by Sever Bronny
“Acceptable, Aspirant. Why do you wish to become an Arcaner?”
This was an easy question for Augum to answer, as he had thought long and hard about it. “So that I may walk a path I understand, with rules I can follow. So that I can defend the weak. So that I can benefit the kingdom. So that I can defend my friends. So that I can bring honor back to the arcane craft … honor my father stole from it.”
“Is that all?”
Augum thought Trintus was being sarcastic, but then realized he expected more. Augum thought carefully before replying. “I also want to discover if it’s possible to bring back dragons, Sir.”
“And what makes you think becoming an Arcaner will help you in that regard?”
“It’s on the shield for a reason.” Augum touched his heart. “It’s on my golden Dreadnought breastplate for a reason. The stories, the clues … they can’t be for naught.” He lowered his head. “Nobody has reached the rank of dragon in over nine hundred years. I believe back then that rank meant dragons could be summoned to aid in battle. It’s in the stories and legends about Arcaners. It’s on the walls and hidden in the tapestries. I’ve been paying attention, and I refuse to believe I’m wrong.”
Trintus watched him expectantly.
Augum sighed. “The truth is, my kingdom is in trouble. I sense that war is coming. People expect me and my friends to defend them with scions … but scions no longer exist. The three of us are strong warlocks, but there’s only so much we can do. And we certainly can’t fight a huge army. Maybe the three of us could take down someone powerful in a duel. Maybe. We did it once, but only with the help of a scion and the help of our friends.” He shook his head. “We no longer have a scion. We no longer have … anything, really.” Except the carcass of a castle unable to defend itself arcanely like it once could. It was nothing more than a series of rooms, an eternally locked armory … and a tomb, the final resting place of his ancestors.
“Despair is a weakness, Aspirant.”
Augum acknowledged the point with a single nod. “It is. But I … I can’t help it. I …” He placed a hand on his chest. “I feel it in here.”
“Emotions are like the weather. They come and go.”
“The Leyans spoke that way …” Augum whispered. “No one believes in the Leyans anymore. Nor do they believe in Arcaners, or dragons or …” Or me, he wanted to say.
“What is my rank?”
“Uh … why, dragon, of course, Sir.”
“It is not. My rank is dragoon.”
“That can’t be. I thought you were the last one to achieve dragon rank—”
“You presumed.”
“I … I did.” A distinct chill ran through Augum’s body. “Sir, if you did not attain the rank of dragon, then surely it would be nearly impossible for me to do so …”
“Would it now?”
Augum furrowed his brow in concentration. Trintus Bladeofbright was telling him something, but what? Or was he just reading into his words?
And then it hit him. “Sir, you’re saying it is possible to attain the rank of dragon, but it’s very difficult, and for whatever reason, it hasn’t happened in a far longer stretch of time than anyone supposed …” His voice fell to an awed whisper. “That explains why dragons have become children’s stories. They haven’t been around for thousands of years, way too long a time for anyone to even remotely consider them as having existed at all …”
Trintus said nothing and merely watched him.
Augum’s mind raced with the implications. Gods, what if Trintus was saying that the age of dragons occurred well before the academy had been built? Perhaps even going back into ancient times, the era of Dreadnoughts and Rivicans and Attyla the Mighty. Into the era of myth and legend …
“You may be worthy of this path, Aspirant. You have the foundational battlefield instincts required, although you lack nuance and the actual Arcaner craft of war, which we can teach you.” After a brief silence, Trintus said, “You have passed your first trial. Now you shall return to the blizzard.”
“Wait, I have questions—”
But Trintus pointed at Augum’s feet with one hand while drawing a circle with the other. A portal opened beneath him, and he plummeted through it. A moment later, amidst a dark and fierce blizzard, Augum landed in the thick snow of the academy courtyard.
Scream
Augum dug himself out from the snow and walked off in what he hoped was the direction of the Lecture Wing, figuring he could fetch their satchels from the Arcaner room and meet the girls somewhere along his way back to the courtyard. As he fought the icy winds, he wondered what about this first Arcaner test he was supposed to apply to tomorrow’s duel. Some piece of wisdom surely had to apply, for he had learned no arcanery whatsoever, nor had he learned any new tricks. But he did learn some precious knowledge to do with dragons, knowledge which was thrilling but intimidating.
There was a thwomp to his right, followed by a scream and the sound of someone hitting the snow. Augum sprinted in that direction and came upon a sight that shriveled his insides.
Leera was on her back, face ashen and streaked with blood. Augum had a flashback to the war and almost retched.
Leera coughed, splattering blood onto her face. Then she gurgled, “Aug … I … failed …”
For the briefest moment, Augum gaped in horror. Then he shook his hesitation off and picked her up. “I’m getting you to the Healing Ward,” he said, and tore off, blinded by the blizzard.
“Where’s … Bridge?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Shh, my love. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Yet the panic in his voice betrayed him. Not only was Leera hurt, but she had also failed the Arcaner test. He forced away the realization he might be in this alone.
“Baby … I’m hurt bad,” she whispered. Her hands barely held on to his neck.
“You’re okay, don’t worry. I’ll get you to healing. Just as soon as I find the portal—”
Leera moaned weakly. Augum glanced down and saw that her eyes had rolled back. Her hands slid off his neck and blood dribbled out of her mouth.
“Love? Love, wake up.” He gently shook her. “Wake up, love!” Gods, no. No, no, no! This was all his fault. He had pushed the girls to become Arcaners with him. No, no, no … and where was Bridget? Gods be merciful … please let her be all right!
At last, he found the right portal and stepped through onto the shimmering opalescent floor of the Elements Wing—and practically ran into someone.
“Arcanist Flagon!” Augum blurted, ignoring the nose full of body odor that would have ordinarily bowled him over. “Please, I need help—”
Flagon took in Leera’s appearance and paled. “Give her to me. I’ve got emergency Teleport privileges to the Healing Hall.”
Augum did not hesitate in handing her over, knowing how precious every moment was.
The words shot out of Flagon’s mouth. “Impetus peragro grapa lestato exa exaei!” He and Leera vanished with a thwomp.
Despite knowing Leera would be in capable hands at the Healing Ward, he almost ran after her. But there was nothing more he could do to help her. What he did need to do was search for Bridget, and so he stepped back through the enormous portal. The sheer coldness of the other side shocked him. The blizzard was strengthening, reducing visibility to a few feet.
He raised his hood, amplified his voice, and ran through the deep snow, face tucked behind his elbow, shouting, “Bridget!” Even so, it felt like the blizzard swallowed up the sound. He feared he would not hear her teleport in. “Bridget—!”
“Who is that yelling their damn head off?” someone said. Four figures emerged from the heavy wind and snow—Eric, Brandon, Katrina and Cry, all with their hoods up, satchels swinging in the fierce gale.
“Help me find Bridget—!” Augum roared.
Katrina recoiled. “What are you talking about? And stop shouting, you fool!”
Augum made a quick slicing gesture at his throat, killing the Amp
lify spell. “She’s lost somewhere in the courtyard and could be hurt.”
The four of them exchanged looks.
“Is this your idea of a prank, Stone?” Eric asked coldly.
“No, it’s not a prank! It’s very real. We took the first Arcaner trial. I passed, but …” He swallowed, unable to admit Leera had failed. “Please, I really need your help.”
While Brandon grabbed his head in shock, Katrina’s eyes widened. “You … you took an Arcaner trial? And you passed?”
“Yes, yes, but right now I need your help!”
“He’s got blood on him,” Cry said, pointing at Augum’s robe.
“It’s … it’s Leera’s. She’s in the Healing Ward. Bridget might have already teleported back, but it’s hard to hear through this wind. I have to find her.”
“Oh, Augum, what have you done!” Brandon cried in a voice laced with panic. “What have you done—!”
“Understood,” Eric said. “We’ll spread out and look for her.”
“Thank you. We have to hurry.”
Brandon flashed him one last horrified and hostile look before they spread out on the vast courtyard. Soon, amplified calls of “Bridget!” rang out.
Time passed. Augum got colder and colder as his voice hoarsened. The blizzard grew stronger, repeatedly shoving him into waves of thick snowdrift. It felt like he was trying to navigate a frozen ocean.
“Bridget … where … are … you?” he asked, shivering.
The blizzard had dimmed the courtyard to what felt like evening. At last, Augum saw a shape ahead. “Bridget!” He plowed through the snow, only to discover it was Anna Atticus Stone’s statue. He leaned against it, taking shelter from the heavy gale while he regained his breath.
Another figure soon appeared from the blizzard.
“Bridge, that you?”
“No, it’s me.” Katrina’s long hair whipped around the edges of her hood. She stared at him.
“Let’s keep looking—”
“I’ve found what I was looking for.”
“What are you doing?” he shouted. “Help me find Bridget!”
Katrina’s voice was firm and sliced clean through the blizzard. “I thought we would duel tomorrow. But this was in my dreams, Augum. This moment, lost in this blizzard. Now. You and I—”
“Are you mad—!” he roared.
“You don’t understand. If I duel you tomorrow, I die. I dreamt it. You kill me.”
“I don’t give one damn what happens tomorrow. Can’t you see what’s happening now?” The blood ran scorching hot through his veins, warming his core.
“Do you know who I am?” Katrina flared seven rings of air that could barely be seen in the blizzard.
“I know and I don’t care!”
“I’m a Von Edgeworth, Augum, and I dreamt this moment. I dreamt I would face you in a blizzard when you became an Arcaner squire. Do not fear expulsion for an unsanctioned duel. They will understand. They will know. You will accept! It was in my dream! If you refuse, I’ll have to duel you tomorrow, and then I’ll die and history will vanquish the Von Edgeworth line! This is the only way the outcome is unknown. Either of us could die, but it will be fair and just. The Fates have brought us together. It is providence, Augum. Providence.”
“We don’t have to duel at all!” he shouted through the roar of the wind. “Neither of us has to die—”
“Oh, but we do, you stupid fool. It’s in your code.”
“ ‘Thou shall never turn thy back on a foe,’ ” Augum murmured. Gods, she was right.
“My dreams have always come true, Augum. Always. Make your choice and make it now. Turn your back on the code and face murdering me tomorrow … or face me as an honorable Arcaner squire.”
Augum stood stupidly in disbelief.
“Very well, then I will force you to decide.” Katrina stepped forward. “Today, we duel in the old way. Not as servants of others, but as free warlocks. Let us bow so I may avenge the wound to the Von Edgeworth honor. Augum Arinthian Stone, I call on thee to show thy stripes and duel me in the old way! Thou canst refuse an honorable challenge! Duel me!”
“I know those words,” Augum said, heart racing. “They are the very same words your father spoke to my great-grandmother before they dueled—”
“The same words uttered before that arrogant woman murdered my father. And the same words uttered before she murdered my grandfather. They are the words of the old way. And you shan’t refuse them, for I dreamt this moment and it has become real.” Her rings brightened and she bowed, consecrating the tradition.
Still, Augum hesitated.
“An Arcaner—even a squire—never refuses a challenge from an equal!” Katrina shouted, her voice a desperate shriek. Snow stuck to the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Either you turn your back on your precious code … or we duel to the death here and now. Make your choice, Arinthian.”
Augum knew her words to be true. If he turned his back, his dream of becoming an Arcaner would die. Or he could face her at the risk of not finding Bridget in time to help her …
He pictured what Bridget would want, and the answer made itself clear to him.
“Very well, Von Edgeworth. I accept thy challenge.” Augum flared seven rings of lightning round his arm and bowed ceremoniously, trusting the others would find Bridget safe. “Guard thyself!”
Katrina slammed her wrists together so violently that her hood flopped off her head, and she shouted, “Annihilo!” Augum summoned his shield as a viciously sharp whirling blast of air smashed into it, grinding at the crystallized lightning with a whirr.
“Flustrato!” Augum spat, snapping and twirling his wrist at her head.
She gasped from his well-practiced Confusion attack. She fought it off with a jerk of her head, as he had expected her to. All things being equal, the goal was to drain each other’s arcane stamina to a dangerous enough level that they would need to make life-threatening choices, when one had to choose between defending the mind or the body.
Augum pressed his attack, writing an S in the air, a gesture the academy taught him that further increased the potency of the spell. “Effectus xadius!” He judged, by the wincing groan, that his strong Slow spell had affected Katrina enough to give him a split-moment’s advantage from then on.
Katrina countered with an 8th degree spell that would have put him to sleep. “Senna dormo coma torpos!” Unfortunately for her, Augum had practiced defending against this spell with Mrs. Stone, who had varied the strength of her attack up to the 10th degree. His Mind Armor blocked it with ease as he slammed his wrists together and roared, “Annihilo!” He could have gone with his less practiced, but more powerful Second Offensive, but it would have drained his stamina quicker.
Katrina summoned a shield made of a dense, miniature hurricane, and his lightning blast was actually spun aside and shot into the sky.
“Summano arma!” Katrina countered, and a bow and arrow made of densely vibrating air appeared in her hands. She drew the bowstring back and loosed an arrow. Augum sidestepped the arrow, hearing it whistle by, and yanked as he shouted, “Disablo!” His Disarm spell, with its foundation in Telekinesis, snatched the bow from her hands. It disappeared with a whoosh. Katrina, momentarily stunned, gave him enough time to press a follow-up attack.
“Annihilo!” he shouted again, slamming his wrists together.
Katrina motioned to raise her shield, but Augum’s Slow spell had affected her enough for his strike to blow by. A crack of lightning tore through the air and smashed into Katrina’s chest, buckling her. She moaned, but clambered to her feet unsteadily, one hand over her upper chest. Blood spurted between her fingers, her amber robe singed around the area.
“It’s over, you lost,” Augum said. “Bend the knee.” And hurry before you bleed to death, you fool!
A figure staggered into view behind her.
“Gods, Bridget—”
Bridget blundered past Katrina. Her straight brows were lines of ice and there was
a distant look in her eyes as if she didn’t know where she was. Augum was about to run to her when Katrina shot forth, drawing a knife and pressing it to Bridget’s throat. Bridget’s gaze wandered, unaware.
“What are you doing?” Augum spat. “Are you crazy? Let her go and bend the knee!”
Katrina gasped from the pain. “This was in my nightmare. May the Unnameables forgive me.” Her tone made the hairs on the back of Augum’s neck rise. He reached out, screaming, “NO—!” but it was too late. A red line had been drawn across Bridget’s throat.
Katrina allowed Bridget’s body to slip from her grasp to the snow. “There. It is done. Gods help me, it is done. So be it.”
Augum could not breathe or think or move, his hand still outstretched and shaking violently. Bridget lay at Katrina’s feet, cinnamon hair splayed in the snow, eyes sightless, blood pooling around her. She hadn’t even struggled. She had just … let it happen. He had just let it happen.
Augum stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside her body, not caring that he was vulnerable to an attack should Katrina strike. “Bridget,” he said, as if saying her name aloud could somehow bring her back to life. “Bridget …”
But she did not stir. Her face was pale yet serene. After everything they had been through, Bridget Burns was gone. All her hopes, her dreams, her passions … gone. Like a feather blown away in the harsh winds of winter.
He placed a hand to his aching heart, mumbling, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m …” He couldn’t even finish saying it. Sorry wouldn’t bring her back. Sorry was a word. Sorry was nothing. He had failed her like he had failed Cobb.
He reached out and closed her eyes.
Katrina, gasping with a bloody hand over her chest wound, took a knee beside him. “I take a knee and surrender to thee. Now get me some help, you gutterborn bastard.”
Murder.
Murder was what scrolled through Augum’s mind. Cold murder and the awesome fury of revenge. His blood rushed through his veins like a river of lava as the word hammered through his brain.