by Sever Bronny
Once the task was complete, Mrs. Stone solemnly dispersed them to Augum, Bridget, Leera, Mr. Goss, Leland and Haylee. Then, as they draped the cloth over their shoulders, she turned to address them. “Now all we require is a quiet spot.”
“I think I know the perfect place, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said.
Mr. Okeke opened the door for them. “We shall have the tea ready upon your return.”
Bridget led all the way to the site of the Star Feast. Although it had been dark in Milham, the Muranians still gleamed crimson to the east. The tables sat in the same arrangement, looking lonely in their emptiness. The three fires sat cold and black.
“A moment, if you please.” Mrs. Stone paced to the woods. She pointed her arm and a series of branches rose from the snow. They shook in midair, discarding the frost, and floated to one of the fire pits.
Mrs. Stone repeated this process twice more before shuffling to the pit. She extended her palm and the branches began to steam and sizzle. She withdrew her hand just before the point of ignition and turned to them. “Please gather in a circle.”
They did as she asked, fanning out. Augum recalled Mrs. Stone performing a memorial ceremony back at Castle Arinthian. This time, he would see new figures in that fire. So much death …
Mrs. Stone raised her chin. “I call upon the spirits of the dead to listen to the cries of the living and to remember those they left behind, those that still breathe the air and eat of the earth. Dearly departed, allow us a final goodbye as we mourn your passing from this life.”
The woodpile burst with tall flame that changed color, settling on a deep blue. Augum felt the heat on his face.
“Hear the cry,” and as once before, Mrs. Stone began singing a primitive fragile tune that seemed to span eons of time.
Augum stared into the fire until it became a curtain of white, blurring with the snow. The first figure to emerge was One Eye, the befuddled but honor-bound old man who was once Mrs. Stone’s friend. Augum raised a hand and gave a single wave, remembering his brave sacrifice that allowed them to escape the Blade of Sorrows. The old man winked with his remaining eye, raised his cane in acknowledgment, and faded away, allowing a large woman with a kind smile to waddle forth. Augum would never forget the face of Miralda Jenkins, a face that shone with peace. She had used the last of her arcane strength to lift the witch’s curse off him, at the price of her life. For a time, she stood there, filling Augum’s soul with warmth and quiet peace. Eventually, she closed her eyes, lowered her head, and faded into nothing.
The next figure he saw surprised him—it was Prince Sydo Ridian, the boy who had died in a state of confusion, perhaps madness even. Sydo had treated the trio poorly and betrayed them, yet Augum felt no ill will toward the boy anymore. His antics cost him his life, a harsher punishment than he deserved.
Sydo stood with a face creased with sorrow, as if wishing he were still alive.
“Goodbye, Prince Sydo,” Augum said.
Sydo only dropped his eyes. His shoulders sagged in resignation before he too disappeared.
At last, the form Augum longed to see slowly took shape. Mya walked forward with a humble casualness he had forgotten, wearing a black servant gown. Her long silky jet hair was as straight as ever, almond eyes like two brilliant emeralds, porcelain skin almost translucent. She bestowed a radiant smile as bright as the sun, appearing so close, yet so very far away.
He slowly raised his hand in greeting, whispering, “I remember dancing with you. We were almost caught.” He laughed gently. “Imagine the pair of us stuck in Ley together …” He sighed, watching her form ebb and flow with the bright white. “I would have been all right with that if you were there to keep me company …”
She continued smiling at him, head slightly tilted, hands softly clasped together before her. Somewhere in that great unknown, he heard the echo of a distant song.
“I think about you,” he said. “I ask myself if I could have been faster. Could I have prevented Robin from … from killing you …” He stared into those smiling eyes. “Sometimes I try to think of arcane ways of bringing you back, you know. I can’t tell anybody about it, but I can tell you. I know you’d understand …”
He was unable to speak anymore. They stood like this for a long time, watching each other. When his heart felt at its heaviest, she stretched out her hands and made a graceful gesture—that of a bird flying free. He swallowed hard, keeping himself from running to her and taking her in his arms, knowing he would never lay eyes on her again.
“Goodbye,” he mumbled as she slowly walked backwards. She gave him one last radiant smile, a smile he’d never forget, and turned away, her steps silent. Her form began to blur and whiten, until it was one with all. Everything lost its importance in that whiteness—time, ambition, pain, happiness. It soothed his being and his aching heart like a warm bath after a long cold day.
After a time, it began to fade, bringing into focus a world of color and sound. The light in the west was now hues of purple, the sky to the east dark. The scent of pine and cedar mingled with smoke. When he looked around, he saw it was just he and Haylee now, draped in black fabric that fluttered lightly in the breeze. He must have spent a lot of time in that trance.
“I saw them again,” Haylee said quietly, face wet with tears. “I saw my parents and my grandpapa. I got to say … I got to say goodbye. I’ll never see them again, will I?”
He watched the smoke curl its way skyward, a dance of infinite forms. “No, you’ll never see them again.”
Haylee looked off into the darkening mountains, hair streaming behind her. “What now? What is there for me now? I have nothing. I am nothing …”
“Then you have nothing to lose.” He had said it simply and without knowing why. They locked eyes. For a moment, they were one and the same, two souls knowing loss.
“I have nothing to lose …” and she walked off, leaving him.
The cold began to bite, but he cherished standing on that hilltop alone, taking in the eternal view, the vast sky, the calming of his heart. He watched as the first stars appeared in the east, the purple faded to black in the west, and the near full moon took shape from behind wisps of cloud. Only then, with the night blooming in quiet but infinite glory, could he bear the cold no longer.
“Shyneo,” he said, and returned to the Okeke home for tea.
The Spikes
The morning after the memorial ceremony went by quickly. Breakfast was a chatty affair, with Mr. Okeke and Mr. Goss trading stories on the intricacies of their professions. Mr. Goss, wearing a pair of newly ground spectacles acquired after the memorial ceremony, began giving his son lessons on how to write. Mr. Okeke took Jengo to the mines for a lesson in commerce, while Haylee resumed her place on the pine settee, covering herself with a Dramask blanket. She hadn’t yet bothered putting on the brand new burgundy apprentice robe purchased for her by Mrs. Stone the night before. Instead, she stared at the fire, mug of untouched tea in her hands.
Leera leaned toward Augum, whispering, “Why’d you think she got a new set of robes? Is Mrs. Stone going to mentor her too?”
Augum only shrugged.
The trio barely had time to settle their stomachs before Mrs. Stone dispatched them to earn more coin with their arcanery. It was a challenge Bridget looked forward to but Leera hated, muttering something about it being a chore. Augum didn’t mind so much, though he did consider it more work than fun. He returned to Huan at the Miner’s Mule Inn, receiving a silver for his efforts in moving a cask and three cots. Bridget and Leera each took in 12 and 7 coppers respectively, repairing pottery, tools and glass windows for people.
After lunch, Mrs. Stone had them practicing arcanery. Jengo had returned by then and took over teaching Leland how to write, while Mr. Goss departed with Mr. Okeke in search of work. Mrs. Stone looked on, occasionally remarking on how to perform a spell better. Haylee, who finally changed into her apprentice robe, sat at the table, head resting on her arms. No one bothered her, though Mrs. Stone did ask if s
he was interested in joining them for an excursion later. Haylee only shrugged, and Mrs. Stone did not press the matter.
The trio cycled through all the spells in their arsenal: Shine, Telekinesis, Repair, Unconceal, Shield, Push, Disarm, Centarro and Slam. For the last, Mrs. Stone enchanted the home to be silent from the outside. The trio’s arcane display both awed and terrified Jengo, who repeatedly dove into his room for shelter, proclaiming their certain doom. Leland only moaned and clapped. Even Haylee looked on, though her face remained impassive.
“You have comported yourselves well,” Mrs. Stone said at the end of it. “Now let us depart for a very special excursion.” She glanced to Jengo. “Please inform your father we shall return for supper.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone.” He hesitated. “Mrs. Stone, is it … is it possible that I come too?”
“I am afraid you are not qualified, Jengo.”
“Oh … perhaps it is better I stay anyway. Someone needs to look after Leland. Besides, I’d probably get killed in a horrible arcane accident or something.”
“I’ll go,” Haylee said without any emotion.
Mrs. Stone observed her coolly. “Have you at least achieved your 1st degree, dear child?”
Haylee stood. “No. I want to go though.”
“Let her come, Nana,” Augum said, feeling sorry for Haylee.
Mrs. Stone thought over it another moment before extending her veined hand towards her. “Please join us, child.”
Haylee joined the circle between Mrs. Stone and Augum. She was cold to the touch and her grip was limp. The push and pull of teleportation forced Augum to hold Haylee’s limp grip tighter. Unlike before, the sensation of tumbling and falling lasted far longer. It took a great deal of restraint not to vomit.
At last, they reappeared on solid ground. Everyone but Mrs. Stone fell to their knees, gasping and coughing. When Augum finally calmed his stomach, he looked around, discovering they stood amidst a sea of towering rocky mesas, like giant fingers extending from the earth. Theirs was only the width of a house; some had to be a league wide, while others wouldn’t fit a bird nest. The sea of stick-like pedestals jutted from mountainous terrain that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction.
It was almost warm, wherever they were, and the sky was clear, sun bright, wind mildly cool.
“Welcome to the Spikes,” Mrs. Stone said.
Augum glanced over the edge he was closest to and instinctively retreated. The fall looked to be several thousand feet straight down. He swore there were bones at the bottom.
“How did you get up here, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget asked. “I thought you can only teleport to places you have previously visited.”
“Very astute, Bridget. I had never climbed this spike, nor had my mentor who teleported me here. Yet at some distant point in the past, an ambitious warlock did climb it. This is one of a series of advanced training spots, called Trainers, handed down for generations from headmaster to headmistress. Each academy has its own series of Trainers, jealously guarded and only shared with those students showing the most promise and loyalty. Further, each Trainer is rated—the one we currently stand on is rated for the 3rd degree.”
“Look, it’s initialed,” Leera said, finding a large granite stone scratched with a wide assortment of signatures. “Some of these go back hundreds of years!”
“The oldest Trainer, and also the most challenging, dates back to near a thousand years, when the Academy of Arcane Arts was founded. If you knew your arcane history, you’d find some interesting names—”
“My father!” Augum blurted, fingering the words Lividius Stone etched crookedly into the rock. “So he was here …”
“But if these are the academy’s Trainers,” Bridget began, “won’t the Legion be using them?”
“Perhaps, but a proper headmaster or headmistress would never share these with those undeserving. It is a point of great school pride.”
“But Augum’s father knows about them.”
“He does indeed, but I believe him too busy with the Great Quest and the coming war to occupy himself with such things. There is no reason for him to come here or suspect us being here.”
Augum hoped so—the last thing they needed was his father suddenly showing up.
“Haylee, what are you doing!” Bridget cried out suddenly.
Augum turned to find Haylee standing on the very edge, toes curling over. She was looking forward, hair blowing in the wind, hands clenched.
“Haylee, are you crazy!” Leera called.
Augum took a step forward but was held back by Mrs. Stone’s sudden hand on his shoulder. He looked at her but her eyes were solely on Haylee.
“My dear child, look at me.” The wind gusted as Mrs. Stone took a single step forward. “What possesses you to stare into the last abyss?”
“There’s no point …” Haylee blubbered, turning around, balancing on the knife-thin edge like a leaf in late autumn. “I want to join them …”
“We all want to join those that pass before us, thinking we have been left behind.”
“You can’t stop me …”
“This I know. Your life is your own to do with as you see fit, a burden we all carry. Should I stop you now, you will only attempt it at the next opportunity. Should I tie you up, you will wait.”
“Your stupid memorial thing didn’t work.”
“It is a balm easily defeated by hopelessness.”
“I have nothing, no family, no home, no place to be, and no friends—”
“You have us, Haylee!” Augum said, reaching out, voice strong and unwavering. “You have me. I’ll be your friend.”
Haylee locked eyes with him and bit her lip.
“We’ll be your friends,” Bridget echoed, but Haylee’s eyes were only on Augum. As they stared at each other, bumps rose on his skin. He saw his five-year-old self toiling with the bucket at the well as the Penderson brats skipped up to him.
“He done look like a filthy mutt,” said seven-year-old Garth.
“You is right, he done look like he gots fleas,” said five-year-old Buck, checking to see that his brother agreed.
Garth made to spit like his father but ended up drooling instead. He gave a sharp nod. “Darn right.”
“You is ugly and stupid!” Wyza cried, kicking dirt in Augum’s face.
“I ain’t done nothing wrong,” Augum said, accidentally dropping the bucket of water back down its rope. It splashed at the very bottom of the well.
The brats laughed.
“You is dumb as a toad!” Garth said.
“Dumb as a toad,” Buck echoed.
“Yeah, dumb as a toad—!” Wyza went to push him but he stepped out of the way. She stumbled and fell right into the well. Without even thinking, Augum’s hand shot out and caught her ankle, holding her just long enough for her brothers to violently shove him out of the way and drag her back to safety.
“What you is trying to do, kill our sister!” Garth screamed.
Buck, meanwhile, ran back to tell. That day, Augum took one of the worst beatings of his life, acquiring the first of the scars that traced along his back like an unfinished painting.
He had forgotten about that, the memory buried under layers of bitterness and hurt. Yet as he stared into Haylee’s eyes, another memory came, this one warped and strange. He saw himself as an eight-year-old blonde girl, happily running among friends. They were all girls around the same age. They were giggling and laughing and chasing another girl with red hair. She was crying and calling out, but no one on the dingy city street bothered to help her. She ran as fast as she could, yet the girls in the group kept up.
“We’re only playing, Dora, stop running!” he heard himself shout in a girl’s young voice.
Dora ducked into an alley and they followed. She bolted around a corner from which came a terrible shriek. When he had caught up with the other girls, they found a large round hole in the ground and water shooting past. The others screamed and ran off, but he didn’t. He
only stood there, staring into the darkness, blonde hair dangling before his face.
“You saved her,” Haylee suddenly said, taking a step away from the cliff. She looked confused. “How did I see that?”
“What’s going on here?” Leera asked.
“I saw you too,” Augum said. “You ran after Dora …”
Haylee’s hand shot to her mouth. She fell to her knees. “They never found her … it was my fault … they never found her …”
Bridget ran and embraced her, slowly drawing her away from the edge.
“It was my fault …” Haylee kept saying.
“What just happened?” Leera asked Augum as Mrs. Stone prepared to teleport Haylee back.
Augum slowly shook his head. “I have no idea. I … I was her for a moment there, and she was me, except … except we were younger …”
Mrs. Stone finished saying something to Bridget before teleporting away with Haylee.
Bridget walked over, face pale. “Mrs. Stone said she’ll be right back. What … what did we just see there?”
Augum repeated what he had told Leera.
“But that’s impossible … unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Do you remember how you used to cast lightning uncontrollably, especially when you felt cornered?”
“Yeah …”
“Well maybe you just did it again, except using some other wild arcanery …”
“So what are you saying, I can cast random wild spells?” There was a stigma attached to wild warlocks who learned arcanery on their own. They were deemed crazy and often killed themselves.
“I’m not sure, maybe Mrs. Stone will know.”
“What did you see?” Leera asked, watching him closely.
Augum hesitated. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to tell. Luckily, Mrs. Stone teleported back at that moment. She paced forward, using her sleek staff as support.
“Nana, I don’t know what happened, but I was Haylee for a moment there when she was young, and she saw through me in the same way—”
“In times of stress, a warlock may subconsciously search for alternative solutions that materialize in the form of wild arcanery. Though it is rare and can fail disastrously, it does happen to those with sufficient … motivation. If I am not mistaken, you may have just cast the healing spell Empathic Transmission.”
