by Sever Bronny
At long last, just as Augum began to worry, faces emerged from the mouth of the tunnel, faces that brought a joyous smile to him. They were tired and beaten and gaunt, but they were alive.
And Augum ran to them, particularly to a certain girl, with a certain crooked smile.
Descent
The celebratory reunion had been bittersweet and short, for the Legion was searching for them. They had escaped, but apparently only just barely. Mrs. Stone was simply exhausted from repeated castings. She was unable to speak and had to be helped along by Bridget, who had a cut on her cheek. But it was poor Mr. Ribbons that suffered most, for his unfortunate wife had been lost in the fray.
“A harrowing thought,” Leera whispered, squeezing Augum’s hand. “His wife was knocked unconscious during the flood. Oh, Aug, the poor man! He held on to her as long as he could, but the whirlpool … tore her from his hands. He saw her float away into that black abyss …” Leera finished speaking with a hand clasped over her mouth, and the two embraced tightly as they walked.
Augum glanced over his shoulder at the shell of a man, who stumped behind the group like a ghost, coughing now and then, eyes vacant. It was evident his soul had been crushed, the better half of him lost forever. Augum tried not to picture Mrs. Ribbons suddenly waking up in that vast nothingness of the Cloud Chamber, calling out for her husband, only to suffer the reply of silence.
“Maybe she’ll find a wall,” Augum said to Leera. “Maybe she’ll get out on her own somehow …”
Leera nodded vigorously. “Yes, she’ll probably find a way out,” but Augum could see the knowing pain behind her eyes, and felt the dread in his own fears. Mrs. Ribbons did not know arcanery, and thus could not use Telekinesis to her advantage, or Shine for that matter.
He did not want to think about it anymore, it was too awful a thought, to be floating out there forever in that ancient cavern, without light, without hope, alone … Instead, he told himself that she could not have survived the whirlpool while unconscious.
As they crossed the iron bridge, Leera told the whole story since their separation. Mrs. Stone had apparently cast Annocronomus Tempusari not once but twice in order to save them during combat against the undead, that’s how close to death they had come. Somehow, one of the explosions was so powerful it punctured the floor of the swamp. Bridget had then lost the Exot orb in the power of the whirlpool, which explained why Augum could not reach her. After being sucked through to the Cloud Chamber, the group desperately used Telekinesis to keep together. As much as the girls had called for Augum and Mrs. Ribbons, neither had replied in the chaos, and Mrs. Stone was too weak to help arcanely. They got lucky and had found an exit passage not far in, then had to make their way down through the vast labyrinthine complex while trying to avoid the Legion.
They reached the elevator and stepped inside. Augum pulled the handle to the down position. The doors slid closed as the elevator clanked to life and began descending.
“We were so worried, Aug,” Bridget whispered. “We thought …” She shook her head, not wanting to verbalize it.
“So did I,” Augum said, shivering at the thought of that vast room. “But you’ll never believe who I fought … Erika Scarson.” He allowed them a shocked moment before continuing. “She had been raised as a fiery revenant, a revenant bent on revenge.” He recalled her saying how while his enemy was death, hers was boredom.
“What happened?” Leera pressed.
“We fought in the weightless abyss. It was … an interesting battle.”
Leera gave his hand a squeeze. “But you defeated her.”
“I defeated her.” He recalled the dark and lonely time after. “I flew in that room, you know,” Augum whispered, momentarily extending his arms out like a bird and giving one flap. “It was … incredible. But lonesome.”
“One of the Dreadnoughts saved us from taking a wrong turn right into a room full of revenants,” Bridget said in a distant voice as she continued to comfort Mrs. Stone. “Then he misinformed a revenant commander as to which direction we had gone. We heard that when the revenant found out, he killed the Dreadnought …”
“His name was Theo,” Augum said. A flash of memory from some age long turned to dust, that of a young lion playing with his cubs.
“Theo …” Bridget whispered.
Mrs. Stone startled suddenly, edging away from the corner where Mr. Ribbons stood like a broken shadow. “No, Dradeya, you cannot have it,” she whispered, hands and head shaking violently. “It is not for you … Father’s wishes …” She finished the sentence mouthing the words, voice too weak to make a sound.
Bridget embraced her gently. “It’s all right, Mrs. Stone, it’s only the side effects of Annocronomus Tempusari.”
Augum exchanged a dark look with Leera. He recalled that Dradeya was Mrs. Stone’s sister, and she had demanded the scion from Mrs. Stone when they were the trio’s age. The two fought, and Dradeya ended up dying.
“She has been in a right state since casting Cron,” Leera whispered, holding Augum close. “She was already weak, and something about the double casting …”
He watched Bridget comfort the legendary but frail warlock. Mrs. Stone was whispering something about her father, who had died from the necrotic plague. Even after all these years, those old wounds remained. Suddenly Augum realized that she had not been haunted by necessarily dangerous shadows, but by shadows of guilt from the past. Of loss and love. This was her great torment, a torment she had no doubt been expertly hiding this entire time. Now, hunkered in the corner like a shriveled, lost little girl, Mrs. Stone looked beaten, frail, exhausted, and so very, very old.
The elevator clunked along as it descended further and further. It passed no more doors; there was only one floor left now. The air grew hotter and hotter, until they began to sweat profusely.
“Could use some water,” Leera said. “Or food for that matter. I could really go for a fluffy, sweet almond honey cake.” Her eyes had rings under them, making Augum wonder once more how long it had been since they all had some sleep or food. That room had messed with his sense of time.
But his thoughts quickly drifted to what lay ahead. Esha said something dangerous guarded his mother’s body. And the Legion would surely figure out where they were heading, if they hadn’t already …
At last, the elevator stopped at the bottom. The doors slid open with a whir, and the group filed out into a dark tunnel. The rock was crudely hewn, with grubby unlit torch sconces.
“Shyneo,” the trio said, lighting their palms.
“Mr. Ribbons?” Bridget coaxed.
The man stood in the elevator, mouth agape, eyes wide. He seemed to be recalling something harrowing.
“Mr. Ribbons—?” Bridget repeated in a soft voice.
Mr. Ribbons gave her a blank look.
“We have to go, Mr. Ribbons.”
“Oh. All right.” He stumped out of the elevator like a man unaware of who or where he was.
Once out of the elevator, Augum spotted two etched ovals on the wall. Etched above one was the outline of the Black Castle, and above the other, a drawbridge. He tapped them with a finger. “Here’s our way out. The trigger phrase is emerge exato. I heard Persephone say it.”
“Let’s keep going before someone shows up,” Bridget said, yet just as he finished speaking, the elevator doors closed and the lift began to ascend.
“Shoot, should have jammed it,” Augum said.
Leera grabbed his hand. “We need to move. Now.”
The weary group paced down a mine-like tunnel, Augum and Leera in the lead, Mrs. Stone helped by Bridget, Mr. Ribbons lumbering along in the rear. The passage was straight and gradually declined in elevation, the heat and mugginess near unbearable.
They arrived at a wall made of smooth stone blocks, the center of which was a hole where three of those giant blocks had been removed.
Augum shone his palm at the hole. Beyond was a simple stone room. “Rivican,” he whispered to the others.
/>
“Legion must have dug their way into this place,” Leera said.
“I’m going in.” Augum was about to hop up onto the stone when Leera grabbed his hand.
“Wait, could be trapped.”
“Right.” He quickly splayed a hand over the opening. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” but sensed nothing. “We’re good.” He hopped up onto the stone and jumped through the opening before helping Leera and the others navigate the obstacle. The room was spacious and unremarkable, with only a single doorway with no door. It looked exactly like the kind of rooms they had found under Bahbell—stark, bland, dusty.
There came a groan from the room over and the group froze. Augum barely registered someone stumbling behind him. He and Leera readied in attack poses as an old woman with long gray hair and a wobbly, unsure gait stumbled through the doorway. But it was the face that made no sense at all. It was terribly familiar, almost as if it was—
“Bridget’s mother—!” Leera cried suddenly. “How in Sithesia can you be here, Mrs. Burns?”
The woman began crying when she saw the group, and tried to run to them but tripped and fell in her awkwardness, croaking, “help …”
Augum and Leera sprinted to her while Mr. Ribbons cried, “The devil’s work … the devil’s work!” Augum thought the same, for Mrs. Burns had died in Sparrow’s Perch.
“Bridge, get over here!” Leera shouted, helping the old woman. “Why is your mother—” only to freeze.
Augum looked up to see her gaping in horror at Mrs. Stone, who lay on the ground beside Mr. Ribbons. “Where’s Bridge—” he began to say only to freeze as well.
He and Leera slowly turned to the old woman in their arms.
Augum could barely speak. “Bridget …?”
The Count
“Bridget, that really you?” Augum repeated in a weak voice.
The old woman slowly nodded, eyes flicking to and fro at shadows that surely were not there.
“Gods, no,” Leera blubbered, lower lip trembling. “No, no, no, no, no …” She drew her old friend into a gentle embrace, shoulders shaking. “Oh, Bridge. Oh, Bridge …”
Augum, cold with horror, wanted to retch. His worst nightmare with Cron had come true. Here their best friend lay as an old, gaunt woman. Her nose had lost its pertness, her face was wrinkled, and her hair was frizzy and gray.
Bridget urgently tugged on Augum’s sleeve.
“She’s trying to tell us something—” he said.
“Passed … out … in … the … spell …” Bridget wheezed through chattering teeth, as if she was frozen through. “Woke … up … old …” She pointed a trembling finger at the wall. “Reveal … failed … silent … alarm … sprung …”
Augum grabbed the sides of his head, wanting to crush his own skull. It was his fault. Gods, it was his fault! Reveal … he had rushed the spell and failed! How could he have been so stupid, so careless! Mrs. Stone had warned him to have others cast Reveal in case the first caster failed! He had set off an alarm and—
“Sparkstone … coming …” Bridget wheezed, eyes flicking to Augum and widening. “Please, Aug, don’t say such … cruel things … it hurts to hear you say that … she loved you so …”
“I didn’t say anything, Bridge,” Augum could only whisper.
“Bones … hurt …”
“Bridget, you’ve got to focus—” Leera said through heavy sniffs. “How do we reverse this? Please just tell us how we can reverse this!”
“Mrs. Stone … must … help …”
But after glancing back at Mrs. Stone, it was plain she was unable to help.
“I can fix this,” Augum blurted. And it was his damn mess to fix. He grabbed Bridget’s hands in his own and stared into her old and cloudy eyes. The lines on her face deepened. “I can fix this,” he repeated. “I’ll cast Cron, get us back to just before the wall—” He froze, goose bumps rising on his skin. Gods, every heartbeat that passed had to be reversed within the spell—there was no time to waste!
“I have to cast it immediately—” He scrambled to his feet, mind frantically working away, desperately trying to concentrate. Every heartbeat that passed …
Bridget again began to speak haltingly. “Mrs. Stone … Edge—” only to suddenly freeze with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“It’s only a shadow, poor Bridge,” Leera said. “What else can you tell us? Hmm, Bridge? What else does Augum need to know?”
Augum was shaking as he listened. Every heartbeat that passed meant two days of aging. Every. Single. Heartbeat.
“Mrs. Stone … vial …” She weakly gestured for him to go.
Leera turned to Augum. “Cast it! Go, go, go—!”
Augum nodded furiously. “My mess to fix.” Right. Cast it. He tried to assemble the mental components of the spell, but the sight of Bridget had shaken him to the core, and knowing that it was his fault …
Leera stood, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Concentrate, Augum, I know you can do this.” She drew him near and kissed him passionately on the lips. “I love you so much. You can do this! I’ll perform the gestures with you. Ready?”
“I love you too,” he said. She gave him the strength he needed. “Ready.” After a moment of deep concentration, they performed the complicated gestures together, Leera mouthing the words, Augum saying them aloud. Her confident smile was a beacon fire, guiding him through the complexity of Annocronomus Tempusari.
“Gennisi xanno aetate reversa tempus potam xaeternum veteri momentus mortem.”
The unfathomable arcane ether exploded at his soul, a thousand needles a moment, a river of raking pain. Augum stepped aside from himself and began counting heartbeats. He watched as Leera recited the spell backwards along with his ghostly self.
Ten heartbeats.
The gestures concluded with ghost Augum saying “ydaeR”. He and Leera kissed and exchanged backward I love you’s before ghost Augum went into a state of reverse hesitation. Meanwhile, the real Augum cursed himself for his inefficiency.
Twenty heartbeats.
Leera interrogated old Bridget. It was difficult to make out what she was saying in reverse, but Augum recalled it had been something about Bridget telling them what else they needed to know, which included the word “vial”. He saw his ghostly self waste more time trying to figure out how to cast the spell. How clueless he had been! All he had to do was ask her how far back he should go and cast the spell! Every gesture felt like an immortal waste of time, every word an eon.
And the arcane ether steadily strengthened its beating flow. It coursed through his body, a river of jagged ice beating down on his soul, ramming his arcane strength, draining his precious stamina. That’s how Bridget passed out, no doubt. It had beaten her into submission. Perhaps the greatest miracle was that she had woken up at all.
Thirty heartbeats.
Old lady Bridget was now telling them what had happened to her. Augum found himself urging her to hurry. Soon ghost Augum and Leera let go of her in reverse and released her to awkwardly get up and stumble backward through the doorway.
At last, come on, come on! Augum returned to the stone hole and climbed through to the other side, impatiently waiting for his ghost self and the others to follow in reverse.
Fifty heartbeats.
His heart rate increased with anxiety. His extremities began to cool as his brain fought the deadly ether. Suddenly he witnessed Mrs. Stone return to standing, after having fallen to the floor. Then Bridget blinked into existence, supporting her once more. That was the moment Bridget must have woken up in the other room and yelled for the spell to stop. He could only imagine what a harrowing journey she had to have undergone, what kind of battle she had seen. He wished he could have squeezed out potential clues as to what and who they faced, for she must have seen them go quite far. His father eventually had to have come, of course, but not for some time.
At sixty heartbeats, his ghost self was reverse-casting Reveal, the spell he had failed. Augum, teeth gri
tted against the mighty forces of the arcane ether, readied to make the gesture. As soon as he heard himself mention that it was a Rivican structure and saw himself withdraw his shining palm from the hole, he yanked at the air, shouting, “STOP!”
It felt like he had been flying at a tremendous speed only to slam into a wall. He fell to his knees, gasping, wanting to vomit. But he hadn’t eaten in ages and only dry-heaved.
Leera immediately grabbed him, voice frantic. “Aug, are you all right? What happened! Aug—!”
“Gods, he cast Cron,” Bridget said while holding onto Mrs. Stone.
“You’re young again,” he gurgled to her, feeling waves of relief.
“I don’t understand …”
“Don’t … touch … wall,” he managed to say, feeling the combined weakness of the last day draw down on him. “Sorry … need … moment’s … rest …”
Leera glanced over her shoulder at the dark tunnel toward the elevator. She needn’t say it. They didn’t have a moment to rest.
Augum felt himself going limp in her arms as his eyes unfocused. When they refocused, he found himself in a certain iron room.
“They’re all going to die here,” a voice whispered.
Augum turned to see Robin’s malevolent face smiling from within a necrophyte hood. It was colorful and fleshy and real. Behind, the Blade of Sorrows looked on with dead eyes.
“No … they won’t,” Augum spat, feeling the cold iron beneath him.
“Choose, gutterborn. Bridget or Leera. Who do we kill first?”
“No …” What day was it? Why was his brain in such a fog?
“I sacrificed myself for you?” said another, softer voice, this one filled with sorrow. Augum turned his head the other way to see Miralda Jenkins, the healer who had sacrificed her life so he could cast arcanery once more.
Except she wasn’t dead. He glanced about. They lay amongst the burning Legion camp at Hangman’s Rock.
