by Sever Bronny
“Is that all we know, Father?” Devon Clouds asked. He had a round face, yet the famine had thinned him out, paring down much of the chubbiness. Although an Ordinary with no arcane abilities, he took great pride in being part of the town watch. Usually he was unbearably chatty, but today’s attack seemed to spook him quiet.
“The Legion no longer shares information with its constables like it used to, Son. In fact, I have received only demands of late. More taxes, more weaponry, and a demand for … arrests”
“This we had expected,” Mr. Hanad Haroun said, the distinguished town elder sitting at the other end of the table. His beard was sharp and immaculate, his expression grave. “We must stall them as long as possible. Stall them with bribes if we have to.”
“I am afraid the Resistance coffers are running dry,” Clouds replied. Much of it had been spent on bribes, information, or food.
“Then we shall simply have to sell more assets.”
“Hanad, no!” Mrs. Haroun, who was sitting beside her husband and was a constant nuisance at the meetings, slapped the table with an open hand, bangles jangling, “Hanad, no. The gods know we have sacrificed enough for this silly cause already.”
Mr. Haroun closed his eyes tightly. “Selma, I do not wish to discuss the matter.”
“But, Hanad, what will we pay our servants with—”
“—if things go the way they are going, we shan’t have a home, let alone servants!” Mr. Haroun barked without facing his wife.
Mrs. Hanad bit her painted lip. She was, as usual, overdressed for the occasion, wearing a pristine gold-fringed dress and finely embroidered shawl.
Augum glanced to the empty chair on his left at the head of the table, the honored position where Mrs. Stone usually sat. He wanted to hear her speak on the matter, but she was resting, having defended the east side of the village. Whenever she wasn’t training, she was resting. Her age and energy levels were a great hindrance to her now.
“It seems two villagers have perished in the onslaught,” Constable Clouds said. “A Mr. and Mrs. Miller, doing their farming duty for Milham. I ask myself, are we still safe? If so, what can be done to improve the watch? I leave it open for discussion.”
The table broke out in mind-numbing chatter, offering varying pieces of advice on how to prevent panic, which led to calls for better training.
“I’d like to hear from Miss Burns on the subject of these … revenants,” Lord Broderick Bowlander said in his smooth voice, sitting directly across from her. He was Secretary Klines’ nephew, sent to Milham only days ago because she wanted him safe from the Legion. Klines said he was skilled at potion craft and recommended they have him concoct something to help Mrs. Stone fight off the ravages of age. He was a 4th degree seventeen-year-old air warlock with curly chestnut hair, broad shoulders, deep blue eyes, and chiseled features. He had the kind of charisma girls swooned for, hanging on his every word, even though to Augum it sometimes came across as smarmy. And he was rich. Old money, apparently.
Bridget raised her chin in surprise at being called out. “I can only speculate, my lord. From our research, we know that revenants are very powerful undead beings capable of regeneration, intelligence, and strength. They can only be created by powerful necromancers, and sometimes have arcane abilities.”
Leera flashed Augum a look. They both suspected, by the fact Bridget’s cheeks colored whenever she laid eyes on Lord Bowlander, that she might have a bit of a crush. It began when he paid her an inordinate amount of flattering attention, and was something Augum and Leera occasionally needled her about, though of course she immediately shut them down with a sharp word or two, often berating them for not focusing on what was important—their training.
“And how are your studies going, Miss Burns?” Lord Bowlander pressed, tapping the table idly.
“We are making steady—albeit slow—progress in the spell, my lord.” Upon Mrs. Stone’s strict insistence, they were only to refer to Annocronomus Tempusari as “the spell” in order to keep it secret. No one, other than the trio and a very select few, was allowed to know anything about it. Regardless, everyone suspected they were training in something very special indeed.
“I hear that your arcane archery is improving, Miss Burns.”
“All thanks to Chaska, who has been giving me quality advice.”
“Thanks as well to your fierce and diligent training, is that not so?”
“It is, my lord.”
“I have heard that you repeatedly summoned and fired the bow during training to the point of a nose bleed.”
Malaika and Charissa exchanged grossed-out looks, but Broderick was focused on Bridget intently, the slightest smile playing across his lips. Like the trio, he was dressed in a royal blue apprentice robe, though had yet to join them in training.
“We push ourselves hard because we are lucky to have an attentive and accomplished mentor, my lord,” Bridget replied.
Broderick turned his blue-eyed gaze upon Augum, then Leera, before settling back on Bridget. “If the legendary Anna Atticus Stone is the crown of the Resistance, you three are its jewels.”
“Hear, hear,” people muttered, many knocking on the fine mahogany table in agreement.
Broderick nodded gravely. “We must keep you safe at all costs. The kingdom’s hopes rest upon your shoulders, a mighty weight indeed. But I urge you …” He leaned forward, pressing the tips of his strong fingers together before his face. “… to study harder than you have ever studied before.”
Bridget dipped her head. “Of course, my lord.”
Leera pretended to scratch her ear, murmuring to Augum, “What, does he think we’re just lollygagging about on those Trainers?”
Broderick inclined his head respectfully. “Allow me to put myself at your service, Miss Burns.”
Malaika Haroun, who was sitting beside Bowlander and used to always try to get Augum’s attention (until Bowlander’s arrival, that is) suddenly blurted, “Your lordship would be of invaluable service to the town watch!” She was wearing a fine lemon-colored dress that paired well with her soft ebony skin, and was spiraling a finger through long curly black hair. She and her best friend, Charissa Graves, had been “volunteering” their time for the watch, though Leera theorized they spent more time in front of a mirror than they did out of the house.
“Yes, it would be more than helpful to have a warlock patrolling the grounds and on standby when others are unavailable,” Clouds added. “My son coordinates the watches. You two should speak.”
Devon slid down his chair a little.
“Yes, please do join us,” Charissa added while twirling her own auburn hair. She had a round, simple face, wide-set eyes and was known to be doorknob daft.
“I would be honored to lend assistance in whatever capacity I can,” Lord Bowlander said, smiling between the pair of them. “As long as I have enough time to complete my regular work with the potion.”
Bridget fumbled about in her pouch. “Then you should have one of these.” She offered up an Exot ring. Leera immediately flashed Augum a bemused look.
Annelise, a mousy milk-haired servant, dutifully appeared by Bridget’s side. Bridget handed her the ring and she glided around the table, offering it to Broderick with rosy cheeks.
“Oh, awesome!” Broderick replied, before clearing his throat. “I mean, I am most honored. This is an Exot ring, is it not?”
“It is, my lord.” Her face was placid, though Augum could see her fingers fidgeting madly in her lap.
“And how is the potion making going, my lord?” Jengo asked. Ever since Bowlander’s arrival, Jengo had been skeptical of the older teen’s abilities.
“Well enough. Chaska’s father has been most kind with donating ingredients from his shop.” Bowlander returned his attention to the ring. “And this will allow me direct communication with whom?”
Bridget hesitated only a moment. “That would be me, your lordship.”
Broderick smiled. “Ah, very good. And will Miss
Burns be kind enough to teach a humble servant how to wield such a prized gift?”
Bridget’s cheeks now went apple crimson. “Certainly, my lord.”
Malaika’s lips thinned. “Are we sure Miss Burns is the most suitable person to coordinate something so important and requiring so much responsibility?”
Charissa idly pointed at Bridget. “Yeah, she might not know how to do it … and stuff.”
Constable Clouds gently cleared his throat. “Miss Burns, besides the esteemed archmage Anna Atticus Stone, is the most competent and capable warlock we have sitting at this table. I think we can all agree she is most worthy to bear the weight of coordination.”
“Hear, hear,” the table chorused.
Bridget’s chin rose a little higher as she nodded grateful thanks to the assembly.
“But aren’t there, like, fifty rings for her to control or something?” Charissa pressed.
“Ten,” Leera corrected. “But we’ve only distributed seven.” She began counting on her fingers. “Augum, myself, Haylee, Mrs. Stone, Caireen Lavo in Antioc, Secretary Klines, also in Antioc, and now her nephew, Lord Bowlander. Jengo will receive one as soon as he passes his 2nd degree.”
Charissa raised a pencil-thin brow as she flashed a smug smile. “You forgot Bridget.”
“Bridget has the controlling orb.”
“Oh.” Charissa’s wide-set eyes focused on her folded hands. Her face scrunched in concentration. “So … that means she doesn’t need a ring?”
“Right.”
“So you’ve given out … how many again?”
“Seven.”
“And Bridget doesn’t need one.”
“Nope.”
Charissa twiddled her thumbs a moment. “Can … can I have one?”
“Are you a 2nd degree warlock?”
“Well, duh, obviously not.” She snorted a laugh with Malaika.
“Guess you’re out of luck then, eh?”
Charissa frowned. “But … why can’t I get one of the extra ones?”
Leera flipped a palm questioningly. “Don’t you have enough jewelry to play with?”
Charissa glared.
“Let us return to the subject of security, please,” Mr. Haroun said, sweeping the table with an iron stare. “I propose we double the night watch.”
Many sighed, some groaned.
Bowlander leaned forward once more. “Honorable Haroun … Constable Clouds … if I may, I formally place myself at the disposal of the village watch.”
“You may append the watch,” Devon said, adjusting his doublet while raising his chin. “That is, as Deputy Coordinator of the Watch, I approve your appointment.”
Clouds smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “That’s my boy.”
Devon flashed a cagey glance Broderick and Bridget’s way before shriveling in his chair. “Father, please …”
“I can help as well,” Bridget blurted. “With the night’s watch, that is. Besides, I need to teach Lord Bowlander how to use the ring.”
Leera scoffed. “Bridge, we’ve got early training tomorrow. You can’t lose sleep, you know that.” She flashed Augum an Is she being ridiculous or what? look.
“No, of course not, you’re quite right.”
“But Miss Burns can teach me how to use the ring after this meeting, if that suits her fine.”
Bridget could only manage an embarrassed nod.
“Enough!” Mrs. Haroun hissed, pointing at Augum. “You have not provided us with food. You are a failure!” While his face grew hot, she flicked a wrist brimming with bangles at Bridget and Leera. “Nor have you!” The girls’ heads dropped.
“Selma, please—”
“No, I insist on being heard on the matter, Hanad. We are starving. Look how gaunt our precious daughter is! Look at her! It is beneath her. It is beneath us, Hanad. Milham took the fugitive trio in. The warlocks have promised food and have not delivered.” She slapped the table with each word. “I. De. Mand. An. Swers!”
“That is not fair, Selma—”
But Augum realized that those assembled had to agree with her on some level because they turned to him for a response.
“Milham lost three farms tonight,” he replied in the most even and compassionate tones he could, standing. He swept the table with his gaze, being sure to make eye contact with every soul in that room. “Two people died defending those farms. I didn’t know them, but some of you did.”
There were grave nods all around.
“We do indeed need to find food. Mrs. Stone can only do so much. We can’t receive secret supplies from Antioc because the roads are constantly being raided by the undead or by bandits.” He glanced at Leera, who gave him a pained but encouraging smile. “And we’ve had little luck hunting.”
He swallowed. So this was what leadership meant. Taking on true responsibility, creating solutions to difficult problems. Except he had no solution. He stared blankly at them, throat dry.
Mrs. Haroun glared at him. “So what do you propose to do then, Your Worship? Have us starve?”
The table broke out into tumult.
“He’s only fifteen,” someone declared.
“Still has another year before becoming a man,” another added.
Well, less than half a year to be exact, Augum thought, but what did it matter? The condescension made Augum’s blood boil.
“We concentrate on the remaining farms!” he blurted, silencing the table. “The protective enchantments held. None of the undead entered the village. So we concentrate our defenses on the remaining farms and double the watch at night … at least until we find alternate food sources.” Maybe he could convince Mrs. Stone to extend the protective enchantments to those farms, though he knew how much that weakened her.
“Forgive me, Augum,” Bowlander began, “but those farms will never survive another onslaught like that. We need more warlock guards.” He gave a furtive glance at Bridget.
Augum knew he was right. Milham was sheltering them and suffering as a result. They would simply have to train sleep-deprived.
“Then we shall have to help,” Augum said. “Bridget, Leera and I will join the watch.” He sat down while the table broke out into arguments, most against the idea, but some—namely Malaika, Charissa, Mrs. Haroun, and Bowlander—for it.
Mr. Haroun stood and they settled down. “As much as I admire the trio’s courage, I forbid them joining the watch. We are placing too much responsibility on their shoulders. We must remember that the Resistance is more than a few people. It is a kingdom of suppressed souls.”
There were many nods from the table, some rapping of knuckles.
“We must find a solution to the food problem ourselves. We also must coordinate a defense of the town, again, ourselves. The Resistance cannot burden the trio more than it already has. They have a grave and urgent task ahead in defeating the Lord of the Legion. Yes, we are hungry, but there is a greater need here. The kingdom’s hopes rest on the trio having a full belly and receiving a complete night’s rest. Every. Single. Day.” He wagged a finger. “That we cannot skimp on, for their training will suffer.”
“Agreed,” Constable Clouds said, and many finally muttered their assent.
Augum expelled a long breath, suddenly feeling exhausted. It had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. Under the table, Leera’s hand found his and their fingers entwined.
“We are tired,” Mr. Haroun continued. “There are dead to attend to and hearts to nurture. I propose we table the discussion until the morn, when we can hear from Mrs. Stone. In the mean, we shall concentrate the watch on the farms. Constable Clouds, Mr. Okeke and I will coordinate the venture.”
“And me too!” Devon piped in.
Mr. Haroun chortled. “And young Mr. Clouds as well, of course.”
The assembled group relaxed and began to stand.
“Ugh, finally,” Leera muttered, blowing hair from her face. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”
Twilight
>
Outside the Haroun manor house, under the glow of a plum dusk, Augum and Leera looked on with tilted heads as Bridget giggled from a joke Lord Bowlander told.
“She’s turned into a puddle,” Leera noted with a wry grin.
“Nice to see her take her mind off things,” Augum said. Of all of them, he felt like Bridget was under the most pressure. She had the Exot orb and was responsible for coordinating all communication between the Exot ring bearers, including Mrs. Stone. Ever since, Bridget has been the driving force in the trio, making sure they got up on time, ate well, studied diligently and trained hard. But the stress of being the coordinator came with a cost. She was short with people at times and she constantly lost sleep. Some days she hardly smiled.
“He’s two years older, but I suppose I’ll allow it,” Leera said.
“Might not be for long.”
“What do you mean?” Her face fell. “Oh.”
“Sorry, that was in poor taste.”
“Yes it was, you jerk.”
He had been avoiding the topic of late. They all were. Aging, one of the side effects of Cron. It was only a matter of time until they found out what that meant and how it would affect them. His worst fear though was losing Leera. He would rather see the kingdom in flames, lose his arcane powers, and be tortured than lose her. And the spell frightened him in that way. What if he became so old she found him ugly? What if she outgrew him or got bored or fell out of love?
He entwined his fingers with hers and drew her near. She glanced up at him and smiled. He had grown taller over the last few months, something she enjoyed needling him about, but always with an affectionate smile.
They spotted Haylee limping over, arms folded. She had discarded the cane months ago, choosing the limp over the “old man stick” as she liked to call it. “Hey, lovebirds. Some attack, huh? Seems to be getting worse. What did I miss at the meeting?”