by Sever Bronny
Leera’s hands quickly retreated, dropping the reins. A hurt look passed over her eyes.
“Aug, you did what you could,” Bridget said. “We all did what we could …”
He took up the reins, face hot. Not good enough.
Leera placed the blanket back on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
They rode in silence for some time, Augum hating himself.
“Think your father survived?” Bridget finally asked.
He pondered the matter. His father had been walking through that fire unscathed only moments before he struck him. “Probably.” Then he remembered something. “We have to tell Nana about Thomas.” How in Sithesia was he going to approach that subject? How does one tell his great-grandmother her husband died? And One Eye made them promise to pass on his message of apology too.
“Better wait until she’s well enough. I wonder what the Seers told her …”
He didn’t reply, in no mood to talk. Anything he said would probably come out wrong anyway.
They resumed a silent canter.
Eventually, he started feeling terrible for taking his anger out on Leera. She was Mya’s friend too. What right did he have to be angry with her? Better to reserve that for Robin and his father. His thoughts turned against him and all this silence was making it worse.
“So where’re we going, anyway?” he asked, trying to sound somewhat amiable.
“To retrieve Leland and Mr. Goss,” Bridget said. “Mrs. Stone told us she sheltered them in an abandoned cabin somewhere west of Sparrow’s Perch.”
He felt a warm gladness sweep over him—so Nana had saved Leland and Mr. Goss first. He wondered how she knew they would need help.
His thoughts wandered to the selfless acts of the healer, Ms. Jenkins. She had saved him and paid the ultimate price for it. Sacrifice on his behalf was a recurring pattern. Maybe a witch had cast a curse on him when he was a boy …
“I hardly knew Ms. Jenkins,” he said. “Are all healers like that?”
“I think most healers have a kindly disposition,” Bridget said. “Makes you wonder how many under the Legion’s thumb are like her.”
“I didn’t know they could remove witch curses though.”
“Neither did I.”
He lit up his wrist with his degree ring, heart filled with gratitude for that greatest of sacrifices, all so he could cast his arcanery once more. The thought was powerful and unnerving—someone had actually given up their life for him to be able to cast spells again.
It will not be wasted, that was a promise.
He gave a half-glance back at Leera. She quickly looked away, but not before he had a chance to spot the dark circles under her eyes. She had to be as tired as he was.
“Lee, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t reply, choosing to fuss with a loose strap hanging from the saddle.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he continued. “I’m a rotten friend and I got Ms. Jenkins and Mya killed and—”
“Stop it—” Leera said, looking up with watery eyes. “Just … hush.”
He turned back around, confused.
“We should go single file,” Bridget said, ducking underneath a snow-covered branch. “I’ll take lead.”
Time passed. The cold deepened as night fell. A hush descended over the snowy forest.
Augum adjusted the blanket, stretching it so that more would be available for Leera. She took it wordlessly, wrapping it snug around the two of them. Suddenly she put her arms around his waist and placed her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t long before she slept quietly.
He was confused as to his feelings. He remembered kissing Leera on the cheek and felt a hot flush. Then he remembered Leera’s advice to stop torturing himself with Mya—but now Mya was gone. He had watched her die in his arms. It all made little sense and hurt to think about, so he shoved the thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the path, the forest, anything but Mya.
It proved impossible. That look—that final look would never leave him. The fading pulse in her porcelain hands, that shining smile, those almond eyes …
At last, after hours of trotting well into the wee hours of the morning, they arrived at a dilapidated cabin surrounded by frozen overgrowth and towering cedars. The snow here was pristine, only punctured by occasional rabbit tracks.
“Leera,” Augum whispered over his shoulder. Leera groaned and readjusted her grip on his waist. “Leera, we’re here …”
She stirred, lifted her head, and opened her eyes. “Already?”
“Yeah, sleepyhead, come on.” He helped her dismount. He then took the reins of Bridget and Mrs. Stone’s horse, leading it up to the cabin. The rickety door suddenly creaked open and out came a tired-looking Mr. Goss, adjusting his spectacles.
“Mercy, what a wonderful, sooty sight you all are—!” He quickly drew Augum and then Leera into a tight hug.
“And Bridget … oh, I am just so happy to see you all safe.”
“Hello, Mr. Goss,” Bridget said in a weary voice. “How is Leland? Is he all right?”
“Oh yes, he is sleeping inside.” His eyes then travelled to Mrs. Stone. He gracefully took her hand and kissed it. “My dear Mrs. Stone, this is the second time I find myself thanking you for saving the life of my son …”
Mrs. Stone stirred, too weak to speak. She patted his hand without opening her eyes.
“Come, let us take her inside,” Mr. Goss said.
With a little group effort, they carried her to the dilapidated hut and bundled her in blankets near Leland, who blithely snoozed away, a linen bandage wrapped around his head.
Augum went out to tie up the horses. “Ms. Jenkins didn’t make it,” he blurted upon his return, closing the door behind him, head low. Her life for his arcanery. He never felt more undeserving.
Mr. Goss, who had been busy helping Bridget remove the rucksack, slowed down. He placed it on the ground and took off his spectacles to clean them. “I … I see.”
“We don’t know what happened to Haylee either,” Bridget said. “And one of our other companions …” She looked to Augum, whose mouth suddenly went dry. Mr. Goss didn’t know Mya, so what was the point of telling him? He looked away. He’d rather not talk about it.
Mr. Goss held the spectacles in his hand while staring at his son lying quietly beside Mrs. Stone. “There has been much loss this day.” He slowly glanced around at them. “Yet we live on. Ms. Jenkins saved the life of my boy. I will never forget that. I will never forget her, as I will never forget Mrs. Stone for her efforts. I am a humble chandler with no hope of paying these debts back.” He replaced his spectacles. “You all look exhausted. Let us not think on the matter anymore. Get some sleep. There will be plenty of days ahead for rumination.”
They washed their faces and hands with snow as Mr. Goss swept the floor and readied blankets. By the time dawn sent thin light streaking in through the shutters, everyone snoozed, breath fogging in the crisp air.
Augum dreamt of Mya. He was holding her as she disappeared before his eyes, like the morning mist after the sun shone upon it. The harder he held, the more she faded, until she was gone, leaving the memory of that final look.
A Quiet Fire
Little was said the next morning. They packed and washed up. As they were readying to take inventory, Augum realized he had forgotten the Orb of Orion. Luckily, he still had the pearl in one of his pockets.
He had to see. Maybe Mya was there, waiting to be rescued.
When they weren’t looking, he closed his eyes and concentrated on seeing through the orb. A moment later he was staring at the remains of two cots, a tent, and a slew of blackened bodies. In the background, between clouds of black smoke, was the hazy outline of Hangman’s Rock.
The scene was eerily still.
Suddenly he realized what he was doing—somewhere in that charred mess lay Ms. Jenkins and Mya. He tore away from the orb, gasping for breath. Everything that had happened came rushing back. The fire, the chaos,
the desperate struggle for life. He fell to his knees, thinking he was going to retch, pearl rolling from his hand. Mya was gone and he was still here, walking and talking and breathing …
Leera rushed to his side. “Aug, you all right? What happened?”
He only shook his head.
Leera picked up the pearl. “So you still have it. And you looked through it, didn’t you? Don’t do it again, all right?”
He gazed into her dark eyes, eyes filled with concern. “All right.”
After taking some time to comfort him, she shared a look with Bridget. “If the orb survived and the Legion found it—”
“—we could listen in,” Bridget said. “We just have to be careful they don’t do the same to us.”
Meanwhile, he knelt by Mrs. Stone, taking her withered hand in his own. She had definitely aged, though not as fast as her husband—and just how was he supposed to tell her Thomas was gone?
He stared at her pale face, cracked with ancient lines. They looked deeper, more defined. Her hair seemed wispier too, though she still had it braided in a long silver ponytail. He glanced at her charred robe. It was fringed with gold and embroidered with unfamiliar white flowers. Had she received it from the monks?
Her eyes opened a little and she smiled. “You … have … done … well … great … grandson …”
Augum shook his head. “No, I haven’t, Nana. I’ve failed miserably. Mya is … She’s …”
“I … know. All … things … pass …”
It was painful to hear. He squeezed her hand. “Please don’t speak, Nana, you need rest. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but it can wait.”
“We … must … strike … east … Muranians …”
“Muranians?”
“Sounds like a mountain range,” Bridget said, retrieving Tridian’s sheepskin map. She scanned it with a finger. “They’re not on here. Must be further east.”
“I know where they are,” Mr. Goss said, stepping through the door, face grim. “They are the dividing range between Tiberra and Solia. Such a journey would be perilous at this time as the Legion is moving through there on their way to attack Tiberra.
“Why the Muranians, Nana?”
They all turned to Mrs. Stone, whose eyes were closed. “Occulus’ … castle.”
“But Mrs. Stone,” Bridget began, “Occulus’ castle has been lost to time for, for over fifteen hundred years—”
“Must … find … it.”
Augum suspected it had something to do with the Seers, but didn’t press the issue as he didn’t want to weaken her further. She’d explain in due time, he figured.
“We should find another hideout until Mrs. Stone recuperates,” Mr. Goss said. “Somewhere safe.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe the Waxmans … old friends of the family who happen to possess a farm on the Gamber.”
“That’s my old river—” Augum said. “I lived near there.”
“Let me see that map please. Ah, yes, here—” Mr. Goss tapped a spot north of Augum’s old village of Willowbrook. “Mr. and Mrs. Waxman, their three daughters, and seven sons, I believe. If they are well and able, they will take us in and allow us rest.”
Leera hunched over the map with knitted brows. “Mr. Goss, that’s at least a four day walk …”
“Yes, I am aware, but I have a small store of food in Sparrow’s Perch, and if we find more horses …”
“My father would search Sparrow’s Perch first.”
“We have no choice,” Bridget said. “We need food.”
Mrs. Stone beckoned weakly, whispered something into Bridget’s ear.
“Mrs. Stone said it’ll be safe to enter Sparrow’s Perch right now, but we must be quick about it.”
Mr. Goss gave a nod. “I believe the vanquished Legionnaires left behind a horse or two there as well.”
Augum wondered what had become of the Blade of Sorrows. Would they find the man lying in the snow in the middle of the village?
“Bridget, you take the warhorse with Mrs. Stone,” Mr. Goss said. “Leera, you take the chestnut with Leland. Augum and I shall walk.”
Thick cloud trawled slowly overhead, the air crisp and dry. Not a sound stirred the forest other than the crunch of snow beneath hoof and foot. Augum’s thoughts dwelled on Mya, Ms. Jenkins, and Haylee. The former two had perished, but what happened to Haylee? Could she still be saved? It was torment, not knowing. She deserved her freedom regardless of what she had done in school.
Mr. Goss had them stop outside the village. He made the girls wait with Mrs. Stone, taking Augum with him. Sparrow’s Perch was riddled with Legion bodies, but not one was Tridian. While Mr. Goss gathered provisions, Augum quietly searched for a horse, finding a black Legion warhorse nearby. Mr. Goss soon emerged and they returned to the group. “So they left one behind after all,” Leera said with a smile.
“And we should have enough food and blankets to last us the journey,” Mr. Goss said. “I refilled our skins of water and found us some tents too.” He proceeded to feed the horses, starting with the new arrival. “Leland, come ride with your father so the two adventurers can ride together.”
Leland moaned, allowing his father to pick him up off the saddle and place him on the new horse.
Augum turned to Leera. “Stuck with me once again.”
She sighed dramatically. “Whatever will I do?”
“Take the back.”
She smirked. “Forget it. I’ve got the reins,” and reached out a hand.
“Fine …” He took it and hauled himself up, grabbing her waist.
Soon the group paced east on a course Mr. Goss surmised would take them directly to the Waxman farm, barring any encounters with the Legion. As they rode, the trio recounted the entirety of their adventures to Mrs. Stone, avoiding the subject of her husband and One Eye for now. They also informed her about the three things Sydo passed on to Sparkstone—that if he claimed all seven scions he’d be killed; that all the portals to Ley but the one in Castle Arinthian have been destroyed; and that there existed a recipe to make a portal to Ley without a scion.
“That is unfortunate,” Mrs. Stone wheezed at the mention of these last three things, “but perhaps inevitable.”
“Hey, whatever happened to that bag of snot anyway?” Leera asked.
Augum realized the girls hadn’t witnessed the spectacle. He shook his head. “It all started with Sydo giving me the lamest slap—” and he went on to recount what happened to Sydo Ridian the Fourth, and how he met his most unfortunate end, though the comedic moments were greatly muted by the past evening’s events.
“That poor, foolish boy,” Bridget said in a broken voice.
“He was a traitor that got what he deserved,” Leera said. “Just wish I could have seen him smeared into the manure.”
“Don’t say that—”
“But he—”
“Stop it. I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”
They passed through the snowy forest without incident, circumnavigating the southern side of Mt. Barrow before breaking out into the open Tallows. A wind had kicked up as clouds clumped overhead, casting a gray pall over the day. As there was no one around, the trio practiced their arcanery, especially the more difficult spells such as Push, Disarm and Slam, the latter only when they were far enough away from the forest to insure they would not be heard. By the time evening arrived, the trees had all but disappeared behind them, leaving the dim outline of Mt. Barrow, its peak lost in cloud.
Somewhere along that vast empty plain, they stopped to set up camp. After erecting tents and feeding and watering the horses, they bundled in blankets around a cozy fire and ate from their provisions. Mrs. Stone seemed to feel a little better, her eyes remaining open as she watched the curling flames. Finally, during a lull in conversation, Augum thought it a good time to fulfill his promise.
“Nana, I have something to tell you,” he said, while Bridget and Leera instinctively stiffened.
Mrs. Stone turned her weary face to him.
“I told you how we had to leave Ley because they were threatening to wipe our memories. Well, what I didn’t tell you was … about Great-grandfather … he saved us by leaving Ley with us, and, um—”
“—and he passed,” Mrs. Stone finished for him in a gravelly voice, giving the slightest of nods, coughing. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I should have known Thomas would have gone with you. We discussed the possibility—only should something happen, that is. Though I rather had it in mind that he teleport you out of Ley. I told him you were more than capable of taking care of yourselves.” She shook her head and smiled. “That old fool and his nonsense …”
“Nana … he … he did it to prove that immortality couldn’t be taken beyond the boundary of Ley. Leaving aged him before our eyes. He said it was important we saw eternal life couldn’t be taken beyond Ley.”
“Knowledge is important. It is like fire—if it is not kept alight, it shall extinguish. Once in a while, a reminder is needed.”
“There is more, Nana. He said … he said to tell you that he loved you.” He thought of Mya and a lump formed in his throat. Mrs. Stone smiled sweetly and nodded, eyes distant as if remembering something warm and beautiful.
“It is as it was meant to be,” she said.
After a reflective time silently watching the fire, Augum began telling her about a strange old man they met named One Eye. He told her about his odd shop; the supper and bathhouse; learning the Slam spell; and the dragon-tooth necklace, which led him to recount what One Eye told them about finding it in an ancient mine. At this last mention, Mrs. Stone surrendered a chortle.
“Indeed I thought your description sounded familiar. I daresay I find myself astounded to hear William is still alive—”
Augum exchanged a glance with the girls. He’d have to tell her about his death too, though he didn’t want to break her fond reminiscence.
“I remember that adventure well,” Mrs. Stone went on. “We were indeed a fearsome trio—William Smith the Plotter, Jordan Winters the Prankster, and I, Anna Atticus Stone, the young, ambitious warlock. A little too ambitious, perhaps. Yes, we found a supposed dragon tooth, though everyone doubted its authenticity. Dragons, after all, were the stuff of children’s tales, and still are.”
