by Sever Bronny
Robin walked over to him and kicked one of Augum’s feet.
Sharp pain shot up his spine, exploding his brain anew, but he dared not move.
“Damn,” Robin muttered. He patrolled by the others before departing the tent, saying something to the guards outside.
Augum opened one eye to make sure the tent was clear before taking a better look at Leera. Her face was swollen and blue, hair damp and messy. Wrapped around her waist was a Dramask blanket. A blood-soaked linen bandage enveloped her left arm. Was that where Robin had cut her?
“Leera—” he whispered.
She didn’t stir.
“Leera—”
Instead, Haylee moved her head. Her face was pale and puffy, one cheek larger than the other. She gazed at him with wandering eyes that were unable to focus, finally closing them, as if having given up on the endeavor.
“Haylee…?”
She didn’t move.
He stared at the dim light, grateful for the candles—they needed every source of heat to fight the freezing winter. He just hoped they stayed lit long enough for day to come, or for them to get out of there. But how? He was useless without his arcanery.
“Leera …”
She finally stirred, blue lips trembling. When she saw him, her eyes seemed to enlarge, as if seeing something gruesome.
It had to be his head wound. “I’m fine,” he gurgled. Blood had pooled in his mouth again and he hadn’t noticed. “I sent a message with the witch. Let’s hope it works.”
Leera gave a weak smile. She winced before turning her attention to Bridget, who was still unconscious. When Leera turned back to him, she wore an expression of utter defeat.
Then it hit him. The questioning hadn’t stopped when he passed out. It continued until they successfully pried the truth of who lit the fire from one of them …
Oh, no … Mr. Goss, Leland …
Robin re-entered the tent too quickly for Augum to pretend he was unconscious. His pinched face lit up with a smile when the pair of them made eye contact. He casually stuck his hands in the pockets of his necrophyte robe and sauntered over, gazing upon him like a hunter eyeing fallen prey.
“So you’re finally awake. Quite a day the others had. Shame you deserted them like that, but I guess as father liked to say—once a coward always a coward!” and he laughed at his little joke, giving Augum an idle kick.
Augum bit his lip and grimaced as a new spasm of pain shot up his spine.
“Oh, come now, why so glum? It wasn’t your stupid friends who squealed. It was the healer. All it took was threatening her son. You should have seen how quickly she blabbed. Stupid woman. Anyway, the commander rode off to pick up what’s left of that nasty pest and his goody-good father.” Robin sighed. “I heard the kid’s a mess. A ‘miracle he survived’, she said. Sounds like he’s pretty miserable. I’m sure it’ll be a favor to end his pain.”
Augum wrestled violently with his manacles, desperate to get at Robin, but it was completely useless. Robin seemed to enjoy watching his futile struggles.
“Hey, want to see something neat?” He raised his sleeve. It burst with a single fiery band around his wrist. “That’s right, loser, I have my 1st degree. Want to see what I can do with it? Shyneo.” He grabbed Augum’s ankle.
Augum closed his eyes and beared it, trying not to gag from the smell of his own burning flesh. Instead, he focused on the fact Robin was using his extension, a mirror of Augum’s lightning shock.
“I should have never fled with you,” Haylee mumbled.
Robin let go to face her, allowing Augum a chance to catch his breath, ankle stinging.
“Well then you would have gone up in flames like the rest of those maggots.”
Haylee tried to focus on him with wandering eyes.
“You look so stupid right now. Aww, was the judgment not severe enough for you? We could have another trial, send some more of your dumb relatives to war. Maybe that other precious cousin of yours—?”
“You’ve changed, and much for the worse, Robin Scarson.”
“You’re the one who betrayed me! It’s you that’s changed. You’ve grown soft and weak hanging out with these rats. It’s pathetic.”
Haylee didn’t reply as Robin dug something out of his pocket. It was the destiny stone One Eye had gifted him. “But yes, I have changed—I have grown bolder and smarter. Everything seems … easier.”
“You truly are becoming like them. I used to … I used to really like you, Robbie.”
A hurt look passed over Robin’s face before he straightened. He smirked and strolled near. “Not becoming—become. See, what you don’t realize is, I don’t need you anymore, Hayles. I can have anyone, even you if I wanted to. But that’s the thing, I don’t want you anymore. Look at you, you’re ugly and disgusting and a traitor now. What boy would ever want you?”
He posed above her and slowly spat on her, watching her reaction. The spit landed on her cheek and dribbled down her chin. She seemed to glaze over, a faraway look in her eyes. He shrugged, placing the stone back in his pocket.
“Hmm. Anyway, you’re luckier than you know. If it wasn’t for that rich grandfather of yours …” He left the rest unsaid, turning back to Augum. “And you—now that we have you, all that remains is that crone of yours and the scion. Once the Lord of the Legion collects what is rightfully his, the work in Solia will be complete.”
Augum didn’t bother hiding the venom from his voice. “What do you mean, the work in Solia?”
“ ‘What do you mean, the work in Solia?’ ” Robin mimicked in that old way of his, laughing and turning around as if expecting Haylee to laugh along. For a brief moment, his countenance changed with recognition, but he recovered quickly. When his eyes returned to Augum, they were full of loathing.
“I don’t understand how you can be his son. You don’t deserve such an honor. I should have been his son, not you, you stupid little rat. ME!” He finished by jabbing a finger into his own chest, face flushed. After a few moments of breathing hard, he sniffed and adjusted his robe.
“Lord Sparkstone seeks to become emperor of the world. It’s just that simple. He needs all seven scions to do it, and I can promise you, he will possess all seven scions without destruction, he will enter the land of the Ley, and he will recover their powers for his most loyal servants.”
“And someone will stop him—” Augum said. He expected retaliation, but Robin only shook his head, smiling.
“You have no idea, do you? Imagine combining the strength of the scions with necromancy, the might of the Dreadnoughts, and the power of Ley. Lord Sparkstone will surpass even the legendary Occulus. It has hardly begun, yet already the other kingdoms beg and bribe for the Legion not to make war on them. Soon all of Sithesia will be groveling at our feet, calling the Lord of the Legion Emperor, and I will be right there alongside the most powerful warlord the world has ever seen.”
He snorted. “And to think you, the pathetic little rat that you are with your pathetic little piglet friends, are his son—?” He spat on Augum. “You don’t deserve the honor.”
“You can have it. He’s nothing but a bullying murderer, a cheap coward, just like you are—”
A brutal look passed over Robin’s face. “You dare …” He lunged for Augum’s throat, choking with the intent to snuff out his life, eyes flashing with murderous zeal. “Die, you damn gutterborn—”
Augum, with his hands manacled, was unable to defend himself. Choking, legs flailing, his vision began to tunnel. Distantly, a girl shouted for help. A burly guard pulled Robin away just as Augum was on the verge of blacking out, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. Other guards had rushed inside but stood apart, watching with uncertainty.
“Master Robin, you must not run afoul of the Lord Sparkstone’s wishes,” the soldier said. “The great lord wants his son alive.”
Robin struggled in the soldier’s arms with a rabid energy, anxious to finish what he started. At last, he relaxed a little and the
guard let Robin shrug away from his grip. Robin adjusted his robes, gave Haylee a venomous look, and marched out of the tent. After a moment’s stunned silence, the burly Legionnaire gestured to the others and they left.
“Aug, you all right?” Leera asked, vainly tugging at her manacles.
“Just … great …” he croaked, wishing he could rub his raw throat. “When did she … when did Ms. Jenkins tell them … about Leland and Mr. Goss?”
“Early on. Tridian sent a message up to Antioc using a speaking orb. The commander there brought in her son, threatening his life if she didn’t talk. Tridian made her hear the boy’s cries right through the orb. She resisted, but they put a knife to his throat. She cried but told them everything she knew.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” he asked, glancing over at her wretched limp form, legs tangled underneath.
“They’re giving her another chance to serve the Legion, something about not being able to afford to lose any healers, but they’re also going to keep her son hostage.”
He turned his aching head to Haylee, who watched them with tired eyes. Her face was paler than ever.
“They’re going to send one of my cousins to fight the Tiberrans,” she said weakly. “He’s only thirteen. Thirteen, Augum. He is … he is the kindest, sweetest …”
He tactfully looked away as her eyes watered.
Haylee blurted a gurgling laugh, her voice softer and softer. “I deserved it … I deserved it …” She closed her eyes, resting her head back against the post.
“Nobody deserves this,” Leera mumbled, turning to her right. “Bridge, you okay?”
Bridget stirred and groaned. “So … cold …”
“I know, I know,” Leera said, dropping her voice. “Look, do you still have the pearl?”
Bridget nodded. “Think so … can’t reach … lower pocket.”
“Use Telekinesis.”
“I’ll … try …” Bridget focused. It took a while, but the pearl floated free at last, landing in Leera’s lap. She gasped from the effort and rested her head back against the post.
He decided not to tell them about his lack of arcane powers. Not yet, at least. It would only sap their remaining will.
A hollow feeling opened up inside his heart. Would he be able to watch his friends succeed in the arcane ways while he lingered behind? Would they even still be his friends? He wondered if this was what Bridget had been feeling when paralyzed. No, what she felt was much worse—he could still move at least.
“Pay attention, Aug,” Leera whispered before using Telekinesis to guide the pearl up into his awaiting hand. His fingers closed around the engraved object.
“All right,” she said, “they don’t know what the Orb of Orion is. They think it’s just a broken speaking orb. I heard them talking about it outside the tent. Anyway, see what you can find out.”
He nodded, swallowing. He squeezed the pearl, closed his eyes, and made a concerted effort to push away the disheartening fact he would never again cast spells, instead focusing on seeing through the orb, praying that he was still able to do that at least.
Almost instantly, he was watching the inside of a black tent through curved glass. There were two beds. Their rucksack rested on one, contents spilled. Based on the perspective, he guessed the orb sat on a dresser, opposite the entrance, where a Black Guard Legionnaire in full shining armor stood somewhat rigidly, speaking to another soldier dressed in dark trousers and a loose linen shirt.
“No, I haven’t heard any word yet, Sergeant,” said the soldier in the linen shirt. “They should have been back by now though.”
“Think something went wrong, Lieutenant?”
“I doubt it, Commander Tridian is most astute.” He paused. “Nonetheless, are the men on guard?”
“Every single one of them, sir, and we’re expecting Axon Company by morning light. They will bolster our number by another two hundred men.”
“Ah, but Axon is scheduled to meet up with the other companies.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, how many others?”
“Four—Wolfpack, Comborai, Malfease, and Nordika. They’re going to form a new battalion. Then they march on Tiberra from the northwest while the Bastards of Black march from the southwest.”
“Sir, if you’ll excuse me, but, that’s what the general named that battalion—the Bastards of Black?”
“Yes—and don’t ask me why. I heard Axon’s new battalion will be called the Haven Slayers.”
The sergeant cleared his throat. “When do you think we’ll get our marching orders, sir?”
“I imagine soon, depending on Lord Sparkstone’s trap.” The Lieutenant sat down on the empty bed and took off his boots.
“I still cannot believe his own grandmother stole the scion from our lord, sir.”
The lies they feed these soldiers, Augum thought.
“Yes, well, did you know she is the only known living sorcerer to achieve mastery?”
“I did not, sir.”
The two pondered that a moment before the sergeant continued. “How many warlocks do you think the companies have, sir?”
“Not nearly enough, but recruits are being trained in the academy.”
“Are they anything like Commander Tridian’s brat?”
“I would watch that tongue, Sergeant. That necrophyte is honored by Lord Sparkstone himself.”
“I understand, sir. I apologize for any offense—”
The lieutenant waved him off. “Forget it. What we could really use are those Dreadnought blades and armor. Then a company of two hundred could take out a battalion of a thousand.”
“Have you, uh, ever seen a Dreadnought in person … sir?”
“Not yet.”
“Have they at least begun making the equipment?”
“Yes. Our Lord Sparkstone built a secret forge, but reports say the going is very slow.”
“That’s too bad, I was really hoping to get my hands on a Dreadnought battle axe.” The sergeant made a swinging motion with his arms. “I’d call it … Headsmasher.”
“Yes, well, everything in its time, Sergeant, everything in its time …” The lieutenant lay down on the bed, dismissing the sergeant with a wave of his hand.
“Good night, sir.” The sergeant departed, but before Augum returned his focus to the prison tent, he heard the lieutenant mumble, “That boy is a brat though …”
“Learn anything?” Leera whispered when he opened his eyes.
“A bit …” he replied, careful to keep the pearl tightly closed in his fist so the lieutenant didn’t accidentally overhear. “Mostly a bunch of army stuff—company and battalion names; how they’re going to attack Tiberra; that they have a secret Dreadnought forge; oh—and they’re worried about Commander Tridian, he’s late returning.”
Leera crinkled her nose mischievously. “That’s good, maybe something’s happened. I just hope they failed finding Mr. Goss and Leland.”
“Maybe they ran away together …”
One of the guards opened the tent flaps, allowing Mya to enter, her plain red dress billowing slightly with every movement, the mark of the burning sword looking completely out of place on her chest. She carried a small basket of bread and a skin of water.
Augum’s gaze followed her.
Leera watched him and sighed. He really didn’t want to hear anything about him liking Mya right now. He’d lost his ability to cast spells and he’d failed in bringing Mrs. Stone to their rescue. For all he knew, his father had sprung the trap and had killed her. The thought was enough to make his heart thud in panic.
No, he definitely didn’t want to be nagged about Mya right now. Mercifully, Leera stayed her tongue.
Mya crouched silently before Bridget, tearing apart the bread and tenderly feeding her piece by piece.
A silver-haired Black Guard walked in, followed by Robin.
“Remember your orders,” Robin said. “Keep a stern eye out.”
Mya quickly stood to receive t
hem, head bowed. “M’lord, would it be possible to shackle the prisoners with their arms at their sides? This is most inhumane.”
Robin laughed aloud. “What do you think this is, some kind of luxurious manor house? The prince really spoiled you.”
“But m’lord—”
Robin held up a hand and she fell quiet.
Augum hated the way she had to address him, hated everything about the situation. If he could only get free from the manacles—
Robin bade the burly guard to follow him as he paced over to Augum. “I’m going to question this prisoner. I command you not to interfere. Is that understood?”
The silver-haired guard unfolded his arms and glanced at the entrance. “Forgive me, Honored Necrophyte, but I do not think this fitting. I best seek out the lieutenant.”
“Then go crawling to the lieutenant already!” Robin turned back to Augum, eyes afire. “In the meantime, send Justinius in.” Before the guard even turned away, Justinius rushed inside. The older guard flashed Justinius a disgusted look before slapping the tent flaps aside.
Robin glanced between Mya and Augum and gave a salacious grin. “You like her, don’t you? You like my servant.”
Augum felt the blood rush to his head. He better not—
“It’s the way you’ve been looking at her. I’m not stupid, you know. Justinius—seize her.”
“NO—!” Augum struggled so hard against his manacles he felt them cut into his flesh.
Justinius snatched Mya by the neck and marched her over. She didn’t protest, almond eyes low.
“Look at him struggle. I don’t think the gutterborn rat struggled that hard even for the Leer.” Robin gave Leera a malicious smile.
Leera’s head dropped. Augum felt a horrible pang in his stomach.
“So we know why you all came here,” Robin went on, turning briefly to glance at Haylee. “Though I don’t know why you’d want to save the likes of her—in any case, what we don’t know is, who else is involved in the insurgency.”
Augum gaped at him. “What are you talking about, there is no one else!”
“No—? There’s no one else, you say?” Robin’s voice had a deadly softness to it. “Then tell me, my little rat friend, why is Commander Tridian late returning? Hmm?”
