by Sever Bronny
“—thank you, Lieutenant, I think I understand how sharp a Dreadnought blade is.”
The lieutenant scratched his nose. Augum had the impression he was trying to find a new way to tell the commander how sharp his blade was. “When will we be receiving the armor?” the lieutenant asked instead, proud shoulders drooping.
“Dreadnought armor takes time to forge,” Commander Jordan replied distractedly, chortling at the stunted actor playing the Tiberran king, who had taken a dramatic tumble. “Relax and enjoy the show, Lieutenant, there will be time enough for battle.”
“Yes sir, it’s just … it’s hard to relax when there’s so much going on.” He seemed to make an attempt at watching the show, but after a pause, leaned over to the commander again. “What do you think is going on with that army?”
“What do you mean, Lieutenant?”
“Well I keep hearing it’s been behaving real odd. Not taking his Lordship’s commands and all that. Do you think those criminals have figured out how to use it?”
“Just part of gaining control, that’s all, Lieutenant. Let’s not give it anymore—”
“—but it’s killed a bunch of our men. That doesn’t sound like—”
“—enough, Lieutenant.” The commander had turned his hawk-like gaze on the man, but steadily returned his attention to the performance. The stunted King Pradeep was squirming in his death throes.
The Lieutenant flexed his sharp jaw. “So is he coming?”
“Tomorrow.” The commander suddenly stood, clapping along with the rest of the crowd.
“And wasn’t that a fantastic performance?” Giovanni boomed with his arcanely amplified voice, striding into the arena, arms spread wide. He was wearing a shimmering multi-colored robe and his hair was slicked back. “Give it up for the Blackhaven acting troupe, The Tumbling Rapscallions—!”
As the crowd clapped politely and the troupe bowed, Bridget whispered into Augum’s ear, “I think I know what’s going on with that army. I’ll explain it to you later.”
“And now, let us get to what you’ve been waiting for … the first of two semi-final matches in the 4th degree!”
The crowd clapped louder as gray-robed attendants pushed forward six wheeled stands brimming with practice weapons.
“A reminder there are several ways to claim victory—have the most points when the hourglass runs out—” He pointed at an attendant manning a giant swiveling hourglass. “Or be the first to five points—” He pointed at the wooden scoreboard above the judges. Augum saw Erika’s overly-painted brows rise in smug satisfaction. “And of course, an automatic victory is scored with a knockout or when the opponent is forced to—” He cupped his ears with his hands and the crowd shouted, “BEND THE KNEE!” An attendant began banging a giant drum and the crowd took up the chant, “LO-SERS SHALL! BEND THE KNEE! WI-NNERS FIND! ETER-NI-TY!”
Giovanni was nodding his head theatrically with the beat until the chant devolved into cheering and whistles. Then he raised his arms indicating the moment had arrived.
“Allow me to introduce our valiant combatants! First, hailing from the cold northern kingdom of Ohm … this seventeen-year-old trained in the scenic Semadon Academy at the top of the world … representing the air element … she runs up and down the Cloud Scrapers for fun and could blow your shack down with a single puff … introducing … Fung ‘The Hurricane’ Zheng—!”
There was a mix of cheers and boos as a light-skinned girl with almond eyes trotted out. She wore a turquoise robe embroidered with birds and snow-covered mountains. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail with a colorful ribbon. She bowed to the judges, the crowd, and lastly to a small segment within the crowd that Augum guessed, judging by the traditional look of their colorful robes, were her relatives and friends from Ohm, at least one of whom was a monk. Then she resumed bouncing and stretching.
“What are the Cloud Scrapers?” Augum asked Leera, who sat to his right. She only shrugged as she clapped for the girl.
“That’s the name of the tallest mountain range in Ohm,” Bridget said from his left while clapping.
Giovanni raised his arms indicating he was about to say something important. The crowd, including the lieutenant and the commander, got to their feet and began cheering loudly.
“The next opponent hardly needs an introduction … he trained in the Academy of Arcane Arts and mentored under Lord Sparkstone himself … representing the fire element as well as the future heart and soul of the Legion—”
“I love you, Robin Scarson!” screamed a girl not too far behind them.
“Marry me—!” screamed another.
Leera made a face like she was going to vomit.
“That’s right, girls,” Giovanni said with a chortle, “not only is he a dream, but he can raise grandma from the grave as a wraith … soon to join our brave troops in the field … stand up and give a bow to … Robin ‘The Tormentor’ Scarsoooooooooon—!”
The drum pounded and the mob roared as Robin swaggered out, nodding his head in a Yeah, you know who it is style. His necrophyte robe swayed as he played up the crowd with beckoning hand gestures. Girls hollered as boys gave throaty academy chants. Robin stopped to theatrically point at his opponent before giving two thumbs down. The crowd cheered even louder.
“Hope you lose, you pathetic evil little—” Leera shouted but Augum immediately clamped her mouth just as the commander and lieutenant in front of them turned to look at her with deadly serious expressions.
“She meant the girl,” Augum blurted. Much to his relief, the two Legion soldiers returned to cheering for Robin.
Giovanni brought the two opponents together to quietly go over the rules, a hand on each of their shoulders. Fung Zheng was bouncing, trying to stay loose, while Robin glared at her with a menacing expression. Giovanni had each of them confirm they understood with a nod before giving them space.
“In the ancient Arcaner traditions … opponents … bow and show your stripes!”
Robin snarled and four fiery rings burst around his arm, while Fung bowed politely, calling forth four barely visible rings of air.
Giovanni pointed at Fung Zheng. “Are you ready?” When she nodded, he pointed the other way. “And are you ready?” Robin’s mouth curled as he gave a slight nod. Giovanni chopped the air. “Fight!” and backed off as the hourglass flipped over.
Robin, instead of attacking right away, took a few steps back, grinning. Meanwhile, Fung slammed her wrists together, shouting with an amplified voice, “ANNIHILO!” A super-concentrated sharp tunnel of wind thwacked into a shield made of hot coals, which Robin had summoned with plenty of time to spare. The crowd cheered.
“The Tormentor easily blocks The Hurricane’s first attack!” Giovanni shouted.
“Flustrato!” Fung shouted, pointing at Robin’s head, but Robin merely shrugged off the spell, much to the disappointment of the trio and amusement of the crowd.
Giovanni nimbly danced around the combatants. “She’ll have to do better than that, won’t she now?”
Fung shoved at the air before her. “BAKA!” but Robin again summoned his shield, leaning into the strike to avoid even having to take a step back. He grinned. “That all you got?”
“He’s toying with her,” Augum said.
Fung curled her fists before drawing a shape. “Summano elementus minimus.” A waist-high air elemental whirled into existence and charged at Robin.
“Summano arma,” Robin said, flexing his right arm. A flaming short sword appeared in his hand and the crowd roared. Augum instantly understood the significance—the symbol of the Legion was a burning sword.
“That’s a 5th degree elemental spell!” Bridget said. “He should have taken the 5th degree test! Ugh, that’s just unfair—” But Augum could barely hear her over the crowd, not to mention his own thoughts—how had Robin advanced so quickly?
Robin swung his burning blade and instantly cut the air elemental in half. It fizzled and squirmed on the ground before disappearin
g in a puff of smoke. Again the crowd roared its approval.
“The Tormentor is flexing his confidence now!” Giovanni sang.
Robin took a moment to soak in his glory before turning on his opponent. “You get one more free one. Make it good.”
Fung was breathing heavily. She narrowed her eyes and raised her palm. “Voidus vis!” The area Robin stood in instantly went black. An opaque cloud had appeared, consuming everything. The crowd murmured worryingly.
“Shouldn’t that be a point?” Leera asked.
Giovanni placed his hands on his knees as he studied the situation with a serious expression. “The Hurricane is taking a different approach. Let’s see if it pays off.”
Fung took a step forward, again slamming her wrists together, voice booming over the arena. “ANNIHILO!” A spiky wind attack shot through the cloud but seemed to miss, gouging the arena wall with a dull thwacking sound.
Giovanni glanced up at the scoreboard. “We have yet to see a point here, folks.”
“My turn,” Robin’s voice echoed from within the black cloud.
The crowd cheered with calls of “Attack!” “Get her!” and even “Kill the gutterborn, Robbie!” The last was shouted by Temper, who stood a few rows over from the trio.
“Closs pesti!” A swarm of bees buzzed out of the black cloud.
“Here we go—” Giovanni chirped.
Fung seemed ready, throwing at the ground. “GRAU!” A loud hurricane roar confused the bees, but only for a moment—they regrouped and kept on. Fung stumbled backward, bringing her hands together. “ANNIHILO!” A jet of sharp wind plowed through the swarm and half of the bees disappeared. She shoved at the air. “BAKA!” and the rest of the bees vanished.
Meanwhile, Robin still had not exited the black cloud.
Fung held her head, wincing. Augum recognized the sign—she was suffering from the side effects of too much arcanery too quickly.
“Dreadus terrablus,” Robin said from within the darkness, voice cool and calm.
Fung’s mouth fell open before she began a slow, horrified scream. The crowd’s cheering died as people became unnerved by the blood-curdling sound. Augum felt goose bumps rise on his arms from her amplified voice, a voice filled with a mix of sorrow and horror.
“Point for The Tormentor!” Giovanni shouted. Augum caught a glimpse of Erika watching with a malevolent gleam as the scoreboard flipped to 1-0.
“Itak oos iu azim!”
Those words sent another chill down Augum’s spine. He remembered facing the vicious little spell in Bahbell.
“One of The Tormentor’s specialties!” Giovanni shouted as a small specter wielding a dagger zoomed out of the cloud straight at Fung. The crowd hollered for her to jump out of the way, but she was still struggling with the Fear spell and the first pass struck true.
“Urgh—” Fung gasped, clutching her cheek. Blood appeared between her fingers.
“Two-nothing!” Giovanni boomed.
Fung, eyes still wide and terrified, began wildly swatting at the air. The second pass also struck, opening a gash in her arm.
“That’s three-nothing! And now four!” Giovanni said as the specter finished a third pass that had sliced Fung’s back. “This is almost over, folks!”
But the specter disappeared mid-dive, before it could score a final point. Augum instantly knew what had happened—Robin had called it off so he could make the final blow himself.
“Bend the knee!” people began calling out. “Submit!” Even some of the necrophytes got in on it. “Give up, you fool!” “Kneel, gutterborn!”
“Stop the fight!” Bridget was calling. “It’s over, stop the fight—!”
Temper egged Robin on in her screeching voice. “Smack her in the face, Robbie! Finish her good!”
The black cloud finally evaporated, revealing a grinning Robin. He opened his palms to the crowd in an Aren’t you impressed? gesture. Many of the necrophytes cheered, but the common folk started booing. Robin scowled at them. “Only gutterborns think that way,” he said in his amplified voice. He turned toward his opponent, who dropped down to one knee.
“There! It’s over!” Bridget was shouting along with Leera. “Stop the fight!”
Giovanni was already striding over to Robin. “Ah, we have a bent knee—”
But Robin bared his teeth and raised his arm, voice deadly soft. “Vikari vikarei.” Fung began choking as her throat blackened. She grabbed it with her hands, eyes bulging.
Giovanni called, rushing over to Robin. “That’s enough now—” but Robin kept his arm up, face twisted with malevolence.
Fung choked, gave a jerky spasm … and fell to the ground in a heap.
The crowd gasped and fell silent. For a moment, Giovanni just gaped.
“Get the healers!” Augum shouted, the only one in the arena to make a sound.
Giovanni quickly took up the call. “The healers, the healers!” making quick gestures at the sidelines while running to Fung.
But by the time the healers came out, it was already too late. Augum was barely conscious of the score flipping to show five points to zero for Robin, and his aunt smiling proudly.
Augum’s Semi-final
“Aww, didn’t even get to cast the good spells,” was the last thing Robin Scarson said before being led away by a gray-robed attendant.
The crowd was muttering angrily, a few calling for Robin’s expulsion from the tournament, others his arrest. Only some necrophytes were cheering, one of whom was of course Temper, who shouted, “Woo! Way to go, Robbie! Good fight!”
Augum had to watch Leera in case she shot over to pound the snot out of her. Instead, Leera grabbed his arm and gave him a pointed look he interpreted as, Tomorrow, you beat him. You beat him and make him pay. It was quite the contrast to Bridget, who looked pale and worried.
“I have to report to the dressing room for my fight,” Augum said.
Bridget gaped at him a moment before realizing what he had said. She furrowed her brow and nodded. “Right, uh, remember to keep your hood up. Watch her gestures, anticipate her moves.” She lunged forward and hugged him tight, whispering, “Good luck.”
Leera hugged him next, squeezing him harder. She gave him a secret peck on the cheek, met his gaze and nodded firmly.
He hurried past the crowd, ignoring the whispers and attempts to get his attention, mind busy running through spells. As he made his way down the tunnel, he passed Robin, who was on his way out, a towel wrapped loosely around his shoulders. The Destiny Stone hung around his neck, clasped in a claw pendant. His nose bulged in the middle and was as crooked as ever, a memento from meeting Augum’s fist.
“You!” Robin said.
Augum stopped but kept his back to him.
“You’re next. Try not to piss yourself.”
Augum felt his nails dig into his palms. It took every measure of self-control to keep his mouth shut and keep walking.
“That’s right, you better slink away,” Robin said with a cackle.
Tomorrow, Augum was thinking. Tomorrow we fight, and I won’t go easy on you, no I will not.
In the dressing room, the pall of a combatant’s death hung as heavy as a funeral curtain. Secretary Sharma chewed on the end of her quill with a distant expression. A few older combatants Augum didn’t recognize stood in thoughtful reflection. It was silent, the air musty and stifling. Above, a troupe sang overly cheery songs which the crowd did not respond to, muttering restlessly instead.
Secretary Sharma finally noticed him. “Oh,” she said, and checked off his name.
It seemed his opponent had not arrived yet. He took a seat and mentally went over his spells as well as possible moves and tactics, until a girl sauntered in. She wore a cerulean garment consisting of a long cloth wrapped around her body and tucked at the waist. It was embroidered with a stormy country scene. The lightning bolts flashed now and then.
“Caireen Lavo,” Secretary Sharma said in a lost voice. “Have a seat please. And you’re late.
Try not to be late.”
Caireen gave the woman a pitied expression before taking a seat beside Augum, which surprised him. “Mother made it for me,” she said in a quiet voice. “Father enchanted it.” She had a wild bush of orange hair with matching wild orange eyes, offset by dark skin.
“Your robe?”
“Yes. Before they …” She swallowed, unable to finish. The sorrow of the occasion had slipped into her voice too.
He gave her a moment before replying quietly. “The Legion?”
She nodded, staring absently at the wall, reliving something in her mind’s eye.
He stared at the same spot. “You see flames. The sky black and red. You hear the echoes. You smell the thatch burning.”
She slowly nodded. “Is that what you’re going to do when you become a necromancer? Raze villages?” She paused, sniffing. “Will you take pleasure in it?”
Augum glanced around to make sure no one was listening, but the other competitors were now too busy mumbling practice incantations, and Secretary Sharma had gone somewhere. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “No, I’m going to fight them.” He shouldn’t have told her this, yet he knew in the bottom of his heart that she would never reveal that secret, not after witnessing the Legion raze her village. They shared that horror in common.
She slowly glanced at him. He allowed her to see his face within his hood, see that he was genuine about what he had said. Her wild eyes narrowed slightly and her mouth opened as she examined his face closely. Suddenly she jerked her head away.
“You’re … you’re him,” she whispered. “Augum S—”
“Shh,” he said gently. “Please. I trust you not to say anything.” He had just let his opponent know who he was. Was he out of his mind? He could practically see Bridget and Leera’s visceral reaction.
Her voice was barely audible it was so quiet. “Back in Tiberra, we had better drawings of you in our Herald. You were a hero there, standing up against the Legion. All three of you, and of course, Anna Stone. They wrote … stories, fantastical stories of your adventures. Now it’s the opposite. Now the Legion spins lies and cruelties about you.”