by Sever Bronny
He awoke on the ground, unaware of having even fallen asleep.
Mrs. Stone stood near, holding a shivering Bridget by the elbow. “I daresay you have been gripped by the song, girl. Sit.”
Bridget, pale and shivering, did not respond. Mrs. Stone’s lips pressed together and she gently pushed her into a sitting position beside Augum. Then she unslung her sack, withdrawing vaguely familiar fruits, vegetables, and a skin of water. No one reached out for them or even so much as blinked.
“I see. It is as I feared.” She removed something from her robes and soon a smaller globe was floating alongside the larger, this one flashing with silent lightning. Augum began to feel better. Meanwhile, Mrs. Stone placed what looked like purple pears into their listless hands.
Augum glanced up at his great-grandmother. She made a motion akin to eating. He stared at the strange fruit before biting into it. Mrs. Stone nodded and moved on to the others. Augum felt better still as he ate, though his thoughts remained as murky as the sky.
When they had all finished eating and drinking, Mrs. Stone sat amongst them, the two mismatching globes floating lazily around her, unhampered by the wind. Augum struggled with his thoughts until finally, in what must have been the thick of night, he felt himself conscious enough to ask a question.
“Nana, what … what happened?”
Mrs. Stone, who seemed to have been dozing, startled awake. “Hmm? Ah, yes … I fear I am to blame—I was gone too long and, without the protective influence of the scion, you succumbed to the Song of the Wastes.”
“The Song …?”
“An ancient enchantment meant to turn invading armies against each other, implemented in the time of Occulus. The effect seems to have become rather strong, however, and the weather—well, last I visited, let us say it was quite peaceful.”
“You’ve been here before, Mrs. Stone—?” Bridget asked in a groggy tone.
Mrs. Stone sighed. “Yes, a long time ago. But enough of that. Is everyone feeling well enough to walk?” They gave unsure nods. ”Good. Let us go on then. We shall rest soon enough.”
One by one they stood, readying to depart—except for Mya, who gaped into the darkness with half-closed eyes.
Mrs. Stone shuffled over to her and waved a hand before her face. “Bridget, Augum—drag her if you must. I want everyone to walk alongside me and watch each other. No one is to drift off on their own, am I understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, grabbing one of Mya’s hands. Augum grabbed the other, distinctly conscious of wrapping his fingers around hers. If this moment were to be his last, he would not mind in the least. He looked up at her, trying to draw her back to them with a look of empathy, willing her to understand how much he cared about her … but she did not meet his eyes, dazedly letting herself be guided along.
Augum caught an annoyed look from Leera. Was he walking too slowly again? He quickened his pace a little.
Mrs. Stone held stride, keeping a close eye, globe lighting the way. After what felt like hours of ambling, she abruptly stopped, peering ahead into the darkness. At the edge of her light stood a hairless man dressed in nothing but sandals and baggy black pants that rippled violently in the wind. He possessed a square jaw, bald head, and a bronze muscle-sculpted upper body. His eyes were what captured Augum’s attention though—solid black, blacker than coal, blacker than the night. Unnameable gods, they had run across a demon and he was going to—
“I think it’s a Leyan,” Bridget whispered.
Mrs. Stone took a step forward. “Thomas.”
“Anna,” the man replied in a deep voice that cut through the wind. “You have returned.”
“For the time being.”
“You have aged, my wife.”
Everyone but Mya exchanged looks. Augum felt goosebumps rise on his skin. His great-grandfather was a Leyan! But how could this be? The man looked nothing more than thirty years of age!
“The teachings can still reverse the course of time on the flesh, Anna,” Thomas continued. “You have not accepted the invitation as of yet.”
“My duties to the mortal world bind me there. Forgive me, but I must condemn you to this loneliness still.”
“I have the company of the sand, the wind, the clouds.”
Mrs. Stone stared at him a moment before giving a pained smile. “You still return to the same spot.”
“It is as good as any other.”
“It took some time to find it again. My memory is not as it once was.”
Augum looked around. There was nothing to distinguish this place from any other.
“All things pass,” Thomas said.
“So they do indeed …”
Thomas’ unblinking ebony eyes seemed to focus on the hovering scion. It flickered with silent lightning, emitting that quiet hum.
“Yes, I still have it.” Mrs. Stone hid it within her robes. The hum immediately died.
Watching it disappear, Augum suddenly felt himself grow very tired, as if all the hours of sleeplessness had finally taken their toll. He really wanted to lie down.
“This is your great-grandson, Augum Stone.”
Augum stared at his strange great-grandfather. His grip on Mya’s hand tightened.
Thomas only stood there, letting the wind flow over his body like water over rock, his face expressionless. “My great-grandson.”
A windy silence passed before Mrs. Stone spoke again. “I bring grave tidings from Solia. Our grandson, Lividius, has become the Lord of the Legion. He calls himself Sparkstone now and seeks the seven scions. Also, I fear, he treads the necromantic path. His ambition knows no bounds.”
“It is as it is, and cannot be otherwise.”
Mrs. Stone took a deep breath. “The ancient song of the wastes has affected the young.”
“As per its nature—the childlings are uninvited.”
“Yes, well, I could hardly have left them behind now, could I?” Mrs. Stone adjusted her robe. “Forgive me. I do not recall the song being so potent. Even I do not feel quite myself.”
“You have always come bearing the scion, though it is true the song has changed of late. I do not know why, I simply, along with the others, stand to witness change.”
“And the skies?”
“There is much debate amongst us on this matter.”
“I see. The young need sanctuary.”
“Very well.” Thomas swept over them with his night eyes. “I shall break the Vow for you, Anna. I will build sanctuary and make light for the uninvited.” His right arm flared to life with bands of fire and the ground started shaking. Clay beds rose from the dirt around them, with moss growing into pillows and blankets. When the rumbling stopped, he made a simple gesture to the beds. Everybody but Mrs. Stone chose one and lay down, while he continued his arcanery.
As Augum struggled to keep his eyes open, trees rose from the ground, making a large protective grove. The last thing he saw before sleep overtook him was his great-grandfather, arm burning bright, raising an earthen table the color of rust.
A Vote of Life and Death
Augum awoke to the rustling of leaves and creaking of trunks, feeling as if he had slept for a month. Somewhere out of view, his great-grandmother spoke to her husband in low tones.
He paid no attention. It was snugly warm under the moss blanket, from where he watched orange-tinged clouds race by, until his great-grandmother’s head swam into view.
“Breakfast, Augum.”
He smiled for the first time since arriving in Ley. “Yes, Nana.” He sat up, stretched, yawned, and glanced about.
They were in a grass clearing surrounded by twisting oaks. Braziers burned on simple pedestals. Moss beds lay strewn about. Earthen stone benches sandwiched an earthen table, on top of which were an assortment of Leyan fruits and vegetables in rough wooden bowls.
The others stirred in their beds. When Augum saw Mya, she smiled. He felt his face grow hot and turned away.
Bridget prodded her mossy pillow.
“I thought this was all a dream.”
Mrs. Stone strolled to the table. “Thomas has placed a sanctuary enchantment on this grove. You should feel completely normal by now, and if not, I promise you will after breakfast.”
Prince Sydo moseyed up to Thomas and inspected him. “You have an unusual quality to your skin. And I remember … that you are Mrs. Stone’s husband, is that not so?”
“It is so, Sydo Ridian.” He stood calm, hands idly by his sides, eyes unfathomable.
“Are you a Leyan?”
“A Leyan I am.”
“Yet you know the element of fire. I saw you build all this … I saw your arm.”
“It is as you have observed.”
“How many stripes do you have?”
“That is quite enough, young prince,” Mrs. Stone said. “Please join us at the table.”
The prince hesitated, made a face, and took a seat opposite Mrs. Stone. Bridget, Leera and Augum took a seat to her left, Mya and Thomas to her right.
Mrs. Stone gestured to the food. “Well it won’t eat itself now, will it?”
All hands but those of the Leyan reached forward.
“That was a very strange night,” Leera said, inspecting red fruit in the shape of a star.
Mya’s cheeks reddened. “I apologize for being so—”
“—it’s all right,” Augum said a little too quickly. Bridget and Leera snickered into their hands while he shrank.
“No apologies necessary, young lady,” Mrs. Stone said, glancing over at her husband. “My word, Thomas, time has certainly dulled your tongue.”
“Time is meaningless. The moment is real.”
Mrs. Stone grunted, pulling out a black apple from a bowl.
“Mrs. Stone,” Bridget began, cheeks pink, “if you’ll forgive me, but, how did you and Mr. Stone meet?”
“That was a very long time ago now, young lady. It happened back when we were in the academy together—and yes, even I was a schoolgirl once.”
The girls, including Mya, exchanged warm looks.
Mrs. Stone looked off into a brazier and smiled to herself before clearing her throat and dabbing at her lips with a cloth. “But I shall not bore you with tales.” She turned to her husband, ignoring the dramatized groans from the girls. “Where are the others?”
“They stand observing change.”
“Has change observed them?”
“All things change.”
Mrs. Stone nodded slowly.
“Thomas—err—Mr. Stone,” Augum said, unable to resist the question any longer. “Um, how are you so young if you’re my great-grandfather?”
Everyone stopped eating to listen.
“That, Augum Stone, only a Leyan may discover.”
“Has my royal father ever come here?” Prince Sydo asked while Mya peeled a pink banana for him.
“That I do not know.”
“But are you not supposed to know everything?”
“I find I know very little.”
Sydo rolled his eyes as he took the banana from Mya. “So what do you know then?”
“Manners, young prince,” Mrs. Stone said.
Sydo turned away and silently mimicked her.
“Are we going to train here?” Bridget asked.
“For a time,” Mrs. Stone replied. “Thomas will train you while I investigate what is happening to Ley.”
Augum shifted in his seat, barely able to contain his excitement. They were going to train with a real Leyan! To think of all the ancient arcanery the man knew—and how much of it was off-the-books?
“Begging your pardon, m’lord,” Mya began, folding her hands neatly, “I cannot help but wonder what would happen if the Lord of the Legion acquired all seven scions.”
The group quieted down. Augum felt a prickle at the mention of his father.
“Thomas, the vow—”
“—has already been broken, Anna.”
And what was all this vow business about?
“Fifteen-hundred years ago,” Thomas continued, bronze skin shining in the brazier light, “in the time when Leyans mingled with the mortal world, seven scions were forged and distributed to seven warlocks, for the purpose of defeating a necromancer by the name of Occulus.”
Augum exchanged knowing glances with Bridget and Leera. One of those scions was gifted to Atrius Arinthian, his great ancestor and the one who ended up slaying Occulus.
“When Occulus was vanquished, we let mortals keep the scions as gifts. Yet we suspected a day would come when one would covet all, seeking to bathe in frothing shores of never-ending influence. Thus, precautions were taken.”
Mrs. Stone folded her cloth napkin. “Precautions. And what, pray tell, were these precautions?”
Thomas fixed his black eyes on his wife. “Possession of all seven scions results in self-destruction.”
The fire from the braziers fluttered as Mrs. Stone’s face darkened. “Do you mean to tell me, Thomas Stone, that if Lividius finds the other six, I need only give him the seventh to vanquish him?”
“Perhaps. The future is as yet unwritten.”
“Surely there must be another way—”
“That is conceivable.”
“With only two scions, Lividius will most certainly annihilate all of Solia and every kingdom beyond in search of the rest.”
“The path of the river of time is as yet unwritten. We cannot know what is unknowable. That is for the Seers.”
Mrs. Stone stared at her husband, tapping the table with a bony finger. “You have given us much to think on.”
The group ate on in silence. Only Thomas did not eat. The clouds grew dark and the wind picked up, forcing them to bundle in their robes and draw their hoods. The great oaks creaked, leaves rustling softly. Mrs. Stone dabbed at her lip with a cloth, cleared her throat, and stood.
“I am going to leave you all under Thomas’ care for the day. I should return in the evening. I expect all of you,” she eyed the prince in particular, “to behave accordingly.”
The prince smoothed his fiery hair, which did not appear to be cooperating. Augum had the impression Sydo was not coping well without his daily royal bath and flock of servants attending to his every need.
Thomas stood. “Then let it be so. Mya Liaxh, Sydo Ridian, Leera Jones, Bridget Burns, Augum Stone—please follow me.”
Augum wondered how Thomas knew their last names. Had Mrs. Stone told him?
Mya Liaxh. Even her surname was pretty.
Thomas led them to a small clearing apart from the beds and table. As they gathered round, Mrs. Stone vanished with a loud THWOMP. Thomas stood there observing the swaying oaks, pants fluttering in the breeze. He did this for so long that Sydo plopped on the ground and started fiddling with the grass.
“Your Highness, that is unbecoming of you,” Mya said out of the corner of her mouth.
Sydo glared up at her slender frame. “Do not presume to lecture me, servant—I am still your prince!”
Mya curtsied. “As you say, Your Highness.”
“ ‘As you say, Your Highness,’ ” Sydo mocked under his breath. “Gods—listen to her drivel … pathetic.”
Augum was about to say something vicious to Sydo when—
“ ‘Gods—listen to her drivel,’ ” mocked a second Prince Sydo, striding from between the oaks. He was dressed in a similar royal doublet, but finer and in impeccable condition. He had makeup on, as if attended to by the King’s own artist, and his velvet pants were unblemished and without creases. His hair even appeared redder and parted perfectly down the middle. He held his arms behind his back, his twisted expression reserved solely for the real Sydo.
Sydo sprang to his feet. “What dark trickery is this—?”
“What a shame,” the imposter said, shaking his head. “Look at this cheap, royal imitation. I have witnessed rats with better grooming.”
“How dare you—I am not the imposter, you are!”
“ ‘How dare you,’ ” the imposter mimicked, exaggerating
the whine and making a gesture as if crying. Leera snorted, quickly silenced by an elbow from Bridget.
Sydo looked upon Thomas with frantic eyes. “This is not humorous! I demand that you stop this at once!”
Thomas’ face remained a bronze mask.
“Oh, did nobody bother to tell you—?” the imposter continued. “Allow me to speak in simple terms, so even you can understand.” He gesticulated as if talking to a very stupid boy. “You—are—being—re—placed—by—me!”
Sydo blanched. “No …”
“Oh, indeed yes. Why have a filthy, obtuse, overindulged, and inferior prince when you can have a brilliant, witty, funny, and caring one?” The imposter made a graceful gesture at himself. “Oh, and did I mention I am much friendlier too?” He bowed to the group, winking at the real Sydo. “That is quite right, my silly little pretender—if they want, they may have me by their side, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
Sydo shook his head. “This surely must be a … a jest … a farce!”
“I am afraid not, my dear halfwit prince. There is going to be a vote, the most ultimate, final, delicious vote.”
“A vote?” Mya’s face scrunched with worry. Her almond eyes flicked between the princes.
“Quite right—a vote,” the imposter repeated in a whisper. “Think of it—you would never be treated poorly again, but rather with respect and courtesy, as befits your many excellent years of service.”
Mya swallowed while the imposter turned to Leera, whose brows rose.
“And you, dear companion. Could you not imagine someone kind by your side, even helpful, as opposed to a spoiled little brat—?”
Leera took one look at the sorry state the real prince was in, and Augum could just see all those terrible things he had said to her running through her mind. “Well, now that you mention it—”
Bridget gave her a scandalized look before the imposter turned to her.
“And you, dear Bridget—could you not imagine me actually returning your affections instead of throwing them to the dogs?” He took her hand in his and kissed it.
