by Sever Bronny
He looked up to see the witch’s mark—a triangle carved into the rock, each point accented with a dot. Soldiers were streaming at him from all sides, almost at the scaffolding now.
In one fluid motion, he snatched a stone at his feet, lit up his palm, held up the tooth against the mark, and smashed it.
Hangman’s Rock rippled to life like the surface of water, swallowing the shattered remains of the dragon tooth. For a moment he was afraid it would pull him in. A shadowy, stooped figure emerged just on the other side of that watery wall, emanating a horrible sensation of malice.
Meanwhile, gauntleted hands reached in through the scaffolding.
Damn, what was the wording for the wish? Quick, think of something, anything! “Tell Anna Atticus Stone that they’re coming for her and that we’re at Hang—”
Suddenly he was tackled from the side, the impact slamming his head against a wooden beam. As he lay crumpled beneath a black-armored Legionnaire, he heard a hissing whisper in his mind. Even as the walls of consciousness closed in, he willed himself to remember the words.
“Your bidding I shall do. A price I shall exact.”
The Price
Augum was awoken suddenly by freezing water hurled into his face. He began shivering immediately.
“Wake up, you disloyal traitorous swine—” said a vaguely familiar voice.
He groaned, head pounding with such ferocity he dared not open his eyes. His arms, manacled above his head, throbbed. Every part of him felt drained, every muscle sore.
He heard the sound of a bucket being placed on the ground.
“Fetch the commander, the brat’s finally awake,” said the voice. Feet rushed and tent flaps parted.
He tried placing that voice, but with every beat of his heart, a fresh spasm of pain shot through his head, smashing concentration.
“Augum, are you all r—”
The sound of a slap and a quick yelp.
“Shut it, missy. The commander does the talking.”
Your bidding I shall do. A price I shall exact. That’s what the crone said to him. And just as expected, she had drained his arcane stamina so much his head wanted to explode. But had Nana received his message? Would she evade his father’s trap? Above all, were his friends all right? How could things have gone so wrong?
It was that cursed Robin …
Augum sensed many people in the room, yet no one spoke. Manacles clanked. The pad of light feet mingled with the subtle crunch of hay as a person adjusted their weight from foot to foot. A particular tension was in the air, a tension he remembered experiencing once before …
Someone with heavy boots entered the tent. Augum steeled himself before attempting to open his eyes, yet just the slightest glimpse of light made him cry out.
“He cries like a baby torn from its mother’s grip.”
Augum felt a cold wave wash over him. He knew that voice all too well—would never forget that voice, forever imprinted in that iron room.
“Justinius, send word to my apprentice.”
“Yes, Commander.”
There was the squeak of leather as the Blade of Sorrows crouched before Augum, cloak chain jingling against his chest plate.
“You seem to be injured here.” The Blade of Sorrows squeezed Augum’s head. A white-hot pain forced him to scream in agony.
A girl cried out, only to be silenced by a slap.
Tridian let go and pain ebbed away. “Oh, but that was merely a whisper. You are being sensitive, my boy, the fun has not even begun. You know, I was a little disappointed to have caught you so quickly. It was all … too easy. I was really hoping to drag this out.”
Augum felt a strong kick to his gut. His eyes opened involuntarily and the white-hot pain returned. It was so intense he didn’t even have time to scream.
Sometime later, he was revived by another sudden splash of frigid water to his face. His whole body seemed to pulse in spasm after rolling spasm. His arms tingled numb above his head. There was the sound of whimpering nearby.
“How far the rat has fallen,” Robin said.
Augum, gasping from the cold shock, could visualize the bastard’s grin.
“Do not let them know your thoughts, Apprentice,” Tridian said in a bored voice.
“Yes, Commander.”
Augum knew what was coming—another questioning. What did they want this time?
Robin crouched before him. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
Augum ignored him.
“I said—”
“—never repeat yourself,” the Blade of Sorrows interrupted. “It makes you appear weak. Instead, make the subject regret his impudence.”
Augum heard Robin smile, an exhalation of breath as if he had discovered a new toy.
“Justinius, fill up the bucket.”
“As you wish, Honored Necrophyte.”.
Robin paced across from him. “Haylee, look at me. Did you enjoy our talk earlier?” He snorted a laugh. “I suppose there wasn’t much talking, was there? Did you miss me? Sure you did. I missed you too. But don’t worry, we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Just like the old days, eh, Hayles?
“Damn you …”
“What did you say to me?” He repeatedly slapped her face, the sounds accented by girlish yelps.
“Don’t you ever give me lip.”
“Good, Apprentice, very good,” the Blade of Sorrows said. “You must always assert your dominance as the superior.”
“Thank you, Commander. Now, Hayles, I want you to know something—how that rat over there answers my questions will affect the outcome of your trial. Do you understand? Nod if you do. Good, that’s a good girl.”
Robin paced over to Augum, forcing Augum’s head up by squeezing his jaw. “Look at me.”
Augum refused. The pain of it would be too great and the trial was a farce anyway.
Justinius re-entered the tent with a slopping bucket.
Robin let go of Augum’s chin with a pinching twist. “Hmm, which one shall we douse? Let’s see here …” He began pacing, stopping before each of the candidates. “No, not her, she’s got a special surprise awaiting her when our great lord returns. And not her, she’s too ugly … Let’s make it this one, she could use some cooling. Soak the dog.”
There was a splash and a girl gasped for breath. Augum felt his skin rise. It was Bridget!
“You damned bastard—” he blurted.
There was a marked silence for a moment. “Oh, such a dirty mouth,” Robin said with dramatic flair, as if acting in a play. He crouched.
Augum, who was familiar with the sound of an arm rearing back, flinched just enough to deflect the majority of the blow. Nonetheless, he felt his cheek swell.
“Look at me.”
Augum felt the taste of salty iron on his tongue and spat it forward, hoping to hit Robin’s face. There was an angry cry and a whirlwind of cheap blows.
“Apprentice,” Tridian said in a silky voice.
Robin stopped, panting.
“Try not to let yourself be manipulated so easily.”
Augum, barely conscious, was also panting. Nonetheless, he managed to smirk. His aim had been true.
“You’ll pay for that,” Robin said.
Robin roughly grabbed his chin. “This is what you’re going to do—you’re going to open your eyes, or that dog of a friend over there is going to get soaked again.”
Augum couldn’t let that happen. In this cold, another dousing could prove fatal. Yet he hesitated long enough to hear the slop of the bucket.
“All right!” he called just in time to stay Justinius’ hand. He steeled himself and forced his eyes open. The light was a thousand daggers at his brain. He instantly closed them, writhing and screaming in agony.
“Stop it— don’t you see he can’t do it!” Leera cried.
Robin stood up. “Did I give you permission to speak, you nasty girl?” and casually kicked her, sending laughter through the soldiers.
Leera groaned.<
br />
“Stupid Leer.” He kicked her again.
“Why don’t you pick on me,” Augum spat. “You coward.”
Robin ignored him and kicked Leera once more. There was more scattered laughter as she moaned. Then he kicked her yet again. She barely yelped, and this time no one laughed. A silence befell the tent as there were uneasy stirrings.
“Leera?” Augum asked, wanting to throw up. “Leera, you all right—?”
“Good, Apprentice. You are learning well. Leave it there, lest you cause too much injury. Save that for true intransigence. Now you may begin asking the real questions.”
Robin paced back over to Augum. This time he didn’t crouch. “Yes, I do believe him ready, ready like … like …”
“Roasted rabbit,” Tridian finished for him. There was a titter from the soldiers.
“Shut up, you common peasant rabble!” Robin said, but the chuckling went on for a little bit.
“You will make a fine commander one day, Apprentice, but there is much for you to learn on how to lead men.”
“Yes, Commander. You there, what are you laughing at!”
Suddenly Leera screamed.
“There, that’ll teach you, you filthy rat.”
Augum knew Leera hadn’t laughed. It took every ounce of restraint not to hurl the vilest curses he had ever heard.
Robin crouched before him again. “I’ll only ask you one time. If you fail to tell us the truth, I’m going to consider that, um, ‘true intransigence’, and you can say goodbye to that gutterborn wench, the Leer. So … who lit the fire?”
Augum knew he was cornered. He had to answer, yet he couldn’t give up Mr. Goss and Leland. “It was Mr. Bawdings.”
“Who now?”
“Mr. Hedrick Bawdings, the merchant.”
“You mean the very same fat oaf that’s been lying dead in the woods gathering snowfall? That Mr. Bawdings?”
“Very good, Apprentice, very good,” Commander Tridian said, clapping. “Now, how are you going to punish him for such blatant treachery, such … intransigence?”
Robin stepped back and drew a blade.
“No, please—” Leera suddenly made terrified muffled sounds as if her mouth was covered. Her feet kicked at the straw ground.
Augum struggled with his manacles. “Don’t you even think about it, you—”
“What? What were you going to call me? Say it.”
Leera let loose a blood-curdling scream even through Robin’s hand.
“Robin, stop it!” Haylee shouted. “For the love of all that was good between us, stop it, please …”
Robin stepped back, Leera whimpering at his feet. “Hey, it was only a scratch. Wait, what am I hearing here? So now you’re best friends with these disgusting gutterborns?”
Haylee just wept.
“That’s right, cry your bleeding little heart out! And you better beg for me to take you back. Beg!”
“I’ll never be by your side again, ever!” she said through sobs.
Robin just stood there a moment. “Wait, I know how this happened—” He dropped before Augum, leaned in, and whispered into his ear. “You took her away from me. For that, I will take them all away from you. I promise you that. Your father only needs you, he doesn’t need them.” He gave Augum a poke with the blade.
Augum gritted his teeth, breathing hard, trying to restrain himself. His manacles shook as he struggled, though it could have been the shivering.
“A little too eager, my young apprentice,” Commander Tridian said as the crowd rustled nervously. “Never threaten the ultimate for such trivial matters. That you save for the big questions.”
Robin stood up and sheathed his dagger. “Yes, Commander, I … I forget myself sometimes …”
“Don’t … tell him … anything, Aug—” Leera said between gasps.
“Are you all right, did he hurt you?” Augum blurted.
“You’ll never learn, will you? Justinius.”
Leera gasped as she received another soaking, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
“Hey, you should be thankful, I washed your wound. Oh, and douse her too while you’re at it.”
Haylee began breathing rapidly.
“Shut up, Traitor,” Robin said. “I never really liked you, I only said that because I felt sorry for you.”
Another splash and Haylee screamed, immediately descending into fits of shivering.
“M’lord—”
Augum’s heart quickened at the sound of Mya’s soft voice. He wondered how long she had been there in the tent. Strangely, he felt embarrassed.
“What do you want, servant?”
“M’lord, they will not survive long in such a state. Will you allow me to dry them and place a blanket around their shoulders?” Her voice sounded so sweet and so kind that it hurt Augum to hear it. It was a sharp pain inside his heart, overcoming the one in his head. He imagined those emerald almond eyes trained on him, filled with pity and caring.
Robin snorted. “Stupid peasant. I should have you flayed raw for your impudence.” He strolled over to Augum, tossing a cloth in his face. “So if it wasn’t Mr. Bawdings that lit the fire, who was it?”
He couldn’t give up Mr. Goss and Leland. “I don’t know …”
“Liar. Douse everyone, starting with this one.”
Augum barely had time for a breath before freezing water slammed into his face. He coughed and gasped, trying to regain control over his violently shivering body.
It wasn’t long before Justinius returned with another full bucket, throwing frigid water in all the girls’ faces. They shrieked in turn.
“No no, a full one for each of them,” Robin said.
Augum wanted to protest but he was so cold now he actually stopped shivering.
“M’lord, please—”
“Shut up, wench, or I really will have you flayed.” Robin sauntered back to Augum, crouching down before him once again. “Who lit the fire?” he asked quietly, almost kindly.
Suddenly Augum noticed something, or rather the absence of something. The mysterious force that usually coalesced within him, that might have once erupted violently in an electrical explosion, wasn’t there. It was simply gone.
Your bidding I shall do. A price I shall exact.
The realization of what had really happened, the true price the witch had exacted, instantly snuffed any fight he had left. She had taken his ability to cast spells. This he knew in his bones. He slumped, the fight drained out of him.
“Ha, I think I broke him,” Robin said.
“You’ll never break him—” Leera spat.
Robin was swifter than a cobra. There was a sickening pulpy sound and audible gasps. Then silence.
“Leera—?” Augum said through trembling lips, but there was no response.
Robin leaned close. “She is on the brink of life and death now. Whether she lives or dies depends entirely on you. The final question that decides her fate. Who. Lit. The. Damn. Fire?”
Augum raised his head, knowing there was only one way to buy more time. Steeling himself with every ounce of courage he had, he squared his face with Robin’s and opened his eyes wide. He screamed from the pain, holding them open, begging for unconsciousness to take him.
And it swiftly did.
Robin Scarson the Questioner
Augum awoke to a quiet tent, a cloth dabbing at his scalp. A blanket lay draped around his body, his arms still manacled to the post above him, numb and useless. At least the pain in his head had subsided to a dull throb.
Testing his vision, he opened his eyes a slit and saw before him the outline of Mya’s delicate features. He felt a peculiar lightness in his stomach. She seemed unaware of him watching her.
Candles perched atop wrought-iron stands flooded the tent with pale yellow light. He guessed it to be the evening of the day of their capture.
Something had happened to him, something bad that he didn’t want to remember. Whatever it was, even the murky idea of it made him wa
nt to leave his body, to fly far, far away …
He began shivering.
“Shh, you’re all right,” Mya said in a voice as gentle as a spring breeze.
He looked into that caring face.
She gave him a troubled smile. “Close your eyes. You were so brave. Please, don’t ever be that brave again.”
Her voice calmed his roiling soul. He allowed his lids to rest, welcoming each tender touch of the cloth.
When she at last stood, he was almost in a trance. She moved on to Leera, who hung from the post beside him, unconscious, arms purple above her head. He noticed her chest rise. She was alive! Oh, thank all that was good, Leera was alive!
Bridget hung on the post beside Leera, asleep. Haylee hung on the post opposite him, Ms. Jenkins on a post beside her. The poor woman looked like she had taken a bath in a pool of blood. He wondered how the battle had conspired to capture her—was it the wraith, or one of the soldiers that overtook her?
Whatever happened, it didn’t matter much. They had allowed themselves to be captured. Had Nana received his message? Why wasn’t she here already if she had? Yet the witch exacted her price, so she must have received it.
To test the theory, he tried concentrating on a nearby pebble, hoping to draw it forth using Telekinesis.
The pebble didn’t even wobble.
Maybe it was because his arms were tied above his head.
“Shyneo,” he said, barely having the strength to look up at his purple arms.
Nothing, not even a spark.
Mya turned in his direction. “Augum, you must be very quiet or—”
The tent flap suddenly opened. He had the good sense to pretend he was still unconscious.
“Haven’t you been attending to them enough, wench?” Robin asked.
“I only do as the commander bids me, m’lord.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he intended you to nurse them all night. Go and clean my tent. The peasant fool that it belonged to was a filthy pig.” He laughed. “Must be related to you or something.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
Augum listened to her hurried steps fade. How he wished the plan hadn’t failed. If only he’d been smarter, wiser, stronger …
