by Sever Bronny
A fish swam by and he yanked arcanely. It shot out of the water. He missed catching it with his hand but had the wherewithal to slap it aside on its descent. The fish tumbled to Leera, flipping this way and that. She shrieked and jumped out of the way. Ettan, on the other hand, started shouting in his native tongue before running off. The pair hardly took notice.
“Ugh, guess I got to do my part.” Leera picked up a rock and brought it down, just missing the fish.
Augum winced. “Best to hold it.”
She snatched the tail and slammed the rock down on the fish’s head, breathing a sigh of relief when it stopped moving. She glanced up with a wry grin. “Bridget never would have done that.”
“That’s why I title thee, ‘Fish Vanquisher’.”
She smiled. “Shut up.”
“I think that’s a trout. Now we just have to do it a couple more times and we should be fine.”
“Can’t believe Telekinesis even worked. Let me try now.”
Augum made an after you gesture and stepped off to the side of the bank as Leera took his place. She hardly started concentrating when there came a great commotion from the camp. Ettan soon reappeared with what looked like every male in the tribe, pointing and shouting at Augum and the fish, all clamoring to get a better look.
Rogan the Conqueror pushed through the crowd, shooing some of them back to the camp. They wandered off a little ways before creeping back on the periphery like snow foxes.
Rogan fixed a cold stare on Augum. He pointed at the fish. “You magic?”
Augum exchanged a look with Leera. “Yes, I, uh, I magicked the fish.” Bridget would have been mad at him for using that word. Warlocks say “arcane” or “arcanery”. “Magic” was for tricksters and fakes and parlor magicians.
Rogan explained to the crowd in their tongue. They hung on every word before returning their gaze to Augum.
“No, now it’s her turn,” Augum said, gesturing at Leera.
It wasn’t long until a fish flew through the air. Leera made it look even better by actually catching it by the tail and throwing it aside for Augum, who promptly smacked its head with a well-aimed blow of the rock.
“Salmon,” he said triumphantly.
The crowd erupted in cheers and equal shouts of alarm. “Nuliwi!” some called. “Andava!” others cried.
The cacophony was so great Augum feared they were going to get scalped then and there. Rogan issued commands. Runners dispatched to the tents. A gaggle of women and children quickly appeared, tongues clucking. Rogan sharply pointed at the stream, at the fish, and at Augum and Leera, all the while vociferously explaining in Henawa. He then turned back to Augum.“Now you show why no need women no more.” He explained the joke again in his tongue. The males all laughed while the women flashed sour looks.
Augum and Leera repeated the feat, this time even faster, and the entire tribe went wild—the women shouted at the men, the men pointed skyward and at the fish, and the children ran around screaming in a frenzy.
“Another trout,” Augum said, trying to ignore the calamity going on behind him. They grabbed their fish and pushed past the throng, strolling back to the camp wearing slight grins. Before they even got to the door of the house, every single child in the tribe (and even some of the youths and one or two of the adults when they thought no one was looking) was pointing at objects and barking commands, trying to make them move.
“Ho!” Rogan called just as Augum pried the door open with his turnshoe. The big warrior pointed to the center. “We make fire. Maniye nuliwi cook here.” He bared his golden tooth in a wide smile.
“Sure,” Augum said, relieved.
“I’ll tell the others, be back in a moment,” Leera said, disappearing inside.
Augum strode to the fire pit where a youthful Henawa man and woman were finishing making a pyramid of planks and twigs. The barn continued to lose timber, even though there were trees around.
“Chunchuha!” said a burly voice.
Augum turned to find a grinning chief. The grin was identical to that of the bear’s head sitting on his scalp. The large man began pointing at the fire and at the trout, speaking in Henawa.
“Chief want fish cook magic,” Ettan said, joining the little gathering.
“Nuliwi,” the chief said, nodding and smiling.
“Oh, uh, no, I don’t know how to do that,” Augum said, making an exaggerated shake of his head. “But some warlocks can cook their food arcanely, yes.” He was thinking of Erika Scarson in particular.
Ettan explained to the chief, the translation far longer than what Augum had said.
Leera soon returned with Leland and the other fish. Bridget followed along with Mr. Goss, who helped a coughing Mrs. Stone. She jabbed at the ground with her staff, each step a trial. The bustle of the camp slowed as the Henawa watched the procession.
“Now really, Mrs. Stone, I hardly think you are in any shape to be outside,” but she only waved Mr. Goss off impatiently. “She insists on some fresh air,” he said to them, as they sat on a log near the unlit fire.
“Leera told me everything,” Bridget whispered, joining him, along with Leera. “Didn’t know it was possible.”
“Neither did I,” Augum replied.
“They look friendlier now.”
He glanced around. It was true, the faces no longer showed open hostility, but curiosity, even amusement.
The chief strutted around the fire pit, long beard bobbing, as the throng slowly gathered near, some holding freshly caught fish, others deer or rabbit. He made a small speech in his tongue before gesturing grandly to the trio. Heads swiveled their way and watched.
Augum blinked. “Uh, what are we supposed to do now?”
Ettan pointed at the timber. “Make fire.”
“But I told you we don’t know how.”
Ettan shrugged.
Murmurs began as the Henawa started to get restless.
Suddenly the timber erupted in flames. The crowd gasped, retreating a few steps. Augum turned to see Mrs. Stone lifting her staff away from the fire, eyes closed, breath labored.
The chief nodded and chatted with Rogan, the two agreeing on something, while the crowd talked animatedly. Rogan finally sauntered over, his muscular chest still bare as if the cold didn’t affect him.
The crowd quieted.
“We not see this magic before. We see cup magic.”
Augum’s brows rose. “Cup magic?”
Rogan picked up a couple stones and made a show of swapping them around.
“Oh, you mean cuppers,” referring to the gambling game he had seen some of the older men play back in Willowbrook. “That’s more of a game really. What we do is called arcanery.”
Rogan puckered his lips. “Arganeri.” He turned to the group and pointed at the fire and at the fish. “Arganeri!”
“Argreenerie,” the crowd mumbled uncertainly.
Augum shared a smile with the girls. “Close enough,” before returning his gaze to Rogan. He had a serious question to ask. “How will you honor our agreement to trade for a healer—or shaman or whatever—when all our stuff is gone?”
Rogan frowned while the crowd muttered. He spoke with the chief. It degenerated into an argument, with the chief pointing at Mrs. Stone and then pointing at the woods. Rogan finally spat on the ground and turned to face Augum.
“You teach son arganeri then you teach chief. We find shaman. Make old woman not sick.”
“But I thought the shaman was here with you—”
Rogan gave him a blank look.
Ettan pointed north. “Shaman far away. Long ride.”
The trio exchanged glances, asking the same silent questions—what if the boy didn’t have the aptitude to learn Telekinesis, and how would they get around the language barrier?
Augum glanced Mrs. Stone’s way. She sat with bowed head, clutching her staff as if her life depended on it—and in a way, it indeed did. She’d be able to discern in a heartbeat if the boy could learn arcanery.
Augum looked to Bridget and Leera. They gave reluctant nods. “All right, deal,” he said, wondering how in Sithesia they were going to teach a Henawa boy Telekinesis.
Rogan gave a nod. “Good.”
Chikota then showed Mr. Goss how to cut a fish properly and cook it over a thin cedar plank. One of the women even offered dried rosemary. Soon the scent overcame Augum’s worries and his mouth began to water. By the time the first fish was ready, he thought his stomach would jump out of him and eat the fish itself—yet he let the first one go to Bridget, who slowly fed morsels to Mrs. Stone.
Chikota then showed them the same procedure with the other fish. Midway through cooking, the door to the house opened and out spilled Mrs. Penderson, Buck and Wyza.
Everyone turned to stare.
“We wants more food, you savages!” Mrs. Penderson called. “You don’t have no right to stay here on my land without no payment. You don’t have no right! You is going to feed my children or you is going to go!”
“Ma, please …” Wyza said.
“Hush up, child, Ma is talkin’.” She dragged Buck and Wyza all the way to the fire. She faced Rogan the Conqueror, eyes wild. “You hear me, you filthy savage? You pay or you go. We have a thing called rent in civilized society.”
“Mrs. Penderson,” Mr. Goss broke in, “perhaps now would not be the time—”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut that gob, you spectacled freak? If my husband were here, he’d send you all to hell. You know he’s part of them Legion now, don’t you?” She turned to Rogan, who observed her curiously. “My husband’s a Burner!” She gesticulated at the assembled crowd. “Burner!”
“Burner,” some of them mumbled.
She fixed her gaze on Augum, her brows knitting together like crossed swords. “This be all your fault! You best get them savages out of here right quick—”
“Or what?” Augum asked, feeling his face grow hot. “What are you going to do to me that you haven’t done already?”
Mrs. Penderson took a step back, gaping. Her knuckles whitened as she held onto Buck and Wyza.
“Ma, you is hurtin’ me,” Wyza said, squirming.
“Want me to smack him for you, Ma?” Buck asked.
Augum flexed his jaw. “Please try. Give me an excuse.” He was tired of people trying to take advantage of him or his friends.
Buck glared but didn’t move.
“You done have some nerve, boy. Should’ve beaten it out of you, I should’ve.” Mrs. Penderson glanced around at the Henawa. Every single one of them watched her. Her gaze fell back on Augum. “You’ll regret this, you wretch,” and charged back to the house, dragging her son and daughter like piglets.
Rogan shook his head. “She demon eyes.”
Bridget squeezed Augum’s shoulder, whispering, “I’m sorry you had to grow up around that.”
Leera suddenly yanked the trout from the fire. “Shoot, the fish burnt …”
Mrs. Penderson
After a most delicious breakfast, the trio began the training. They started by practicing fundamental arcanery, as a focused warlock should on a daily basis. Mrs. Stone lay on the log while Mr. Goss sat beside her, watching. Leland stood with the trio, imitating their actions as described by Bridget.
“Think they’ll give us our stuff back if this works?” Leera asked under her breath while they dimmed and brightened the Shine spell before a throng of Henawa, who oohed and aahed with each wave of her hand.
“Don’t know,” Bridget replied. “Hope so. We need those spell books back.”
Augum extinguished his palm. “Let’s move on to Telekinesis.”
They practiced raising and lowering burning sticks from the fire, much to the entertainment of the crowd. To push themselves, they pooled their efforts and arcanely lifted one of the bench logs. One of the youths jumped on it and it collapsed, eliciting a round of laughter.
Next, Leera asked to borrow something from the chief. Ettan translated and the chief departed to his tent, returning with an abalone-inlaid wooden bowl.
“Uh, you sure about this, Lee?” Augum asked.
“Trust me.”
The chief handed the precious object over. Leera promptly smashed it against a rock. The crowd gasped and hissed. A few even drew weapons.
Leera calmly raised a hand. “Watch.” She bent over the broken bowl and concentrated while splaying out her palms. The crowd howled as the pieces reformed. Some pointed skyward, some downward. Yet after the shock of it passed, many began bringing them things to repair, as well as things to break and put back together again. Children brought wooden toys; men pipes, blades and buckles; women bottles, paddles and ornaments. The trio did it all—it was good practice.
“I don’t think we should do anymore,” Bridget finally said. “Think of how they’d react to some of our other spells.”
Augum imagined the Henawa hurling spears or axes at them just to see the Shield spell work, or even reflexively shooting them with an arrow after Slam.
“Agreed,” he said, making an exaggerated panting sound while pointing at his hurting head. “We have to rest, Chief, sorry.”
The chief frowned.
“Now you teach,” Ettan said, stepping before the trio just as they took a seat. “Teach magic fish.”
The trio glanced at each other before laboriously taking turns explaining how to perform the Telekinesis spell. Ettan and the chief merely stared. Needless to say, after many hours of trying, neither the chief nor Ettan managed to move a rock. The rest of the villagers—at least the ones that weren’t hunting or working—attempted Telekinesis as well. Occasionally one of them would summon up the courage to point at a rock. When it didn’t move, they’d study their finger quizzically.
Augum wasn’t surprised it wasn’t working—not everyone had the capacity to perform arcanery. Regardless, it was far harder than it appeared and required extensive and focused practice. He recalled his own bumbling attempts under Mrs. Stone’s patient eye. He had failed countless times before getting anywhere, and he was learning from a legendary mentor.
“We’re terrible teachers,” Leera said, glancing longingly at Mrs. Stone.
Augum would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it wasn’t so serious. Nana needed a healer. They had to come through somehow. “We are terrible teachers,” he mumbled as the chief picked up a stone and angrily hurled it at the barn. It thunked off the roof near the rooster, which crowed in alarm.
Bridget curled loose strands of cinnamon hair around her ear. “Could certainly use Mrs. Stone’s help.”
That gave him an idea. “Sir, uh, Rogan—” Augum said, catching the attention of the big snow-skinned warrior. “Sir, I don’t know if we’re exactly capable of teaching you, but I know someone who is.” His gaze fell upon Mrs. Stone.
“She dying. No good.”
“She taught us though. She’s—”
“—she’s a legend,” Leera cut in, making a grand gesture. “The best and most powerful warlock that ever lived. She can teach you how to fly even.”
Bridget gave her a questioning look that she ignored.
“If you make her well, she’ll teach you,” she continued, nodding and elbowing Augum.
“Yeah, uh, she’s the best,” he added. “But you have to make her not sick now, not later.”
Rogan studied them for a time. Ettan imitated his father, giving them the same appraising look. At last, Rogan turned to the chief and explained the situation. The chief looked annoyed and the pair spoke harshly for a bit. Chikota and Hushu joined in on the fray. Soon the entire tribe was arguing.
“What’s going on?” Augum asked Ettan.
“Chief agree.”
“What? But there’s a lot of arguing going on.”
Ettan only shrugged.
Rogan finally whistled and barked some commands. The camp turned into a hive of activity. Youths began preparing horses while men strapped on mismatching armor and weapons.
“Now what’s going on?”
/> “They help old maniye woman.”
“I don’t understand.”
Ettan shrugged.
Soon most of the men and some of the older youth galloped northward, sending up eagle-like war cries and kicking up plumes of snow.
“Hope nothing bad happens,” Bridget said, holding Leland’s hand.
They waited by the fire, occasionally helping feed it, while the snow-haired women tended to their children, mostly ignoring the maniye. Ettan actually showed Leland how to make a fire by rubbing two sticks together over wood shavings. He didn’t say much, guiding Leland’s hands to show him the movements. Mr. Goss watched with misty eyes.
Meanwhile, Augum, Bridget and Leera spent a lot of time trying to haggle for their spell books, something difficult to do when they had nothing to barter with. They failed miserably, though Bridget did succeed in showing one of the youths how to operate the spyglass.
“What was the point of that?” Leera asked, watching the youth trip over a log while staring through the spyglass.
“Guess I thought he’d like to see something he’d never seen before.”
“Ugh. Now he’ll never give it back.”
They looked on as the youth explained this most miraculous of inventions to his cohorts. Soon the whole lot of them were on top of the barn, sweeping the horizon.
“Make sure to tell them not to look at the sun,” Mr. Goss said to Ettan.
Ettan shouted at the youths. A moment later one of them tumbled off the roof with a shriek, sending up a cloud of snow.
Bridget wagged her finger. “That wasn’t very nice, Ettan.”
Ettan couldn’t stop giggling, along with Leera. Augum had to avert his face lest Bridget see him cracking up too.
The day moved along almost entirely around the ever-fed fire. A wide curtain of cloud trawled overhead, bringing with it fat flakes of snow. They continued trying to teach Ettan and the chief arcanery, but nothing seemed to sink in. The chief eventually grew so frustrated he kicked the fire, nearly setting himself ablaze. As Henawa women and youths laughed, he cursed at them and limped off to his tent.
Supper consisted of deer, quail egg, skookum grass, durden root, and fish, which of course had to be retrieved arcanely, an occasion that demanded the entire tribe’s attention, just in case their eyes had fooled them the first time.