by Sever Bronny
The night was dark. Clouds rushed by overhead without a whisper of wind on the ground. Augum searched for the girls. They had to be near, no way would his father give up precious hostages.
“You there,” Commander Canes said to a hapless guard. “Sharpen stakes and impale them in the ground there and there.”
“She’s a warlock, you fool,” Lord Sparkstone said.
Canes reddened. “Cancel that order, soldier. As you were.” The guard rushed off.
Augum spied Robin hissing something at Sydo, again gesturing at the prince’s more elaborate robes, then at the wraith hunkered down behind them. Sydo merely shrugged, and as soon as Sparkstone happened to look his way, he made another elaborate bow. “I am here, My Liege! The wraith is under control and ready to attack.”
Robin looked incredulous. “You haven’t even given it a proper command—”
“I will not stand for your insufferable attitude. You are to address me as Prince Sydo, and you will bow upon doing so.”
“You trumped up little snot, I’m the one who gave you—”
Sydo, conscious of the Lord of the Legion looking on, held up a hand right in Robin’s face. “You will cease speaking to me immediately and step away. I am in control of the wraith now.”
Robin was shaking with fury but, conscious of the Lord of the Legion looking on, stepped away and crossed his arms.
It gave Augum some pleasure watching those two go at it. Both should have been Sparkstone’s sons, not him.
They were in a clearing near the middle of the camp. The Lord of the Legion paced back and forth, hands behind his back, scions buzzing. His Red Guards stood near, towering sentries clutching burning blades.
“My Lord,” Canes began, constantly glancing about for any sign of Mrs. Stone. “How do you think she will attack us?”
“That I do not know, Commander.”
Canes swallowed. “I … I’ve heard a little of what she can do … back at … back at Castle Arinthian, that is.”
“You mean when she folded your arms back?” Augum said, unable to help himself.
Canes gave Augum a murderous look.
“Ah, yes.” Sparkstone turned to face Canes, who shrank. “She freed you to deliver me a message. How did that go again … ‘Tell Lividius the hole in his heart can’t be filled with what he seeks’. Wasn’t that it now?”
“I … I think so, my liege.”
“And how does it feel to wear the burdensome title of Fallen Knight?”
“I serve you in the only way I know, Sire. I had an opportunity and I took it. The sacrifice was … necessary. Eternal life is worth the price of my honor.”
“Precisely why you are one of my commanders. An honor well deserved.”
Canes nodded while slowly exhaling.
“Yes, there are indeed quite a few tales of my grandmother’s battles,” Sparkstone went on, looking off into the horizon. “Apoc’s forfeit. The vanquishing of the Desert Destroyer. The Canterran Cobra. The Blacktongue tragedy. The two duels against Ottentus Maledius Anavictus, one of the last living masters.” He was rattling them off now, hands animated. “Snix the Speedsword, Sabius the Reaper, Totillus the Turncoat Monk, Endius, Scadius, Trintus, Zodian the Grand, and of course, no one will ever forget Narsus … and I could go on.” He paused while Canes adjusted his collar, looking a little peaky.
“She is, uh, quite accomplished, Sire.”
“You know I studied every one of those battles, and to this day, I still don’t know how she beat her adversaries in half of them.” He turned to Canes. “But that’s just between us of course.”
“—of course, Great lord.”
For Augum, it was one thing to hear stories about Mrs. Stone from Bridget, quite another to hear them from the Lord of the Legion.
“You know that when I was a boy,” Sparkstone continued wistfully, “I would hear about all these legendary duels, but none of them were real to me, none of them. Today though … today will be real.” He nodded to himself. “She is now the only living master. She was my mentor, and I must say, a better one than Narsus.”
“Sire, you trained under the great Narsus?” Canes asked.
Sparkstone turned to Augum, ignoring Canes. “Few know that, my son, but it is true. I was Narsus’ apprentice.”
Augum wondered if Mrs. Stone even knew that.
Canes cleared his beefy throat. “And … and she vanquished him—”
“—below the Academy of Arcane Arts, yes,” Sparkstone finished, lightning eyes still on Augum, who only wanted to yell how Nana would also defeat them and walk away unscathed, but he remembered he was pretending to cooperate.
Sparkstone resumed pacing. “You are wondering why the stories of the greatness of our foe, Commander Canes. We must be honest with ourselves in order to succeed. Never underestimate your opponent.” He began talking to himself in an undertone now. “I have three scions and she only one. We have Corrigus, the wraith, the Red Guard, and over eighty men at our disposal. But above all, we have them.” Sparkstone waved idly at Augum, apparently forgetting he had agreed to free his friends. Augum, however, had no illusions as to his father’s so-called promises, and it came as no surprise to him. To be fair, he also had no intention of convincing Mrs. Stone to hand over the scion, especially now that he knew it might mean her death. The whole thing was like some strange play they were in, trying to convince each other of their acting abilities.
The question now was how it would end. With no way to cast spells and his only possession the near-useless pearl, the prospect of him doing something meaningful seemed remote.
He hoped Nana had a plan.
Canes, still holding onto Augum’s elbow, spoke into his speaking orb before turning to Sparkstone. “My liege, I sent Axon Company a message to double-time their march. If all goes well, they should be here within hours.”
“Ah, Rotus Magnavilius—a good man and a good commander.”
“Pardon, my liege, but he’s a warlock, isn’t he?” Canes sounded hopeful.
Sparkstone smiled to himself. “One of the best. He was with me in the beginning, you know. 17th degree fire, a bit of a madman, and a hell of a drinker. Back then, you couldn’t just refuse a contest with Rotus. He’d keep after you until you said yes, and then you’d wake up in the morning with the vilest headache. I gave him Axon Company for his service, though I envision him becoming my first general one day. It will be good to have him by my side, but what I really need is necromancers and an army of Dreadnought-equipped soldiers, not just warlocks. Damn, why must everything take so long?” He sighed. “I suppose I should know the arcane way can’t be rushed …”
Augum studied him as he paced. If he couldn’t use his arcanery, he’d use his wits. Maybe he could exploit his father’s fear of Mrs. Stone …
Sparkstone approached the wraith sitting beside Sydo and pet one of its rotten limbs. “Ah, you are quite the triumph, aren’t you? Thousands of years of necromantic artistry passed down by my predecessors …”
The wraith cooed like a pigeon.
“He is a marvelous incarnation, Your Eminence,” Sydo said as Robin glared from nearby.
The Lord of the Legion ignored him. “Don’t worry, my pet, one day you’ll have many brothers and sisters to fight alongside you, this I promise. For now, you must do your ancient duty and obey this fledgling necrophyte.” Sparkstone glanced between Sydo, Robin and Augum. “The children of the Legion are its future.”
For the first time ever, Augum exchanged a look with Robin and Sydo, and all three agreed on one thing—no way did they want anything to do with each other.
“So you just summon the wraiths from the ground?” Augum asked his father, trying to sound casual. “How hard are they to control?”
Robin quietly scoffed.
“Is that interest I hear?” Sparkstone asked, turning away from the wraith. “Does my son secretly wish to become a necromancer?”
For some odd reason, Sydo pranced forward and smacked Augum on th
e cheek with one of the lamest slaps Augum had ever felt. It barely stung.
“They are not merely summoned from the ground, you gutterborn little—” Sydo stopped mid-sentence, suddenly conscious of what he had inferred. He shrank away from the cold look the Lord of the Legion was giving him, speaking very quickly. “My Liege, I did not mean what I said of course, but let me show this … this usurper … anyway let me show him exactly how, err, how much skill is involved in commanding such a beast—” and before anyone could say anything, Sydo whipped around, gesturing for the wraith to stand. “Necro ita! Ita!” but the thing just sat there. “I said, ita, ita! You damn—” He kicked the wraith in its massive shin. It reacted as swiftly as a viper, snatching him in its giant clawed hands and readying to take a great bite out of his skull while he screamed.
“Adai!” Robin said in a firm voice, and the wraith instantly ceased. He gestured over to a rather large pile of horse dung. “Necro sinna ad endo.”
“No!” Sydo shouted. “Gods, no—adai! ADAI!” but the wraith shoved him into the pile of horse manure, smearing him in there for good measure, before letting go. For a moment, the prince was completely still. Then he slowly dug himself out, gibbering and whimpering. Everyone, from the Lord of the Legion, to the soldiers, to the lowliest servant, laughed. Even Augum cracked a grin.
Sydo stood up, slopping with manure, lip quivering.
“I think His Highness needs a bath,” Robin said, much to the amusement of the crowd.
Sydo took a squishy step toward Robin.
“Oh no, here comes the sewage monster—” Robin called as the crowd roared with laughter. “Everybody run !”
“I … I will kill you!” Sydo shouted in a shrill voice, running at Robin.
Robin snorted before firmly shoving at the air.”Baka!” Sydo was sent flying—right back into the manure pile.
As soldiers doubled over with laughter, Sydo gurgled something.
Robin made a show of placing a hand to his ear. “What’s that, Your Royal Highness? Not quite the royal feast you’re used to?”
“Uhhnnnghh …” Sydo stood up, hands shaking, looking around as if lost. “M-m-m-m—” but he couldn’t stop stuttering. “M-m-m-m—” Finally, the crowd in hysterics, he tottered off. “M-m-m-m …”
Augum watched the prince slink away, almost feeling sorry for him. If only the Karma spell had worked on him, maybe that wouldn’t have happened.
“It seems our humble prince is not as adept with the wraith as I had hoped,” Sparkstone said with a note of amused disdain. When the laughter died down, he turned back to Augum, raising a golden-gloved finger. “Now as I was saying, interest is a gateway. Necromancy is a fascinating element, far more challenging than I had ever imagined—more so than the lightning element even, if you could believe it. There are … subtleties involved that I cannot explain. And the rewards …” He shook his head and paced closer, hands travelling behind his back, helmed chin rising, revealing a black leather strap. “The rewards are greater than you could ever imagine. I know what you’re thinking, Son, I know it because you are my flesh and blood. You’re thinking, ‘How did such an ordinary man accomplish so much?’ ”
Augum gave a half-shrug, playing along.
Sparkstone swept the grounds with crackling eyes. “You see, I believe a father should be honest with his son. Perhaps I’m not the smartest man. Nor am I the most cunning like, say, Commander Tridian. I’m not the most garrulous, as Rotus, as wise as Corrigus, nor as eloquent as Narsus was. I’m not even the best mentor, like my dear grandmother.” He smiled. “But perhaps no one is as talented a mentor as she.”
He stopped, focusing on the burning blades of the Red Guard, who watched him with steadfast gazes. “You know what separates me from the common man? Ambition. That’s it. Simple, pure, ambition—but it is the greatest ambition known, and I shall change the face of the world with it. Woe to those that stand in my way.”
The Lord of the Legion stared at the horizon, the flames reflecting off his golden armor, until Corrigus strode forth.
“My liege, the arcane defenses are in place, though I cannot make any guarantees of their strength in relation to—”
“—yes, yes,” Sparkstone said. “I understand perfectly. Even you, my most powerful warlock, fear her.”
“It would be unwise to underestimate your old mentor, Great One.”
“Agreed.” Sparkstone glanced up at swiftly moving coal-gray clouds, as if expecting her to come from the sky.
Augum absolutely loathed to admit it, but some distant iota of his heart felt something for his father. He wondered what life would have been like if his father had never dabbled in necromancy—would his mother still be alive, the family together? Would they be visiting Nana, sharing tales around the fire?
“Why?” he asked, staring at his father.
Sparkstone’s brows rose behind his helm. “Why what?”
“Why did you kill her? Why did you murder my mother?”
Canes stiffened, but Corrigus remained impassive, while a quiet grin spread across Robin’s face, perhaps thinking Augum was finally going to get his comeuppance.
Sparkstone observed Augum with electric eyes before striding forth and delivering a back-handed smack with his mailed hand.
Augum fell to the ground, cheek smarting, eyes watering.
Sparkstone stood over him a moment, adjusting his gauntlets, before pacing away.
Robin’s face lit up as Canes dragged Augum to his feet.
“Corrigus—your counsel,” Sparkstone said.
Corrigus cleared his throat, black eyes watching Augum with no hint of emotion. “My liege, all precautions have been taken, but we must remain vigilant. The crone is unlikely to attack us head-on. Instead, I would expect her to probe our defenses. She may not be alone, so we must be wary of separation. In the end, your greatest weapon will be the child.”
“I should have spent more time practicing with the scions,” Sparkstone muttered. “I still feel these cursed things withholding their secrets from me, Corrigus. Yet another damned inconvenience. I am a relative babe when it comes to the use of these ancient artifacts, whereas she has had a lifetime of practice. Curse her stubbornness, her refusal to give me what is rightfully mine—I should have been trained in the scion’s use as a child!”
Corrigus’ black gaze fell upon the three hovering scions, vibrating with energy. He said nothing.
His father was very impatient, Augum noted, trying not to touch his stinging cheek.
Time passed slowly as the camp stood waiting. Soldiers’ necks craned at every sound from the Tallows. He hoped Nana struck before Axon Company arrived with their two hundred men and 17th degree fire warlock. Just to try something different, he closed his eyes, feigning tiredness, and, using the pearl, glanced through the Orb of Orion into the Lieutenant’s tent.
What he saw surprised him. Three black-armored guards, one of which was Justinius, guarded Bridget, Leera, Mya, Haylee, and Ms. Jenkins. Ms. Jenkins lay on one bed attended by Mya. Haylee and Bridget sat on the other with their rucksack. Leera stood in between, staring imploringly at the Orb of Orion as if searching for any sign of Augum.
Since the guards weren’t paying much attention to him, he tried making the orb wink, remembering how Erika spooked them by suddenly revealing her eye. Leera’s face immediately lit up. It had worked. She promptly nudged Bridget, who in turn nudged Haylee. All three flashed him a hopeful smile before he withdrew to avoid attracting suspicion.
He felt some satisfaction knowing he had at least bolstered their spirits, and, having seen they were all right, his own as well.
Yet they still didn’t know the witch had stripped him of his arcane powers …
He sighed, setting himself the task of trying to locate where exactly the lieutenant’s tent was. When the man appeared, he followed him with his eyes until the lieutenant entered a tent on the other side of the watchtower. He confirmed the location with a quick peek through the orb.
&n
bsp; More time passed. The pudgy Canes had long dumped Augum to the frozen muddy ground, having tired of holding him. Sparkstone paced continuously, occasionally barking a command, while Corrigus merely observed. Soldiers patrolled the camp carrying torches, hands resting on their weapons, eyes constantly watching the horizon. Robin practiced giving the wraith commands while everyone stayed clear.
Augum, meanwhile, bundled his robes close and waited for the arrival of his great-grandmother.
Legend
The more time passed, the quicker Sparkstone paced. His electric eyes roved from the horizon to the trees to the tents and back again. Suddenly he stopped, fixated on the trees.
Canes followed his gaze. “Sire? Is there something—” but he was cut off by a distant rumbling.
The hair on Augum’s neck rose as soldiers shouted from outside the camp. Men scurried about, frantically gesturing to each other, preparing for the inevitable attack. The rumbling grew louder.
A Black Guardsman exploded out from the tree line in a plume of snow, waving his arms. “Axon Company approaches!”
The call echoed around camp. Soon soldiers were cheering and congratulating each other as countless horses began crashing through the trees. As the horsemen lined up, one rider cantered forth.
“My benevolent, gracious, and most honorable liege!” said a burly man with an ale gut, dismounting. He wore ornate black leather armor under a brilliant red cloak. His face was as red as his beard, and on his great head rested a thorny steel helm. The man tottered over to Sparkstone and bent a knee before him. “My eternal allegiance, Lord Sparkstone. Axon Company reporting with two hundred and seventeen men at your disposal.”
“Commander Rotus Magnavilius!” Sparkstone said. “Rise, my weary friend. Good of you to join us, I am sure you’ve heard of the expected attack by the crone—?”
“I have indeed, my liege—your speaking orbs are quite useful.” Commander Magnavilius nodded quickly to Canes and Corrigus. Only Canes responded in kind.
“Still sore about that duel, eh, Corrigus?”
One of Corrigus’ brows rose. “Your use of Immunity was … interesting.”
