Legend (The Arinthian Line Book 5)

by Sever Bronny

  Cry scoffed. “Magua? Who’s that? Some ‘evil witch’?”

  “Actually, yes,” Augum muttered, fully conscious of how ridiculous this all had to sound to them. These people hadn’t heard of Magua or Ley—and why would they believe in Ley when the plane had sequestered itself for over fifteen hundred years? Heck, some Milham villagers probably hadn’t even believed in arcanery until recently. And he sympathized, for not too long ago he hadn’t believed in arcanery either …

  Nor did it lighten the people’s hearts when Leera informed them Mrs. Stone went out in a blaze of glory in a mythic duel against a Von Edgeworth.

  The doubt was palpable. For all these people knew, the trio were telling them fanciful stories because they themselves were in shock, unable to rationally speak about losing their mentor. Augum saw this behind their eyes and more. Further, the fear on their faces coupled with the unsure glances told him they now worried about the Legion’s imminent arrival. In that regard, they were not alone.

  Then, like a thought fire spontaneously caught by everyone, conversation broke out. The gaggle was incessant and laced with anxiety. Augum heard snippets of harrowing near-death escapes from the Academy of Arcane Arts, and how the students had ended up fracturing off into various subgroups of runaways centered around families and teachers. Those who had escaped to Castle Arinthian centered around Mrs. Hawthorne’s hand-chosen few, as well as some family and friends. But, based on the red faces, too many were left behind in the chaos.

  Mr. Okeke quietly spoke with Mr. Goss, who minded Leland, the little tyke idly clutching the heavy Agonex in one fist. Augum had not noticed it before, but his mangled face showed a new seriousness that could only have come from seeing combat. It was good to see him safely returned. Yet he wondered how many soldiers in Occulus’ Agonex army were left …

  The Harouns spoke urgently with a wheezing Constable Clouds, who kept nodding in serious agreement. His chatty son, Devon, pestered Haylee with rapid-fire questions. She merely stood against a wall, biting her lip in thought. Chaska stood beside with folded arms, slowly shaking his head. Brandon Summers was already by Bridget’s side, the pair talking animatedly in hushed tones. Her face was aglow. It was heartwarming to see. But behind her, in the background, stood a moody Broderick Bowlander, himself crowded by Malaika and Charissa. His face plainly showed disdain and jealousy. Augum recalled that pleading conversation the two of them had and how Bowlander shouldered past him.

  So many people … and Augum felt responsibility for them all. Here they were, milling awkwardly, quietly, in the castle of his ancestor, a castle he would soon be the castellan of.

  If he survived …

  Augum said little. He sat in thought on the marble steps, one hand entwined with Leera’s and the other clutching the scion in his sleeve, for he was not yet ready to discuss it. As aware as he was of the room, his mind raced along tangents and possibilities. The scion-amplified effect of Centarro had faded significantly, but not totally. It simmered in the background like a cauldron over a low fire.

  He felt like a new person in subtle ways. Every spell in his arsenal could be cast afresh. And his ability to learn new spells, to concentrate, had been greatly enhanced. He felt he could see and read into things on new levels, grasp previously-hidden nuances. Ideas came at a faster clip, and he saw numerous miniature insights that made it seem like his previous brain had been infantile in comparison.

  But it was the planning that took up most of his focus. There were things to be done. The castle and the people and the trio had to be well prepared. Training would have to be undertaken. There would have to be serious delegation. They had to find the master runeword too. That was paramount. Mrs. Stone also said something about instructions given from an ally. Instructions to what? It had to be the scion. But who was the ally?

  “All right, everyone, that’s enough,” Jezebel Terse finally declared, raising her hands at the assembled throng. “You’re all yapping each other’s ears off—and I know we have a lot to digest here, what with the fresh arrivals, the news about Mrs. Stone, and the raid on the academy—but everyone’s tired and hungry. Faces like ghosts, the whole miserable bunch of you! Shoo! Plenty of work to be done around here after.” She turned on the trio. “Stone, Burns, Jones—get your conceited, unruly selves cleaned up and go eat.” Everyone else called them Princess or Prince or Hero or Lord and Lady, but here Jez was merely smiling wryly.

  “It’s good to see you,” Leera chirped.

  Jez ruffled her hair. “Good to see you too, monkey. Glad you survived. Sorry I couldn’t stick around. Brought Leland back only to hear about what shape the academy was in. Now come, there’s a lot to talk about. Something tells me his Royal Highness has a plan.” She was thumbing at Augum. “I mean, look at that face. Haven’t seen someone concentrate so hard since accidentally walking in on Father trying to take a poop—”

  “—Ms. Terse,” Mrs. Hawthorne interjected, primly adjusting her towering beehive bun. She was standing nearby discussing the situation with some parents. “There are students and younglings about.”

  “And I can assure you they know things that would shrivel your ears, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Jez replied. “But I digress.” She waved at her flock. “Shoo, filthy beasts! Get your behinds moving. Wash up first, then we meet in the supper room. Got it?”

  Leera smiled. “Got it, Jez,” before yanking on Augum’s hand and charging upstairs. She seemed to be eager to be alone with him, but surely not as eager as he wanted to be alone with her.

  Desire

  A fist pounded on the door to Augum’s room, forcing him and Leera to unglue themselves from each other. All the terror from their adventure, the fear of death, and the countless close calls had them craving contact. They had been pawing at each other like hungry cats.

  “Didn’t I tell you two to hurry up?” Jez said from the other side. “And I wasn’t born this morning. I know exactly what you two miscreants are up to in there. Just because you’re Prince and Princess doesn’t mean you get time off from acting the part!” There was a tinge of anger in her voice Augum hadn’t heard before.

  “Smarten up! Come on!” Jez snapped.

  “Shoot,” Leera whispered, cheeks ablaze while she adjusted her hair.

  Augum also felt the sting of embarrassment. He allowed the scion to return to him. It had sat on top of his trunk, tethered to his mind. Already he was unconsciously tuning to it.

  The two of them opened the door, faces crimson. Jez stood there alone, a serious and disapproving look on her face, a look Augum was not used to seeing.

  “I knew it, you haven’t even washed up.” She threw up her hands. “Come on, you two—” she said in tones of You should know better. “I’ve been tasked to watch over you by Mrs. Stone. Both of you. The crotchety old loon somehow got it into her head that I was most suitable for the part. You believe that? I’m supposed to teach you about the traditions involved and all those proper things expected of a prince and his princess. Do you know how much it pains me to use words like ‘propriety’?”

  Augum and Leera stood frozen in place. As enlightened as Augum felt with the scion and that perpetually simmering feeling of Centarro, he felt … stupid in that moment. There was no other way to describe it really.

  “Exactly. But I’m not kidding here,” Jez continued. “Neither of you have anyone to teach you these things. If left to your own devices, you’d immediately, you know—” She made that doves-fighting-each-other gesture again with her hands. “Anyway, that’s all for later, for a future we have to earn. In the meantime, there are traditions to be respected. Serious kingdom-wide traditions. You are Prince and Princess now, and that means no craziness before marriage. Every single eyeball is going to be looking at you for inspiration and hope. I’ll be damned if you’re going to throw everything you’ve worked so hard for on some cheap scandal. You have a serious fight ahead, the last fight this tired kingdom will hopefully see for a while. You need to prepare. You need to focus. You are leade
rs now. Act like it. Be leaders.”

  Augum’s insides buzzed in an unfamiliar fashion.

  “You’re gaping stupidly.” Jez sighed. “Look, my little monkeys, I sound harsh only because I care about you. And I get it, you think you might not have much time, so you want to … you know, indulge. That’s totally understandable. But earn it. Do you understand? Earn it. First, survive. Then respect the old traditions of the kingdom, otherwise, what’s the point? What are we fighting for here? Sure, it might take years before the two of you are ready … but trust me when I tell you it’ll be worth it.”

  Augum and Leera exchanged a pained and abashed look.

  Jez opened her palms to them. “Are we all in on this together here or what? Do I have your promise you two will respect the old traditions?” She smacked her lips loudly. “All right, at least until you are man and woman and sixteen years of age?”

  Augum and Leera nodded dejectedly.

  “Yes, Jez, of course,” Leera said.

  “We promise,” Augum added, feeling a tinge of disappointment. Already the weight of responsibility was impeding on his freedom. But he recognized he’d have to suppress his desires for the kingdom’s needs.

  “Good. I’ll hold you to it. Just be responsible, and I know you’re capable of that. Like I said, I also made a promise to Mrs. Stone. I’m going to look after you, and I mean it.” After searching their eyes, she smiled. “But guess what.”

  Augum and Leera merely stood there stupidly.

  Jez gave each of their shoulders a playful shove. “Come on, monkeys, guess. And stop being so serious. You’re allowed to smile, you know. Mrs. Stone is certainly a Leyan by now and is readying to kick a certain witch’s behind.”

  Augum and Leera shrugged. He was not in the mood for jokes, and it seemed that neither was Leera.

  Jez made a Ta-da! gesture with both hands. “I’m your new mentor!”

  At last, Leera broke out in a massive smile. “Really?” She lunged at Jez with a hug, squealing, “That makes me so happy—!”

  Jez returned the hug before peeling Leera back. “All right, monkey, all right. Yes, it’s going to be fun, but I’m also going to make you work. And it’s going to be a team effort.” She placed her gaze on Augum. “Speaking of which, a very special someone is coming to have a word with you. I am told it is very important.”

  “Who?” Augum asked. It could only be the ally Nana had mentioned with instructions about the scion.

  “You’ll see. Now wash up, change out of those cursed necrophyte robes, and then get your fiendish behinds down to the supper room already. Get!” She smiled as she shooed them along, muttering, “Nasty teenagers …”

  Heavy Shoulders

  “You look taller,” Brandon said to Augum at the long dining table. He was sitting beside Bridget, the pair constantly sharing secret looks. The way they glanced at each other made Augum and Leera exchange their own smirking, knowing looks. It was real affection, and cute affection at that. All four of them wore their academy robes, and looked proud and regal in them.

  “Do I?” Augum replied absently, stabbing a shriveled potato. Probably because he was taller, even if just a little. Annocronomus Tempusari did that. His body had aged ten months in three castings. And it felt that way too. His bones ached on a deep level, his skin felt taut and his teeth buzzed. Or maybe that was all from the scion.

  But thinking of Bridget’s awful encounter with the spell and how much she had aged, well, it could have been worse … much worse. Thank the Unnameables that they had managed to undo that little mess-up.

  “Hey and by the way,” Augum whispered, leaning across Leera. “Don’t, uh, ingest anything from you-know-who.”

  Brandon, who had leaned across Bridget to hear better, briefly flicked his gaze to Bowlander, who sat in a sullen cloud beside a depressed Charissa and a chirpy Malaika. “Gotcha,” he mouthed with a wink.

  It was suppertime and for tonight, the trio had the largest helpings of venison, potatoes, leeks, purple onions and tomatoes. Everyone else was on tight rations. There was still a famine, and now there were a gazillion new mouths to feed. Augum and the girls had plowed through their meals, starving after so long without food. The core of the Resistance was here in the dining room while everyone else ate downstairs in the foyer or kitchen.

  The scion buzzed in Augum’s lap. There were many anxious and excited whispers about it, but Augum still wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet. Thankfully, people seemed to understand. He glanced over at the empty queen’s chair, left empty out of respect. His soul echoed that emptiness. He deeply missed Mrs. Stone. His mind raced with possibilities. Gates, teleportation, artifacts … but no, her return was impossible. Leyans—if she even was a Leyan—die upon re-entering Sithesia. She would never give them advice again. Never comfort them with her ancient wisdom. Never look upon them with those caring eyes.

  “Prince Augum—?”

  Augum snapped out of it. “Hmm?” Someone had been talking to him, and he had completely tuned out. So much for incredible concentration.

  “How does it feel to hold it?” It was chubby-cheeked Devon. But the entire table was watching him, even the girls. It seemed the time to talk about it had come.

  “Oh, uh, strange, I guess. It feels strange.” It was almost indescribable. He could wax on about the layers of complexity added by the scion, yet thought it wiser to keep things simple for now.

  “Strange like how?” Devon pressed.

  “Like … like my teeth buzz and stuff. So do my veins. And I feel … sharper. Kind of.”

  “Stronger?”

  “Arcanely, yes.”

  People exchanged looks and murmured amongst each other.

  “Think I can hold it?”

  “Devon, hush!” Malaika hissed. “You can’t touch a scion, are you mad?”

  “He’d blow the castle to smithereens,” Charissa added.

  “Can … can you at least show it to us again, Prince Augum?” Devon pressed, face reddening. “Please? I mean … what’s it do?”

  Augum saw the childish innocence behind his eyes. The boy did not know that the enemy would soon come, that he might soon be desperately battling a walker for his life. He just wanted to belong.

  But by everyone’s silence—including Bridget and Leera’s—Augum could tell they were all equally as curious. Mrs. Stone never spoke about the scion, nor did she exactly entertain questions. Why not open up a little?

  “Sure,” he said at last, and allowed the scion to float up from his lap and over to the center of the table. A moment ago he was completely lost to Mrs. Stone’s absence. Now he was about to speak casually on a legendary artifact in his possession. He felt like his emotions were brittle as glass, and he did not understand them as he had before. As opposed to his logic, they were more raw, more prone to drastic changes. It was odd, and probably had something to do with the scion.

  Or was it from his body aging almost a year in mere heartbeats?

  “Aug?” Leera prodded gently.

  “Right. Uh, in essence, the scion amplifies arcanery. But it also allows a wider boundary for pushing that arcanery.” He made a floppy twirling gesture with his wrist. “The arcane horizon sort of … broadens.” He cringed. “Err, know what I mean?”

  Heads nodded vaguely. He realized they just wanted to hear that a void had been filled after Mrs. Stone, that they were not alone, that they were protected.

  But he was no legendary warlock. He was no living master with a hundred years experience. He was a 5th degree warlock who had just acquired a powerful artifact, an artifact he knew very little about.

  Devon made a snatching gesture. “Can’t the enemy just … you know, arcanely steal it?”

  Augum shook his head. “It’s impervious to Telekinesis and tunes to the wielder.” Mrs. Stone’s letter touched on the subject—scions are special in many ways, that being one.

  The scion flashed with silent lightning, making people gasp and sit back.

  Leera
made a dismissive gesture. “It’s fine, it does that all the time.”

  “Yet your father has six of them.” It was Bowlander, and he was giving Augum a contemptuous look. His eyes briefly flicked to Bridget while resolutely ignoring Brandon.

  Augum allowed a tense moment to pass before replying. “He is no longer my father. We are free of that bond in the old way.”

  Bowlander scoffed as he sat back, arms crossing. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  “How dare you!” Haylee shouted.

  “Why is he even here!” a red-eyed Elizabeth asked.

  As the table descended into chaos, Augum sighed and allowed the scion to return to him. Yes, he might very well get everyone killed, this was true. There was absolutely no denying it.

  “I’m here because I’m supposedly part of the Resistance!” Bowlander shouted back in mocking tones, waving his hand around and showing off his Exot ring before pointing at Bridget. “Even though she refuses to acknowledge my existence or share any plans with me!”

  “The Exot rings are useless!” Leera snapped, taking her ring off and slapping it onto the table with a SMACK. “We lost the Exot orb in a fight!”

  That silenced everyone.

  “Fine then.” Bowlander disdainfully took off his ring and flipped it onto the table too. It spun to a slow stop.

  Everybody else placed their gazes onto Augum. Even the girls were looking at him. The realization they were waiting for his response sunk his innards. He was the de-facto leader of the Resistance. Great.

  Leera absently played with her birthday bracelet. They knew him best, and their silent urging to have him say something on the matter ate away until he expelled a long breath, took off the now useless Exot ring, and casually placed it on the table.

  “It’s true, it’s useless,” he said, telekinetically pushing it toward the center before standing and sweeping the room with his gaze.

  Jez, who sat beside Mrs. Hawthorne, gave him a supportive smile as she took off her Exot ring and threw it onto the table, idly guiding it telekinetically to roll to the others. Mrs. Hawthorne soon did the same, giving him the slightest nod. It was as if they understood the role he had to play better than him. Things were changing so rapidly. He could barely keep up.