by Sever Bronny
Augum felt a thrill at hearing his name called and strode to face Leera. The tip of her tongue peeked out as she smiled mischievously. They bowed to each other, allowing their arm rings to flare—four lightning versus four water.
“Ladies first,” he said, raising a brow at her.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m non-traditional. Hit me.”
The girls snickered as the boys snorted laughter into their hands.
Augum made a show of raising his sleeves and the crowd chirped with friendly catcalls.
“Boyfriend and girlfriend are about to have an argument—”
“Lover’s tiff—”
“Better let her win if you ever want another kiss—”
“Show her what men are made of, Augum—”
“He’s probably used to rejection, one more block won’t make a difference—”
That last one, uttered by Elizabeth, had nearly everyone in stitches.
“Settle down, people,” Hawthorne finally had to say. She had her arms folded, while Mrs. Stone leaned on her staff beside her, back hunched, the rock still floating near her head as she observed.
Augum expelled a long breath while he decided which spell to cast. Fear, Deafness, Confusion, or Paralyze? It was a tough call. She was equally strong against all of them. But playing the odds, he settled on the one she had the least practice defending against. His arm shot out.
“Paralizo carcusa cemente!”
Leera froze, but just like Bridget, only momentarily. The crowd expelled a tense breath. Some of the boys nodded proudly while the girls pouted.
Meanwhile, Augum prepared himself mentally. He had to instantly feel which spell she was casting and summon the correct mental shield. It was always tricky because she and Bridget had been evolving their attack as much as he had, guided by Mrs. Stone’s ever-strengthening practice attacks, which she often flung at them during casual moments in Milham. Those sudden attacks had been the most effective at cultivating serious defense.
Leera’s arm snapped forth quicker than usual. “Dreadus terrablus!” and Augum instantly felt a shiver as he feared being speared by the hanging swords overhead. He managed to fight the cold and clammy feeling off, but not before glancing up reflexively in apprehension.
Some of the girls pumped their fists while the boys grimaced.
“Tie breaker,” Mrs. Hawthorne declared, which meant each of them would cast a spell at the same time while simultaneously trying to defend. Whoever got affected the most lost. It was exceptionally difficult.
“A reminder warlocks are to cast a different spell. On three. One. Two … three!”
“Dreadus terrablus!” Augum shouted, arm out.
“Flustrato!” Leera shouted at the same time.
Augum balanced offense and defense, favoring the strike, only to waver a moment later, trying to figure out why he was doing what he was doing, and just where he was. But it didn’t take him long to fight off the effects. He focused on Leera and saw that she had ducked to cover her head.
“Swords?” he asked, chuckling.
“They’re not coming down, are they?”
“That was a remarkably close contest,” Mrs. Hawthorne said as the students clapped, “but, considering the combatant’s reactions, I have to award that one to Stone.”
“Bah,” Leera said, making a playfully dismissive gesture at Augum.
“Close one, Lee,” Bridget said, clapping her on the back.
“Let us make it interesting,” Mrs. Hawthorne said. “Szczepanski.”
“What? That’s not very fair,” Olaf said. “He’s 8th degree, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
Mrs. Hawthorne turned her hawk attention to Augum with a questioning expression.
“Let’s do it,” Augum said. He wasn’t about to back down from a challenge.
The tallest and oldest boy, Bogdan Szczepanski, sauntered forth, necrophyte robe swinging. He removed the animal fur from his shoulders, neatly folded it up, and placed it on the floor nearby.
“Bog’s taking it a little seriously, isn’t he?” Elizabeth declared, to the giggle of some.
“He should, because he’s about to lose badly,” Cry said in a bored voice. The others didn’t seem to appreciate that, however.
“Ugh, shut it, Fry—”
“How about some academy pride, you little jerk—”
“You folded like straw in the wind, Fry, so you’re not one to talk—”
“Cut it out, people.”
Augum and Bogdan bowed to each other. Augum flared four lightning rings and Bogdan eight fire rings. Bogdan took his time tucking his golden chain into his robe before nodding for Augum to go first.
This was a tough challenge. Bogdan would almost certainly have the experience to block a 4th degree spell. Augum would have to make an exceptionally strong casting, and Bogdan would have to seriously mess up his Mind Armor spell to lose.
Augum chose his most potent mind attack. After a few deep breaths and the proper concentration, he whipped his arm forward, splaying his fingers. “DREADUS TERRABLUS!”
It was a superb casting and Bogdan immediately flinched, sucking air through closed teeth while his eyes darted about. He shook it off a moment after.
“He getcha, Bogs?” Alyssa asked.
“Ya, strong. Wow.”
The students muttered amongst themselves.
Augum prepared himself for a strong casting. He steeled his mind, expecting the worst.
Bogdan slowly raised his arm. “Senna dormo coma torpos.”
Augum knew the Sleep spell intimately. Mrs. Stone had been training the trio on all the major mind attack spells for months, and her training was merciless. He summoned the proper walls of mental arcane armor like he was marshaling troops. Although his face may have shown the slightest twitch as he clenched his teeth, the students were unanimous.
“Gods, he did it!
“Against an 8th too!”
Augum breathed a sigh of relief. Bogdan actually strode over to shake his hand.
“Impressive,” he said, nodding with a tight smile. “Very. Ya.”
When the congratulations and clapping subsided, Mrs. Hawthorne stepped before the group. “As you all have probably noticed, that was an exceptionally strong casting. Mrs. Stone’s Arcaner training speaks for itself, does it not?”
Everyone nodded.
“For the next phase of the afternoon you are going to experience true Arcaner training under the tutelage of Mrs. Stone. Please pay attention and do your utmost to push yourselves. Mrs. Stone, the floor is yours.”
Mrs. Stone shuffled before the group, the rock still floating beside her head. She began with the usual spiel about concentration, focus, and mindfulness, before once again going over the three founding principles of arcanery. At long last, she had them focus on a single spell at a time, reminding each of them that “A great warlock practices the basics again and again, until they could perform the spell in their sleep.” The stone that floated beside her was a true demonstration of that quality, and served to get everyone motivated.
The students trained for hours. Throughout, the trio gave and received spell casting tips and tricks, honing their craft while getting to know the students better. Some collapsed quickly, while the more motivated ones hung in there for longer, until only a few remained in the center, the rest slumped against blade-embedded walls nursing severe headaches or nausea.
Bowlander had excused himself early on to sit nearby and watch Bridget, holding his head after only a few castings. Augum had the impression he had been feigning it for attention.
Mrs. Stone was merciless, brows perpetually crossed as she corrected this or that with terse words. Whereas the students got a pass, she often snapped at the trio, telling them to pay more attention or to stop chattering and wasting time. She shakily leaned on her staff with both hands, evidently exhausted, for she usually took her nap around this time of day. Yet her cloudy eyes bore into every pupil that stood before her as if she had known them from birth, as
if she knew their weaknesses and strengths. It unnerved some, perhaps making them quit earlier than they otherwise would have.
The trio persevered as they always did, refining spell after spell, gesture after gesture, and point after point, until they too began to feel the side effects of arcane stamina loss.
Sometime before supper Mrs. Stone, who had just finished correcting Augum on a particular thought process he had been explaining to her regarding the 5th degree Darkness spell, suddenly collapsed. The stone that she had been floating along the entire time fell to the ground, rolling against Augum’s foot. Everyone immediately rushed to her.
“She is exhausted and needs rest,” Jengo declared after feeling her pale forehead with a shining palm.
“I concur,” Bowlander said.
Jengo flashed him a look of annoyance. “Isn’t your potion supposed to last all day?”
Bowlander wrung his hands. “Perhaps the dosage is not strong enough. I suggest Mrs. Stone try a second vial.”
“Is that really a good idea?” Augum asked.
“I cannot say without knowing everything about the potion,” Jengo immediately replied in studious tones.
Bowlander made a dismissive gesture. “Should be fine.”
“Dosages must be monitored precisely,” tiny Kiwi interrupted, her almond eyes on Jengo. “One of the first lessons in potion craft. Further—and I am only 2nd degree—but the potion itself must be studied rigorously, with the ingredients triple checked.” She placed her intelligent gaze on Bowlander. “What is the potion called?”
“Err … doesn’t really have a name.”
Jengo and Kiwi exchanged looks.
Bowlander shrugged. “Because I invented it myself.”
For a moment, the room was silent.
“You … you invented it yourself,” Elizabeth said, slowly extending a slender finger at him. “You.”
“I feel it grossly unfair to judge me for something I did in the academy.”
Augum glanced over at Bridget and saw that her face was gentle with sympathy.
“As Physician to the—” Jengo caught himself before uttering the word castle. “—I think it best to simply let Mrs. Stone rest for now.”
“As you wish,” Bowlander said, pursing his lips.
“Further, I insist on learning everything there is to know about this potion.”
Bowlander, obviously aware of every eye on him, nodded reluctantly.
“There is a task to yet complete,” Mrs. Stone wheezed in a weak voice. “Mrs. Hawthorne.”
Mrs. Hawthorne drew near. “Yes, Archmage?”
“Please conclude … with what we have discussed.”
“Mrs. Stone, perhaps it would be best if—”
“I must … insist, Mrs. Hawthorne. I am quite old and simply … need to catch … my breath.”
The trio exchanged worried looks. Mrs. Stone had steadily been weakening over the last several months. An extra few coughs here, a waver there. And lately she had been seeing and hearing things that did not exist.
“I insist,” Mrs. Stone repeated, eyes closed.
Mrs. Hawthorne, crouched down beside her, nodded. “Very well, Mrs. Stone,” she said in a quiet voice. “Very well …” She glanced around at the anxious faces watching her, before strolling to the center of the Blade Room, face grave. “Those who I call shall report before me. Garryk Garroom.”
Garryk made his way over to stand before her, fiddling with the pockets of his necrophyte robe as he glanced about confusedly.
“Laudine Cooper.”
The poetic drama kid for once wasn’t smiling her dimpled smile as she joined Garryk. Instead, she worriedly fussed with the clips in her pixie hair.
“Haylee Tennyson.”
Haylee blew a lock of blonde hair from her eyes and limped over.
The names continued, each called solemnly with chin held high, Hawthorne’s full body standing as rigid straight as her beehive bun. Jengo Okeke. Bridget Burns. Leera Jones. Augum Stone. After Augum’s name was called, a silence befell the ancient Blade Room. He left Mrs. Stone in the care of the students and lined up along with the others.
“Prepare yourselves,” Mrs. Hawthorne said in a grave tone, “for you have been deemed worthy to take your degree tests.”
Everyone let out a collective cheer.
“I was supposed to be degree-tested too,” Brandon complained when the excitement settled down, yanking off his red bandana and retying it around his head with sharp tugs.
“Perhaps next time you will not be so hasty to step out of line, Summers,” Mrs. Hawthorne snapped. “Detention has its consequences. You will simply have to bear it and await the next time I deem you worthy of being tested.”
“Yes, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Summers replied in a voice oozing with bitterness.
After explaining the rules—no talking, no hints, and three tries per spell before disqualification, Mrs. Hawthorne began with Garryk. Custom typically demanded that she test each pupil on every spell in each of the degrees, up to and including the one they were to be tested on, but, seeing as time was of concern—especially due to Mrs. Stone’s ill health—Mrs. Hawthorne asked that he demonstrate each spell perfectly in the tested degree, in his case, the 3rd. No one took issue with this minor breach of protocol.
Garryk took it in turn to carefully cast each spell of the 3rd degree, ending with his First Offensive. “ANNIHILO!” he shouted, slamming his wrists together so violently he managed to skew his spectacles. A fierce and sharp blast of wind whomped the opposite wall of tightly-grouped blades, dislodging a dagger.
Wordlessly, Mrs. Hawthorne next stepped before an anxious Laudine, who was a year older than the trio yet was trying for the same 5th degree. She struggled mightily, requiring multiple tries for each spell. It was a miracle she avoided disqualification, and tears of relief rolled down her cheeks when Mrs. Hawthorne at last moved on to Haylee.
Haylee was beaming, clearly ready, and it showed in her performance—she didn’t need a second chance on a single spell. Mrs. Hawthorne betrayed a small impressed smile before moving on to Bridget and Leera, each as equally perfect. The students particularly enjoyed seeing Bridget’s summoned bow and quiver, for apparently arcane archery was difficult to master and somewhat rare.
By the time Hawthorne stepped before Augum, everyone was silently standing in anticipation—except for Elizabeth and Kiwi, who watched over Mrs. Stone. Mrs. Stone herself looked on from her position on the floor, ancient face lined with weariness.
“Amplify. Full name. Degree. Element.”
“Amplifico,” Augum said, feeling his hand briefly electrify as he touched his throat. “AUGUM STONE,” he boomed, voice echoing around the ancient room. “4TH DEGREE. LIGHTNING.”
“Darkness.”
Augum shot an arm out toward an empty space nearby, quickly coalescing the correct order of thoughts. “Voidus vis.” A dense black cloud appeared with a whoosh.
“Paralyze.”
Augum hadn’t even dropped his arm yet from the last spell—he merely aimed it at Mrs. Hawthorne, focusing all his arcane might. “Paralizo carcusa cemente.” For a brief moment he thought his casting had been too weak, until she gave a small nod.
“Summon Weapon.”
Augum flexed. “Summano arma,” and a glorious lightning long sword crackled to life in his fist, eliciting quiet Ooohs from the nearby crowd.
Mrs. Hawthorne seemed to breath a slow sigh of relief. She nodded and Augum allowed his sword to disappear.
As she stepped before Jengo, Augum couldn’t help but exchange elated looks with the girls, both of whom were beaming. The only thing that tempered their joy was their worry for Mrs. Stone, evident in the fleeting looks they gave her.
Mrs. Hawthorne ran through the three standard 2nd degree spells with Jengo rather quickly, for he only needed one try each. Then she raised her chin, and in the tense silence that followed, Augum knew Jengo’s greatest test by far was upon him, for the healing element was the most te
chnically difficult element, requiring a perfect knowledge of a vast multitude of terms for parts of the body and how they could be arcanely affected. If lightning was the most dangerous, healing was the most complex, with the highest dropout rate.
The words fell like a hammer. “Bone Heal.”
Jengo swallowed. His hands began to shake as sweat poured down his ebony face.
“Present a limb,” Mrs. Hawthorne stated.
Jengo hesitantly extended his left arm, being sure to draw his burgundy sleeve back.
Mrs. Hawthorne placed a hand over it and then splayed her fingers.
Augum, along with many others, couldn’t help but wince and look away.
“Afflictio traumas bona.” There was a distinctive crack as Jengo howled in pain.
Augum turned back to see Jengo’s arm hanging limply and quickly swelling. And here was the tricky part, for Jengo had to use the 1st degree spell Diagnose to exactly figure out how it was broken, before casting the Bone Heal spell. What a crazy difficult element …
Jengo grit his teeth as he placed his right hand over the break. “Examino potente morbus aurus persona.” His right hand shone with white light that throbbed to the beat of his rapid heart. He frowned in deep concentration as he examined his own broken limb, before allowing the spell to extinguish. Then he took a series of quick deep breaths, concentrated, and said, “Apreyo explithica sysali amtrenervo bona.” His hand once again glowed, and much to everyone’s delight, the swelling began to subside and the bone mended.
The students couldn’t help clapping and cheering, for that had been a notoriously difficult thing to do.
Even Mrs. Hawthorne broke out into a smile as she stepped back. “Congratulations to you all. You have all passed.”
The trio immediately hugged as everyone celebrated. There was much clapping, shaking of hands and patting on backs. Some even cried, for this was indeed a momentous occasion.
“Historical to be doing it with you,” Laudine said to the trio, smiling that dimpled smile of hers once more.
“B-but, Mrs. Hawthorne, when are we getting our stripe?” Garryk asked, wringing his hands.
“Tomorrow evening we shall hold a very special traditional Advancement Ceremony in an undisclosed location. You will know when I teleport you there. You will tell everyone else back in the academy that you are going to an inconsequentially small and private advancement ceremony.”