Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  The Pilgrimage

  A grueling seven days later, in the middle of an unknown Leyan ocean and underneath a hot sun and cloudless black sky full of brilliant stars, stood a column made of orange stone blocks. Above that column, which was perhaps wide enough for three people to stand on, floated a purple Leyan watermelon.

  There was a loud thwomp as Leera popped into existence before the floating fruit. She sliced through it with her summoned watery shortsword and disappeared an eyeblink later, only to reappear along the teleport line on another column one hundred feet beyond. She looked back in time to witness the Leyan watermelon splat into the ground in pieces and punched the air with her fist, jumping and shouting, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yeeeees!” nearly falling off the column in the process.

  The friends, witnessing her first successful Spectral Teleport casting after countless failures, clapped and hooted and hollered from a nearby stone platform. The celebration was even louder than when Haylee, Jengo and Olaf had cast Teleport for the first time ever, a feat that had bolstered Olaf’s casting confidence, for he had assumed he had crashed into his ceiling long ago. Such was Anna Atticus Stone’s training skill.

  Leera stopped her shouting to incant, “Impetus peragro,” and reappeared beside them with another thwomp, only to be mobbed in a group hug while Mrs. Stone and Dragoon Myrymydion looked on. Around them a forest of columns stretched into the distance in ever-widening spreads. Blue waves rhythmically crashed into the columns, throwing up salty sea spray.

  Under the mentorship of Mrs. Stone and Myrymydion, the friends had spent seven days training morning until night, primarily on the Teleport spell, with the trio additionally learning the 9th degree Craft Trap elemental spell. The trio were now able to teleport almost flawlessly, to the point where Augum had zero doubt in his confidence with it and could even occasionally snap it off mid-battle with only a short pause to concentrate—otherwise known as the elusive Battle Teleport extension. Though no one yet felt comfortable enough with the extension to risk using it in combat. As for Olaf, Jengo and Haylee, Mrs. Stone judged their competence with the spell as “passably acceptable for the task ahead.” And with regards to the Craft Trap spell, a fun if not dangerous spell to play around with, the trio had quickly grasped its rudiments.

  They had even eaten their meals out on that platform amid storms and high winds. Mrs. Stone had not let up, insisting they trained until they were sick to their stomachs—and beyond. It was the old way of training, the way of nose bleeds and ear bleeds and vomiting and crying and loss of consciousness. Yet they had persevered. Mrs. Stone and Dragoon Myrymydion had even lectured on various topics during their breaks, so there was always something to learn. Throughout, when he had spare energy, Augum trained with his cube, and everyone trained up their reflexes using the exercise regimens they had concocted. They received some additional help from Myrymydion and Mrs. Stone, both of whom suggested improvements on the exercises and passed on exercises they themselves had learned long ago.

  But no one other than Leera had wanted to even so much as experiment with Spectral Teleport, the demanding—and frightfully dangerous—Teleport extension. Only she had the gumption, interest and wherewithal to learn it. Whereas she understood the Teleport spell’s mechanics on a deeper level and thus excelled at it, the others were simply content to master the basics. Even Mrs. Stone said it was an extension that one “either had it in them to learn or one did not.” Despite her daring and Myrymydion’s expert mentorship, Leera had still experienced a series of close calls and nasty fumbles that required Jengo’s emergency attention—and caused more than a little panic to well up in Augum, though he bit his tongue, knowing saying anything—especially as someone who had taken countless foolish risks—would make him a massive hypocrite.

  With Mrs. Stone’s oversight, the trio, who could cast the Reveal spell, had also gained a better understanding of how to sniff out the direction of an opponent’s teleportation, though as had happened in the academy, only Bridget attained any sort of proficiency at the skill.

  “Present thyself, Dragoon Jones,” Dragoon Myrymydion said, and a preening Leera traipsed along the platform to stand before the accomplished Arcaner. “I judge it a satisfactory first casting.”

  Leera, who had no doubt been expecting higher praise, removed her sea-sprayed spectacles and nodded as she focused on cleaning them with a linen cloth.

  “But saw I much room for improvement,” Dragoon Myrymydion went on. “Now let my old ears hear the annunciation of the entire phrase while thou summons the energy to cast it—but take care not to incant the spell in the real. Anna, if I may borrow thine eyes.”

  Mrs. Stone stepped beside the dragoon, who nodded at Leera to go ahead.

  Leera replaced her spectacles, straightened, and snapped off the incantation, “Impetus peragro spectra xae.”

  Mrs. Stone, who could see the tendrils as Leera cast them, studied the space around her with a serious expression. Sometimes to aid their learning she either demanded that the trio cast the Reveal spell to study the tendrils in real time, or made the tendrils visible and pointed out the mechanics, though such lessons were often beyond their comprehension in the time allotted.

  “Mmm, yes, I see,” she noted after conferring with Dragoon Myrymydion. “Now repeat the phrase with a slight softening of the final syllable, so instead of pronouncing it xaa, try pronouncing it xay.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone.” Leera took a breath. “Impetus peragro spectra xae.”

  Mrs. Stone studied the space around her once more. “Yes, that indeed seemed to have improved the casting. You should henceforth find a lesser draw upon your stamina. Now we want you to repeat the casting five times in a row, young lady.”

  “Five—?”

  “We shall suffer none of your nonsense, child.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Stone, Dragoon Myrymydion. I’ll get on it.” Only Mrs. Stone could get away with calling them children.

  Mrs. Stone waved a hand and five new watermelons popped into existence above various columns. Meanwhile, Augum gave his beloved a mournful look, knowing she would end up on her knees with a nosebleed by the third casting, or even in the ocean and would have to be fished out for the umpteenth time by Mrs. Stone or Myrymydion, as had happened to all of them countless times. Sometimes Leera did the fishing too, for her element gave her great advantage in the water.

  “And as for the rest of you gawkers, I want to see five teleportation skips in a wide circle, ending up back at this platform.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused dully, exhausted from already performing that exact exercise a few times that day.

  But Augum had a different plan. “Nana, could I be excused, please? I’ve been neglecting my pilgrimage too long as is.”

  “How many on this day, Dragoon Stone?” Myrymydion asked.

  “I want to perform four in a row, sir.”

  “Ambitious. Pray do tell which ones.”

  “I need to lie still for one full day without uttering a word. I need to eat, drink and say nothing and be seen by no one for another full day while walking to the Shrine of the Ancients from Absalon, which will have to be performed at sunrise. I need to spend an entire day performing proata mentora for you, uh, Leyans, sir. But the one I want to start with is reviewing all my notes in Arcaner studies, and I was rather hoping that you would counsel me in that regard, sir.”

  Myrymydion looked to Mrs. Stone. “What say you, Anna?”

  Mrs. Stone replied to the elder dragoon while staring at Augum. “Although his proficiency in Teleport is satisfactory, I would like to see improvement in his ability to sniff out the direction of teleportation.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, Tyranecron has already begun sending his pack of wolves into Endraga Ra, and we cannot be left too far behind.” She nodded. “I give you leave, Great-grandson, under Dragoon Myrymydion’s watchful tutelage, to fulfill your pilgrimage. And I wish you much luck in the endeavor.”

  “Thank you, Nana.”

  The other
s took their turns saying goodbye to him.

  “See you in a few days, Brother-in-war,” Bridget said, hugging him. “And good luck.”

  Then he tightly embraced Leera, whispering, “I’m so proud of you, my love.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “Thank you,” and he kissed her cheek. “Love you and good luck.”

  “None of that,” she said, and kissed his lips instead. “Love you too, and good luck to you too.”

  Augum stepped away to stand beside Myrymydion. For a moment he watched his friends teleport from pedestal to pedestal, stopping frequently to catch their breath or wipe their bloody noses or grip their heads, for they had already been pushing their boundaries, working those arcane muscles. Only Leera remained to smile at him one more time before she took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at the most distant floating purple watermelon before summoning her watery shortsword and once more snapping off the Spectral Teleport incantation. A moment later the watermelon exploded and she reappeared at a distant pedestal. After pumping her fist in victory, she turned back one more time, blew him a kiss, and waved goodbye.

  Augum waved back, made a show of catching her kiss, and prepared to teleport back to Absalon with Myrymydion, for the distance was apparently far too great for him to try it on his own.

  * * *

  “Ah, but when the order stands proud once more, you, Dragoon Stone, shall be its commander,” Dragoon Myrymydion said in reply to another of Augum’s questions. “Thou shall be the final arbiter on all decisions. The responsibilities will be great, as will the isolation—prepare thyself thou must.” He leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk before him. “Deduce I, based upon what thou hast said, that thou must master the skill of delegation. Look you to chapter twenty-nine of the codex.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “The book can only show thee the door, Dragoon Stone, but thou must be the one to walk through it.”

  “I will be sure to read it and practice it, sir, before officially reestablishing the order.”

  The pair sat in the library in the same quadrant that housed all the available literature on Endraga Ra and Arcaners. Not far away sat the Canterrans, overseen by Tyranecron, all of whom occasionally shot Augum loathsome looks that he ignored.

  Augum had already spent seven hours poring over all his notes and research materials, as well as others Myrymydion had scavenged for him. Away from prying eyes, he had even summoned his vault and spent an hour going over a few key documents contained within that Myrymydion had instructed him to find. And as always, his cube floated alongside him. Occasionally he would set it to a different difficulty level depending on circumstance.

  “What about rewards, sir? I mean, for meritorious conduct.” Augum thought of Jengo and how much he deserved official praise.

  “So too do those answers lie within the pages of the codex. As commander of the order, thou shall have the sacred ability to bestow such awards upon thy charges. A great honor and privilege it will be, for ceremonies and traditions are involved that thy brethren shall draw great pleasure from.”

  Augum smiled. Everybody loved a good party.

  “Thou shall be the youngest to ever command the order, Dragoon Stone.”

  “I look forward to the challenge, sir.” He didn’t mention how much it terrified him too.

  “Heed but one sacred warning.” Dragoon Myrymydion clasped his hands before him as he stared Augum dead in the eyes. “Corruption within the order came when Arcaners knowingly did wrong, aware that a pilgrimage would absolve them.”

  Augum swallowed. “I … I will keep that in mind, sir.”

  “Good.” Myrymydion looked to the Canterrans. “Thy main enemy shall be the corrupt among Sithesian nobility. A thankless battle it will be, one waged throughout the eons, one requiring allies.”

  “I saw that there is a whole chapter on diplomacy,” Augum noted, “which I’ll be sure to read as well.” He intended to read the codex cover to cover in due time, even though it would probably take him years. “But, uh, how will the dragon situation factor in, sir? Assuming we’re successful, that is.”

  “That, unfortunately, is for thee to navigate. But prepared thou will have to be, for much attention it will draw, some most unwelcome. You will have to fortify yourselves—all of you—for should your quest succeed in felling the Canterran empire, you will become legends among legends. And as ordinary and frail as you shall feel, nothing will ever be the same, for you will be—” He leaned back in his chair. “—venerated as gods.”

  Augum swallowed. Being famous was one thing but held up as gods quite another altogether.

  Nonetheless, he was beginning to form grand plans on what to do beyond the coming war. In that way, he dared to hope for a future not only as the head of the order, but as a responsible castellan for his castle, managing Arinthia alongside friends … and alongside Leera. And now that he could teleport, he also wanted to travel, see Sithesia with his own eyes. Maybe take a sabbatical from the academy before returning to complete his studies. Perhaps even travel with his friends. What fun it would be to see Sithesia together!

  “Shut your gob, Baker, we are sick and tired of your sniveling,” Pigface snapped to sixteen-year-old Edwin from the row beyond Augum and Myrymydion. Augum had noticed that the other Canterrans regularly picked on Edwin, perhaps because he was the youngest and meekest of the lot.

  Pigface caught Augum staring. “What you gawkin’ at, heathen? Lookin’ forward to skewering you and bringing you before my dragon. And don’t think no pilgrimage is going to make you right with the gods.”

  At the last part, Gavinius flashed Pigface a hard look that he did not notice.

  Conscious of Myrymydion studying his response, Augum nonetheless felt his fists ball. He couldn’t abide watching anyone get bullied as it brought back horrible memories. But he recalled his studies in Military Strategy and could almost see The Grizzly ask in his gruff voice, “Will a response be advantageous to your position, Stone?”

  In this case, Augum couldn’t find one that would be and so he returned to his studies. But he did wonder if he could somehow help the young man in a meaningful way as his pilgrimage—and conscience—demanded. He also wondered if the Canterrans were trying to spoil his pilgrimage.

  “See that, you all?” Pigface crooned to his colleagues. “He’s scared of us. Kid’s a right coward at heart. Just like that traitorous knob beside him.”

  Myrymydion continued watching him, but Augum had heard such petty insults many times before, and brushed them aside like dust on his desk. He opened the codex to the chapter on simuls. “Sir, I’d like to go over Arcaner traditions with you, if that is all right.”

  “That would be wise, Dragoon Stone. And then suggest I we study how to successfully complete the rest of thy pilgrimage.”

  Under the Stars

  The next morning Augum awoke to the sound of a gentle rapping on his door. Without a word, he got up and double-tapped on the door in response, and heard boots walk away. It was Myrymydion informing him that it was time to start his pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Ancients, where he would ask his ancestors’ forgiveness. The trek there and back would take all day and he was not to be seen or heard by anyone, nor allowed to eat or drink anything. He had already prepared by eating and drinking his fill the night before, though it had only resulted in him getting up twice to visit the privy.

  Augum dressed in his undergarments and then his amber academy robe. He took nothing with him but the training cube, preset to the weight of a fat book, and Leera’s portrait, for nowhere did it say they were not allowed. Then he left his room. On the way, he pressed a hand against Leera’s door, drawing strength knowing she was sleeping just on the other side. He had briefly snuck in last night so they could kiss and cuddle and wish each other good luck. She had been exhausted, for Mrs. Stone had substantially heightened the training difficulty. Augum only wished he could have been among them.

  Instead, he walked on in the pitc
h-darkness bare of foot. When he placed his hand on the outer doorknob, he became acutely conscious that all it would take for his pilgrimage to be ruined was to be glimpsed by the enemy. And so he turned the handle slowly—painfully slowly. When the door at last opened—mercifully without making a click—he slipped through the crack and took his time closing it. Under cover of pitch-darkness, he felt his way around the building. Then, using its wall, he orientated himself in the correct direction and began padding along the cold stone floor, taking care to make no sound. Luckily, Myrymydion had given him a map of Absalon so that he could be absolutely sure of his direction at all times, a map he had studied the previous night.

  He stopped after only twenty feet, hearing breathing. It was quiet but rushed, meaning someone was excited. And he could only hear it because of the vast and total silence of the place.

  I can hear you, Gavinius. But you will not spoil this effort.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he continued padding along the stone floor. Only when he reached the distant stone walls of the cavern did he dimly light his palm and bury it within the cuff of his sleeve.

  He climbed a long set of steps that led to the top of the small mountain. There he stepped outside and discovered that sunrise was moments away. He stood in silence, a cold wind whipping through his hair and ruffling his robe, and appreciated the vast field of stars above. He wondered how far from home he truly was. He wondered if in that moment Krakatos the Ancient hopped from star to star as he and his friends had hopped from column to column. The thought was utterly absurd. What even was a star? Mythology had a slew of answers, but all anyone knew was that they emitted light. A few apparently moved too, and they were called wanderers. Some arcaneologists theorized wanderers were Unnameables watching over everyone. Others that they were powerful warlocks teleporting between distant lands. But it was all conjecture.

  The sun at last blistered over the horizon, illuminating the mountaintop. The wind died almost immediately. He turned in place to witness the light kiss hazy distant peaks. Then he began the descent to the desert floor, for he was not allowed to teleport. He would follow the stars as Myrymydion had trained him.