by Sever Bronny
He looked around at the immensity of the slope. There was nothing but mountains in every direction—mountains and snow and ice and cold death. He withdrew one of the squishy red sacks and adjusted Leera’s head to a better position, then pierced a hole into the skin of the fruit with his teeth. It was awfully bitter on the tongue. That wasn’t good—bitter almost always meant it was bad for you.
“Please …” he whispered, opening her mouth with his other hand. “Please … let this work …” He slowly tipped it into her mouth. She began to drink it weakly, finishing the contents. He threw away the peel.
Her eyes opened. He watched as her pupils slowly dilated like saucers. She seemed to stare past him. “I’m … Leera …”
“Yes … are … you … all … right?” He was so tired.
She gave him a peculiar look and sat up. Suddenly she shoved him back. “You’re him!” she yelled, standing with renewed energy.
“What …?” It took effort to sit back up.
“You murdered them—”
“No … it’s me … Augum …”
She looked around as if lost. When her eyes focused back on him, he saw a wild animal there. Suddenly she lunged at his throat and began choking him.
“Leera … stop … it’s … me …” Black walls began closing in. He tried to unwrap her fingers, but in his condition, he was no match for this rabid new strength of hers. An old familiar electric stirring began in his chest. No, he couldn’t let that happen—yet the wild arcane energies he had thought he learned how to control began to pulse weakly. A spark shot out of his hand, a spark he hadn’t intended. Leera’s eyes snapped to where she had seen it and she let go, quickly pedaling back. She was breathing rapidly. “Don’t hurt me,” she mumbled. “Please, don’t hurt me …”
Augum finished gasping, hand on his throat. “Lee … it’s all right … it’s the bloodfruit … I’m sorry … had to do it …”
She drew her knees in. “I’m so scared …”
“We’re almost there … nothing to be … afraid of …”
“Where’s mum and dad?”
“Lee … you’ve got to … concentrate …”
She began rocking, mumbling to herself.
“Leera … all we have to do is … follow this path …” He limply gestured at their fading footprints. If they didn’t keep going, their old tracks would soon vanish altogether and they’d be lost.
“Aug … I don’t know what’s going on. Help me …” Her voice sounded so small and distant.
“Just follow the path … we’re tied together … I’ll keep up …”
“The path?”
“Yes …” He didn’t have the strength to gesture again. “Please …” By her reaction, he knew he couldn’t take the bloodfruit as well; who knew what would happen if both of them were in such a state.
She stood up, staring at their footprints. The snowfall obscured everything but their immediate vicinity. Perhaps that would help, Augum thought. Keep things visually simple …
Suddenly she began to walk and he had to scramble to his feet. The movements were very painful now, his muscles burning, feet numb. Leera walked a few hundred paces along the path before abruptly stopping. She stood there letting the snow accumulate on her shoulders and hair.
“We’ve got to … keep going …” he said, panting.
“My ears are cold …”
He painstakingly drew her apprentice hood over her head and then her fur hood. She continued on as soon as he was done. After about an hour of marching, with him struggling to keep up, she stopped again.
“It’s too dark, I can’t see …”
Augum took off his right mitt. “Shy … neo,” he said, wheezing for breath. His hand didn’t light. “Shyneo …” Weak lightning began crackling along his palm. He hoped it was enough for her to see by. His vision began to blur as his eyelids kept freezing together. He could no longer tell if they were on the path or not. He began to fall; the rope would go taut and then it would stop as she waited for him to get back up and re-light his palm. She would only continue when he reassured her everything was all right.
The snow was swirling thickly now, bringing night with it. He estimated they were only a couple hours away from the cave as the slope began to steepen. Suddenly his hand extinguished. Leera stopped immediately.
“Shyneo,” he said, but he couldn’t even feel his hand anymore. He laboriously put his mitt back on. “Leera … you’ve got to … you’ve got to try Shine …” There was no response and it was too dark to see.
“Augum … I’m scared, there’s something out here with us …”
He swallowed and listened, hearing only the gentle swoosh of snow. “There’s … nothing … there …” Every word was agony, his throat parchment dry. “Cast … Shine … Leera …”
“It’ll see us …”
“Leera … there’s … nothing … there …!” A bit of anger welled up with the frustration.
She whimpered before progressing to a shiver-inducing full-throated scream.
He shot forward and embraced her, whispering, “It’s … all … right …” but he was so tired he collapsed with her still in his arms, the pair tumbling to the snow. “Shh … it’s … all … right …”
Her screams subsided to weeping. “I don’t know what’s happening. Who am I?”
“You’re … Leera … Jones … and … we’re … almost …” He could not speak anymore. He didn’t even know if he had the energy to stand. They lay like that for some time, the snow slowly burying them alive. He knew they had to keep going. Only death awaited them out here. Cold, detached, eternal death …
“There’s something there,” Leera whispered.
He was unable to respond. All he wanted to do was sleep. Even keeping his eyes open was an immense struggle. Yet as he listened, he realized there was something out there. It padded along in the snow. Leera stiffened in his arms as whatever it was stopped just ahead. Was it his imagination though, perhaps triggered by her saying it? It was impossible to tell.
“You could be heard for leagues. Is this your way of skimping on your debt?” came a deep voice from the darkness.
Leera began screaming again but Augum squeezed her with strength he did not have.
“Help …” he only wheezed. He was gasping now, scavenging for any hidden reserves of energy. “Promised … you … one … blood … fruit … will … give … another …”
“I know a good bargain when I hear one.”
The wolven scooped the two of them up in the darkness. Leera howled and struggled. All Augum could do was hold her hand, too weak to speak. It didn’t help much.
The wolven snarled. “I have half a mind to leave her. Her wailing is trying.”
Familiar black walls began closing in. “I … blood … fruit …”
“You fed her bloodfruit? Lowland fool …”
The blurry outline of a cave came into view, dimly lit by a fire within. At last, the walls mercifully closed, but not before Augum glimpsed three figures silhouetted against the entrance, one held up between the other two.
Annihilo
Augum woke inside a tent on rocky ground, covered with blankets. His body tingled with shivers and his breath labored along. A fire crackled nearby, the comforting sound bringing warm memories, and there was the delicious scent of hot potato soup.
“Morning,” Bridget whispered, smiling.
“Morning.”
“Here, have this.” She offered him a bowl of soup. He took it with a grateful smile. “You have a fever and need to rest. You were in an awful state last night; wouldn’t even let me put you into your nightgown. Barely managed to change your bandage.”
Augum struggled to lift his hand. Sure enough, there was a new linen bandage there. “Thanks. How’s Leera?”
“Sleeping right beside you, silly. She’s all right, but also has a fever. She went a little crazy, thought we were strangers—”
He glanced over. Her face was a little pale.
“I gave her bloodfruit.”
“I know, Raptos said as much. He fed her some kind of wolven tea at no charge, though I think it was to shut her up more than anything. Took a while, but she eventually fell asleep.”
Haylee dragged herself into the tent with a groan.
“Hi, Aug,” she whispered, brushing blonde hair out of her eyes. “Leg doesn’t hurt as much, but I won’t be able to walk for who knows how long. I’ll need a healer at some point to make it right. But we can talk about that later. We were really worried about you,” she went on as he slurped away at the soup. “About both of you, that is. Bridget only completely recovered yesterday, you know. We spent most of our time training.”
He felt stronger with every mouthful. The soup tasted divine, thickly flavorful with added goat meat and spices.
“That was a close one, almost didn’t make it back,” he said.
“I knew you’d make it,” Bridget said.
“How’s Chaska?”
“Raptos made him search for firewood,” Haylee said. “Poor soul has been struggling staying silent. Probably hollering his frustrations in some valley right now.”
Augum smiled. “ ‘Poor soul’? So he isn’t a barbarian anymore?”
Haylee reddened. “I’m learning, aren’t I?”
“They’ve been getting along swimmingly,” Bridget said. “Now tell us about your trek.”
As he ate, he recounted their four-day-long adventure. There was so much to tell he found himself out of breath by the end.
“Does Mrs. Stone know about the Occi?” Bridget asked.
“I told her last time we trained but she didn’t believe me. She said eternal life wasn’t possible in the mortal world and that I should know better having seen my great-grandfather pass away. She said it was an illusion; that Peyas was just telling a ‘self-serving’ tale. Then again, maybe I should have told her they were unalive or something, or undead—or whatever the word is.”
“Aww, how could she not believe you, Augum?” Haylee’s face creased with sympathy. “It’s a witch’s curse—maybe it follows different rules.”
“Well Mrs. Stone might be right,” Bridget said. “Maybe that Occi man was lying. Though if it is all true—that is, if the same thing’s happening again—maybe our knowing what happened in the past can help us somehow.”
“Maybe. Peyas also said the Unnameables might be really powerful warlocks that just kept increasing in strength and knowledge, till we’re like bugs to them.”
“Now that’s just rubbish,” Bridget said. “Gods aren’t warlocks, they’re … gods.”
“If they even exist,” Haylee muttered.
Bridget sighed. “If the story is true about Occulus … well, how tragic that his beloved died.”
“Leera said you’d say that—about how tragic it was.” He finished the soup, sorely tempted to lick the bowl clean. “Now I wonder if my father also wants to resurrect my mother, and only Magua can help him. Maybe he feels guilty about what he’s done.”
“I’m not sure your father is capable of such a thing,” Bridget said.
“There’s no way he is,” Haylee added.
Augum took a final lick of the crude wooden spoon before setting the bowl down. “How do you know?”
Haylee shrugged. “He’s the Lord of the Legion, the Lord of the Dead, and the Lord of Dreadnoughts. He’s razed villages and personally slain … I don’t know, hundreds at least. Trust me, he doesn’t have a bit of pity.”
“And remember what Mrs. Stone said about his youth,” Bridget threw in.
Augum wished the bowl filled itself up as it had done in children’s tales. “I know, I know, I remember …”
They thought about it a moment.
“I wonder what ended up happening between the Legion and the Occi,” Bridget said.
Haylee picked up the empty bowl. “Maybe they destroyed each other out on that glacier …”
“We can only hope,” Augum said. “Where’s Raptos anyway?”
“He usually leaves in the mornings,” Haylee replied. “Sometimes he doesn’t come back until late. Bridget made a fire and this soup, but I had to trade the last of the chocolate for the potatoes. Wouldn’t even give us goat meat. He really doesn’t give anything for nothing. Bridget and I repaired what we could for him arcanely, and that got us some stuff, but he didn’t have much to fix, mostly a few figurines that had fallen from the shelves.”
“We’re going to need more provisions to make it to Bahbell,” Augum said. “Takes two days to get to the portal pillar. After that, it’s just a teleport ride away.” He groaned. “I really don’t want to be sick right now. What if they beat us to the recipe?”
Haylee adjusted her splinted leg with a wince. “Neither of you can travel while you’re sick. Maybe Raptos has something that’ll help.”
Bridget absently polished the Orb of Orion with a cloth. “We don’t have anything left to trade for food or medicine, really. We need everything we have.”
“Raptos still doesn’t know what’s—” he paused to cough, “—what’s inside Bahbell, does he?”
The girls shook their heads.
“Good. All right, here’s the thing—it takes arcanery to activate the portal pillar, so I don’t think he’ll be able to get in without us—” He’d been thinking about this during the trek. “And since he trades for everything, maybe we can purchase provisions that way.”
Bridget stopped polishing. “That might actually work …”
Haylee frowned. “Must you take him? Couldn’t you trick him or something and leave him behind?”
Augum watched her a moment. “You’re not coming, are you?”
Haylee dropped her eyes, absently tugged at her splint. “You know I can’t.”
He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“We discussed it at length while you were gone,” Bridget said, giving Haylee a sympathetic look. “Chaska volunteered to carry her.”
“But Nana can teleport—”
Bridget shook her head. “I spoke with her last night. She can’t take the time or risk walking all the way here. It would only draw more of the Legion this way and to Milham.”
“It’s all right,” Haylee said. “I promise I’ll make that big lug stop often. And we’re not completely defenseless—he’s got his bow and I’ve got—”
“—your 1st degree only,” Augum said.
“We’ll be fine,” Haylee said. “It’s already settled. We’ll leave as soon as you two are well again. And don’t look so worried—just focus on what you have to do next.”
Bridget resumed polishing the orb. “I don’t know if taking Raptos with us is a good idea. What if his interest in what the Legion wants actually ends up in him getting the recipe before us?”
Augum laid back, body achy from the fever. “We’ll just have to get to it before anyone else.”
“Mrs. Stone’s told me a bit more about how they’re pursuing her,” Bridget continued conversationally. “They track her by having the warlock who visited a place closest to where she is teleport the entire group. Means those warlocks are very high in degree as Group Teleport is a 17th degree spell …”
Augum nodded, closing his eyes. He was very tired and just wanted to rest. He hoped it was a chill, not a fever—they couldn’t afford to spend time wasting away here while the Legion fought its way into Bahbell. He wondered who’d win—two hundred Legion soldiers or a hundred Occi and their harpies. If the Legion had warlocks, the Occi might be in trouble, though that depended on Nefra’s arcane strength.
He drifted off to sleep with those thoughts swirling in his brain, until woken by a sudden scream.
“It’s all right, Lee, you’re safe,” Bridget was saying. “Just a bad dream …”
“Is Augum all right?” Leera asked feverishly. “I did something awful … I tried to kill him …”
Bridget stroked Leera’s head. “He’s right here, he’s fine, don’t you worry.”
“Augum, I’m so sorry �
� Aug …” Leera kept mumbling.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m right here and I’m fine,” but she didn’t appear to hear him.
Bridget furrowed her brows. “Raptos said bloodfruit is a powerful hallucinogen. It may have made her fever worse.”
“I wish I hadn’t given it to her …”
“Don’t be silly,” Haylee said, “you had no choice.”
He knew she was right but still felt guilty. “Hallucinogen …” He recalled Sir Westwood lecturing on some of the more deadly fungi. Apparently, assassins use them in the Sierran deserts.
“I wonder if that’s why the Occi have gone crazy,” he said. “All they eat is that stuff.”
“They’re Occulus’ children,” Haylee said. “Of course they’re crazy—they’ve been alive for over fifteen hundred years!”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Bridget said, checking on Leera. “We don’t know if any of that’s true.”
“Sorry … I know my leg’s not doing so well and all, but … think you can give me some pointers on those spells before I go, Augum?”
Bridget gave her a disapproving look. “He’s sick, Haylee, and besides, you’re not ready for a 3rd degree spell.”
“Well, I think I’m ready. People learn spells ahead of their degree all the time. I mean, isn’t Centarro 3rd degree?”
Bridget sighed. “Yes, but the Standard Spell structure hasn’t changed for over three thousand years for a reason—it works best to learn the spells in that order.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Haylee said, glancing down at her leg with a wince. “I have other things to worry about.”
“I’m going to go back to sleep,” Augum said, feeling another wave of shivers come on.
“I’ll wake you for a late lunch.”
He slept peacefully, knowing they were safe, at least for the moment. He dreamed of Castle Arinthian and its cozy canopy bedstead, its hearths and long red carpets, until Bridget woke him as promised around mid-afternoon.
He stretched. “I’m going to get some air.” It was stuffy and damp inside the tent.
“Take the blanket with you and stay warm. Lunch will be ready in a moment.”
He crawled out of the tent, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breath steaming in the frigid air. The tent sat at the cave entrance. Too close for his comfort, that was for sure. He made a mental note to move it later.
