by Sever Bronny
“No wonder it takes twenty hours to learn. And Fates help me, so there are more powerful simuls available at higher degrees, Dragoon Pelagia?”
“Yes, Squire Jones.”
Leera turned to Augum and Bridget. “And we already know the Reflect spell from the war. Still, Reflection can’t be too different. I mean, yeah, we’ll be rusty, but we should be able to get proficient.”
Augum recalled using that fantastic off-the-books spell in the war. Unfortunately it required a rare crystal to use and was sun-tuned, meaning it could only be cast once a day—not to mention the crystals had been destroyed. But how did this Reflection spell work?
“Dragoon Pelagia, what is the Reflection spell?”
“The Reflection spell is an Arcaner-specific spell, Squire Stone. Its only use is to marry with the Shield spell to become Mirror of the Dragon.”
“Almost sounds like it’s off-the-books,” Leera said.
But Augum was curious about another thing. “Dragoon Pelagia, how many times a day can Mirror of the Dragon be cast?”
“As many times as one’s stamina allows, Squire Stone.”
The trio giddily glanced at each other. Being able to throw a spell back at the caster more than once—and without needing a crystal—was a thrilling prospect. In fact, it was downright revolutionary. As far as Augum knew, no warlock alive could perform such an action, which could almost be considered a feat of legend.
The trio asked for and received explanations for the other simuls. Breath of the Dragon allowed the caster a triple simulcast that simultaneously shoved an opponent, disarmed them and created a monstrous noise. That triple simulcast was the reason why it took so many hours to learn. Birth of the Dragon allowed them to transform their 4th degree Summon Minor Elemental spell into a small flying dragon. Roar of the Dragon resulted in the Arcaner casting their weapon, but then each subsequent strike triggered the Slam spell, up to seven times in a row without having to cast it again. So if Augum summoned his lightning longsword, each of his next seven strikes would deliver a deafening and awe-inspiring roar of thunder. Awe of the Dragon and Bluster of the Dragon worked on the same principle, except each hit delivered a Fear or Confusion casting, respectively.
Leera raised a sharp brow at Augum. “Birth of the Dragon … do you think it’s possible you’ve confused the ability to summon real dragons with a small imitation?”
It was as if she had gut-punched him.
“I’m sorry, that was an awful thing to ask.”
“No, no it wasn’t. It’s a fair question, all things considered.” He swallowed as he picked up the broken pieces of his belief. “To answer your question, yes, I suppose it is possible. But I do not believe that a variation on the Summon Minor Elemental spell is the summoned dragons I’ve read about in history books, seen embroidered into tapestries or depicted in paintings or carved into the columns and the ceiling at the Arcaner Hall in the Black Castle.”
“But the 19th degree has a Summon Champion Elemental spell.”
“I know, but I firmly do not believe summoned dragons were nothing more than variations on summoned elementals. The scale of all of those pictorials shows gigantic, real beasts.”
The girls stared at him.
“All right, yes, they could have been exaggerated historically like they are in children’s tales, but I do not believe that is the case. When you put it all together, the scorch marks, the countless tales, the carvings and pictorials, the old tongue references in the library tomes … I could go on.” He sighed. “I suppose it’s almost a matter of faith. And I have faith.”
The girls exchanged a look but mercifully did not continue the skeptical questioning and instead smiled supportively, alleviating Augum’s inner turmoil on the subject and keeping the icy thoughts that he could be catastrophically wrong at bay.
Bridget pulled on an imaginary bowstring. “Imagine me being able to strike seven enemies in a row and seeing all of them struck by Confusion or having them hear a massive roar of splintering wood.”
“That would be incredible,” Augum whispered, imagination ablaze, shoving the doubt from his mind.
“Or see them panic with horror,” Leera said. “At your draw speed, you’d have a whole squad pissing themselves in no time.”
“I feel like I’d choose Confusion,” Bridget said, nodding to herself.
Leera extended a hand and swept it across the horizon, chortling. “I’ll choose Fear and watch my enemies scream in terror.”
“And I love the idea of thunder going off with every landed sword blow,” Augum said.
Then the trio calculated the hours on all the simuls, and chose two additional simuls each, settling on the same two: Birth of the Dragon and, no surprise, Mirror of the Dragon.
“That makes eighty hours total,” Bridget said. “Which includes classes and simuls. Beats one hundred and four, but still won’t be easy.” She looked at the attendant. “We have made our choices, Dragoon Pelagia. Now how do we begin?”
Arcaner Class
“And that, young Squires, is why service in the benefit of the kingdom brings lasting peace, strength and prosperity,” Trintus Bladeofbright said in his flame-gurgling voice, brows, beard and hair burning in rhythm with his Frock of Perpetual Fire. With his final lecture statement complete, the most famous Arcaner of all brought his ebony hands together and said, “Semperis vorto honos,” then disappeared without a sound, leaving the trio alone in the vast dungeon-like room, hurrying to scribble their final set of notes.
They had decided their first day should be a sampling of the first hour of each class, which would equal ten hours in addition to their seven hours spent at the academy, an ambitious endeavor. Each class was in a different alcove up the great tower, with portals connecting them to the arena floor. To get up there, they had to ask Dragoon Pelagia to summon a portal for the specific class and the exact hour of said class. Upon concluding that hour, they’d return to the arena floor and ask Dragoon Pelagia to summon a portal for the next class. They would have to do this for each hour of each class.
They had completed an hour each in five of the six virtues classes, a nice change of pace from the grueling two-hour-long classes of the academy—though Dragoon Pelagia hinted some classes would be longer than others, especially as the trio progressed. Trintus taught the first hour of every class, but Pelagia said other Arcaners were set to take his place for the subsequent Virtues classes, and they would be more demanding with each hour.
In Honor class, Trintus taught them that honor brought its own rewards. He taught them to be conscious of their own honor at all times, and to be cognizant that their actions reflected upon the order as a whole. But he also warned not to follow honor blindly, and that “given a choice of two, there are actually five options—the first, the second, both, neither, or a newly conceived option,” wisdom that made the trio nod in appreciation.
In Discipline class, the trio were lectured on the art of discipline and what it meant to have a disciplined heart, soul and mind. They were then bid to practice that art by following orders that steadily increased in difficulty, such as climbing a set of steps that went nowhere, then asked to step off those steps, only to fall onto a mat of feathers that had not been there a moment before. It was mostly about disciplining mind over body.
In Courage class, they were lectured on what it meant to have courage and why it mattered as an Arcaner, before enduring ever-difficult tests, all of which had something to do with facing one’s core fears.
In Kindness class, they were lectured on the importance of giving back, how charity was “the lubricant of goodness,” and how kindness was a daily practice, before being asked to demonstrate charity in illusory situations, such as helping a beggar stand, or carrying a child on behalf of a sick mother, or choosing which—if any—wounded soldier to help. As usual, each challenge was more difficult than the last.
In Service class, they were taught the fundamentals of institutional civics within the order. This class w
as the strangest of all, for with the order gone extinct, there was no hierarchy to salute to, no captains or commanders to obey, or even an Arcaner Hall in which to celebrate one’s achievements with fellow Arcaners. It was a poignant class of high ideals and ghostly echoes of a bygone era. Nonetheless, the trio took detailed notes, hoping that one day the hall of Arcaners would be full again, and they could toast their accomplishments with fellow dragoons.
After finishing their notes for Service class, they made their way down a confined ancient-stone hallway with an arched ceiling and unlit iron bracket torches, forcing them to light their palms. Bridget expelled a long breath as she curled strands of her long hair around each ear. “Five hours in. How are we feeling?”
“Like I want to bypass the portal and step off the ledge,” Leera muttered, taking a bite of an apple. They had been snacking throughout and taking short breaks and even a nap in between each class, but there was only so much one could do.
Augum rubbed his tired eyes, wishing he could rub his tired brain too. Including regular classes, lunch, five Arcaner Virtues classes and various short breaks, they had spent over thirteen hours in the academy. It was definitely taking its toll. He could use another nap, but he needed to eat first. As the girls disappeared into the pitch-black portal at the end of the cramped hall with a soft whoosh, Augum reached into his satchel and withdrew a chunk of bread. He took his first bite on the other side, where he joined the girls on the sandy floor of the arena. Dragoon Pelagia sat behind the dragon desk, the same serene expression on her face.
“Think she thinks of anything, or does she just … sit there?” Leera asked.
“Of course not,” Bridget said. “She’s here to serve in spirit only.” She dumped her satchel and reclined on a ring of bleachers.
“Too bad. Was hoping we could be made immortal that way.”
“It’s ancient arcanery. The knowledge was lost a long time ago. Besides, it wouldn’t be you. It’d be a copy, a ghost, that had been arcanely infused with your personality and powers. It’s remarkably complex arcanery if you think about it, a true 20th degree master level spell.” Bridget rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Ugh, I’m exhausted.”
Leera prodded Bridget with her foot. “You haven’t napped. Take a nap.”
“A nap sounds lovely.” With her eyes still closed, she fumbled inside her satchel and withdrew a small brass hourglass. She opened a bleary eye to check she was flipping it on the correct end, and levitated it to a nearby bleacher. “Quarter of an hour, no more. You two mind?”
“Not at all,” Augum said, dumping his satchel into the sand and dropping like a sack of potatoes, utterly exhausted. But it wasn’t his body so much as his brain that was tired. It had been a long, long day, and they still had six hours to go. Gods help them, this was crazy. But they had to set the pace for the tenday, and challenging themselves was something they had learned to do in the war. He finished eating the bread and washed it down with water, trying not to think lest it use up precious energy.
In no time at all, Bridget was snoozing peacefully. A shadow then fell over Augum, who lay on the sand. Leera let her satchel fall from her shoulder, stepped over him, and sat down on his legs, before gently lying on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her and took a deep, contented breath. For a time, they just lay there, resting, enjoying each other’s embrace.
“I’m trying not to think of what’s on the other end of this course,” she whispered.
“Same here.”
“And I’m not just talking about the dragoon trial.”
“I know.”
She raised her head and hovered over his face, her raven hair forming a protective curtain around their faces. She smiled, and he smiled back. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. They soon forgot about Bridget’s hourglass. They forgot about the lessons. They forgot everything but each other. It was only when Bridget fell off the bleacher and slapped into the sand face-first did they unpeel themselves from each other.
“Seriously, you two?” Bridget croaked, face caked with sand. “You were making out the whole time?”
“What are you talking about?” Leera replied. “We shouted at you but you refused to wake up, so we sat here, waiting in perfect propriety.”
“Oh, please.” Bridget brushed the sand off her face. “You know what? I don’t blame you, for once. Maybe you need to make out now and then to rejuvenate. I’ll try not to be such a prude.”
Leera tapped Augum’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “By golly, good sir, did thou hearest that?” she asked in a stage accent reminiscent of Laudine’s. “We have free rein to plunder!” She jumped on top of Augum and the two of them playfully wrestled.
“Hey, let’s not go too far now,” Bridget said. Then she spotted the hourglass. “What the—hey!” She snapped her fingers at them. “Get off him,” and held out the empty hourglass. “How long? Hmm? How long?”
Augum sheepishly held Leera’s hands behind her back as she playfully snapped her teeth at his face. “Just over half an hour … I think? I’m really sorry, Bridge, but you’re right, we badly needed that.” Leera flung her head back and forth and whipped his face with her hair. “Badly,” he added, wincing from the hair whips.
“You two are incorrigible, absolutely incorrigible,” Bridget muttered, throwing the hourglass into her satchel. But then she heaved a giant sigh.
Leera finally jumped off Augum, kicked sand at his feet, and wandered over to Bridget while vainly trying to fix her thoroughly disheveled hair. She plopped down across from her. “Hey, maybe we should drag Olaf in here to do this with us. Then you two can make out all you want. What? Don’t look at me like that. You need a good, thorough make-out session. Whoa, you roll those eyes back any farther and you’ll see your own brain. Seriously, why don’t we invite our friends to try and become Arcaners with us, starting tomorrow?”
“Because the assassins would target them,” Augum mumbled, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head on top.
“So what? A dozen assassins have already attacked us as a group. Then there’s the Canterrans and The Path. You heard that lunatic. A quarter of a million lives. That’s half the kingdom. Half.”
Augum grunted in acknowledgment of the point, too tired to utter a cognizant reply or think too deeply on the matter.
Leera ran her hands through her hair. “Why are we being so stingy, so conservative, so … so prudish? We only get to live once, and so do our friends. You heard Trintus go on about how we will have so much to learn from our older and wiser Arcaner comrades in the Great Arcaner Hall, how we’ll hear all those tales of battle and raise our cups to our accomplishments.” She glanced between them. “Well I have news for you two—there ain’t going to be anyone in there with us if we don’t let anyone in.”
Augum and Bridget silently processed what she said.
“Things have changed,” Leera went on. “We’ll need help. And heck, why aren’t we inviting more powerful warlocks to take the course with us, now that we’ve proven it exists? The Grizzly, the other arcanists—Jez, even! Wait, no, not Jez, she said she’d hate it. Yeah, she’d definitely hate it. But The Grizzly! Imagine how—” She balled her hands into fists and brought them to her chest. “—how awesome a force he’d be! I mean, granted, I hate his guts half the time because he’s sterner than a governess, and I’ll puke if I see him and Jez in the same room again, but still. Wait, maybe we should ask other powerful warlocks instead. Who else do we know? No one? Whew, look at me rant.” She fell back onto the bleacher, arms flopping beside her. “Sorry, that just came to me and I needed to get it off my chest because I needed to rant about something because I’m exhausted and I thought it might as well be something useful.”
Augum sat running a hand through the sand and enjoying the feeling of it trickling through his fingers. Unnameables, things had changed. Why not invite their friends to join them?
“You’re right,” Bridget said, forearm resting over her forehead and a hand playing wit
h the sand in the same way as Augum’s—all while still lying on the bleacher.
Leera raised a finger to the infinite sky. “Let it be noted in the record that Bridget Abigail Burns has officially agreed that I am absolutely brilliant … and right.”
Bridget, without getting up, threw a handful of sand at Leera. Then she turned her head to Augum with a questioning look.
“Would they have to declare first?” Augum asked, reading her eyes, only to answer his own question. “Not in wartime. There’s loads of historical precedent, especially with Arcaners.” He had pieced that fragment together from the old library tomes.
“But they’d still have to pass the first quest, the first trial,” Bridget said. “And they’d only get one stab at it. And we’d need to warn our friends how dangerous that trial is.”
“Agreed. They’d have to do it of their own volition, aware of the risks.” The corner of Augum’s mouth rose in a roguish smile at Bridget. “Olaf did attain his 5th degree, which means he’s qualified.”
Bridget’s cheeks flushed.
Augum sat a little straighter. “And if they all studied the material, they could learn enough about Arcaners to attempt it. Actually, they’ve already been studying about Arcaners, and they’ve heard more than enough from us rambling on about them.”
“And have repeatedly asked if they could try out,” Leera added. She frowned. “At least, most of them did. I think.”
Bridget returned to staring at the unfathomable ceiling, hand idly playing in the sand. “That’s not the real question. The real question is … will they want to? And if so, who?”
Augum thought about that. Who among their friends had declared? As far as he could recall, only Jengo, yet he had expressed an interest early on. But could healers even become Arcaners? And could people have multiple occupations?
The more thought he gave it, the more he realized many of their friends might be seriously interested. Jengo, Haylee, Olaf, Isaac, Caireen certainly, even Laudine, perhaps. Probably not Alyssa though, as the occupation might be too restrictive for her tastes.