by Sever Bronny
“I gathered. You know those supposedly secret academy trainers? Imagine putting them all in one room. That’s what you have here.”
“Wow.”
The man’s smile never wavered. “Three souls? Three will buy the day.”
“Three gold?” Augum asked.
The man chuckled. “Let’s go with three silver. It’s tradition—toll to pass.”
Bridget rooted around her pouch and handed over the coins.
“Looks like a fun job,” Augum said.
“Best in the world. Especially in these times.” The man nodded at the door. “I could be out there. Instead, sometimes, when the place is empty—like it will be soon when they all disappear to see the opening ceremonies—I go on and frolic amongst the obstacles. Still a kid inside.”
“Are you a warlock?”
“Hit the ceiling at the 7th.” He rubbed his bald head. “Started late, but proud of what I accomplished. What outfit are you three from?”
“Blackhaven,” Augum blurted a little too quickly. “Uh, what’s the neatest obstacle course here?”
The man gave them a quizzical look but nodded nonetheless. “Do you know your First Offensive?” The crow’s feet around his eyes crinkled.
Augum nodded.
“Then for pure fun, I’d do the waterslide. There’s a bunch of targets you’ll be shooting at that shoot back, so you’ll need to be good with your shield. You can also try the Mayhem course, which is basically just random spells thrown at you while you navigate holes that appear in the floor.” He chuckled. “But I don’t recommend that one until you see about six stripes on your arm. There’s all kinds of fun to be had here, depending on your skill level. However, if you want more of a classical training experience, try the obstacle field, just behind. It’s designed to test you on all of your spells, standard and elemental.”
“We’ll start with the obstacle field first, thank you,” Bridget said, giving Leera a staying look just as she was about to protest.
“And don’t be too ambitious. Some of those obstacles are old and can be downright dangerous, like the Memory Wiper, for example.”
“Right, thank you.”
“And feel free to borrow any of the equipment, it’s included in the fee.”
Augum glanced behind the man at the wide assortment of worn padding equipment. “Thank you, we should be fine.”
“Good luck!”
They strode off toward the obstacle field, Leera complaining how they never got to have any fun, and if there was one place where fun was to be had, it was here, and if only Bridget would lighten—
“We’re here to train, not play,” Bridget finally said to her as they arrived. A fit older woman in a black robe happened to finish with the course just then. She strode past, not even giving them a second look, forehead beaded with sweat. Augum noticed a Legion flaming sword crest on her chest and was glad she had not made eye contact.
“We’ll need to find disguises as soon as possible,” Bridget said, watching the back of her.
Leera pinched her raised hood. “What do you call these?”
“Inadequate. And you know what I mean.”
“Not really,” Leera muttered, but let it go.
The course was set amongst a wheat field, with braziers burning all around, giving the place a nighttime feel. All the objects were well worn and dirty. They started on the first one, which was a bunch of different-shaped objects that had to be telekinetically moved through matching holes. The objects teleported back to their starting locations once they were successfully matched. Augum found it surprisingly fun but challenging. He could see how the obstacle taught precision though, and he wondered if they could build something like this back in Milham.
They spent a good deal of time training on it. Some of the objects had to be fitted so precisely, and so high off the ground, that it was obvious they were meant for higher degree warlocks. One of the hardest ones was threading a needle through a series of pinprick holes over fifty feet above ground.
The next obstacle was an array of broken objects they had to repair. Each object broke itself immediately after being repaired, a sign that the spell had been performed successfully. There was a satisfaction in hearing the bursting of a glass bottle, or the crack of a rock.
Leera pumped her fist after successfully repairing a delicate porcelain statue, only to see it shatter anew. “We need to get us some of these training toys back home.”
Augum placed his hands over the remains of a crystal globe. “Apreyo.” It reformed, then shattered. “Think we can purchase some of them in town?”
Leera scoffed. “Yeah, with what gold? And you know how expensive stuff like this is?”
Bridget finished repairing an iron gargoyle sculpture that then burst apart, nearly cutting her. “Maybe we can build our own obstacle course …”
“I doubt it’ll put itself back together like this,” Leera grumbled.
“That’s true, this could be ancient arcanery.”
“But if we save Nana—”
“Aug, she’s not going to have time to make us practice toys,” Bridget said, eyeing a necrophyte strolling by not too far away. “Besides, we have to get the you-know-what first.”
They continued on along the course. Some obstacles were quite physical, like the Shield one, which required them to run through a bunch of statues that attacked them with blunted weapons; or the Disarm one, which required them to disarm a series of animated wooden opponents with painted scowling faces. Others were trickier, like the Mind Armor obstacle. There were a series of statues with a button that, once pressed, released a mind attack on the subject, with each statue clearly marked as to what kind of spell it was going to attack with. There was even a switch to set it to a degree—up to 10th. Leera braved setting the Confusion attack dummy to the 7th degree, which she promptly failed. Luckily, she stumbled out of its defined space, marked by a square on the ground, which immediately nullified the effects of the spell.
The trio challenged themselves with Fear, Mute, Deafness, Blind, Sleep, and Paralyze, the latter few much more difficult to defend against since they had so little training against them (and none against Paralyze). They spent an hour on this obstacle alone, until all three had to sit down and rest from the arcane side effects.
“I can see how someone could get really good just by training here,” Augum said, massaging his temples.
Leera grunted in agreement. She sat with her head and arms on her knees, hood drawn.
Bridget kept a careful watch on who strolled by. “The course reminds me of the one at the Academy.” She gave a wistful sigh.
After resting, they resumed training, moving on to a series of dummies that they attacked with their own mind-offensive spells. Leera always got a kick out of seeing a Fear-stricken wooden dummy pretend to be scared by moaning with a hollow sound. Augum, meanwhile, kept cranking the degree of his dummy up until his spells failed. His attacks almost always failed against 6th degree dummies, though on particularly strong castings he managed to best a dummy set to a defensive 7th degree. He wondered how the dummies worked, and just what kind of arcanery was involved. There was so much of the arcane world he did not know or understand, so much to explore. If only this stupid war wasn’t going on, if only he was with Bridget and Leera at the Academy of Arcane Arts, quietly apprenticing under his great-grandmother, and attending these amazing tournaments every year …
After a grueling half day spent on the course, Leera plopped down on a battered stump. “Anyone else as exhausted and hungry as I am?”
Bridget dusted off her necrophyte robe before bending to rest her hands on her knees. “We should eat before attempting our 4th degree. Maybe we’ll hear word from—”
“—those fool stowaways?” Leera interjected. “They better succeed if they value their hides.”
Augum wiped the sweat from his brow, wincing at his headache. “Supper Hall for lunch?”
They nodded.
The Supper Hall
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“How much—?” Leera asked in scandalized tones, holding a tray at the concession stand.
“I said, five coppers,” replied a bored attendant with a sweaty face. A giant cauldron of water boiled behind him.
“Better be fit for a queen.” Leera took the five coins from Bridget and dumped them on the scuffed oaken counter. “We’ll be broke by day’s end at this rate,” she muttered to Augum, making sure no one else in the line of mostly necrophytes and gray-robed figures had overheard.
Ahead, a large woman with angular spectacles and a tight bun doled out slopping ladles of some kind of mush. Augum suspected she woke up with that frown. He tightened his hood, aware that there were way too many people in the noisy hall for his comfort, especially since most of them were necrophytes. Not that he was comfortable anywhere in public nowadays, even Milham.
They collected their food—mushroom soup, mashed potatoes, lanky green beans, and a shriveled side of pork that looked like it had been run over by an ox cart. There was a crude iron pump that they used to pour water into battered tin cups. Then they made their way to a trestle table with fitted benches and lit by hanging iron candelabras. The room looked much like a vast barn, the floors covered with hay.
“It’s like we’re livestock,” Leera muttered, taking a seat.
“Quaint and cozy,” Augum replied, taking a seat opposite alongside Bridget, then promptly diving into his food.
“Farm boys,” Leera mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No way, she can’t beat him!” a small necrophyte boy with a pimpled face and a squeaky voice finished saying to a necrophyte girl. The pair sat down at the same table as the trio, who stiffened and kept their faces averted.
Augum realized they stood out like beacon fires—in the whole place, they were the only necrophytes with their hoods drawn. He wearily watched the pair beside them out of the corner of his eye.
The boy plowed into his food. “That Nodian warlock, what’s his name—”
“Nix, or Nex, or something like that,” the girl replied, picking at her beans.
“Whatever, he knows his 4th but purposely didn’t take his test so he could compete in a lower degree. That’s why Temper’s going to lose.”
“Good, cause I hate her anyway. She’s a stupid oaf. And she doesn’t deserve Robin either.”
The boy groaned. “I’m so sick of hearing about him. Almost as famous as the fugitives.” He had a narrow nose, short black hair, and was about their age, or maybe a year younger.
The girl, who was as thin as parchment with long sienna hair, seemed to notice the trio because she stopped eating, throwing a questioning look at the boy.
“Hey,” said the boy, putting down his spoon. “Hey, you three—why the hoods? You part of some warlock bandit gang or something?”
The girl chuckled.
“Oh, uh, we’re just cold,” Augum replied, fully realizing that was about the stupidest reply he could come up with—it was furnace hot in there from all the braziers.
“Were you in the training room?” the girl asked. “Let me guess—the ice bath.”
Augum nodded without facing them. “Yep, that’s it exactly.”
“Hate that bath,” the boy muttered. “So are you all going to see the opening ceremony?”
Augum nodded again, overly conscious of every movement of his body. “Probably, yeah.”
“ ‘Probably’?”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Of course you are, why would you miss it?”
Augum could think of a few reasons.
“Do you have a favorite?” the boy pressed.
Augum couldn’t help but look up. “Favorite?”
The boy gave the girl an Is he slow or something? look. “Yeah, you know, a favorite in the tournament,” he said to Augum.
“Uh …” Oh no, he didn’t know anyone other than Temper and that murdering mule! “Robin Scarson,” he blurted, hating himself for saying it.
The boy gave him a revolted look.
“He’s a dream, isn’t he?” the girl said to Bridget and Leera.
“Oh, yeah,” Leera said in flat tones. “A dream come true.”
The boy leaned closer. “Anyone ever tell you that you three look like the three on the poster?”
Augum and Bridget froze.
Leera, on the other hand, waved idly. “Get it all the time.”
The boy gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I can see why.” He returned to his soup.
“Ooo, I’d love to see Augum Stone in the tournament!” the girl squealed.
Augum, who had finished breathing an immense sigh of relief, choked on a bean pod. “Excuse me,” he managed to say wheezily while Bridget slapped his back.
“He’s so handsome,” the girl said with a dreamy sigh, quickly catching herself. “In a criminal kind of way of course. Anyway, I know he’d win.”
“Not if he faced Robin,” the boy said. “No chance.” He counted on his fingers. “Kid knows more necromancy than any necrophyte I know, he’s been trained by the Lord of the Legion personally, and his crooked aunt’s a judge—the Unnameables themselves couldn’t win with her in that booth.”
The girl shrugged. “Guess so.”
“Besides, isn’t Augum, like, only 1st degree or something?”
How Augum wished he could prove the boy otherwise!
The boy lowered his voice. “Know who I have a huge crush on? Bridget Burns.”
It was Bridget’s turn to nearly choke.
The girl smirked at him. “Oh, are you a Bridget boy?”
“What do you mean?” the boy asked.
“Well, you’re either a fan of Bridget or Leera.”
“Hmm, they’re both super cute, but I’m definitely a fan of Bridget.”
Augum couldn’t resist glancing at Bridget. She was scarlet, and suddenly quite preoccupied with her mashed potatoes.
“Which one would you take to the Star Feast?” the boy asked Augum.
Augum had a very hard time concealing his smile. “Oh, uh, Leera.”
Leera had to pretend to wipe her mouth to prevent herself from bursting out in laughter.
The girl smacked the boy’s hand. “Think Bridget’s cuter than me?”
The boy sighed. He put down his spoon with a clatter and crossed his arms. “Think Augum or Robin is more handsome than I am?”
“Ugh.” The girl returned to eating, as did the boy.
“So what outfit are you from?” he asked the trio without looking up.
“Blackhaven,” Augum replied quickly.
The boy gave Augum a look. “Yeah, but which outfit?”
“Oh, uh …” They should have prepared better, asked Haylee more questions about this kind of stuff. He regretted not having her along. Instead, they got stuck with idiot stowaways.
The girl leveled her spoon at Augum. “Let me guess—Stone Quarter.”
“How did you know?” Augum lied.
The girl gave a lofty head wag. “Cut of your robes.”
Augum glanced around—all the necrophyte robes looked the same to him.
“All right, let’s go get a good seat.” The boy took the girl’s empty plate and bowl, as well as his own. “See you later.”
“Bye,” Augum replied.
Soon as they were out of earshot, the trio broke out snickering.
“Now that was an odd conversation,” Augum said, taking note how the girls sat a little straighter, cheeks rosy.
They quietly bantered a little more before going to their room to check for a message from Malaika, but there was none. They washed up instead and made their way down to Examination Room A, where the trio paid the one hundred gold fee to Secretary Sanjipta, the scrawny gray-robed woman behind the desk. She accepted it without glancing up from her work.
“The rules are simple,” she began explaining in a memorized rapid-fire way. “No weapons, no food, no off-the-books spells, no necromancy or otherwise any spells outside of the
tested degree. No hints, winks or high jinks of any kind. No passing of notes. Any form of cheating will result in a lifetime ban and an automatic constabulary report. The applicants are not to place their hands on each other or the examiner without permission. The applicants are not to address the examiner without being spoken to first.”
She took a bored breath before charging on while shuffling parchment. “The applicants will not remove any property from within Examination Room A. If an applicant should permanently damage any of the obstacles or objects within Examination Room A, he or she will immediately pay for said obstacle or object in addition to a pre-determined fine. Should an applicant fail to make immediate payment, he or she will be remanded into Legion custody until such time as payment can be provided by the family, a benefactor, or mentor.
“The Institution, henceforth known only as the Library, shall not be held liable for any cuts, bruises, broken bones, or bodily harm of any kind sustained by applicants. If an applicants loses their life in the process of the testing, the Library will notify the proper authorities but not be held liable in any way. By signing this form, applicants agree to all terms and conditions of the test and acknowledge the heretofore risks.” She fired off three parchment forms, handing over a well-used quill and ink bottle. “Sign here and here and here.”
The trio exchanged looks before signing their fake names on the dotted lines.
Secretary Sanjipta snatched the forms as soon as they were signed. “Applicants may now enter Examination Room A. The examiner will be with you shortly. A reminder that applicants are not to speak to each other at any time while inside the examination room, unless specified to do so by the examiner.”
The trio shuffled their way to the great double doors. They were carved from old, black oak, and studded with iron. The carving depicted a warlock with his arms raised in triumph, hands glowing. Below was another inscription.
“ ‘Chance favors thee if thee be prepared’,” Bridget read solemnly.
“Good luck, you two,” Augum said, giving them each a firm nod.
Leera squeezed his hand. “You too.” She raised her palm. “Shyneo. Leigh Sparrows.”
The door opened and the trio walked inside.