by Sever Bronny
“Err—”
“I suggest we go outside and wait for the stars to come out, then see what the Great Spear points to,” Garryk said, glancing between them all with a lost expression. Augum suspected all the jokes had flown over his head.
“Yes, brilliant!” Bridget blurted, crimson face firmly averted from Brandon. “That’s exactly what we should do, yes.” Her eyes flicked about, desperately searching for an exit. “So, uh, let us, uh, proceed to doing just that … right now … yes.” She flashed Augum a horribly abashed look, snatched the parchment from Garryk and almost ran out of the library.
“Her Royal Highness seems to be in a bit of a hurry,” Brandon remarked.
“She must really like you,” Leera said, yanking Augum’s hand and walking after her. “I don’t think I’ve seen our precious Bridgey-poo so flustered and awkward before.”
Brandon’s brows rose. “ ‘Bridgey-poo’?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call her that,” Augum said as he was dragged past.
“Why not? It’s adorable.”
“Because you value living.”
People
Outside on the main prince and princess terrace surrounding their rooms, Bridget seemed remarkably focused on the drawing of the constellations, orienting it this way and that while holding it up against the castle and the sky. Poor Garryk was made to stand and help, though he appeared as useless as a wagon without wheels.
“Uh, do you not want to wait until the stars come out fully there, Bridge?” Leera was leaning against the wall, wind whipping through her hair, hands in the pockets of her academy robe.
“I am aware, thank you very much. I was just … practicing. It will be night soon enough.”
“Oh, just leave her alone,” Augum said in an undertone. He was leaning against the castle beside Leera, arms crossed.
“You’re right, she has that murder-them-in-their-sleep look about her,” Leera whispered in reply.
Brandon awkwardly stood between the lot of them, looking like he was trying to figure out a way to approach Bridget without causing some kind of meltdown. Meanwhile, she was patently ignoring him.
Leera waved him to Bridget, mouthing, “Go help her.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?” Augum whispered.
“Nope, but I’m bored.”
They looked on as Brandon gallantly strode to her. “So, Bridgey-poo—”
“Uh oh—” Augum and Leera muttered in unison.
Bridget whirled on her heels, eyes ablaze. “How did you know that was my nickname?” Her eyes found Leera, who suddenly seemed terribly preoccupied with her nails. “Who told you? Hmm—?”
“Oh, uh—” Brandon turned to Augum, who was subtly shaking his head in warning.
“Don’t know, I think I overheard someone a while ago,” Brandon replied, flashing a cheery smile, one Augum mimicked when Bridget’s fiery eyes settled upon him.
Her gaze whipped back to Brandon. “Well I’ll have you know, Brandon Summers, that I hate that nickname. Is that understood?”
“Ouch, already the full name treatment,” Leera muttered.
“Oh. Of course. My apologies, Princess Bridget,” but she had already turned her back on him.
Augum flashed Brandon an I warned you look. Poor fool should have known better.
Brandon swallowed. “Can I, uh, maybe help in some way?”
Bridget whirled about, face flushed, quickly blurting, “What does a grape say when it’s stepped on—?”
Brandon scrunched his face in confusion. “Uh … I don’t know—?”
“Nothing, it just lets out a little whine—” she said just as quickly. “Get it? Wine—?”
Brandon only gaped. “Uh, I just remembered I have to, uh, inform the constable about Bowlander,” and departed with hurried but unsure steps.
Bridget stood watching with cherry cheeks and fiddling hands.
“I don’t think the stage is for you,” Leera said rubbing her face.
Bridget continued to fiddle.
Leera sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll come back,” she said, nodding firmly. “Well that was awkward,” she mumbled to Augum while scratching her nose.
“Maybe she should take joke lessons from Mr. Goss,” Augum said while clearing his throat.
“Not a bad idea. At this point, it’d be an improvement.”
“There’s the first star of the evening!” Garryk declared, pointing. Bridget was only too eager to return her attention to him, and as the pair fussed with the parchment—and Bridget’s gaze repeatedly flicked to the doorway—Augum saw Chaska peek around the corner of the terrace, secretly trying to get his attention.
“Uh, excuse me a moment,” Augum said to Leera, and casually strolled around the corner, only to be met by the specter of Chaska awkwardly wringing his hands.
“Hey, friend, are you all right?” Augum asked, thinking, Boy, never a dull moment around here.
“It’s about Haylee …” Chaska’s snow skin was flushed.
Of course it is, Augum thought. Poor lug. She wanted to get married and have him build them a fancy house and pack it full of nice things and dutiful servants, even though he didn’t feel ready in the least and hated that kind of stuff. Not to mention there was tension between them on the arcane front—Augum had heard she was frustrated with him for not wanting to learn arcanery at all, and he with her because he did not feel comfortable around it.
“You told her how you felt, didn’t you?” Augum said, recalling his advice to Chaska—that he should simply tell her he wasn’t ready for marriage.
Chaska nodded somberly. “She demanded I make up my mind as ‘There could be other prospects interested’, or something like that.”
“She didn’t really say that, did she?”
“She did.”
“Oh.” Now it was Augum’s turn to wring his hands. He wasn’t very good at this kind of stuff, and most of his brain was focused on a million other critical things. He was feeling a little distracted, and suddenly realized he no longer sensed the power of Centarro bubbling underneath his consciousness. He briefly considered casting it again, but realized that probably wasn’t such a good idea. What if he became addicted to it? Did that even happen to warlocks? It seemed ridiculous, yet—
“Augum?” Chaska was staring at him with pleading eyes, desperate for advice.
“Well, um … how do you feel about what she said?”
“Honestly?” Chaska’s warrior face struggled with the dilemma—he didn’t want to show weakness as a Henawa, but he obviously needed to talk about this.
“I hate all that stuff she says. She keeps needling me, putting me down. I lost a bunch of weight but she’s just moved on to other things to put me down with.”
Augum leaned closer, thoughts crystallizing a little. “Just tell her that. Let the cards fall where they lay.” He smiled and clapped Chaska on the back, repeating, “Let the cards fall where they lay.”
Chaska thought about it, the process seeming to tax his brain. But then he smiled tentatively. “Yeah, you’re right. I will do that.” He stood. “By the way, I think it’s ‘Let the cards lay where they fall.’ ”
“Oh. What did I say?”
“Let the cards fall where they lay.”
“Right.” Augum stood and extended his hand, feeling more mature.
Chaska took it. “Sorry to bother you with all this small stupid stuff. It’s just that …” He shrugged. “I got no one else, and you and Leera seem so well put together, all things considering.”
“It’s no bother.”
Chaska gave a nod and left by a separate entrance on the terrace. Augum expelled a long breath. At least he was able to pay more attention this time and be a better friend.
“What was that all about?” Leera asked when he got back. “Was that Chaska I saw?”
“Nothing special, he just needed a bit of advice.”
Leera nodded knowingly. “Haylee.”
Augum mimicked the nod. “Hayl
ee …”
“Never a dull moment around here,” she muttered, to which Augum gave her a funny look.
Her brows rose. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just I thought that exact thing earlier.”
Leera gestured between the two of them. “That’s because we’re soul mates, you and I.” She grabbed his torso with her nails. “Stuck to you like a leech,” and flashed him a clever smile.
Augum scrunched her close and kissed the top of her head. Then the pair looked on arm-in-arm as Bridget gestured excitedly at the numerous stars, proclaiming, “We can finally see the constellation of the Great Spear,” while shooting looks at the doors in hopes of Brandon returning.
* * *
At long last, with the sky blossoming with a glorious field of stars, Garryk traced his finger from the tip of the Great Spear, now plainly visible, all the way across the sky to another cluster of stars.
“It seems to point to another constellation, all right,” he said.
“Which one?” Bridget asked, yawning. They had been outside on the terrace for hours studying the parchment and the sky while more and more stars appeared. Much to Bridget’s obvious but silent dismay, Brandon had not rejoined them.
Garryk adjusted his clunky spectacles and tilted his head. “I think that’s the constellation of the castle.”
“Well that’s convenient,” Leera said.
Bridget was studying the stars. “Draw out the castle for us.”
Garryk did so, pointing at the stars that gave the rough outline of a castle.
“Is it me or is The Great Spear pointing to the top of the castle?” Bridget asked.
He nodded. “That appears to be accurate.” Augum, who had been following along from nearby, had to agree.
They glanced to the top of Castle Arinthian, on which rested a watchtower. That was where the next clue lay. Augum couldn’t wait to get to it.
Garryk yawned and rubbed his eyes. “This is interesting and all, but you must forgive me, I really need to go to bed. I’m exhausted.” He handed Bridget the drawing.
“No problem,” she said absently, eyes flicking to the doorway.
“Thanks, Garryk,” Augum said as the boy took his leave.
Bridget shook her head sadly. “He still hasn’t returned. I’m awful, aren’t I?”
“Brandon’s just playing mind games,” Leera said, yawning and stretching her arms. “Don’t worry about it. He likes you quite a bit.”
“You really think so?”
“Yep.”
“In what way?”
“In that way.”
“But—”
“Boys really make you unsure of yourself, eh?”
Bridget only bit her lip while gazing at the drawing with a dull, unfocused look.
“Shall we investigate the watchtower?” Augum asked. He had spent the majority of the time pondering everything that had been bothering him, especially the part about seeing the girls in the memorial fire. As much as he tried, that image refused to extricate itself from his brain. He was thus determined to solve the master runeword puzzle before bed. Every night that passed was one step closer to their possible doom. It made him not even want to sleep, as drained as he was.
Bridget rubbed her eyes. “I’m exhausted in more ways than one. Let’s call it a night.”
“Another hour,” Augum said. “Come on, you two, we can do this.”
The girls sighed tiredly in unison.
“Augum, you know Jez is waking us up early, right?” Bridget said.
“She is?”
“Training. And plenty of it. Not to mention—”
“—plans, right.”
“Which you still haven’t fully filled us in on,” Leera pointed out.
“We’ll talk about it.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“When’s ‘soon’?”
“In the morning.” He just had to sleep on it. He tapped the parchment. “But this has to be solved as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Bridget said. “We know the next clue and can continue it tomorrow. Now stop torturing us and let us get some sleep. Big day ahead.” She grimaced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”
“It’s fine,” Leera said. “We know what’s bothering you.”
Grudgingly, Augum relented, and wished the girls good night, giving a bleary-eyed Leera a kiss on the lips.
But he had no plans of going to bed himself.
The Great Spear
As soon as the girls went to bed, Augum raced upstairs through a dark and slumbering castle, all the way to the watchtower. There he found a half-asleep night watchman manning his post. It was one of the young village men under the charge of Briggs, the Captain of the Watch.
“Your Highness—!” the young man blurted, jarring to attention so suddenly his dented bowl helm slid over his eyes. He sheepishly raised it, though his eyes remained on the floor. He was scraggly with pockmarked cheeks and callused hands. Probably a Milham farm boy or laborer.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, I ain’t sleeping, it’s just so late and all—”
“—never mind all that,” Augum said quickly, scanning the night sky. It was clear and full of brilliant stars.
“Q-quite the view, is it not, Your Highness?” the young man stuttered.
“Amazing,” Augum said absently, comparing the drawing once more to the constellation of The Great Spear. “Don’t mind me.” Yes, there it was, and it pointed right to the watchtower on the constellation of the castle. He began scanning the walls below the parapet. The watchtower was the size of a small room. Wind whistled through its open architecture and its arched roof seams. Lichen grew on its ancient cracked floor.
But he found nothing.
“No, it would require a spell,” he muttered to himself. Just like the library clue.
“Your Highness—?”
Augum had to ignore the young man, concentrating instead on the Reveal spell. He was barely aware of the scion floating free from his pocket and humming nearby. The young man startled and took a few steps back.
“Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.”
A clue instantly lit up orange on the lichen floor.
The young man gazed over his shoulder, whispering cagily, “I ain’t going to be turned into no undead, am I, Your Highness? They isn’t coming now is they?”
“No, they isn’t coming yet,” Augum mumbled, barely conscious that he had slipped into the commoner slang. He squinted at the word au written in large letters, below which was a single elegantly written sentence, which he read reverently. “ ‘After our bones art dusteth, longeth shalt he remain.’ ”
“That poetry or somethin’, Your Highness?”
“ ‘After our bones art dusteth, longeth shalt he remain’,” Augum repeated, searching the young man’s pale eyes. “What do you make of that?”
“Sounds like you is talkin’ in riddles, Your Highness.” He frowned in thought. “If I was to guess, Your Highness, it sounds like it be referrin’ to a statue.”
“Yes, of course,” Augum whispered. Fentwick. He smiled. “Thank you, and good luck on the watch. Oh and don’t worry, you won’t be turned into the undead.” Augum then raced downstairs, leaving behind a mystified watchman.
Descendi au. He had now uncovered two fragments to the master runeword! He had no doubt they translated to Descendant of.
He found Fentwick loitering outside the girls’ room. As usual, he was as still as a statue. Soon as Augum approached, he loudly rattled to life.
“Woudst thou fancy a duel, Your Royal High—”
“—shhh!” Augum had to quickly say. “Follow me, Fentwick,” and guided the armor toward the terrace, where he was hoping to get more privacy.
Except Fentwick stopped at the double doors.
Augum beckoned impatiently. “Fentwick, come outside.”
“Leaveth the castle I canst, Your Highness.”
Somehow, that did not surprise Augum. Luck
ily they were in a distant enough hallway between his room and the girls’. It should suffice without waking them up.
“Fentwick, what’s the master runeword?”
“ ‘Master runeword’, Your Highness?”
“Yes, the watchtower clue took me to you.”
Fentwick did not respond. Augum realized it was probably because a question was not asked of him. He crossed his arms and tapped his elbows while he thought. After recalling Fentwick’s interaction with Lien Ning, an idea came to him.
“Descendi au—”
“—Arinthian,” Fentwick immediately finished in his tinny nasal voice, before turning on his heel to shuffle off in his clanking gait.
“The master runeword …” Augum whispered reverently, only to realize he was supposed to follow, which he did after lighting his palm.
The ancient suit of armor took him down the marble steps, which the old thing was barely able to navigate. Augum expected him to tumble any moment. Yet Fentwick persisted. It was almost cute.
“We’re going to oil you for your birthday,” Augum muttered as Fentwick clanked and squeaked away. He wondered when his birthday was … or if he even had one. It would be the date of enchantment, or perhaps forging even.
Fentwick ended up on the third floor, guiding Augum past rooms full of snoring people, all the way to the throne room where the academy boys had administered that amazing ritual of the three sacred tests. Then Augum watched as Fentwick gestured at the door, which silently opened for him. As Fentwick entered, the dark interior lit up
“Huh,” Augum could only exclaim in amazement.
Fentwick shuffled up the wide and long steps of the throne and settled to a statue-like stop behind it, facing the magnificent portrait of Atrius Arinthian.
“Of course,” Augum whispered. But as he came to stand by Fentwick, the ancient armor rattled to life. “Wouldst thou care for a duel, Your Royal Highness?”
“Not right now, Fentwick.” It seems, the task complete, Fentwick had forgotten all about the master runeword.
Augum thoughtfully examined the great portrait. The powerful steel blue eyes of Arinthian blinked now and then. The hair swayed gently in an invisible wind.
This was it. Augum took a deep breath and solemnly said, “Descendi au Arinthian.”
