by Sever Bronny
Mercy’s Trial
Fury of a Rising Dragon: Book Three
SEVER BRONNY
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or deceased, establishments of any kind, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Bronny, Sever, 1979-, author
Mercy’s Trial / Sever Bronny.
(Mercy’s Trial ; book three)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-7751729-4-9 (softcover)
ISBN 978-1-7751729-5-6 (ebook)
I. Title. II. Series: Bronny, Sever, 1979- . Mercy’s Trial ; bk. 3.
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Copyright ©2019 Sever Bronny Ltd. All rights reserved. Map design by author. Cover design by Deranged Doctor Designs. For information about permission to reproduce certain portions of this work, please contact the author at [email protected] or via www.severbronny.com
To see a list of spells, class schedules and other resources for our heroic trio, visit severbronny.com
The Mighty Teleport
An amber-robed Augum Stone teleported into the chair with a thwomp, instantly fusing his left thigh with the seat. He fell over on his right side, screaming from the piercing pain and trying not to gawk at the ghastly sight of wood penetrating his flesh. The seat protruded awkwardly from his now-torn robe as if he’d suddenly grown a new limb.
Jezebel Terse strode over, arms crossed, the hem of her turquoise robe swinging. “What did I say about envisioning the location precisely? Hmm? This isn’t a game, Stone—no, get away from him!” She swatted at Bridget, Leera and Jengo, who had rushed in to help. “He has to learn how to recover on his own. You’ve all got to stop expecting someone to come to your aid every time you mess up with this spell.”
She turned back to Augum, who was writhing on the floor like a worm on a hook. “All right, Stone, let’s pretend Bridget and Leera are busy holding the enemy at bay and there’s no healer present. Are you going to continue moaning like a baby, or are you going to get back in the fight?”
Knowing she was right, Augum gritted his teeth and focused through the pain. He extended his hands and, as gently as possible, used his telekinetic might to break off parts of the chair, leaving only the seat embedded in his thigh. Then he hauled himself to his feet—or rather foot, since his left leg was useless—as blood streamed to the checkered black-and-white floor.
Jez took a few steps back, gave him a Ready yourself, mister look, and slammed her wrists together, incanting, “Annihilo!”
Augum reflexively summoned his black lightning shield in time for the jet of water to slap into it, making him hop back. But he managed to hold his ground.
Jez followed up with a twist of her wrist. “Flustrato,” but she had tempered her Confusion casting to around the 10th degree, which he easily fended off with his battle-hardened Mind Armor. She then threw a small volley of similarly tempered spells—Fear, Deafness, a second Confusion casting—which smashed into his Mind Armor and folded like parchment.
“You going to hit back, Stone, or play defense the whole time?”
Augum snapped his fingers, causing a bright flash of light—a new off-the-books 3rd degree elemental spell. As Jez flinched from the flash, he shoved at the air, growling, “Baka!”
But she merely twirled aside as the invisible Push spell blew past her.
Augum raised his arms, motioning as if he were lobbing a ball at her. “Bola lauba.” Another new off-the-books elemental spell, this one 8th degree. Three pumpkin-sized balls of lightning sailed toward Jez, but they were too slow and she telekinetically batted them aside like flies. They burst where they landed with an explosive crackle that carpeted a five-foot area of the floor.
“Predictable, Stone, predictable! I mean, it’s great that you’re using your new spells, but where’s the creativity? Where’s the variety?”
Augum glanced past her to a man standing with folded hairy arms, observing their training. Commander Abe Brewerson—known as The Grizzly because he was huge and bear-like—had taken great interest in their group dynamic, using their performance and communication to make team pairings for their coming quest. Sometimes he dropped in to assess their progress, as he was doing now. His long beard was neatly trimmed, a sign the man was feeling sharp and motivated, a marked difference from the shaggy bush he grew out last term while wallowing in self-pity.
Jez looked back at the big man and mirrored his folded arms. The two of them were “dating,” and a fierce duo to behold—a 17th degree water warlock and an 18th degree earth warlock joining forces to browbeat the students into their best performance … and behavior.
Jez returned her attention to Augum and raised a single eyebrow. “Battle Teleport.” The extension was a quicker version of the standard Teleport spell, requiring less focus—ideal for battle. But its range was limited to line of sight.
“Jez, really, he’s going to bleed—”
“Shut it, Burns,” Jez snapped without looking at her. “You’re about to go on the quest of your lives, so we don’t have time for coddling. Knowing how to teleport at a moment’s notice is critical for your journey, and seeing as I took on the primary responsibility of mentoring you on the spell, I expect you to do as I say without whining. Now, Stone—Leera’s injured and you need to teleport to save her life. Put your grown-up robe on, focus through the pain and envision yourself by her side. Remember everything you’ve been taught. Don’t rush it like you usually do, and just … try not to screw it up again.”
Augum looked uncertainly at Leera, standing ten feet away. She wore a pair of light silver spectacles that accented her sharp brows. The oval lenses were already dirty, even though he had recently cleaned them for her. Despite her protestations, he thought they looked so cute that every time he laid eyes on her he wanted to kiss her—even now as he stood in agony.
Jez still held her iron gaze on Augum. “Jones, stop dawdling like a hen waiting to lay an egg and skip off a hundred feet, would you?”
“Right. Sorry.” Leera shot off to stand a ways down the polished floor. They were in the ‘Port Trainer, as Leera called it, for she had started shortening the name of the spell once they had begun learning it. The academy training room was vast and ancient, with platforms ascending into infinity. The platforms were spread further apart the higher up they went, so that warlocks had to truly push themselves to achieve success—at the possible cost of a limb, or perhaps their life, for countless stories existed of warlocks appearing in midair before plummeting to their death. Obstacles were scattered on the platforms—live trees growing in huge pots, tiny houses, chairs, carts, barrels, troughs, and so on—obstacles one would encounter in the field. And because teleportation required warlocks to have been in the exact spot before, portals connected each platform so they could visit prior to teleporting, satisfying the requirement.
Nearby stood Arcaner Dragoons Bridget Burns, Jengo Okeke, and Laudine Cooper, the latter pair having passed their own Arcaner trials recently, an arduous affair that caused much anxiety in those waiting around for them to return—and much celebration when they eventually did. Arcanist Ordrid was also there, wearing the customary black arcanist robe, and his healing skills had oft come into use.
“I said a hundred, Jones, not fifty!”
Leera muttered under her breath and ran further away.
“Now hop to it, Stone.” Jez grinned at her own pun.
Augum closed his eyes and tried his best to concentrate through the throbbing pain. He tried not to think of the wood so seaml
essly fusing with his flesh, the searing sensation worming its way into his soul, the acid doubt that had leeched its way into his casting ability.
“You won’t have time to meditate in battle, kiddo.” Jez rhythmically snapped her fingers to accent her points. “It’s got to be reflexive and precise. Fluid and instinctive. Let’s go already, we’ve got a ball to primp for!”
Ignoring her, Augum finished the mental exercises that prepared the complicated spell. As always, visions of past failed teleportations broke into his mind like burglars in the night, interrupting his focus. He saw himself upside down in a trough, undergarments exposed as the audience at his manhood ceremony laughed at him. That awful memory was followed by another—escaping the Lord of the Legion’s clutches, only to teleport into a wall, smashing his body so violently that he broke half his bones.
“Impetus peragro!” he incanted. He felt a massive cold pull on his arcanery and his body getting yanked as the space around him morphed. He popped back into existence a moment later by Leera’s side, except this time his right foot exploded with pain and he stumbled to the floor as if caught in a bear trap. When he inspected the source of the pain, he saw that his toes had fused with the floor.
“Unnameables help me, I’m an idiot,” he muttered, sitting up and gripping both injured legs.
“Oh, for the love of—Arcanist Ordrid, would you please see to the hapless fool?”
“Certainly, Ms. Terse.” Ordrid and his apprentice, Jengo, strode over to Augum.
Augum glanced at The Grizzly and saw that he was leaving, shaking his head with disappointment. Great.
Leera kneeled beside Augum, tenderly placing one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually, love. You know how many tries it’s taken Bridget and me to get this spell right. There must be something you’re doing wrong.”
Augum only winced from the pain, too ashamed to tell her why he was failing. With all his experience, he had arrogantly thought he could waltz into the spell and master it like he had Telekinesis. What he hadn’t accounted for was his own humiliating memories holding him back. Now he lagged behind the others, and it was embarrassing. He was supposed to be their leader. Even more irritating, he thought he had overcome his fears with Teleport in the Arcaner dragoon trial, when he had stood on stage in a redo and been pelted with fruit. Unfortunately, what he hadn’t done was cast the spell right after, ensuring that what he had learned stayed in place. Not to mention he had learned far more complicated spells and thus felt he should be having no trouble with this one.
Arcanist Ordrid crouched beside Augum and began the initial healing rituals, choosing to extract the seat from his thigh first, declaring it a priority injury. Throughout, he gave advice to Jengo, who looked on with a serious expression. Jengo had also been training as an Arcaner healer on his own time, which differed from regular Arcaner training by focusing on two special support simuls that would aid them on their sacred Arcaner quest to Ley—and then on to the dragon realm. There, the group would attempt the impossible—learn how to summon dragons.
“… and we’ll be carefully repairing the vastus lateralis muscle by knitting the tendon back to the bone,” Ordrid explained, hands glowing as he manipulated flesh.
Augum squeezed Leera’s hand as he clenched his jaw.
“See that fibrous tract, Initiate Okeke?”
Jengo leaned closer. “The iliotibial tract, Arcanist Ordrid?”
“Named after?”
“Jonathan Iliotibial the Fifth, a traditional healer who lived circa 351 Pre Founding.”
“Good. We must make sure the iliotibial tract remains nimble or the patient may lose lateral hip rotation.”
Augum couldn’t help but think of their friend Haylee’s bad leg and how it hadn’t healed properly after being broken—even after arcane healing.
“And the primary muscles adjoining the tract are …?”
“Tensor fasciae latae and glutoneus aximus, sir.”
“That’s your butt,” Leera whispered into Augum’s ear, smirking, making his cheeks burn.
Ordrid’s hands went dark as he paused the healing. “Please tell me how you would proceed, Initiate Okeke.”
Jengo, frowning at the wound, did not hesitate. “Since the pain is localized, the Reduce Pain spell is unnecessary. Anesthetize would buy me time, but assuming we would be in the midst of battle, I would delve right into surgery using a combination of Exploratory Abscission and Remedy Complex Wound, interspersed with Diagnose castings and a Bone Heal casting—all as needed, of course.”
“Good. You may proceed, Initiate Okeke.”
Once Jengo finished extracting the chair and healing the bone and flesh, he thrust the bloody seat into Augum’s chest with a crooked smile. “Souvenir?”
“Shove it.”
“That can be arranged as we could certainly use the practice.”
“Focus, Initiate, as you’ll be healing the foot.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Augum, who didn’t want to watch the extraction of his toes, lay back on the cold stone floor, tossing the seat aside. Souvenir indeed. Leera hovered over him, stroking his chestnut hair. Behind them, Bridget and Laudine had already returned to practicing their teleportation while Jez looked on.
Over a month had passed since the battle under the academy and its subsequent encasement in a protective dome, cutting the institution off from the outside world and trapping the occupants inside. Under ordinary circumstances the end of a school term meant the students had a whole month of winter recess to do as they pleased, but instead they had spent the time training, usually as a group that involved everyone going on the quest.
The Canterrans kept a constant watch around the dome’s perimeter, patient like stalking wolves. In the meantime, their armies, bolstered by the mighty siege engine dragon piloted by Katrina Von Edgeworth, had been invading the other kingdoms.
Everyone trapped in the besieged academy had been put to work. Ordinaries from Arinthia were in charge of food, clothing and whatever support was needed. Food had been a particular challenge considering they were limited to whatever was already in the academy, as well as what the Canterrans had hauled in prior to the academy’s recapture. Luckily an old—and terribly stale—stash of dried meats and other preserved foods meant for just such an occasion had been found in the storerooms.
The vast majority of warlocks had been training for war with The Grizzly, even the arcanists, often while wearing Legion Dreadnought armor secretly smuggled in from the royal armory last term. Meanwhile, the small group of eight Arcaners—Haylee, Jengo, Laudine, Olaf, Alyssa, Bridget, Leera, Augum—and their support warlocks, planned and trained for their epic quest to Ley, which hinged on tomorrow’s successful escape from the academy. Everyone was finally ready.
Everyone except for Augum. After his entire class had passed their written exams as well as the traditional arcane 8th degree test, those who were eligible to cast Teleport immediately began learning it. That included Augum, Bridget, Leera and Laudine, as well as Brandon, Cry and Mary. The latter group was currently refreshing their Arcaner studies with Alyssa. Unfortunately, Alyssa, Haylee, Olaf and Jengo had not met the requirement of being within two degrees of the Teleport spell, as the academy forbade learning spells beyond that boundary. It was a point of contention for the trio, who had argued Mrs. Stone’s theory that students should be allowed to train ahead during wartime. The Arcanists disagreed, refusing to bend on the matter—even The Grizzly hesitated at breaking such a long-standing tradition. Jez was on their side, but she could only manage to get The Grizzly to look away whenever the trio cast illegal spells Mrs. Stone had taught them.
But there was another possible reason he was unable to properly cast Teleport, one Augum dared not entertain. Nope, he had definitely not hit his ceiling. No way would he let that horror happen.
Besides learning a few neat off-the-books elemental spells—long overdue, as such spells were entirely optional in the
academy—the eligible friends also focused on training in Teleport, leaving the other 9th degree spells alone for now, including the volatile Frenzy, the devious Craft Trap, and the nearly impossible-to-cast Shrink. The latter was so difficult, in fact, that teachers accepted a partial casting as a pass for the final 9th degree exam. The knowledge on how to correctly cast Shrink had been lost over the eons, same as Frenzy, which tapped into wild arcanery. The unpredictable spell, which once used to grant a measure of control, had devolved into an uncontrollable version of itself. It was thus banned in combat as one inevitably ended up attacking one’s own allies, or even oneself. Like Shrink, it existed solely as exam filler.
Everyone had gathered on the academy’s snowy lawn to celebrate a tepid Star Feast, watched by note-taking Canterrans. It was later followed by a meek Endyear, and the birth of a new year—3343 Post Founding. Then they had observed the academy traditions of graduation in the Grand Theater, honoring those who had hit their arcane ceiling. An advancement ceremony had been held for advancing students, and now the trio and their friends proudly wore one additional arm ring. Augum had enjoyed the celebrations as much as he could, but he looked forward to this evening’s farewell banquet and costume ball the most, for tomorrow a small group of them would undertake a dangerous and historic quest.
Jengo expelled a long breath. “There we go—finished. Test them out.”
Augum stood, flexing his left leg and right toes, then nodded. “All works as it should. Thank you.”
“Glad to be of service,” and Jengo and Arcanist Ordrid stepped away to review their work.
“He’s going to be a brilliant healer,” Leera said, watching Ordrid gesticulate and Jengo nod along. “Correction, is a brilliant healer.” She elbowed Augum. “What’s with you, anyway? Never seen you struggle with a spell like this before.”
“Probably just nerves … or something.”
She flashed him a skeptical look. “Hey, if I can get used to these—” She tapped her spectacles. “—then you can get used to, uh, you know, ’porting correctly … and stuff.”