by Sever Bronny
“There!” someone cried, pointing at the Orb of Orion. Before anyone could react, the right arm of the rotund man exploded with eleven glowing ivy rings. He raised it and sniped an incantation.
Augum was startled by a strange sensation in his hands. He dropped the Orb of Orion, now enclosed within a shimmering green globe. He recognized the spell as Sphere of Protection, the one Mrs. Stone had used to trap them in a bubble back in Sparrow’s Perch, and, more recently, save them from an avalanche.
And just like that, they were cut off from her.
Meanwhile, Raptos’ fur frosted over with a thick layer of ice. A frosted mace fogged into existence in his paw. He gave a guttural growl at the nearest Legion soldier, but the fat warlock pointed his arm threateningly at the wolven.
Augum made eye contact with one of the boys, instantly recognizing him. He saw Mya’s throat being slit, her body limply falling into his arms. Without thinking, he lunged at Robin Scarson, only to be caught by the sleek-armored soldier.
“Augum, stop!” someone shouted, but he was beyond reasoning, thrashing and cursing and spitting.
Robin, startled by Augum’s sudden madness, swallowed hard. “Kill him for me, Commander. Do it now—!”
“The great lord demands his son alive, I am afraid.” The voice was a garbled hiss, as if the windpipe had been scalded.
Robin spat on the floor, seeming to recover his courage. “Too bad. Then just don’t let the gutterborn near me. He must have spent too much time with those Henawa savages; turned him into an animal.”
Augum tired himself out. Panting, he gave Robin the blackest stare he had ever given a living soul. “Scum … gutless murderer—”
“Control your monkey,,” Robin said to Bridget and Leera with a mocking chortle.
“But you are a murderer and gutless,” Leera said. “We should have killed you when we had the chance with the banyan beast—”
Robin pointed at her. “Him we have to keep for now, but you—you we can kill—”
“Enough—” The burned man threw Augum back at his group with unnatural strength. Augum slammed into Leera, sending her tumbling over the edge of the platform. Luckily, Raptos’ reflexes were sharp—he snatched her arm and yanked her back.
“He will pay by seeing his precious crone impaled on my new blade,” the burned man said.
Augum met the gaze of those pale eyes, hidden behind folds of rotten flesh. Suddenly it dawned on him who this man was.
“Tridian …” Also known as the Blade of Sorrows.
“Commander Tridian to you, boy. That crone of yours left me with quite the gift, though I was never quite popular with the ladies anyway. Consider me reborn, if you will, by the grace of our mighty lord. My years of loyal service to His Lordship overcame my failures. I am his first revenant.”
“Damn,” Augum heard Leera mutter behind him, but he was unfazed. New courage flowed through his veins. He squared his jaw at Tridian. “Come along to teach your little brat some more tricks?” He remembered the iron room and the cold way the Blade of Sorrows had directed Robin’s questioning.
The pale eyes narrowed ever slightly. “Unwise of you, boy. You are greatly outmatched. I can break that ugly mutt’s arm without any trouble.”
“An empty threat, lowlander.”
“So you think, earless wolf.” Tridian’s eyes flicked back to Augum. “Besides, just because I cannot kill you, does not mean I cannot do great harm or worse to your friends. Or have you forgotten that little lesson?”
The words caught in Augum’s throat. He recalled how Tridian and Robin held Leera hostage in the iron room, threatening her life. They were capable of torture, and it was best to hold his tongue.
“Mr. Spigot!” Bridget abruptly cried out, grabbing the encapsulated Orb of Orion and holding it protectively. “What are you doing with … with them?”
“Bridget—” The doughy man was old, with blotchy skin and sunken eyes. His squat frame protruded with an ale belly, and his balding scalp had a silver crescent of tired hair. “My girl, I am … I am no longer your mentor. I am now a faithful servant of Lord Sparkstone.” He moved his left shoulder to draw attention to his arm, and it was only then that Augum noticed the sleeve hung empty—the man was missing a limb.
Bridget’s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, Mr. Spigot …”
“Shyneo,” Mr. Spigot said. His remaining hand lit up with glowing leaves. “Now I must ask you to extinguish your palms.”
They did as he requested.
“Can I slap Leera around for you later?” the girl in the necrophyte robe asked Robin. She had curly, fiery hair, a crooked smile, hammy fists, and a bullish body that reminded Augum of Dap. She appeared a couple years older than the trio, and much stronger.
Robin flexed his fingers. “Definitely.”
Leera’s head tilted, voice faking a sense of loss. “Aww, guess you’re someone else’s pet now, Temperance.”
“It’s Temper now,” the girl said. “Temper!”
“As it was when you were Haylee’s toad. Nothing’s changed I see—still as thick as oak.”
Temper growled like an angry hound and took a step forward, bulbous fists curled.
“All right already—!” Mr. Spigot raised his arm to get everyone’s attention. “Let us concentrate on the matter at hand. Robin, Temperance and Garryk—I expect you to behave as if we’re back at the academy. I will be submitting a report directly to our lord when we return, and it will weigh heavily in his consideration for leadership positions.”
Robin thumbed at Augum’s group. “And what about them?”
“They will be our prisoners,” Commander Tridian replied.
“Raptos is no lowlander’s prisoner.”
“We shall see soon enough.”
Robin and Temper glared at the trio while Garryk unstrapped three dusty old tomes, plopping them on the ground. He was a stunted boy with olive skin, a large birthmark on one cheek, and clunky spectacles that routinely slipped down his nose.
Robin spoke through his teeth. “Wart, what are you doing?”
“I think I read about this entrance, Honored Necrophyte. Legend says the pit is bottomless, and that if you fall, you fall all the way to hell. It was used to intimidate guests, especially foreign dignitaries that came begging to keep their kingdoms safe and—”
“I brought you along to get us inside, Wart, not to bore us to death with history.”
The boy looked up, pushing on his spectacles. “But I thought you said I’m here to help you find the reci—ouch!”
Robin smacked the boy’s head, sending his spectacles careening across the floor to Augum’s feet.
Mr. Spigot immediately took out a little black book. “That’s a mark against your record, Robin Scarson. When I say I expect you to behave like we’re back at the academy, know that I mean it.”
“Just like you had too many marks against your record, Mr. Spigot?”
“You dare. Another mark! A few more and you can kiss that future command goodbye, boy, not that anyone would follow you the way you treat your subordinates!”
Robin turned to Temper. “They cut off his arm so he could live up to his name.”
Temper laughed.
Robin glared at Mr. Spigot while removing a stone from his pocket. He held it up—it was something One Eye had given him. “I will become commander one day, it’s my destiny—”
“That is quite enough, Apprentice,” the Blade of Sorrows said in his harsh voice. “Learn to hold your tongue. Spigot is right. I have said it before and I shall say it again—you have much to learn before earning command.”
Augum picked up the heavy spectacles. They were smudged and greasy. He walked over to Garryk, wiping them with the sleeve of his robe. No one said anything as the boy took them from Augum, mouth hanging open in surprise.
“Do you see how he has won the boy over with one simple gesture, Apprentice?” Tridian asked as Augum strolled back to his group. “Have a gander at my soldiers. Not one has u
ttered a peep since their arrival. That is discipline. That is respect.”
Heads swiveled in the direction of the five Black Guardsmen. They ranged in ages, from a middle-aged man with a hard jaw and gray stubble for a beard, to a thin boy no older than sixteen. There was a woman among their ranks too, face smooth but stiff, eyes alert and cold.
“You are quite right, Commander,” Robin finally said, face red. “Though out here—”
“—you will do as your teacher tells you,” Tridian interrupted. “Our fine lord personally gave me the instruction. All necrophytes are to respect their mentors on and off the field of battle. There have been … too many incidents, it seems.”
Robin gnashed his teeth at Augum, but said nothing.
Augum, for his part, watched Robin closely. All he needed was one moment to cast Push when that idiot wasn’t paying attention—
“See the way he watches you, Apprentice? Like a wolf stalking his prey. You need to mind yourself around other warlocks.”
Robin raised his hands in a defensive posture before dropping them in a hurry, as if afraid of appearing scared. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“Not if he wishes his friends to live, no, he would not dare.”
Augum gestured between himself and Robin. “You and I have unfinished business.” Tridian was right, but that didn’t stop Augum from opening his mouth, even though he knew he should stay quiet.
“Shut it, boy—” Tridian growled. “Do not try my patience. Your mentor is not here to protect you this time.” He turned to Mr. Spigot. “Speaking of which, if anyone should forget their place when it came to military matters …”
Mr. Spigot straightened and cleared his throat. “Let us not lose sight of why we are here.”
“You want the recipe—” Leera said. “We all know it. You might as well stop pretending otherwise.”
“How do you know about that?” Mr. Spigot asked.
Robin pinched Garryk’s ear and the boy squealed. “Because this rat just told them.”
“No,” Leera said, “actually we already knew. You want to make a portal without a scion because your dumb lord doesn’t know how to make one otherwise—”
Weapons were drawn and a series of shouts rang out.
“Halt!” Tridian said. Everyone froze. “You dare defile Lord Sparkstone’s name?” The Blade of Sorrows’ voice was filled with quiet fanaticism.
Leera gave a pandering smile. “Oh, no, not at all,” she said sweetly. “I merely meant the lordship of the council at Blackhaven.”
“The council has disbanded itself. There is only one Great Lord now.”
“Ah, but I didn’t say ‘Great Lord’, I only said ‘lord’. Obviously I didn’t mean him—”
“Leera, that’s enough—” Bridget said in a terrified whisper, gripping her by the arm.
“She meant nothing by it, I’m sure,” Mr. Spigot said nervously. “Now Garryk, you were brought along for a very specific purpose. Need I remind you how important a recommendation is in the lord’s army? Use that marvelous mind of yours, if you will.”
The blades steadily lowered as the boy fumbled with his books.
“Yeah, Wart, get moving,” Robin chimed in, much to Temper’s amusement.
“Yes, Mr. Spigot, of course, Mr. Spigot.” Garryk quickly flipped through one of the books. He shook his head after reaching the end and shoved the book aside, opening up another. Augum was able to read the spine of the first—Solian Legends, Myths and Lost Histories.
“It’s got to be in here …” Garryk muttered, as everyone looked on.
One of the soldiers spoke up. “Sir, the rest of the company—”
“Will have to make do without us, Lieutenant,” Tridian replied. “Let us hope they eventually make their way in, if the damned Occi do not pick them apart in the meantime.”
The wolven stirred on his haunches, the ice armor still thick, mace held tightly in his paw. Some of the soldiers pointed their drawn weapons his way, as if sensing an attack.
“You lowlanders do everything so slowly and inefficiently.”
“Yes, well, you highlanders are going to enjoy our slow march into your hovels one day,” Tridian replied.
“You have no idea of the strength of the north, tin lowlander.”
“This is no ordinary tin, dog. This is Dreadnought steel.” Tridian drew his blade, a razor thin longsword that seamlessly flowed from tip to pommel, with not a line to break the smoothness. “And one of the finest Dreadnought blades ever forged.”
“Before this is over, insolent lowlander, we will quarrel.”
“I look forward to it. I have been … dying … to test my new strength.”
Robin laughed forcefully. “Well said, Sir!”
Tridian flashed his apprentice a stern look.
Robin cleared his throat. “Hurry up already, Wart!”
“Yes, Honored Necrophyte, I almost … yes, yes, here it is!” Garryk lifted the big book while fumbling to push up his spectacles. “The servants of the old kings and queens that used to pay homage to Occulus wrote about the entranceway. It says only the death of an unworthy may bridge the divide.”
Robin smiled. “Well that should be easy, got a whole bunch of them right here. Now which one to choose …”
Augum raised his arms protectively before Bridget and Leera. “You’re not taking a single one of us.”
“You can’t stop—”
“Yes, I can,” Augum snarled, and he never meant anything more.
“Well this is quite the conundrum,” Tridian said in a voice that once would have sounded light under the circumstance. Now it sounded like a broken bellows.
“Garryk, what does the text mean by ‘unworthies’?” Mr. Spigot quickly asked.
Garryk flipped back a couple pages, struggling with the awkward size of the book. His bony frame looked like it might collapse under its weight. “Unworthies are … anyone who has not sworn allegiance to the Lord of Death.”
“Well that settles it,” Robin said. “Everyone on our side has sworn allegiance—”
Garryk turned to Robin. “Pretty sure it means Occulus, the other Lord of—”
Robin shoved his face into Garryk’s. “Shut. Up.”
“Y-y-yes, Honored Necrophyte.”
Mr. Spigot brought out his little book.
“I didn’t touch him, did I!” Robin said.
Mr. Spigot ground his teeth but did not strike a mark in the book. “I shall solve this dilemma easily by teleporting out and bringing back an animal to sacrifice.” He made the gesture and spoke the arcane words, but nothing happened. “Excuse me, I must have misspoken.” He tried once more, but again nothing happened.
“Mr. Spigot, sir,” Garryk began, flipping pages, “I’m pretty sure the castle has counter-spells against teleportation and the like. It’s one of its defense mechanisms. Also, I don’t think they meant animals to count, sir.”
Robin smiled as if it was his birthday. “So back to the original plan.” He nodded sharply at Augum’s group. “One of them.”
“I tire of this—” Tridian said, taking a step forward.
“Mr. Spigot, please, do something—!” Bridget shrieked, but Mr. Spigot only swallowed, his eyes on Tridian’s Dreadnought blade as it pointed at Raptos.
“Let us settle this now, cur!”
Bahbell
Raptos bared his teeth as everyone quickly scuttled out of the way—Augum, Bridget and Leera to one side; the soldiers, Garryk, Robin, Temper and Mr. Spigot to the other. The portal stone loomed between the two adversaries as they readied to battle.
“Come on, Raptos, you can do it,” Augum said.
“I do not need your counsel, lowlander,” Raptos said.
Tridian flexed, swinging his sword smoothly. It hissed neatly as it sliced the air. “If one of the brats interferes, kill the girls.”
“With pleasure,” Robin said with a malicious smile.
Augum made sure to stand in front of the girls. Bridget somehow clung on to h
im, Leera, and the Orb of Orion like a shivering squirrel.
“Hang on to us, Bridge,” Leera whispered, “and don’t look down.”
Tridian raised his chin and taunted the wolven with a gesture of his left hand. “Come, dog.”
“That word is a great insult to wolven, lowlander. It betrays your ignorance.” Raptos’ towering body seemed even larger with the ice armor. Yet there was not a hint of fear in what remained of Tridian’s face.
“Then come teach me a lesson.”
Raptos leapt on top of the giant pillar and swiped at Tridian’s chest with his giant frost mace. Tridian actually stepped into the strike. The mace thunked off the armor, leaving no mark.
Raptos roared and swung to the other side of the pillar, scratching at Tridian’s exposed face.
Tridian caught the huge paw with his left hand. For a moment, there was a match of strength. “I could have sliced it clean off, dog,” Tridian said, before shoving the wolven back.
Raptos roared and flexed, revealing enormous veined muscles beneath his icy fur. He opened his jaws and blew cold breath at Tridian. The Blade of Sorrows’ face immediately began to frost up. He shook his head and tried to step aside, but Raptos, with his pillar height advantage, kept aim. There was nowhere for Tridian to go.
“He’s blind—” Leera said in hopeful tones.
“Commander—!” Robin shouted in warning as Raptos lunged.
Tridian rolled forward as Raptos’ paw scratched along his sleek armor, again leaving no mark. The sword clanged against the ground as he recovered, quickly rubbing his eyes with his left hand.
“Is that all you got, mangy hound?”
“You lowlanders cannot help but cheat. The boy warned you. He should pay the price.”
Robin paled as Raptos bared his teeth at him.
“You go near him and you will be cut to ribbons,” Tridian said, pointing his blade. “Fight on.”
Raptos growled, prowling low towards Tridian.
