Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  “Then I wish you all the luck in the world, little one,” and Bridget leaned in to give her a hug.

  “You better go,” the girl said. “There be people looking for yous two.”

  “Thank you, we will.” Bridget stood up, misty-eyed. “What’s your name?”

  “Leona, but the other kids call me Rat.”

  “Well, Leona, I dub thee Brave Leona. Farewell and good luck to you, Brave Leona.”

  The little girl curtsied awkwardly. “And good luck to you, m’lady hero, m’lord hero,” and she turned and ran off.

  Augum and Bridget smiled at each other before turning on their heels as well and hurrying down the alley. Augum kept a hand over the mead, careful not to spill it.

  “We could teleport if we need to,” he said, confident he could teleport himself out of town, but unsure if he could make it all the way back to the campsite.

  “Well, since we need to get better at teleporting, we should practice one of the core principles of arcanery—”

  “Ever-increasing distances, in this case?”

  “Exactly. We teleport to that spot on the road outside of town, you know the one—”

  “Where we first spotted the farm fields?”

  “Yeah, that one. And then we hop to the next spot, even further away, and teleport back to the campsite.”

  Augum already had a second spot in mind, a lonely birch they had seen on the side of the road. “Brilliant. And I guess we’ll have to snatch an evil Canterran later. Now let’s get out of sight and make our first jump.”

  They tucked into another alley, this one abandoned. The only problem was what to do with the mead—neither of them could figure out how to teleport without spilling it. And because they were novices at teleportation, appearing on the other end was jarring, often causing tumbles or falls.

  “You’re better at it than I am,” Augum said. “What if you just held your palm over it and teleported that way? You can pretend it’s that bullish man’s mouth.” It was a silly proposition but the only one that made sense. They should have just found a bottle of some sort and transferred the contents over—then again, what if that nullified the ritual ingredient?

  Bridget chortled. “All right, I guess.” She accepted the tankard, firmly placing a hand over it. “Meet you on the road in a moment.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You too.”

  She took a deep breath, focused, and incanted, “Impetus peragro,” disappearing with a thwomp.

  Augum heard running footsteps from the other alley. He wanted to check to see who was after them—the Canterrans, or someone else—but decided against it. The thought of capturing one of the Canterrans briefly came to mind, but he didn’t want to complicate matters in that moment. He focused, recalling the exact location they had referenced while visualizing the fog, the fields, the dirt road, the limp grasses sticking up through the snow. “Impetus peragro,” he incanted, and violently yanked on his body. After carefully monitoring the arcane ether, he dumped himself on the road beside Bridget, feeling queasy as usual.

  “Congratulations, that was your first legal out-in-the-field non-practice teleport,” she said, still holding the tankard. “And I haven’t spilled a drop yet. Two more jumps to go.”

  It took Augum a moment to notice an old peasant woman gawking at them from the side of the road. When she dropped her basket of sticks, Bridget removed her hand from the top of the tankard and casually pointed at the basket, raising it off the ground. The woman looked down at it and, realizing what was happening, jumped away from it as if bitten. She then moaned in terror and began trundling as fast as she could in the opposite direction toward the town, shouting, “Path save me from the witch! Path keep me safe!”

  “Wait, don’t forget your basket!” Bridget shouted, and had the basket chase her, which only made the woman moan louder and trundle faster. Bridget at last gave up and lowered the basket to the ground. “Oh, well, she’ll probably come back for it.”

  “If she doesn’t think it’s cursed,” Augum muttered. “All right, second jump. You remember that lone birch on the side of the road?”

  “Meet you there in a moment.” While firmly covering the cup, she focused and incanted, “Impetus peragro,” disappearing with another thwomp.

  Augum marshaled his mind to vividly recall the exact spot he wanted to teleport to. “Impetus peragro.” But because it was his longest teleportation yet, the somersaulting and limb-tugging sensation made him particularly queasy and he lost focus. As a result, he reappeared about thirty feet above the barren birch, flying forward at a terrible speed. Luckily his battle instincts kicked in and, as he neared the ground, he shoved at it twice, shouting, “Baka! Baka—!” The violent jerks slowed his descent just enough so he could tumble awkwardly along the ground, his fall softened by the crunchy snow. Then he dry-heaved, but forced himself to keep his supper down as he’d need the energy.

  “What happened?” Bridget asked, running over, hand still pressed on top of the tankard.

  Augum shook off the snow and got up, then explained himself.

  “Just glad you’re all right,” she replied. “We’re pushing ourselves here, but think you can handle the next jump? It’s even longer.”

  “Yeah, just give me a moment.” Augum sat down and closed his eyes, feeling the cool night air while he fought off the nausea.

  “Good idea, let’s meditate.” Bridget put down the tankard and sat in the snow beside him.

  Together they sat in silence, replenishing their arcane energies at four times the normal rate and rebalancing their minds. Augum explored his anxieties and allowed them to dissolve, not fighting them but rather annulling them with awareness. Every time he meditated, he got a little bit better at it, and he was starting to really enjoy the process. After concluding, Bridget told him to go first and then wished him luck.

  Augum visualized precisely where in camp he would appear. “Impetus peragro,” he incanted, and for the third time that evening he arcanely yanked on his body. The journey this time was even longer and more nausea-inducing, but he resolved to keep it together, never losing focus on his destination and visualizing Leera’s happy face when he returned.

  He appeared with a thwomp in the exact spot he had envisioned, where he and Leera had made up after a fight—and promptly buckled over in the snow, dry-heaving once more. There was a second thwomp nearby as Bridget appeared. But just as Augum looked up to see where everyone else was, he was bowled over—“Oof!”—by a squealing Leera.

  “Oh, I missed you so much—” she said between showering him with kisses. Her hair was damp and she smelled of seawater. “—and I was so worried and we were all yapping on about what to do if you two didn’t show up—”

  “Love,” Augum said.

  “Yes? What is it? Everything all right? Are we fine? I’m fine. Are you fine? You look fine—”

  “I am fine, and I missed you too,” and he kissed her back properly and the pair rolled in the snow. After getting reacquainted, Augum adjusted his beautiful girl’s spectacles, took her by the hand, and led her back to the others, who were all jubilant at seeing him and Bridget returned safe and sound. He saw that they were the last to arrive, for even Jengo and Olaf had returned.

  The friends settled in a circle around Augum and Bridget, who tightly wrapped the top of the tankard in a piece of leather cut from a waterskin and tucked it safely into her rucksack.

  “How did you two do?” Augum asked Jengo and Olaf, and they told of how they managed to acquire a black soul amulet in Blackhaven, but quickly had to teleport to Antioc to escape nosy Canterrans. There they were able to purchase a small Dreadnought letter opener.

  “Who would have thought such a thing even existed,” Olaf said with a chuckle. “Probably crafted for some snooty noble. Although I suppose it could serve as a miniature dagger. Certainly sharp enough.”

  “Excellent work,” Augum said, and glanced to Leera. “Your turn.”

  Leera did the talkin
g on behalf of herself, Mary, Arthur and Maxine, showing off a fist-sized black beak and describing how she and Mary had worked together to slay a spearfin squid “twenty fathoms underwater.” They had dragged it to the coast before collapsing from exhaustion around a roaring fire tended by Maxine and Arthur. “And Maxine actually had a conversation with us.”

  “A real conversation?” Augum pressed, smiling at Maxine, who was suddenly distracted by the strap of her rucksack. “Tell me it wasn’t so.”

  “Yeah, we talked about death,” Leera replied. “Before you all jump to conclusions, Maxine believes there is no higher purpose than a good death. We had quite the animated discussion on the subject, and I feel like—” She looked over at Maxine, who was pointedly looking away, cheeks a little crimson. “—I feel like I understand her a little better.” She punched Maxine’s shoulder. “But only a little.”

  Maxine’s lips thinned. “She also couldn’t shut up about you. Made me want to vomit.”

  “I think you told me to shut up no less than three times.”

  “Pretty sure it was four,” Maxine muttered, though the slightest smile crept into the corner of her lips.

  Augum’s face lit with pretend surprise. “Whoa, whoa, did anyone else see that smirk? Unnameables help us all, we may have just witnessed, for only the second time in history, for the briefest, briefest moment …” He grabbed his head with his hands. “… a sense of humor.”

  Leera nodded vigorously, pinching at the air. “The tiniest, smallest glimpse.”

  Maxine forced the smile to disappear and shook her head. “You two make me sick.”

  “She’s trying really hard to hate us,” Leera said. “But you can’t fool us, Max.”

  “Maxine.”

  “Whatever. You can’t fool us. We know that under all that frowning and grumpiness is a lovable creature of a person. You know what you want right now? A hug. Come here and give ol’ Leera a hug—”

  “Ugh. Disgusting.” Maxine stomped away to stab at the fire with a stick, muttering under her breath about how she got herself in this mess.

  Leera kept her arms out, wiggling her fingers. “Look what you’re missing out on, Max. Look at this hug you’re passing up. Come on, everybody needs a little love. Don’t make me upgrade this into a group hug.”

  Maxine shuddered, face paling. “Stop before I puke.”

  Leera dropped her arms and sighed, then brightened as she turned to Augum and Bridget. “Now your turn. Tell us everything.”

  Augum went over everything he and Bridget had learned and experienced and, of course, slipped in Bridget’s mighty victory in an arm-wrestling competition—

  “Excuse me, what?” Leera blurted, throwing an arm around Bridget’s neck and dragging her close like a teasing sister. “Spill. Every. Detail.”

  “Look at her face,” Olaf noted, squeezing Bridget’s cheeks. “My girl’s embarrassed!”

  Bridget’s face was indeed redder than Augum had ever seen it, yet she took it all with grace, sitting quietly and letting Augum expound on every detail of Bridget’s triumph over the “biggest, meanest, ugliest bull of a man I have ever seen.”

  Leera squeezed Bridget’s neck harder while squealing in delight and lamenting how she wished she had been there to see the event in person. Augum went on to detail how the women all joined in a wild song about women standing together and how a little girl looked upon Bridget with adoring eyes before helping them with a stubborn ingredient. Throughout, Cry and Rafael Herzog the Historian kept careful notes, Esha listened intently with a lioness smile, and everyone’s face glowed with warmth.

  “Oh, and Fates help me there was real food,” Augum said, grabbing his stomach and closing his eyes in ecstasy.

  This was when Bridget finally animated back to life, going on about how “deevine” the spit-roasted pork dipped in maple syrup had been and how juicy the buttery lobster and how spicy and flavorful the sauces sitting in bread bowls—

  “Unnameables stop already!” Haylee cried out. She and the others, after being cooped up in the academy for over a month eating stale and tasteless provisions, were lying on the snowy ground imagining eating such sumptuous fare with closed eyes, many moaning in tortured delight. “Stop before I start crying,” she added, one hand rubbing her eyes and the other her stomach. “Ugh, please don’t let me die without tasting such fare again. Please …”

  But talk of food stubbornly remained the primary subject matter. It kept up through the final packing of the camp as the sun began to set behind a smattering of clouds, through needling each other for additional details of their quests, and through the beginning of their journey to the ship, which involved them walking in pairs with their protectors—assigned by Augum—into a windy and sparse bare-branched forest.

  “Ooh, and I found something useful in the Arcaner vault!” Leera squealed, finally piercing the bubble of food talk. “I had some time after we got back, so I got a little curious and started rooting about in there, and I discovered an unheard-of, absolutely insane extension to the Teleport spell.”

  “A suicide spell if you ask me,” Maxine muttered, walking beside Augum as his protector.

  “I’m not going to let you sour the mood on this one, Miss Grumpy Pants,” Leera countered.

  “I’m wearing a robe, not pants.”

  Leera ignored her. “Anyway, it’s mostly written in the old tongue. At first I tossed it aside, but then something about it—” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “—spoke to me, you know?”

  “What sort of extension?” Augum pressed, a little anxious. As if Teleport wasn’t difficult enough!

  “It’s called Spectral ’Port and it’s one heck of a neat spell,” Leera went on. “And Fates help me, it’s lethal as all hell. So you know how we’re slowly training to battle ’port, right?”

  Augum nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, imagine teleporting past an enemy, except you briefly reappear as you pass them to whack them with your blade, spectral-like, hence the name, Spectral ’Port. You appear just long enough, and I mean in the blink of an eye—” She snapped her fingers. “—to slice at them before resuming your teleport.” She frowned. “You look skeptical.”

  “Uh … maybe because that sounds impossible?”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t be easy to pull off, seeing as it’s an advanced extension practiced back in the day by a small cabal of highly trained Arcaners. But I know it’s possible considering a master warlock Arcaner wrote detailed notes on the extension and left it in the vault for future generations to find.” She dug a crumpled parchment from her pocket and proudly waved it like a flag. “And I’ve been studying it non-stop.”

  “She means that,” Arthur said. “She’s literally been gesticulating and mumbling non-stop to herself, even pacing. I tried to help but couldn’t understand any of the concepts. Total arcane gibberish. Way too complicated to figure out.”

  “All right, it is a little complicated,” Leera admitted.

  “A little?” Arthur bantered. “My 9th degree Shrink and Frenzy spell examinations were easier. And I haven’t been able to cast either spell since, not even once—not that my examination castings were anything to gloat about. That parchment of yours tired me out so much simply trying to read it that I had to take a nap.”

  “All right, it’s probably the most complicated thing I’ve ever tried to tackle, but you know what?” Leera nodded firmly to herself. “I think I can do it, I really do. I want to figure this one out. I’m set on being the first to cast this awesome extension in who knows how long—forever, I don’t know. But I’m going to do it.” She pointed at her spectacles and said in an exaggeratedly stupid voice, “Me thinks these be makin’ me smarter, har har.”

  Augum snorted a laugh, congratulated her on making such an interesting discovery, and asked to see the parchment. But when she handed it over, he discovered it wasn’t just a single parchment but rather ten parchments labeled A Detailed Instructional Treatise to the Advanced Te
leportation Extension Known as Spectral Teleport. It seemed Leera had shortened the name, which Augum found rolled off the tongue better anyway. Most of it was written in the old tongue, complicating matters immensely. Flipping through the pages, he spotted concepts like “arcane blink manifestation,” “locational awareness training,” and “rebound perpendicularity,” whatever that meant.

  “I’ve been digesting and interpreting every word, little by little,” Leera said proudly. “Every. Word. Managed to get to page three so far. It’s been challenging me on a whole new level. I don’t think my brain’s ever worked this hard. It’s been squealing in protest but I’ve been corralling it like a general. Seriously. Some crusty old Arcaner named Myrymydion wrote it. I think that’s how you say his name. Myrymeedion? Myrimidion? Whatever, something like that.”

  Augum tried reading the first paragraph, only to end up shaking his head in amazement. Arthur was right, it was arcane gobbledygook. “Here I am just trying to survive the Teleport spell, and you got to page three of this advanced gibberish already?”

  “Page three!” she echoed. “You betcha.”

  Augum tapped Bridget on the shoulder as she walked ahead, casually listening in. “Have a look at this.”

  Bridget took the parchments and began examining them. It didn’t take long for her to frown and then grimace, tilting her head this way and that before finally shaking her head altogether. “All right, I’m impressed, Lee.” She handed them back to Leera. “Please just be very careful with it. Maxine’s right, it sounds like a dangerous extension.”

  “Oh, it’s dangerous all right—” Leera smacked the parchments. “First page, after the introductory paragraph, and I quote, ‘Hark! Thou shall take heed that the Spectral Teleport extension is a complex piece of arcanery that shall not be underestimated, minimized, nor held in contempt. Henceforth, the study and concepts required are extraordinary in nature and must be understood in detail prior to the first attempted casting. Consider thou coldly warned.’ ”