by Sever Bronny
“No way to fix it?” Leera asked, idly playing with Augum’s birthday necklace while still in his lap.
Bridget slowly shook her head.
Leera’s gaze wandered skyward. “I saw stuff during Cron that … that I’d rather never repeat.”
Augum recalled seeing her and Bridget die repeatedly as well. He squeezed his girl closer, grateful those ends had not come to fruition.
Bridget had the same distant look, no doubt recalling seeing him and Leera die in horrible ways. For a moment, Augum saw her as the old lady she had turned into after passing out inside the spell. He did not bring that up, though he knew the sight would haunt him forever.
Suddenly he heard a distant echoed whisper on the other side of the ruined wall. Interestingly, the girls’ heads turned in that direction too.
“You hear that?” he asked.
The trio exchanged looks before jumping to their feet and striding around the old ruined wall, where they found the vague outline of two people, flickering as if they were ghostly candles.
“Can you hear me?” said one of the figures, the voice difficult to make out.
“Vaguely,” Bridget replied, shielding her eyes from the downpour.
The forms soon became more distinct, revealing a woman in her early thirties wearing a shimmering white robe. She stood beside a hairless man with round, pink spectacles, wearing a simple loincloth.
“Krakatos!” Augum blurted. And then goose bumps rose on his skin. There was lightning embroidered onto the woman’s robe, lightning that flashed! It could only be—
“Nana!”
“Mrs. Stone!” Bridget exclaimed.
“You’re so young and beautiful!” Leera added with a gasp.
“Hello, Great-grandson. Hello Bridget. Hello Leera.” The legendary master warlock Anna Atticus Stone indeed looked young and beautiful and vibrant, just like the painting of her younger self back in Augum’s room. But unlike some Leyans, she had all her hair. It was long and a luscious chestnut brown. Her face was smooth and strong, her sharp blue eyes intelligent. She stood radiating peace and knowledge and strength. Her right arm crackled with a full lightning sleeve.
“We do not have long to talk,” Mrs. Stone continued in her echoed voice, “for a tremendous amount of energy is required to perform this feat of communication, more than you can imagine.”
“I got your clues!” Augum blurted. “Except I only heard the words ‘soul-bound’ and ‘glow’.”
“Ah, indeed. I am quite surprised you received anything at all, given my incompetence at communication between the planes. I would have asked Krakatos to deliver the message on my behalf, but we had, truth be told, little time together, for Magua had been keeping us quite busy here in Ley.” She smiled. “Congratulations are in order. You have managed to defeat a man even I could not conquer. And you understand why that is, do you not?”
The trio squirmed. Augum once more felt like a daft pupil learning things from scratch.
“It is because of love, sacrifice and friendship. Evil knows only selfishness. It does not know teamwork or friendship, and therefore cannot know those strengths, nor can it anticipate those strengths in battle.”
“Just what I was going to say,” Leera muttered, receiving a silencing elbow from Bridget.
“Just as Krakatos and I worked together to defeat Magua, so too did you three work together to defeat Lividius.”
“How did you defeat Magua in that same moment?” Augum asked.
“It was key, for had the Lord of the Legion had any time to realize the significance of the broken link, he would have immediately retreated, sensing his destruction with the acquisition of the seventh scion, and he would then search for a way around that limitation. His vanquishing was only possible if all of us triumphed simultaneously, working together. We believe that had Sparkstone acquired the seventh scion while Magua was still alive, he would have fused all seven together using a powerful ritual the two of them had concocted and prepared for.”
“Then he really would have been invincible,” Augum muttered.
“Indeed.” Mrs. Stone gave a deferring nod to the ancient Leyan beside her. “Krakatos has the ancient arcane ability to watch over the world. Together we coordinated a calculated simultaneous surprise attack on Magua. With much diligent planning and study, we placed ourselves, much like you three … in a position of advantage.”
Augum beamed. It appeared Mrs. Stone and Krakatos had conspired to enact their own—albeit highly advanced—Gauntlet plan.
The Resistance had won, well and truly.
“Now, how fared you with Annocronomus Tempusari?”
“We passed the year threshold, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget replied.
Mrs. Stone exchanged a look with Krakatos before continuing on. “It is as we feared. Unfortunately, those shadows are destined to consume you.”
The trio exchanged bleak looks of their own.
“However,” Mrs. Stone went on, “Krakatos knows an ancient ritual that can vanquish those shadows for you … at a price.”
“Never shall you incant the aforementioned spell post ritual,” Krakatos added in his rapid and precise prose.
Augum glanced between Leera and Bridget. “Uh, we have no problem with that whatsoever, sir.” Augum hated that spell. Sure, it was powerful, but he longed to never have to deal with shadows again, or see them accidentally age fifty years before his eyes. He’d rather just be careful and not get into situations that could get him killed, like every other normal person.
“So be it. I shall perform the ancient ritual upon this evening’s torpor.”
“What does that mean?” Leera whispered.
“When we sleep,” Bridget replied.
“You shall hear plenty of talk of kingship and queenship and royalty and the like in the coming months,” Mrs. Stone said. “I do hope you will ignore such nonsense and focus on your studies.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the trio chorused, nodding. In fact, Augum couldn’t wait to attend the academy, or what was left of it.
“Prudent of you.”
“Perhaps Augum Arinthian Stone would like to voice an old query,” Krakatos said abruptly.
“Huh?” Augum blurted before immediately clearing his throat and correcting with, “Sorry, uh, I am not sure I understand, sir.” One does not talk stupidly to a man known to many as an Unnameable.
“Once upon a day an ancient soul such as I, confounded by the question before him of whether or not Leyans should meddle in mortal affairs once more, came across a timely coincidence. That of a shared birthday.”
“You’re talking about me sharing a birthday with my ancestor, Atrius Arinthian!”
“An augury that in the old days would have portended either calamity or fortune.”
Augum got the impression that “old days” meant thousands of years ago.
“One such as I, caught in quite the insolent quandary, decided the time for alacrity had come. Waited I for ten and four years, watching over a certain boy, until a certain moment presented itself when the boy stood upon a certain fateful precipice, on one side of which lay the blithe continuity of happenstance, whereas on the other lay destiny’s rapture. The opportunity for incomplex change called to me. Fleeting like a dying fire though that opportunity be, I broke the sacred vow and became its bellows.”
The hair on Augum’s neck stood on end. “You’re talking about me landing on Mrs. Stone’s mountain. That was you that put me there!”
“Not quite. I merely—through limited and crude means—guided your path along that grassy plain, for in truth, you had been walking, as one may put it … in circles. And when the storm took you and struck you with lightning, I knew I had been in the right in my meddlesome choice, for you lived through the strike, indicating a certain gift had skipped the generations. I then allowed you a graceful feather fall before complete withdrawal, for any more of one’s meddling could have dire repercussions. I nay lay a tendril finger upon you again, nor even an eye, trus
ting the great Fates to shepherd whatever destiny lay in wait for you.”
“But you began my path for me.”
“A path you chose to tread, for choice is the root of thinking conscious life. Hence Ley, once reborn and rebuilt, shall share its knowledge once more. The ancient Library of Ley will be opened and the clever curious will partake in the fruits of that knowledge. But alas, we divagate, for such measures will claim abundant time, nor are they assured.”
Augum, still processing what the ancient Leyan had told him, did not know what to say.
“And speaking of choice,” Mrs. Stone said, “one shall come before you soon enough, Great-grandson.”
Augum raised his head. “The Dreadnoughts. I have given them a lot of thought.” He recalled Dredius Hestius and Mateo and Fasa and Esha the young lioness, as well as all those ancient, tired lions. “I would like to ask you a question, Krakatos, sir, if I may.”
Augum then asked the question that had been bothering him, a question he suspected no one had ever asked the man. After receiving the answer from the wizened Leyan who some perceived as an Unnameable, Augum somberly nodded his head, knowing what that answer meant.
At long last, Mrs. Stone brought her hands together. “There is little that you need to hear from me, other than I am so very proud of all three of you.” She began to flicker.
Augum instinctively reached out only to let his arm fall slowly. He did not know what to say, nor did he know when or if he’d see Mrs. Stone again. His heart panged, sore from all the goodbyes.
“Wait, Mrs. Stone—” Leera called. “I, uh, have a quick question to ask.”
“If you insist, child.”
“Who disenchanted Burden’s Edge?”
“That had been done long before my time, for the enchantments had set to permanence well over a thousand years ago. But we can guess it was an Arinthian, passing the blade on in the family along with the scion.”
“One more question, Mrs. Stone, please!”
Young and beautiful Mrs. Stone scowled, but remained, though flickering more and more.
“Uh, what degree is Annocronomus Tempusari?”
There was a minor offended scoffing sound. “I hardly think such a thing should matter,” followed by a weary sigh. “But if you insist on knowing, child, it is a master level spell.”
The trio exchanged sudden looks. They had learned a 20th degree master spell, only traditionally available to those who had attained mastery.
“Over three millennia ago, The Founding set arcane rules in the form of degrees, but the truth is, with the right motivation and aptitude and training, not even the most complex spell is safe from a devoted and focused pupil. It was something Lividius understood. You have diligently studied Annocronomus Tempusari under one of the most difficult and uncompromising regimens known, proving that truth. It was a rarity to behold, to be sure.” She added in afterthought, “Though I do hope you possess the good sense to not abuse this knowledge.”
“Never, Mrs. Stone,” the trio chorused quickly.
“Good. I shall hold you to that.”
Augum felt a hard lump in his throat. “Thank you … for everything.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Stone,” the girls added.
“You are most welcome.”
“I’ll miss you, Nana.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Stone!” Leera and Bridget said in wavering tones.
“And goodbye to you,” Mrs. Stone’s voice echoed as she faded away into nothingness, only to add, “And study hard!”
Krakatos began to flicker next. “Assume not that what you are told is the truth. Rather, use critical thinking to establish a foundation of wisdom until the light of awareness shines. They once called it … enlightenment,” and he too disappeared into nothing, leaving them to stand in the cool rain.
“Ugh, his riddles make my brain hurt,” Leera said, rubbing her temples.
Augum only smiled at the mystery of it all.
“20th degree master spell,” Bridget eventually mumbled, turning to Leera. “You get one guess what degree Slow Time is.”
Leera gasped. “No …”
“That’s right. 20th. But it’s not a master level spell, only a standard degree spell, and one of the most powerful spells there is.”
“Huh,” Augum said.
Bridget perked up her ears. “Is that Laudine singing a story about us?”
“Crazy poets,” Leera muttered.
Augum took Leera’s hand. “Let’s rejoin the celebrations before things get out of control.”
They wandered back to the bonfire where they were embraced by a happy and grateful throng all too eager to hear yet another retelling of their epic tale, for a new fireside story this grand had not been heard in many a year.
Epilogue
That night, Krakatos had been true to his word, for the trio awoke unable to ever cast Annocronomus Tempusari again. But so too did the shadows disappear, leaving the trio in blissful peace. Mysteriously, the golden book on Annocronomus Tempusari had also disappeared, which Bridget surmised somehow went to the ancient library of Ley … or maybe Antioc, it was difficult to know for sure. Either that, or it had been destroyed as part of the ritual.
Later that evening, after a day spent cleaning up with friends and telling stories or jokes and reminiscing about adventures, Augum found himself alone in the bailey, watching a vast sky of twinkling stars and smelling the thick scent of a freshly burned forest after a long rain. He awaited the coming of an ancient soul and the question that he already had an answer for.
At long last, when the moon was a knife in the sky and the breeze had forced him to draw his prized academy robe close, a guttural voice that sounded like two millstones grinding together spoke to him from the darkness.
“A question cometh I to asketh.”
“An answer hath I to giveth,” Augum ceremoniously replied, slowly turning around. Standing before him in the quiet Solian night was a single emaciated Dreadnought—Commander Dredius Hestius. The old lion’s back was bent. His battle-scarred armor was dull and stained with soot, great gray mane frizzy. And behind his eyes seemed to lay the entire span of history.
Augum brought forth the sacred words to his lips. “The one who cursed you is no more. I, the new Lord of Dreadnoughts, hereby release you from your ancient bonds. You and the remainder of your kin shall live out the rest of your day as mortals. You shall never serve a master again.”
The old lion gasped and stumbled as if hit by a punch to the gut. His head dropped as he quietly wept for some time, until at last he nodded to himself. “Nary had I bethought this day wouldst cometh.” He glanced up at the stars and drank them in as if for the first time. “They do so moveth with time, but softeth, gentle slow. The constellations, eons past, burneth different than on this fleeting eve.”
Augum, who had been watching the same sky, allowed the moment to resolve before leveling his gaze upon the old lion and speaking the next ceremonial phrase. “The final choice thee and thy kind shall so chooseth.”
Dredius returned his ancient gaze upon Augum. “Sleep. It be sleep many of us will so chooseth. Forgiving, eternal sleep. For life, after so longeth a time, hath so been liveth with great thoroughness.” He gave a single nod of his gray-maned head. “I give thee thanks as only a soul who so hath seen too many a sunrise and sunset may impart, as burned as he be by them all.”
“Please give Esha my best regards.” Augum wondered if she’d choose the eternal sleep as well. Something about her inquisitive nature told him probably not, preferring to live out her life as a mortal.
“That I shall.” The lion stared only a moment. “Forever farewell, legendary one.”
* * *
Augum said little to the others about his encounter with the Dreadnoughts, only that they were finally released from their torment. His friends exchanged looks, knowing what that meant, but mercifully did not make a big thing out of it, for there was enough of that going around as it was.
Over the c
oming days, the trio worked with the inhabitants of the castle in rebuilding and repairing the damage done by the Legion. The torture room on the fourth floor, left over from the days of Narsus the Necromancer, was disassembled. A memorial ceremony was held for the fallen, including Constable Clouds, Mrs. Hawthorne, and Bogdan Szczepanski, as well as the countless others throughout Solia who had lost their lives to the Legion. Their souls were escorted to the great beyond by Mr. Fungal’s solemn bagpipes, to a procession of bowed heads.
Sometime in the tenday following, a bedraggled and eccentric old man by the name of Dipper showed up from Blackhaven carrying a heavily wrapped package under his arm, which he delivered to the trio. It turned out to be a painting Mrs. Stone had commissioned at some point in the recent past, depicting them all together. She stood behind Augum wearing her famous glimmering white robe while leaning on her staff, the crinkles on her face pronounced. Leera stood to Augum’s right, wearing a classic wry smile; and Bridget to his left, face soft with compassion. All three wore emerald initiate robes. Interestingly, Augum held an orb in his hand.
“Look at that,” Leera said, pointing at the scion. “She knew you were going to get it even as she commissioned the painting.”
That didn’t really surprise Augum, for Mrs. Stone had always been a mysteriously prescient woman.
After disposing of the giant old burnt tapestry, he had the painting hung in the landing above the foyer, so it was the first piece people saw upon entering the castle. He also had Mrs. Stone’s portrait of her younger self hung beside it.
But staring at the paintings gave Augum an idea, and he ran after the old painter for another very special commission that was going to take some collaboration.
Sure enough, later that month the man came once again, and a second unveiling was made. This time, it was portraits of those that had sacrificed their lives for the Resistance, portraits painted using careful descriptions of body and character. Sir Tobias Westwood. Sir Eldric Gallows with his fellow knights of Prince Sydo’s Royal Guard. Mya Liaxh and Sydo’s other servants. William Smith the Plotter, who the trio knew as One Eye. Miralda Jenkins the healer. Oba Sassone the Nodian Leyan. Raptos the wolven. Mr. and Mrs. Ribbons. Constable Clouds. Mrs. Hawthorne. Bogdan Szczepanski. And beside Mrs. Stone’s young portrait now hung the portrait of her Leyan husband, Thomas Stone, as he had looked in Ley, for that was how Augum remembered him.