as Augum had recalled Chaska calling it. And everyone was dressed in their best! What a glorious day indeed.
“Congratulations, Prince Augum,” said a cool voice nearby.
Augum turned to nod his thanks when he saw who it was—Malaika Haroun, standing beside Charissa Graves. Both girls wore smiles that were just devious enough to tell Augum something was up.
“Miss Haroun, Miss Graves,” he said properly with a nod, continuing on with Bridget, whose hand suddenly gripped his arm tightly. It was then he instantly knew who it was Bowlander had been talking about. It took willpower not to ask Bridget about it.
Chaska, Haylee and the student warlocks were already waiting for Augum and Bridget in the foyer. Jengo had long joined them, as had Garryk, for they were all embroiled in animated discussion.
Leera strode up to Augum and Bridget immediately. “There you two are! What took you so long?” She winked at Bridget, confirming Augum’s suspicions the pair had conspired.
“Uh …” Bridget toned, apparently struggling.
“I jumped up and down in my room screaming YES at the top of my lungs while pumping my fists,” Augum quickly said, trying to save her from making up some story, although that would have been amusing to hear.
“That’s funny, I did too,” Leera said.
Augum extended a hand palm-up. “Come here, Princess Leera, you look radiant.” She took it and allowed him to draw her to him. Her long raven hair was shiny and done up in beautiful curls. She too had pixie dust on her cheeks, making her large dark eyes stand out even more against her adorable freckles. It reminded him of the Feast Under the Stars. She looked enchanting. He kissed her on the lips and the two embraced. Unfortunately, other students took immediate notice.
“Get a room, you two!”
“What is this, some kind of make-out den?”
“This ain’t Lover’s Day!”
The two let go, red-faced, but continued to hold hands. They had long stopped hiding their affections for each other, mostly because they thought they could die any day now and had to cherish what time they had together, even if that included time in public. Screw everybody else anyway, as one or the other of them would say now and then if doubt ever crept in.
“Now you’re crossing into fairytale territory,” Laudine said, striding up to them. She raised both hands animatedly. “ ‘For doth they kissed and doves sprang from their fine lips.’ ” Her eyes went wide. “Oooh, that gives me a dreamy idea. I should come up with a poem about you two.”
“Unnameables help us all,” Alyssa said jokingly, joining them while tugging at a dread. “You want to melt their brains?” Then, after seeing the look on Laudine’s face, she gave her a playful shove. “I’m just kidding, some of those kooky poems are pretty good, actually.”
“Some are,” Augum blurted. “I hate poetry, but this one … ‘Quarrel, quarrel for the light. Know naught but darkness should you lose the fight.’ ”
Laudine’s mouth remained open as she slowly turned to Leera, jokingly whispering, “Does he have a brother?”
Leera snorted.
“Don’t push it, Cooper.” Alyssa gave Bridget a friendly elbow. “He keeps looking at you. What’s going on?”
Bridget found Lord Bowlander in the crowd and blushed. He was indeed looking at her. Staring, more like.
“Nothing, why?” Bridget said a little too quickly.
Alyssa smiled. “ ‘Nothing’? If you say so.”
Someone clapped their hands a few times. “All right, everyone!” Mrs. Hawthorne’s voice echoed in th
e decorated foyer. She was wearing a stately sparkling white robe fringed with golden threading, complete with a colorful embroidered academy crest. “We’re just about ready to start the ceremony. Is everyone here?” She made eye contact with all in turn, pointing at them as she went, mouth silently counting along. “Looks to be everyone. Good. And Mr. Fungal?”
“On way, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Sasha said in her choppy accent. Her chin-length dirty blonde hair was clipped firmly against her scalp, highlighting the sharpness of her cheeks.
“He didn’t forget his bagpipes again, did he?” Mrs. Hawthorne pressed.
“No, I saw him have,” Sasha replied. “This exciting, yes?”
Augum had the impression the students didn’t get to do this kind of thing much anymore since the Legion took control of the academy. And on that note, he had a whole slew of questions to ask.
“Psst, Brandon—” he called.
Brandon turned, wearing a lopsided grin which Augum was beginning to think the boy woke up with. He had a perpetual trouble-making look to him, but in a mischievous fun way.
Brandon bowed obnoxiously low. “Prince Augum. I am at thy service,” he said in a mock snooty voice.
“Stop that,” Augum hissed, conscious of students snickering. “Can you tell us a bit about the academy? We don’t get much real news here, other than what the heralds preach.”
Brandon made a dismissive gesture that looked particularly practiced. “Heralds are full of nonsense. The academy’s a wreck.”
“What do you mean?” Bridget pressed.
Brandon gave her a sly smile before replying. “Princess Bridget.”
Bridget frowned at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Brandon ran a hand through his shaggy walnut hair, somewhat tamed today. “Because you blush when you look at me.”
“I do not.”
He shrugged as his impish smile returned. “If you say so. Anyway, to answer your question …” He blinked. “Uh, wait, what was the question again—?”
