by Sever Bronny
“I have no idea, I really don’t—” He looked up at Mya, whose long jet hair still managed to shine, almond eyes cast at her feet. She was a lamb ready for slaughter. It was enough for him to bitterly regret not having the frantic lightning power as a last resort, for he would have smote Robin there and then.
Robin’s lip curled as he turned to Justinius. “Apparently he doesn’t have any idea. Why don’t we make him understand.”
Justinius seemed to take the unspoken hint and drew a dagger, placing it to Mya’s throat. Her chin rose as she yelped, breathing rapidly.
The tent went into uproar. “What are you doing, are you mad—?” Haylee shouted, while Leera threw curses and Bridget tried to alert the guards. Ms. Jenkins, meanwhile, still hung unconscious.
Augum felt every muscle in his body tighten to the point of breaking. The manacles strained.
Robin didn’t flinch, patiently awaiting Augum’s response.
“There is no one else—”
“You lie,” Robin said in a tone trying to mimic the Blade of Sorrows.
Justinius adjusted the blade at Mya’s neck. She stiffened with a squeak and shut her eyes tight.
“I’m telling the truth, I swear it—! Damn you, I’m telling the truth!”
“I think he’s lying, sir,” Justinius said.
“Cut her—” Robin said just as the lieutenant with the linen shirt entered, followed by a group of guards, one of them the silver-haired guard.
Justinius immediately lowered the blade from Mya’s throat, but kept a firm hold on her neck.
“What is the meaning of this—?” the lieutenant asked.
“What does it look like? I’m questioning this prisoner. If it wasn’t for your meddling interruption, he would have revealed who else is involved in the insurgency.”
“He was about to kill her!” Augum said, unable to control the desperation in his voice.
Robin scoffed, waving the idea aside.
“On whose authority—?” the lieutenant challenged.
“Commander Tridian’s, sir,” Robin replied in a mocking tone.
“Commander Tridian’s authority stops with Mizora company. This is Venga company, under the command of Commander Canes. Now—” and the lieutenant casually stepped forward. “Young man, need I remind you that threatening a legion servant is dishonorable and unseemly?”
“And need I remind you that she is my servant, given to me by the Lord of the Legion himself!” Robin took a step back, his face twisting with an over-dramatized sneer. “Are you aware that I’m the only one in this camp with the power to control that wraith out there? One word from me and you’ll all be torn to shreds—”
The lieutenant and guards gave him hard looks.
Robin must have known he had overstepped because he quickly held up a hand in supplication. “But I understand, Lieutenant, how you feel. Corrigus, the Blade of Sorrows, and the Lord of the Legion himself have the utmost confidence in my training, which I have to continue. You see, not only am I going to be the most powerful necromancer—besides Lord Sparkstone of course—but I am also going to be the most adept questioner, even more capable than Commander Tridian himself.”
Robin paused a moment to let his little speech sink in. “Now, if you would kindly let me continue my training, I am sure I can overlook this … interference.”
Robin had changed a lot, Augum thought. Even his speech was more refined. Then he remembered they were grooming him for command.
He could almost see the thoughts running through the lieutenant’s brain—if he stood in the way of this brat now, later, when the brat became powerful, there could be retribution.
The lieutenant rubbed his chin. “The Blade of Sorrows has truly taken you under his wing, hasn’t he?” He sighed, his eyes sweeping over Mya with a calculating look. “Well, since she is your servant, given by Lord Sparkstone himself, I see no reason not to let the questioning continue.”
The tent erupted with all the girls shouting their disagreement, while Mya gasped as Justinius’ knife returned to her porcelain throat.
“Leave them be,” the lieutenant ordered, and with a gesture, took all the guards with him.
“Now where was I?” Robin asked, fingering something in his pocket.
Augum glowered. “I promise you, if you do anything to her—”
Justinius pressed the knife closer, staying anything else he wanted to say.
“Who else is involved!” Robin shouted.
Augum’s mind rushed for some kind of plausible lie.
“I’m tired of waiting for your lies,” Robin said, shaking his head. “Cut her.”
“My pleasure.”
Leera, Haylee and Augum began shouting and screaming, yet something strange had happened—Justinius seemed to struggle to cut her throat, as if an invisible hand was holding the knife back.
“What are you waiting for? I said cut her!”
Justinius’ knuckles were white. “I … can’t …”
Robin looked around until spotting Bridget, whose brows were furrowed, gaze solely on Justinius. “It’s her, she’s using Telekinesis—”
He advanced toward her, but what happened next changed everything. A series of concussive, implosive bangs were heard outside, one after another, accompanied by corresponding bright flashes that lit up the outside of the tent like lightning.
The noise culminated in multiple volleys before trickling to a stop. Robin and Justinius hesitated as soldiers bustled outside.
Robin paled. “That’s the sound of teleportation …”
All was still in the tent. When the noises ceased, someone shouted, “All hail the Lord of the Legion’s return!”
Robin visibly relaxed. Perhaps he’d been afraid the resistance had come.
A moment later, Lord Sparkstone’s voice rang clear across the grounds. “The crone knew about the trap—prepare yourselves, for she heads this way!”
Karma
Robin and Justinius exchanged fearful looks before throwing Mya to the ground and scrambling outside.
“Are … are you all right?” Augum asked.
She brought a trembling hand to her throat and glanced through him. Suddenly the tent flaps flew open as a slew of heavily armored Black Guard rushed inside, followed by the Red Guard—towering crimson-armored warriors holding burning swords, their bloody eyes gleaming through slits cut into great bucket helms. A putrid stench much like rancid meat filled the tent, nauseating the prisoners and some of the guards.
The tent flaps moved aside again, this time of their own accord, and the Lord of the Legion entered, followed by Corrigus, Commander Canes, and Prince Sydo Ridian, wearing gold-fringed necrophyte robes and a proud look on his face. Robin, Justinius and the lieutenant squeezed in behind. Robin was whispering a question to Sydo, gesturing at his elaborate robes, but Sydo seemed to ignore him, his nose in the air, making a show of paying attention to the Lord of the Legion.
It didn’t surprise Augum to see the traitor by his father’s side. The Lord of the Legion appeared how he remembered him, wearing golden battle plate with a golden plumed helm. His cloak crackled with lightning, as did his eyes. The shortsword Burden’s Edge hung on his hip, looking undersized.
Despite Augum’s manacled hands and the loss of his arcane ability, hope flowed. The crone delivered his message, and Nana was coming!
Lord Sparkstone fixed his son with a hard stare and exhaled. He paced toward him with regal ease, the plume on his helm so tall it brushed along the tent ceiling. He stopped before Augum and crouched.
A hush befell the tent as he slowly removed his helm and ran a mailed hand through sweaty umber hair. He sniffed sharply, a bull readying to charge, before laying electric eyes on Augum.
“My son, how I regret the way things … turned out.”
Augum’s voice was flat. “You’re a murderer. You burn down villages. You even murdered my mother, your own wife.”
Had anyone ever talked to the Lord of the Legion this way befo
re? Judging by how his entourage stiffened, Augum thought not.
Lord Sparkstone’s eyes softened only a moment before hardening. “Inflexible and stubborn, much like your mother and great-grandmother. The day will come when you see how necessary all of this was. One must rule with an iron fist to achieve anything these days.” Sparkstone stood up. “You’re injured.”
Augum turned his gaze to Robin, who shrank behind Canes.
“Nothing like a good battle scar,” Sparkstone said. “But let us talk of more pressing concerns. The crone stands in the way of our dreams. Perhaps you can speak with her, convince her that giving me what is rightfully mine is for the good of us all. Do you not see, my son? Do you not see what I offer? Eternal life for everyone—think on that!”
“That’s a lie, and you know it. We came from Ley with great-grandpa Thomas Stone, and leaving Ley killed him—he aged a hundred years right before our eyes.” He threw a glare at Sydo. “He saw it with his own eyes.”
His father surveyed him a moment. “And how was my dear, absent grandfather? Did he apologize for abandoning his wife?” Sparkstone flexed his neck before loosening his shoulders, as if gearing for a fight. “I know about the Leyan curse, Son. I am confident I will find a way around it. Thanks to the prince, I also know about the curse of the seven.”
Sydo smoothed his red hair while flashing a smug look at those around him. Few paid him any attention.
“I will find a way around that, too,” Sparkstone continued. “I will be the first in all of history to possess all seven scions—but I won’t stop there.” He clenched his fists close to his golden chest. “How I long to share my grand plans with you. How I long for that, Son.”
He sighed dramatically and let his arms fall to his side. “But you have not joined me. You have not followed in the footsteps of your own father. Nevertheless, one day you will, and on that day you will hear the reason—” He waved idly at his surroundings, “—for all this. You will hear the reason, and you will understand—and you will agree.”
What was he talking about? “You can’t make me join you.”
The Lord of the Legion slowly glanced at Leera, Bridget, Haylee, even Mya. “Do you really think that true?” he asked softly.
A shiver crept up Augum’s spine. Did his father know about Mya? Did Robin say something?
“Do you not see what it is I will be forced to do?” his father continued in mock sorrow.
Augum looked at Leera and Bridget, both watching him with defiant faces, though in their eyes he saw fear. He knew he had to be very careful here. If he protested too much, his father might make an example out of them. He did, after all, slaughter an entire village in front of him, so why would he hesitate now?
An idea came to him. His father wanted something from him, maybe he could use it as leverage to keep them safe …
“Then promise me my friends will come to no harm, Father,” Augum blurted in a purposely defeated tone, saying the last word tenderly. “All of them—Ms. Jenkins, Haylee, Leera, Bridget, and Mya. No matter what happens, free them.” He was counting on his father being blinded by the longing to share his grand plans with him, at least just enough to yield maneuvering room.
Lord Sparkstone watched him a moment. “If I do, will you cooperate with me in retrieving the scion?”
The question had a taint of cynicism to it, but Augum saw little choice—he had to try to save his friends somehow. Besides, without arcane powers, this was all that came to mind—a lethal cat and mouse game with the Lord of the Legion.
He dropped his head, hiding his eyes. “Yes.”
His father nodded slowly. “Take them away,” he commanded, “including the servant.”
Robin scrambled to the front of the group. “But, Lord Sparkstone … she’s mine!” He pointed firmly at Mya. “You gave her to me!”
The Lord of the Legion slowly turned his head and Robin instantly dropped his eyes. Meanwhile, one of the guards began unlocking the manacles. After staring at Robin for a length of time, Sparkstone returned his attention to Augum, idly resting his palm on Burden’s Edge. “So how do you think Nana’s going to come at me, hmm, Son?”
Augum glanced to his right. Bridget was freed first, so weak she had to be helped up by the silver-haired guard.
“She gave us quite the slip, almost as if someone had warned her. She cannot be working alone.”
So his father had no idea it was him that alerted Nana …
“There are obviously others involved in the insurgency,” Sparkstone continued. “An insurgency I shall crush as I have crushed all impudence. You know, Son, your great-grandmother has identical ambitions to mine, if you could believe it—” He idly glanced to Leera, now also free from her manacles and held up by a guard. “That’s right, she, too, wants to live forever. How do you think she’s as old as she is? How many great-grandmothers do you know still walking around performing arcanery with such strength?”
Augum remained silent, trying to keep his face impassive.
“Let me tell you the real reason she wants to keep the scion.” He leaned closer. Augum detected the faintest scent of rot. “It’s what’s allowing her to live so long.”
“If she’s keeping the scion, it’s for a better reason than that,” Augum said.
Sparkstone gave him a condescending smile. “Stupid boy, you think her so benevolent as to eventually pass the scion to you? It would mean her death!”
Augum didn’t believe him in the slightest. He knew Mrs. Stone wanted to pass him the scion, but was just waiting for the right time—and if the scion truly was keeping her alive, there was no way he would accept it from her. Despite his true feelings on the matter, he decided to let his father think that seed of doubt had been planted, and so he dropped his eyes and acted sullen.
They freed Haylee next, followed by the unconscious Ms. Jenkins. Then the guards dragged them out of the tent, including Mya. The girls gave Augum a longing look, a look that said good luck and goodbye. Something about it made him feel tired and lonely—he hoped they’d be all right, wherever they were being taken.
“Would you get these blasted things off already—” Lord Sparkstone said to the guard, gesturing at Augum’s manacles.
The guard hastened to free Augum’s hands. When they dropped at last, a stretching pain shot through his shoulders, as if he’d been quartered by horses for days. His arms were swollen, purple and numb. Luckily, no one noticed the engraved pearl still clenched in his fist.
“Stand him up.”
Augum was yanked to his feet.
“Lord Sparkstone—!” Canes said, holding up a small speaking orb. The entire crowd turned to the curly-haired man Augum would forever perceive as a traitor.
“What is it—?”
“Forgive me, Great One, but I think it’s—I think it’s one of the other commanders. He’s trying to say something—”
The Lord of the Legion made an impatient sucking sound with his teeth and strode over, the guard dragging Augum right along. Everyone parted out of their way as Sparkstone snatched the speaking orb out of Canes’ hand. No one dared move as he listened.
Augum, held right beside his father, was in perfect position to see and hear what was going on. Inside the small orb, he saw a burned face, still smoking, whispering something.
“My liege, who is it?” Canes asked quietly.
Sparkstone’s nostrils whistled as he inhaled. “Commander Tridian.”
“The Blade of Sorrows,” someone mumbled.
The soldiers exchanged anxious looks.
“No, I expect you to survive—!” Sparkstone roared into the orb. “You are to live and suffer your failure!” He shoved the orb back to Canes, who fumbled it in his hairy hands. “That’s what the fool gets for refusing to have an accomplished warlock with him. Man hasn’t an arcane bone in his body, but I thought he at least had a brain.”
Some of the soldiers tittered but Sparkstone shot a glaring look at them and they instantly fell silent. He put on his plu
med helm. “She’ll be here soon. Prepare yourselves.” He made an impatient gesture and everyone but Corrigus, Canes, Robin, Sydo, and the Red Guards vacated the tent.
Augum stood by his father, trying to contain his hope. If the Blade of Sorrows and his men had fallen, it could only mean one thing—Mrs. Stone had saved Leland and Mr. Goss—but how she could have known about them was a mystery.
Sparkstone glanced at his Red Guard, as if communicating silently with them. “Corrigus—prepare defensive enchantments around the camp,” he said without taking his eyes off them.
“As you wish, Sire,” Corrigus said, dismissing himself.
“Prince Sydo.”
Sydo skittered forth with an elaborate bow. “Yes, my gracious lord?”
“You’ve had enough training with wraiths. Take command of Robin’s.”
Sydo paled, stuttering, “You mean for a real battle?”
Robin strode forth. “But, my Lord, that’s my—”
The Lord of the Legion glanced over at them and they instantly fell silent. Both swallowed, made a short bow, and left.
Canes shifted where he stood, still clutching the speaking orb, his pudgy face sweaty even in the cold.
“A great battle approaches,” Sparkstone said softly. “I have been waiting for this a long time.” He turned to Augum, the plumed helm making him appear much taller. “Today I prove I am the most powerful warlock alive.” He made an idle gesture and out flew three cloudy spheres from a leather pouch in his belt. Each had a light tint to it—one red, one green, one pale blue.
The scions hovered around the Lord of the Legion like attentive bees, humming with ancient, potent arcanery. The space around him warped slightly. Canes swallowed and took a step back.
“Keep the boy close to me at all times,” Sparkstone said, leaving the tent, Red Guard in tow.
“Yes, m’lord.” Canes grabbed Augum by the arm and dragged him along.
Outside was a hive of activity. Torches burned around the outer perimeter of the camp, where Corrigus paced making complex gestures. Guards ran to and fro. Horses were prepared, armor donned.
