by Sever Bronny
“Of course not,” he replied, before remembering his trek to Hangman’s Rock and the dangers he faced along the way.
She gave a stiff nod. “Good. Well then … palms forward?”
He breathed deep and nodded, sliding his other hand over the pommel of his sword, gaining courage from the cold steel.
The Cellar
It was a long way down to the cellar. At the bottom, the trio encountered roughly hewn rock walls and dirt ground, the ceiling four times the height of a man. The air was cold and damp, smelling of earth and ancient stone. The chamber sounded vast, even the tiniest noise echoing distantly. Broken crates were stacked immediately to their left, in the northeast corner, partitioned by a rotten wall adjoining a massive pillar.
“Must be one of the castle supports,” Augum whispered while approaching the pillar, palm outstretched with blue light. “Just look at the size of it.”
Leera pointed her shiny watery hand at a low structure in the center of the chamber. “Look.”
They approached, eyeing the darkness while listening for any sounds other than their own. Augum thought there was a very particular stillness down here, a kind of primordial silence long undisturbed. His entire body tingled knowing he was exploring something so ancient and mysterious.
Bridget tapped the rough stone lip. “It’s a giant well …”
The well had two wooden overhangs once used to lower buckets into its depths. The rope had rotted away but the marks of use were still there.
She peeked over the edge, leaning forward just a little, before recoiling with a shriek as Leera pulled her hand away.
Bridget smacked her on the arm. “Now you’re just begging to be thrown in—”
Leera put a finger to her lips. “Shh, there could be something down here.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible.”
“Wonder how deep it goes …” Augum peered over the edge while keeping Leera in sight. He picked up a small rock and dropped it in before Bridget could stop him. The trio listened and waited … and waited … yet no sound came from that inky depth.
“Okay, so it’s a little deep. I’m sure it has a bottom though.” He picked up a second rock, but this time Bridget grabbed his wrist.
“Better not …” she said, suddenly teary-eyed. “We’ll have to get our water elsewhere.”
His cheeks flared with guilt. “I’m sorry, Bridget, I didn’t mean—”
“—no it’s not that.” She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “It’s just that my father used to tend to the village well.”
“Aww, Bridge …” Leera hugged her gently and smoothed her hair. She gave her a moment. “So what do you think—where would the runeword be found in a place like this?”
Bridget straightened her cloak. “We should check the columns first; might be a servants’ marker or something like that.”
There were four gargantuan support columns spread evenly around the great room. The trio went back to the first and examined it carefully, finding nothing; but something else caught Augum’s eye at the edge of their light.
“Is that a dungeon—?”
Bridget and Leera whipped around.
He stepped before two massive wrought-iron gates inset into the north wall. Iron-worked ivy leaves spiraled up the bars, their dull-green paint long faded and cracked. Flanked by two sentry booths, the arched gates towered to the ceiling, as if designed to hold some enormous beast. The black stonework around them was the same as the outside of the castle.
Bridget gazed past the bars into the darkness beyond. “What is this?”
Leera’s head tilted back as she approached. “The gates to Hell …”
“I don’t see a lock,” Augum said, noticing how the entire central assembly came together to form the letter “A”.
“Must open arcanely,” Bridget whispered.
Leera held her palm close. “Wonder what ‘A’ stands for.”
“Don’t know,” Bridget said, “but I’ve seen it around the castle; it was carved into the giant table we ate on.”
“And the king’s chair,” Augum said.
Leera ran her fingers over the intricate letter. “Maybe it stands for the name of the royal bloodline the castle originally belonged to.”
Augum extended his lit hand as far as it would go past the bars, hoping the light would reach something. All he managed to see was an extra few feet of the rough walls. He sensed great depth and wanted to shout to hear how the echo sounded, yet what if whatever made all those scratches was still here, trapped behind these bars, watching them from that seemingly eternal darkness?
Leera’s voice was close to his ear. “Careful or you might lose it …”
He quickly withdrew his arm.
Bridget crouched. “Look at the dust. Dungeon must have stayed shut since the king ruled the castle two hundred years ago.”
“Makes sense why it’s locked then,” Leera said. “The runeword that opens the gates must have been lost with the king. Imagine being the poor fool trapped behind these bars for all eternity—”
“—or beast,” Augum added, nudging Leera.
The trio held their breath and listened a while.
“I don’t like this, let’s move on,” Bridget whispered at last.
The trio quietly retreated, only turning their backs once the gates disappeared beyond their circle of light. Even though he could not see them anymore, Augum found himself looking back in their direction while inspecting the next column.
“Nothing on this side,” he reported.
“Same here,” Bridget said, having inspected the other sides with Leera. “You know, on second thought I doubt we’re going to find the heating runeword on a pillar.”
“Let’s keep exploring then,” Augum said, spying something at the edge of their light in the northwest corner. He led them to a gigantic pile of rubble. “Well, whatever had been here is totally destroyed now.”
Leera kicked a stone. “I hope the runeword isn’t buried underneath or it’s going to be a cold winter.”
Augum had a vision of spending half his time cutting wood. “It’s got to be here somewhere.” He glanced about with renewed resolve. “Come on.”
They prowled the west wall until stumbling across a second set of massive iron gates identical to the first, minus the two sentry booths.
Leera grasped the bars, peering in. “What do you suppose is behind these, another dungeon?”
Augum reached beyond the bars with his lit palm. The way sound echoed within gave him the impression it was a vast room. There was something barely visible a distance away, like a stone slab. He squinted trying to make it out. “Wish my light was stronger.”
Bridget took a few steps back and gazed up. “That will come with training …”
“You see something, Bridge—?” Leera asked.
“Can’t tell, don’t have enough light.”
They assisted, raising their lit hands.
“There’s writing there,” Augum said, unable to quite make it out. The ceiling was so high the sign was just at the edge of their light.
“Think it starts with ‘C’,” Bridget said, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes.
“Think the next letter is ‘R’,” he said.
Leera frowned. “Think I need spectacles …”
Bridget abruptly covered her mouth and jumped back. “Crypt—!”
Augum and Leera recoiled away from the gates, as if the darkness beyond could come to life any moment. He felt the prickle of cold sweat, now sure he could discern the subtle scent of death. Mrs. Stone’s words about how his father was learning the necromantic arts returned from that morning. He hadn’t told the girls about that yet but intended to—now was definitely not the right time though.
“Well, we can be sure the runeword isn’t in there,” Bridget said.
Leera smirked. “Bet we could find out whose castle this was though—”
“Forget it, Lee. Not going in.”
“Can’t an
yway,” Augum said, stepping up to the bars and daringly giving them a rattle. “Locked.” The iron sound reverberated deep into the crypt. They listened as it faded to silence.
“Think about it, if those gates can keep people from walking in …” Bridget moved on, leaving them to finish the thought, though Augum did not think “people” was the right word. He and Leera exchanged a look before scuttling to catch up, breath frosting in the chill air of the cellar. The cold was not as sharp as the rest of the castle, but the dampness certainly made it more uncomfortable.
He rubbed his hands. “Could do with a warm fire …”
“Isn’t that the point of this little expedition?” Leera asked.
They next came upon the southwest corner, encountering the narrow spiral staircase first spotted through the hole in the wall a floor above. Beyond lay a myriad of rotten equipment.
“Looks like the poor weather training yard,” Augum said, picking up the rusted hilt of a sword, the blade missing. He nodded at straw-stuffed circles. “And I think those are archery targets.”
“Sir Westwood sure told you a lot about castles,” Leera said. “What happened to him anyway?”
Augum tossed the broken hilt aside. It clanged loudly, drawing a stern look from Bridget. “The Legion killed him when he tried to defend the village. He sent me away just before they razed it to the ground. That’s how I found Mrs. Stone.”
Leera turned over a piece of rotten wood with her foot. “What a coincidence that she’s your great-grandmother; and your father the Lord of the Legion—”
Bridget shot her a quelling look as Augum felt a creeping surge of guilt.
Leera rubbed her forehead. “Ugh, I’m horrible. Sorry, Augum …”
“But what you say is true,” though his insides still prickled. “Mrs. Stone says it could be anything, from fate, to luck, to providence—whatever that means.”
“Providence means the Unnameables had a hand in it,” Bridget said,
“Oh.” If there was one thing he barely understood, it was the gods. The common folk considered it a very bad omen to speak their names, not that anyone knew them. Only priests were allowed to utter them, and then only in church; and from what Sir Westwood had said, most churches resided in Canterra. Apparently, the Canterrans considered Solians heathens and Solia a godless kingdom. Anyway, why would the gods bother with an ant like him?
His voice darkened like the crypt. “And as for my father … he’s a murderer.”
Leera suddenly hugged him. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not your father.” When she let go, there was a pained expression on her freckled face.
He nodded, eyes downcast. He wanted to say something about her loss, something meaningful, but could not think of anything. Words were just … words.
“Think I found something—” Bridget said from the south wall.
Leera and Augum rushed over to what appeared to be a large bronze diagram.
He blew some dust off, revealing a complex network of symbols. “This must be it! Can anyone read it?”
Bridget bit her lip. “This is way beyond what I know.”
Leera’s face lit up. “Wait—the book!”
“What book?” Augum asked.
“The big blue book—you know, the one Mrs. Stone asked me to bring—? It was an encyclopedia on the arcane arts!”
“That’s exactly what we need!” he said. “Let’s get it. Come on—”
Cheered by their change in fortune, the trio rushed to the spiral staircase, raced up the steps, through the foyer, and up the grand marble stairs, finally shooting through the doors of the bedroom.
There was no sign of Mrs. Stone.
Leera rummaged through her rucksack, finding the large volume amidst a bunch of scrolls. She pulled it free and opened the cover. They read the title together with mounting enthusiasm.
“‘On Arcaneology: A Pupil’s Encyclopedia of the Arcane Arts—!’”
“This is just the kind of book we would have used in school,” Bridget said. “Except it’s older and … far grander.”
The trio’s smiles faded as a life flashed before Augum’s mind, a life of school, friends, family, an entire village learning together—all lost. He knew they were thinking the same thing. The three of them stared at the book with fallen faces.
Bridget abruptly placed her hand on the cover. “I solemnly swear, on the ghosts of my mother, father and brothers, that I will learn the arcane tongue. Their deaths will not have been in vain.” She said it boldly, eyes closed, tears running down her cheeks.
Leera looked at her, sniffed, and placed her hand over Bridget’s. “I swear, on the ghosts of beloved Mum and Dad, that I will master the arcane tongue. Their deaths will not have been in vain.”
At last, Augum slowly placed his hand over theirs. “I solemnly swear, on the ghosts of my mother, Sir Westwood, and on those that my father has slain, that I will learn the arcane tongue. Their deaths will not have been in vain.”
For a time they kept their hands in place, letting the meaning of the moment cement, binding them as friends forever.
Augum thought he was starting to understand what Mrs. Stone meant regarding the importance of their friendship. Together they will push each other to learn their craft. Together they will overcome their sorrows.
They solemnly picked up the book, looking at each other anew, now part of an alliance sworn to learn and grow strong against the Legion.
The Blue Book
The trio made their way back down, Leera reverently holding the arcaneology book in her hands, Augum and Bridget lighting the way with their palms. They soon faced the bronze diagram again.
“Let’s see here,” Leera said, opening the cover.
Bridget eyed the pages as Leera flipped them. “Must be over two thousand pages here; and the writing’s so small … Try the table of contents.”
“How do they make copies of these books?” Augum asked.
Bridget waved absently. “Oh, it’s done arcanely. They make lots of copies that way. It’s still expensive though.”
Leera riffled to the table of contents. It was enormous. There was a chapter devoted to every form of arcane use, from Speaking the Arcane Tongue: A Syllabic and Semantic Introduction, to Final Applications and Theories of Advanced and Complex Arcane Use.
Augum shook his head. “This thing’s a lifetime study.”
Leera snorted. “Whatever gave you that idea, Aug?”
His heart skipped a beat. Shortening each other’s names was something friends did. No one had ever shortened his name before.
Aug … he could get used to that.
“Wait, there it is—” Bridget said, shooting a finger to a line titled Common Arcane Runes and Cantrips for Servant Use—page 341.
They hurriedly flipped to the page, scanning the tiny scrawl for anything about heating.
Bridget read the headings. “‘Classic Cleaning Cantrips; Cleaning Large Areas Quickly; Dusting Cantrips; Finding Lost Cleaning Supplies; Food Preparation Cantrips; Gardening Cantrips’ … Nope, skip this part. See if there’s a section on servant runes or something like that.”
Leera riffled forward. “Here we go: ‘Common Household Servant Runes.’” She then began reading the titles of paragraphs. “‘Bathwater Runes; Cleaning Fluid Runes; Door Runes; Escalator Runes; Garbage Runes; Hallway Runes … Heating Runes!’ This has to be it.”
“What’s it say?” Augum asked, leaning in with Bridget, the light from their two hands combining to give the words a blue-green glow.
Leera read aloud.
“‘An arcanely heated home is somewhat uncommon, mostly due to the initial expense of hiring a warlock who has mastered the 13th degree. Heating symbols are often found by doorways and can be invoked by all servants given they hold basic house permissions. The servant must speak the arcane word associated with the symbol followed by a number, also spoken in the arcane tongue.
“‘A home will typically have a plaque illustrating to the servant an allowa
ble range of heating. A small domicile will have a fireplace or perhaps one symbol, but a larger domicile can have many symbols, one for each room. Additionally, it may have a control symbol for the entire home. In the latter case, the servant is instructed to search for the appropriate symbol in the servants’ quarters—the kitchen (particularly near the ovens), or sometimes in the cellar. The heating symbol for a single room is typically a box within which there appears a single flame, followed by anywhere from a single dot (meaning a choice between basic heating or no heating), to ten dots (meaning the servant can speak arcanely the numbers one through ten for more precise variations in temperature). The heating symbol for an entire domicile is a box with three flames inside it.’”
Leera took an exasperated breath before continuing. “‘The runeword typically associated with the symbol for a single room is net suo. Care must be taken pronouncing the letters U and O shortly. The runeword typically associated with the symbol for an entire domicile is net sukio. Care must be taken pronouncing the letters U, I and O shortly.
“‘For arcane number pronunciation please see chapter 1. A note on servant etiquette: only the most lavish of estates can typically afford more than three dots.’”
Leera finished the last part rather fast and leaned back. “Well that was fun. Hope one of you got all that, because my job was to read it.” She handed the heavy book over to Augum, who extinguished his palm to receive it. She then stretched and yawned while he and Bridget skimmed the long-winded passage over again.
“To think the entire book is like this,” he mumbled.
“… ‘and can be invoked by all servants given they hold basic house permissions,’” Bridget slowly reread. “I wonder about that. Will we have permission, and if not us … maybe Mrs. Stone—?”
He glanced upward. “Surely Mrs. Stone …”
“Look for a box with three flames inside, Lee.”
Leera nodded, relit her palm, and started scanning the diagram. It was crammed with what looked like hundreds of runic symbols, from the very simple to the very complex. “Found it—!” She stabbed a finger at a square symbol near the bottom center of the diagram.
