by Sever Bronny
“I know Tiberra is to the east … and Canterra to the south—”
“—and Sierra to the south of Canterra,” Bridget added.
“And north of Solia what is?” Oba asked.
Leera winced. “Mountains?”
“Northern Peaks belong Ohm kingdom, home of mountain monks and Seers!”
“Oh, right.”
“Solians arrogant. Think Solia center of world, when it tiny north kingdom. Abrandia only kingdom more tiny, far west of Solia. Nodia is kingdom of four tribes, watching over Sunburnt Plains, southeast to Solia, and twice size. Moonclaw. Jadefire. Wolfhowl. Oba Sassone is Warblade.” He gave a bullish snort. “Now begin training we will. Oba’s time you will not waste. We start two degree spell Shield.”
Augum stole a sidelong glance at Sydo, who was working on Telekinesis with Thomas. The prince was trying to get a rock to jump to his hand. All that royalty around him all his life and he was still bumbling around with the most basic spell. Then he remembered his own futile attempts at making a rock move while Mrs. Stone watched and felt a creep of shame.
“Augum Stone—waste time with idle thoughts you will not. Concentrate you will!”
“Yes sir, sorry sir—”
“Augum Stone, your sword you will draw.”
Now he’d done it. He hesitantly drew Burden’s Edge. The blade began lightly crackling.
“Oba you will attack.”
Augum glanced to Leera, then Bridget.
“Them not—Oba!”
Augum raised Burden’s Edge and half-heartedly swung at Oba, who did not move, letting the blade hit the ground, making it painfully obvious Augum had not intended to strike true.
“No! When Nodian invites attack, dishonor him you will not with weakness! Again you will try!”
Augum, forehead prickling with sweat, swung his sword with all his might.
Oba lazily raised his arm and a moss-covered wooden shield appeared, deflecting the blow before disappearing. He nodded for Augum to step back in line.
“Many years warlocks fight. Before scions, before Founding, warlocks fight. Fight they will long still. Old spell Shield is. Block arrows, sword, spear, arcane attack. Difficult spell to master. Size, shape, texture you learn control.” Oba stepped away from the group and turned to Thomas, who patiently stood watching Sydo reach out to a rock that would not come. “Thomas Stone—fireball.”
Thomas turned as if expecting to do this very thing, arm bursting to life with flaming rings. He moved as if throwing a rock at Oba, instead hurling a massive fireball that hissed through the air.
Oba only had a moment to raise both hands in a defensive gesture, summoning a large green shield of interwoven wet leaves and sticks, stretching from his feet to his head. The fireball smashed against it, expanding with explosive force. The flames licked around the edges, torching the grass. It evaporated quickly, Oba’s shield along with it. The grass continued burning as Oba paced back to the group, breathing a little quicker.
“Sometimes two hands need you will. Art, Shield spell is. Remember Oba’s shield—Oba use water to fight fire. Adapt you must or die. Learn this you will.”
Bridget raised her hand. “Sir, is there an arcane word for this spell?”
“Non-verbal, this spell. Oba now teach.”
For the next while, Oba explained how to conjure the shield. They were to use their left forearms as their right hands were to be free for spell casting or sword wielding. Augum found the method similar to the repair spell, especially the part about imagining the final shape, texture, and size—except it had to be cast reflexively, which made the spell far more difficult.
“Childlings ready to cast Shield?” Oba asked after one last example.
They nodded. The Leyan sauntered over to the oaks and picked up a stick. When he came back, his opaque eyes fell upon Augum, who barely had time to raise his forearm to block the stick from smashing his head. It crunched into his arm with a sickening crack. Augum cried out involuntarily and fell to his knees, gripping his throbbing forearm. Bridget and Leera gasped as Sydo peeked from behind Thomas.
“No. Again,” Oba said, shooing Bridget and Leera off.
Augum bit his lip and stood up. He felt his anger rising.
“Augum Stone concentrate.”
SMACK!
Augum fell to the ground again, trying not to utter a sound, the sting travelling up his arm and radiating throughout his body.
Bridget helped him stand. “Sir, this isn’t right, this isn’t how we train at school—”
“Bridget Burns next. Prepare she will.”
Bridget and Leera threw pleading looks at Thomas.
“Anna requested the ancient way of training,” Thomas said. “It is the way of suffering, but rapid advancement. Anna believes it may save your lives.” He turned back to the prince, who strained to keep watching.
The trio exchanged resigned looks.
SMACK!
Bridget now fell to the ground, clutching her forearm. Leera and Augum immediately helped her stand.
“No! You no coddle. Let sting. You Solians weak. You not know pain. Not know sacrifice. Hide too much behind metal skin. Lesson you will learn. Leera Jones. Prepare.”
Leera stood up, breathing heavily, fists clenched.
SMACK!
Leera fell, writhing in pain. This time when Bridget came to her aid, Oba whacked her hand with the stick. She sprang backwards with a cry, the stick pointed at her face.
“No coddle or Oba give Nodian smile.” He made a slicing gesture across his throat with a finger. “Understand?”
Bridget nodded quickly.
“I’m all right,” Leera said through gritted teeth. “I’m all right. Let me … let me try again.”
Oba surveyed her with those eyes. His metallic muscles flexed.
SMACK!
Leera cried out and once again fell to the ground, clutching her forearm, groaning.
Oba grunted and turned to Augum.
“Wait—!” Leera said, climbing to her feet, tears of pain streaming down her freckled cheeks. “Again.”
Oba’s hairless brows rose up his shiny forehead. He surveyed her a moment before the stick rose into the air. This time Leera gave a kind of war cry as a small round shield of pond leaves coalesced on her forearm. The stick smashed into it. She fell to the ground from the force of the blow, the shield gone as quick as it had appeared.
“Leera, you did it—!” Augum said, resisting the urge to help her stand.
A panting Leera stared defiantly at Oba.
“Good teacher pain is,” Oba said, extending his hand to her. She took it. “Ancient learning way this is. When war come, many need train fast. Harsh it feel to soft Solians. From birth Nodians feel sting.”
From that moment on, they did a little better. It was still painful, but by suppertime, Bridget managed to cast Shield twice, Leera four times. Augum had the most trouble. He just couldn’t figure out how to harden his shield. He had successfully spawned a tiny one from lightning, but it didn’t stopped the stick.
Oba had only shaken his head, saying, “Imagination you have not, Augum Stone.”
The group finally sat down to supper, exhausted and bruised. The table was once again full of a wide assortment of colorful fruits and vegetables, but Augum was in too much pain to care.“Mya Liaxh,” Thomas said, “after supper, you will apply what you have learned. Balm of Sable.”
Mya nodded gravely. “Of course, m’lord.”
Leera glanced over at Augum’s forearm with a look of worry. He tried to cover it with his sleeve but it was too tender for the scratchy burgundy.
“You’re going to have to think of a way to harden your shield,” she whispered. “It’ll have to be something lightning related though—it’s not like you can use rock or wood or anything like that.”
He shrugged. “I’ll think of something …”
The prince’s eyes fell upon Bridget’s bruised arm. He opened his mouth to say something but froze.
Instead, he turned to Thomas. “Sir, is this appropriate, this method of teaching?”
“All things have purpose, Sydo Ridian.”
“But surely the Leyan way cannot allow such … barbarity.”
Oba cocked his great head at Sydo. “I am Oba Sassone of Warblade. We no need pampered princes. We no need kings. We no need false priests. We have Grand Raven. We have War Chief. We have elder council. We have Nanukin, God of the Hunt; Konkorra, God of War; Anwama, Goddess of love. We no need high degree. Nodian childlings learn pain young. Learn sacrifice young. You weak and cowardly. You not know true strength. Coddled you are. Need much pain to learn. Need sacrifice. ”
Sydo reddened. His eyes travelled to the two curved blades as he swallowed.
“Oba Sassone has been Leyan for over ten years,” Thomas said. “He is a young Leyan, as am I, relatively. Learning is a lifelong path. Some Leyans live over a millennium. We young Leyans listen to the knowledge of the old. Oba Sassone was a Nodian warrior before his invitation to Ley. He is a Nodian warrior still.”
Bridget gave Sydo a sympathetic smile before filling her wooden bowl with green ginger, burgundy carrots, and pink banana. The others joined her and they ate in silence. Thomas and Oba merely observed, hardly moving.
After supper, Prince Sydo continued his training with Thomas, while Mya bade Augum, Bridget and Leera to wait for her as she ran to the forest, jet hair dancing. She soon returned with a woven grass bag full of herbs, leaves and bark. She pulled out a stone mortar and pestle, splashed a little water in along with an orange mushroom, a leaf and some bark, and ground the contents into a paste. After finishing the Balm of Sable, her almond-shaped eyes searched the trio. “All right, my young lords and ladies—who is first?”
Augum stuck out his arm a little too quickly, cuffing Leera on the side of the head. “Sorry,” he mumbled, ignoring the look she gave him.
Mya took hold of Augum’s black and blue arm and applied the cool balm. He hoped she couldn’t feel his pulse racing.
“Um, thanks,” he said when she finished. She gave a radiant smile before moving on to Leera, who still glared at Augum with narrowed eyes.
Oba grunted. “Leave injuries alone to heal, Nodians do. Proud of scars we are.”
Augum felt the scars on his back he had received from Mr. Penderson prickle. He had never shown them to anyone, nor could he imagine feeling proud to do so. He would never reveal them if he could help it.
Mya soon finished with Leera and Bridget, departing with a kind smile. Augum watched her go with a twinge. He was hoping to strike up a conversation, but couldn’t find anything meaningful to say.
“Until sleep, training we continue,” Oba said.
“Have you finally thought of what you’re going to make your Shield out of?” Leera asked out of the side of her mouth as they walked to the clearing.
Augum silently cursed himself. “No, I forgot about that …”
“What about solid lightning or something?”
“Solid lightning? How does that even work?”
“I don’t know. I know it’s a stretch, but—” at that moment Oba Sassone turned around and began a harsh lecture on the importance of having a sturdy shield, which seemed primarily directed at Augum.
“… and so begin we will with Augum Stone,” Oba finished, raising the stick.
Of course we will. Augum gritted his teeth and planted his feet.
SMACK!
He found himself on the ground yet again, writhing.
“No! Imagination you have not, Augum Stone. Again!”
Since he was out of ideas, he decided to try Leera’s suggestion. As the stick rose into the air, he mustered every ounce of concentration, picturing a woven bolt of hard lightning curled in on itself much like a rope. He felt something tingle in his left arm just before the stick smashed against curled black lightning, looking a little like dirty ice.
The girls immediately threw up a cheer. Oba only gave a nod. Augum flashed Leera a grateful smile.
They took turns like this until thoroughly exhausted, but at least mildly proficient with the spell. As much as it hurt, Augum had to admit the big Leyan was right—pain was a good motivator. There was no way they would have learned so quickly otherwise.
After lessons and a snack, in the darkening evening, he and the others collapsed onto their clay and moss beds, nauseous, heads pounding, arms sore. Thomas extinguished the braziers with a flick of his wrist, leaving only a thin band of dull light shining on the horizon, highlighting the tops of the oaks purple.
Augum stared up at the swiftly moving clouds. He gathered the moss blanket around him. In Solia, it would have been pitch-black long ago, except maybe for star or moon light. He lay there a long time as the others slept, thinking about what a strange place this was, when he heard a distant THWOMP.
“Welcome, Anna,” Thomas said. Augum could not see them in the darkness, and could just barely hear what they were saying.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
“This is Oba Sassone. He breaks the Vow with me. I brought him to train the childlings in the ancient way.”
“Greetings, Anna Stone.”
“Greetings to you, Oba, and I am grateful for your help. How do they fare?”
“Struggle they do. Soft they are.”
“I expected as much. Time is short and I fear the old way is the only way. Yet it is nothing to what they will feel should they ever get captured.” She sighed. “Forgive me but I am weary, it has been a trying day. I have managed to find and seal the remaining portals, but I left the one to Castle Arinthian. I hesitate to destroy the last remaining connection to Ley until absolutely necessary.” She sighed. “The sky seems to have worsened since I left. What say the elders?”
“We have not discussed the matter or sought council yet,” Thomas replied.
“The Dreadnoughts have woken,” Mrs. Stone said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Augum wondered how she found this stuff out.
“It is as I feared,” she continued. “Lividius has successfully revived Atrius Arinthian. Our grandson’s necromantic powers grow. As for the Dreadnoughts, he will use them to outfit his army. His quest for the scions will plunge the entire world into war.”
“The scions are a means to an end, Anna.”
“They are indeed. He promises eternal life to his subjects, though his true motivations are somewhat of a mystery to me.”
“This we Leyans have encountered before.”
“Yes—Occulus, but he was not aided by scions. I fear kingdoms will fall to the burning sword of his ambitions, and perhaps even join the Legion as the living dead.”
“Are our grandson’s necromantic powers that great?”
“Not yet …”
“Permit this Nodia will not.”
“All things change, Oba Sassone,” Thomas said. “Kingdoms rise and fall, people come and go, knowledge passes. That is the way of it.”
“But how many must die needlessly?” Mrs. Stone asked. “I have given much thought to your earlier words, and I am not convinced handing over the scion is the way. I request to convene the millennials. I must hear the wisdom of the elders.”
“Convene council a mortal cannot.”
“This is true, but I daresay Thomas can.”
“The council has not convened in some time, Anna.”
“This is no trivial matter. It is of dire importance.”
A silence passed. “I will think on it with the wind, Wife, and return an answer in the morning light.”
“So be it.” Mrs. Stone shuffled to bed while Augum lay awake, ruminating over what had been said.
The Millennials
First thing in the morning, Augum whispered to Bridget and Leera all he had overheard from the night before.
“She must fear torture or something if we’re captured,” Bridget said.
“But we don’t know anything,” Leera said.
“Maybe.” Bridget turned to Augum. “You think the council will be conve
ned?”
“Based on what I heard, yes.”
“He’s her husband after all,” Leera added.
“He’s also Leyan,” Bridget said. “They’re subject to their own wisdom. Come on, let’s eat.”
Everyone else was already sitting by the time the trio joined the table. As Augum took his place, he glanced skyward. The weather seemed to have worsened overnight, now a churning maelstrom of black and red clouds. As thick as the grove was, braziers, robes, and hair fluttered in winds that broke through the sentinel of oaks. Was it just a storm, or was something happening?
Breakfast dragged on without a word about the elders. Augum didn’t want to ask because he felt it inappropriate he had overheard their conversation in the first place. At its conclusion, Mrs. Stone glanced to Thomas.
“Let it be so,” he only said.
She stood up and cleared her throat. “At midday today we shall convene with the millennials. Until then, you are to train.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused.
She glanced skyward as everyone stood, her wrinkles deepening.
“Why is the sky like that, Nana?”
“A question I shall pose to the elders. Come, you are in need of training. I fear dark times ahead.”
Augum, Bridget and Leera glanced at each other before following.
“Thomas has spoken of your previous lessons,” Mrs. Stone went on as they joined her husband in the windy clearing. “Consider yourselves very lucky. Centarro is a difficult and rare 3rd degree spell. Not even I know it. I trust you will do your utmost to learn it.”
Augum shared a grin with Leera—3rd degree, off-the-books, and not even Mrs. Stone knew it.
“We will, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget replied with a polite nod.
“This morning you will continue practicing Centarro with Thomas, while Oba Sassone trains with the prince and Mya.”
“But I also wish to practice Centarro,” the prince said in a voice tinged with petulance.
“Solian prince want his feathered pillow. Maybe Oba tie him to statue.”
Sydo glanced over to his frozen effigy and blanched.
Thomas’ black eyes fell upon the prince. “Our greatest fight is always with ourselves, Sydo Ridian. It is our choices that make us who we are, that determine our fate.”
