Honor's Price

by Sever Bronny

  Augum stared at the blue flames. They blurred and fogged with white mist as a form took shape. A single figure strode forth from the smoke of the 16th degree Memorial Ceremony spell.

  “Eric,” Augum whispered, taken aback, for he didn’t think himself ready to see him within the sacred flames. But the memorial fires showed what one required, not what one necessarily desired. And whether the apparitions were real or a figment of the observer’s imagination was a subject of fierce debate amongst arcaneologists.

  Eric, tall with chiseled features and wearing his amber academy robe, stopped a distance away. His light gray eyes were moist, his face long and tired. His neck was red where the rope had ended his life.

  “I’m so sorry, Eric,” Augum mumbled. “I shouldn’t have pushed for the encounter. Look what happened. Everyone around me dies, Eric. Just like in the war. I’m scared it’ll happen to the others too. I’m scared I’m pushing my luck, that I’m being reckless. That I’ll let them down like I let you down.”

  Eric slowly shook his head … and smiled. He raised a hand, palm open, and nodded once. Augum got the strong impression Eric was all right with what had happened, perhaps had even wanted it to happen that way. Somehow, Augum knew that Eric knew the part he had had to play … and he had accepted it. It gladdened his heart.

  Eric then brought his hands together and raised them before him, intimating the gesture of Good luck to you. Augum raised a hand and gave a single wave. “Goodbye, Eric, and thank you for everything you have done for us. I won’t forget you. We won’t forget you. And maybe one day waywards will walk this kingdom free from persecution …”

  Eric smiled. As he began walking backward and his form became part of the white smoke, his smile faded.

  More forms took shape—a whole village of people. No, it was more than the population of Sparrow’s Perch. It was everyone his former father had murdered.

  The first few rows were all people Augum recognized. But other faces of all skin tones and backgrounds, ones he did not know, also appeared. There were children and old people and young adults and middle-aged men and women. And there were so many that they surrounded Augum as they appeared, maintaining their distance in a wide circle. Augum saw the enormity of his former father’s crime. Lividius had slaughtered thousands in his quest for immortality. Thousands. Augum fell to his knees, unable to comprehend it. Unable to come to terms with it.

  No, he had to. He had to come to terms with it. He had to accept it.

  He got up, forcing himself to concentrate, to stare into the lost faces. Then he readied himself and spoke the words he had memorized while pivoting in place.

  “Hereth doth I be, I be, I be. Knowest I the vast horizon of history. Behold, I see, I see, I see. Yonder moment shall we stall, for this moment I do call, upon the me, the me, the me, of past and past and past. Sayeth true what had I said, and taketh back it whole instead. I come heart heavy to repent, to redraw the line I so lament.”

  The faces in the crowd raised their chins. The first portion of the ceremony was complete. Now came the actual lament. Augum continued to turn in place as he addressed the crowd with an open heart, unscripted.

  “I renounced my father on the drawbridge to the Black Castle because I wanted to distance myself from his crimes. I distanced myself from him, yet I embraced the rest of my lineage. I speak of my castle and its eighteen-hundred-year history, the history of my ancestors. If I am to accept that castle and its history, I must accept it all, including the parts I don’t like.” Augum glanced down at the misty snow, realizing something more. “I suppose the same can be said for this kingdom. The Canterrans have invaded it to avenge past wrongs. I wonder if we as a kingdom have acknowledged those wrongs. I wonder what the history books do not say. And I wonder how we can face that.” He looked back up. “I come before you to accept that my father murdered you all. That my lineage is stained, and I accept that wholeness as part of who I am, part of what I must face. My friends and I vanquished the man responsible for your deaths, but that will not erase the man’s actions, for you remain deceased. Your future children will never be born. Your future joys and sorrows will never be realized. And … and there are thousands of you.” He couldn’t stop his lower lip from trembling. Mothers and fathers and sons and daughters, their lives snuffed out to feed nothing more than ambition and callousness and greed, cheap motivations in comparison to the greatness of what was lost.

  “I come before you to accept the part of my lineage I wanted to distance myself from. I come to you, in the old way, accepting that my former father is truly my father, and forever will be. I come to you as someone who has taken lives. I come to you as someone who now accepts he is the son of a tyrant.”

  And now, for the final truth. And this was where he could lose them. “I wish to build an army. To beat back the invaders. But a shadow is rising. I can feel it. The others don’t, but I do. Whatever project the Canterrans are working on, it will wreak havoc. I sense ambition in the heart of their throne, and I fear it. I want to face it. I have trained for it. Telekinesis. Arcane Army Combat. Military Strategy. Endless training. Training to command.” His voice fell to a whisper as he said, “And I’m locked in war, fearing recklessness,” before he strengthened it once more. “But I cannot do it without your help. Help me accept my past, so I can win a future for this kingdom. This woeful, beaten, dark kingdom barely believes in me anymore. Barely believes in my craft. Allow me to make amends for my father’s crimes by saving this kingdom from itself, and from an enemy I am slowly beginning to comprehend.”

  He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but it was the truth, and it came from the heart.

  The throng parted and a thin man strode forth. He wore simple clothes, stood Augum’s height and had the same sharply arched brows and chestnut hair, though the hair was longer and graying. His eyes were vacant and his cheeks sallow and there was a sunken, deathly look to him, though not as severe as Augum remembered it. The man seemed ordinary, not like the vicious tyrant known as the Lord of the Legion.

  “Father,” Augum mouthed, unable to say the word aloud. But was he his father once more, or a murderous stranger he had never gotten to know other than through his crimes?

  The man glanced from face to face in the crowd with serene understanding. Those he locked gazes with gathered behind him, until it appeared as if he were standing before an army, as he had in his heyday, albeit an army of simple, unarmed people. For a brief moment, the space around him warped like an orb, an echo of the power he had once wielded.

  Augum looked on with a heavy heart. Each face represented what could never be again … life, joy, sorrow, experience. The first cry of a babe, the final sigh of an elder, and everything in between. None of it would pass, for his father had murdered them all.

  When Lividius Stone, once known as the Lord of the Legion, finished acknowledging his victims, he stepped to stand beside Augum. Together they looked out into that crowd, side by side, before the man stepped behind Augum. Then, in a final gesture, he settled graveyard-cold hands onto Augum’s shoulders. That cold seeped into Augum’s bones, and he saw every face simultaneously flash before his mind, making him gasp.

  And in that moment, Augum knew Lividius Stone was once more and forever his father.

  Day Three

  “ ‘The traitorous imposter Eric Southguard has been replaced by the king’s former niece, who has been anointed his daughter—and thus princess—in the old way,’ ” Leera quietly read from that morning’s copy of the Blackhaven Herald. She, Augum and their friends waited in line in the nippy courtyard of the academy to pay their daily crown due. Jengo reported that Bridget had made a full recovery and would join them shortly. He also mentioned she hadn’t drawn any suspicion, all thanks to Arcanist Ordrid’s efforts. Meanwhile Caireen, Isaac and Laudine reported they had yet to find any relevant historical discrepancies to hint at what the Canterrans were digging up. And Augum relayed the news they now had a preliminary plan on how to acquir
e the Dreadnought armor, something that simultaneously elated and frightened them.

  “ ‘The council voted unanimously to approve of the move,’ ” Leera read on. “ ‘The filthy wayward was hung from the gates for all to see, sending the message that even a royal is not beyond the sword of justice. Law and order and common decency won a decisive victory.’ ”

  Those first learning of Eric’s death hung their heads.

  Leera continued. “ ‘As to the dangerous witch institution known as the Academy of Arcane Arts, it has been decided that students must now attend all their classes, with no leniency given for truancy. Further, they are not to leave school grounds until after the worship ceremony.’ ”

  “They want to keep a closer watch on us,” Laudine said.

  “And make it more difficult to earn crowns,” Jengo added, “thus making it easier to snatch us up one by one when we fail to make the daily due.”

  “ ‘In further news, registration of all foreigners in the kingdom is progressing at a satisfactory pace. The king wants to remind those who haven’t registered that they will be detained if they do not register by end of day.’ Yadda, yadda, yadda.” Leera skimmed a portion before continuing. “ ‘And speaking of foreign devils, the Kingdom of Sierra has gifted Canterra a generous portion of their northern land holdings as reparations for past wrongs. King Samuel Sepherin is said to be most pleased, and is looking to other kingdoms to make similar gestures of good will. “A new dawn is upon us,” King Samuel is quoted as saying. “The Canterran people shall right the wrongs of the past. We require room to breathe. I trust my sons and daughters to fulfill the destiny of The Path. I look to Abrandia and Nodia to send messages of good faith.” ’ ”

  Leera stopped reading. “He’s annexing the other kingdoms as well. Is that the right word? Annexing?”

  Laudine, Haylee, Isaac, Caireen and Jengo nodded somberly.

  “No word on their secret project,” Leera added. “Which isn’t a surprise. Luckily, it’s mostly been bloodless. At least, that we know of. It’s not like the heralds will write anything that puts Canterra in a negative light.”

  “I smell a Sithesian war on the horizon,” Isaac said, sticking close to Caireen. “Abrandians are a tough, feisty people who won’t put up with any nonsense. Same with the Nodians. And if they keep pushing the Sierrans, they’ll go to war too.”

  Caireen nodded along. “And Tiberra’s like Solia—too weak from the Legion’s invasions to do much.”

  “Well, Jez definitely thinks war’s coming,” Haylee said bitterly. There were dark rings under her eyes and her hair was disheveled. “Made us train past midnight. You believe that? Instead of planning for my womanhood ceremony, we trained. And today is my birthday! I turned sixteen today, and haven’t had a proper moment to appreciate it.”

  “You know what Bridget would say to that,” Augum said. He and Leera, long used to late training sessions with Jez and previously with the legendary Mrs. Stone, had felt at home training late, motivated by Eric’s death and the bold plan to snatch the Dreadnought armor from under the Canterrans’ noses.

  “I know, I know, training’s more important than a womanhood ceremony. But it’s my sweet sixteen! I only get one in my life. Tell me you’ve got something special planned.”

  Leera scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up. Can’t you see we’ve been invaded?” As Haylee’s face fell, Leera threw a secret wink to Laudine and Caireen, who nodded appreciatively. Augum had witnessed the girls do something similar before Leera’s womanhood ceremony. The sisterhood had conspired to pull the wool over Leera’s eyes and surprised her with a tremendous party and legendary initiation that involved a ceremonial test of character, a test of arcane strength, and a test of knowledge, the latter of which Leera failed spectacularly, confusing chronocasting with simulcasting, a mistake even a 1st degree would have been castigated for. But as was tradition, she was given a pass, which she sheepishly accepted. They also had her sing a song the other students had once used against her upon first entering the academy, a song she swore if anyone reminded her of in any way ever again they would wake up tarred and feathered, because it apparently still gave her nightmares. And finally, she was made to spill the beans on what exactly she found attractive about Augum, as well as admit they had not slept together and were thus virgins still, which made them want to drown themselves from embarrassment. And then there were the usual festivities and games and feasting. Augum wondered what the women had planned for tonight, or if they’d even get that far. Every hour of freedom was an hour won. In the war, they’d had to snatch whatever joys they could from the jaws of hopelessness. Now, despite the facade of normalcy the Canterrans put up, he felt as if the walls were steadily closing in, and anything could happen at any moment.

  Leera smacked his arm. “What are you grinning about, mister?”

  “Just, uh, recalling your—”

  “Don’t even think about bringing that up.”

  “But it was hilarious—”

  “Do you want to wake up tarred and feathered?”

  “I was just—”

  She jammed a hand against his mouth. “Nuh-uh, hush now.”

  The others tried to keep their faces straight.

  “Speaking of which, any word on that, ahem, scroll?” Isaac asked.

  Augum, Leera’s hand still over his mouth, could only nod.

  “It was a success?” Isaac pressed.

  Augum grabbed Leera’s hand and playfully twisted it behind her, giving her a squeeze around the midriff with his other arm.

  “Hey, we’re not wrestling right now, this is serious business!” she protested, squirming in his grip. “If we were underwater, you’d be so dead,” she added, alluding to her underwater prowess.

  “Save it for the bedroom, you two,” Caireen said with an eye roll, making Augum and Leera let go, faces crimson.

  Haylee smirked. “They haven’t gotten that far, remember?”

  Their friends snorted into their hands and Augum and Leera stirred uncomfortably.

  “Hey, Lee,” Isaac whispered, “which is it again, simulcasting or chronocasting? I forget.”

  As the others snickered, Leera elbowed Augum in the ribs, hissing, “See what you’ve done?”

  “Sorry,” Augum muttered, abruptly aware of how inappropriate it was to muck about the morning after Eric’s execution. Their comfort with death and tragedy was eclipsing tact, and it was shameful. Although in his friends’ defense, they never liked Eric, nor had they gotten to know him like the trio had.

  “You bet the scroll was a success, Isaac,” Haylee said, straightening her shoulders back. “All thanks to my careful instructions, of course.”

  “Let’s remember to keep our voices down,” Isaac whispered. “No telling who’s listening in. And you all checked your satchels, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Augum said. Ever since Katrina had pulled that tracking stunt on them the other day, the trio habitually checked all their and their friends’ satchels and robes—illegally, since they weren’t supposed to know the Reveal spell.

  “Let’s hit up Olaf’s house after classes and test the suit,” Isaac whispered. “Then we can party at Haylee’s womanhood thingy. Just be careful today. It’s only a matter of time until they discover the missing peons.”

  “If they haven’t already,” Jengo muttered, eyes flitting to the Canterrans. But the overseers looked as bored as ever.

  Leera crumpled up the Blackhaven Herald and readied to toss it into the air. “Laud, you mind?”

  “Mindeth I not,” Laudine sang.

  Leera tossed the crumpled parchment and Laudine flicked her wrist. “Fiero.” A tiny fireball slapped into the parchment ball, igniting it.

  “Love those little extension spells,” Leera said as the parchment hissed in the snow, extinguishing in a charred husk.

  “Hey!” a voice called from behind them. “No unauthorized arcanery outside of class! Who done that?”

  “Shoot, that was stupid,” L
eera muttered.

  They glanced back to see who it was.

  “Ugh, it’s that stinking fish-fiend,” Laudine whispered. “Eyes down.”

  Carp was tromping over. Beyond him, waiting patiently in line and mobbed by admirers of her new title of princess, was a preening Katrina, a glittering diamond tiara perched on her head. Elizabeth was beside her, loudly gushing about how amazing Katrina was. It seemed she had taken Brandon’s place as the next best conspirator. As for Brandon, he was nowhere in sight. But someone else loomed near Katrina, watching the crowd with suspicion.

  “Don’t look now, but that notorious Black Eagle is Katrina’s bodyguard,” Augum whispered.

  Isaac glanced back anyway. “Is that … Ethios Kamagant? Gods help us, I think it is.”

  Caireen’s face darkened as if she were seeing war memories. “The Butcher. That man deserves a painful death for murdering my people.”

  “Here comes Carp,” Jengo whispered. “For the love of the Unnameables, don’t do anything stupid.”

  The girls and boys kept their heads low as the line fell silent. No one wanted to provoke the enemy, even if it was a trumped-up Carp angling to feel important for the first time in his life.

  Carp The Path Disciple stood in his white robe, its hem already soiled, a splotch of dried jam on his chest. He glared at everyone in line. Behind him milled about a group of overseers who elbowed each other as if sharing an inside jest. Augum realized they found it hilarious to watch the enemy turn on itself, especially when that enemy believed in a false cult whose sole purpose was to garner more slaves for their project.

  “Huh? Who did that?” Carp yelled, puffing out his chest. “Fess up, or everyone in this part of the line will be put on work detail!” The other students, most of whom were sorely sleep deprived, anxiously stirred at the threat.

  The bald Path Disciples at the head of the line looked up from their parchments to stare. The one Augum had already named Pointy Chin began walking over.