Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  “It’s a long story.” He wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve. “I missed you, Nana.” It was his fond name for her, the only family he had ever known.

  “And I missed you, my dear Augum,” Mrs. Stone replied in her now youthful voice. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

  “I have so much to tell you, Nana,” and then the floodgates opened and he began blurting out one thing after another—how their kingdom had been weakened by the Legion War and the Canterrans used that to invade and how they were building an empire and he and the others were on the run and the enemy was here too and how he and his friends had become Arcaners—but so had the enemy, except not really—and how he’d managed to already dim his shield and he was deathly afraid of failure and they were here to bring back dragons and defeat Katrina and her Rivican siege engine named Orion— oh the things he had to say about Katrina, how she’d stolen their castle and renamed it—and how they had saved Esha the last living Dreadnought only to watch her submit to the enemy again and how Bridget was falling in love with Olaf and that Lien Ning said to say hello. On and on this went, one absurdity after another, until the venerable Mrs. Stone, arguably the most powerful and talented warlock to have ever walked Sithesia, brought her hands together, smiled serenely, and said, “My word, we are quite excited indeed. Come come, child, take a deep breath and tell me everything in detail, for I have been unable to keep up with the goings-on of the kingdoms due to the arcane demands of watching through the plane.”

  And so Augum took a deep breath and began the long tale of everything worthy of telling. As he spoke, the others began to stir in their tents, and when Leera sleepily popped her head out of hers, she squealed like a schoolgirl—and kept squealing as she rushed out, tripping midway over Olaf, before scrambling back to her feet and hurrying to hug Mrs. Stone. Then she snatched Augum up and twirled him about along with everyone else who ended up bolting out of their tents thinking they were under attack. Soon all the companions were jumping up and down and squealing, Augum and Olaf among them, while Mrs. Stone dotingly looked on, shaking her head in the same fashion as the hundred-year-old wise woman who’d had it up to here with a bunch of rabble-rousing fourteen-year-olds.

  By then, the Canterrans, who had slept curled together like a pack of wolves in the frigid air, had woken and watched from a distance with more than some trepidation—many were glancing over their shoulders as if contemplating a rather hasty retreat.

  After Leera hugged her a fourth time, Mrs. Stone extended her in the same manner she had Augum and proudly examined her from head to toe. “You have become a beautiful young woman, Leera. And dear me, spectacles too. You look so erudite. My, how you’ve changed. And you too, Bridget. Come here, let me take a better look at you.” She placed Bridget before her. Bridget straightened as Mrs. Stone shook her head, repeating, “Goodness me. Goodness, goodness me …”

  Bridget abruptly hugged Mrs. Stone again and burst into tears, blubbering on about all the friends they had lost since the war, including “Caireen and Isaac and Naoki and Maxine and … Oh, Mrs. Stone, it’s horrible, it was all my fault that the Canterrans have come. I was the one who gave us up in a stupid arm-wrestling challenge, and I can’t stop thinking about how awful of a person I am, how I let everyone down and—”

  Mrs. Stone patted Bridget’s back consolingly. “All right, hush, my dear. Hush now. We will deal with all of those feelings in a proper memorial ceremony.”

  Bridget nodded fervently—and she wasn’t the only one; others nodded along with her, as if they were the same fourteen-year-olds eager to please, to belong, as when they had first met her what felt like forever ago.

  “And how is your training coming along, young lady?”

  “All right, I guess.”

  “Show me.”

  “Now?”

  “Indeed. Hmm, how about …” Mrs. Stone tapped her chin as she pondered the matter like they had all the time in the world. “How about you show me what the strength of your Fear spell is. Let us situation together. I am your opponent—” She stepped back and clasped her hands. “—and you will hit me as hard as you can with it.”

  Bridget glanced at the Canterrans standing in a tight group and gawking. “Okay …” She bowed ceremonially, flaring eight ivy rings around her forearm. Then she lashed out with a hand, twisting it at the last moment and curling her fingers inward as if squeezing a lemon. “Dreadus terrablus!”

  Mrs. Stone’s brows rose slightly. “An accomplished casting for someone so young. You have been training diligently, I see.”

  “We have, Mrs. Stone, and we’ve been using your training principles. Jez has kept us busy, as has the academy, though they don’t train us as hard as they used to in your day.”

  “And you, Great-grandson—how is that Telekinesis coming along?”

  Augum smiled as he took Bridget’s place, for Telekinesis was the very first spell he had learned under her potent supervision. Mrs. Stone in turn raised a fist and said, “Pull it toward you—and hold back you shall not.”

  “Yes, Nana.” Augum bowed and flared eight lightning rings, then reached out and gripped at the air before pulling with all his might. The space around him warped—yet Mrs. Stone’s hand did not move one iota.

  “Field warp. I am impressed, Great-grandson. I would consider your Telekinesis somewhere between the 15th and 16th degree in strength. Excellent work indeed.”

  “Thank you, Nana, I practice in my spare time.”

  “It most certainly shows. Leera—step up to the mark, young lady. Let us see how you have been coming along. Second Offensive, if you please.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone.” Leera giddily took Augum’s place, bowed, flared her arm rings, and slapped her wrists together, shouting, “Annihilo bato!” Two fierce jets of water shot at Mrs. Stone, who calmly batted them aside with a briefly summoned lightning shield as if they were gnats.

  “Excellent, young lady.”

  Leera beamed as she stepped between Augum and Bridget.

  Mrs. Stone next spoke with Jengo, complimenting him on his healer training, for the trio had piped up about how diligent he had been; shook Olaf’s hand and congratulated him on deciding to give the academy another go, for Augum and Leera spilled the news, and congratulated him on winning Bridget’s affections; and finally inquired about Haylee’s health and her studies like an affectionate grandmother, one who relished every moment.

  “And now all together,” Mrs. Stone said after concluding with them individually. “Your shields. Let me see them.”

  The six Arcaners summoned their shields, with Augum tensing at his shield’s half-brightness.

  Mrs. Stone placed a hand over her mouth and shook her head. “My, oh my. My, oh my …”

  The friends exchanged proud looks, all except for Augum, who dropped his eyes in shame.

  “Never did I think such a day would come. And yet … here we are.” She clasped her hands before her, eyes misty. “What a thing to behold.”

  Leera piped up on Augum’s behalf. “Mrs. Stone—Augum’s shield is only dim because he had to cast a witch ritual to get us into Ley.”

  “So I gathered, dear.”

  “You … you know about that stuff?”

  “I have a lot to tell you as well. And the Arcaner course? How does it fare?”

  “Resurrected,” Augum replied. “Sort of,” and he and the others took turns explaining all about the course and their newly earned titles and code of honor. One thing led to another and they found themselves talking about the academy, how it was domed over in a state of siege.

  “His father is responsible,” Haylee said when they finished, nodding at the Canterran prince. The enemy looked on with stoic fear, for by then they certainly suspected that this was not a trick and that the legendary now-young-again master warlock Anna Atticus Stone was there before them and could surely smite them with nothing more than a wave of her hand.

  “The one with the goatee is the heir to the Canterran empire,” Haylee add
ed like a tattletale informing a schoolyard teacher of the culprit. Mrs. Stone, who had been Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts for no less than thirty-five years, tended to have that effect on people.

  “I do not recognize the cut of their robes,” Mrs. Stone said. “Are they Canterran monks?”

  “Path cultists, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget replied. “More specifically, Path Archons,” and she went on to explain that The Path was taking over Solia, brainwashing people with regressive thinking. Then she described what Emperor Samuel had done and how he was bent on balancing out what he believed the other kingdoms owed Canterra in terms of lives, and how in his twisted mind womankind owed mankind an equal amount of deaths and how he was keeping score and how it was all supposedly to bring about The Third Great Peace—

  “Mercy me, what manner of logic is this?” Mrs. Stone asked, searching their faces. “Hmm?” When they could give no clear answer, she turned on her heel and began striding over to the Canterrans. The friends exchanged an excited look—oh, the bastards were going to get it now!—and followed like cubs trailing their lioness mother, who was about to tear out the throats of the hyenas that had dared to harass her children.

  The Canterrans stiffened at her approach, with Gavinius standing tallest in the front. Absurdly, he sucked in his breath and puffed out his chest, as if such a thing could intimidate the legendary Anna Atticus Stone.

  Mrs. Stone—and this was the young Mrs. Stone in her early thirties, when historians said she had been a ruthless and formidable dueler who had justly earned the nickname the “Arcane Artist”—stopped to stand before the Canterrans, examining them as if they were horses for purchase.

  The friends gathered behind her, most unable to keep from smirking.

  Gavinius cleared his throat. “I am His Royal Highness Prince Gavinius Mercel Frankephelius Sepherin the First, Son of Emperor Samuel Sepherin, Heir to the Canterran Empire.”

  “Mmm.”

  Gavinius swallowed. “In the tradition of the old way, I—er, we—come to Ley to formally request an equal and fair opportunity to summon—to learn to summon, that is—our own dragons. The balance of power is shifting in Sithesia, and if these here Arcaners—” He paused to clear his throat once more. “If they are allowed dragons without a check on their powers, they would destroy all the kingdoms, as they nearly did in the past. We hereby demand equal opportunity to summon our own dragons to counter the coming certain corruption of the Arcaners.”

  “Mmm.”

  His speech delivered, Gavinius nodded, apparently having run out of things to say.

  Like a statue carved from disapproval, Mrs. Stone stared at him for a time that stretched on, until the heir to the Canterran empire began to go red—yet he refused to look away.

  “You come uninvited,” Mrs. Stone at last stated.

  “As do they,” Edwin blurted, pointing a finger in Augum’s face. But then he paled when Mrs. Stone’s gaze locked onto him. “Er … Great One,” he squeaked, receiving a repulsed look from his cohorts.

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Stone replied, drawing worried looks from the friends. So they too would be considered uninvited. But what did that mean?

  “Are you aware of Leyan customs, customs that do not permit tomfoolery of any sort?”

  “We are,” Gavinius replied. “And we have been made aware of the penalties, including total isolation, complete mind wiping, and even death. But we did not come to cause trouble. We came for knowledge. And we came to petition the council directly.”

  “And who among you sacrificed to open the portal?” she asked the Canterrans. “Hmm?”

  “We bravely gave up one of our own young men,” Gavinius replied.

  “And that opened the portal, did it?”

  Gavinius did not reply, perhaps knowing she would see through a lie as if it were glass.

  “Augum opened the portal, Mrs. Stone,” Haylee said. “And for that, he was made to give up Augum’s Defender, the Dreadnought breastplate gifted to him for releasing them from their bonds. The witch also dimmed his shield. And—” She pointed rather rudely at Gavinius. “—that one there murdered Maxine, a companion of ours.”

  “It was done out of self-defense,” Gavinius blurted, “for she would have murdered my future sister-in-law!” He nodded at the friends. “These villains are holding her uncle hostage, as well as my beloved younger brother—”

  “Like father like son,” Leera sniped. “Both are murdering scoundrels!”

  Gavinius’s reply was instant. “Few have taken more lives than the Lord of the Legion, whose son stands before us in this very moment.” He raised his chin. “We are only doing what we can to bring about The Third Great Peace. We are nothing more than pious—”

  Mrs. Stone slightly raised two fingers and he instantly stopped talking. Her gaze wandered to the horizon opposite the sun, where the stars could still be seen in all their brilliance, resulting in a strange effect of two worlds blending together. She pondered the matter as if none of them were waiting in anxious expectation.

  Ley is starting to affect her, Augum realized, remembering that prior to entering Ley she rarely had time for their “nonsense,” as she liked to call it. But then, she had been a very old woman conscious of the preciousness of time.

  “I recognize your claim,” Mrs. Stone finally said, eyes locked on the vibrant horizon. “And I must respect the fact that you, or perhaps the one who sent you, has done his historical research. That said, the others stand observing change, in readiness for your arrival. A council of the elders shall be convened to discuss the matter.” She placed her gaze on the Canterrans. “You have not made the necessary sacrifices to enter Ley. As penance, you shall walk to The Pillars of Absalon bare of foot, after which you shall be put on trial before the council.”

  “An insult of the highest order!” Gavinius spat.

  She raised a finger. “And you shall hold your tongue the entire journey—not a word, not to each other, not even in passing or accident—

  beginning this very moment.” She waited to hear a note of dissent, but none came. “Good. And I would be most careful if I were you to adhere to the penance.”

  The Canterrans at last exchanged cagey looks. Gavinius opened his mouth to say something else, only to close it, no doubt fearing her wrath.

  “Wait,” Augum blurted, “they’re going to be heard by the council?”

  “Indeed they are, Great-grandson.”

  Augum leveled his gaze at Gavinius, watching his reaction carefully. “There is something else that they want besides equality of dragon knowledge. The emperor is deathly ill. I suspect they will petition to have him invited to Ley so that he can escape his illness and continue with his diabolical plans.”

  As the Canterrans ballooned from the accusation, Gavinius went beet red and curled shaking fists, raising one and opening it as if wishing he could strangle Augum then and there. Yet with Mrs. Stone watching him, he somehow found the discipline to remain silent.

  “Their reaction betrays the truth of the accusation,” Augum said. “The emperor has fallen ill creating necromantic Arcaners with a twisted code of honor. All of this can easily be proven upon examination.”

  “Mmm. Then the point will have to be brought forth before the council, for it is forbidden to seek an invitation merely to escape death. The matter will be discussed at length and brought to light. Judgment shall be passed.”

  Gavinius was now shaking with impotent fury.

  Mrs. Stone raised a single eyebrow at him. “Is there something His Highness wishes to say?” When he did not respond, she added, “Most sensible.” She raised a graceful hand to the horizon. “The Pillars are in the direction of the sun. Be sure you maintain that direction, for the sun will pass.” She turned to the companions. “Leave all of your water and provisions.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the friends said and withdrew their waterskins and all of their food and left them on the ground.

  “More than you deserve,” Leera muttered, thro
wing her waterskin at Gavinius’s feet. He only curled his lip at her.

  Mrs. Stone turned her back on the Canterrans and reached out her hands, which the friends took, forming a circle. She swept her gaze at them, drinking in their sight once more, smiled, and incanted, “Impetus peragro grapa lestato exa exaei.”

  The last thing Augum saw before his body was yanked away was an enraged Gavinius, fists still balled, goatee quivering. It was the same sort of rage that simmered under the surface within his own soul.

  Surprises

  Augum found himself looking up at enormous wind-smoothed obelisks made of stacked sandstone blocks. They shot skyward hundreds of feet like barren tree trunks and dotted a plateau that overlooked a desert filled with shallow crevasses. The small group of people standing amongst these behemoths appeared like ants in comparison. The only other major piece of terrain was a small mountain near one side of the obelisks that jutted to the black sun- and star-filled sky.

  “As you may or may not remember, the scions had borrowed their power from Ley,” Mrs. Stone said, watching their faces as they turned in place to look around in wonder. “Unfortunately, the way that arcanery functioned meant that the more scions one possessed the more chaotic Ley became. When the Lord of the Legion acquired his sixth scion, this plane teetered on the brink of destruction. The winds alone—” She shook her head as she too glanced up at the obelisks. “It was a sight to behold, I assure of that. As if a perpetual hurricane settled on the plane.”

  She nodded at the nearest obelisk. “But those winds uncovered structures hidden under eons of time, as if a great hourglass had been turned over. We surmise they are dedications to ancient gods, but we cannot be sure.” She looked down. “And below us rests the ancient underground city of Absalon.”

  “Where’s the entrance, Nana?” Augum asked, remembering entering Absalon through a boulder.

  Mrs. Stone nodded at the nearby mountain. “Up there.”

  Augum saw that the very top of the mountain resembled the boulder entrance, which used to be at ground level—that was how much sand had been displaced by the raging winds.