Valor (Book 3)

by Sever Bronny

Leera scoffed, taking a seat on the bed. “We’re warlocks, not bears.”

  “Let me go,” Augum hissed. There was a beating to attend to.

  Bridget only gripped him harder. “Stop it, what’s gotten into you?”

  “Some of us are warlocks,” Mr. Goss added. “My son and I are as ordinary as country pie.”

  Leland moaned.

  “What’s wrong with him, why he all melted?” the boy asked.

  “The Legion burned him with lightning.”

  “Oh. So he a freak now—”

  “—he isn’t a freak’!” Leera replied, scowling.

  “Well he don’t look right.”

  “Where is your family?” Mr. Goss asked.

  “They took Pops and my brother for them war. Wanted to get me but I hid with my sister. Mum’s around too. Hold on now. You there—shine that devil light on your face!”

  “Shyneo.” Augum raised his crackling palm.

  “Well I’ll be. I knows you! You’re that stupid gutterborn—”

  Augum surged forward, dragging Bridget right along. Something about the look on his face, perhaps combined with his lightning palm, made the boy’s face turn ashen.

  “Unnameables help me!” he squealed, almost climbing the wall to get away, his sister shrieking.

  “Aug, what are you—” Leera grabbed him too, but even with both girls holding him, there was an unquenchable inner fire that raged, giving him strength. It took Mr. Goss’ quick intervention to stay him.

  “My word, Augum, what in Sithesia is the matter, my dear boy?” Mr. Goss turned to the boy and girl. “I assure you, he is not like this usually.”

  Augum allowed himself to be withdrawn.

  “You know them, don’t you?” Bridget asked, holding one of his arms with both hands.

  “Buck Penderson and his sister Wyza,” Augum spat. Buck was the younger of the two Penderson brothers, but just as brutal.

  Buck relaxed and grinned. “So it is you. Got you some gutterborn courage since I last sees you.”

  “Please don’t use that kind of language,” Bridget said.

  Leera guffawed. “So you’re the demented loons!”

  “Now, Leera, let us not be rude,” Mr. Goss said, tentatively letting go of Augum, but remaining close by. “We must be cordial in the predicament we find ourselves in.”

  “But Mr. Goss, these are the kids who bullied Augum when he was a boy!” She took a step forward. “Let’s turn them into raccoons, or smear them into manure like what’s-his-face.”

  Wyza shrieked, struggling in her brother's arms. Mr. Goss held up his hands. “I assure you they jest—”

  “You stay back, keep that there devil light away,” Buck said to Leera. “Or I’ll smash my fist into your face and break them pretty teeth.”

  “Not before I shove you through that there wall without a face,” Augum quickly replied, not even realizing his voice had taken on the commoner twang Sir Westwood had take so much care in expunging.

  Mr. Goss cleared his throat. “Let us be civil. Settle down, everyone, settle down. May I ask how long you have been in this room?”

  “Must be twenty days and some now,” Buck replied after a tense silence, keeping his eyes on Augum. “Them savages done setup camp right here. Legion took most of our flock first, barbarians ate the rest. Mum’s been feeding us, workin’ for them savages in the mean. She don’t let us leave the house or talk to them.”

  Even the sound of Buck’s voice strained Augum’s nerves. He associated that vile twang with lies, curses, and more lies.

  “It’s you, you be the reason for this,” Wyza said, pointing a filthy finger at Augum. “You done been a curse to us since the first day your hag mother dumped you here.”

  Augum’s light flared. “You dare—” but he was stopped once again by the girls and Mr. Goss.

  One of the Henawa youths kicked the outside of the door, barking a shout.

  “We should be quiet,” Mr. Goss said, adjusting his spectacles. “Please, I implore civility. Augum, I am sure Buck and Wyza here have long grown out of their habits. And Buck, Wyza—I can personally testify what kind of boy Augum has become. You will hardly recognize him, I assure you.”

  Buck scoffed. “Fancy pants wordsies coming from a bunch of uglies.” His beady eyes returned to Augum. “So now you is even more wicked, a witch—”

  “Warlock,” Augum corrected. “And you’re just as stupid, I see.”

  “You grew some nerve, gutterborn. I sees I is going to have to fix that. Whatever you is, you done no good then and you done no good now. To me, you is as flea-bitten as the day you come.”

  Bridget squeezed Augum’s arm. “Now is not the time. Let me take over Shine, you rest your energy.”

  Still glaring at Buck, he nodded reluctantly, sat down beside Mrs. Stone, and extinguished his palm.

  “Shyneo,” Bridget said. The room filled with a soft green light as vine entwined around her hand. Wyza and Buck watched with stony faces. Bridget gave them a warm smile, but Buck only spit on the floor, his sister mimicking.

  Leera gave them a disgusted look before sitting beside Augum. “What do we do for food?”

  “I regret asking everyone to skip supper,” Mr. Goss said. “I am a hasty fool.”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Goss,” Bridget said. “How were you to know?”

  Augum took Mrs. Stone’s withered hand in his own. It was hot to the touch. Nonetheless, it calmed him. “How are you feeling, Nana?”

  Usually she’d open her eyes or squeeze his hand, but this time there was nothing.

  “I fear she is gravely ill,” Mr. Goss said. “We need a healer.”

  A sullen mood fell upon the group as they made themselves as comfortable as they could in the cold room … and waited for the morrow.

  The Henawa

  Augum shivered awake at the crow of a rooster, a sound he had not heard since living in Willowbrook with Sir Westwood. He blearily opened his eyes, finding himself on the dirty plank floor of a dusty room. Horizontal rays of sun pierced a shuttered window, daggering into the near wall. Mr. Goss slept beside him, his steady breathing sending up plumes of fog.

  Augum sat up, rubbing his elbows, sore from the planks. He spied Mrs. Stone asleep on the large bed, Bridget, Leera and Leland curled up beside her. Buck and Wyza lay on the far side of the room. Both looked terribly uncomfortable.

  Might be a good time to take a look around. He quietly got up and placed his ear to the door, hearing snoring. He turned the handle. It squeaked and the door popped open. The sound brought back memories of Mr. and Mrs. Penderson storming out of the room, throwing an insult or kick his way, before ordering him to get to work.

  Two of the Henawa youths lay asleep on the floor, covered in thick furs. Augum gathered his charred robes close and tiptoed around them, pushing through the front door.

  Outside, he squinted against a sharp sun floating in a spotless sky. The fire pit smoldered, the snow around it muddy and well trodden. Tall hide tents stood between the pit and the old mill. Skins hung on racks, drying. The air was still, the only sound the distant trickle of the Gander, the river he had followed to Willowbrook years ago.

  He spotted movement on the barn roof—it was the rooster, watching him. He wondered how it had survived everyone’s hunger.

  A heavy man pushed aside a tent flap, stepping out into the cold, milky chest bare. He burped and stretched. It was the chief, minus his bearskin. A moment later, a woman exited the tent. She had long auburn hair and wore a pale linen dress.

  Augum’s skin crawled. Mrs. Penderson …

  She picked up a handful of snow, washed her face, slipped on a pair of old turnshoes, and reached into the tent, removing a covered basket. She smacked the chief on the arm and said something sharp. The man groaned and disappeared inside the tent, emerging a moment later with all three of the trio’s Dramask wool blankets. Mrs. Penderson, who in the meantime had fixed up her hair, wordlessly yanked the blankets from him and proceeded to walk
Augum’s way.

  He stood there, watching her approach, wondering what he would say to her, feeling oddly calm. She came right up to him as if expecting him to be there after all this time. The sun had creased her face over the years, but her blue eyes sparkled as coldly as ever.

  “You.”

  Augum nodded at the blankets. “Those are ours.”

  She reared back, ready to deliver a vicious slap, the kind he was all too familiar with. But for the first time ever, he caught her arm and held it firm.

  “Never again,” he said, flexing his jaw.

  “You gutterborn wretch, this be all your fault,” she hissed, yanking her arm free. She glanced past him. “What you looking at, you little maggot?”

  “You old,” Ettan said, chewing on his finger.

  Mrs. Penderson spat on the ground before the boy. “I’d smack you too if your pappy wouldn't go on and scalp me for it.” Then she marched inside the house.

  Augum watched her go.

  “She no like you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.”

  “You has dirty face.” Ettan skipped off.

  “Wait, do you have any food?”

  Ettan stopped. “You gather.”

  “You mean I can hunt here?”

  The boy shrugged before skipping off again.

  “Can I at least borrow a bow or something—?” but Ettan was gone.

  Suddenly there were shouts from within the house. He ran back inside, jumping over the two Henawa youths, who were slow to get up, and raced into the bedroom, where he found Mrs. Penderson screaming at Mr. Goss and the girls.

  “—you done get out of my house, you filthy gutterborn—”

  She dropped her basket and started swinging wildly at Mr. Goss, who wore the startled expression of a man who had suddenly stepped on a wasp’s nest.

  Wyza ran over, feebly trying to stop her mother. “Ma! Ma don’t, they is witches, Ma—they is witches!”

  Mrs. Penderson recoiled as if stung. She grabbed Wyza by the arm and yanked her back. As thin as she looked, there was ferocity there stronger than mere muscle. She jabbed a finger in their direction. “You stay back or I’ll call them savages and have y’all scalped!” She snatched her basket, the Dramask blankets, and quickly withdrew into the corner.

  Mr. Goss drew on his spectacles. “Ah, you must be Mrs. Penderson, it is a real pleasure—”

  “You shut that gob and stay back, you hear? You ain’t got nothin’ to scalp but that don’t mean you don’t bleed like a stuck pig.”

  “Now Mrs. Penderson, I hardly think—”

  She whistled sharply and the two Henawa youths appeared.

  Mr. Goss held up his hands. “All right, all right, we are backing away, but we really mean no harm.”

  “You hang yonder and keep them mitts where I can see them.”

  “Really now, Mrs. Penderson, this is hardly necessary.”

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye while her children dug into the basket like a pack of hungry wolves.

  “That’s our food!” Leera said, watching them scarf down biscuit beef and dried apple slices.

  Bridget turned away. “Ignore it.”

  “Hell I will.” Leera raised her arm and beckoned. A dried apple flew out of the basket, much to the astonishment of the Pendersons.

  “Told you they is witches,” Wyza said as the three of them took ridiculous measures to hold the basket.

  “Next time it’ll be your eyeballs,” Leera said, handing the apple over to Bridget to give to Mrs. Stone.

  Mrs. Penderson held her children a little closer after that.

  The snow-skinned youths began conversing in Henawa, sometimes gesturing at the trio while using the words maniye and nuliwi numerous times.

  “Excuse me, but do you have something to eat?” Augum asked them. They gave him a blank look. He repeated his query while making the gesture to eat.

  “Spudi maniye,” one of the youths said to the other, who chuckled.

  The front door squeaked open and heavy boots thudded across the planks. Rogan the Conqueror sauntered in, sporting a great many scars across his bare chest. His long milky hair flowed down his back. A large necklace of bones and animal teeth hung around his neck. His son Ettan peaked out from behind his massive legs.

  The youths immediately stopped talking as Rogan looked around the room, sniffing the air like a bull.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Augum said, “but, do you have any food?”

  “You nuliwi. You make food with magic.”

  “That’s not how it works—” but Rogan was already talking sharply to the youths. They nodded before moving to stand in the hall.

  Mr. Goss gently cleared his throat. “Mr. Rogan, sir, we really do need to eat. My boy is hungry, and we have not eaten since yesterday afternoon.”

  Rogan glanced over at Leland sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, his scalp melted, eyes sightless. The man grunted before strolling over to Mrs. Penderson and yanking the basket out of her hands. She grabbed Buck and Wyza and wilted into the corner, baring her teeth at him but saying nothing. Rogan stared her before casually reaching into the basket and withdrawing smoked fish and a small jar of honey. He shoved the basket back at her before walking over to Leland, gently placing the fish and honey into the boy’s hands.

  Leland moaned.

  “It is all right, son,” Mr. Goss said. “The man is only giving you some food. Now what do we say when someone does us a kindness?”

  Leland moaned twice in succession. He then proceeded to share the honey and fish with their group.

  Rogan cocked his head slightly before turning to Mr. Goss, making a gesture to his own head. “First boy born slow. We leave him forest.”

  “We’d never do that,” Bridget said, placing Leland on her lap. “Ever.”

  Rogan grunted before aiming a steely-eyed gaze at Augum. “Go. Magic food.”

  Leera leaned close to Augum. “I think he means for you to go hunting.”

  Mr. Goss came between Rogan and Augum. “Good sir, I will hunt—”

  Rogan pushed Mr. Goss aside, pointing sternly at Augum. “No. Him. He prove he man. Hunt magic.”

  “Will you send us that shaman soon?” Augum asked.

  Rogan grunted. “Hunt first,” and turned to leave.

  “I’m coming too then,” Leera said. “I’m also a warlock.”

  Rogan stared at her a moment before giving a brief nod. He departed without another word.

  Augum wondered how they were going to accomplish this. He’d never hunted before using only arcanery.

  “I come,” Ettan said, still standing in the doorway.

  Augum shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I come or call Papa.”

  “Let him, maybe he can help,” Leera whispered.

  “Fine, but you have to promise to be careful.”

  Ettan shrugged.

  “Do you need me to come?” Bridget asked.

  “Probably best one of us warlocks stays behind,” Augum replied, flashing the Pendersons a distrustful look.

  Arcane Tricks

  When Augum and Leera stepped outside, a good many of the Henawa were out of their tents, their children already running about making noise. The men sharpened and repaired weapons, probably readying to go hunting, while the youths tended to the horses or sparred.

  Soon they were snatching glances of them. Mutterings of “nuliwi” and “maniye” abounded.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to linger,” Augum said under his breath.

  Leera nodded.

  They walked north, Ettan trailing, his little legs unable to propel him quicker over the waist-high snow.

  “I’m so hungry I can’t think straight,” Leera muttered.

  Augum’s own stomach felt canyon hollow, but he already associated the farm with starvation, so it was a familiar state to be in. “Let’s try the river.”

  They strode east, arriving at the partia
lly frozen river, one of his few sources of joy as a child. He remembered drifting down its lazy current in the summer, gazing at the sky, dreaming of a better life.

  Ettan watched a little ways back like a curious raccoon.

  Augum smiled at the boy, seeing himself crouching by the banks in the same way. “I used to play in this river all the time,” he said to Leera. “Learned to swim in it. Never thought I’d come back.”

  Leera thumbed at the house. “Bet you never thought you’d see them again either, or have to deal with a tribe of Henawa.”

  He snorted a laugh for the first time in what felt like months. “That’s true. I guess we’ve been in worse spots, haven’t we?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  They stared at the river together for a while, listening to its ceaseless gurgling, until an idea occurred to him.

  “Ettan, do the Henawa fish here?”

  The boy looked at him like he was stupid.

  “Never mind.” He turned back to the river. “Lee, you remember how we saved Bridget at the tower, right?”

  Leera gaped at him until recognition dawned on her freckled face. She smiled. “Are you thinking—”

  “—yes, exactly. The question is, alone or together?”

  “Let’s try alone first.”

  He took a tentative step out onto the ice at the edge of the river. He certainly couldn’t afford to fall into freezing water right now. The ice seemed to hold his first steps, so he ventured forth. The gap in the center was just over a foot wide. He straddled it. The ice here was thin but held.

  “Good luck,” Leera said.

  He looked down at the rushing water, conscious of Ettan watching nearby.

  Concentrate, he told himself. You can do this. He placed his palm over the water and waited. A few small fish zoomed past. At last, a larger one trawled along. He concentrated on Telekinesis, visualizing the fish in his hand. It panicked and slipped away from his arcane grip.

  “Never even heard of this before,” Leera said. “Arcane fishing … who would have thought.”

  Another large fish swam past but he missed again. “They’re too quick.”

  “Be quicker.”

  “You sound like Nana.”

  “I’m filling in for her.”