by Sever Bronny
“My loyalty …” Augum said sarcastically. He pointed a stern finger at Brandon’s face as if readying to shoot him between the eyes with a crossbow bolt. “You betrayed us. And …” He shook his head as he began walking backward to rejoin the girls. “And you betrayed her. As for becoming an Arcaner …” He angrily flexed his left arm, flaring his shield at the same time. “You should have been there with us.”
As Brandon gaped stupidly at the etched golden words, Augum turned his back on him, allowing his shield to disappear. He thought that would be the last of it, but Brandon made a rude sucking sound between his teeth before muttering a certain word that made Augum stop in his tracks and whip around.
“Did he just say what I think he said?” Leera whispered.
Brandon theatrically turned his back on them. “A pity. From best friends to mortal enemies … perfect. Juuuuust perfect.” He flipped a rude, dismissive gesture over his head. “See you around, Your Highnesses. Oh, wait, they stripped that title from you!” He snorted as he walked off, forcing laughter that did not hide the hurt, anger and betrayal vibrating in his voice.
Augum felt it too. It was unlike any other emotion he had experienced, a fluttering hollowness in the pit of his stomach, a tightening in his chest. He had grown up with bullies and knew how to handle them. He was used to fights and verbal assaults. But those assaults had always come from enemies. Not once had they come from someone he had trusted as a friend. Someone he had joked around with and shared stories with and opened his soul to. Someone who had somehow, at some point, lost their way …
In the Stillness of the Wind
How circumstances have changed, Augum thought as he trained alongside the girls. In Eric, an enemy, they had gained a secret ally, while in Brandon, a friend, they had gained a “mortal enemy,” to use Brandon’s words.
Augum suddenly took a hard slap of water to his back, shoving him perilously close to a snowy edge.
“Stone! What the hell are you doing?” Jez snapped, marching up to him on the floating rock island. “Where’s your head at? You daydreaming about making out with Leera again? You got a serious duel on your hands tomorrow, and thus far you’ve done nothing but give me a fraction of your concentration!” She snapped her fingers repeatedly around his head, singing, “Come back to us, Stone. Play time’s over. Play time’s oooooveeerrrrr …”
The trio was training with Jez in the castle training cavern, a gloriously large subterranean cavern enchanted with ancient arcanery. They had already eaten supper, showed off their shields, received grand praise for achieving Arcaner squire status, strategized, and discussed the day’s events. And then they had moved on to an intense and difficult session with Jez. She had been prodding their weaknesses by focusing on offensive and defensive measures. She worked the girls with the assumption that an assassin might attack them, and concentrated on dueling spells with Augum.
In the cavern there was an enchanted forest, floating rooms one had to teleport to, ancient ruins, and a slew of arcane obstacles with ancient etched graffiti. There were various element Trainers, including a great floating lightning sphere Trainer, a floating cloud Trainer for air warlocks, and floating rocky platforms like the one they were on. Some of those platforms had rope that hung down to the forest, while others had an iron pole that was a joy to slide down.
The Cavern also had weather. Right now, it was in the grips of a gentle snowfall, a quiet echo of the raging blizzard above ground that battered the castle and village. It was all ancient powerful arcanery beyond the scope of modern understanding, the enchantments long sunk to permanence.
“Sorry, Jez,” Augum murmured, squaring his shoulders as he readied for another round, trying to ignore his shivering bones.
“I want you to hit me with your Second Offensive this time. Stop weaseling out with only the first. And focus. I could have blasted you in two had I used standard strength.” They often tempered the power of their spells for training.
Augum rubbed his face. “Right.” He was tired and cold. They had been training for hours, and his brain had turned to slush.
Jez sighed. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. You look exhausted.” She opened her hands invitingly. “We’ve come up with a good plan. Think you can stick to it this time?”
“I will. I’ve learned my lesson not listening to you all, especially Bridge.”
Bridget smiled proudly.
“Excellent.” Jez expelled a long breath as she glanced between the trio. “All right, monkeys, I’d usually be off to find a seedy tavern, have a glass or three of red, and attempt to kidnap a willing and devilishly handsome lordling, but it seems an annoying teenager I know has a wee duel in the morning. What? Don’t give me that look, I have long stopped apologizing for being an unmarried mischief-maker, an example I forbid the lot of you for following as it’s a lonely and miserable existence. Consider yourselves lucky you still have your whole lives ahead to screw up.” She flashed a roguish grin. “I’ll catch you at breakfast.” She ruffled Augum’s and Bridget’s hair as she passed, though Leera dodged her hand at the last moment. Jez shook her fist at her playfully before stepping off the hundred-foot-high platform, quickly disappearing into the snowy trees below.
“She’s got to teach us that falling trick,” Leera muttered. She covered her hands with the sleeves of her robe, grabbed onto a nearby sleek iron pole, and slid down. Augum and Bridget soon joined her below.
They strolled through the ancient undergrowth in silence, emerging into the quiet of the round domed hall with the dragon chandelier. Augum stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked. In one pocket he had Jengo’s antidote, and in the other, one half of the assassin pendant. The other half surely hung around the neck of the woman’s lover. He wondered if that assassin was plotting revenge. Augum knew he would be had anything happened to Leera. After the attack, Jez had placed protections on the castle entrances and windows, but it was possible—albeit unlikely—that the assassin could break through them. Jez had instructed the trio to take arcane precautions before bed. She had studied the Whisper Blade assassins, though she hadn’t found much. In the olden days, the Whisper Blades used basic arcanery, combined with their own assassin craft, to hunt down and murder warlocks, hanging or burning them when caught, if not outright poisoning them. Worryingly, they were adept at a few anti-warlock spells exclusive to their guild.
The trio stepped into the cellar. Augum stopped before the gates to the crypt where his ancestors lay entombed. The crypt included the bones of Atrius Arinthian himself. He had intended to clean Atrius’s tomb tonight, a task he had sworn to perform alone every month until he was too old and feeble to carry it out.
The rows of ancient stone monoliths, tombs and sarcophagi stretched on into pitch darkness.
“You can clean it another day,” Leera said gently, taking his hand as she stepped beside him.
If I live, Augum wanted to say.
She tugged him along, and the girls led him upstairs. Along the way, servants bowed deeply, their faces drawn with concern.
They soon reached the Prince and Princess floor. Gilded hawks, lions and wolves supported the ceiling, guarding faded tapestries. Gilt wall pockets held ornate candelabras. Two potted spruce trees flanked a finely carved settee. The wind rattled two massive arched windows that depicted a Leyan meditating in an orange desert. He was a hairless man in a plain robe. Timeless. Ageless.
Charles quietly stepped out from Augum’s room and bowed. “The room hearths have been lit, my lord and ladies.”
“Thank you, Charles,” Augum replied.
Charles’s eyes traveled to his shoes. “My lord, my ladies, you … you will always be prince and princesses of this castle.”
The trio gave him a pained smile.
Charles bowed. “Good night, my lord. My ladies.”
“Good night, Charles,” Augum said as the girls inclined their heads. He watched the stubby servant totter off. The news that they had lost their royal titles had hit the
poor man hard.
An even stronger gust rattled both sets of terrace doors in their frames.
“Nasty out there,” Bridget noted, rubbing her shoulder.
“Sorry about that again,” Augum offered, referring to when he had struck her a little too hard with his First Offensive. Even though she’d had her elemental armor up, it seemed he hadn’t scaled back the strength of his attack enough to prevent bruising.
Bridget gave the thought a lazy wave before lightly brushing her lips with her thumb as she hooked one foot behind the other.
“Copper for your thoughts?” Leera said.
“I, uh, I thought I could change him.”
“And I thought I knew him better than that,” Augum said.
Leera shrugged. “Maybe Brandon’s always been like that. Maybe we just refused to see it.”
Augum and Bridget glanced at her.
“What? I can be wise too, you know.” Then she muttered, “Jerks.”
Bridget pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “It’s been … it’s been a tough few days.”
Augum nodded absently. It had indeed been a tough—tumultuous, even—few days.
“Get your butts to bed!” Jez yelled from within her nearby room, her voice muffled by the door.
“Yeah, yeah,” Leera called back. Then she played with her fingers.
“All right already, I get the hint,” Bridget said in melancholy tones. “Night, you two.” She turned to leave.
Leera reached out. “Bridge?”
“Mmm?”
“Sorry about Brandon.”
Bridget stared off at nothing. “Don’t forget to enchant your windows and terrace doors. Can never be too careful.” She forced a smile and left.
Augum and Leera watched as she entered her room and closed the door.
“It’s hit her hard,” Augum said.
“What did you expect? He betrayed her. He betrayed us.”
“That he did.”
“She’ll find someone better.”
“Hope so …” But would that future boyfriend be as close a friend as Brandon had been? It took him a moment to realize Leera was staring at him. “What?”
“We’re no longer prince and princess.”
“Yeah, so wha—” Then it hit him. “Oh.” He swallowed. It was the last thing he had been prepared for at that moment.
“Just something to ponder.” Leera gave him a mischievous smile before turning to depart, but he yanked her back by the hand. He drew her to him and kissed her tenderly, enjoying the sweaty after-training scent of her, the softness of the nape of her neck, the way her tousled raven hair felt as he ran his fingers through it.
“You two making out in the hallway again?” Jez shouted from behind her door.
“No!” they immediately chorused, jumping apart.
“Just because you’re not prince and princess anymore doesn’t mean I won’t hold you to your promise!” Then she switched to a commoner drawl. “None of that there teenage nastiness until marriage, ya hear?”
“Ugh, Jez, would you just … lay off!” Leera snapped.
“What are you, twelve? You’ll both behave like pious little angels of propriety. Do I make myself perfectly clear? And what did I say about not taking my example!”
“Night, Jez,” Leera said, rolling her eyes, adding in an undertone, “Hypocrite.”
“Night, kiddos. And good job on the squire thing.”
But before Jez even finished speaking, Leera grabbed Augum’s robe and drew him in for a passionate kiss. Her hand ran through his hair before she slowly let go. He grabbed her hand, but let it fall away as she backtracked, saying good night with her voluminous eyes.
Augum watched her saunter to her room, noting her poor posture, her disheveled hair, her wrinkled robe, and the way she flashed him a whimsical look before grabbing the door handle and giving it a belligerent twist. He did not know how much longer he could resist her, promise or no promise.
The arched windows shuddered with another gust as he strode to his room. He enchanted both terrace door handles and one window latch with the 3rd degree spell Object Alarm. As a practiced 7th degree warlock, he could now enchant up to three objects, each with a slightly different alarm that, when tripped, sounded a pitched bell in his head.
Afterward, he cast the 6th degree spell Seal on the terrace doors and all four windows, taking his time to get it right. Doing all that, combined with the intense training, drained his stamina to the point of a deep headache. Wincing, he changed into his nightclothes, washed up, and went to bed.
Alarm
Augum bolted up in bed in the thick of night to the sound of an alarm blaring in his brain. When the alarm silenced, he gathered his frantic thoughts, recognizing he had assigned that particular pitch of the bell to the left door handle of the terrace doors. He listened to the sound of his windows rattling in the wind, hidden behind thick velvet curtains. They were almost as loud as his thumping heart.
He stealthily crawled down his bed and over his trunk, undid the Seal enchantment he routinely placed upon it, and withdrew Augum’s Defender and Burden’s Edge. He fastened the sword to his waist with the belted sheath and strapped the armor over his night clothes. The specially forged golden Dreadnought breastplate would amplify his Elemental Armor spell, making him a more difficult opponent to kill.
Suddenly his hallway door burst open. He started, but it was only Jez, hand aglow with watery light, wearing her nightgown.
“Yours got tripped as well?” he asked.
“Yes, the one I set on your doors.” She ran to the terrace doors while he ran to a window and peeked around a curtain. But all he saw was darkness and snow flying past … and the glint of Jez’s light.
“Your light,” he said. “It’s shining outside.”
Jez dimmed her light, but it had likely already spooked off the assassin.
“The girls—” Augum blurted and bolted out of his room, Jez hot on his heels. He careened into Leera’s room to find her standing in her nightgown, poised for a fight, staring at the terrace doors while Sir Pawsalot hissed at it.
“I heard Sir Pawsalot hissing even before my alarm went off,” she said, eyes wide and glassy. She saw Augum’s breastplate and snatched hers from her nightstand. He helped her strap it on. Then Leera scooped up Sir Pawsalot, whose tail was puffy, and they ran to Bridget’s room. When they burst in, she was standing in an attack position, eyes wide with fear.
“You too?” she asked, hand barely aglow with greenish ivy light.
“Might be an assassin,” Augum whispered. “Or it could be someone going after the scions.” Or someone trying to disturb his sleep so he would perform poorly in tomorrow’s duel. Nothing would surprise him when it came to noble scheming.
“Could be more than one,” Jez whispered. “And it’s bold of them to try. But that’s not what concerns me.”
“What concerns you?” Leera pressed, exchanging a worried look with Augum and Bridget. Anything that scared Jez had to be serious indeed.
“Whoever is out there got through my other spell protections, meaning they can cast Disenchant.”
A strong gust rattled the windows as they listened intently to the various sounds of the old castle while watching the doors.
“Didn’t you say something about the Whisper Blades being able to cast Disenchant?” Bridget whispered as she strapped on her golden breastplate. Leera helped her adjust it.
“Yes, but the reference I read was vague. The Whisper Blades keep their knowledge to themselves.”
“Which means they know Reveal as well,” Augum said. “Can’t cast Disenchant on what you can’t find.” He wished he still had access to the old castle protections, as those enchantments had long sunk to permanence and could not be disenchanted. Alas, the castle, its core built around a scion, would never wake again; it was a sieve to anyone able to break through their improvised protections. And whoever was casting Disenchant now had to be high enough in degree to worry about
. Augum couldn’t help but wonder if that was Deyon out there, here to take his revenge for Augum slaying his beloved.
“We’re gathering everybody,” Augum declared. “Charles too. And we’re sleeping in the same room.” To his surprise, the girls and Jez agreed.
“It’s the only prudent thing to do,” Bridget added.
Jez nodded at the doors. “Either that or we go out into the blizzard and hunt down our stalker. Or stalkers.”
They all listened to the bleak wind rattling the windows, to the intermittent and almost inaudible noises an old castle made, and to Sir Pawsalot’s nervous purring. Then they all looked at each other and chorused, “Nah.”
They left the room and crept down the marble steps in their nightgowns and breastplates, hands aglow and mindful of watching each other’s backs.
“Who do we have guarding the castle tonight?” Leera asked.
“I sent the tower watchman to the village due to the blizzard,” Augum said. “Which just leaves a door guard.”
They stepped into the vestibule and found a stocky half-asleep guard Augum recognized as Private Karla Higgins.
Upon seeing them, Private Higgins stiffened to attention. “M’lord. M’ladies. There anythin’ the matter?” the young woman asked in her country drawl. Her flaxen hair was tied up in a ponytail squeezed between her neck and a rusty helmet.
“Someone is trying to get in, Private,” Jez said.
The guard’s eyes widened. “Into here, m’lady? Now?”
“Yes.” Jez’s tone turned ominous as she gazed from one pair of eyes to another. “The castle has to be considered compromised. If whoever’s out there can cast Disenchant, then it’s only a matter of time before they get in. And once they get in, they can hide anywhere.”
Augum agreed. There were unused rooms throughout the castle, innumerable storage closets—not to mention the gigantic Training cavern where a person could hide for as long as their supplies lasted.