Valor (Book 3)

by Sever Bronny

  As worried as Augum was about Mrs. Stone and Haylee, he still managed to sleep better than he had in many days.

  Powerless

  Augum woke to the pitched beams whistling and creaking overhead. The shutters were open, allowing a clear view of swaying branches. A strong gust occasionally sent plumes of snow swirling past. Clouds had to be overhead because it was as gray as old stone. The scent of burning pine and tallow was in the air, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, the Endyear candle ever-present on the mantel.

  He heard the gentle clink of a cup coming to rest on a saucer and looked over to find Leland asleep at the table beside his father, who was mending the trio’s burgundy apprentice robes alongside Mr. Okeke, the pair quietly gossiping like a couple of old village hens.

  Leera was asleep beside Augum, her freckled face creased with pillow lines, while Bridget sat awake, back against the carved settee, knees covered with a blanket. Her eyes skimmed over the tiny hand-written text of the ornate pupil’s encyclopedia.

  She looked over at him, smiled, and whispered, “Morning, Aug.”

  “Morning.”

  “I’m going with you to that shop today.”

  “Good, we could use your help. Where’s Jengo?”

  Bridget checked over her shoulder before leaning closer. “His father insisted he go do business on his behalf today. There was a bit of a ruckus. Jengo really didn’t want to go.”

  “He wants Jengo to take up the iron trade.”

  “And poor Jengo wants to become a warlock.”

  “Without an academy or mentor though …” He drew the blanket to his face, not wanting to get up yet. It was just too cozy. He nodded at the book. “Learn anything new?”

  “Actually, yes—I’ve been reading up on 3rd degree spells.”

  “You think we’re ready to move on?”

  “Well, we’re still rusty with Slam and Disarm, but all we have to do is practice them regularly and we should be fine.”

  It was true—what with the Henawa adventure, they’ve hardly had time to practice. “Maybe Nana will test us on our 2nd degree soon.” He envisioned having two rings around his arm. It almost inspired him to jump out of bed and start casting Slam. He imagined the entire town waking up to the sound of thunder. “So what are the 3rd degree spells anyway?”

  Bridget flipped back a few pages. “Mind Armor, Object Alarm and Object Track.”

  “What do they do?” A hand suddenly smacked him in the face.

  “Oh, sorry,” Leera croaked, eyes puffy. She stretched and yawned like a cat. “What are you two planning without me?”

  “We’re just talking about 3rd degree spells.” Bridget listed them again.

  “Neat, so what do they do?” Leera drew her blanket up over her mouth.

  “Mind Armor defends you from all kinds of attacks of the mind—”

  “Like Fear and stuff?” Augum asked, remembering that harrowing moment Vion Rames made him so afraid he thought he had wet himself.

  “Exactly, but a lot of others too, like Deafness, Confusion, and so on. Object Alarm sets off an alarm in your head when someone other than you touches the enchanted object.”

  “That one’s definitely going to be useful,” Augum said. “Now I’ll know when Leera sneaks my food—” he cringed as the expected punch smacked him on the shoulder.

  “And Object Track,” Bridget continued, ignoring their shenanigans, “allows you to actually track where your enchanted object is.”

  Leera snorted. “Would have been useful when a certain somebody lost the pearl.”

  Augum turned to face Leera, whose half-hidden face barely concealed her grin. “Hey, we got it back, didn’t we?” he said.

  “Only because we got lucky.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.” He turned back to Bridget. “Have you checked on Haylee yet?”

  “Let me do that now.” Bridget set the tome aside and dug into the rucksack, withdrawing a tightly wrapped bundle. She hesitated. “I almost don’t want to look.”

  Augum sat up. “I’ll do it.”

  She placed the bundle into his hands and he carefully unwrapped it, clenching the pearl in his fist. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to see through the Orb of Orion, sitting on a pedestal in a dark room.

  Haylee hung in the same position as yesterday. A new candle sat before her, the only one lit in the room. His insides twisted seeing her like that.

  He listened for a time before whispering, “Haylee. Haylee, it’s me, Augum.”

  Her head stirred and she moaned.

  He cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was draw Erika into the room. “You have to be very, very quiet.” At least Mya had been spared from such torments. The thought made his skin burn though. He wanted to shout that they’d pay for what they’d done, all of them, especially Robin.

  “Hey, it’s all right,” he whispered instead, trying to keep his breathing calm.

  She looked up. “They … they killed them,” she blubbered, shoulders heaving silently. “Augum … they murdered my parents … my grandfather.”

  “Don’t think about that right now, think about anything else.”

  “I can’t feel my arms …”

  It was difficult seeing her like that. He hoped Mrs. Stone would return soon with a plan to save Haylee.

  “Augum …”

  “I’m here, Haylee.”

  “I don’t know how … how much longer I can last …”

  “Just stay strong, I promise we’ll get you out of there. You believe me, don’t you?”

  Haylee sniffed, but her head nodded just a tad.

  Suddenly there came the sound of clacking. Erika Scarson strolled into the room and immediately slapped Haylee across the face so hard her hair bounced.

  “I’m so sick and tired of hearing you whine all the time. ‘My parents are gone, ooh, my sweet parents’. Ugh. Why don’t you take it like a real woman and own up to your traitorous ways! You betrayed my nephew, didn’t you, you little blonde vermin? Hey, I’m talking to you!”

  She smacked Haylee again, but her body had gone limp. “Such a faker. You disgust me.” Suddenly Erika turned around, eyeing the Orb of Orion. “Is anyone in there? Anyone watching?”

  Augum didn’t dare say anything, else she might abuse Haylee some more just to get a rise out of him.

  Erika put her ear against the orb and listened, earrings jingling loudly. Back in Milham, Augum raised a single finger, indicating for everyone to be particularly quiet.

  After a time, she grunted and trounced off. He watched a while longer, desperately wanting to ask if Haylee was all right but not wanting to bring Erika back in the room. Perhaps, to prevent the violence, it was wiser not to talk to her. He kept watching Haylee for any sign of movement, but there was none.

  He withdrew from the orb and opened his eyes, shaking his head.

  “Aug? What happened?” Bridget asked quietly.

  He only kept shaking his head.

  “You don’t want to talk about it? Is she all right?”

  “She’s alive, but I don’t know how much more she can take.” At least he had spared Leera and Bridget from that awful sight.

  They sat together silently, heads bowed. The worst part of it was he felt completely helpless. There was nothing he could do except watch. He slowly wrapped up the pearl and shoved it deep into a pocket.

  Bridget shuffled over on her knees and hugged him. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Aug. Mrs. Stone will save her, you’ll see.”

  An ebony-skinned veined hand gently squeezed his shoulder just as Bridget let go. He looked up to find Mr. Okeke holding a steaming plate of eggs and bacon with a side of jam and bread. Augum hadn’t noticed the mouth-watering scent until now. Yet it almost made things worse, for Haylee was just on the other side of that pearl and she couldn’t share the joy of Endyear breakfast.

  “There is only so much we can change, Augum Stone,” Mr. Okeke said. He walked off to bring two more plates for the girls.
>
  “Thank you, Mr. Okeke,” Bridget said quietly.

  Mr. Okeke nodded. “Happy Endyear. Perhaps tonight the weather will be good enough for a Star Feast. I am sure Mrs. Stone and this poor young girl will join us.” He smiled at them.

  Augum ate his food, tasting nothing. When they finished, Bridget collected the plates and washed them in a basin, while Mr. Goss proudly returned their repaired apprentice robes.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Goss and Mr. Okeke,” Leera said, giving Augum a worried sidelong glance.

  “Since when did you get so polite?” Bridget asked, also giving Augum a sidelong glance.

  They needn’t worry about him like that. Augum snatched his robe and went to Jengo’s room to change. There he sat on the oversized bed, staring at a painting of a youthful ebony-skinned woman in dignified dress. Mrs. Okeke, who had died of sickness. He stared past the painting and thought of Nana. How were her studies going? Did she need help? He wished she’d teleport and scoop him up so he could do something useful, anything at all, to help free Haylee.

  “Hey Aug, you about ready to go to the shop?” Bridget delicately asked from the other side of the door.

  The shop. Suddenly that seemed like such a waste of time …

  “Aug?”

  “Yeah, be right there,” he finally said. He changed into his burgundy robes and neatly folded Jengo’s nightgown. Then he exited the room, dropping the nightgown off on his pillow, conscious of them staring at him. He made his way over to the door. “You two coming?”

  “Yes,” Leera said, “but you have to let us get changed!”

  They raced off to Jengo’s room.

  He waited by the front door, arms crossed, images of Haylee blackening his thoughts. It wasn’t fair she was going through all this. It wasn’t fair they murdered her family. There was so much unfairness it made his knuckles whiten.

  Leland moaned.

  “Not today, Leland, let us leave them to their adventures,” Mr. Goss said quietly.

  Augum felt worse. He should have said something, told Mr. Goss Leland was more than welcome to come along, but instead he remained silent, brooding.

  Bridget and Leera eventually popped out of Jengo’s room. “Ready!”

  Augum opened the front door and stepped out into the wind, letting the girls scramble after him.

  “Aug, you all right?” Leera asked, exchanging a tentative look with Bridget.

  “Fine.” He remembered Mya’s throat being sliced, the way she fell into his arms … so unfair. He should have loosed the Banyan beast on Robin when he had the chance. Why had he let him go?

  “You sure? Cause you don’t sound like it—”

  “I’m fine, all right, what do you want from me—!”

  The girls stopped.

  Leera gave him a pained smile. “Nothing, Aug, we just want to make sure you know we’re here for you. You know that, right?”

  He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

  “—you don’t even have to explain,” Bridget said, Leera nodding along.

  He looked at them, the pair standing side by side in the snow, the cold wind tearing at their hair and robes. “Don’t know how you two put up with me sometimes.”

  Leera shrugged. “Ugh, it’s incredibly difficult but we manage.”

  He smiled. “Come on then, we have a shopkeeper to talk to.”

  The Merchant, the Scribe

  A bell tinkled as the trio entered the Good Medicine shop, its swept planks creaking underfoot. Glass jars sat in neat rows on shelves, full of herbs, powders, insects in fluid, and other colorful concoctions. Animal figurines carved from various tusks and bones sat on two opposite windowsills.

  “What younglings want?” a voice called from the counter.

  Augum looked over to find an elderly Henawa standing there. At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but the man’s skin was as white as snow, his hair like milk. He wore a blue silk tunic. Golden bracelets clinked on his arms. His eyes had dark puffy bags underneath, his skin as wrinkled as wet parchment.

  “Chunchuha!” Augum blurted.

  The man’s snowy brows rose up his forehead. “How you know Henawa?”

  “Because we were just with the Henawa—”

  “You lie, maniye—you still have hair.”

  “Then how come I know that maniye means ‘dark skin’?”

  The man scowled. “Andava, you read mind. You nuliwi.”

  “Yes, we are nuliwi, sir, but we can’t read your mind.” Augum approached the counter with Bridget and Leera. “So how come you’re here and not with your tribe?”

  “You not see I old man? Henawa leave old, sick, injured to die. Keep tribe strong.”

  Come to think of it, Augum didn’t recall seeing any old Henawa back at the farm.

  “And I no ‘sir’. I no metal man. You know Henawa words for ‘honored elder’?”

  Augum shook his head.

  “Achishi Zafu. I sick. Tribe leave in wood. I survive. Come here. Have son. Make maniye coin. Now you buy or go.”

  “Please, Achishi Zafu, we just want to ask a question.”

  “You buy, I answer.”

  Augum turned to Bridget. “Do we even have any coin?” he whispered.

  Bridget shook her head.

  He glanced back to the old Henawa. “Will you barter?”

  “You show.”

  “We’ll be right back then.” The trio left the shop.

  “Not sure we have anything left to trade,” Bridget said as they paced back to the Okeke home.

  “Let’s just have a second look anyway.”

  “We better find something,” Leera said, “otherwise we might have to do chores for him.”

  When they entered, Mr. Goss and Mr. Okeke were in deep discussion about the intricacies of the iron trade, something Mr. Goss seemed to find riveting. The trio waved hello before taking stock of their inventory—arcaneology tome, burned yellow book on elements, and the Slam spell parchment.

  “Can’t trade any of this,” Bridget said, putting it back.

  Augum’s eyes travelled to a rustic pine side table on top of which sat the folded Dramask blankets they had acquired in Evergray Tower. He held one up, letting the fine striped wool unravel.

  “Yeah, but they’re so warm—” Bridget said, grimacing.

  “I think it’s worth it,” Leera said. She and Augum looked to Bridget, who finally surrendered a nod. He folded up the blanket and the trio returned to the shop.

  “Achishi Zafu, we have something to barter—” Augum stopped as a muscular Henawa youth of about sixteen turned his way, holding a muddy pickaxe in one hand. His round face scowled like the old man, but his hair, unlike any other Henawa Augum had seen, was cut short. This had to be the man’s son.

  “Hi there,” Augum said, approaching the counter.

  The youth scowled. “You call my father ‘Achishi Zafu’?” He had no accent whatsoever. “I’ve seen you with that stupid Sierran.” He spat on the floor before Augum.

  The old man immediately slapped the back of the boy’s head. “Spudi sapinchay!” and unleashed a string of Henawa curses while gesturing at the planks.

  The youth’s milky forehead reddened. “Fine already!” He glared at the trio as he took his time removing a dirty cloth from his loose coat. He dropped it to the floor and squished it about with his boot. He then kicked it up to his hand, as if having done the motion hundreds of times.

  “No respect,” the old man said, shaking his head.

  “Just croak already,” the youth muttered.

  Bridget gasped. “How could you, he’s your father!”

  The youth snorted. “Some father. Makes me work in the mine during Endyear.”

  The old man leaned forward on the counter, his face next to his son’s. “Henawa no celebrate maniye nuliwi! You want shop when father die, you listen. You work.”

  The youth grimaced. “I’m Solian, not just Henawa! I’ve never even seen other Henawa before—”r />
  The old man pointed at his son’s snowy skin. “You sapinchay! Henawa forever!”

  “The Henawa are weak and useless barbarians. All they do is chase deer, sit around a fire and grow fat! I’m sick of this!” The youth barreled past them and stormed out the door.

  “Chaska, listen to Father—!” but Chaska was already gone.

  The old Henawa closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. His gaze fell back on the trio. “What maniye want!”

  Augum held up the Dramask blanket. “Achishi Zafu, we’ve come to barter for information. We would like to know where to find the Occi.”

  The old man’s face darkened. He raised his chin, looking down on them in an appraising manner. “You wish death, maniye?”

  “Of course not,” Leera said. “We can take care of ourselves. We have someone helping us.”

  “Andava maniye,” the old man muttered, shaking his head. He leaned closer, making a dismissive gesture at the blanket. “You say you see Henawa. Son no listen to me. You make son believe Henawa proud. You make son know Henawa brave. You teach him this, I help you, maniye.”

  “But how are we supposed to do that?” Augum asked. “We’re not Henawa.”

  “You see Henawa, you know Henawa. You do this for Achishi Zafu.”

  The trio left the shop with slumped shoulders. Augum rubbed his face as the wind whistled through the branches. Not only was Chaska a couple years older than them, he was rude and he was an enemy of their new friend, Jengo. How in all of Sithesia were they going to convince that youth, who had never seen another Henawa before, to even listen to them? And who were they to even tell a Henawa what the Henawa were like! They were only among them for a few days!

  Leera rubbed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe there’s some other way to find the Occi …”

  “We could just wait until one of them comes to trade,” Augum said.

  “So you’re saying you’d like waiting for, oh, I don’t know, forever?”

  Bridget gathered her robe close. “Why don’t we just talk to Chaska?”

  Leera threw up her hands. “And say what? ‘Oh, hey there, we just thought we’d swing by to tell you about your people. They’re so proud and brave.’ Yeah, I’m sure he’d warm up to us right away.”