by Sever Bronny
“She is indeed,” Brandon replied, cracking his knuckles.
“Ooh, he cracked his knuckles like a dumb brute,” Bridget said with a head bob that seemed to lightly mock Leera, causing her to snort. “I guess I should be terrified now, shouldn’t I? Poor helpless little lady me is shaking in me shoes.” Bridget shook her limbs, though it looked rather ridiculous, like an aspiring bully trying to be mean for the first time.
“Is that supposed to be an impression of some sort?” Brandon asked before lunging at her. But Bridget was once again too quick, this time expertly reversing the pot and shoving it over Brandon’s head, much like stoppering a bottle. He collided with her and they fell to the snow in a heap.
Everyone rolled at the sight, roaring with laughter, for Brandon just lay there, moaning pitifully with his head jammed inside the pot. Even a grumpy Maxine had to turn away to prevent anyone from seeing her smile. But Bridget laughed hardest of all, face smeared with goop, cuffs dirty. She laughed as she rolled Brandon off of her, laughed as he sat up, his rather timid protestations echoing inside the pot, laughed as he struggled to free himself of the trap, and positively roared as he finally managed to pop it off his head with a wet shloop, revealing a befuddled look and a stew-smeared head—and she kept laughing, face now tucked into the crook of her elbow, even as they heard a thwomp, indicating Secretary Klines’s arrival.
Klines, who had deep rings under her eyes, dumped a rough linen sack to the snow and scowled at the mayhem. “Do I even want to know?”
As the laughter slowly settled down, Olaf crawled over to his girl and lay his head onto her chest. She laced an arm around his neck and placed the other arm up behind her head, creating a pillow.
“Someone looks mighty proud of herself,” Klines remarked at the sight of her.
Bridget once again bobbled her head in a self-satisfied Leera-esque way. “Just had to take care of some ruffians while I filled me belly.”
“ ‘Me belly?’ ” Klines, whose first name actually was Prudence and who rarely smiled herself, placed her hands on her hips and played along. “Who is this imposter and where is the kingdom’s precious Bridget? Hmm? What have you filthy beasts done with her? What vicious curse has turned her into this … vagrant?”
“We played Queen of the Castle,” Mary said, brushing snow off herself.
“Rather Queen of the Pot,” Brandon muttered, washing his face with snow.
“And Bridget whupped our butts,” Leera added, sitting beside Augum and nursing her own snowy wounds.
“That is because she is a fierce lioness and you all should have known better.” Klines gave a stern nod, apparently forgetting there was a real lioness among them. But Esha did not seem to mind as she was still quite amused by what had transpired.
After the combatants finished wiping stew from their hair and faces, Brandon smoothed his hair back. “So how many of the ingredients did you get, Secretary Klines? Please say all of them.”
Klines sighed. “I am sorry to report that I only managed to acquire two. The library is in a state of chaos and I was forced to spend most of my time hiding attendants, including Leland and his father, as well as staying out of sight. Luckily the library has many a secret passageway.”
She nudged the sack with her foot. “A chunk of moonstone and a bar of gold, courtesy of Senior Arcaneologist Ning, no less. As furious as she was about the damage in the library—not to mention the fact that she has to spend the next tenday bamboozling Canterran minds to make them think she had nothing to do with what happened—she still provided her support. I truly wish I could have done more, but the Canterrans are swarming the place. Some are even looting it.”
“Then we’ll have to do what we can to get the remaining ingredients using the Group Teleport scrolls,” Augum said, and thanked her for her contribution. Others chimed their thanks as well, but Klines raised a hand.
“I am afraid I have to leave you. The library is in dire straits, and I have a lot of atoning to do—if I can continue keeping out of the Canterrans’ sight, that is. The senior arcaneologist only asks that you quietly return the Ancient One back to the library at the earliest possible time. How many Group Teleport scrolls do you have left?”
“Five, Secretary Klines,” Bridget replied.
“Good. Again, I am sorry I am unable to help you further, but the senior arcaneologist is right—the knowledge in the library must be preserved at all costs.” She looked around at their fallen faces. “You will be fine. And if you ever doubt yourselves, just remember how important what you are doing is. Now stand so we can properly say goodbye.”
Delegation
After Klines had gone, Augum fetched the ingredient list from his rucksack, already having an idea of how he wanted to do this.
“All right,” he began, splaying the list on his knees. “Tonight’s our last full moon, so we need to have all the ingredients prepared by evening—”
“Should I slit my wrists now or later?” Maxine snapped, scowling, only for Augum to realize it wasn’t a scowl at all, but her attempt at a smile.
The group gawked at her.
“Did … did Maxine just tell a joke?” Leera asked.
Olaf nodded gravely. “A morbid one, but yes, I think she did. And if I’m not mistaken, that weird-looking thing on her mouth is a smile.”
The friends burst with laughter, nodding in approval at a beet-red Maxine, whose lips were now firmly pressed together as if she was afraid another smile may slip out.
“All right, settle down, people,” Augum said, noticing her discomfort. “We’ll figure out the part about Maxine later.”
“What about the enemy body?” Arthur pressed.
“I was thinking we use two Group Teleport scrolls later to snatch a particularly evil Canterran from a guard post and teleport him back for the ritual.”
Arthur grabbed his salt pouch and swallowed while the companions stirred uneasily.
“Yeah, I’m not comfortable with it either,” Augum muttered, wondering how they’d even identify a particularly evil Canterran. “But let’s ignore the whole enemy and friend body thing for now and focus on tackling the other ritual ingredients.” He stabbed the parchment with a finger. “Black soul amulet and a piece of Dreadnought equipment.” He looked up. “Anyone have an idea what sort of amulet that even is?”
After a thoughtful pause, Jengo opened his mouth to say something when Esha beat him to it.
“It is the trapped soul of a criminal used for nefarious necromantic purposes.”
Heads turned to where she serenely sat beside Herzog and Cry, both of whom scribbled away. For a moment, no one spoke.
“The warlock black market,” Jengo said. “That’s where we can get it. I know because healers are taught to reverse some of the curses involved with such items. I volunteer myself. It will be difficult to acquire and I might have to teleport back to Antioc to try their markets. Not to mention it will be very expensive. Same goes for the piece of Dreadnought equipment. We can buy the tiniest dagger for a few hundred gold.”
Augum nodded. “Do it. What do you need?”
“Money, three scrolls in case Blackhaven is a bust, and someone with a glib tongue.”
“I have the money,” Bridget said, and rolled Olaf off of her.
Olaf daintily pressed a hand to his chest. “Ugh, that is not how you treat people,” he quipped with a false lisp.
“Oh, hush, you,” Bridget said, though she was secretly smiling.
“And I volunteer myself as the glib tongue,” Olaf added, heaving himself up with a groan. “I’ll go with him.”
“Good,” Augum said. “You two keep your scrolls on you and take Mary’s as well.”
Mary dutifully fetched her scroll and handed it over to Jengo, who then conferred with Bridget on how much money to bring—and if they had an abundance of one thing, it was money, courtesy of the academy coffers.
“We’ll leave right away and return no later than the sixth afternoon bell,” Jengo absent
ly said after the money was settled, studying his Group Teleport scroll.
Augum referenced the list. “Next item … the beak of a freshly caught spearfin squid.”
Leera slapped her forehead. “Oh no, it’s exam time all over again.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.
“Leera and I had to each catch one for our 7th degree water exams last term,” Mary explained. “It was hard because we had to swim out into the Western Salt and wait until they came to the surface to feed.”
“Why the beak of a spearfin squid?” Brandon asked. “And can’t we get it in Crimson Tooth?”
Augum unfurled the ribbon on the black ritual scroll, taken aback by its incredibly complicated nature. “Something to do with ‘evils of the deep,’ whatever that means.” The writing was heavily slanted and the ink was a dark brown, making it difficult to read. It looked suspiciously like old blood.
He furled the scroll back up as he didn’t have the energy to study it right now.
“You won’t find it in town,” Mary said.
“Why?” Brandon pressed.
Mary cocked her head at him, raising one eyebrow as if he was dense. “Uh, because it’s poisonous? You got to dive for it.”
Brandon shivered. “Thank the gods it ain’t me going, I hate deep water. I find it spooky. How, um … how big is a spearfin squid?”
“The babies are only a couple feet long,” Mary replied, as if talking about nothing more than the weather.
“And, uh … and the adults?”
Mary shrugged. “Thirty feet or so.”
The non-water warlocks of the group exchanged looks, but Leera waved their anxieties aside. “Relax, Mary and I have already done this. We’re a few leagues off the coast of the Dragon Sea. If we start walking now, we should hit their feeding time.”
“How will you survive the cold?” Augum asked.
“We’ll be fine in the water, but we’ll need a fire to warm up once we get out.”
Augum pronged two fingers between Maxine and Arthur. “I want you two to watch over them and keep a fire going. Can you handle that?”
They nodded.
Leera playfully punched Maxine’s shoulder. “Perfect time to become best of friends, eh, Max?”
“Don’t call me Max.” But then she looked at Mary, who had saved her life in the library. “But I … I will do my duty.”
“Excellent.” Augum referenced the list. “That leaves an unpaid-for cup of mead and a dab of black nettle poison, not to mention securing passage to Moonhook Isle. I’ll choose someone to help me take care of all three in Crimson Tooth.”
“Why don’t you have Jengo and Olaf grab the poison?” Haylee asked.
Augum shook his head. “Would draw too much attention.”
“He’s right,” Jengo replied without looking up from his scroll. “The amulet is going to cause enough of a stir as is. Augum can do it. It’ll be a bit tricky, but it’s not exactly uncommon, and Crimson Tooth has an unsavory reputation.”
Now all Augum needed was someone competent with him. “Hey, Sis, want to join me on a little excursion?”
Bridget smiled. “Absolutely.”
“How are we doing for money?”
“We should have enough.”
“Good. We’ll need the rest of you—” He looked to Brandon, Cry and Haylee. “—to hold camp and guard Mr. Herzog and Esha.”
Cry looked to Haylee and sheepishly smiled. When she pretended not to notice, he awkwardly changed tack to nod at Herzog. “A great opportunity for a lesson in chronicling.”
Herzog’s lips thinned as if he did not quite relish the thought.
“And a great opportunity for a nap,” Brandon added.
“No, I want you alert,” Augum said.
“I was jesting, boss.”
Augum, seeing the old Brandon who used to be his best friend, grinned at him. “Of course you were.” He got up, smoothed his robe, and glanced around at them all. “We meet back here in the evening, aiming to be on the water by the eighth evening bell so that we can sail or row by cover of night.” Sailing would be vastly safer, of course, but would hinge on who they found in town. “We want to be on Moonhook Isle by the tenth hour. We can study this—” He held up the black scroll. “—on the boat.”
They got themselves ready for departure, then met up by the fire to say their goodbyes. As Bridget and Olaf hugged, Augum drew Leera near.
“You sure you’ll be all right?” Augum asked. The thought of her and Mary’s underwater quest made him anxious.
“I could practically live in the water for months.” She kissed him. “Good luck, be careful, and I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered back, kissing her again. “And we’ll be careful, promise.” He looked to Arthur and Maxine. “Burn a hot fire and watch over my girl.”
Arthur nodded gravely. “We’ll get it done.”
Leera beamed proudly at Augum for discarding his jealousies.
The rest shook hands or hugged before the various groups parted ways.
Augum and Bridget waved at those who remained by the fire almost until they were out of sight.
“You know, I was hoping we’d be in Ley by now,” Augum said once they hit their stride in the snow. “Come to think of it, I was rather hoping this whole quest was going to be …”
Bridget raised an eyebrow at him. “Easier?”
He nodded. “I suppose The Grizzly warned me it wouldn’t be a leisurely stroll.”
“Truth be told, I thought it’d be easier too.”
He snorted. “I envisioned myself commanding a dragon by now … or maybe riding one. Or something like that.”
“Now that’s being a bit hasty.”
“I know.”
The pair soon found a cart-tracked road leading south and walked in silence through a snowy wood. The clouds trawled overhead and a fine mist threatened to thicken into fog.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to check on the orb,” Augum said. They stopped as he withdrew the Orb of Hearing from his pocket and carefully unwrapped the silentium silk. He placed it next to his ear and was surprised to hear a woman’s voice on the other end saying, “Contact Augum Stone, can you hear me?” The bored and repetitive voice sounded rather young—and Canterran.
Bridget, seeing his expression, pressed her ear to the other side of the orb.
The woman yawned loudly into the orb before resuming. “Contact Dragoon Augum Arinthian Stone, can you hear me, Lord Stone?”
“Yes, I can hear you,” Augum replied, feeling bold and curious.
There was a crash on the other side as if the girl had fallen off of her chair. “M’lords!” she shrieked amidst frantic sounds of chair-squeaking and parchment-scrambling. “M’lords—! It’s him! Path help me, it’s him! You! Fetch His Highness. Go, you fool!” Hurried footsteps quickly faded down a hall. The young woman cleared her throat as her voice got nearer. “Uh, are you still there, Lord Stone?”
“Yes, who is this? Where are you?”
“I’m only a servant, m’lord Stone. His Highness is on his way. I’m not permitted to speak to you. Please wait, m’lord. Please, otherwise my master will—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “—beat me.”
Augum exchanged a look with Bridget. “I will wait.”
“Oh, thank you, m’lord. Thank you.”
Although Augum could hear the girl breathing quickly, he refrained from asking more questions, not wanting to get her into trouble.
“That him?” growled a gruff Canterran voice Augum instantly recognized as belonging to Prince Gavinius Sepherin. He recalled the brutish goatee, those golden eyes, and the twirl of a white-robed sleeve.
“Y-yes, Your Royal Highness.”
“What are you?”
“I’m just a stupid girl. A very stupid girl.”
“Path right you are. Give it over already, wench.”
“Yes, m’lord—I mean, Your Royal Highness—sorry.” She yelped. “Path I said I’m sorr—�
�� A struggling sound was followed by a loud slap. The girl burst into tears and scurried off, crying hysterically.
“This you?” Gavinius barked. “Answer me, is this the so-called dragoon I handily whipped in the library? The one with the diluted Arinthian blood? The one who dared to kidnap my brother? Answer me!”
Augum’s blood boiled from the way this mule of a supposed royal had treated a young subordinate. “I rather recall strangling you almost to the point of—”
“You got lucky and you know it! It shall not happen again, Arinthian. You mark my words that I shall not go as easy on you at our next encounter.”
“I look forward to it.” And I will be ready.
“Listen to me very carefully, boy. I am His Royal Highness Prince Gavinius Mercel Frankephelius Sepherin the First—”
“Rather presumptuous that your lineage is worthy of succession, don’t you think?” Augum spat, drawing a pointed look from Bridget. He immediately realized his error—this man sounded like the type to take out his frustrations on the subordinates closest to him, which meant that unfortunate girl.
“You dare mock me, you little stain of manure, you Solian upstart? I am heir to the empire. You think about that, you little worm. Heir to the empire. You listen to me and you listen close—we know exactly what you are doing. You think we do not know?”
“I don’t think you know,” Augum cut in, now almost amused at the frothing rage he was hearing on the other end.
“You are trying to get into Ley. Oh, yes, we know. We know all about pitiful Arcaners and their pitiful plans to bring back dragons. Let me tell you something—it is not going to happen.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because I am not like my brother. I am not a coward. I will annihilate you and those little harlot wenches of yours. Path knows if I had it my way I would grind your castle into dust.”
Augum felt his blood racing again, felt himself getting goaded into saying something he may regret later. But he held his tongue and decided to try getting something useful instead.
“Are you a necromancer?” he pressed.
Gavinius chortled. “You will see soon enough.”
“Why are you studying necromancy? Why are your rings black? What is the purpose of a Path Archon?”