by Sever Bronny
She closed her eyes and turned to the sun, soaking in its warmth, hands behind her back. “Difficult questions, ones perhaps best answered if we continue the story about your father.”
“My father …” He still could not believe the Lord of the Legion was his father—his father!
“At fourteen years of age, Lividius began his first year at the academy and officially became my apprentice. I took a closer hand in the boy’s upbringing, thinking a strong arcane focus was just what he needed.
“But Lividius hadn’t changed. Instead, he learned to use charm to manipulate people. Dark rumors soon reached my ears, none of which I could prove, for he became secretive. He began to seethe with quiet jealousy. My famous pursuits and duels in the arcane community were intolerable for him. Further, his schoolmates held him to a higher standard simply because I, his guardian and mentor, was also headmistress. I only made matters worse by focusing my attentions on the problem of a young necromancer by the name of Narsus. Looking back, I think that was when it began.”
Augum blinked. “What began?”
“Do you recall the horse your father sat on?”
“Yes, it was sort of … dead.”
She raised her index finger. “Or rather undead. I believe your father is, and has been for some time, learning necromancy in addition to the lightning element.”
“But … why?”
“A deeply rooted fascination with fear, death and power. I suspect that with his talent in the lightning element, he endeavored to surpass the most powerful necromancer known—Occulus. But I knew nothing of his exploits then—I still hoped for a change in his heart. At twenty-one years of age and in his seventh year at the academy, I thought that change had finally come in the form of a young lady.”
“My mother …”
“Yes.” Mrs. Stone gestured ahead. “Walk with me.”
They began pacing around the yard, slowly circling the fountain. The sun shone brightly overhead, though the air remained sharply cold. Two small winter birds started a chortling conversation in the forest.
“Your mother was the opposite of your father in many ways—she was giving, trusting, caring and emotional, with a radiant smile she would eventually pass on to her only child.”
Augum unconsciously touched his cheek.
“Somehow, she reached your father’s soul. For the first time in what felt like years, I remember seeing him laugh without malice. She was a joy to be around and single-handedly restored my hopes in him.”
“What was her name?”
“Terra Titan, of the Titans of Sierra, growers of Titan grape and makers of Titan wine.”
Those grapes came from his mother’s family? He could almost taste that sweet and sour flavor on his tongue.
“The Titan clan was a fierce tribe of lightning warlocks, whose blood flowed rich with talent. It was that talent, her beauty and vibrancy that drew Lividius like a moth to flame. One year later, in his eighth and what would be his last year at the academy, they married.”
“Did she know about his necromancy?”
“I shall get to that. After they married, Lividius renewed quarreling with me about the scion, using the wedding as leverage. By then, Terra began to see her husband in a new light and spent many a night crying on my shoulder. This infuriated Lividius. At last, perhaps finally understanding he would not receive the scion from me, he cut me out of his life and disappeared with her. For nineteen years, I heard nothing other than rumors of his travels in distant lands, performing strange rituals. Think of that—nineteen years. What darkness had he been up to during all that time? What had poor Terra witnessed? One thing is certain, and that is that he continued his studies in necromancy, also achieving his 20th degree in the lightning element, a most difficult and rare feat.”
“What did you do all that time, Mrs. Stone?”
“I tried to move on with my life. I occupied myself with the Narsinian war, took on new apprentices, managed the academy, and continued my own studies, striving for the most difficult and elusive goal in all of arcanery—mastery of my element. After defeating Narsus, I used the opportunity to retire from the world. I had no inclination to deal with the fame that I knew would come from my accomplishment. Besides, I was eighty-five years old, having spent thirty-five of those years as Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts. I was simply exhausted.
“I spent the following years exploring Sithesia’s more distant lands, finally achieving that life-long goal of mastery in the lightning element. I also built a cave into the side of Mt. Barrow, believing Solia would forever be my home. There I would spend most of my days, enjoying the crisp mountain air and quiet solitude. You are fourteen, therefore you were born soon after my withdrawal from the world, and since I still had not heard from Lividius, I knew nothing of you.”
Augum imagined the famous landmark overseeing Blackhaven, the capital of Solia. “He said I was born in the Black Castle …”
“Yes, during Lividius’ ascent to power. It was then, sometime after your birth, that I believe something terrible transpired.”
“What do you think it was?”
Mrs. Stone stopped to peer at him, half her face in shadow and half in the sun. “I believe your father tried to involve your mother in the necromantic arts. Or, after twenty years of putting up with his possessive nature, she had simply had enough. After all, she had a toddler—you—to think of by then.
“Regardless of the reason, she took you and ran away. Your father, whose following had greatly grown by then, had your mother tracked down. They found her alone. When your father demanded your return, she told him you died as she fled. As you know, I recently went to Antioc to procure provisions. On a hunch, I stopped at the ancient library there and checked the archives. It turns out the Penderson family owed the Titan clan a debt that had been marked as paid sometime after your birth. I suspect that in exchange for that debt, they were to raise you as one of their own.”
Augum scoffed. “One of their own …”
“Consider it a better fate than ending up by your father’s side.”
He sighed. “My father didn’t believe my mother when she told him I had died, did he?”
“He did not. In fact, your father immediately suspected me of taking you, perhaps thinking I wanted an heir to pass the scion to other than him. In that last regard, he was quite correct, only it was an idle dream for me, for of course I did not yet know there was a new heir. Further, he never truly believed I died fighting Narsus—he thought I was too strong. In that, he was also correct. Your father sought me out and found me on Mt. Barrow, the only one to do so.”
She continued pacing, the snow crunching underfoot. “Our meeting, however, was … unpleasant. He accused me of harboring you and once again demanded the scion. It was only then I discovered that he had a son and that I was a great-grandmother. So you see, I learned about you from him.”
“I was born because he wanted the scion, wasn’t I?”
“An astute observation, Augum, and one I agree with. Perhaps he thought I would bequeath it to him if he produced an heir. When he found out I did not have you in my possession, it nearly broke him. Only then did he truly think you were lost. The years that followed were supposedly his darkest. I, too, believed you gone forever, until eleven years later, when I found you on the mountain, clothes burnt to a crisp yet you yourself unharmed.”
He recalled flying over fields of yellow grass … a bright flash …
“Perhaps it was fate,” she continued, glancing skyward, “perhaps providence, or just sheer luck. In any case, there you were, safe and in my care.”
“But how did you know it was me?”
“By your uncanny resemblance to your parents, but you confirmed it when you spoke your name. The fact you survived the strike of raw lightning was additional proof. Remember who you descend from, Augum. You have the same ancient blood I do.”
He tried to think of the name of his ancestor. He knew it was someone important, but too
much new information stuffed his mind; besides, he had other questions he wanted answered first.
“Why didn’t you say anything right away? Why did I have to do those tests?”
She adjusted her long silver ponytail. “Knowledge can be dangerous, Augum. That is why, for your safety, I chose to withhold certain facts. As for the tests, I did not want you to study the lightning element just because it ran in your family, but rather that you had a passion for it—”
“—I do, Mrs. Stone, I really do—it’s what I want!”
“After seeing how hard you worked on that mountain, I know that now. However, I also did not tell you because I needed to know the content of your character. I could not mentor someone—”
“—unworthy,” he said slowly, remembering rescuing the injured little bird, a test his father had failed.
She said nothing as they walked, her finely embroidered robe glittering in the sun. The blood on it was dry and browning.
“So what happened to my mother? Where is she?” Just the idea of meeting her made his insides buzz.
Mrs. Stone stopped and sighed, turning her face to shadow. “I heard this from one of your father’s followers as he lay dying—when Lividius recaptured your mother, not only did she swear you had died, but she also dared to say she was leaving your father forever. He flew into a rage, and …” She trailed off.
Augum dropped his head and closed his eyes. Even though he did not know his mother, nor had any memory of her, it was difficult to hear.
Murderer …
In that moment, he truly hated his father.
“We must be free to make choices in life, Augum. Possessive attachment is a terrible thing. You would be wise to heed its lesson. Your mother knew your father’s heart. She understood it was only a matter of time until he tracked her down. That was why she put you up with the Pendersons. She saved your life, perhaps even knowing hers was forfeit.”
“So my father murdered my mother, and now he wants me just for the scion.”
“That appears to be the case.”
Augum was the one to resume walking this time. “Mrs. Stone, what did you mean when you said that I’ll need my friends later?”
She placed her arms behind her back as she walked. He had a momentary glimpse of the headmistress she once was.
“There will come a day when I am not around to protect you. That is when you will need your friends most. Care for them. Learn with them. Respect them. All the while, be on your guard, for your father will do anything to take possession of the scion simply because it is the family heirloom. Further, his feelings of betrayal know no bounds, for he believes I stole you and the scion from him.”
Augum shivered in a bitter wind and drew his burgundy robes closer. Mrs. Stone’s robe rippled but she seemed impervious to the cold. They strolled in silence for a little while.
“So now that my father and his Legion took power, what do we do?”
“It is imperative we keep you and the scion away from him. In the meantime, you need to train very hard at your craft. You must be able to defend yourself.”
“What will happen to Bridget and Leera?” He suddenly realized they will probably want to live with relatives. His heart dropped at the thought. Now that he knew friendship, he felt he could not bear to let it go.
“That is for them to decide.”
He did not want to push it, but he had to know. “Would you train them if they wanted to stay here with us?”
Mrs. Stone raised a silver brow. “We shall see,” and she smiled, a rare gift that almost made him want to call her Nana.
They walked for a short while longer around the yard, Augum noting the ruined outline of stone divisions. Perhaps, a long time ago, this used to be a garden, or even a training yard. Finally, they climbed over the pile of rubble and ventured inside, where he paused.
“Mrs. Stone—?”
She turned at the arched doors leading to the foyer. “Yes, child?”
“Do you think my father is the strongest the family has ever produced?”
She watched him a moment. “One of your father’s weaknesses is his great arrogance.”
“Do you think I will ever be stronger than him?”
She released a spirited laugh that came from deep within, something that sounded strange coming from her, almost as if she had not practiced it in years. “You will if you want to be, Augum. The real question is—will you need to be?”
And with that, she left him standing in the vestibule, a puzzled expression on his face.
Bridget and Leera’s Choice
When Augum and Mrs. Stone arrived back in the room, the girls were sitting quietly by the fire. Their eyes were red when they looked up. Augum tactfully averted his gaze.
“Come, it is time for breakfast,” Mrs. Stone said. “Augum, grab the provisions, then everyone follow me.”
She led them around the central staircase and down a hallway past a series of bedrooms, finally turning left through a pair of carved oaken doors. They entered a large rectangular room, in the center of which stood an enormous trestle dining table with over twenty high-backed chairs settled neatly underneath. A gilded throne chair sat on the far end carved with lion heads, a queen’s chair on the near end. On the right-hand wall was a long row of arched stained-glass windows depicting a great battle—one side illustrated a dark warlock leading powerful-looking armored lions standing on hind legs; the other portrayed a warlock champion surrounded by light and leading a bunch of armed peasants. A pair of massive gilt-accented marble fireplaces sat embedded into the left wall. Thankfully, wood remained in both. Mrs. Stone lit them with a flick of a finger, filling the room with the aroma of old cedar.
Augum strolled to the far end, hopping on the throne. The letter “A” was carved into the backrest. He swept some dust off the table, revealing intricate but shallow carvings.
“This is the grand dining room where the king and queen would have their meals.” Mrs. Stone took a seat in the queen’s chair, its arms and back carved with an evergreen forest. Bridget and Leera sat to her right and smiled weakly before dropping their eyes. Augum felt rather odd sitting so far away so decided to join them on their end, though he looked back at the throne longingly. When he turned to face the group, he noticed Mrs. Stone had been watching him.
“What do we have for breakfast, Augum?” she asked after he pulled up a chair to her left, across from Bridget and Leera.
He unceremoniously upended the rucksack onto the table. Stoppered jars of spices and roots rolled out, along with dry meat, limp carrots and stale journey bread. Their briefly quizzical expressions regarding the jars told him he probably should have thought his food selection through a little more.
“Now, as for plates and silverware—” Mrs. Stone pointed at each of their place settings, frowning in concentration. A full complement of simple but functional china and cutlery appeared in front of everyone, a sizzle sounding after each item popped into existence. Augum had never seen anything like it; did not even think it possible—arcane or not. He gawked at Mrs. Stone, mouth slack. Even Bridget and Leera forgot their sadness, staring at the objects with amazed looks.
“That spell,” Mrs. Stone said, reaching for the bread, “you will master with your 13th degree. The items are temporary of course. Oh for mercy’s sake, stop gaping and eat.” She tore the bread, passing pieces around.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, Augum raised his nose and daintily poured the waterskin for the girls. “There you are, my ladies,” he said in a snobbish tone.
The effort only drew half-hearted smiles, but even that did not last, as midway through the meal Bridget broke down and cried into her hands. Leera rubbed her back, sniffing. Mrs. Stone stopped eating and gave Bridget’s hand a pat.
Bridget suddenly stood up, fork clanging on her plate, hands twisting the folds of her emerald cloak. She looked a mess—long cinnamon hair in tangles, robe torn and bloody. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I would like to say …” she beg
an in a choking voice, “that we are grateful that you saved our lives, Mrs. Stone.” She gave Leera a sidelong glance.
Leera stood, smiling bitter-sweetly at her friend, freckles blurred by tears. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Stone.”
Mrs. Stone also stood, smoothing her robe. “Girls, please sit, if you will. I have something to say on the matter.”
Bridget and Leera exchanged glances before sitting down, sniffing. Augum stared into his lap, feeling for them, missing them already. He knew they would want to live with relatives, and after what happened, who could blame them?
The fire crackled and sputtered as Mrs. Stone spoke.
“Bridget, Leera—I am so very sorry that I could not save your families or your friends. I do not deserve your thanks; I can only beg your forgiveness. I failed. It was my grandson that murdered those people.” Her voice was distant, face ancient and frail as an autumn leaf.
Bridget shook her head. “Oh, no, Mrs. Stone, please—”
“—we were there, Mrs. Stone,” Leera said. “We know you did your best—”
“That may be so, but I trained and reared my grandson. I am at fault.”
Bridget shot up out of her chair. “No! We won’t let you take their deaths on your shoulders, Mrs. Stone. You saved our lives. You saved Augum. You saved Leland and his parents. I know that if you could have, you would have saved everyone.”
Leera also stood, cheeks wet, nodding along. Mrs. Stone scrutinized them both before sighing and sitting back down. “You three have witnessed an awful thing, a thing no one should witness. Later today we shall hold a memorial ceremony to honor the departed.”
She motioned for them to sit but the girls remained standing. Bridget gave Leera a hesitant look. “Mrs. Stone—”
“We beg you, Mrs. Stone—” Leera interjected, eyes full of fresh tears, “please don’t send us away—!”
Augum froze. What was going on? Did they mean they wanted to stay? His head whipped to Mrs. Stone, but her eyes were only for the girls. She furrowed her brow.