by Sever Bronny
Bridget turned to the fallen enemy and whispered, “May your soul find the peace together we could not reach.”
“The evil thing hardly deserves the Final Valediction, if you ask me,” Maxine said, eyeing The Path Disciple. Then she looked at the dark tunnel. “Get moving, who knows what else they’ll be sending down here.”
Leera sniffed, drew away from Augum, and nodded. “Right.” Yet as they hurried off, she kept glancing over her shoulder at Ulfric’s body.
* * *
“No, I don’t think he was a necromancer,” Augum interrupted as they jogged down a secondary tunnel after coming up to a fork. They were debating what sort of warlock The Path Disciple had been. “I saw his Third Offensive light come from the ground, something that did not happen with necromancers.”
“His rings were black,” Maxine argued. “Therefore he had to have been a necromancer. It’s simple logic.”
“I find it interesting that The Path has trained warlocks,” Bridget said.
“It was inevitable if you think about it,” Maxine countered.
“Forgive me, but how was it inevitable?”
“The Path is a tool, nothing more. Hypocrisy means nothing when you have sheep that will believe whatever you tell them.”
“I suppose you can look at it that way.”
“I just did.”
“No need to be rude,” Haylee interjected, adjusting her rucksack, which had gotten tangled with the hood of her fur coat.
“Facts are not rude. They are facts.”
“It’s an opinion, not a fact,” Leera countered in a faint voice, obviously still struggling with Ulfric’s death.
Maxine snorted.
Naoki ran a hand through her short hair, forehead glistening with sweat. “I agree to a point.”
Maxine scowled dismissively at her. “Don’t insert yourself needlessly into conversation, it’s a waste of everyone’s time.”
Naoki recoiled and glanced about at the others in shock.
“And don’t play up looking so offended either. This is a military excursion of the highest importance. Suck it up and get back to guarding Stone.”
A crushed Naoki drifted back to Augum’s side.
“We should quit our bickering,” Cry said. “We worked well together in training. No reason that should end.”
They fell silent. Augum didn’t voice the sentiment that in training they had been led by assertive yet decent people who cared about the group as a whole. He recognized that Maxine was a higher degree, had seniority due to her age, and had the right to lead them by all known measures, but she was getting on his nerves and he wasn’t comfortable with her leadership style.
The group soon came upon another fork and Maxine stopped to face them. “Who has the backup map?”
“I do,” Jengo said.
“Give it to me.”
Jengo withdrew it from a pocket and handed it over. While Maxine referenced the map, Augum glanced at the faces around him, pale in the light of their dim palms. All were tense with anxiety. Olaf hung protectively near Bridget as if unsure what to do with himself, for Brandon was right there, eyes alert, hands at the ready, as was her other protector, Cry, though his hands hung idly by his sides. Mary hovered dutifully by Olaf as his protector. Haylee watched Jengo’s back while Naoki stared into the darkness as if facing her own demons.
“I am sorry for your loss, Dragoon Jones,” Arthur whispered. He was standing close to her, face pale, hair askew. “Truly.”
“Don’t give up your life for me,” Leera blurted.
“That I cannot promise. It is my duty to lay down my life for you. That is, after all, partly why they chose me.”
Leera looked at each of the protectors. “Is that what you all told them?” she asked in anguished tones. “That you’d die for us?”
One by one, Cry, Arthur, Mary, Naoki and Brandon nodded.
“You just realized that now?” Maxine asked without bothering to look away from the map.
Leera opened her mouth to reply only to close it. When her gaze met Augum’s, he saw anguish behind her spectacles, deep in her dark eyes. He knew that anguish all too well. It was one thing to court death, quite another to feel responsible for it.
“Up that way and then a right,” Maxine muttered, stuffing the map into her pocket. She glanced over them like a stern housekeeper inspecting a line of recalcitrant servants. Then she repositioned her rucksack on her shoulder, wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her sleeve and hissed, “We’re moving.”
Just as they got underway again, they heard dogs barking behind them.
“They’re on the scent,” Jengo said.
“Exit’s not far.” Maxine led the way at a jog, with Haylee struggling to keep up. Jengo helped her along as best he could, but she kept swatting him off, hissing that she would manage and had to manage.
“What a mess,” Brandon said as he jogged along. “Too much went wrong too fast.”
Agreed there, Augum thought to himself.
They came upon a division in the tracks. Behind them, the dogs grew louder.
“This is it,” Maxine said, and turned toward one of the tunnels, which steadily inclined. “It goes right into an old slaughterhouse in the Shanties Quarter. Burns, I want you to throw up a wall here as if we were going down that other tunnel.”
Bridget nodded, turned in place, and began the casting.
“Ain’t going to work with dogs,” Brandon muttered to Augum.
Augum agreed but did not reply. Undermining a commander’s authority ruined morale, which was low enough already.
Brandon and Cry watched Bridget’s back while the others hurried on. The three of them caught up to the group just as they reached the exit door, an ancient thing made of thick planks.
Maxine glanced over at a huffing Bridget. “Well?”
“Wall is up,” Bridget reported.
Maxine gave a terse nod and tried the door, which didn’t budge. She stepped back. “We blast it.” She pointed at Mary, Arthur and Naoki. “You, you and you. First Offensive, on three, my count.”
As the four readied, everyone else stepped away.
“One, two, three—annihilo!” Four simultaneous blasts smashed into the planks, obliterating the door. Maxine climbed through first. “Clear,” and the others followed, stepping into an old abandoned wooden building that stank of rotten meat, rat droppings, and moldy hay. Countless cow pens and iron hooks and rusted iron implements looked like they had been used for slaughtering animals.
Maxine glanced around before focusing back on the tunnel. “We don’t have time to go through the preparations and cast the Group Teleport scroll.”
“Actually, we probably do, Commander,” Arthur said, standing a little too close to Leera for Augum’s comfort.
While Cry flashed him a repulsed look, perhaps because he loathed anyone who sucked up to authority, Maxine threw Arthur a fierce glare. “Don’t question me in front of the troops ever again. We make a stand here. Get out of my way, Summers.”
Brandon frowned at her but stepped aside, and she strode past to inspect the doorway.
“What was with that look?” Arthur hissed at Cry.
Brandon scoffed at Cry. “He has a problem with people in charge.”
Cry’s droopy eyes narrowed into slits at Brandon. “It is in my nature as a herald to be skeptical of authority.”
“Well, we don’t have room right now for skepticism, do we?” Brandon countered.
Augum, seeing that Maxine was ignoring them, realized he had to step in to stop this brushfire from turning into an angry inferno. Brandon and Cry had animosity that began when Brandon made fun of Cry for almost accidentally blowing himself up in Lightning class, dubbing him Fry Himself, a play on Cry Slimwealth. In retaliation, Cry had penned a few unflattering pieces in the Youth Herald about Brandon’s uselessness—and as someone undeserving of Bridget’s affections. Although the pair had maintained a cool distance in training, the stress of their current situ
ation seemed to have allowed those old animosities to flare.
Augum stepped between them. “I thought we got past all this, you two. Leave it behind. From now on, we work together.”
Cry and Brandon crossed their arms and grudgingly nodded, though Augum suspected this little tiff might need to be addressed again at some point.
Augum looked to Maxine, still thinking by the doorway, and realized she was hesitating. Meanwhile, the barking dogs drew nearer.
“They didn’t fall for it,” Mary said in a mousy voice.
“Told you so,” Brandon muttered to Augum.
Maxine flashed Mary an annoyed look, then glanced around the abandoned slaughterhouse. “We make a stand, get rid of our tail here and now, otherwise they could follow us to Antioc.” She snapped her fingers at Mary. “Don’t just stand there, cast a—” Then she pressed her lips together, seeming to realize Mary was probably not high enough in degree to cast what she wanted. “Never mind,” she muttered, and strode past her to the broken door. There she dropped to her knees and carefully drew along the floor while incanting, “Infusio gato captum summano fissera erta multato.”
“What spell did she just cast?” Olaf whispered to Bridget.
“Craft Trap infused with—”
“—Multiple Fissures,” Maxine interrupted, standing. “It’s my 10th degree elemental Summon Minor Event spell. You should know that from your training, Hroljassen.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t gotten as high as you—”
“Oh, we certainly know that, don’t we?” she countered, referring to Olaf hitting his ceiling at the 6th degree and subsequently leaving the academy. Judging by his now-red face, it was something he was still deeply ashamed of.
Augum shook his head, irritated with Maxine. She was out of line, and he would tell her so in private at the first chance. With Bridget’s encouragement, Olaf had vowed to give the academy another try—and he deserved that chance. And although Augum also understood that military discipline sometimes needed to be harsh—The Grizzly was a prime example—there was no reason to put Olaf down like that, especially now, when they were about to make contact with the enemy.
As the barking dogs got louder and louder, Maxine divided the group to stand on either side of the doorway. Augum, who stood with Jengo on the opposite side of Maxine, realized that she had forgotten a crucial component of their training. He telekinetically tugged on Jengo’s sleeve and mouthed, “Support simuls.”
He nodded and, after a moment of brief concentration, whispered, “Summano semperis vorto honos.” His hand lit up with a gentle white glow, and he touched those in his group on the shoulder, imparting a bit of that white glow to each of them.
A warm and confident feeling came over Augum. The Ally of the Dragon spell was an ancient Arcaner simul that boosted casting potency by one whole degree, translating into greater arcane damage from offensive spells and higher impact from mind spells. And that potency bonus—as well as spell duration—would only increase as Jengo became more proficient with the simul. The incantation itself also happened to include the Arcaner motto—courage, fortitude, honor.
“Summano stamina au draca persona,” Jengo next incanted, relighting his palm with the useful Stamina of the Dragon simul. Everyone he subsequently touched gained a temporary boost of their arcane stamina.
As the sound of boots soon joined the barking, Maxine’s group looked on forlornly, for they had been left out of the casting due to the divide.
“Sir, they’ve gone through here,” said a male voice.
“Wait, you fool—” a female cried. But it was too late. A loud crack erupted as the ground split into three fissures at the doorway, swallowing up the remains of the door, parts of the wall and a couple cow pens. Both groups sidled away along the wall, waiting with hands in attack positions.
A man loosed a blood-curdling shriek of terror before he was abruptly silenced by a rumbling crunch as the fissures squeezed shut, pulverizing whatever had fallen in. The dogs were heard yelping and running back down the tunnel.
Augum, ignoring the impressiveness of the casting, took the initiative and precisely drew the shape of his dragon in midair with a finger. “Summano elementus minimus draco.” With a blistering crackle, a dragon appeared between himself and the damaged entrance. Eight lightning rings simultaneously flared around his arm. “Draco, attack!” he commanded. With a snap of its lightning wings and a whip of its electrified tail, the dragon shot forth.
“Annihilo ito!” shouted a warlock within the tunnel, followed by First Offensives from two others, indicating three or more warlocks were likely outside, the first of whom was at least 13th degree based on the spell. Augum’s dragon exploded just as it reached the doorway, showering the area with sparks.
“Jam the entrance with elementals!” Augum called out.
While everyone followed his lead, summoning various standard and Arcaner elementals, Maxine ignored him and sidled along the wall to the torn-up entrance, where she made an unsheathing gesture while hissing, “Summano arma,” summoning an earthen longsword.
Two simultaneous calls of “Elementus, attack!” and “Draco, attack!” rang out, and no less than nine additional elementals—four dragons, five standard stubby minor elementals—charged the entrance, stuffing through it and causing a cacophony of shouts from the other side.
“Hold,” Augum called, hearing a few shouted spells but mostly the song of blades as the enemy chopped at their elementals. Judging by the amount of chopping and the scuffing of boots, he estimated the Canterrans also had ten Ordinaries with them, the rest having gone down the other tunnel. Though unless the ten soldiers were well trained, they stood little chance against that many elementals.
“Hold,” Augum called out again as the fight turned rabid. Multiple concussive bursts were followed by elemental squeals. Amongst the chaos, Augum heard a distinct thwomp. While Maxine remained in place, he and a few others whirled about to see a Canterran warlock overseer in an ill-fitting turquoise robe appear thirty feet behind them. He was a man in his thirties with a bulging forehead. Thirteen rings of fire floated around the sleeve of his left arm.
“Rear guard!” Leera shouted from beside Augum. While some in both groups instinctively raised their shields, she and Bridget quickly followed up by smacking their wrists together. “Annihilo bato!” A pair of sharp jets of water and two ropes of vine hissed toward the enemy, who forward-flipped over the strikes. As he gracefully landed on his feet, he swirled both arms over his head, incanting, “Summano fiero rana aregando.”
A rain of fire droplets began to shower Augum’s group from above, forcing the rest to summon their shields and cover their heads. It was the same spell Maxine had cast—the 10th degree Summon Minor Event—except the fire element version was live instead of infused in a trap. Everything those droplets touched burst aflame, causing miniature fires to spring up everywhere.
Some in the other group slapped their wrists together at the enemy warlock, incanting, “Annihilo!” but he effortlessly whirled away from the elemental blasts, countering with fluid twists of his hands and snapping, “Flustrato, flustrato!” twice in succession.
This one is trained well, Augum thought as Olaf’s and Brandon’s heads snapped back as if punched. Both staggered into the arms of those behind them—Bridget and Mary respectively—the Confusion casting having penetrated despite their training.
Augum kept his shield over his head as he advanced toward the caster while his companions tried to scamper out of the rain of fire. Smoke swirled and people coughed. And throughout, a battle raged in the tunnel behind them.
But Augum kept his focus on the enemy warlock, who kept the other group off balance with multiple fluid battle castings while darting away from their spells like a sparrow.
Very well trained, Augum thought before unsheathing Burden’s Edge and incanting, “Summano arma grau.” The shortsword instantly exploded with lightning and extended into a longsword. But, being a simul—Roar of the Dragon
, in this case—the sword was also primed with eight charges of the Slam spell.
The warlock saw Augum coming and his bullish brow furrowed in concentration as he slapped his wrists together. “Annihilo bato!”
Augum, clear of the rain of fire, brought his shield forward and channeled the concept of arcane perpendicularity, snapping, “Mimicus!” He felt the pair of fireballs hiss into his shield and reverse with a thwap. He peeked over his shield in time to witness the warlock dance around the fireballs. They slapped into the timber wall behind him, setting it ablaze.
The man cracked a grin. He summoned a fiery shield onto his left arm while making an unsheathing motion at his hip with his right, incanting, “Summano arma.” A fiery longsword burst into existence in his enclosed fist.
Augum, feeling particularly confident with his abilities due to Jengo’s Ally of the Dragon casting, was happy to have his bladed combat challenge accepted, and charged in to meet him head-on. Not to mention his stamina felt like a barrel of energy that he could tap into, as opposed to, say, a mere bucket.
Augum raised his sword and feigned a top-down strike only to change his swing at the last moment and slice it sideways. The man adjusted and Burden’s Edge smashed into his fiery shield with a sizzle—instantly unleashing a mighty crack of thunder. The man flinched at the unexpected sound and Augum kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying into his own wall of flames, which instantly engulfed him.
But just as Augum thought the ordeal was over, the man disappeared his shield and swept an arm over his body, extinguishing the flames before thrusting away from the wall. He jabbed at Augum and the pair exchanged a flurry of parries.
The man was good, but Augum was slightly better, faster, and more creative with his blade—his confidence and boosts, combined with his extensive combat reflex training, allowed him to steadily beat the man back to the burning wall, each strike letting loose a mighty crack of thunder. Then, inspired by his training, Augum feigned a wild jab only to release Burden’s Edge at the last moment. The man swung at the tip of the blade only for Burden’s Edge to cease its lightning crackling and shrink back to a shortsword, causing the man’s swing to slice through empty air.