Legend (The Arinthian Line Book 5)

by Sever Bronny

  The Lord of the Legion strode toward the steps leading to the kitchen. Shoot, wrong way! Augum’s consciousness immediately zoomed to a spot just behind the man, before whispering, “Augum …”

  The man’s head turned abruptly. His black eyes, crackling with lightning from within the skull visage, gazed directly at Augum’s consciousness.

  “I hear destiny,” the man whispered. “And see the great hand of the Fates …”

  Yes, you continue foolishly thinking it’s the Fates, Augum thought to himself as he floated over to the gate that led to the domed chamber and the cavern. Again, the Lord of the Legion’s gaze followed Augum’s floating consciousness, head tilting slightly. After pondering what he was seeing, he strolled to the gate, freezing as he spotted Constable Clouds. Meanwhile, Augum zoomed back to Alyssa’s ballista.

  Just as Sparkstone reached out to summon the divining rod to his mailed hand, there was a loud THWOOM as Alyssa let him have it with an amplified wallop of fire. The Lord of the Legion was caught unawares. The concentrated blast of fire smashed into the man’s back, shoving him roughly against the wall and blowing a fiery hole in the Dreadnought armor.

  Augum immediately began to cast Teleport on her, but the Lord of the Legion’s battle-hardened reflexes were quicker. He smashed his fists together at the spot over the well, shouting, “Annihilo muerto!”

  There was a bright flash followed by an ear-shattering crack of thunder as a monstrous black bolt of lightning smashed through Alyssa’s heavily-armored siege weapon like a spear through parchment. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to utter a single sound. She was simply … gone. All that remained was a torn-up mechanism, now visible, hanging awkwardly before detaching and falling into the well.

  Augum, momentarily stunned, immediately focused upon the spell he had been hoping not to cast this early. After a moment of careful concentration, he uttered the complex phrase, his body mimicking the gestures back in the blade room.

  “Gennisi xanno aetate reversa tempus potam xaeternum veteri momentus mortem.”

  Yet he was unprepared for the effect of his Spirit Form entering that deadly plane that aged him two days with every heartbeat, for the needle-like attacks now felt like hot daggers slicing his barren soul. In this spirit-like existence, his soul was as vulnerable to the vicious ether as dry grass to fire.

  Augum’s being shook with the sharp pains as he focused on the heartbeats. He watched the ballista’s remains return to its moorings above the well and reform as the monstrous black lightning bolt reversed away from it, returning to the Lord of the Legion’s fists. He waited another two heartbeats before yanking the spell, making sure his consciousness was right beside Alyssa’s ear.

  He desperately fought the urge to collapse and be in his own body, instead whispering urgently, “Hold fire—!”

  Alyssa, who had begun to pull the trigger of the great invisible ballista, gasped instead.

  The Lord of the Legion, who was about to telekinetically summon the divining rod to his palm, glanced over in their direction, listening.

  Augum’s consciousness floated even closer to Alyssa’s ear, whispering, “Hold tight for now. When he moves on down the tunnel, watch over that wine cellar door.”

  She subtly nodded, perhaps fearing any greater movement would alert the Lord of the Legion. He was staring right at her, yet obviously couldn’t see through Arinthian’s master invisibility enchantment.

  Augum saw shadows drift around the room like ghosts, but they kept their distance, probably because it had been a minor casting—only seven heartbeats, which meant fourteen days of aging. He was happy the spell had worked, but being pure consciousness like this made him feel insecure and vulnerable nonetheless.

  Meanwhile, the man summoned the divining rod to his hand and inspected it carefully, running a palm over it, no doubt suspecting a trap. Finding none, he pressed the lightning stone and let the rod point him down the tunnel. But instead of going onward, he withdrew an Exot orb from a belt pouch. His guttural voice echoed around the empty cellar.

  “Contact Commander Predis. Report. Contact Commander Predis, report!”

  Your stupid spider-faced necromantic revenant is dead, Augum thought in satisfaction.

  “Contact Commander Jordan. Report!” There was a pause. “Try the entrance in the forest house. I left a marker. Bring my Red Guard and take the upper castle.” There was another pause as Sparkstone listened, finally roaring, “Then call in the rest of my forces, you fool! I want these rats converted and the place ground to dust! Cease contact!”

  Shoot, Augum thought, looks like the others are going to have their work cut out for them.

  “Leave Sparkstone, but hold them off if you can,” he whispered to Alyssa, to which she gave a nervous nod.

  A cold sensation flitted through his floating being as Augum now realized the entire premise of the gauntlet was flawed. The plan might have worked for Mrs. Stone under the Academy of Arcane Arts, but it wouldn’t here. It was simply impractical to have the ballistae attack the Lord of the Legion one at a time. Any damage done would be offset by Augum’s stamina loss in trying to protect those ballistae. And as the man aptly demonstrated, he was too quick off the draw for an effective defense.

  And so as the Lord of the Legion began slowly walking toward the domed chamber, Augum made a critical strategic decision. First he briefly returned to his body and said to Bridget and Leera, “New plan, hide behind great oak by entrance!” There was only one, to the right of the entrance to the cavern.

  As they bolted into a sprint, he allowed his physical body to evaporate, deciding he needed the full power of Spirit Form at the moment. He found Jez with Jengo, telling them the same thing, then zoomed his awareness from one invisible ballista to the next, saying, “New plan, hit him when you hear the blast, but hit him only once,” before teleporting them to a spot in the trees just to the left of the entrance to the cavern.

  “Change of plans,” Augum said upon coalescing by the great oak just as Bridget, Leera, Jez and Jengo arrived. They began talking all at once but he cut them off, speaking at a rapid clip while ignoring the spinning nausea he felt from so much teleportation casting in Spirit Form. “Listen, I placed all five ballistae in a line just there—” He indicated a spot in the trees across the way, with the entrance between them on the left. “They’re going to hit Sparkstone with a simultaneous single blast then retreat. Jez, can you and Jengo insure their safety and evacuate them to the upper castle after they strike?”

  “I’ll do my very best.”

  “And take Alyssa with you. She’s above the well. Defend the battlements and the stairs. They’re going to get in one way or another.” He could feel the castle dome steadily weakening. It was only a matter of time now. The onslaught was relentless, with reinforcements along the way …

  “We’re going to use the scrolls and cast Slow Time,” Augum went on. “If Sparkstone’s smart, he’ll cast it too. As he turns his attention on the ballistae—” Augum gestured between himself and the girls, “—we’re going to hit him from the rear.”

  Augum saw a shadow flick behind Jez and resisted the urge to react. He heard someone chuckle before whispering, “You’re all going to die and then be raised as the dead …”

  Jengo’s teeth were chattering. “This is really happening.”

  “Damn right it is,” Jez said, yanking on Jengo’s sleeve. “Come on.”

  He gave the trio an ashen look before the pair flitted through the trees at a sprint.

  “Our best trap is at the foot of the doorway too,” Bridget said, peeking out from the oak.

  “Exactly what I’m counting on,” Augum replied.

  “How soon will he arrive?” Leera asked.

  Augum flashed his consciousness to the domed chamber, seeing the Lord of the Legion curiously inspecting the closed armory door. He already suspected a trap, no doubt. Hopefully, it wouldn’t matter with the new plan.

  Augum returned to his body. “We’re momen
ts away.” He withdrew Slow Time from his belt. “Ready the scrolls.”

  Leera swallowed. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “Let’s do this,” Bridget said.

  They took a shaky breath and boldly stepped out from the trees, fanning out into practiced attack formation.

  “Remember, one word warnings,” Bridget added. “And quick Cron utterances. Two, three heartbeats at most.”

  “And don’t reappear in the same spot after casting it,” Leera said.

  “And use Centarro sparingly,” Augum chimed in. He gave them each a nod. “We trained for this. We’re ready.”

  They gave him a steely-eyed nod in return.

  “Armor recast,” he said.

  “Armari elementus totalus,” the trio chorused, re-flaring their elemental armors, amplified by the Arinthian studded leather.

  “His Lordship knows exactly what you’re up to, gutterborn,” the voice of Robin whispered into his ear.

  Augum ignored the voice, focusing on what would soon be the fight of his life. He and the girls waited in heart-thumping stillness, the bagpipes screeching with a single dissonant note that seemed to stretch on forever.

  “I’ve got the count,” Augum whispered, flicking his vision to the entrance and seeing the man approaching. Now to carefully time the casting of the scrolls …

  Augum flicked back into his body, which already held the unfurled scroll. “Three … two … one …”

  They took one heartbeat precisely forming their thoughts, before together uttering the sacred phrase that would ignite the spell.

  “Muerto tempus ideus deo didaeiee.”

  The exact moment they finished, the Lord of the Legion wandered into the cavern as if on nothing more than an autumn stroll, the divining rod pointing directly at Augum …

  … only to step onto one of Hawthorne’s traps.

  Face to Face

  BOOM!

  The scrolls evaporated in a puff of smoke just as a massive explosion engulfed the Lord of the Legion. In that precise moment, time became a river of slow-moving honey for the trio, abating the explosion to a glimmering crawl. A heartbeat later, five ballistae fired with concentrated elemental bolts. Those bolts slowly convened at the heart of the explosion, slamming into something within the flames. The Lord of the Legion soon emerged from the explosion, flying backward in slow motion, headed toward a wall. The ballistae had struck true.

  Augum’s heart skipped a beat. By gods, it had worked! His blood raced as five lightning rings flared to life around his arm.

  The battle had begun.

  “Hold!” Augum said, spreading his arms wide in preparation for a coordinated triple First Offensive casting.

  The Lord of the Legion finally slammed into the cavern wall just by the entrance. It was then Augum noticed his Dreadnought armor had been nearly destroyed. There was a giant gaping hole in his chest plate and his leg guards and boots had been completely blown off, revealing blackened appendages.

  “Hold …”

  The Lord of the Legion fell to the ground in slow motion while all the ballistae in the trees suddenly turned visible as their occupants began to flee in slow motion.

  “NOW!” Augum screamed.

  The trio, who had been holding their arms apart for quickness, slammed their wrists together, shouting, “ANNIHILO!”

  The Lord of the Legion, moving in slow motion, tried to raise his arm in time to block the strike, yet was not nearly quick enough. A fiercely sharp blast of water combined with a viciously hard vine punch and a blistering bolt of Augum’s lightning smashed into his abdomen, blowing off the rest of his chest plate.

  “Secondary!” Leera spat.

  The trio took a step forward and pressed the next predetermined attack, each pointing at Sparkstone’s right leg and chorusing, “Paralizo carcusa cemente!” the thinking being that they stood no chance paralyzing the man as a whole, for he was far too strong for that, but perhaps they’d be able to cripple him.

  It seemed to work, for he tried to get up only to stumble. Beside him, the explosive fireball from the trap he had sprung finally dissipated in a mushroom cloud of smoke that slowly roiled to the cavern ceiling.

  “Tertiary!” Bridget shouted.

  The trio took another step forward while simultaneously slamming their wrists together, shouting, “ANNIHILO!” This time blowing off his plumed helm, which twirled aside. His floating crown of six scions was temporarily blown apart before reconvening around his head.

  Augum peeked over to the trees, taking great satisfaction in seeing abandoned ballistae. They had gotten away. Jez would likely cast a spell like Chameleon and get them safely upstairs. The only challenge was bypassing the Lord of the Legion. The trio needed to get him away from the entrance.

  “Quaternary!” Leera shouted, yet just as they stepped forward to press their fourth pre-determined attack, the Lord of the Legion, perhaps in desperation, shoved at the ground, roaring, “BAKA!” propelling himself backward into the domed chamber.

  “Follow!” Augum shouted and the trio bolted after the man. They desperately needed to keep up the attack, for they had the advantage as long as the man was on the defensive. Yet just as the sped-up trio whipped around the entranceway connecting the domed chamber with the cavern, they saw the Lord of the Legion crash-skid into the polished floor while uttering the final word to a certain spell.

  Augum had just enough time to realize Sparkstone had managed to cast Slow Time, instantly animating him to their speed. Sparkstone then made a ripping gesture at himself, flinging off the remainder of his Dreadnought armor while spitting out a quick necromantic phrase. Augum had a glimpse of a rotten blackened being before new armor bulked up around his body, made entirely from twisted sharp bones.

  “Voidus lingua!” the trio shouted in unison, hoping to Mute him, and thus cripple his spell casting. Yet the Lord of the Legion merely wafted the spell aside with a lazy flick of the hand as he got to his feet—though not without a slight stumble, for it seemed his right leg was still paralyzed. Nonetheless, he snorted derisively and flexed his right arm.

  But where they expected to see twenty rings …

  … they instead saw a solid black sleeve.

  Master

  The trio’s stunned reaction at discovering that the Lord of the Legion was now a master necromancer cost them the initiative. Sparkstone pointed at Augum first, quick-snapping “Dreadus terrablus!”

  Augum fell back as if being hit by a mental bull. He thought they had trained enough with Mrs. Stone to somewhat survive a 20th degree Fear attack. Yet the Lord of the Legion was now a master, and fear was his domain. Augum stood no chance, feeling like the ceiling was collapsing on him as he languished in a puddle of sheer terror. He glanced down to find himself covered in hundreds of fist-sized spiders. A girl screamed nearby as something demonic appeared next to him. A great thorny hoof soon raised over his head before coming down with a sickening squish.

  * * *

  Augum’s stunned reaction at being confronted by the bone-chilling sight of a solid black sleeve was interrupted by Leera suddenly reappearing on the other side of him. His careful training instantly told him she had cast Cron.

  “Fear, go spirit—” she blurted in rapid prose.

  Augum instantly burst his body into Spirit Form just as the Lord of the Legion finished uttering, “Dreadus terrablus!”

  In that form, Augum actually saw the Fear attack, expressed as a bulky appendage of viciously-clawing arcane tendrils, whipping through the position he had just been standing in like an invisible demon. The instant the attack passed he reformed in place, only to see Bridget reappear ten paces closer, indicating a second Cron casting.

  “Snuff—!” she called.

  “Extingui!” Augum spat a moment before the Lord of the Legion shouted the same word and made the same slicing gesture. The effect was that the trio’s arm rings simultaneously snuffed. Augum felt the powerful cold wave of the Lord of the Legion’s own cast
ing fizzle upon already extinguished arms, then immediately said, “Ignitio!” re-igniting their arm rings with his scion.

  “Impossible—!” the Lord of the Legion roared, slamming his fists against his bone-armored chest.

  As trained, that rage sent an instant alert through Augum’s mind. The girls too picked up on the tell and joined Augum in flipping their palms at the Lord of the Legion’s head, shouting in unison, “FLUSTRATO!”

  In that brief instance, Augum took a great measure of pride seeing their normally meager attacks have an effect, for combined with Augum’s scion and a triple strike, the Lord of the Legion’s bone-helmed head snapped back as if he had taken a good punch to the face. But had the spell actually affected the man, even in some small capacity?

  The trio pressed the attack, harmoniously slamming their wrists together, roaring, “ANNIHILO!” and sending another simultaneous strike at the man’s head just as he drew his gaze level with Augum. This time the attack obliterated the summoned bone helm, revealing a face that was the mirror of the helm—a rotten skull. The lips were like shriveled slugs, the nose two jagged holes, the eyes nothing more than pale orbs within night black sockets, eyes that seethed with surprise and rage.

  “Left—” Leera said and the trio simultaneously yanked on the man’s good leg. Sure enough, he tried to pivot and resist with his right, yet, perhaps due to the Confusion casting, he had forgotten that the right leg was paralyzed, and he actually stumbled.

  “PRESS!” Leera shouted. Once more the trio smacked their wrists together while moving closer, shouting, “ANNIHILO!” and once more, as trained, aimed for the head, hoping for a killing blow.

  But this time, there was a great SMACK as the scions themselves shot forward, clumping together to block the triple strike like a shield.

  The Lord of the Legion immediately snapped both arms in Augum’s direction, angrily spitting an unfamiliar dark-sounding phrase. An identical Augum, complete with emerald robe, Arinthian armor, vambrace and war ring, appeared paces away from the real Augum, except this one’s flesh was sunken, his eye sockets empty, bones peeking through in places. The doppelganger lunged at Augum, only to do so with the speed of a snail. The Lord of the Legion, no doubt flustered on some level by the triple Confusion casting, had miscalculated, for the doppelganger was not under the influence of Slow Time, and thus subject to being easily sent flying to oblivion with a simple “BAKA!” shove.