Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  They shared an anxious look. A witch’s bargain usually meant a warlock got their wish, all right, at the price of arcastration—a stripping of the ability to cast spells. But Augum acknowledged his understanding of the subject was quite limited.

  “Then that kills this avenue,” Leera said, staring numbly ahead. She flipped a hand at the books. “This is all a waste of time. A total waste of time.” She fixed her gaze on Augum. “We need to get to the Seers—”

  “No.” Bridget was shaking her head. “No. Esha told us that they would only give us this as an answer and we’d waste our question, not to mention waste even more time.” She squeezed her forehead. “Let me see what else it says here,” and returned to frantically studying.

  Augum slumped in his seat. He inhaled deeply while rubbing his tired face, then ran his hands through his hair and slowly exhaled. He looked about, searching for ideas. He wanted to recharge and get his mind off things, maybe listen to the Canterrans through the orb to see if he could hear anything.

  “Three Toes is up to something,” Olaf whispered, winking at Leera.

  “Really enjoying the nickname, eh?” Augum said with a grin.

  “I think it’s hilarious. And so opposite of everything they write about you. But also makes you sound like a grizzled warrior.”

  Augum chuckled as he kept searching for ideas. His eyes trawled over their belongings, sitting nearby in a pile. Perhaps it was time to give it a shot. He got up, fetched the Arcaner codex from his rucksack, and dropped the huge tome on the table, causing a bunch of parchments and pages to stir and drawing an annoyed lip-smack from Bridget.

  Augum opened the seven-paneled cover that depicted the primary elements in gem form and began perusing the table of contents. Then he flipped the fine vellum pages to the section titled History … and there between the pages found a faded parchment envelope sealed with a red wax stamp.

  “I know you’re eager to delve into Arcaner mythos,” Bridget said, “but there’s no way you’re going to find anything in there—” She looked up. “What’s that?”

  Augum examined the seal closely. “It depicts the Arcaner crest. The full crest. It has the inscription, the castle, and the dragon. But this crest is slightly different—three dots in triangular formation surround it.”

  Others nearby began to take notice. “That’s the symbol of the witch,” Arthur noted, teetering back on his chair at a nearby table.

  “In this case it could also represent the three Arcaner secret-keepers,” Bridget said, putting down her quill. “They kept the secret of Arcaner dragon-summoning hidden all this time.”

  Augum nodded along. Three Arcaners had always been given the oral history of the order, detailing the fact that dragons could be summoned in the event that the final siege engine awoke … or some other cataclysmic event happened. Only then was it permissible to share the knowledge with the order and bring back dragons so as to defeat the threat.

  “Looks like it’s been sealed for some time,” Leera said.

  Augum flipped over the yellowed envelope. Written on the back in shaky script were the following three paragraphs, which he read aloud:

  On your sacred honor, please safely and discreetly deliver this letter to Senior Arcaneologist Tabitheau at the Library of Antioc.

  Klines’s head popped up at the mention of that name.

  To Senior Arcaneologist Tabitheau: The fall of the Arcaner order is inevitable. As a devout disciple of history, I beg you, in humility and anguish, to respect the following dying wish: may the seal of this letter be broken only by a future Arcaner. I only hope that such a day comes.

  I enjoyed our many fireside chats over tea, but we shall never meet again, for I am no more. May you live the rest of your days in the peace I could not find.

  —HCCIII.

  Underneath, in a different hand and in big block letters, was written ACCEPTED.

  A curious Klines drew near. “Senior Arcaneologist Tabitheau occupied the post previous to Senior Arcaneologist Ning. But I do not know what HCCIII stands for.”

  The trio exchanged a look before chorusing, “Chauncey!”

  Charles Chauncey the Third had been headmaster of the academy almost a hundred years ago, when the nobility had finally succeeded in eliminating the Arcaner course. He had been an Arcaner and the only surviving secret-keeper, the other two having been murdered, presumably, by Whisper Blade assassins. On the last day of his life Chauncey had frantically written down a portion of Arcaner history and cleverly hidden it behind the crest in the Arcaner dorms, accessible only to other Arcaners. Injured, he then fled, hoping to pass the secret on to two other Arcaners, making them secret-keepers as well and continuing the tradition. Unfortunately, he had met a grisly end at the hands of the Whisper Blades before he was able to do so.

  “Chauncey must have sent this letter before writing the other one,” Bridget said. “In case something should happen.”

  Augum felt the edge of the seal. “And something did happen.”

  “And then the order died,” Leera added, “explaining why no Arcaner came for this letter.”

  Their excitement had drawn a crowd, all of whom gawked as Augum carefully cracked the old wax seal and gingerly withdrew a small letter. As Herzog’s quill furiously scribbled away, he read it aloud.

  “ ‘The following is strictly for the eyes of the triumvirate—the three secret-keepers. Should Orion ever rise again, there is a high probability that those responsible for its rise will realize it could suffer the same fate as its two brethren. To arm themselves against this, those responsible may attempt to accomplish what only a few in history have been able to accomplish—’ ” Augum lowered the letter with shaking hands, unable to finish reading the last portion because his throat had closed up.

  “May I?” Leera offered, and Augum allowed her to take the letter from his hands. She paled upon reading the last bit to herself, but then cleared her throat and concluded, “—‘summon dragons using necromancy.’ ”

  Vaultus

  The group descended into a chaotic babble as everyone began raising questions about what they had just heard. Precisely how could the Canterrans summon dragons using necromancy? Were there dead dragons in the ground that would make this possible? Was there a necromantic spell they had uncovered that allowed them to summon dragons from the dragon realm, perhaps akin to summoning demons from Hell? And lastly and most obviously, was this the reason for the Canterran scholars combing over the library?

  While they discussed the matter, Augum got up to pace and think, Bridget joining him soon after. Herzog steadily hovered closer and closer with his quill, which hadn’t ceased scribbling. He rubbed his beard as he continued to mutter under his breath, dictating to the quill what needed chronicling, eyes blinking rapidly as he studied Augum and Bridget.

  The pair of friends paced in opposite paths, intersecting now and then to lob ideas at each other.

  “We haven’t discussed it in ages,” Augum began, “but Chauncey’s first letter revealed that there were once eight primary elements—”

  “—with the eighth being necromancy,” Bridget threw in as she passed him.

  Augum caught a snippet muttered under Herzog’s breath. “… and the two famed Heroes of the Resistance traded thoughts, perhaps hoping to arrive at a conclusion that would point the way through the fog of uncertainty that plagued their times …”

  “But is that why Path Archons have black arm rings?” Augum asked on the next pass, forcing himself to ignore Herzog. “Simply because they began studying necromancy?” It didn’t quite add up.

  Bridget bit her lip. “But they aren’t really necromancers in the traditional sense, are they? They seem to be doing something else, something more along the lines of … demon-worship?” She shook her head, unsure.

  Behind them, the discussion heated up. Augum tried not to look at the way Arthur stared at Leera while she was arguing with him.

  Eventually he froze, realization dawning.

&nbs
p; “You have it?” Bridget asked, approaching him while holding herself as if cold. “Aug?”

  Augum closed his eyes so that he could focus better. “Sepherin is a tactician. He feels like he has no choice but to pursue necromancy. Think about it—he doesn’t have Arcaners fighting on his side, he has an ancient siege engine that feeds off of warlocks in order to function … and he has Whisper Blades.”

  “Right, he’s made his bed.”

  “The answer to the riddle continued to elude the pair of heroes,” Herzog muttered.

  “No, I’m telling you, necromancy was one of the primary elements!” Leera shouted at Arthur before tearing herself away to join Augum and Bridget, muttering angrily to herself. “Catch me up on what you two have been yapping about. I need—” She looped a finger around her temple and flashed Arthur an annoyed look that pleased Augum. “—brain stimulation or something. Ugh! Fool doesn’t believe that—” She abruptly whirled to face Esha, who happened to be watching them. “Hey, uh, Ancient One, is necromancy one of the original primary elements or not?”

  The crowd hushed as all eyes turned to the last living Dreadnought, a being born ten thousand years ago.

  “It is.”

  Leera narrowed her eyes at Arthur, whose shoulders slumped, before turning to Augum and Bridget and placing a hand on their shoulders. “Now fill me in before I explode.”

  “Not much to tell, really,” Bridget replied, but nonetheless passed on what she and Augum had considered thus far. By the time she finished, Leera was frowning and shaking her head. “But what does it mean?” she asked, searching their faces. “What does it mean?”

  “… and while the others had fallen as silent as a winter valley listening to Dragoon Stone’s and Dragoon Burns’s explanation, Dragoon Jones struggled to wrap her—”

  “I am not ‘struggling’ with it!” Leera snapped at Herzog, prompting him to raise a furry brow. “I’m merely … pontificating. Wait, that’s not the right word …” She reddened, blurting, “Never mind.” Then she pressed her fists to her waist. “Look, it’s great to theorize about how they could be using necromancy to bring dragons back, but it hasn’t gotten us any closer to finding the correct ritual to take us to Ley. The hourglass is trickling and they could burst in here any moment. Come on, people, put your heads together and focus here. Mingle and talk and brainstorm. Just … get it done.”

  “Smartest thing someone’s said around here in ages,” Maxine muttered, striding back to her lone table to continue researching on her own. The others, after glancing toward the dark and distant end of the room, begrudgingly did the same, though this time they shared ideas more readily, cross-referencing each other’s work.

  Bridget, Olaf, Augum and Leera sat back down at their table, with Augum going back to study the codex, wondering what else it contained. But before he could start, his eyes fell back on the letter. The word triumvirate stood out. He’d seen that word before in the codex, somewhere right at the beginning. He flipped the tome back to the table of contents, soon discovering that the very last chapter was titled Triumvirate.

  “Well I’ll be,” he said, and flipped to the end of the book, only to gasp, for staring him in the face, under three golden dots in triangular formation and the outline of three hands, was a golden rune—except it was scrambled.

  “It’s a kargeyasnara!” Augum blurted, capturing everyone else’s attention and drawing them over.

  “A what now?” Brandon asked.

  “A slip rune sequence puzzle,” Leera said as Bridget dropped her quill and beckoned like a child starved for a treat. “They went out of style centuries ago because they’re horribly complicated to craft.”

  “Look at her light up,” Olaf said, shoving things aside as Bridget telekinetically dragged the huge tome before her, eyes poring over the page, mouth open in wonder. “So adorable.”

  “May I take a look at it?” Klines asked.

  “Please,” and Bridget got up, allowing Klines to take her place. The tiny woman adjusted her beetle-like spectacles and splayed a hand over the text. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.” She furrowed her eyebrows as she studied the jumbled mess. “Now this is rare. This is not just a kargeyasnara. It is a kargeyasnara ciphera.” She extinguished her palm. “A password-locked rune.”

  She went on to explain how it could be triggered to reform when the correct password or phrase was uttered. Everyone then put their heads together, blurting out various words while placing lit palms against the page. Even Esha was queried, yet nothing triggered the rune to reform. Leera, who enjoyed solving puzzles and took Cryptography class in the academy, spearheaded the endeavor, suggesting all sorts of ideas on how it could be triggered.

  While the other Arcaners took turns placing lit palms onto the page and saying whatever came to mind, Augum reexamined Chauncey’s letter. Interestingly, there seemed to be an unusual amount of empty space below the words, which were themselves written unusually high on the page. On a hunch, he splayed his hand above the letter.

  “Un vun deo,” he incanted, casting the 1st degree spell Unconceal. He soon extinguished his palm when he failed to feel the telltale arcane pull of something purposefully hidden. But then he remembered that Unconceal only uncovered things that had been hidden ordinarily—not anything hidden arcanely.

  He refocused on the Reveal spell. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus.” To his utter surprise, words lit up in the blank space.

  “There are invisible words here!” he exclaimed, and began reading as the others rushed over. “ ‘Hark, future Arcaner! I write this predicting the worst—the death of our beloved order. I hope it will not be an eternal death, instead, as with the snow bears of the north, merely a hibernation. This letter assumes that you made it through the Arcaner trials and accomplished the rank of dragoon. Hopefully you will not have done this alone—I pray that there are at least three of you, ideally more.’ ”

  “Try six of us, Headmaster Chauncey!” Leera crowed.

  “With two more back at the academy,” Olaf added, referring to Alyssa and Laudine.

  Augum read on. “ ‘For the order to be reborn, you will need to appoint a new triumvirate—three new secret-keepers to carry on the order’s ancient secret, a secret that must be protected at all costs. A secret that, Unnameables willing, would never need to be uttered beyond the initial cozy circle of the triumvirate. Once a new triumvirate is chosen, flip to the back of a book called Codex Arcanera, which is safely in the hands of the Senior Arcaneologist at the Library of Antioc. The password is the entire code of honor. Dark shields are to be replaced by competent Arcaners who reflect the ideals of the order.’ ” He grimaced. “Hmm, guess we’ll find out what that last part means in a moment.”

  Mr. Goss clapped Augum on the back. “Well done, Augum! Well done indeed. You exemplify the library motto of inquisitiveness. I could not be prouder of you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Goss,” Augum sheepishly replied as more congratulations poured in.

  Olaf raised his chin imperiously. “And I think everyone knows who the three secret-keepers should be, of course.” He thumbed at himself. “Me, me and me.”

  When the laughter settled down, Bridget turned the book to face Augum. “I think we can all agree on who deserves the honor of being the first secret-keeper.” One of her brows rose. “What do you say, Brother-in-war?”

  “I humbly accept, Sister-in-war,” Augum replied, chest tight and cheeks burning.

  “And Bridget and Leera absolutely have to be the other two,” Haylee chimed in, to which there was a hearty rumble of agreement.

  While the pair blushed, Augum once more noticed the triple side-by-side outline of hands on the page, and he stood up. “How about we do it together.” He beckoned for Bridget and Leera to join him, which they giddily did while their friends exchanged heartwarming looks.

  But there was a problem—this was for the triumvirate’s eyes only, and despite knowing his friends were eagerly waiting to see what happened next, Augum knew th
at he would be failing the order if he shared it with anyone else.

  He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Um, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to, uh, excuse us for this next part.”

  “Right, of course,” Haylee said, yanking on Arthur’s and Cry’s robes and tugging them away. “This is strictly triumvirate business, and for the sake of the order, you three need to do this alone.”

  “We’ll find a quiet corner,” Bridget said, eyebrows soft as she glanced around at them. “You all don’t mind, do you? It’s not that we don’t trust you—”

  “Of course we don’t mind,” Olaf blurted, making an imperial Off with you motion. “You don’t need us peasants overhearing privileged information. No, but seriously, you go on ahead. We all understand, don’t we?”

  There was a slew of nods and yeses, and after everyone wished them good luck, the trio took the codex to a quiet and unseen corner, placing it on a study table before them.

  “Here goes,” Augum said, readying his palm and nodding at the girls, who flanked him.

  “Shyneo,” they chorused, and their hands burst with lightning, water and earthen light. They placed their shining palms on the three outlines of hands. Then, line by line, they uttered the edicts of The Sacred Chivalric Code of the Arcaner.

  Thou shall never refuse a challenge from an equal.

  Thou shall never turn thy back on a foe.

  Thou shall always show thy stripes before thine enemy.

  Thou shall not duel the lower ranks without serious provocation.

  Thou shall be gallant and fair to those unable to learn the craft.

  Thou shall never take the life of a weaponless Ordinary.

  Thou shall always accept a bent knee.

  Thou shall give succor to widows and orphans and beggars.

  Thou shall refuse pecuniary reward for doing thy duty.

  Thou shall fight for the welfare of all.

  Thou shall guard the honor of the arcane craft.

  Thou shall seek knowledge that contributes to the craft.

  Thou shall preserve and honor the Hallowed Trust.