by Sever Bronny
Augum noted its awkward steps, judging the best place to strike would be low on the shins. Leera, meanwhile, veered away to the right. He gave cover by raising his arms to attract the skeleton’s attention. He absorbed every nuance—how it placed its feet; the sound of the bones grinding together much like his ribs; the sturdy feel of the slat in his grip; and the rapid beat of his own heart.
As the skeleton drew close, reaching for his throat, he ducked and deftly swung the slat at one of its shins. It smashed through the bone, breaking the skeletons’ leg. He rolled forward, just in time to see Leera smack the skeleton on the back of its head. Pieces of skull flew in slow motion as the thing tumbled, veering towards the horses. Spirit neighed and rose up on hind quarters. The skeleton fell right underneath as the palfrey slammed its hooves on its ribcage, trampling it to pieces.
The trio threw up a shout of victory, embracing each other in a warm hug.
A few moments later the spell waned, and Augum felt a cloud descend upon his thinking. He was vaguely aware of Bridget placing a blanket around his shoulders, though he was still so cold he had an urge to get away and get warm. In some reptilian recess of his brain, he equated descent with warmth. He was barely aware that Bridget chased after Leera, who seemed to be doing the opposite—trying to go outside.
He let the blanket slip from his shoulders, stumbled through the black oaken door, and fumbled down the steps. With a complacent smile on his face, he followed the simple curved wall. The warmth increased and so he continued, forgetting the world above and his place in it. His fingers stroked the roughly hewn stone, guiding him further and further down into pitch darkness …
It wasn’t long until his mind started to sharpen and focus. The dull side effects, like clouds clearing to let the sun shine through, waned and then disappeared altogether.
He froze, the hairs on his neck standing on end.
Where in Sithesia was he? His movements caused an echo that reverberated like in a cavern. The silence seemed to ebb and flow hypnotically. Something was before him, some kind of vast space. He felt its maw open invitingly, like a beast anxious for prey.
Was it alive? Was something there? Best not cast Shine. As his senses sharpened further, he realized there was a pattern to the sound of the darkness—a low, rhythmic heaviness to it, almost like …
Breathing!
Erika
After much hesitation, Augum finally scrounged the courage to move. Ever so slowly, he retreated up the spiral steps, back hugging the stone. He let the tower guide him in reverse, the sound of breathing fading … fading …
Bridget snatched his arm the moment he slipped through the door, making him jump. “Augum Stone, where did you go! I was so worried—”
“Shh! There’s something down there. I heard it breathing …”
She took a hesitant step into the dark passage but he grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t. Trust me on this one.”
She paled, nodded. “Of course.” Then she smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “But you gave me the worst fright. Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I’m sorry, it was the side effects—”
“You didn’t prepare enough for them!” She looked to Leera, who huddled in three blankets looking very frozen and very guilty. “And neither did you!”
Bridget marched to grab some more blankets. She angrily threw him one and wrapped the other one around her shoulders. “I’m going up,” and strode through the black door without another word.
Leera tried not to smile. “So you went down to the cellar, eh?”
“Yup. You?”
“Drank snow. Thought it was warm milk.”
He couldn’t help but snort a laugh before extending his hand. “Let’s catch up to her.”
“Yeah, before she gets even madder.”
They lit their palms and quickly caught up to Bridget, who pointedly ignored them as she crept up the steps. Together they prowled past the burned-out level and on to the room the skeleton had come from.
Leera squeezed past a gaping Bridget. “What in the—it’s like some sort of round royal bedroom …”
There was a blue velvet canopy bedstead in the middle, a banded trunk at its foot. A pair of ornate dressers stood side-by-side against the right wall, four bookcases against the left. A curved desk rested underneath a deep window opposite. Iron braziers sat on stands and an iron wheel chandelier hung from a high ceiling.
It reminded Augum of Castle Arinthian. It was odd to see a room so well decorated and unstained by time in a tower where the lock to the front gate had long rusted over. Nonetheless, the trio began searching it immediately. Bridget went for the bookshelves, filled with old tomes and crystals, Leera for the two dressers, and Augum for the trunk—only to discover it locked. A moment later, there was a zapping sound.
“OUCH!” Bridget had sprung back. “The books shocked me!”
“And I can’t get these drawers to open—” Leera said, straining.
“And this trunk is locked,” Augum added, seeing a pattern emerge. “Looks like whoever used to live here really didn’t like people snooping.”
“But I want to snoop,” Leera whined.
Bridget extinguished her palm. “I’m going to try Unconceal.”
Leera kicked the trunk. “Why don’t the both of you try, I’ll light for you.”
Augum snuffed his palm. “Sure,” and after a few moments of concentration, “Un vun deo.” He scanned about with his open palm, hoping to feel that very subtle pull. After some time, still feeling nothing, his concentration broke and the spell failed. The same happened with Bridget.
“Nothing,” he said.
Bridget began pacing. “This doesn’t make sense …” Suddenly she stopped. “I think I know why, Mrs. Stone said it herself …”
Leera frowned. “Said what?”
“That Unconceal won’t help you find stuff that’s been arcanely hidden!”
“Oh. Right.”
Bridget turned back to the shelves, tapping her lips with a finger. “For that, we’d need to know the Reveal spell …”
“Might as well keep exploring then,” Augum said. “Shyneo.” His palm crackled to life and he made his way over to the desk.
Leera let herself fall onto the bed, sighing, while Bridget mumbled to herself, poring over the bookshelves with her eyes. Meanwhile, he tried the drawers on the desk, all to no avail. Lacking anything better to do, he dropped to his knees and searched underneath the desk. His hand closed around something cold and thin. When he drew it out, he could scarcely believe his eyes.
“A key—!” Leera said. “But … how? You tried Unconceal!”
He raised a brow and gave a smart expression. “My powers are constantly growing.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Please, it probably just fell under the desk. Remember, Mrs. Stone said the intent had to be there to hide something, and if it was arcanely hidden you probably wouldn’t just come across it like that.”
Leera sat up. “You know he was joking, right?”
Bridget turned a shade of pink. “Of course.”
He saw his chance. “Look, I’m sorry for being such an oaf earlier.” He winced. “So … think you can stop snapping at me?”
“Oh, that’s some apology, how big of you.” She snatched the key from his hand and stomped to the trunk. He appealed to Leera with a questioning look but she only shook her head, mouthing, “Nice one.”
He scampered after Bridget. “Wait, I really—” but the words stuck in his throat after spotting what Bridget had found inside the trunk—a pumpkin-sized crystal globe on a tasseled pillow.
Leera saw their slack expressions and rushed over. “What. Is. That?”
“Probably some type of arcane orb,” Bridget said.
He chuckled. “Oh, it’s not a children’s ball?”
She gave him a look and just scowled.
Leera shook her head, making a digging gesture.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, wo
ndering how many times he had apologized today.
“I bet Mrs. Stone would know what it does,” Leera said, reaching for the orb.
Bridget grabbed her arm. “Better not. You know, just in case …”
All three of them leaned in and peered closer.
He squinted. “Ever get the feeling that you’re being—”
Suddenly a giant blue eye opened within the orb. The trio screamed, slammed the lid shut, and scurried back.
Leera drew her blankets closer. “All right, who was that?”
“Maybe the person whose place this is,” Bridget whispered.
“Well, whoever it was knows we’re here now,” Augum said, realizing they couldn’t leave even if they wanted to as the storm would kill them.
Sure enough, there was a loud THWOMP, and before them materialized a woman in red robes fringed with black fur. She looked middle-aged, had pale skin, a large crooked nose, and a face caked with too much makeup. Curly auburn hair spiraled past an elaborate crystal necklace.
Upon laying eyes on them, she crossed her arms and snorted. “You’re just kids—!” Large pearl earrings jingled with each bob of her head.
“Uh, hi,” Leera said. “Who are you?”
“Erika, and this happens to be my tower the three of you rabble are trying to loot. And who might you be, freckles?”
“We’re not trying to loot anything—” Leera said, before suddenly sneezing. She curled the blankets around her more. “We’re only trying to find a way to make a fire and get warm.”
“Oh, you want to burn the place down too, is that it, sweetie?”
“No, I mean—”
“Relax, freckles, I’m only kidding.” She gave them a saucy look and waved a languid hand. “The Unnameables know someone already tried.” She paced to the braziers, lighting each one with a flick of her wrist.
The trio immediately crowded around one, warming themselves.
Erika placed her hands on her hips. “Like pigs in mud. So, how did you manage to open the chest, my little darlings?”
Augum rubbed his hands above the fire. “I found the key underneath your desk.”
“So that’s where it went—” she sauntered over and stuck out her palm, raising an arched brow. Bridget dutifully handed over the key. Augum got a whiff of some noxious flowery perfume.
“Thank you, missy, and you really shouldn’t snoop around people’s things.”
Bridget stiffened. “We weren’t snooping. This tower isn’t even yours, you moved in just like a squatter.”
Erika ground her jaw, marched over, and slapped Bridget—hard. Augum and Leera stood in shock. Bridget gasped, placed a shaking hand to her cheek, and looked away.
Erika’s voice was a quiet hiss. “How dare you compare me to a common squatter, you little derelict. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of, so shut your mouth and don’t be rude.” She straightened. “Now do the right thing and apologize to me.”
Bridget stood there a moment and made to leave, but Erika grabbed her by the elbow and twisted her around. “Apologize. Now!”
“Don’t you touch her—” Augum said, reaching for Erika’s arm just as it exploded with ten rings of fire.
“I’m sorry—” Bridget said quickly.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear child. Speak up.”
“I’m sorry!”
Erika let go of Bridget and extinguished her arm. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it, sugar?” Her voice was light and sweet. She yanked a cloth from a pocket and wiped her hands, giving Bridget a mirthless smile. She then strutted over to her desk, muttering some arcane word. A drawer popped open and she dropped the key inside, removing a silver hand mirror. She made an idle gesture and the drawer shut.
“What’s with kids these days anyway?” she asked no one in particular, turning back to them. “No respect at all. Even the way they talk is improper and offensive.”
Augum and Leera exchanged the same look. This woman was nuts.
“I bet you’re from the academy. Runaways by the look of your rags, though if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear those were traditional apprentice robes under all that dirt.” She shook her head. “Filthy, icky children …” She began inspecting her makeup in the mirror, paying particular attention to her nose. Her ice blue eyes flicked over to them now and then, as if to make sure they weren’t getting any ideas.
“Definitely apprentice robes. Haven’t seen them in some time. Damn ugly, if you ask me.”
Leera put an arm around Bridget, who kept her eyes averted, hands shaking over the brazier. Augum was trying to think of how to respond, since he didn’t want to let on exactly who they were and where they were going. The woman was obviously a strong warlock, so they had to be very careful.
Erika lowered the mirror, tapping it idly against her thigh. “So how many stripes then, hmm? You are aware revealing your degree is a point of honor amongst us warlocks, are you not?” They only stared. “How about showing a bit of gratitude then, hmm? I could have easily kicked you out into that storm.” Leera opened her mouth to say something but Erika blithely carried on. “I’d guess you have a maximum of two rings, for if you had three, you would have known about the skeleton door trap.”
“We each have one stripe,” Augum said, figuring it was best to say something truthful. He lit up his arm with his hard-earned degree.
“Lightning—impressive, though you probably won’t make your second ring, kiddo, notoriously dangerous element and all that. Yet it has come to symbolize much, hasn’t it? What with the Lord of the Legion being a lightning warlock and all—” she said it without the slightest hint of irony, signifying to him she had no idea he was Sparkstone’s son.
Erika drummed the dresser with her fingers, earrings jingling away, stopping only to sing, “And I bet that—” (more drumming with her fingers) “—you are running—” (a final fast tapping flourish) “—from the Legion!” she belted out the last words as if announcing a prize they had won. “I really should have been a singer,” she muttered to herself, adjusting her robes.
Augum glanced at Leera, unsure how to reply. Bridget kept her head down, avoiding everybody. He decided to take a risk. “And what if we were, would you help us?”
Erika gave a coy smile. “Why should I, what’s in it for me? Hmm? It’s no easy thing evading the Legion nowadays.”
“You’re a fugitive too—?”
“Why of course I am, child! I am a fugitive though, not some … squatter.” She flashed Bridget a repugnant look.
He nodded, trying to play along. “So … why are you a fugitive?”
“Well, sweetie, if there’s one thing I despise, it’s filth, and the Legion is full of it. Why, as we speak, they have kids your age raising the dead, or at least trying to.” Erika made a face as if she smelled dung in the room.
Augum immediately thought of Robin.
“Anyhow, it’s just so gruesome, if you get my meaning.”
“Um, so … about your cellar—”
“—so when I told the local commander,” Erika continued on, ignoring him, “oh, who was it now, Commander Rims or something? Anyway, when I politely told him I wasn’t interested in mentoring some of his witless soldiers, ah, he didn’t exactly take it too well.” Earrings jingled along to the bobbing of her pasty head. “Yup, I was banished. On the run since. Now look at me, in some ancient tower trying to live decently, though truth be told, I’m better off than many of my noble friends are, put to work doing …” she curled her fingers and frowned, “things of a ghastly nature.”
A moment of dramatic silence passed. “So what about you, kiddies, what’s your story?”
Augum looked to Leera and cleared his throat, trying to come up with one. “Well, we were—”
Erika fake-yawned. “You know what? I don’t actually give a damn about a bunch of runaways or orphans or whatever gutterborn scum you happen to be, not unless you have a fortune of gold coin hidden amongst those mangy mules you ha
ve down there.”
“Well, uh, no, we don’t …”
“Wait a moment. Are those Dramask—?” Erika marched forward in such a way the trio instinctively recoiled. Her brows arched. “Really now? You can relax, darlings, I’m not your headmistress.” She snatched one of the blankets off Leera, who opened her mouth to protest. For once, Augum had to elbow her, masking the noise by clearing his throat.
“What’s that, dear—?” Erika asked absently, studying the blue and green striped blanket.
“Oh, I was just about to say that, uh … that I agree, uh, that these are Dramsuck blankets.”
Erika gave him a look like he was an idiot. “Dramask, honey, and yes, they are indeed. A shame the Legion plans to storm into Tiberra. Dramask is the jewel of the northeast, a truly beautiful city. Puts Blackhaven to shame many times over, let me tell you. Where did you say you got these?”
He was about to reply when she waved her hand. “Never mind already, I don’t frankly care. Do you have one with red stripes?”
“Um … we’ll have to go check.”
“ ‘We’? What do you mean, ‘we’, kiddo? I haven’t had company here in …” she waved absently then frowned. “Well, all right, I’ve never had company here really. No one to enjoy my fine china, no one to taste my exquisite cooking, and no one to sit at my glorious ebony dining table. Do you realize how difficult it was importing and getting all this stuff in here with nobody but little old me to do all the arcane dirty work? A lady should never have to lift her own table. Not even arcanely.”
“Uh …”
“Exactly—so don’t even think about running off, or I’ll set my pet on you. I expect courtesy from the lot of you rabble kids. We’re going to have a proper, civil supper.”
“Your pet …?” So there was something in that cellar …
“You’re quite the daft one aren’t you? Cute, but daft, and I don’t have time for daftness. Get me the red blanket and come right back. I’m keeping the missies here. They can help me prepare the feast. We’re going upstairs, mind you, so be sure to go through the next door up. Run along now, boy, go, shoo …” she waved her fingers as if chasing away a dirty stray dog.
