by Sever Bronny
But now he could cast it. Now he could cast the one spell that might save him … for he needed to finish them all, and he needed to do it alone.
Head throbbing, ears and nose bleeding, Augum tumbled and blocked and tumbled and blocked again and again, until he thumped against a tree in the darkness, barely conscious of a glint falling to the ground. He flipped his wrist at the fire sword-blow that would have decapitated him, snapping, “Disablo!” the sword disappeared mid-air, but the force of the strike gesture was so violent it made the reaver whirl and trip.
He dodged the second reaver’s strike by rolling right, simultaneously yanking telekinetically at its foot, causing it to fall back. Then he raised his black lightning shield as the wraith used both arms to ram down on him as if wielding a giant pickaxe. The shield slammed against him, bashing his lip and squeezing his body into the earth. The moment the wraith raised its giant fists to strike again, he allowed the shield to disappear and violently shoved the air, “BAKA!” sending the nearest reaver flying into a tree trunk. Then he rolled aside again as the wraith and other reaver simultaneously struck the earth where he had been lying.
He was exhausted, bleeding, and nearing the end, but he summoned his courage and all his remaining arcane might. “Paralizo carcusa cemente!” instantly paralyzing a reaver in mid-strike.
The wraith raised its clawed fists to smash him again. This time though, he lunged through its legs, once again telekinetically yanking on the other oncoming reaver’s foot, which had come roaring back from the darkness, sending it crashing to the ground.
At long last, there on his back, as the wraith was turning and one reaver stood frozen and the other scrambled to get off the ground, the opportunity presented itself …
Augum took a split moment to sharpen his bleeding mind. “Centeratoraye xao xen—!”
The world slowed, the darkness clarifying. He felt the creative essence of Centarro warmly lubricate his thoughts, but he also felt a deep ache in his bones, an ache he knew was a result of aging four months in the span of sixty heartbeats. His soul throbbed along with his heart, a soul damaged by the raking claws of the nebulous ether. He saw ephemeral shadows stalk him, strolling from tree to tree, threatening to rush him any moment. And he recognized some of their faces—Corrigus, the elder warlock he had slain back at the Battle of Hangman’s Rock, and Sal, the bandit with the cleaver, the butcher’s blade shining ghostly in the darkness. Both wore looks of profound malice. Both wanted revenge.
But Augum had other concerns. While on his back, the first thing he did was slam his wrists together. “ANNIHILO!” and blew a hole through the reaver’s chest. It flopped to the ground, still as pond water. Then he spat, “Summano arma!” and parried a sweeping strike from the wraith, slicing off its claws with an electric sizzle. The wraith shrieked in what appeared to be annoyance. Meanwhile, the remaining paralyzed reaver suddenly sprang back to life and began to furiously attack him with its fists, not even bothering to summon its fiery blade. He focused and kept his concentration as sharp as possible on maintaining his lightning long sword, using it to parry the attacks. He managed to cut a little more off the creature’s limbs with each parry, until, just like the Nightsword, it was beating him with two rotten stinky stumps … and then his blade disappeared. The reaver was smart enough to switch to furiously kicking him, each a wallop to his legs or side. But Augum saw a unique opportunity and made a Centarric choice—he took the kicks to his body, focusing on the wraith, which had returned its attention to him, and slammed his wrists together, shouting, “ANNIHILO!” while aiming up at the wraith’s head. He knew it was his last casting of the First Offensive. He just didn’t have the arcane stamina, even with overdraw and Centarro. But the hit was true, and the wraith’s skull exploded. It tumbled forward. He timed his roll so the wraith crushed the reaver, barely missing him.
At last, sweet silence.
Augum lay in the deep darkness of the Ravenwood as Centarro faded, leaving him in exquisite torment. Although his mind was as dull as a spoon, he was frightfully cognizant of a variety of pains—stinging on his body, throbbing in his head, a deep ache in his bones, and a soul that felt fundamentally damaged.
He moaned as he rolled around in the fog of Centarro, fighting the pain that simply refused to cease. His existence was that pain. There was no Augum, only pain. And even as he clambered out from the side effects of that powerful spell, the pain came with him. When he opened his eyes, the stars were evil eyes, the moon a silver dagger, and shadows surrounded him.
The moment he became truly aware of them, they closed in on him.
“What you lookin’ at, gutterborn slime?” Fat Dap, his bully from Willowbrook, asked. “Huh? What you lookin’ at—?”
Augum’s face exploded with pain as Dap’s meaty fist met his jaw.
He ran and ran and ran, but they doggedly followed, catcalling, taunting, howling.
He slammed into a tree in the deep night and flopped to the earth, moaning.
“I shall enjoy this,” said a stern and cool voice. Augum turned to see an old disfigured shadow of a man loom over him. Corrigus slowly raised his hand. “Tarma carcusa tormenti.”
This pain was different, as if all of his muscles were eating themselves. He screamed, writhing … but there was no escape. The shadows were everywhere, and the more they closed in and attacked, the more trapped Augum felt. He saw the reavers rise. He saw the wraith lumber back to life. He heard an insect laugh. All came for him, furiously attacking. Panic suffused his being. The fear of what was happening, his true death, made his heart thunder.
The last thing he recalled seeing was Leera’s mournful face.
A Voice
Augum startled awake to the twitter of birds and the morning sun. He was soaked with dew. Above him stretched the remains of a dried-out dead pine. For a time he just lay there, trying to piece together how he ended up in the middle of the woods. His body ached and his soul felt exhausted and stretched.
Suddenly he realized he had slipped off the Exot ring during the fight, and thus wasn’t able to hear Bridget! He fumbled around in his pocket and put it on. “Contact Bridget Burns! Hello, Bridget, I’m alive—are you there?”
But after a heart-thumping moment, it was an altogether different voice that replied, a deep voice filled with mild surprise.
“Ah, I suppose you put the wrong ring on? A novice mistake, I dare say, my son.”
Augum froze, heart in his throat.
“You can talk to me, my boy, I can track you after, there is no rush.”
Gods, this must be the necromancer’s Exot ring! He had to immediately dispel the Dreadnought tracking enchantment on this one.
“You have obviously defeated one of my necromancers. Matters not, I have a few more in my ranks. I shall find out which one you have vanquished shortly. And then I shall come for you.”
“We’ll be long gone,” Augum lied, thinking quickly. “But don’t worry, we’re coming for you. We can track you with the divining rod.” His hand shook, the ring close to his lips. He had just made a grave error—he had given away their rough location by a careless mistake. That entire battle had been for naught. And he instinctively knew his soul simply wasn’t up to the complex task of casting Cron again after such a massive recent casting.
The voice on the other end chortled. “That is true, but we both know it’s only in vague direction. That means almost nothing. Despite your showmanship at the arena, I am certain you are a coward at heart, as was your mother.”
“Then you do not know me.”
Sparkstone laughed mirthlessly. “You will not dare to stand before me, will you, my son? And you and I both know why, do we not? Not only would you die, but I would slay all those close to you.” Augum could almost hear him shrug. “Not that I would not slay them anyway. Make it easy for everyone. Come to me, Son.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come.”
The voice was amused. It was strange hearing it, as if the Lord of the Legion were s
tanding near. “I am curious if you indeed will. In the mean, I have news for the crone. Tell her that, with Magua’s careful assistance, I have overcome the final limitation the Leyans have placed upon the scions. I will now be able to possess all seven. Think on that. The history of it.”
The Lord of the Legion gave a pitied sigh. “From my understanding, attaining all seven would bring about the destruction of Ley, but since the Leyans have refused to share with me the secrets of eternity, and since seemingly no gate can be made or repaired, it will not be a loss now, will it?”
“You’d destroy an entire realm just to complete a collection of artifacts?”
“Ah, but you do not understand, my boy. Possessing all seven scions will allow me that eternity. Further, I have … other plans with those scions after acquiring them, you mark my words I do.”
There was a pause as Augum’s skin rose.
“That is right, my boy, I shall become eternal, eternal and invincible. I shall become n Unnameable. Do you now see? Do you now see what it is I am forced to do, my son? I must capture the final scion, for that is my destiny.”
Augum grit his teeth. “I’m coming for you,” and yanked off the Exot ring in frustration. Then he immediately set to casting Reveal upon it. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus!” but whether he had mistimed the gesture or the proper mental focus, the spell failed. “Focus, you idiot!” he spat at himself, taking a precious moment to calm down. His father would already be tracking the ring, no doubt, probably teleporting around the kingdom until the direction sense told him exactly where Augum was.
“Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” he said in calmer tones. At last, the ring lit up. He found the spot with the familiar tight enchantment of Object Track, then cast the follow-up Disenchant. “Exotus mia enchantus duo dai ideum exat,” and delicately began unraveling the extremely fine Dreadnought tendrils. At long last, hands practically shaking as if frozen, the enchantment dissolved.
But Augum did not celebrate, instead shouting, “Aaaargh! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He frantically searched for the other ring, but found his pockets empty. Gods, he must have lost the Resistance Exot ring in last night’s fight!
“You dumber than a pile of cow manure,” Sal the bandit said. “And you is weakening.” He was standing nearby, twirling the cleaver while stroking his salt-and-pepper beard. His features were blurry though, as if seen through a prism. He pointed the cleaver at Augum. “How’s about you and I dance?”
“You’re not real,” Augum blurted.
“This here cleaver’ll say I is.”
Augum slammed his hands together. “BAKA!” and blew the shadow away. Panting, he glanced around, but the Ravenwood looked the same in all directions. He could scale a tree and look for the castle, or … Then another idea came to him. He touched his throat. “Amplifico.” He felt his throat open up, strengthen. “HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” he shouted in an arcanely amplified voice that sent birds scrambling from the trees.
His call was echoed distantly and he began to sprint. Shadows reached out to him, trying to jab him with knives or claws or who knew what. He frantically dodged them as he ran, only wanting to get back to his group. Please would they not just leave him alone!
And this went on for a while, Augum would shout and they would reply, until, at long last, he was reunited with his friends, receiving hugs from everyone. There was Bridget, Leera, Jengo and Brandon. The girls still had traces of pixie dust on their cheeks from the celebration. All had deep rings under their eyes, their voices hoarse from shouting for him all night. Apparently a few students had remained behind to help in the search. Unfortunately, he had run so far during his rabid sprint and in a peculiar direction—southwest of the castle—that they had trouble finding him.
Bridget immediately used the Exot orb to inform those back at the castle that they had found Augum safe and sound, while Augum told the tale of what happened.
“We tracked the Exot ring to your battle with the wraith,” Bridget said when he finished, handing it to him. “Couldn’t find you though.”
“Apreyo,” Leera said, lovingly repairing his torn robe while he sat against a tree, panting. Jengo also healed his cuts and bruises. And behind them, hungry shadows stalked in the woods.
“And so he knows,” Jengo said after healing his ankle. “Your father knows where we are.”
“Maybe. I dispelled the Object Track enchantment on the captured Exot ring. Don’t know if I did it in time. But he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to come after us. Where’s Nana? We have to tell her everything.”
“She had to give up searching the woods for you out of exhaustion, trusting the search to us,” Bridget replied. “She’s asleep. Want me to wake her?”
“No, but we have to make it look like the castle is deserted. It’s the first place my father’s going to check once he figures out which necromancer is missing.” That’s two now in this approximate vicinity—Audenteroch and this insect necromancer.
“You can certainly wreak havoc, Stone,” Brandon said with a smile, helping him stand. “We saw that nasty bug of a necromancer.”
“Huh?” Augum said, too focused on a shadow trying to creep close to Brandon. It ducked behind a tree just as everyone glanced in its direction.
“You all right?”
“You see that?” Augum asked.
Brandon glanced at the woods. “See what?”
Bridget was studying him. “How many heartbeats?”
Augum felt the deep ache in his bones. He had not told them about the side effects either, how the shadows had attacked him half the night. He still felt them, could sense them near. Sometimes he thought he saw one of them peeking from around a tree. It made him jumpy.
“My love? How many heartbeats?” Leera pressed in a whisper. She stopped him and looked deep into his eyes, studying him.
Brandon frowned. “Heartbeats? What are you guys talking about?”
Augum swallowed. “Sixty.”
The girls gasped as their hands smacked over their mouths.
“What are we talking about?” Brandon pressed, glancing between them all.
“We can’t tell you, we’re sorry,” Bridget replied quickly. By the way she and him were looking at each other, Augum could tell they had spent the night searching together. It gladdened his heart.
Bridget returned her gaze to Augum. She didn’t have to say anything. Her thoughts were written on her gravely worried face. And Leera’s too—both girls fully understood what it meant. His body had aged four months in the span of sixty heartbeats, plus another month from his previous casting, meaning he had aged almost half a year in no time at all—only two castings, in fact.
“Thankfully you don’t look different,” Bridget said as they began to walk back to the castle. “And you cast it in battle, which is a good sign.”
“You’re talking about some sort of powerful secret off-the-books spell, aren’t you?” Brandon asked.
“It’s best you don’t know more than you already do,” Bridget replied. “I’m sorry, but it’s important.”
“I understand. And I won’t mention what I’ve heard to the others.”
“Thank you.” She suddenly made a distasteful noise with her teeth as she withdrew the Exot orb, then spat into it, “Cease contact.”
“Bowlander?” Brandon mouthed.
She only gave a stiff nod.
“How do you feel?” Leera whispered to Augum, holding his hand tight as they walked.
Augum watched the stalking shadows in the woods. His insides were chaos, his soul troubled. “Unhinged,” was all he could say.
They walked in silence for a time, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
“The rest of us need to get back to the academy,” Brandon said after a while. “Mrs. Hawthorne’s going to have a heck of a time explaining our absence to the Legion authorities at school.”
“I wish you could stay,” Bridget said softly.
“I do too …”
She
smiled at him. “Thank you for … helping me last night, and for staying to search. You didn’t have to, yet you did.”
Brandon only smiled back at her.
There was definitely something between them, Augum thought, glancing to Leera, hoping to draw a knowing look. But she did not return it. Instead, she was still studying him with deep worry in her dark eyes.
“Just an ache in my bones,” he said. “Don’t worry so much.” It was a lie, but he didn’t want to trouble her.
She forced a nervous smile and drew him nearer, squeezing his waist. “Missed you so much,” she whispered. “I was so worried … we all were.”
“Missed you too,” he replied, squeezing her in return.
Back at the castle, the students had already been rounded up and quickly teleported to the academy, while those others who had stayed behind to help—Secretary Klines and Ms. Jezebel Terse—had teleported away soon as Bridget sent word Augum had been found. Augum felt bad for everyone losing so much sleep over him, not to mention for ruining a great party. Just unfortunate bad luck, having a necromancer stumble across them like that.
“We better start rounding everybody up,” Bridget said, glancing about the grounds at the many Milham villagers who had already begun the day’s work. She smiled at Brandon. “Want to help?”
“Until Hawthorne returns for me, of course, Princess Bridget.”
“Told you to stop calling me that—”
“Oh, I’ll help you too—” Jengo said, only to be yanked back by Augum.
“No you won’t, need your help with something,” Augum quickly said to a puzzled Jengo, allowing Bridget and Brandon to depart.
“What do you need help with? Something else hurts?”
“Nah, I’m fine, just thought those two could use some time alone together.”
“Oh. Of course. Guess I’ll spread the word inside the castle then. If it’s not too late, that is. We could be dead by lunchtime,” and he quickly strode away.
