by Sever Bronny
Augum awkwardly bent his left elbow a little. It wouldn’t go all the way yet, but maybe with time … It hardly mattered. He was just happy to be alive. “And how are you feeling, Nana?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected. I am most happy to be off the road, I must say. Most happy indeed.” Her face creased in a smile. “You have made me proud, Great-grandson. Mighty proud.”
“We told Mrs. Stone everything,” Leera said. “She’s been back for a day now and made us get the ingredients for Abbagarro while she gathered her strength. It’s been an exciting day.”
“I was only made better yesterday,” Bridget said, glancing over at Prudence Klines. “Thanks to Ms. Klines.”
Mrs. Stone wheezed a chuckle. “There’s a reason historically few people steal a scroll from the Antioc Library. Though I should not be one to talk, for I myself tried to get around that very limitation when I was young. But that is a story for another time.”
Augum gently drew her into a hug, whispering, “It’s good to see you again, Nana …” She felt so small and fragile in his arms. Her poor body would not stop shaking. He could distinctly make out a quiet hum, emanating from the scion on top of her staff. It was right by his ear, and reminded him of the great dangers that were out there, waiting for him, for there was one battle left, a final battle for the kingdom, a battle between him and his father, a battle that he now understood he had to face.
She patted him on the back. “And you, Great-grandson. Now come, there is much to discuss.”
Yes, there was, Augum thought. The legendary off-the-books spell, Annocronomus Tempusari—Cron—had aged her significantly. And she was going to teach it to them next, so they may face his father.
Mr. Okeke raised his glass. “But first we finally and properly celebrate our brave trio. A toast to the heroes of the Resistance!”
Augum and Mrs. Stone were each given a tankard of apple mead as the crowd raised their glasses, chorusing, “A toast to the heroes of the Resistance!”
Augum found Leera’s loving gaze and raised his glass as they smiled at each other. “To the Resistance.”
Snug and Secure
As the merry celebration got under way, with much feasting and singing, Mrs. Stone regaled them with some of her travels. She had been to every kingdom in Sithesia, as well as some well beyond the continent, unknown and unheard of by Sithesians.
“Mercy, there are some savage lands out there,” she said at one point to a crowd of listeners, shaking her head. “Be that as it may, no kingdom feels like my Solia.”
She also spoke about Cron. She had carried that heavy golden book the entire time, studying and practicing it when able. As Augum suspected, it was that spell that was responsible for her rapid aging. It scared him how much it had affected her, how shriveled she had become. It didn’t help that throughout her recitation, she kept looking at him with sad and knowing eyes. It made him wonder what she knew, what she was not telling him, and above all, what kind of effect it was going to have on him and the girls.
“It is a most dangerous and difficult spell,” Mrs. Stone said, pausing to cough. “There are complexities and subtleties you will have to learn before even attempting Annocronomus Tempusari. Even I had trouble with it.” She leaned closer. “But after hearing about your adventures and your ability to self-learn, I firmly believe that you are capable of mastering it. All three of you.”
“What degree is the spell, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget asked.
“Let us not worry what degree the spell is. That is not what matters. Sometimes sheer diligence gets better results than traditional constraints and requirements. However, I can say you will be studying well beyond your capabilities. It will be … arduous.”
Augum swallowed. He recalled all too well the grueling times spent at the academy trainers, especially the ones among the Spikes.
Mrs. Stone sighed. “And of course, you are aware of the sacrifices involved, which we shall discuss in greater detail when your training begins, as soon as Augum regains his strength.”
“Will we be training in the 5th degree too, Mrs. Stone?” Leera asked. She was sitting beside Augum, his arm draped around her waist. They no longer hid their affection for each other. Somehow, both felt as if they had earned the right to enjoy what love they could before they died, for both feared their lives might be quite short.
“Indeed, you shall also be learning the 5th degree with me.” She glanced beyond them at Jengo and Haylee. “I shall train anyone who deigns to learn the arts on behalf of the Resistance.”
Augum smiled. The Resistance was now a movement even spoken of in both Heralds. But nothing felt as legitimate as hearing Mrs. Stone say it.
Ms. Singh, sitting on the other armchair nearby, shook her cane. “Panjita does not believe it is safe for ones so young to learn a spell so complex and so dangerous. They shall surely fail or die—”
Priya gasped. “Mother, how could you say such a thing?”
Mrs. Stone sighed a rattling breath. “I am afraid Ms. Singh is most correct. The spell is indeed dangerous. There are no guarantees. I may not live to see the end of the training even.” Her cloudy gaze fell on Augum. “A dark time is coming. The Lord of the Legion has not taken your victory well. He will unleash his armies upon the innocent. Time, as always, is against us.”
“Did you know about my … immunity?” Augum asked.
“I suspected it, yes, but such matters are best discovered by the bearer, I find. It is called an ancestral gift, and it might be one of the few advantages you possess. Your father might not know that you possess it—” She stopped to cough violently. It bent her over. People exchanged worried looks. She held up a staying hand. “I am fine, though I fear myself quite exhausted.”
“Let me take you to your room, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget quickly said, and helped her stand.
Mrs. Stone patted Augum’s shoulder with a veined and spotted hand. “We shall begin when you have regained your strength,” and shuffled by, one arm leaning on Bridget. Then she stopped, turning to look at Augum, Bridget and Leera. “I dare say the Legion are arrogant fools.”
“Why is that, Nana?”
“They could have discovered us with the most elementary spell—Object Track.” She smiled. “The fools never fathomed anyone would dare to steal the divining rod.” She shook her head, smiling throughout, and shuffled off to bed.
Augum exchanged a smiling and relieved look with Leera. They hadn’t even thought of that possibility. He didn’t want to think of what might have happened if the Legion had tracked the powerful artifact.
The celebration went on well into the evening. During that time, Augum caught up on some news. Apparently, Mrs. Stone only teleported to Milham once she had confirmation Augum indeed snagged the divining rod from the Legion, for she had suspected a trick. Then, upon arrival—and Leera’s insistence—she immediately arranged to teleport Secretary Klines over so that she may heal Bridget, for only a secretary of the library could dispel the curse with a nullification ceremony.
“After hearing about what we did, Klines is now firmly part of the Resistance,” Bridget explained, taking a sip of mead.
“She and that floating chair—”
“Senior Arcaneologist Ning, Lee.”
“Whatever, anyway, they had to answer some questions after we took off.”
“As you can imagine,” Bridget continued, “they handled themselves admirably, though they are under suspicion and have to be very careful.”
“Still, good to have them on our side,” Augum said, glancing over at Klines and raising his glass to her. Klines raised her glass in return and inclined her head, before resuming a conversation with Mr. Goss, who seemed to be badgering her with a barrage of questions.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Bridget said, searching the pockets of her blue robe. “I’m going to give her an Exot ring before she teleports back,” and she sped off, leaving Augum to sit with Leera.
Augum’s gaze shifted to Malaika and Charissa, w
ho hovered near Mr. Haroun, conversing with a bored-looking Haylee. “And when did they get back?” he asked.
“Took them like four days,” Leera replied with a snort. “And you’ll never guess—they actually returned with a mule full of clothes! You believe that? Haven’t learned a thing. Almost got robbed too.”
Augum waved at Mr. Haroun, who seemed all too happy to break free of the chatter of the teenage girls. He strolled over and clinked Augum’s glass.
“What a pleasure to have you back, young man, and congratulations on a legendary feat. They shall talk of you in Antioc for years to come, though from what I hear, that arena fight will be talked about for as long as people have tongues.”
“Thank you, sir,” Augum replied, reaching into his robe and withdrawing the pouch of four hundred gold coins he had won. He handed them over. “This is for you. It’s a promise I made to your daughter.”
“Oh, indeed, Malaika told me about this.” Mr. Haroun placed a hand on Augum’s shoulder. “Every copper of this money will go to the Resistance, I assure you of that. We are all very proud of you—”
“Speaking of the Resistance, Hanad,” Mr. Okeke said, drawing near with a glass of wine. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some of the evacuation plans.”
Mr. Haroun nodded. “Indeed. Then let us confer with the Constable. Excuse us, Augum.”
As the hour grew late and Mr. Goss and Mr. Okeke sang For Those Who Return—a war anthem lamenting the heavy hearts of the ones that made it back with nothing but memories of those that did not—Leera turned to Augum with a sly grin.
“Guess what day tomorrow is?”
Augum barely had an idea of what month it was, let alone what day. He shrugged. “Don’t know, what?”
“My birthday, silly!”
“Oh, right!” She’ll be fifteen years old, how exciting! “What do you want for your birthday?”
She pressed his nose. “Already got it.”
He gave her a wry smile. He wasn’t that daft. “No, really—” and the pair of them bantered back and forth before melting into each other’s arms in front of the fire. And that’s how they sat, talking in low voices while curled up in blankets and pillows, until the celebration petered out, and candles snuffed one by one, and everyone slowly trickled off to bed, and the fire dimmed. Yet they whispered on in hushed tones, wrapped around each other, never letting go.
Augum’s thoughts drifted to the days and months ahead. To the final task. He imagined himself facing his father, a man who might not underestimate them again, a man who was probably quite aware of Centarro. He wondered what that battle would look like. He knew now that it was his destiny to face him. Son versus father. How many legends told of such things? And what would learning Cron be like? And then there was Leland and the Agonex. Could they somehow muster that army in a way that made a difference? So many other variables too—the Dreadnoughts; his mother’s body; the Exot rings; the people joining the Resistance in droves, waiting to be led, waiting for the right moment to strike …
“Hey,” Augum whispered, holding a sleepy Leera in his arms. They were the last ones awake. The fire was but coals before them.
She squirmed in his soft embrace. “Hmm?”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
For Fans of the Arinthian Line
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Acknowledgments
The Arinthian Line has been in the making for years, and I couldn’t have done it without the loving support of my amazing wife and editor, Tansy.
As well, a very special thank you to my family, friends, my ART team, and my loyal readers for supporting my work.
I can’t wait to reveal what happens next in the saga of Augum, Bridget and Leera! All my best to you and those you love,
Sever
About the Author
Sever Bronny is a musician and full-time author living in Victoria, British Columbia. The Arinthian Line is his first series and an Amazon best seller. He has also released three albums with his industrial-rock music project Tribal Machine, including the full-length concept album The Orwellian Night. One of his songs can be heard in the feature-length film The Gene Generation. Connect with him at his website severbronny.com.