Burden's Edge (Fury of a Rising Dragon Book 1)

by Sever Bronny

  Augum repeatedly ran his hands through his hair as he thought the matter over.

  Steward Haroun leaned forward on his desk. “You have a fraction of the servants and footmen needed for a place of this size and prestige. You have but one guard in the castle—a lieutenant, no less, who should be with his captain—and the rest can barely hold a rapidly growing village in check. No one in your service wears castle livery because none can be afforded. Instead, they wear the black-and-white servant garb of a lower class. You overpay your forester, scribe, blacksmith, stonemason and pretty much everyone in your employ … including me. Unnameables help me, Bridget and Leera should at least have ladies-in-waiting as royal custom demands—” Mr. Haroun stopped and gentled his voice. “You are tired and have had a difficult day. Let us adjourn the matter for now.”

  Augum nodded gratefully and lowered the floating chair to the floor. He almost snorted when picturing the revolted looks on Bridget’s and Leera’s faces if they heard Haroun insisting they should have ladies-in-waiting.

  “All right,” he said, rubbing his tired eyes. “All right. Do what you feel is right with the nobles and merchants, but leave the commoners alone.”

  Mr. Haroun nodded. “Good, that’s a start, but the matter is far from settled. You will need to make more difficult decisions in the month to come.”

  Augum got up, stretched, thanked Steward Haroun and headed out of the room. He had missed way too many classes of late, hadn’t been able to catch up on his homework, and now he had missed another evening of practicing 8th degree spells with Jez. Though, knowing Jez, she probably wouldn’t want to see his face after he had stormed out on her. He should probably go down to the Training Cavern to apologize, but instead, he found himself trooping upstairs to his room—only for Charles Poorman to stop him. He was huffing, his face red from exertion, eyes wild.

  “Your Highness, the doors—”

  Augum’s instincts, sharpened from war, bolted him into action; he was skipping steps in his haste to get downstairs before Charles had even finished speaking. “Find Jez and the girls—!” he called as he descended.

  Moments later, he careened through one of the inner vestibule doors so hard it swung closed again after hitting the wall. Inside the vestibule, Lieutenant Cobb manned the doors. He had a tight hold on the iron crossbar and was placing his entire weight on it.

  “Someone’s trying to telekinetically lift it from the other side,” Cobb whispered.

  “Get ready to let them,” Augum said, feeling bold. “Then stand back.” He wanted to confront whoever was trying to get in and was confident in his abilities to defeat them.

  Cobb nodded. “I’d love to deliver a good thrashing to anyone who’d dare break into the castle, Your Highness. I could use a good scrap. Been too quiet around here.”

  “So could I.” He welcomed the quick rush of blood that came with battle, for it erased all the dullness of signing receipts and ledgers.

  Augum flared seven lightning rings around his right arm. Then he semiconsciously flexed his left arm, mentally crafting a 2nd degree non-verbal spell known as Shield. A large crusted shield made entirely of black lightning crunched to life around his left forearm, so tightly curled that it resembled rope made of dirty ice. It was about a third of the weight of an Ordinary shield, thus allowing quicker reactions to strikes.

  “Summano arma,” he spat, marshaling his thoughts precisely along each syllable while yanking at an invisible sheath on his hip and summoning forth a long sword made entirely of crackling lightning. The sword was half the weight of a steel blade, but many times more potent, for it strengthened with every degree.

  The drain on his arcane stamina from the two spells was predictable and instant and felt like a cold wave washing over his soul.

  “Ready? Now!”

  Cobb jumped aside and the large crossbar lifted from its brackets and clattered to the ground. The doors were so thick the enemy had likely not heard them speaking, but may have heard the crossbar fall. Augum gestured for Cobb, who had drawn his battle axe, to get back.

  Augum positioned himself to the side of the door. A candle fluttered by his head; he extinguished it with a puff. Cobb took his lead and extinguished the remaining candles, leaving the vestibule dark with only two iron sconces to light it. Augum wondered if he should send Cobb away for his own safety—after all, he wasn’t a warlock—but it was already too late, for the iron handle clicked and slowly turned. The heavy oak door swung inward with a loud creak. Fat snowflakes blew into the vestibule and melted as soon as they hit the checkered marble floor. A heavy silence followed, broken only by the light winter wind.

  Augum’s muscles tensed as he made brief eye contact with Cobb, who was opposite him and partially hidden behind the door. Augum readied to spring. No one would get past him, that much he swore to himself.

  Suddenly a shadowy figure rolled in through the opening before springing to its feet, as if it had anticipated the sword blow that would have come otherwise. Just as Augum adjusted his stance to combat the intruder, a second ball rolled in and jumped to its feet. And then a third. All three figures were small and clad in tightly-woven black and gray cloth, heads obscured. Only the eyes were visible. They wore tiny gray shields and wielded curved daggers fastened to their hands with leather cords.

  Augum, noting the position of the attackers, made a battle calculation and allowed his sword to disappear while shooting his right arm out and gripping the air. In that instant, he connected his raw telekinetic strength with the closest attacker’s head. Then he violently swung his arm as if delivering a vicious slap. The attacker, caught unaware, smashed into the wall, head smacking against the stone with a sickening crunch. One of the other attackers cried out, “Riga!”

  “Summano arma!” Augum spat, re-summoning his lightning sword.

  The attacker closest to Cobb thrust his dagger. Cobb clumsily parried with his axe, but while the attacker’s blade met the steel shaft of the axe their other hand plunged into Cobb’s stomach. Cobb’s face lit up with shock and pain, for a hidden second dagger had penetrated his armor.

  But Augum had no time to aid Cobb as the third attacker was upon him, jabbing fiercely, the curved blade a blur. Augum blocked; there was a rapid double thunk as the blade bit into the hard lightning shield. A crackling hiss followed as Augum parried a third jab with his sword. But the attacker’s speed told him he had to change tactics. As the attacker’s fourth jab came at him, Augum made a strategic gamble, allowing his shield and sword to disappear, and violently shoved at the air with both arms, shouting, “Baka!” The 2nd degree Push spell would have sent an Ordinary flying into the wall, but the attacker rolled aside with catlike quickness.

  Meanwhile, the axe fell from Cobb’s hands as he slid to the floor, holding his stomach, blood gushing through the spaces of his fingers.

  Augum quickly drew the outline of one of the legs of Cobb’s attacker. “Paralizo carcusa cemente!”

  Cobb’s attacker reflexively did a backflip, only to stumble and crash to the floor, right leg now stiff as a board for Augum had paralyzed it.

  The remaining attacker swept a leg out. Augum jumped over it, only to see it was a trap. The attacker shoved at the air, shouting, “Baka!”

  Augum flew backward and slammed into the vestibule doors. “Oof!” But he was no novice and anticipated a follow-up attack. As he landed on the ground in an awkward crouching position, the semi-paralyzed attacker placed a blowpipe to their mouth. There was a sharp thwoot sound as a dart shot out at Augum. But Augum’s arcanely-sharpened instincts kicked in. He instantly focused his telekinetic might and flicked his finger in a half-circle, bending the trajectory of the dart back on itself. The dart completed a U-turn and thunked into the attacker’s chest, an accomplishment that under any circumstance would be labeled a feat of legend, for having the reflexes and telekinetic precision to bend the path of a projectile was a rare thing indeed.

  “Ugh,” came a distinctly feminine sound as the semi-p
aralyzed attacker fell back, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Nia!” Augum’s attacker screamed, gripping his head. “Nia, Nia, Nia—!” It was the kind of shriek a man only made upon seeing his beloved die in front of him. It was such an unexpected thing to witness that Augum hesitated.

  For a brief moment in time, the vestibule was still and silent. Three bodies lay on the ground in various states of injury and two enemies faced each other.

  The attacker glanced to Augum with distinctive russet-colored eyes sprinkled with flecks of gold, eyes that were wide with shock and rage. Then the assassin barbarically roared and charged. But Augum, who was as adept at one-on-one arcane combat as he was with sleeping, exploited the delay by slamming his wrists together while forming his thoughts into a complex mosaic that would trigger one of the most powerful spells in his arsenal: the First Offensive.

  “Annihilo!” The word matched precisely with the practiced visuals. He felt the cold pull of a larger strain on his arcane stamina as the energy focused through him like a lens and expelled from his outwardly splayed hands in the form of a thick bolt of lightning. The attacker barely had enough time to raise his small shield. The blast would have vaporized a normal shield and the arm holding it, but it instead violently slammed the shield back into the attacker’s chest. There was a crack as the man’s arm broke under the impact.

  The attacker yelped and was hurled into the open door. The door clunked against the wall as he awkwardly landed on his feet.

  Augum wasted no time following up with a strong yanking gesture, but to his great surprise, the attacker sliced the air with his hand, a gesture that somehow nullified his telekinetic attack. He then rolled again—right out the open door, grunting in pain from his broken arm.

  Seeing that Cobb’s attacker was incapacitated and gasping on the floor, Augum ran after the fleeing one. But by the time he got outside, the attacker had sprinted halfway to the forest. The small man was so quick Augum knew there would be no catching him, so he yanked at the air again. Once more, the attacker sensed the attack and spun around, slashing at the air while still running backward. Sure enough, Augum’s powerful telekinetic attack, which would have dragged the man back to him by the leg, was interrupted. The attacker jumped over the ruins of the ancient castle wall and crashed into the snowy Ravenwood on the other side. Then there was a thwomp—he had gotten away.

  Augum cursed under his breath, performing a quick battle analysis of his actions as he ran back to the castle. He hadn’t had time to cast the complicated Summon Minor Wall, a 7th degree elemental spell that would have perhaps blocked the man’s escape. What he should have done was cast the ancient off-the-books spell Centarro, the most powerful non-offensive spell in his arsenal, just before the assassins entered. The trio kept the spell secret for strategic purposes, and it would have allowed him to hyper-focus while tapping into his creativity. But it would have been a huge gamble without Bridget and Leera present, for when the spell expired, it caused immense stupidity in its caster as a side effect, meaning the caster relied on the fight ending before the spell timed out.

  Reaching the castle, he telekinetically slammed the door shut behind him before attending to Cobb. His breathing was shallow, his face pale and lips blue. The female attacker was at his feet, gasping from what had to be a poison dart, while the first attacker lay in a still heap, limbs awkwardly twisted underneath him, a pool of blood around his head.

  Augum touched his throat. “Amplifico,” he said, precisely resolving the requisite thought patterns with the last syllable while channeling the appropriate amount of arcane stamina. “Jez! Bridge! Lee! Charles!” he boomed, voice arcanely amplified by the 5th degree spell. Yet if the girls were in the Training Cavern deep under the castle, there was no chance they could hear him.

  Augum pressed his hands over the wound on Cobb’s stomach. The wound seemed small; Jengo, the castle physician and arcane healer, should be able to heal it. Someone needed to fetch him from the village right quick.

  One of the vestibule doors opened and in stepped Charles. His face went slack upon taking in the scene.

  “Jez and the girls are in the Training Cavern!” Augum snapped.

  “I searched there—”

  “Look again! Hurry!” Then he changed his mind. “Wait, we need to get Jengo first!”

  But Charles had already run off. Shoot. Augum knew Charles was unfamiliar with the ancient cavern. Jez and the girls were likely off in some cave, or grove, or practicing in a tree home. It would be extremely difficult for an Ordinary to find them.

  “Stay with me, Lieutenant,” Augum pleaded, wondering if he should risk taking the pressure off and sprint for Jengo. He was afraid to leave Cobb, though. He didn’t understand how such a small wound could have such a powerful effect.

  Cobb’s lips moved. Augum leaned closer.

  “Sam … uel …”

  “You’ll see Samuel again, don’t you worry, Lieutenant—”

  The man’s gasps slowed … and stopped. He gave a final shudder before his hands went slack and his head tilted, eyes sightless.

  “Cobb, your wife and son are waiting for you. Don’t you leave them now! Cobb! Cobb—!”

  But the man did not respond. As Jez and the girls finally burst in through the vestibule doors, the attacker gasped her last breath, joining Cobb in the eternal great beyond.

  Three Cots

  Augum sat with heavy shoulders in a windowless room, staring at the body of Lieutenant Cobb. The room was lined with cots, three of which were occupied by the bodies of Cobb and the attackers. Summertime mosquito netting hung in a large knot above each cot. Thick tallow candles sputtered on battered nightstands. The place stank of blood and sweat and metal and death. Everyone of import to the castle had been summoned and quietly discussed what had occurred. Bridget and Leera stood near a wall, the former with crossed arms, fingers tapping her elbows, the latter with hands in the pockets of her robe, biting her lip in thought.

  “It’s poison, all right,” Castle Physician Jengo Okeke said after careful examination of Cobb’s wound. Jengo was the tallest person in the village and, being Sierran-born, his skin was nearly as black as night. He had short, curly black hair pressed tight to his scalp. He used to suffer bouts of panic, but fighting in the war and attending the academy to become a healer had changed him, making him more stable and confident in his abilities.

  “The distinctive hue of the blood here indicates a nettle, most likely Black Nettle, a cousin to Malignant Nettle which results in days of agony. In this case, death came extraordinarily quick, hence I believe the poison to be the former. He would have likely survived the wound otherwise, or at least long enough for me to treat him. There is a rare and rather expensive antidote to the poison that I could acquire, given the funds. I believe it’s called Alera Serum.”

  “I will find you the funds, even if we have to take them out of my own wages,” Steward Haroun said.

  “I am sure that will not be necessary, Steward Haroun,” Bridget said when Augum did not chime in, for he was too numb from Cobb’s death.

  Jengo brought his hands together under his chin. “Black Nettle is a poison used only by … assassins.”

  The girls exchanged looks.

  Steward Haroun examined the cloth that Jengo had unwound from the assassin’s face. She was in her thirties, olive-skinned and her hair had been roughly cut.

  “Charles, would you please run this to the cloth merchant? Maybe he can identify where it came from.”

  “As you wish, Steward.” Charles pinched the cloth between two fingers as if it could kill him, but then froze. “Is it … is it safe out there?”

  “I searched the grounds and laid down some precautionary enchantments that should protect us for now,” Jez said, standing near the girls. “If they’re breached, I’ll know about it. But I do not think you are a target, Charles. Most likely, these assassins came for the trio.”

  Charles glanced to the bodies of the assassins. “Forgive me,
Ms. Terse, but I do not feel reassured.”

  “Take one of the guards, if you like,” Captain Briggs said in a distant voice. As Captain of the Watch, he would oversee the investigation into the attack. He had flaming red hair trimmed to the scalp and was known for his pragmatism and level head. He lived in town with his wife and daughter and had been good friends with Cobb. The pair had defected from the Legion to join the Resistance during the war.

  Augum had asked him to post two guards on the doors and one in the watch tower, which had sat empty since the war. But without warlock guards—which they could not afford—the posting was more symbolic than anything.

  Augum rested his face in his hands. Perhaps the assassins had been sent because he had repudiated the nobles. Or perhaps it had to do with the scions. Or maybe it was because he had stood against Disciple Gritchards. Regardless the reason, he had told Lieutenant Cobb to open the door without waiting for reinforcements.

  “Captain Briggs,” Augum said through his hands, willing himself to keep it together.

  “Your Highness.”

  “I want you to question Gritchards given all the information I have told you.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. Come, Charles, let us walk together. Your Highnesses.” After bowing, Captain Briggs exited the room with Charles at his heels.

  Bridget strode over to a small table that held the only other clues to the identity of the assassins: two small shields; four curved daggers, one bloody; two blow tubes; and a total of six darts, one of which Jengo had removed from the assassin’s body.

  “Three assassins,” Leera said, eyes flicking between Augum and Bridget. “With three darts each.”