by Sever Bronny
Augum then told her everything that happened with the witch’s poem and Hangman’s Rock, including smashing the supposed dragon tooth and passing a message on to her via the witch.
“So doesn’t that prove dragons were once real?” he asked.
“I am in the dark in this matter as much as you. Yes, once in a while a mysterious skull would turn up, but it was always dismissed as some sort of ancient creature long extinct, anything but a dragon. Who is to say that this supposed dragon tooth was not itself something even the witch mistook?”
He had to acknowledge she might be right, but it was too tempting to believe the tooth was real.
“Witches are the main reason the common folk fear arcanery,” Mrs. Stone continued. “They are the source of much superstition. I shudder to think how many died from false accusations. A good number of spell words are said to have their origin in their ancient tongue, and thus a great amount of knowledge has been exiled from places of learning due to their influence. Legend says that in olden times, witches would snatch unprotected children in the night, dragging them to hell.”
“Mother used to scare me with stories like that when I misbehaved,” Leera said.
“Didn’t seem to work,” Bridget said with a sly smile.
“Everyone has heard the tales. Witches communicate with that terrible plane, so far removed from Ley. Necromancy, too, draws its power from the same well, and so we should be wary of any such interactions. Though it is said when Occulus fell, the witches lost a lot of their power and it was safe to travel the night again.”
“But witches do exist, just like Ley exists,” Augum said. “Does that mean Hell exists too?”
Mrs. Stone paused a moment. “That is a word assigned by millennia of contradictory beliefs, but behind the word lie ancient arcane stories, stories lost to mortal time. All I can definitively say is that, if it exists, there is much we do not understand of Hell, as there is little we understand of Ley.”
“So I guess hellhounds actually could come from Hell …” Leera said.
Mrs. Stone fought of a wracking cough. “Mercy, I fear I may be coming down with something.”
“I’ll make tea,” Bridget said, placing snow in a kettle before setting it over the fire.
“Thank you, my dear. Now, in old mythology, all things ugly come from Hell, and all things beautiful from Ley. A rather simplistic view, but that is why it is myth. Whatever kind of plane it is, Hell has always been a great source of power for witches and necromancy. Consider yourself lucky, Augum. Many a man has fallen prey to a misspoken word when performing a witch’s spell.”
She patted his hand. “Do not concern yourself so, great-grandson. Real or not, what is important is that we are alive and together.”
“Not all of us,” he blurted.
She watched him a moment. “You have all witnessed more than your fair share of death. I wish it were not so, but we live in turbulent times.” She glanced skyward. The clouds snailed along, darkening with the night. “When my strength returns, we shall perform a memorial ceremony.”
They sat a little while, watching the flames ebb.
Augum stirred the fire. “I should tell you about what happened to One Eye, Nana,” and at last, he recounted the events that unfolded after the Legion had showed up at the caravan. “… and in the end, One Eye sacrificed himself for us. He said … he said to tell you that he was sorry and … and grateful.”
Mrs. Stone let silence pass before replying. “Sorry and grateful … well, he is quite forgiven, that I assure you. You see, when we were young—that is, before I met Thomas—we were … an item, if you want to call it that—”
Bridget and Leera exchanged blushing looks.
“—that was all a very long time ago, mind you. Anyhow, many years passed when I received word that William Smith had become an Arcaner. Arcaners are warlocks devoted to the old ways of chivalry and honorable arcane combat, ways that have almost gone extinct with such ruthless foes as Attyla the Mighty, Occulus, Narsus, Lividius, and others throughout history. One could say they are the knight version of the warlock. Unfortunately, there is little room for honor in this day and age. Yes, William was noble, great and honorable. I am content for him. Surely he would have said it was a good death.”
After another long silence, Augum finally drew up the courage to ask what’s been nagging him for some time. “Nana, why did so many sacrifice themselves for us?”
She coughed again, harder this time. He reached out to steady her but she waved him off. “For hope, Augum, hope. Remember these words—sacrifice for the good of all is the greatest strength of the benevolent—and the greatest enemy of the selfish. No one fights the Legion in Solia—no one. And why is that so? Because the threat comes from within. When the Tiberrans invaded hundreds of years ago, the king rallied the common folk to protect Solia. The same happened when the Canterrans and Nodians invaded, and they have invaded scores of times. That is why we have the Spears.”
“Spears?” Augum asked.
“Eastspear Castle, now in ruins, erected to defend against Tiberra. Southspear, to defend against Nodia, and so on. Throughout history, there has always been great opposition to foreign powers.” She placed her blue-eyed gaze upon him. “People need hope to survive. No one has stood up to the Legion and declared with a loud voice, ‘We are sick and tired and cannot take it anymore!’ ”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Stone,” Mr. Goss began, “but what about the might of Tiberra? Or Nodia, or Sierra? Could they not come to our aid?”
“These kingdoms are indeed powerful, Albert, but I fear they are not nearly powerful enough. Warlord necromancers have come and gone through all of history, leaving behind a trail of destruction, and most have not come from Solia. Attyla the Mighty was Canterran, for example. What we are witnessing is but the beginning of an old cycle. As we speak, Lividius builds, albeit slowly, an army enhanced by the might of Dreadnought steel, and once he masters the necromantic path, he will have armies of undead as well—walkers, wraiths, revenants, and creatures we cannot yet fathom. Then of course, there are the scions … artifacts the previous Dreadnought lords did not possess. Yes, I am afraid it has only just begun …”
These words sent everyone into more thoughtful reflection. At last, the fire smoldering low in the crisp air, Bridget perked up. “Mrs. Stone, we also overheard the Lord of the Legion say exactly why he had raised Atrius Arinthian—so that he could kill him again and take the choice to command the Dreadnoughts.”
“Ah, of course! Had I the wherewithal to foresee such a thing I would have hidden Arinthian’s body.” She grimaced. “Hmm, to raise someone that has been dead for fifteen hundred years is quite the feat of necromancy. I daresay Lividius has grown in power. Once he learns how to use the scions, he will be fearsome to behold indeed.”
“Father also told me he was once Narsus’ apprentice,” Augum said.
“I must confess that I have long suspected some kind of secret tutelage. It would account for his knowledge in the necromantic discipline. No book can compare to a competent mentor. I should not be surprised it was with one of my greatest foes.”
Bridget handed her a cup of steaming tea. “Mrs. Stone, what happened with the Seers?”
”I did not know what to expect when I first arrived in the mountain city of Semadon. It had been a long journey and I was woefully tired. Having never been there before, I had to undergo the trek by foot and mule, unable to teleport myself further than Antioc. Thankfully, the mountain monks were quite hospitable. They even seemed to know who I was, yet mercifully took little regard.
“After a grand feast, I was guided high up a sacred mountain the monks referred to as Chomolagma, which I believe translates to The Great Mountain in the Sky. Halfway up this enormous mountain—and mind you it indeed was the largest mountain I have ever laid eyes upon—sat the monastery of the Seers, an ancient order of soothsaying mountain monks. After much ceremony, we meditated and fasted in silence for many days on end. After all
that, they allowed me to ask a single question. One gets a single question per lifetime, so I took great care in its wording. I expect you already know which question it was that I asked.”
“How to defeat my father,” Augum replied.
“Quite correct. I received a troubling and cryptic answer to this great question, one that will take me some time to digest—one I will not share,” she added after seeing the hopeful looks on their faces. “The Unnameables know you have enough to worry about. I do know we must find Occulus’ castle, for inside that castle lies an ancient recipe long thought lost to mortals—”
“—are you talking about the one that builds a portal to Ley without the need of a scion, Mrs. Stone?” Leera asked. “Magua told us about it—”
Mrs. Stone’s brows furrowed. “Magua spoke of it, did she?”
“She did, and we all thought it was strange that she said something like that to us. It kind of breaks their vow, doesn’t it?”
“Magua …” Mrs. Stone took a sip of tea, brows knotted in thought. “Interesting. Regardless, I am quite certain Lividius was already aware of this recipe’s existence. Aside from my scion, that recipe is Lividius’ only hope of a bridge to Ley. We must find it before he does. Now incidentally, it was shortly after my meeting with the Seers that I received a most peculiar message—” she glanced to Augum, “—a message from, if I am not mistaken, a witch. I remember her words well. ‘A price extracted for a message delivered,’ and then I heard your voice, Augum. I departed immediately—and not a moment too soon, for apparently Lividius and his men reached the monastery thereafter. I must confess I am curious as to what price the witch extracted—”
“She took my arcanery,” Augum said, watching the flames. “Ms. Jenkins gave it back at the cost of her life.” How many was that now that gave their lives for them? Thomas Stone. William One Eye Smith. Ms. Jenkins. Three precious lives. Countless years gone, for what?
“Ms. Jenkins healed our wounds too, Aug,” Leera said. “When they took us to the other tent without you.”
“Then this Ms. Jenkins was a worthy healer,” Mrs. Stone said.
“But how did you know to save Mr. Goss and Leland, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget asked.
“When I came upon the camp at Hangman’s Rock, I took it upon myself to conduct surveillance. It was then I overheard that soldiers had ridden south to find Leland and his father. Judging that the encounter between the camp and I could wait, I hastily teleported to Sparrow’s Perch.”
“Mrs. Stone arrived just in time,” Mr. Goss said. “The Blade of Sorrows had captured us, intending on returning to Hangman’s Rock—but they certainly were no match for Mrs. Stone’s arcanery. What an incredible show of strength, I tell you.”
Leland moaned, making a grand explosive gesture.
“Once the villains had been dispatched,” Mr. Goss went on, “she kindly escorted us to the abandoned cabin nearby. We are eternally in debt to her, are we not, Leland?”
Leland moaned.
Mrs. Stone gave the Goss’ a kind smile. “That is quite a tired boy.”
“Yes, I would say it is almost bedtime.”
“Then what happened, Mrs. Stone?” Leera asked.
“I returned to confront Lividius and the problem of your confinement.” Her eyes wandered over their charred and bloody robes. “The delay was not without a price, but that price was paid triple by Lividius’ men.”
“You mean Axon Company—” Augum said, remembering the very late arrival of two hundred men, once destined for Tiberra. He wondered if what happened would affect any outcomes in the war.
“I am afraid I am not familiar with the various names of Legion companies and battalions.”
“It’s just that I overheard them talking about their strategy. Axon company was supposed to go to Tiberra and join up with …” He searched his mind for the names of the other companies. “Wolfpack, Comborai, Malfease, and Nordika …”
“Ah, we have an aspiring general amongst our ranks!” Mr. Goss said, eyes sparkling behind his spectacles.
“When I recover my arcane stamina, I will teleport to Tiberra and pass along the information you have told me. I am sure their generals will find it useful. I must try to help them resist, though I fear they will not take a foreigner’s advice with great humor. The Tiberrans, as welcoming and kind as they are, tend to rely on their own intelligence for solutions to great problems. Perhaps as all kingdoms do.”
“So you’ve been to Tiberra, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget asked. “What is it like?”
“Many times. Their people are warm, friendly, and rich with tradition. Their academy is older than ours, but the essential arcanery is the same. More of their commoners read and write than ours. As a result, there are more warlocks.”
Augum fingered the bright blanket wrapped around him. “Have you been to Dramask then?”
“Oh, indeed. The first time I went I was but a young warlock fresh out of the academy. It is a market paradise with rich and earthy foods. They make wonderful thread, spices, and love the sea. There are as many flavors of tea as there are grains of sand. One day, perhaps, I will take you all there.”
Leera passed around more cups of tea. Augum took a mug, thoughts drifting to Sparrow’s Perch.
“What happened to the Blade of Sorrows, Nana?” He wondered if he’d ever see him again. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Commander Tridian lay frozen stiff in the forest …
“I am not sure. Had I known what he put you through beforehand, I might have paid more attention to him at the time. As it was, I recall striking the commander with a bolt of lightning, but that is all. Now, whether he lived or died—”
“—he lived,” Augum said, shoulders slumping. “He sent a message to warn the camp about you, using a speaking orb. And I didn’t find him in Sparrow’s Perch.”
Mrs. Stone sighed, adjusting the gold fringes of her once-white robe. “I have a question for you now, Great-grandson.”
He stiffened, fearing a scolding of some kind.
“You mentioned the Orb of Orion was left back at Hangman’s Rock—”
“—that was my fault, Mrs. Stone!” Bridget said, lowering her tea. “I could have grabbed it but—”
Mrs. Stone merely held up a hand, staying her protestations. “Allow me to tell you a story. The Orb of Orion was stolen twice in my lifetime. The first time I shall speak of in a moment, the second happened much later, while I was headmistress of the academy. I assure you it was quite the scandal. Suspicion fell on an Erika Scarson, though her family had the wealth to effectively silence the disciplinary council. I always knew she had stolen the orb, though I could not prove it. Thus, with the urging of my peers, I let the matter drop.” She gave Augum a piercing look. “Now as I understand it, you have what you call a ‘pearl’, is that correct?”
“I have it here, Mrs. Stone,” Leera said, digging it out of her robe pocket and handing it to her.
Augum wondered if they were in some kind of trouble. One Eye said the orb had been gifted to the Academy of Arcane Arts upon its founding a thousand years ago, and urged its return as soon as possible.
“Remarkable,” Mrs. Stone whispered, examining the engraved pearl closely before closing her eyes in concentration. When she opened them again, her withered face creased with sadness. “The scene of battle still smokes. All is quiet.”
Augum had a vision of Mya lying in the snow, alone and cold in the night. He hid his face, battling his feelings.
“Now let me tell you about the first time the Orb of Orion was stolen,” Mrs. Stone continued. “When I was not much older than you lot, William, or One Eye as you know him, stole it from the academy—”
Augum looked up to share a secret look with Leera and Bridget, remembering this very story told from One Eye’s perspective, how Mrs. Stone gave William a tongue-lashing before trying to crack the orb’s secrets herself. Later, when they got caught, Mrs. Stone and her two friends received an academy record for the longest detention—almost a whole year.
> “—back then the theft caused quite a stir,” Mrs. Stone went on, eyes twinkling merrily, “and I feared our expulsion, so naturally I was going to give the orb right back. Before I did, however, I spent a few hours trying to understand its secrets—”
Augum couldn’t help but smile knowing—from One Eye’s version of the tale—that Mrs. Stone actually spent days with the orb.
“It was fabled that the Orb of Orion had the power to summon dragons, which I and everyone else thought nothing short of myth. So I gave it my all—and you could say that in my day, I was a rather advanced student—yet I failed to penetrate the orb’s secrets. I understand now why I failed, but do you?”
She searched their faces, yet Augum and the girls drew blank looks. She smiled and slowly held up the pearl. “I failed because of this. When William stole the orb, he did not know there was a controlling pearl. Interestingly enough, when I became headmistress of the academy, there was no pearl then either. In fact I was not even aware of its existence until today. However, now that we are in possession of it, perhaps I may be able to spend some time studying the orb in detail, though without the orb itself, this may prove difficult. So allow me to consign it back to your care with the following duty—” She ceremoniously handed the ancient pearl back into Leera’s reverently cupped hands. “You are to monitor the Legion to our advantage. But be warned—do not let them discover its nature, nor hear you speaking, because, as I now understand it, it is possible to listen through from the other end, is that not so?”
Augum and the girls nodded solemnly.
“Now what is interesting to me,” Mrs. Stone began, steepling her fingers and looking scandalously at them all, “is if we did not have the pearl back when I and my friends burrowed the orb, then who did? And did they listen in on us all the while?” Her lips curved in a smile as she let everyone enjoy the little mystery. Discussion ensued as to the possible suspects, from the academy headmaster of the day, to the king, to a powerful sorcerer—or perhaps no one had been listening because the pearl was lost at the time. And just how did Erika come to possess it?
