Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  The young man’s trembling ceased and his roving eyes stilled and went blank. Yet Augum continued to hold his limp hand, this young Canterran he did not know, until someone stepped beside him. He felt a squeeze on his shoulder and looked up to see Bridget.

  “Thank you, Brother,” she whispered, staring down at the body with a troubled face.

  He left her standing over the enemy she had slain and strode to Leera, whose arm was wrapped around Arthur’s neck as Jengo attended to her forehead.

  When Jengo finished, Arthur carefully let Leera go into Augum’s arms and the pair hugged and kissed gently. Throughout, Arthur stared at Augum with that same slack look he had worn upon seeing Augum telekinetically hold back the golem.

  Klines, meanwhile, stood over a body, spectacles dangling in a hand as she repeatedly sniffed. It took Augum a moment to realize that she wasn’t mourning the Canterran but rather a nearby pile of burnt books. Then she wiped her eyes, replaced her spectacles, and went around checking on everyone, telling them to get ready to move again. When she reached Arthur, he blurted, “Hey, uh, how strong is a golem?” without taking his eyes off Augum.

  “Imagine a Strength spell incanted at the 20th degree,” Klines replied. “That’s how strong. Now gird up, we’ve got to go.” She glanced at the mayhem surrounding them, muttering, “She’s going to murder us.”

  “That was a feat of legend, wasn’t it?” Arthur asked Augum.

  Augum, focused on his girl, only shrugged. He swept her matted raven hair from her sweaty face and readjusted her smudged spectacles, which she had apparently found again and repaired.

  Maxine stepped up to them. “Hey,” she said. “Good work, and … and thanks for slowing the golem. Would have been the end of me then and there.”

  Augum smiled. “That’s what a friend would do.”

  Maxine swallowed, gave an unsure nod, then focused on Mary. “And you—airhead!”

  Mary glanced over.

  “Thank you. I mean it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Maxine then stepped aside, though continued to stand near as Augum’s sole protector. And Arthur, too, stood near as Leera’s protector, still watching Augum with total awe. Yes, Arthur had shown some hesitation in the fight—who wouldn’t when facing such a behemoth—but he came around eventually.

  When Leera let go, Augum sighed and rubbed his forehead, realizing he needed to get over these pathetic jealousies. He looked over at Arthur. “Thanks for looking out for my beloved.”

  “It is my honor, Augum. And … and I mean that.”

  Augum acknowledged the sentiment with a nod. He glanced over to see Haylee abashedly thanking a crimson-faced Cry, his usually droopy eyes now wide and alert. He looked to Bridget and saw Olaf quietly consoling her with soothing words. As for Brandon, he was assisting Jengo, oblivious to Bridget. The group was finally shaping up.

  When Jengo had finished healing everyone, Augum strode to stand in the midst of them, conscious of Herzog’s scribbling. “I’m proud of you all,” he said, eyes sweeping their sooty faces. “But this isn’t over yet. We’ve got to snatch that dragon bone from—” He nodded at Klines, who took the hint.

  “—the Artifacts room in this wing.”

  “We need to expect the enemy to be outside this room. Once we get the bone, we make a full-on dash for the main doors of this wing and ’port from the Ordinaries wing. Either that or we cross the invisible bridge and ’port from the other side.” He once more looked to Klines. “After we get the bone and clear this wing, can we rely on you to ’port us to the outskirts of Crimson Tooth?”

  Klines nodded.

  “All right then, catch your breath and let’s move, people,” Augum said, feeling a bit like Jez. Once everyone gathered themselves and Augum’s headache retreated, he led them into the vestibule. “Get ready for an ambush.” He placed a hand on the doors. “One … two … three!” He telekinetically yanked them open. The group had steeled themselves for a fight, yet nothing happened.

  Augum cautiously poked his head out. “Looks clear—”

  “We don’t know that for certain yet,” Klines hissed, and cast a quick Reveal spell, only to nod the go-ahead after glancing about.

  Augum, realizing she had been right—someone could have been chameleonic, or even invisible—stood guard by the doors as he whisked the group by with his arms, whispering, “Go, go, go—Gavinius will be back with reinforcements soon.”

  Klines led the way to a room down the hall and placed a hand on the gargoyle. When it stepped aside, she opened one of the doors and waved them in. They streamed into the vestibule and the door closed behind them, with Augum the last to enter after checking that the hall was clear. Klines pushed past them and placed her hands on the two vestibule doors that allowed entry into the main room.

  “Nobody touches a thing, got me? Not a thing, unless you want to face golems again.”

  They nodded like children eager not to get another spanking.

  Klines pushed on the doors and they were greeted by the acrid smell of medical solution mixed with cleaning mint and tar. Everyone who was able to lit their palms, cascading the room with the rainbow hues of the elements and casting long shadows.

  Klines immediately disabled another ancient animated suit of armor like the one in the Planes room, giving them all a chance to glance around.

  The room was vast, with tiers of balconies that went up several floors. In the center stood huge simple shelving units that acted as storage for all sorts of artifacts, from statues and baubles and weapons and armors, to stone sarcophagi and broken tablet fragments and old paintings and taxidermy animals—there was even a stuffed harpy on a stone pedestal, a grotesque creature half vulture, half old deformed woman. Everything was labeled and catalogued, with some things so fragile or valuable they were behind glass.

  Floating untethered above that central space was a giant bronze gargoyle readying to descend on a hapless victim, its wings spread wide, muscles taut and veiny, face contorted in vivid rage. And at least twenty golems had to be in there, each bulky bulls of rock, standing tall and menacing and invulnerable before fat marble columns that shot all the way to the stone ceiling. That ceiling, the columns, and the walls were painted with ancient faded murals depicting cherubs and a mysterious people and lofty gods unknown to Augum. The women and men wore loose draped clothing and had curly hair and posed with exaggerated facial expressions. Some wore nothing at all, but floated naked and confident and pristine. It was a room that looked like the innards of a temple built eons ago, stolen from an unknown people who had lived in an unknown land.

  They gaped as they hurried along. Entire shelving units were filled with specimen jars containing beastly things. Sightless eyes stared at them as they passed, the eyes of things unborn, things that never should have been preserved. Mary sprang away from one jar with a yelp after witnessing the floating appendage within twitch toward her.

  They passed shelves filled with scrolls made from old reed, sections of clay tablets, whole units stuffed with nothing but ancient footstools and chairs. And beyond they glimpsed partitioned shelves, each stuffed with ancient tables or cabinetry or furniture, some obviously dug up, others perhaps rescued from tombs. Everything had a tag that not only gave a description, but was labeled with runic symbols describing any active protections, protections that Augum suspected were highly advanced.

  They passed a row of exquisite ancient clothing set upon straw dummies.

  “ ‘One of the many golden court tunics of King Solin Northsword the Great,’ ” Bridget read from a label underneath a particularly fine golden garment. “He was the first Solian king!”

  “And there’s your hero, Bridge,” Leera noted, shining her palm at a simple tattered wool garment made of something like potato cloth. The label underneath read This dress once belonged to Sabella the Midwife, circa 3 Pre Founding.

  “No time to dawdle, ladies,” Klines sang from ahead, constantly checking over her shoulder. “You
can one day come back as a scholar,” adding in a mutter, “if the Senior Arcaneologist doesn’t ban you from the library for causing a mess, that is.”

  Bridget’s face brightened as if nothing would please her more.

  Every time they passed a looming golem, Augum couldn’t help but recall the one that had so effortlessly pulped the Canterrans. Something that big, strong and immune to arcanery was a frightening concept to a warlock. Luckily, they were incredibly rare, and the knowledge to craft them had long been lost.

  They came upon a wide marble staircase and hurried up the steps to the second, third, and finally the fourth floor, with many of the companions huffing from sheer exhaustion. There they walked by the balustrade, getting a good view of the room’s vastness and just how many artifacts there were, before finally coming upon an inconspicuous black oak door with no handle.

  “I’ll be lucky to avoid warlock prison for this,” Klines muttered, placing her palm on the door. “Secretary Prudence Klines.”

  A click was followed by the door opening inward. What lay beyond made them gasp, for spread out on an enormous black marble table was the skeleton of a wingless dragon.

  “Don’t you dare touch that!” Klines barked when Mary reached for one of the huge foot bones only to snap her hand back as if bitten.

  “If it’s a dragon, where are its wings?” Olaf asked, tottering to a corner. Behind him were countless long shelving units with long thin drawers, each numbered and catalogued.

  “It is a lizard kin,” Esha whispered, hovering a paw over one of the bones. “From early world times, from the Age of Beasts.”

  Herzog’s quill scratched away at his floating tome.

  “A wingless dragon,” Haylee whispered. “Who would have thought such a thing ever existed?”

  “Their bones have been unearthed all over the kingdoms,” Klines explained, striding past the sprawling table.

  Augum exchanged a look with Bridget and Leera, each undoubtedly thinking the same thing—was this what the Canterrans wanted to reanimate with necromancy?

  “We do not know what they are, other than lizard kin,” Klines went on, searching for a particular drawer. “And they came in many forms and are said to be older than time.”

  “Some peoples worshipped them as gods,” Herzog whispered, head bobbing. “Some remote peoples still do.”

  Every single one of them was fascinated by this enormous skeleton, for here was direct evidence that dragons had existed … or at least some form of them.

  Arthur reached into his salt pouch, seemed to change his mind, and instead hovered a hand near a thigh bone as thick as his torso. “So these things are supposed to be older than The Founding?”

  Herzog scoffed, a sound not unlike a sneeze. “Older by years so long your youngling mind would shrivel at their enormity, yes it would. Blasphemously old.”

  Arthur jammed a hand into the pouch after all.

  “Can’t we just snatch one of these and make a run for it?” Leera asked.

  “No,” Klines replied. “The classification of dragon belongs to a separate subset of the lizard kin.” Her small fingers at last found one of the long drawers. “Ah, here we are. There aren’t many of them, but all we need is one.” She withdrew a small bone about the size of a fingernail.

  “You got nothing larger?” Brandon asked, gawking over her shoulder.

  “Do you have any idea of the value of these bones? Huh?”

  Brandon shrugged.

  Klines shook her head in annoyance. She wrapped the bone in a small cloth, carefully closed the drawer, and rushed to the door. “I’ll hand this to you when we’re clear of the wing,” she said to Augum as she passed by, “otherwise the golems will come to life.”

  Once they cleared the room, she closed the door behind her and they hurried as fast as they dared back downstairs, through the entire room, and into the vestibule. There Augum once more repeated the procedure at the doors, first poking his head out, then exclaiming in surprise, “We got lucky—not a soul to be—”

  But he was cut off by the sound of countless pairs of boots hurrying down the far stairs that led up to the Ordinary wing of the library.

  “Run for those doors there!” he hissed, pointing at a pair of enormous iron-strapped doors that stood on the other side of the hallway.

  They had no choice now but to cross the invisible bridge.

  The group bolted for them as Augum saw a sea of soldiers and warlocks come into view.

  “Fates help us, it’s a whole army,” Leera said as she ran.

  “Summon your elementals!” Augum commanded as they skidded to a stop at the doors. He drew an outline, incanting, “Summano elementus minimus draco,” and his lightning dragon sizzled into existence alongside four other Arcaner dragons, five minor elementals, and one major elemental, an airy behemoth that had been summoned by Klines. Augum pointed at the rushing soldiers. “Draco—attack!” His command was echoed by others, and the elementals shot forth, with the dragons leading the charge.

  That should keep them busy, Augum thought as the group worked together to open the huge doors, revealing a small ledge and a vast cliffside abyss. Far on the other side, reflecting the pale light of their palms, was a similar ledge and a second set of double doors. Both ends seemed to float like islands in an ocean of darkness, with nothing above, below, or in between.

  “Is there no way to make the bridge visible?” Haylee asked.

  “None that I’m aware of,” Klines replied.

  “So what’s the trick to it?”

  “Total belief in being able to get across,” Bridget said. “Augum, Lee and I crossed it before.”

  Mary felt around into the nothingness beyond the ledge, then looked up at Leera. “You said there’s a bridge here, but I can’t feel anything! There’s no bridge here!”

  “Bridget just told you that you’ve got to—” But Leera was cut off by Bridget stepping over Mary’s hand, her gaze level. Her foot, which should have gone through the air and sent her tumbling, instead sounded like it found stone. She strode ahead, jaw set with determination.

  “Go, go, go!” Leera called, and went next, acting as a second example.

  Olaf was about to follow when Brandon scooted ahead, practically running across. Not to be outdone, Olaf tried to jog, only to quickly scale his efforts back when he almost lost his balance. He held his stomach like a sack of potatoes as he waddled across, mumbling under his breath about crazy people and their crazy quests.

  Augum looked to Maxine. “You and I stay behind and seal the doors.”

  “And I’m going to start teleporting people on the other side,” Klines said, and easily clacked her way across.

  Augum and Maxine immediately got to work casting the 6th degree Seal spell on the edges of the huge iron-strapped doors.

  Arthur hesitated at the edge of the invisible bridge.

  “You can do it, Arthur, just don’t think about it,” Augum said in between Seal castings. “Have total belief in yourself.”

  “Right. Total belief. Total belief …” Arthur white-knuckled his salt pouch and repeated this as he cagily darted across. He was followed by a yelping Haylee; a surprisingly confident Mary; a gibbering Jengo, who Klines had to fetch when he froze halfway; a poised Esha, with Herzog just behind, book floating alongside; and a shaking Albert Goss guided by the ghoul, who carried Leland.

  “That’s as far as we’re going to get,” Augum said, unable to reach his casting higher up the door seams. Soldiers had already begun to bash on them from the other side. He expected warlocks to blow through at any moment.

  “Agreed,” Maxine replied, and the pair turned toward the bridge.

  “You go ahead,” she said, staring at the bridge with doubt.

  “No, I’ve done this before. You go.”

  “I insist. My job is to watch your back, after all.”

  They could hear the dull onslaught of spells slamming into the doors. On the other side, Klines had already teleported the firs
t group away. There was no time to argue.

  “Fair enough.” Augum began to stride across. But something about the way Maxine had stared at the bridge, reminding him of her skepticism toward anything mystical, told him to linger a little. She continued staring at the bridge a moment, cagily raised a leg, and stepped forth. Except her foot went right through the bridge and she twirled forward with a yelp. Augum, reflexes still sharp from combat, shot a hand out and telekinetically snatched her. She swung beneath him as if attached to an invisible rope, flailing like a raccoon trying to hang onto a branch.

  Augum groaned as he began waddling across like Olaf, Maxine swinging below, muscles straining as he desperately tried to hold his balance.

  “Don’t you let go o’ me, you bastard!” she yelled, country twang returning. “Don’t you let go now! I ain’t goin’ to die in no damn fall!”

  While the friends who hadn’t been teleported off shouted encouragement, the doors behind them exploded with a boom.

  “Ruuuuun!” Mary screamed, hands cupping her mouth.

  Augum didn’t look back at the enemy as he tried to waddle faster—only to trip over his own clumsy left foot, now missing two toes. He smacked face-first into the invisible stone of the bridge, his hands crumpling underneath him like parchment as he felt his telekinetic grip slip. Maxine, clutching his hands with her own significantly weaker Telekinesis, scrambled to hold on. He felt her invisible grip rake along his body as she began to descend.

  “Incoming!” Brandon shouted.

  A fireball whooshed past Augum, exploding into the cliffside underneath the companions. A giant spike of ice followed, slicing through the ever-increasing space between him and Maxine. He had managed to re-secure his telekinetic hold on her, but his arms were now dangling over each side of the bridge, pinning him to its invisible surface. He glanced back to see a Canterran try to cross the bridge, only to fall right through its surface. The man slowly somersaulted as he fell, screaming his way into the dark abyss before fading into silence.

  Blood began to drip from Augum’s nose again. It fell right through the bridge, a few drops splashing into Maxine’s face as she swung by.