by Sever Bronny
One of Leera’s brows rose. “Did it now?”
“Father always said an unmanaged thread is a sign of irresponsibility.” He bowed. “I look forward to working with you, Lady Jones.”
“Dragoon Jones,” Leera corrected amiably.
“Natch.”
Augum felt a twitch beginning in his eye.
“And if I may say so, your spectacles quite suit your countenance, Dragoon Jones.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get used to them.”
“I am sure you will in due time.” He winked at her. “Dragoon Jones. Dragoon Stone. Dragoon Hroljassen. Ladies.” He inclined his head before departing, Ulfric in tow.
Alyssa, Haylee and Laudine swooned as they watched Arthur go.
“The smarmy bastard—” Augum said under his breath to Olaf.
“That’s not even a proper mustache,” Olaf loudly added. “He’s trying to grow a broom from a mouse fart. It’s like he started chomping down on manure and forgot to wipe.” The remarks earned him hisses and a volley of napkins from Arthur’s fan club.
“Oh, leave him alone,” Alyssa said. “He’s adorable.”
Augum saw smugness in Leera’s smoky eyes as she sat back down. He rested his elbow on the table and pointed at her, finger wagging. “You put them up to that, didn’t you? To come over here and prod at me.”
“You can simply admit you’re jealous and that you’ve lost.”
“No way. And I noticed that you did not deny the assertion.”
“ ‘The playthings of worry are wont to be sorry,’ ” Laudine sang, but then she leaned closer to Leera. “Hey, think you can put in a good word for us with that handsome buck later?” Alyssa and Haylee nodded eagerly from beside her.
Leera’s head wagged loftily. “I’ll think about it.”
“Knock it off, all of you,” Bridget snapped. “You’re playing stupid teenage games when we’re supposed to be celebrating our final night in the academy.”
Leera looked around in mock shock. “I think I just realized something.” She gripped the table. “I think … I think there’s a hidden word in the word ‘sixteen.’ Work with me here, but hidden in there is the word …” She gasped conspiratorially. “Teen! Could that … could that possibly mean we’re still teenagers?” She gasped again. “By gods, I think it does! And when we soon turn seventeen … Fates be good, I cannot believe this, but we’ll still be teenagers then too! Wait now—” She counted on her fingers. “—eighteen, and oh my, get ready now—nineteen!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon into Laudine. “Oh, but when will it ever end?”
Bridget was a gray wall. “I do not appreciate the sarcasm.”
Leera flopped three fingers in front of Bridget’s face. “Almost three more years of teenagehood, Bridget Abigail Burns. Three. More. Years.”
Bridget smacked Leera’s fingers aside. “Or the theatrics. We begin a seriously dangerous quest tomorrow. And grow up, you well know the kingdom sees us as adults at sixteen.”
“Just you wait until you see two floozies drooling over Olaf.”
“They’re his protectors, nothing more.”
“Pfft. Besides, we worked our butts off and earned this last night to frolic.”
Bridget shook her head in exasperation.
“Anyway,” Alyssa said, “Jez give any word on that vile witch?”
“Nothing new to report,” Bridget replied. “Orb is still silent.” She was referring to Katrina’s Orb of Hearing, which Jez and the other arcanists had repaired in the hopes that Katrina had kept the other half of the pairing, allowing them to spy on the enemy. Unfortunately, nothing had come of it thus far. Most likely that orb sat forgotten in a drawer or had been disposed of entirely.
Augum oft wondered where Katrina was in that moment, whom she was terrorizing, what breadth of power she had learned to access with that metal beast. Rumors roamed like wildfires. One student said someone crept up to the barrier while they were on guard duty and held up a Tiberran Herald depicting the dragon swooping and crashing through a city, pulverizing it. Another student swore they had seen the dragon fly high overhead and disappear behind the moon. By all accounts, however, Katrina was in the deep south, probably harassing the kingdom of Sierra, or perhaps Abrandia. It was impossible to know for sure as reports were scant and unreliable, and anyone caught trying to pass along news to the besieged academy was speedily arrested by the Canterrans. And although The Grizzly made sure the enemy regularly got a good look at shackled Prince Darby and Vintus Von Edgeworth, there was no way to know for certain if the Canterrans were holding up their end of the bargain. Were Solians quietly being slaughtered by the thousands, as they had been during the trio’s dragoon trial prior to the hostage-taking? Were the Canterrans slowly burrowing their way through the protective arcane dome in a spot hidden from prying eyes? The safety of Solian citizens—not to mention the academy’s—rested in the promise of harm against Katrina’s uncle and her betrothed. Only The Grizzly’s stern face and harsh words enforced that promise.
Augum’s thoughts were interrupted by the clinking of crystal. All eyes turned to the center of the dance floor, where stately Headmaster Byron stood underneath the majestic floating chandelier, about to deliver the farewell speech.
The Last Dance
“On the morn they leave on a sacred quest in search of a little-known realm,” Headmaster Byron proclaimed in conclusion, “in hopes of returning with a power I had previously considered nothing more than a children’s tale.” Byron, dressed in his black arcanist’s robe, raised a crystal goblet. “For the fallen, for our beloved Solia, and a fond farewell for our heroic Arcaners. May they successfully turn that children’s tale into reality—and bring back the dragon.”
“Hear, hear!” the standing crowd chanted, raising their cups. It had been a rousing speech, one that defined what was at stake. Byron’s bulldog jowls quivered as he drained his cup before turning away to hide his somber face, for the Canterrans had murdered his family, profoundly affecting the man. Whereas before he had despised the idea of Arcaners returning, now he embraced them and wanted Canterran blood spilt in vengeance. He had even summoned Augum to his office to apologize for so deeply doubting him, a moment Augum had found awkward, though he appreciated the man’s gesture.
After people sipped their light ale, the academy orchestra began to play—lutists, flutists, harpists, drummers and singers, along with minor instruments like the skiffle and triangle. Arcanist Chappie Fungal played his bagpipes with puffy cheeks, trying not to drown out the other players.
People began moving to the dance floor, where it was traditional for partners to dance with their sweethearts for the first song—tonight it was a rather somber piece titled The War and the Warlock. Surprisingly, The Grizzly was among the first on the dance floor, accompanied by Jez. He scowled at anyone who dared to so much as glance their way. Augum snatched Leera, Olaf took Bridget, and Jengo, who now wore a plain linen servant gown, seemingly the only thing he could dredge up, escorted Priya to the dance floor.
“Think The Grizz will tell us how we’re getting through the protective dome tonight, or will he save that for the last moment?” Leera asked as she swayed in Augum’s arms in time to the melancholy music. Ordinaries and warlocks alike gawked at them, with many young women talking to each other behind cupped hands.
Augum glanced over at the stern-faced bear of a man, who looked awkward with Jez in his arms, whereas she appeared content, her head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed. The man would not be joining them on their quest, for he was heading up the defense of the academy alongside Headmaster Byron and the other arcanists.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Augum remarked. “You know him—everyone’s on a need-to-know basis at all times.”
“Ugh, he’s so tedious and rigid. And I still can’t bear to look at the two of them. Can’t for the life of me figure out what she sees in that brute.”
“I
think they make a rather nice couple.”
Leera finally looked over at the pair, sighed, and snuggled her head into Augum’s neck. “I am going to close my eyes and pretend so many people aren’t staring at us. Lots of the girls want to dance with you.”
“And the boys with you.”
“No, they don’t, they’re intimidated by me.”
“But you’re as dainty as a flower.”
Leera snorted. “Not to mention they probably think you’ll bash their brains in.”
This time it was Augum’s turn to snort.
She idly rubbed the back of his neck with a thumb. “All jesting aside, I’m a bit concerned with the size of our group heading out tomorrow. Even if we make it out of the city, we’re going to be easy to track down.”
“Not if we play our cards right. We’ve got three high-powered warlocks in Jez, Ordrid and Flagon. We get caught up in a fight, they ’port out those of us who don’t know the spell.”
Augum didn’t want to voice his skepticism of their ability to cast Group Teleport mid-battle, as the casting time was lengthier than a standard Teleport.
“Not to mention it saves us a month of walking as they can cast Group Teleport to the closest place to Ohm that all three warlocks have already visited,” Leera went on.
“Antioc.”
“Then the challenge really begins.”
“Getting to Semadon …”
Hearing their destination spoken aloud on the eve of departure made the coming quest that much more real. But the journey would not be easy. Semadon was a long walk from Antioc, and along the way they would have to evade the Canterran forces that had invaded part of southern Ohm only a tenday ago. They also had to worry about attracting the attention of Katrina in her siege engine dragon, Orion. She hadn’t been spotted in quite a while and was thought to be helping the Canterran army invade the other kingdoms.
Augum had never been to a different kingdom and wondered what Ohm was like. He could almost picture the ancient monk city of Semadon nestled amongst the clouds of the Northern Peaks. The first goal was to visit the Seers of the North, holy mystics who allowed every soul to ask them one question per lifetime, with Augum asking on the group’s behalf how to get into Ley. The last portal to Ley had been destroyed during the Legion War and not a warlock alive knew how to teleport between planes.
Augum sighed and let his hand idly roam through his pirate princess’s raven hair and over the bandana.
“What’s with the sigh? Thinking of how beautiful I am?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“But you are beautiful.” Stunning would be a better word. He could not believe how attractive he found her this evening.
She raised her head to look at him with those smoky eyes. “You’re not allowed to worry tonight. Tonight, you leave tomorrow for tomorrow.”
“Been taking notes from Laud?”
“That was not poetry. And if it was, it was by sheer accident.”
“Yeah, don’t you dare start getting clever on me now,” he sniped playfully, for she was the wittiest person he knew. “And your spectacles are smudged again.”
“Still getting used to them.” She self-consciously adjusted them before placing her head back on his shoulder. “Nice to be able to see details for the first time in my life. Like, I can see Cry’s pimples from here. Did you see his costume? He’s dressed like a soldier. Last thing I expected from someone who had declared he wants to become a herald.”
Augum glanced over at Cry, dancing at arm’s length with a girl in a dumpy dress, a morose expression on his droopy face. He had perpetually unruly hair and was thin and short; while others continued growing in their teenage years, the Fates seemed to have held him back. Although his writing had once been a thorn in the trio’s sides, he now supported their efforts by quilling generally flattering pieces in the Academy Herald, which still circulated daily, providing precious entertainment for the shut-ins.
“Maybe he’s just preparing for tomorrow since he and Brandon are assigned to watch over Bridget,” Augum noted.
“That’s actually a good defensive pairing. Both of them respect her a tremendous amount. Anyway, because everything looks sharper and crisper, it feels like my brain is as well. I actually feel smarter.”
“You look it too, bookworm.”
She scoffed. “No one will ever replace Bridget.”
“Agreed there.”
They slow-danced in each other’s embrace until the song concluded and then were broken up by friends, for it was tradition for a friend to take the next dance. Augum ended up with Laudine, Leera with Jengo, and Haylee with a boy from her class. The orchestra began playing The Silence of the Sword, a dramatic and patriotic tune.
“They need to liven things up, we’re not at a funeral,” Laudine noted. Her hands rested loosely on his shoulders, his casually on her waist. Her lips were pressed together in thought, showcasing her dimples. “Has the committee framed a question for you to ask the Seers once we get there?”
If we get there. “Yes,” he replied. “Dotted every i and crossed every t.” The question had to be precise, otherwise the Seers were supposedly liable to give a non-answer, a cryptic answer, or a misleading one.
“But you think something will go wrong.”
Something always does. But he didn’t voice the doubt aloud.
“Why do you think you’ve been having trouble with Teleport?”
Again he stayed silent.
“ ‘None where tyrants go,’ Augum.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laudine the raging poet at it again.
“We’re like a family, Augum. We have to be able to trust each other with our truths and our lives.”
“You sound like Bridget.”
“Well, Bridget is wise. So what’s with the failed Teleport castings?”
“I can’t stop recalling that—” But he stopped short of telling her.
“Ooh, you mean your manhood ceremony?”
“Yes, that.” Shoot, could everyone read him like a book?
“And is that all?”
“Yes.”
One of her eyebrows rose skeptically.
“All right, it isn’t all. That time I cast the spell to escape my father—”
“—and smashed into the arena wall, breaking half the bones in your body.”
He swallowed dryly. “Yeah.”
She thought about the problem a moment. “You know, as a budding actor, let me share a trick with you from Drama class.”
“A trick?”
“A trick. It goes like this. When you don’t know if you can play someone, pretend to be the person able to play that person. Then, pretend to be that person.”
“Laud?”
“Yes?”
“How much ale did you have, because that makes zero sense to me.”
She pretended to choke him for a moment. “Listen to me, you stubborn mule! Pretend you’re the kind of person who can get over the humiliation, and you’ll become that person. And obviously you should pretend it’s your ideal you—the successful you. Get it?”
Nope. “Sure.”
“Argh, how does she put up with you?”
“I ask myself that all the time.”
They continued to dance, bantering on about inanities. Songs came and went. Of all their friends, the trio got asked to dance the most by far, with Augum in particular demand, something that made his friends chuckle back at the table. The girls who summoned up the courage to ask him had the curious habit of completely freezing in his arms, eyes wide as saucers. When they talked, they blurted things like, “How does it feel to be the Augum Stone?” or “Do you, like, um, really, really like Leera, or just like, like … you know?” Those dances couldn’t finish quickly enough.
Everyone danced until exhaustion had the girls slumping in chairs on one side of the table and the boys sullenly slouching on the other. Augum watched Bridget’s and Leera’s faces animate as they discussed somet
hing with Haylee, Laudine and Alyssa. The girls snickered, casting furtive glances toward Arthur’s table.
“The wretched husband hunt has begun,” Olaf muttered from beside Augum and Jengo. The lot of them were nursing cups of tea, as ale had been cut off early so that everyone could get a good night’s rest.
“Stone.”
Augum looked up to find The Grizzly looming over him, drink in hand. He stood up as his friends fell silent. “Sir?”
The Grizzly motioned with his cup and strode off. Augum took the hint and followed. The man led him to an isolated spot, where he turned to watch the crowd.
“Enjoying yourself, Stone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You ready for tomorrow?”
Augum inhaled as he watched the dance floor, then slowly exhaled. “Not as ready as I’d like to be.”
“You and me both, soldier. You and me both …” The man swirled the tea in his cup. “I squeezed every scrap of information I could out of those saps.”
“Anything useful, sir?” Augum pressed, guessing he was referring to Count Von Edgeworth and Prince Darby.
“You know everything you need to know. For all his talk of honor, Emperor Samuel is a snake. He’ll take any advantage available to him. I want you to be ready for that.”
“I understand, sir.” Augum glanced over and saw that The Grizzly was still swirling his cup. “What’s on your mind, sir?”
The Grizzly made a fist with his other hand and idly examined it. “We’re limited by a scarcity of knowledge on the subject, of course, but what little we know suggests the journey ahead is a mighty difficult one. The odds of bringing back dragons are remote at best. What I am trying to say is you might not end up attaining the rank of dragon, but you have to come back, and you have to come back alive. This kingdom needs you whether you succeed or not. You recall the way Ordinaries looked to you in training.”
Augum remembered all too well the way Ordinaries had jumped to obey his commands in the War Pit, their whispers amongst each other after he walked by, their hands shaking when he addressed them directly. In their eyes, he was a living legend. It was … unsettling to say the least.
