by Sever Bronny
Augum recalled the body in the snow. “There was … there was something in the woods—”
Mr. Goss held up a hand, swallowing. “Please do not continue. I … I shall think of him as I saw him last—garrulously drunk with a smile on his face.” He hung the pot over the fire and went to prepare mugs.
“We found her though,” Augum said. “The healer, Ms. Jenkins. She’s up above casting protective spells.”
“Ah, I am pleased to hear some good tidings. And Haylee? Is she helping Ms. Jenkins?”
Augum took a seat at the table. “Uh, she was captured.”
Mr. Goss stopped what he was doing. “Captured?”
Suddenly Augum felt terribly guilty. “She … she saved us, Mr. Goss. She stopped the wraith from killing us. Then … then she went in Mr. Bawdings’ place, but somehow they knew. The camp knew about her through some sort of orb, so—”
“So they kept her,” Mr. Goss finished in a quiet voice. “That unfortunate, poor, brave girl …”
A knock came at the trap door. Mr. Goss jumped. “That must be Ms. Jenkins,” and climbed the steps. “Ah, Ms. Jenkins, I am so pleased to see you in this grim time.” He took her hand and helped her down the rest of the clay steps.
“And you, my dear Albert,” Ms. Jenkins said, smiling perfunctorily, eyes darting about. “I’m afraid I can only stay but a moment. The Legion are on their way. I placed protective enchantments over the floor above. They should get you through tonight, unless you run into some bad luck that is.”
She means Corrigus, Augum thought.
“I suppose you’ve heard the news about Miss Tennyson?” Ms. Jenkins continued.
Mr. Goss’ face grew serious. “Haylee … yes.”
“It’s most unfortunate, but I’ll do what I can, Albert. I promise you that.”
“I am most relieved to hear it. Tea?”
“Maybe just a quick sip while I work.” She waddled over to Bridget. “How is your little boy?” she asked absent-mindedly while placing her palm on Bridget’s stomach. She closed her eyes as her hand began glowing.
“Oh, yes, he is doing very well, Ms. Jenkins, very well. All thanks to you of course. He is asleep now, shall I wake him?”
One of Ms. Jenkins’ brows rose as she completed her arcane examination at Bridget’s neck. “I’d very much like to continue his treatment, Albert, but due to its length, I’m afraid it will have to wait for another day.”
“Yes, of course, time is precious,” Mr. Goss replied, wiping his hands and retrieving the pot, which was now boiling. He poured them all steaming ginger tea, pushing a mug onto Ms. Jenkins.
She took one sip and put her mug down. “I need all of you to stand back and stay very quiet. She has a difficult double injury of the back and neck that will require the entirety of my concentration.” She gave them a grave look. “I must warn you that should the spell fail, she’ll probably never recover.”
Augum and Leera exchanged horrified looks. This was not part of the plan. He, and apparently Leera also, hadn’t realized there was a chance of spell failure. Seeing Leland should have given him pause, though—the arcane healing element wasn’t perfect and carried the same risks as any other element.
Ms. Jenkins took a series of long deep breaths and closed her eyes. Finally, she placed a pudgy hand on Bridget’s forehead and started reciting a complex healing spell, taking special care with pronunciation. Her hand began glowing brightly, eventually consuming her entire body in white brilliance. The glow reached a blinding intensity before fading, leaving a burned-in visual image of the scene in Augum’s brain.
Ms. Jenkins, huffing and holding her head as if in pain, stumbled about for a seat. Mr. Goss immediately came to her aid, helping her sit down in the rocking chair by the fire, hurriedly retrieving her mug of tea. She grasped it with shaking fingers.
Meanwhile, Augum and Leera rushed over to Bridget’s side. Her eyes were open yet she lay as still as ever. Augum’s stomach filled with dread. It hadn’t worked …
Suddenly Bridget’s little pinky finger moved.
Leera gasped. “You can do it, Bridge, come on!” and they cheered her on, movement by movement, until she lifted an arm and even smiled. Leera and Augum hugged each other tightly; then delicately hugged Bridget until she gurgled for them to stop; then hugged Mr. Goss; and finally a weary Ms. Jenkins.
“I should go now,” Ms. Jenkins said, rising.
“Ms. Jenkins, wait—” Leera said.
Ms. Jenkins paused at the foot of the steps. “Yes, dear?”
“It’s Augum’s ribs, they’re broken—”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he began, not wanting to make a fuss.
“Ms. Jenkins’ brows rose. “Come here, child, let me have a look.”
He dutifully paced over. Ms. Jenkins’ face grew serious as she felt his ribs. He recoiled as bones grated.
“This is no time to be squeamish, my dear,” she said, continuing her prodding. “Now hold still.” Her hand began glowing, the light spreading to his chest. He felt a soothing sensation that went from cold to warm. When her hand extinguished, she had to take a seat at the steps.
Mr. Goss immediately rushed over with a mug of fresh tea. “Now I must insist you rest a while, Ms. Jenkins. Please.” He helped her raise the mug to her lips.
Augum felt his ribs—the pain was gone, all of it! He had gotten so used to it, a stubborn old thorn, and now it was gone! He felt terribly selfish for letting her drain her energies on him. “It doesn’t feel like enough, but … thank you.”
She glanced at him weakly. “You’re … welcome,” and beckoned Mr. Goss to help her stand.
“Please, Ms. Jenkins, your tea at the very least—”
“Too dangerous,” and she departed into the night, trailed by a grateful group that followed her all the way up the steps, expressing their thanks and wishing her all the luck in the world.
Mr. Goss shut the trap door and pulled on the carpet rope while Augum and Leera rushed back to Bridget to cheer her on as she worked her way from laying to sitting, and finally to a standing position. When she stood up at last, they threw up a cheer and embraced her in a long hug.
“I hate to be a rainy cloud,” Mr. Goss began, “but we should try to be quiet in case the Legion do come.”
“Yes, Mr. Goss,” Augum and Leera chorused. They sat down beside Bridget to whisper the details of their adventure, mercifully leaving out the tension with Haylee. Then they began peppering her with questions.
“What did it feel like?”
“Do you remember everything?”
“Was there any pain?”
“It was frustrating, yes,” Bridget finally said, smiling, “but you’ll learn about it tomorrow. You two look exhausted. Get some sleep already. I’ll take watch with the orb.”
Too tired to argue, they spread out blankets and pillows and fell asleep near the fire.
Ancient Verse
Augum awoke to the sound of a sizzling pan. Still drowsy, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, wondering what time of day it was.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Bridget said with a smile, hands on her hips. “The Legion came last night and you two slept through it all. Watched the whole thing through the orb. Scary, but exciting.”
“They did?” he muttered groggily. “Why didn’t you wake us?”
“At the end of last night, the two of you could barely see straight. Wasn’t going to wake you unless I had to. Legion left after a while anyway. Ms. Jenkins’ enchantments worked—they hadn’t found anything.”
It was an immense relief, even the morning after, to know that Bridget was no longer paralyzed, though he couldn’t help but wonder how Mya and Haylee were faring.
Mya … he hadn’t thought of her in a while. Somehow, the sting had subsided a little. He glanced to Leera, still wrapped in a pile of blankets. Bridget prodded the mound with her foot. Leera covered her head with a blanket and groaned.
Leland groped his way over and gave Bridget a hug, moaning.
“I’m glad I’m all right too,” Bridget replied. She then whispered something into his bandaged ear. He squeaked in reply and quietly felt his way over to Leera, immediately pouncing on her.
“Dark hell, what’s happening—!” she shouted while everyone snickered.
“Now mind your language, young lady,” Augum said in an authoritative voice.
Leera, realizing who it was, enveloped Leland in a blanket hug. “And now I’m going to eat you …!” she said in a mock evil voice, and made gobbling sounds as she gently ruffled Leland up. He squealed in obvious glee, eventually managing to escape and scurry off to his room by feeling the walls.
Augum began folding up the blankets. “Nice bed-head.”
“Shut up, you.” Leera made a poor attempt at hiding her grin while trying to smooth her hair.
Bridget, who had been watching them like a long-lost loving sister, gave a wistful sigh. “I missed you two …”
“I miss having a comb,” Leera mumbled.
“If I may—” Mr. Goss disappeared into his bedroom, returning with a simple hairbrush. “As you can see, I have little hair to use it on,” he said with a chortle. He hesitated though, lovingly staring at the brush, before catching himself and handing it over.
Leera gave him a pained smile.
“So how did it feel to be unable to move?” Augum asked.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Ugh—that’s the thing, I didn’t actually feel anything, so it really wasn’t any fun, especially at first. It was okay after a while, but I became very bored and, if you can believe it, kind of restless. The best part was when you studied the Slam spell with me—I actually learned something! That was about as exciting as it got for me, the rest of the time I saw nothing but ceiling. I was pretty scared that was going to be my view forever.”
“Guess we should’ve pointed you at the fire or something,” Augum said.
“Or given me the pearl so I could practice with it. I bet I could have used it even though I was paralyzed.”
Leera turned pink. “Oops—that would’ve been smart.” She motioned between herself and Augum. “That’s the kind of genius friends you have.”
Mr. Goss removed a large frying pan from the fire. “Well, we are very glad you are all right again, Bridget.” He began plating breakfast. “Almost ready here …”
The trio helped set the table and sat down as Mr. Goss called on Leland, who found his way back making a silly moan, which Augum interpreted as a giggle. He was starting to differentiate the various noises the boy made.
Bridget recounted the events of the evening over breakfast. Augum and Leera learned that twenty black-armored soldiers swept into the village while they were asleep, led by Commander Canes, something that was not news to them but had been a surprise to Bridget.
“—and you’ll never believe it, but the traitor found the Orb of Orion—” Bridget said, though her tone of voice told them it was a funny story and not to worry. “One of his lackeys used the Unconceal spell, but, get this—” she stabbed at the air with her fork, “he didn’t know what the orb was! I watched as brute after Legion brute tried dislodging it. Thankfully, when you two placed it in the snow, you locked it too.”
“Wait, I don’t understand something,” Leera said. “Why didn’t that Legion warlock find us with his Unconceal spell?”
“Well, in order to find someone who’s been arcanely hidden, you need to know Reveal, which is an 11th degree spell—”
“—so whoever searched wasn’t past their 10th degree,” Augum concluded.
“Exactly.”
“It was very stormy by the end and they were all tired. Left soon after. Canes was very angry though, saying how he was going to put Haylee to the question for their failure to find us.”
Augum had a vision of Haylee in an iron room with the Blade of Sorrows and Robin, crying as her family was dragged in …”
“—oh, and I heard them inform the Blade of Sorrows and his company, so a whole bunch of them are riding north,” Bridget added.
Augum felt queasy. He put down his fork and leaned back in the chair.
Bridget fixed him with a concerned look. “You all right?”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “We should go soon, now that you’re well again.”
“We still need to find a way to reach Mrs. Stone before Sparkstone does,” Leera said. “If he hasn’t gotten to her already …”
This dampened the mood considerably and they ate on in silence. Augum pondered how long a way it was to the northern peaks. They lacked horses and proper supplies. As far as battling the cold, all they had were blankets, and that wouldn’t do for this kind of journey. If they had only been able to teleport to Antioc, they would have stood a chance of keeping pace with his father …
It wasn’t a total disaster to be back in Sparrow’s Perch, however—he and Bridget were now fully healed and they had a chance to see Leland again. All they needed to do was find Mrs. Stone. Suddenly an idea occurred to him.
“Wait—what about using a speaking orb?”
Bridget began taking everyone’s empty plate. “For what?”
He quickly filled her in on what Ms. Jenkins said, about how these orbs were supposed to be very rare, that most of the Legion commanders had one, and that they communicated to each other with them.
“I’m not following you though,” Leera said. “How could we communicate with Mrs. Stone when neither she nor us have one?”
Bridget’s eyes lit up. “Wait a moment—we kind of do have a speaking orb—we can hear through the Orb of Orion, and others can hear us! And didn’t Erika say that it was a speaking orb, only better?”
Leera threw her hands up. “Yeah, okay, but I still don’t see what you’re getting at. Let me repeat myself—Mrs. Stone. Does. Not. Have. A. Speaking. Orb.”
Bridget sighed as she took the plates to the washstand. “But what if we found someone further up to communicate with, someone closer to Mrs. Stone?”
“Wait, wait, wait …” Augum interrupted. “Ms. Jenkins also said that the orbs have to be tuned together.”
Leera crossed her arms with a firm nod. “That’s right!”
Mr. Goss chuckled to himself. “I have not heard so much talk of arcanery since Annie and I showed up at the academy to enroll Leland …”
The trio smiled awkwardly. Mr. Goss looked around at them with pride, face glowing. Augum felt awful knowing they had to leave him and his poor son behind in this town full of lonely memories.
“On the subject of these speaking orbs—” Mr. Goss went on, removing his spectacles and rubbing his eyes. “I seem to recall—and mind you I may easily be mistaken as I am not very knowledgeable in the arcane arts—that Lord Tennyson had a collection of scrolls in his basement.”
The trio exchanged hopeful looks. Everyone immediately understood the implication—there could be a scroll of teleportation!
“Now mind you, I have tried going down there, but the place burned to the ground, or rather in this case, well below the ground. It is quite treacherous.”
“Mr. Goss, do you mind if we go take a look anyway?” Bridget asked in her most polite tone.
“Well, seeing how dangerous it could be, I would rather you not, but I also understand how much reuniting with Mrs. Stone means to you all. Therefore, I shall not stand in your way. Just promise me that you will be extremely careful.”
The trio nodded vigorously. “We promise.”
They departed as soon as they could.
The day was windy and gray. A blanket of fresh milky snow coated everything, partially obscuring the many Legion footprints.
“It’s over here—” Leera said, leading the way through the burned-out buildings.
“What was this?” Augum asked as they passed a particularly large structure, now a mess of torched planks and cracked tiles.
“It was going to be our new school,” Bridget replied before catching up to Leera.
He stared at the destroyed building, rememberin
g the joyous moment when he found out he’d been admitted to the village school. What might have been had Tennyson not betrayed the village, he thought, before catching up to the girls.
Bridget stood before a quaint home that had completely collapsed in the fire. “This is—this was my home once.” She turned to nod at another not too far from Mr. Goss’. “And that one there was Leera’s.”
“I don’t want to look at it,” Leera said, voice full of bitterness. She moved along, Bridget and Augum in tow.
Soon they stood before a rather large round home, the once majestic pine tree above it now charred and barren. Inside, part of the floor had collapsed, exposing a gaping snow-covered pit. They climbed down, navigating the sharp debris.
“Shyneo,” Augum said, barely noticing his palm crackle to life. He was so used to casting the spell it had become almost subconscious. Leera and Bridget quickly followed suit, lighting up the blackened interior with green and blue light.
He stepped over a large wooden truss that once supported the ceiling.
“Watch your step—” Bridget yelped, grabbing his arm. One of his feet was on a small piece of charred wood that covered a hole.
Leera crouched by the hole and shone her light down it. “There’s another floor below us. Might even be more.”
“Tennyson was a rich man,” Bridget said. “Hired a high-degree earth-element warlock to excavate the clay. Wouldn’t dare to have my lowly father do it for him—what would the Scarsons think?”
“Runs in the damn family,” Leera added.
Augum picked up the remains of a very fine boot. “If Tennyson was the one that tipped off the Legion, why didn’t they save all his stuff?”
Bridget examined a charred bookshelf. “I get the feeling he didn’t realize they were going to raze the village. Maybe he thought he would be allowed to stay, have the village to himself or something.”
They turned things over, perused piles of charred furniture, and examined anything that had half-survived the fire, of which there was precious little, and certainly nothing of use. Navigating the scorched detritus proved difficult, and the further the trio went, the more they feared the structure would collapse. It creaked and groaned as if pleading to be put out of its misery, the wooden floors threatening to give way any moment. It quickly became apparent Mr. Goss’ warning about the place was no overstatement.
