Legend (The Arinthian Line Book 5)

by Sever Bronny

  Augum snatched the key from his pocket, ripped the moss from the keyhole (moss which he held firm in his hand of course), and jammed the invisible key into the hole, praying he wouldn’t accidentally drop anything.

  There was a deep click as he finally managed to turn the key in the stiff mechanism. He grabbed the handle and pulled the ancient door open—only to suddenly feel his stomach jam into his throat as he plummeted.

  Inside the Black Castle

  Like a squirrel attached to a thin tree, Augum hung precariously to the edge of the door, a door that had swung out over the deadly booby-trapped stairs, a door he had managed to grab at the very last moment just as the girls lost concentration. He hung onto the iron-worked ribbing with a leg and arm on each side of the door, robe hanging just above the steps. One hand clung onto the invisible key that was jammed into the lock.

  It would have been comical had it not been such a dangerous situation.

  “Sorry, Aug!” a panting Bridget said. “We’ll give you a push so you can get off on the other side.”

  Augum pulled himself up, thankful for upper body strength, and held on tight.

  “Here we go,” Leera said, and the girls each raised a hand, making a gentle telekinetic push gesture.

  The old door’s hinges protested as it groaned closed. Augum grabbed the inside frame and hopped inside. He reached around the door and carefully extracted the invisible key, dumping it in his pocket. Then he opened the door all the way and grinned.

  “Who’s next?”

  Once the girls rested up, Augum and Bridget heaved Leera over the gap, followed by Leera and Augum heaving Bridget, and finally all three of them carefully levitated Mrs. Stone. Just as they set her down, Augum saw a familiar orange glow begin inside the watery pond. The girls saw it too, and all three of them yanked the door shut with a clang.

  “Enemy on other side,” Augum whispered to Mrs. Stone.

  “Mmm,” she only toned.

  They stood listening, but heard nothing more. The door was too thick. Augum handed the key over to Bridget to put away. She and Leera were both wincing slightly. That Telekinesis casting had exercised their arcane stamina. Luckily, their tough training pulled them through. Augum seriously doubted any of the students would have been capable of levitating him for that long, even working in larger teams.

  They moved along. The masonry tunnel, lit by Mrs. Stone’s floating lightning globe, was overgrown with old dead moss. The floor was made of flagstone steps that gradually ascended, ending at a rugged plank door with rusty iron strapping.

  “Just as I remember it,” Mrs. Stone said, examining the door. “Yet the particles of sand in the great hourglass never cease to fall …”

  Leera reached for the door handle.

  “Ah ah, are we forgetting something, my dear?”

  “Oh, right.” Leera spread her fingers over the old rusted iron pull. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.” After a moment, she added, “It’s not enchanted,” and she grabbed the handle.

  “But you could have failed the spell, is that not so, child?”

  Leera froze. “Oops.”

  “ ‘Oops’ could have earned everyone a grisly death.”

  Leera’s head dropped. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone.”

  “Your greatest advantage has and always will be your friendship and your numbers. Use both.”

  Leera sheepishly backed away from the handle, allowing Bridget a try at it.

  “It’s not enchanted for me either, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget reported after casting Reveal.

  Augum suspected Mrs. Stone knew this and was trying to teach them a lesson.

  “Before we enter—” Mrs. Stone placed a perpetually-shaking palm on the door and closed her eyes. As she concentrated, the scion on the tip of her staff began buzzing louder and flashing with silent lightning. When she opened her eyes, the scion clouded over and the eternal buzz quieted back down.

  “The servants must be busy elsewhere. Now would be a good time.”

  “Servants, Mrs. Stone?” Bridget asked.

  “Yes, beyond this door is the cellar, one of many subterranean rooms, amongst numerous subterranean levels. We have a ways to journey, and it will be perilous.”

  “When should Leland start his attack?”

  “His training attack will take place when we need it most.”

  “Training attack?” Augum asked. “It’s just a training attack for him?”

  “Mmm. Now gather your wits. From here on, we shall be walking amongst the enemy, and we shall try to do it for as long as we can without being seen. I want no nonsense and I expect total concentration for the task at hand. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the trio chorused dutifully.

  “Very well, let us begin. Great-grandson. If you please …

  Augum, who was closest to the door handle at that moment, gave it a pull—only to yank off the rotten thing. “Oops.”

  One of Mrs. Stone’s brows rose.

  He awkwardly held it up. “Shall I, uh, repair it?”

  “Much like something that has burned, one cannot usually repair rot or rust, I am afraid. No, what is required here is a more … unorthodox approach. Stand back, please.” The trio took a very large step back. Mrs. Stone then raised a palm and the door began cracking, groaning and splintering, until it popped off the hinges altogether. It threatened to fall backward onto Mrs. Stone, but she held it firm. Meanwhile, something heavy tumbled on the other side, causing a great crash.

  Mrs. Stone nodded at the narrow space between the old door and the jamb. “Let us go through and repair quickly.”

  The trio slithered through, only to be forced to climb over a bunch of giant casks not unlike those in the Castle Arinthian cellar. Mrs. Stone slipped through last, just as a young girl in servant garb came rushing over, no doubt to investigate the noise. The moment she spotted them all awkwardly climbing over the casks, her eyes magnified and she froze. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

  “Flustrato—” Leera snapped as soon as the girl was about to scream. The girl stumbled, gaping with droopy eyes and mumbling, “Yes, m’lord, thank you, m’lord …”

  Augum helped Mrs. Stone down off the cask. She casually turned and with an idle wave of her hand, repaired not just the door, but an empty barrel they had broken.

  “What do we do with her?” Bridget whispered, watching the girl stumble about as if blind.

  Mrs. Stone pursed her lips before shuffling over to her, staff pawing at the ground. She placed a hand on the servant’s forehead and whispered a few words. The girl’s pupils dilated. Mrs. Stone then whispered something else and the girl turned and walked away, as if in some kind of trance.

  “Will she be all right?” Leera whispered.

  “Most certainly, if not a little confused.”

  “Which way now?” Augum asked. They were surrounded by rows and rows of giant casks. The room was long with high vaulted stone ceilings supported by tapered pillars. Embedded into each pillar was a crude torch sconce, burning dimly.

  “If I recall correctly, there are two other doors in this cellar. One leads to the arena, the Trainers, and the guard barracks, and the other leads through the servant quarters and hall. Both will take us to where we want to go, but the former route is certainly more dangerous.

  “Shut up, I know, I heard it too,” barked a raspy voice from their right in a thick and biting accent.

  All of them whipped about to see a middle-aged dark-skinned and black-robed man stride out from behind one of the casks. The moment he got a good look at them, eighteen green stripes exploded around his arm as he began to say, “Gods, that is—” only to suddenly freeze. It took Augum a moment to realize Mrs. Stone had wordlessly cast Paralyze. It had been a quick viper-like movement with her fingers. There was a second guard who stood frozen behind the man. That’s how good she was, freezing an 18th degree warlock and a common guard in a flash.

  The warlock stood frozen with a look of ange
r and surprise on his face, watching them with his dark eyes. He had a trimmed black beard, a pudgy countenance, and wore an Exot ring on his finger.

  “How interesting,” Mrs. Stone said, raising her wrinkled chin at the bearded man.

  “Do you know him, Mrs. Stone?” Leera asked.

  “I vanquished his father, Scadius Von Edgeworth.”

  Bridget gasped. “He’s one of the Von Edgeworths?”

  Augum recalled hearing about how that duel was one of the historical ones she was famous for.

  “Indeed. This here is Zigmund Von Edgeworth, a former pupil of the academy, expelled for illegally dueling a professor. I am disappointed, Mr. Von Edgeworth,” she said to the man, staff tapping the ground as she slowly tottered over. “Though I dare say not nearly as disappointed as your father would be were he alive. I would have thought you would have made something better of yourself other than a common brigand, considering your lineage. Then again, from what I recall of your shenanigans, I should not be too surprised, should I?” She glanced at the trio. “It seems he is a Legion warlock commander. Most unfortunate luck for us, most unfortunate indeed.” She raised her palm near his chest, whispering an incantation while he glared at her with eyes that screamed murder, only to frown after finishing. “Mmm, somewhat determined to resist, are we? Very well then.” She tried another incantation. This time, the man’s eyes closed and he began to snore while still standing.

  “This one may be a bit of trouble later.” She put the other guard to sleep too with an idle wave of her hand. “Let us hide both of them. There, behind the casks.” The trio hurriedly worked together to levitate the men out of the way, while Mrs. Stone used Telekinesis to remove the Exot ring from the man’s hand, which she held in her palm while incanting further. After a few various castings, she idly tossed the ring behind a cask.

  “Has it been disenchanted, Mrs. Stone?” a perplexed Leera whispered.

  “Rendered quite useless.”

  Augum opened his mouth to say that the Lord of the Legion would see that as a sign the trio were there, but then realized it didn’t really matter, for when Von Edgeworth woke up, he’d contact Sparkstone one way or another, and disabling the ring would at least slow him down.

  Leera nodded at the hidden bodies. “Can you not teleport them somewhere, Mrs. Stone?”

  “We cannot teleport in and out of this castle, I am afraid. It is protected by old and powerful enchantments. But it matters not. All we require is a bit of time … and perhaps better luck.”

  “When will they wake up, Nana?”

  “The guard will wake up tomorrow if he is lucky. As for the warlock, that is difficult to say. He is a Von Edgeworth, a family most known for kingdom-touring duels. They are strong warlocks. Let us only hope that when he does wake, we will be long gone.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Augum asked.

  “Likely a hired mercenary in this case. Just as with the Arinthians, few Von Edgeworths remain alive, most having perished in duels, of course. There are two certainties when dealing with the Von Edgeworths—they do not like to lose, and have long memories. In fact, the family has not taken to Scadius’ defeat at my youthful hand all too well, I am afraid. He was a legendary warlock and I had been little known at the time.” She smiled a secret smile to herself, perhaps remembering something from the distant past. “But let us carry on before Zigmund finds a way to fulfill that old grudge, shall we?”

  The trio exchanged a look before hurrying after Mrs. Stone, who shuffled quickly now.

  “Yes, let us try this way,” she mumbled, slipping through a thick iron-strapped door on the right, the trio quietly following. The corridor was dingy and wide with an arched ceiling made of old crude bricks and white mortar. The floor was smooth flagstone blocks. Not too far down the corridor were two opposing doors, the left of which was open. The sound of swords clanging could be heard amongst grunts. To Augum, it sounded like a practice bout. Just as he opened his mouth to opine that they might have gone the wrong way, a squad of Black Guard soldiers turned the distant corner, some laughing, others in quiet conversation. The moment they spotted Mrs. Stone’s group, they froze.

  “Is that … is that the crone?” a squeaky-voiced soldier stammered.

  “Unfortunately so,” Mrs. Stone replied.

  The Call

  The fight was on. Mrs. Stone snapped off one of Augum’s favorite spells that he wished he knew—Slow Time, which had the effect of making her zip along at tremendous speed. She disappeared to cut the troops off from the remainder of the castle, or so Augum assumed. This left the trio in a hallway with six charging Black Guard soldiers, who had of course recognized them as well, shouting ridiculously, “It’s the brainwashed brats!”

  The trio each reacted differently. They only had time to cast one spell each. Augum made a twirling gesture with his wrist, incanting, “Flustrato!” A young soldier instantly tripped over his own feet and smacked the ground helm-first. Bridget paralyzed another while Leera summoned her minor water elemental. A young female guard, upon seeing the elemental, immediately turned around and ran, leaving three guards, a woman and two men—who had to be no more than twenty years of age—to charge on. Their faces were clenched in zealous fury, telling Augum they were real Legion believers. Curiously, he saw two older soldiers beyond who stood uncertainly, a man and a woman in frantic discussion. But there was no time to worry about them, for the three young guards were quickly upon the trio.

  Augum, Bridget and Leera, standing side-by-side in the wide tunnel, summoned their shields to ward off the first attack before simultaneously shoving the air, sending the three soldiers flying. One of them was knocked out by a bad fall, while the other two tumbled a few times before jumping back to their feet, only to be suddenly grabbed by the two older guards. The young guards immediately protested, faces full of shock and fury. But the two older guards held firm, and proceeded to tie the young guards up.

  The trio cautiously advanced, hearing distant shouts of alarm from the tunnels. The young guards continued to protest.

  “Treason—!”

  “You’ll burn—!”

  “Quiet, both of you,” the older woman said. “We have treated you with kindness. Please do not make this more difficult than it need be.” She was olive-skinned and had short graying hair, while the man had blotchy pale skin, a mottled red beard, sunken cheeks, and wore armor that rattled loosely on an emaciated frame. Then they both dropped to one knee with bowed heads.

  “Honored, heroic three,” said the woman. “My name is Lieutenant Samantha Ribbons, and this is my husband, Sergeant Darius Ribbons, but please call us Mrs. And Mr. Ribbons, as we would prefer to feel human once again. We are at your disposal, and have been waiting to be for a long time.”

  “You’re Resistance fighters?” Bridget asked, extending her hand to urge them to stand.

  “We are, my lady,” the older man said before breaking out with a cough.

  “My husband has been ill for some time,” the woman said. “But what brings you here, and how can we help?”

  Just then, Mrs. Stone zipped back into the corridor in a blur, only to stop in a leisurely standstill by the trio.

  “The others have been neutralized for now,” she wheezed, breathing with some difficulty. “But I am afraid it is time for the gate attack to commence.”

  The husband and wife immediately dropped to one knee again. “Great Archmage. We are at your service. It is a supreme honor—”

  “Never mind all that,” Mrs. Stone said, evidently understanding they were Resistance fighters. “Stand, please.”

  The woman exchanged a look with her husband before hesitantly getting back to her feet. They introduced themselves quickly before saying, “You mentioned an attack, Archmage.”

  “You’ll burn for this!” the young female guard spat, squirming against her bound hands.

  Mrs. Stone waved idly at the two young guards, whispering, “Senna dormo coma torpos,” and they closed their eyes and beg
an snoozing. She repeated this on the confused and paralyzed guards too. Mrs. Stone turned to Bridget. “Please notify Ms. Terse that the time to attack has come.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” and Bridget stepped aside a moment to whisper into the Exot orb.

  Mrs. Stone’s gaze fell back upon the husband and wife. “I have taken a wrong turn, it seems. We are trying to reach the subterranean ruins. Can you take us there?”

  “Yes, but it is dangerous, there are hundreds of soldiers down here right now, not to mention all the warlocks and necromancers coming to use the spawnery.”

  “I see. Then please find us a place to take temporary sanctuary while our gate attack commences. It is important that attention be diverted away from the lower levels.”

  “An attack upon the gates will most certainly achieve that end, Great One,” the man said.

  “It is done,” Bridget reported with a grave face, rejoining the group. Her eyes flicked to Augum and Leera. They were full of concern.

  Good luck, Leland and Jez, Augum found himself thinking.

  “We should hide these,” the woman said, indicating the sleeping soldiers.

  Mrs. Stone raised both hands, closed her eyes, and began a complicated-sounding spell. When she finished, the soldiers had disappeared.

  “What happened to them?” the woman asked, incredulous.

  “They are merely invisible. Let us not tarry.”

  “Yes, Great One. If it is temporary safety we require, then we should go this way.” The woman began cautiously leading them back down the hall, taking the door opposite where they had heard practice sounds coming from earlier.

  They entered what Augum immediately sensed was a vast cavern-like room. It was pitch-dark, but sound travelled a certain way and the musty air moved with a slight downward breeze.

  “We need light,” the woman said, and the trio lit up their palms. Immediately before them were a series of giant flat mushroom-like platforms at varying heights. They were decrepit and moldy, with old moss and dead vines hanging off the sides.