Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  “Thou mock, but a lion in its death throes is doubly dangerous. Thou will only enrage that lion, who will feast upon the hyenas responsible for the denial of his petition of acceptance.” Tyranecron looked coldly over at Augum, who quickly found everyone gazing at him.

  Augum looked down the table at Gavinius, who was positively quivering with rage at that point. By voicing that one observation about the emperor wanting to cheat death, Augum had simultaneously denied a father eternal life and a son an empire—at least until the father’s passing. Understanding the gravity of what had taken place, he did not take any satisfaction whatsoever from what he had justly done. Instead, he felt a hollow pang in his heart, for he now knew that the emperor, who would be enraged that Augum had denied him eternity in Ley, would take out that rage on Solia … and on those whom Augum loved.

  Augum stared at Gavinius, knowing one thing for certain—he had to be vanquished. The heir to the empire could not be allowed to return to Sithesia under any circumstance—none of them could.

  Tyranecron swept an imperious black-eyed gaze over the companions once more. “War hath been declared, Anna, and my wolves shall devour thy sheep.”

  Mrs. Stone did not hesitate with a response, her voice laced with acid. “Look upon them well, Tyranecron, for these young warriors have vanquished none other than the Lord of the Legion, whom as I recall you once declared as ‘the prophet to usher in the sacred balance’ prior to his downfall. You have gained clout crying for that balance, manipulating your way onto the elder council. You are nothing more than a bitter necromancer eager for relevance.”

  Now Augum knew in what context he had heard that name before—Tyranecron was a necromancer long thought to have mysteriously vanished an eon ago. But it was now apparent that he had simply accepted an invitation to Ley.

  The friends and the Canterrans exchanged looks, each for different reasons. Whereas the Canterrans were deeply offended by Mrs. Stone, hissing insults under their breath like, “She dares to insult His Magnificence,” and “She needs to be reprimanded,” the friends nodded in agreement, some even rapping the table with their knuckles—until Mrs. Stone flashed them a look that told them to cease such conduct, which they immediately did.

  Tyranecron smacked his lips in distaste. “Much time hath I to sharpen the blade of command. Where hath I failed before, now shall I prevail, for effort and study shall see me through the coming trials. Triumph and ferocity will bring balance, whether thou be pleased with it or woeful. What thou fails to see is thine own part thou shall play in its resurrection. Invoked hath I equa cogniata sirturea, and thee I graciously thank for thy time constructing the now-communal gate. We are now on equal terms, Anna.”

  “Unlike you, Tyranecron, I do not fear the sharing of knowledge. Education ultimately leads to enlightenment. Education is the enemy of the greedy. Education is the enemy of the corrupt.”

  Tyranecron grunted. “Then educate them well, Anna, for the jungle giveth no quarter, nor doth it giveth compassion,” and he shuffled off to take a place at the opposite head of the table, staff tapping on the stone slabs with each step.

  Mrs. Stone sat back down, folding her hands serenely in her lap.

  “In his day he had been a most brutal commander,” Myrymydion noted, watching the old Leyan quietly confer with his charges at the other end of the table. “He captured the Canterran throne for a time, but they deposed him on account of beastly brutality. Yet a solicitation did come from Ley, for display he did a most profound interest in academic necromancy. In that epoch, knowledge trumped ruthlessness.”

  “What did that var io invocation mean, sir?” Augum asked.

  “Var io balan,” Myrymydion replied, still gazing down the table. “War is balance. In translation, combined with Elder Tyranecron’s other invocations, killeth you the Canterrans may—in any plane but this, meaning fair’s fair in Sithesia … and Endraga Ra.”

  “So it was an official declaration of war between our two parties, putting everyone on notice,” Augum said, rubbing circles into his temples in a thoughtful manner. “And since they get to use the portal, they could set traps on the other side for us.”

  Mrs. Stone was watching him. “They may, but it would be risky, for dragons are drawn to arcanery like moths to flame. The Canterrans will have to do what we do—immediately teleport away from the portal so as not to draw dragons close. But I have asked Tyranecron for a modicum of mutual fairness so that neither party places traps at the portal entrance.” She leaned forward. “Yes, it is a grand game we must learn how to play. Let us begin those lessons.”

  The Library

  The friends spent the remainder of the morning in the library being tutored by Dragoon Myrymydion, Mrs. Stone, and Akeya “The Blackest Howl.” Topics of research included animals and monsters to watch out for, how to survive in the jungle, which spells and Arcaner simuls were optimal and when to use them, and so on, all information based on Mrs. Stone’s research, as well as research left behind by Arcaners of old.

  The Canterrans sat a few tables over studying the same subject, benefiting from visits by Akeya. They kept to themselves, working as a team like the Solians, except occasionally signing skyward while mumbling a Path prayer.

  Augum caught Gavinius glaring at him before Tyranecron snapped his fingers, turning Gavinius’s attention back to his studies. Augum found it ironic that the man believed himself an instrument of a future Third Great Peace, yet nothing but violence billowed off of him. But he also recognized the man shared certain ambitions with Augum, for just as Augum’s cube floated alongside him so did a book float alongside Gavinius, a training regimen the man had directly learned from Augum.

  Leera snapped her fingers.

  Augum looked over at her. “Yes?”

  “You’re glaring at him.”

  “Am I?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Augum rubbed his eyes and returned to his studies.

  But it was what the friends learned at the end of that morning, once the Canterrans had departed for an early lunch, that proved most interesting, prompted by a question on their minds the entire time.

  “Mrs. Stone, forgive me,” Jengo began, shaking his head at the slew of parchments and open tomes before him on the desk, “and perhaps I am being obtuse, but I fail to see what the goal is here.”

  “Go on,” Mrs. Stone said. She stood between Akeya and Myrymydion, the three of them looking over the Arcaners’ shoulders and guiding their research. The friends sat at a long and curving desk that ran along the inner banister that surrounded the floor, affording an excellent view of the library.

  “Well, I have a number of questions, Mrs. Stone. Exactly what is the purpose of entering Endraga Ra? How do we learn how to summon a dragon that way? And what is the mechanism involved that would eventually allow us to learn that amazing power? Will the dragons teach it to us?”

  “Youthful impatience rears its head,” Akeya noted with a wry grin aimed at Mrs. Stone.

  “Very well then,” Mrs. Stone said with a sigh, and began pacing behind them. The friends turned in their seats, arms resting on the backs of their chairs as they watched her. “I shall leave it to Dragoon Myrymydion, who has a deeper understanding of Arcaner spell methodology, to explain the mechanism. But I can touch upon the central goal. First, however, you must understand that dragons gain the most strength from consuming each other’s eggs.”

  This made the friends exchange perplexed looks.

  “As a result, they routinely steal each other’s eggs and bring them back to their nests. They use these eggs as nourishment and to feed their young, for the eggs have unmatched potency. Sometimes they save them for a future meal, sometimes as gifts for potential mates and allies—Arcaners of old have even observed eggs being used as hostages. Thus, if the dragon is cornered, it may offer the location of its eggs in exchange for life.” She stopped pacing to glance over at Dragoon Myrymydion, who continued pacing in her place.

  “Benefit you this does as
such,” the man began, habitually tracing his tattooed mustache with a finger as if it were real. “Should rescue you one of these eggs and henceforth return it to its dragon parent, time that dragon may allow you to spend with it in the nest.”

  Leera was looking between him and Mrs. Stone. “May, sir? May?”

  “Yes. Alas, there have been historical occasions the dragon instead ate the Arcaner after considering them an interloper.”

  “That’s, uh, not very reassuring,” Augum mumbled. His training cube was set to Sir Pawsalot and floated underneath his desk, and Leera’s portrait was in his pocket. He snuck peeks at it now and then, smiling to himself.

  “Unfortunately, the tablets are rather vague on the matter.”

  “But why would we want to spend the night, sir?”

  Myrymydion raised a thick finger as he continued pacing. “Ah, the crux. I have been duly informed that thou art familiar with the principle of tuning—”

  “We need to tune to it?” Augum blurted, only to clear his throat upon receiving a reproachful look from Mrs. Stone. “I mean, sir?”

  “Indeed. And the greater span of time sit you by its side without the dragon—pardon me you must for saying so—eating you, then the greater the degree of tuning. The records are unclear how that tuning affects the Arcaner, but there are indications a trial may be involved.”

  Haylee groaned. “As if saving a dragon’s egg and bringing it back wasn’t enough of a trial …”

  “How long does the tuning take, sir?” Olaf pressed.

  “At least a full day, Dragoon Hroljassen. What more, match must your element to the parent, else its teeth you shall feel upon your flesh.”

  Bridget raised two fingers.

  Myrymydion stopped pacing to nod at her. “Dragoon Burns.”

  “And what do we do with this tuning, sir? I mean, how does it work?”

  “Again, unclear the tablets are in this regard, Dragoon Burns, but from our study, advantageous we believe it will be to train you on what we know of the Spirit of the Dragon simul. Comprehend I not its inner workings, but guess Anna and I can on its base construction.” He nodded at Augum, who had raised a finger. “Dragoon Stone.”

  “Are you going to attempt the trial with us, sir?”

  “Say the old tablets that such an endeavor would result in naught but mine death, for I am Leyan. The records theorize that is a disqualification. But accompany you I shall for the start of your journey.”

  Leera raised a finger next.

  “Dragoon Jones.”

  “What, uh, what degree would the Spirit of the Dragon simul be considered, sir?”

  “Of that there is little doubt, Dragoon Jones. The simul is 15th degree.”

  Augum was surprised. “I would have thought it to be 20th at the very least, sir—or even a 20th master level spell.”

  Akeya jumped in. “Ah, but this spell is considered Leyan, Dragoon Stone.” She stood nearby, her single arm folded across her chest, hand gripping her ebony chin.

  “Same as the Centarro spell,” Augum noted. It was only 3rd degree yet one of the trio’s most powerful spells.

  “And in times of old,” Akeya went on, “the spell-strength difference between Leyan spells and Sithesian spells was almost celestial. We are talking Pre Founding spell knowledge that had to later be translated and retranslated as language evolved. We are talking arcaneological casting ratios and complexifying magnifiers of the sort involved with the crafting of the scions.”

  “Precisely,” Mrs. Stone said, “which begs the question, what sorts of Leyan spells go beyond this mighty simul? The answer very well may rest within this library. Perhaps one day, when you have attained the legendary degrees and your face has many wrinkles in the looking glass, and you are in need of education for education’s sake, you will return as I have to take that next step in acquiring knowledge.” She winked. “Or perhaps by then you will not need to.”

  The friends exchanged inspired looks.

  But that was all a long way off and Augum wanted to get back to the subject of the Spirit of the Dragon simul. “Dragoon Myrymydion, sir—you do not know this simul, do you?”

  “Correct thou art, Dragoon Stone, that I know it not, and though mentoring me Anna has been in some of its more complicated arcaneological principles, learn the simul neither of us can.”

  “I do not understand,” Augum replied, glancing between them. “With respect, sir, how is it possible that my great-grandmother can teach you but neither of you can learn it?”

  “Anna has stepped onto a new plane of knowledge,” Akeya replied. “In her arcaneological pursuit, she has acquired one of the rarest gifts—tendril sight. She can see tendril arcanery in real time.”

  “Like dragons do,” Augum whispered, chills running over his skin. He hadn’t realized she could see arcanery all the time now.

  “Like dragons do, yes,” Mrs. Stone said as the friends gaped in wonder at her. This was beyond a feat of legend, this was a power straight out of children’s warlock stories, a power granted only to the Unnameables!

  “Why didn’t you tell us when we were discussing the subject in Endraga Ra, Nana?” Augum asked, a little hurt.

  “I believed it would have distracted you.”

  Although Augum disagreed, he did not dare press the point. “How did you learn the skill?”

  “I suspect it was a result of three factors—diligent study and a wise mentor, combined with spending time with dragons, which goes back to my earlier theory of them being the source of all arcanery.”

  “Anna is being modest and simplifying an incredibly complex process,” Akeya countered. “She has spent many months alongside dragons, studying them and preparing for this tutorial that would see you victorious in your quest, for she saw where things were headed as if she were a Seer. Only the great Arcane Artist standing before you could survive that long in Endraga Ra, could penetrate that level of knowledge, could piece together myriad experiences and skills—her thirty-five years as a headmistress, her unbounded curiosity, her deep arcaneological understanding of the principles of the craft, and her eagerness to maintain focus while absorbing the teachings of the wisest Leyan amongst us, Krakatos, a millennial who passed on a couple key arcaneological principles well beyond the grasp of us ‘ordinary’ beings.”

  A profound silence fell among the friends as they gaped at Mrs. Stone. Were they looking at the next Unnameable in this youthful-again woman, a woman who seemed to be exploring—no, transcending—the bounds of arcanery itself?

  For her part, Mrs. Stone only pressed her lips together. Augum remembered well that she considered most flattery “sheer nonsense,” often saying things like “I am not going to pamper your vanity,” or “Studiousness should be the concern of every soul, not absurdities such as fame or glory or possessions.”

  “Stepped have I into Endraga Ra on my own,” Myrymydion said in a quiet voice, “but only twice, and ashamed I am not to confess that each time I have found myself teleporting for my very life, tail tucked between my legs. I can only survive in that harsh plane with Anna’s guidance and protection. Much reason there is Tyranecron fears her more than any other, for she is, and a better word nay can I dream of … fearless.”

  “But you will go beyond,” Mrs. Stone said to the friends. “I will train you to penetrate the jungle on your own. I will train you to survive. And together, Dragoon Myrymydion and I will train you on the Spirit of the Dragon simul—a simul not even we know how to cast.”

  Augum ran a hand through his hair. This was one audacious plan. “And what about the Canterrans? How will they learn to summon their necromantic dragons?”

  Mrs. Stone smiled. “Ah, now things get interesting.”

  Leera flashed Augum a deadpan As if things weren’t interesting enough! look.

  “They will need to bring the necromantic dragon an offering. And you are allowed one guess as to the type of offering that will be prized above all others.”

  Jengo swallowed hard. “Us
…?”

  “Quite right. A warlock ranks as the highest offering a necromantic dragon could receive, followed by a dragon egg. The challenge The Path Archons face is to not get eaten in the process.”

  “Which means we’ll be hunted in there,” Haylee said in a shaky voice. “Not only by everything that moves, but by the Canterrans too.”

  “Hence all the teleport training,” Augum muttered. He wished he had spent more time learning how to sniff out teleportation direction, which would in turn help him cover his own tracks—or so the theory went. Among them, only Bridget had learned how to accurately guess the direction of an opponent’s teleportation. The skill was not an easy one to master, and in that regard he had some hope that the Canterrans would fail their lessons—not accounting for other necromantic powers, that is.

  Myrymydion nodded. “To the best of his abilities Tyranecron will train his acolytes, and with that knowledge they will attempt to hunt you down. A focused and dangerous opponent he will be, for privileges necromancy doth indeed possess.”

  The friends pondered that thought a little while.

  “So do necromantic dragons consider warlock souls to be a tasty treat?” Leera pressed.

  Augum, recalling that Orion fed on warlocks, wondered if that ability had somehow been copied from a necromantic dragon.

  “Something to that effect,” Mrs. Stone replied.

  “Can we not work as a team in there, Mrs. Stone?” Jengo pressed.

  “You can at first, but the final quest to save a dragon egg will have to be performed on your own, as the egg cannot have the scent of any other human on it except its rescuer’s. And I mean not even a whiff, for that will confuse the parent dragon and result in a rather … gruesome death.”

  Her face softened with compassion. “As you can see, you have many challenges before you, and thus much to learn. Therefore, let us begin by strengthening your foundation—let us delve deeply into teleportation, without which you cannot traverse Endraga Ra on your own. And let us do it in a Teleport Trainer, where I shall demand all of your concentration for the next tenday.”