by Sever Bronny
He poured himself a cup of tea. “Nana, can I ask you something?”
“Mmm?”
“Why are you taking us with you?”
“I have not decided who I am taking with me as of yet, in point of fact, but I suspect I will not have to. First, however, I shall conduct a memorial ceremony. The Unnameables know how much death you have all endured. Then I shall explain the dangers that lie ahead. Those that still desire to join me may do so.”
“Even … Leland?” he whispered.
“Sometimes those that seem to have the least power or strength actually have the most.” She glanced at him. “Did you not want to go, is that it?”
“No, it’s not that at all, I know for sure Bridget, Leera and I want to go, it’s just that—well, we’re not … we’re not very powerful.”
“Is that so?” Her chin rose. “Never underestimate the power of friendship.”
“But friendship can’t stop a fireball or a giant elemental—”
She leaned forward a little. “Oh, but it can.” She watched him struggle with the idea before straightening. “That aside, there is a link between you and your father, a link that I believe you may be able to exploit in due time.”
“What kind of link?”
“Your mother. She is the only person he truly cared for. I suspect some of what he loved in her he sees in you. If you understand that link, you may be able to save many lives.”
“You think he’d listen to anything I say?”
“That I do not know.” She paused to reflect. “What I do know is that although there is great danger in the coming journey, there is also great opportunity. I taught at the Academy of Arcane Arts for thirty-five years. Never have I witnessed three apprentices develop as quickly as you, Bridget and Leera. Why do you think that is so?”
“I don’t know …”
“Do you think it is because you are blessed somehow, or destined for greatness, is that it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s because we’re learning outside the classroom.”
She raised a finger. “Precisely.” She flipped to the beginning of the tome and read. “ ‘For it has been found, through considerable loss and considerable triumph, that those bold souls who train by the side of their mentors, outside of rooms or walls, upon the trails, mountains and plains of the land, with willful spirits and daring hearts, ascend the greatest heights in arcanery’.”
That’s what Jengo was talking about, he recalled.
“Opportunity for growth, Great-grandson. You are learning much, but you still have much more to learn before you are ready to face your father. In all of Sithesia, I believe you may perhaps be the only person able to stop him. If there is even a chance of that, I believe it worth the risks.” She leaned toward him a little. “Do you take my meaning?”
He blinked. “Yes, Nana.” In point of fact, he didn’t. Him, stop the Lord of the Legion? Yes, the man was his father, but he was still a 20th degree warlock with three scions and the might of the Dreadnoughts behind him. Perhaps Nana had a little too much faith in him …
Suddenly he remembered holding a dying old man in his arms. “Great-grandfather’s last words …! He said something to me, something about how one day I’ll face my father, that the meeting will be a ‘mirror of my fears’. He told me to train hard. Then, just before he died, he said ‘it has been this way for eons’, and, ‘the blood of kin can …’ ” He looked into her eyes. “What did he mean, Nana? The blood of kin can what?”
“Thomas was my husband, yet he was also Leyan, and Leyans are privy to information we ordinary mortals are not. Nonetheless, that last line rings with familiarity. Let me see if I can recall where it is from.” She closed her eyes in concentration. “Ah, ‘When thy fallen can’t be slain, when lion children rise again, when fires burn from east to west, blood of kin can vanquish death’.” She opened her eyes. “It is an ancient witch poem from the time of Attyla the Mighty. Some call it prophecy. Others say it was merely a testament to history long passed. I lean toward the latter. Our beliefs become reality, even if we have to delude ourselves to make them true.”
Augum committed the poem to memory. They sat in silence for a time, drinking tea.
“Do you think we’ll find Bahbell?” he eventually asked.
“I am afraid we must. If Lividius finds that recipe and creates a portal to Ley … well, let us just say that our odds of stopping him dramatically decrease.”
“Huan said Bahbell meant ‘gateway to hell’. He also said the Occi might know where it is.”
“Is that so?” She steepled her fingers. “Legend says the Occi are the descendants of Occulus himself. They live high up in the Muranians and guard their location well. Finding them will be tricky, for few that have seen them lived to tell the tale.”
And what makes us any different? Augum thought. He trusted Nana though, trusted her to keep them safe.
“And what do we do with her?” he asked, nodding at Jengo’s door.
“She is dangerous. I shall have to teleport her to a Dramask prison.”
He recalled the way Erika had slapped him three times, each time yanking his jaw so that he stared into her eyes as she did it again. “There’s something … very wrong with her.”
“What does it say of you that you can see that?”
He stared, having no response.
Mrs. Stone closed the tome. “On to other matters then. How comfortable do the three of you feel with regards to your 2nd degree?”
“Very comfortable, I guess.”
“Do you believe yourselves ready to move on to the 3rd degree?”
“Yes, oh, of course yes!”
“So be it. I think it prudent we do some training before we go then.”
“Does that mean you will be testing us on our 2nd degree?”
“If there is time. Now if you think I will go easy on you because of the circumstance—”
“—I would be sorely mistaken … I know, Nana.”
She watched him a moment, a slight smile curving her lips. “Correct. I expect you to work hard, Augum, for the spells become increasingly more difficult from here on. You will have to concentrate and help as much as you can. One day, you may find yourself the leader of many people. They will look up to you. They will follow your example.”
Yet again, a hint at him becoming some great leader. Has everyone lost their mind? What did he know of leadership?
Mrs. Stone’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What lies ahead will be far more dangerous than anything we have done thus far. Prepare yourself.”
He nodded and took a sip of tea. The cup trembled slightly in his hand.
“Now how about you tell me all about the Star Feast …”
He was more than happy to, going through the night in great detail—except for the dancing part—that he wanted to keep to himself.
Mr. Goss, Mr. Okeke, Leland, Bridget, Leera and Jengo eventually roused and groggily made their way over to the table, all still wearing their nightgowns—except for Mr. Okeke, who changed into red hose and a gold and blue tunic belted in the middle, explaining he needed to do some accounting of his iron ore business today. He, Jengo and Bridget worked together in the kitchen to make sunny eggs, leftover potatoes, and spiced leek soup.
Augum and Leera shared a single secret look before breaking out in grins. It was then he knew things wouldn’t get weird or anything. Yet he still wished they had kissed …
Much of the conversation was about the Star Feast of course. Bridget and Leera talked about the dancing, dress and music while Augum and Jengo mostly reminisced about the games.
“Oh, we’re so sorry you missed it, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said in a dreamy voice, “You would have loved it.”
“I daresay a few too many Star Feast memories cram this old mind already.” Mrs. Stone glanced around at them. “I never did have a chance to commend you all for your outstanding work at the Penderson farm with the Henawa.”
The trio blushed.
�
�I am proud of you. It was a difficult situation yet you managed it well.”
“We can’t take all the credit, Nana,” Augum said. “Mr. Ordrid the healer saved you.”
“And Augum saved the healer,” Bridget said.
“Mr. Penderson too,” Leera added. “After revealing his sca—”
“—I got lucky,” Augum interrupted. “We all did our part though. Those ingredients didn’t find themselves.” He was uncomfortable talking about his scars, especially in front of Nana.
“It was a marvelous and frantic hunt,” Mr. Goss said, and he went on a boastful and rather exaggerated retelling of the trio’s exploits in those final moments before Mrs. Stone was awakened.
“I wish I could have been there,” Jengo said, removing the empty plates with Bridget and Augum’s help.
“It wasn’t as fun as Mr. Goss made it out to sound,” Leera muttered.
Jengo shrugged. “Well, probably good I wasn’t there after all then. I’m sure I would have died a horrible death in that vortex.”
Mr. Okeke stood and smoothed his clothes. “Please, Mrs. Stone, if there is anything I can do to help you gather those supplies, do let me know. Good day to you all.” He put on his coat and departed.
Leera looked confused. “Supplies? For what?”
“I should think for the journey ahead, child.”
Bridget and Augum exchanged amused looks.
“Oh, shut up,” Leera hissed.
“Jengo Okeke, you wish to do some training,” Mrs. Stone said.
The tall ebony-skinned Sierran gave a quick bow. “Yes, Mrs. Stone, very much so.”
“Please understand my priorities lie with those that are serious in the arcane discipline.”
“I’m serious, Mrs. Stone. I would do anything—”
“Anything? Is that truly so, child?”
“Well, no, not anything I suppose … I don’t … I don’t want to die … or get hurt.” He swallowed. “I mean …”
Mrs. Stone merely observed him.
“I’m … I’m just afraid—” Jengo blurted.
“You are afraid.”
Jengo examined the plank floor, searching his mind. “I can’t leave my father and my future wife. Maybe … maybe I can learn arcanery here on my own.”
“Train wild—?” Bridget asked.
“No, that’s not what I meant … well, if I had to, yes, but I was rather hoping to find a mentor that would be willing to train a whole bunch of us here in town, either that or find a book—” he nodded at the arcaneology tome sitting nearby, “like that one.”
Mrs. Stone turned to Leland. “My dear child, do you still wish to become a warlock?”
Leland moaned loudly and gave an emphatic nod.
“Mrs. Stone, I have been giving the matter some thought,” Mr. Goss said, pushing at his nose. “I am not sure it is wise to take us along with you on this dangerous journey. Shh, Leland, let your father speak. Now as I was saying, I was thinking it would be better for us to stay here in Milham.” Mr. Goss pinched his son’s good cheek, the one with the dimple in it. He turned back to Mrs. Stone. “Perhaps I could find work as a chandler again, that way I can put a roof over our head. I also need to spend time teaching Leland how to write without … without seeing his writing. And of course, all spare monies will go to pay for a mentor.”
Leland moaned as Bridget scooped him up in her arms. “There now, little Lee, it’ll be all right, don’t you worry …”
“You are father to a boy with many challenges ahead, Mr. Goss,” Mrs. Stone said. “I support any decisions you make.”
“Thank you kindly, Mrs. Stone, and I very much appreciate the opportunity for adventure, but I must think of my son. Besides—” He smiled at Augum and Leera. “I know that I would slow you all down.”
The trio made a show of protest, but Mr. Goss’ smile only widened.
“My father and I will do everything in our power to help you and Leland, Mr. Goss,” Jengo said. He crouched down beside the disappointed little tyke. “Maybe we can even train side-by-side, huh? Would you like that, Leland?”
Leland gave a reluctant nod.
“It’s really for the best,” Bridget whispered, giving the boy a delicate squeeze.
“Thank you so much, Jengo,” Mr. Goss said. “We are most grateful.”
Mrs. Stone used her staff to help her stand. She walked over to Haylee, laying a glowing palm on her forehead. Haylee’s swollen eyes slowly opened. Her cheeks were bruised, hair matted with blood and dirt.
“Bridget, a cloth, if you will.”
Bridget hastened to wet the cloth Jengo provided and hurried over. She gently dabbed at Haylee’s face.
“Where am I?” Haylee’s voice was weak.
“You are in the Okeke home, in the town of Milham, far to the east,” Mrs. Stone replied quietly.
Haylee gaped a moment before closing her eyes tight, as if burdened by awful memories.
Mrs. Stone placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You are safe now, my child. Think on nothing. You have been through much.”
Haylee’s brows crossed and she winced. She hid her face under the blanket, shoulders heaving.
“Jengo, perhaps some soup might help.”
“Of course, Mrs. Stone.” He reset the pot over the fire.
“She shall require much rest and care,” Mrs. Stone said.
“I’ll help her wash and change,” Bridget said.
“Good.” Mrs. Stone watched Haylee another moment before standing. “Now, a warlock must learn how to pay their way with their craft. Therefore, Augum, Bridget and Leera—I would like you all to come up with ways to raise money using nothing but your arcanery. We will buy supplies with the coin you earn and leave the remaining for the care of the needy.”
Bridget beamed while Leera scowled, muttering, “I hate chores …” Augum, on the other hand, thought it was a really good idea.
“I am sure I need not remind you discretion is essential. In the meantime, I will teleport Ms. Scarson to an arcane prison in Dramask. There I shall also discover the latest news and see if I can provide my arcane services to have a new pair of spectacles ground for Mr. Goss.”
“Thank you so very much, Mrs. Stone, I really do not know what to say.”
“No need to say anything, Albert.” She glanced to the trio. “And later, I shall teleport you to a special location for new training.”
They exchanged excited looks.
“If all goes well, maybe we can depart by New Year’s day.” She gave Haylee another pat before standing, allowing Bridget to take her place. “Good luck to you all.”
“And you, Mrs. Stone,” Jengo said as she paced to his room, closing the door behind her. There was a momentary struggle and an implosive sucking sound, then silence.
Leera groaned. “Time to get changed and start earning …”
Work and Sorrow
It was a cloudless sunny day outside, the snow sparkling as it caught the light. Evergreen boughs wilted under the weight of frost, the occasional clump of snow cascading down from up high. A cold wind tickled the tops of the trees, filling the forest with gentle swooshing sounds.
Augum, Bridget and Leera had agreed to split up as they searched for ways to make coin, thinking to use Repair and Telekinesis, and sometimes Unconceal. Jengo volunteered to stay behind and care for Haylee, along with Mr. Goss. Leland wanted to come but was forbidden by his father, who felt the trio needed to focus on the task at hand. The boy moped in the Okeke home, pawing at some animal figurines Jengo had given him.
As they neared the center of town, they heard the sounds of children playing. A series of Endyear games and activities had been setup for the very young, with the adults supervising and managing the events. Many elders also took part. There was a hoop game, a horseshoe game, a throwing target game, and games of Old Man Mule and Piggy Run.
“I have an idea—” Bridget said when she saw the merry display. She ran off to the Okeke home, quickly returning
with Mr. Goss and Leland.
Hanad Haroun joined the group. “Hello there, honored guests!” he said, arms wide in welcome. He was dressed in a very colorful women’s frock and seemed to have been pelted with snow. A voluminous orange wig straddled his head awkwardly.
Mr. Goss chortled. “Oh, dear me, Mr. Haroun, I see the children have taken great advantage of the town elder.”
“Yes, I am afraid they have. It is tradition in Milham to have the elder council member degrade himself with the younglings in a most unseemly fashion.” A snowball smacked into the back of his neck, and a young child with chocolate skin raced off, chased by his parent.
“My my, now that is quite cold,” Mr. Haroun said, squiggling about while the trio snickered. “And hello there, who is this?” He bent down before Leland, who hid behind his father.
“This is my son, Leland.”
“Ah, Leland. A fine name. Well, Leland, how would you like to play some games with the other children?”
Leland moaned uncertainly.
“Don’t worry, your father will be by your side the entire time. Now are you ready? Come along then!”
“Good luck, you three!” Mr. Goss called as he trailed his son and Mr. Haroun, the three of them waddling along to Leland’s clumsy steps.
“Wish I was that young again,” Leera muttered, watching a tiny girl plow into a snowman and bursting with loud crying. “On second thought, no I don’t.”
“I’m going to the tavern,” Augum said. “Maybe Huan has some broken cups and dishes to repair.”
“I’m going to try the mines,” Leera said.
Bridget looked around. “Guess I’ll hit the shops. And don’t forget—”
“Discretion, yes,” Leera said. “We got it.”
They parted ways, wishing each other good luck.
Augum stepped into the dim atmosphere of the Miner’s Mule Inn, occupied by only a handful of patrons mostly gathered around a dark oak table, with a single straggler at the bar. Huan stood off to the side at a tall wine table, looking like he had been the last to leave the Star Feast—there were dark circles under his eyes and his apron was askew and full of stains. He stared at a worn book splayed open before him, quill in hand.
