by Sever Bronny
“Then let’s do the same,” Augum said. “We attack them before they exit the boundary of the anti-teleportation enchantment.” He hauled himself up and the group got underway in their assigned pairs.
Tree branches slapped their faces as they ran, forcing everyone to protect themselves with a raised arm, which made it more difficult to see. A stray branch whipped into Leera’s face at the wrong moment and she grunted and tripped, rolling right into a snowbank. Augum was about to double back for her when Arthur hauled her to her feet, brushed her off, and nodded for her to continue.
By the time Augum burst out onto the road, the blizzard was so bad it was near impossible to see anything beyond a foot or two. Worse, when he turned to look for the others, his face and eyes were assaulted by icy blasts of snow.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” he spat into the crook of his elbow, trying to ignore the vicious cold seeping into his bones. He considered arcanely searching for Leera but thought it better to stick with the plan and trust Arthur to watch her back.
Suddenly a massive fireball emerged from the blizzard and roared by mere feet away. Augum bolted in the direction it had come from and soon heard the frantic sounds of combat. He unsheathed Burden’s Edge, barely conscious of eight lightning rings flaring around his arm.
“Summano arma,” he incanted, and the blade elongated into a longsword and exploded with lightning starkly vibrant in contrast to all the whiteness. He pressed toward the noise and soon stumbled upon a figure lying in the snow. When he kneeled down to check on the person, who was dressed in a rough woolen surcoat the color of dirt, he felt a jolt of recognition—the figure was an unconscious lioness.
“Esha,” he whispered, momentarily stunned. He was staring at the last living Dreadnought.
Out of the corner of his eye came a glint, and Augum reflexively swung his blade and sheared the tip of a spear clean off, though it didn’t stop the sheared-off shaft from ramming into his jaw. A coppery tang exploded in his mouth as he jumped to his feet to defend himself, summoning his shield in time to block a double thwack of the spear shaft as he got to his feet. There came a flurry of jabs that Augum blocked, but they forced him to retreat and lose sight of Esha.
The attacker expertly pressed Augum to an area with deeper snow, where Augum finally got a good look at him. He was a burly Canterran soldier as large as The Grizzly, except with a bulbous, caveman-like forehead. His beady eyes had the wild look of someone who had killed many men.
Augum sliced at the spear but the man stepped aside and thrust the shaft past his shield. It thunked into the heart of Augum’s Dreadnought breastplate. Had he not been wearing his armor …
Augum, realizing the man was superbly trained, found himself overreaching with his blade and in danger of a face wound, and so he did the only thing he could think of—he let go of Burden’s Edge, which instantly snuffed before disappearing in the snow. He simultaneously made a yanking motion while shouting, “Disablo!” The basic 2nd degree Disarm spell worked, tearing the spear from the man’s hands.
What came next happened quickly—the beast of a man charged in even before his spear disappeared into the blizzard. Augum barely had enough time to twist his wrist as he spat, “Dreadus terrablus!” focusing on spiders. The man began screaming the moment he barreled into Augum, tackling him into deep snow and forcing his shield to disappear. The snow cascaded inward, choking Augum, as the man’s gigantic fists battered his face and arms like a pair of smith’s hammers. Attacking the arms was clever for it prevented him from using his mighty Telekinesis, and although Augum could use the spell without his limbs, he knew it would not nearly be strong enough to do any real harm against such a brute.
He’s going to kill me, Augum thought in sheer panic. In response, he used the very first extension he had ever learned and lit up his entire being with lightning. The crackling was fierce and Augum caught the faint whiff of burning flesh, but that did not stop the man from continuing his assault.
Augum switched tactics and cut off the lightning, choosing to save his stamina. He managed to find some air and wheeze, “Virtus vis—” only to suffer another meaty punch to the face that crashed him back under the snow and swelled one eye shut. He flailed with his Telekinesis, but the man seemed to sense his intentions and continued to punch his arms, breaking the spell. Augum once more found air but this time only got as far as “Virtus—” before another punch walloped into his cheek, cracking it and sending him right back under the snow like a rag doll.
Black walls of unconsciousness began to impede Augum’s vision. A rabid energy, the kind that only came when facing death, roared through his being. The heavy man began trying to pin his arms with his trunk legs, successfully securing Augum’s right arm. As he went for his left, Augum gave it everything he had with that free arm and managed to telekinetically grab hold of the brute’s ankle. He gave it a firm yank and sent the still-screaming man rolling aside.
Augum spat out some snow. “Virtus vis viray!” he wheezed as he flexed all his muscles—just as the man jumped back on top of him. But this time, raging with the strength of an ox and finally able to see a little—if only from one eye—Augum caught one fist in an open palm and then the other, holding the brute at bay while the man continued screaming into Augum’s face, his breath reeking of fish rot.
For a precious moment, the opponents held firm, their arms shaking from the strain, before Augum roared and, with all his amplified might, shoved the man skyward a few feet. He jerked his now strong hands free of the man’s meaty grip and once more shoved at the air underneath the body, this time shouting, “Baka!” sending the man even higher, limbs flailing.
“Summano arma!” Augum swiftly incanted, summoning a pure lightning blade and hoping his idea would work without the steel of Burden’s Edge to back it up. He held the pommel of the lightning longsword against his Dreadnought breastplate, tip pointing upward, and skewered the man as he came crashing back down.
“Ah … ahhh …” the man gasped as he slid down the length of the crackling blade, beady eyes glassy with terror and wide with shock.
The pair were soon face to face and yet the brute still had the wherewithal to wind his hands around Augum’s throat and squeeze. Augum felt the veins in his forehead bulge as the man’s grip tightened like a vise.
Fine, you’re going to make me do this? Augum thought, in disbelief at the man’s tenacity. He began twisting his summoned lightning sword with his ox strength, making mincemeat of the man’s innards until the brute’s grip loosened and the life left his eyes. His head flopped forward, that sweaty caveman forehead coming to rest against Augum’s own.
Augum disappeared his summoned blade and groaned as he shoved the behemoth off of him, leaving behind a pool of blood that stained the snow and his robe. He allowed the Strength spell to lapse so that he could regain his stamina faster.
“May your soul find the peace together we could not reach,” he croaked, then lay gasping, snow pelting his face, incredulous at how close an Ordinary had come to snuffing his life—albeit a well-trained and physically massive Ordinary. He didn’t want to ruminate on how things would have turned out without the subtle but vital aid of Jengo’s support simuls.
His panting breath steamed into the crisp air. His face—and in particular, one eye—felt as swollen as if he’d been bitten by a hundred bees. His cheek ached from being cracked and his throat was raw. His muscles, taut like a drum, burned from the life-and-death struggle.
As he became aware of the distant blizzard-muted sounds of battle, a primal scream tore through the air. He bolted up to a sitting position in time to witness a body emerge from the blizzard and fly directly over him. He glimpsed Bridget’s terrified face—and it was streaked with blood. He instinctively lashed an arm out to telekinetically soften her fall. She landed in the snow with a grunt and rolled to a stop behind him. Not a moment later, Olaf soared by, slamming into the snow before Augum could help arrest his fall as well. But whereas Bridget writhed weakly,
Olaf was still.
The realization that his friends were getting hurt, and that they could possibly lose this battle, ripped through his body as if he’d been stabbed by a hot knife. He scrambled to his feet, desperate to join the fight, just as a purple-robed warlock with a brown beard stumbled into sight. The pair locked gazes before simultaneously flashing their arm rings and twisting their wrists at each other, incanting, “Dreadus terrablus!”
Out of reflex, Augum again focused on spiders, and counted thirteen fiery rings around the man’s arm before the opponent’s spell slammed into his own armored mind like a giant fist, denting but not piercing it. Augum’s spell in turn made the man’s head snap back. But neither were affected and the pair simultaneously cast a follow-up spell.
“Voidus lingua!” Augum spat, going for a Mute casting.
“Flustrato!” the bearded warlock hissed, obviously opting for quick battle spells rather than slower higher-degree ones.
Augum felt the enemy’s spell smash into his mind, and the dent in his armor enlarged—but the spell still did not penetrate. This time, Augum waited a heartbeat to gain a tempo and see how his spell had affected the man.
He got his answer when the bearded enemy warlock swiped at Augum’s throat. “Voidus lingua!” Augum ducked, feeling the arcane claws of the spell scrape across his throat, but his Mind Armor held strong. Had he been less experienced, the spell would surely have penetrated, leaving him unable to cast verbal spells.
As it was, he saw that the man was now close enough for the pair to engage in bladed combat. He opted for Roar of the Dragon, an Arcaner simul. “Summano arma grau!” he shouted, simultaneously summoning his shield and a lightning longsword primed with eight potent charges of the Slam spell. He had to be more watchful with one eye swollen shut but trusted his battle instincts and pressed forward.
The man countered with, “Flustrato!”
But this time, Augum thrust his shield before him and, using the concept of arcane perpendicularity and angling his shield just so, incanted, “Mimicus!” There was a high-pitched twang as the spell reflected back upon its caster, snapping his head back as if he’d been punched in the face.
The man cried out in surprise before quickly snapping, “Summano arma,” summoning a fiery longsword and burning shield. But surprise remained etched on his face and Augum, knowing he had gained the advantage, swung his blade, going for brute strength rather than precision. The man raised his burning shield to block just as Augum’s lightning sword connected with a monstrous crack of thunder. The man flinched and Augum continued to beat on the shield, each time loosing another crack. The man wilted with each blow, beaten down by the sheer noise and fury of the onslaught, until he fell in the snow, gibbering, “I yield, I yield, young man!” His sword had disappeared and he clung to his burning shield as if it were a precious bauble.
“Bend the knee!” Augum growled, conscious the battle was still going on and he could ill afford to dally. “Surrender your mind!”
The bearded warlock allowed his shield to disappear. “I bend the knee. I yield my mind.”
Augum let his sword and shield disappear as well. “I accept your surrender.” He drew the man’s outline with a finger. “Paralizo carcusa cemente.” The man stiffened and Augum nudged him with a foot to make sure the man had indeed yielded his mind and the spell had taken hold. Satisfied the enemy was as stiff as a board, he turned his attention to Bridget, who was struggling to get up. She had lost her coat in the melee—or perhaps stuffed it into a pocket, for it was arcane and could be turned into a cube.
He ran to her only for her to spot Olaf. “Ollie—!” she cried out, falling to her knees beside him. “Ollie, wake up, darling, wake up …”
While she gently shook Olaf with her left hand, Augum saw that her right arm was limp and dripping blood into the snow.
“I think he’s only unconscious,” Augum said as he tore a strip of her sleeve off. “Hold still a moment.”
“Ow, ow, ow,” she said through gritted teeth as he tied a tight tourniquet on her upper arm. Then she noticed his face and gasped.
“I’ll be fine,” he only said.
Mary and Brandon emerged from the blizzard, the former helping the latter, for Brandon was limping. She wasn’t hurt, whereas the side of Brandon’s head was bleeding. His eyes were enlarged and he wore a wild look of terror. He looked right through Augum and whispered, “It’s trying to eat me alive.”
“Stay with them, Mary,” Augum ordered, guessing that Brandon had succumbed to a Fear casting.
“I will.” Mary went through a series of complicated gestures before incanting, “Summano valla minimus girata barricada.” A protective wall of water appeared in a wide half circle around them, leaving an open area for Augum to escape. It was toward that opening that she raised her hands in attack formation, wind whipping her blonde hair against her face.
Augum splayed a hand, focusing on the Object Track enchantment he had placed on Leera, careful to differentiate it from the ones he had placed on Bridget and Naoki. The pull was strong, meaning she was near.
He bolted into the blinding rage of snow, keeping his face in the crook of his elbow and drawing toward the sounds of battle. He soon stumbled into a clear pocket where the wind and snow were held back by Haylee, her arms spread, face a mask of concentration. Yet in that pocket of quiet was a scene of utter carnage. Soldiers and warlocks lay about in snow splotched with blood, weapons strewn about. Jengo was kneeling beside an unconscious Cry, hands pressed to his stomach as he uttered healing incantations. Beside him sat four figures—Naoki, breathing quickly, a cut running across her forehead, one eye purple and shut; Maxine, dazedly nursing her right leg; and Leland and his ghoul, sheltering him protectively. All seemed to be recovering their strength before getting back in the fight.
And lying in the middle of the carnage was an unconscious lioness, a frayed hemp rope now tied around her waist—one of his friends must have found her and tried to drag her away from the melee.
Augum took all this in within a heartbeat and, seeing that Haylee was busy keeping the snow at bay so that Jengo could work, said to Maxine, “Bridget and Olaf are hurt.” He pointed toward them. “Jengo can follow my footsteps in that direction to find her.”
Maxine acknowledged him with a nod.
Augum spread his fingers and single-mindedly continued to follow the precious arcane tether into the snowstorm, heart in his throat, worried sick about his beloved. He cursed himself for not thinking about training in adverse conditions. All that training in the cozy comforts of a clear room turned out to be nearly useless in a blizzard.
After plodding forth a little while, he found her. Leera had her shield up, right arm draped around Arthur’s waist, body enmeshed in watery elemental armor. Arthur had his left arm around her neck while wielding a summoned lightning mace with his right. Both were wincing from pain and frantically backing away from six soldiers who jabbed at the pair with spears—and it was all they could do to parry or block those jabs. Two bearded warlock men advanced behind the soldiers. One was hurling mind spells, twelve rings of air around his arm. The other had nine rings of earth and was hurling First Offensives that Leera desperately blocked with her shield, though Augum could tell by her drawn face that she had nearly depleted her arcane stamina.
None of them had spotted him yet, for he had stumbled across them at a perpendicular line of sight.
“Summano elementus minimus draco,” Augum spat as he finished drawing the precise shape of the Birth of the Dragon simul. A crackling lightning dragon ripped to life behind the warlocks. “Draco—attack,” Augum commanded, pointing at the air warlock. With a whip of its lightning tail, the dragon tackled the warlock. The soldiers turned in time to have their faces sprayed with the man’s blood as the dragon tore strips from his body like a rabid vulture.
The earth warlock slapped his wrists together. “Annihilo bato!”
Augum instantly summoned his shield and countered with, “Mimicus
—” A high-pitched twang rang out as the dual vine punch shot right back at the warlock. One of the vines missed, but the other stabbed through his heart—a lucky shot if there ever was one. For a moment the man stood there, face painted with surprise, before falling back into the snow, dead.
Augum turned his attention to the six soldiers, using his training to gain tempo, all too conscious of his swollen eye. First, he made a lobbing motion as if tossing a stone while incanting, “Bola lauba.” Three globes of lightning arced from his fingertips toward the clustered enemy. While the soldiers scrambled to get out of the way, he flicked a finger at a spear, sending it piercing through the back of another soldier’s thigh. The man yelped and released his spear to grab at the wound. As he fell to the snow, Augum used his other hand to hurl that spear at a second soldier, lodging it into his chest with a sickly thwoop. Augum then slapped his wrists together, shouting, “Annihilo!” A third man fell, this time with a smoking hole through his abdomen. Meanwhile, the triple lightning globes landed harmlessly in the snow, having served their purpose as a distraction.
Three soldiers remained; two advanced at him while the third jabbed at Leera. As Augum rolled aside to evade the long and deadly spears, he witnessed Leera’s shield fail and disappear after she blocked the soldier’s spear, leaving her defenseless. He also witnessed Arthur bash the soldier’s head in with his summoned mace, sending the young man’s helmet flying as he fell limply to the snow. But then Arthur’s mace was mysteriously yanked from his fingers, instantly disappearing. A moment later, he began drooling, his grip on Leera slipping.
After dodging another couple jabs, Augum searched the area, sensing he had missed something. Between blizzard gusts, he spotted the purple-robed warlock he had apprehended earlier—the man had fought off his Paralyze casting and reentered the fray, an unforgivable breach of the rules of warlock warfare. He had crept up on them, cast Confusion on Arthur, and was now readying to cast a follow-up spell.
Augum’s blood flash-boiled with rage at the dishonorable betrayal of warlock honor. His anger was so great that, after dodging yet another pair of spear thrusts, he shot his arms out, telekinetically grabbed the two men’s heads, and sent them smashing together with such force their heads pulped in their helms, sending up a mist of blood that sprayed into his face. As the bodies fell to the snow, Augum heard the purple-robed warlock shout, “Annihilo bato!” A double whoosh was followed by two simultaneous grunts and the sounds of two bodies falling to the snow.