Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  Bridget gazed up at the portal and shook her head. “Mrs. Stone, you … you built a portal to the dragon plane?”

  “The Arcaners who first made this journey went on a grueling and epic knowledge quest to uncover how to teleport there. The knowledge they acquired was left behind in the archives here, detailed summations that, with help, I was able to translate into the construction of a portal.” She looked up at the oval. “It was an incredibly complex piece of arcanery, one that will save you much time. Stay alert, do not stray, and for teleportation purposes, memorize each location we step into. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the group chorused back.

  “And leave your belongings here. You enter now to establish a frame of reference, as you need to understand what you will be dealing with. Your studies on the subject will rely on that understanding.”

  “You can safely go to Endraga Ra, Nana?” Augum asked, heart bursting with hope as he placed his rucksack with the others. “Does that mean you can come back to Sithesia with us too?”

  “I am afraid it does not, Great-grandson. It is a complicated subject that has to do with the way the binding arcanery is structured relative to the planes. In point of fact—and this is something we as yet do not understand—Endraga Ra is the only other plane we regular Leyans can visit, though we take great risks if we do so, for we place our lives in mortal danger, meaning we could be killed.”

  The friends exchanged worried looks.

  “Rest assured I will do everything in my power to prevent such an occurrence.” She stepped onto the wooden dais. “I will go first. If I do not return within ten heartbeats, consider it safe to enter after me.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Augum chorused along with his friends.

  Mrs. Stone raised her hands into attack position, took a deep breath, and disappeared into the portal with a soft whoosh. Augum stepped up next, counting silently in his head. When the tenth heartbeat came and she hadn’t returned, he entered after her.

  On the other side, he couldn’t help but suck in a lungful of hot and humid and pungent air, for he was looking at one of the grandest views he had ever seen. Before him stood a forest of mountain-sized and malformed earthen pillars that sprouted from a bed of thick tropical foliage. The highest of these pillars, perched on bulbous hills, towered over the others. Trees clung to them like monkeys, their broad leaves a rainbow of hues from yellow and white and blue to pink and black and red. The foliage of the jungle floor was just as colorful, reminding Augum of the academy’s lightning room, beloved by all lightning warlocks yet loathed by anyone else, for the brain simply could not handle so much color, so much vividness. And clogging up his ears was a constant hooting and squawking and chirping and howling of birds and animals, as well as a general background buzz of insects.

  As the others emerged from the portal, they either inhaled sharply or gasped. Each glanced about like a child stepping into a toy store for the first time. Augum suspected that they were atop one of those pillars, the portal nestled in a small cave—and thus well hidden.

  But it was what he saw when he stepped up to the cave entrance that made him slap a hand over his open mouth, for there, far above him, spread in a lazy string across a gently pink sky … were three suns.

  Endraga Ra

  Augum extended a hand to the sky and noted that the three suns were spaced apart one hand width each. The largest sun was on the left and glowed pink, a more intense color of the sky. The middle sun was mid-sized and glowed a gentle orange, and the third was the smallest and glowed as white as ivory, much like the Leyan sun.

  “Unnameables, how can this be?” Olaf asked, sticking close to Bridget as if her intelligence could somehow shield his poor brain from the awesome sight before him. “Is it some sort of grand illusion?”

  “It is not.” Mrs. Stone’s head swiveled slowly as she scanned the distant foliage for threats with a battered spyglass. “You have already witnessed and experienced things warlocks—let alone Ordinaries—would find preposterous. What you see before you will be decried as not only mythology, but blasphemy. For example, in certain mythologies, three suns means you are in the domain of Hell, for three is the witch’s number. Thus, should you choose to share what you see here, you will have to take care how you present that knowledge lest you find yourself burning on a pole.”

  “That’s, uh, not very reassuring,” Olaf whispered in a shaky voice.

  “Responsibility demands a guarded tongue. Now, the only reassurance I can give you is of safety when you step back through the portal, for there are all sorts of wild threats here. There are predators that would haunt your nightmares, beasts that would enjoy nothing more than to feast on your entrails as you sit wide awake, watching the horror before you.”

  “I … I don’t think I’m ready for this,” Jengo gibbered, stepping away from the ledge.

  “No, I daresay you are not,” Mrs. Stone said. “None of you are. But I hope you possess the good sense to know that is what training is for.”

  Leera glanced around. “This cave looks like it’s been here a long time. Is this where the original Arcaners had their portal too?”

  “Astute of you to notice, young lady,” Mrs. Stone replied, making Leera’s cheeks glow with pride. “This is indeed the same location used by the first Arcaners—and no other has ever been used, or so the records indicate.” She turned to the edge of the pillar. “Now look out there, for a harsh reality will be your very first test. In order for you to traverse those pillars and attempt your trial, you will need to know how to teleport.”

  Jengo began to stutter now. “B-but Haylee and Olaf and I are only 6th d-d-d-degree …” His old fears seemed to have come roaring back. “And Teleport is a 9th d-d-degree—”

  “Precisely, my child. Yet the truth is plain before you. Do you think you can scale one of those pillars while being pursued by a giant tiger-like monstrosity with teeth as long as your arm, perhaps even while trying to fight off a giant mosquito with a proboscis the size of a shortsword?”

  “N-n-n-no—”

  “I certainly think not. If you wish to traverse this realm and succeed in your trial, then you need to learn to teleport. This I can teach you in the old way. Choose, and choose now.”

  The trio, who could already teleport, turned toward their friends, who stood shaking in place. Augum knew all about Mrs. Stone’s training in the old way, and just how harsh it could be. He recalled staying up all night in frigid cold, practicing a spell again and again while repeatedly vomiting, nose and ears bleeding. Of those among them, only Olaf hadn’t experienced this style of training.

  Olaf pressed a hand to his already sweaty forehead as he stared at Bridget, who gently said, “It is your choice, Ollie. Do not do it just to protect me, for I’ll have good company watching over me. I have told you before about the old way of training. It is no jest, believe you me.”

  Olaf swallowed hard, face pale as he looked over her shoulder. Then he broke out in a wide grin, drummed his big belly, and declared, “Well, if beasties gnaw on this here blubber, then boy will they ever feast. You tell my cranky old man I got turned into gnat food, he’d enjoy that. I accept the challenge, Mrs. Stone.”

  Haylee glanced down at her bad leg, then looked back up at the pillars and down again at her leg, face obscured by a curtain of blonde hair. “Will I be able to ask Akeya for advice on how to handle … this sort of adversity, Mrs. Stone?”

  “I do not see why not, child.”

  Haylee nodded. “Then I too accept.”

  They looked to Jengo, who had backed against a wall. “T-t-teleport is a 9th d-d-degree spell and so it would be illegal for me to l-l-learn as it’s n-n-not a healing spell …”

  “It would indeed be illegal for you to learn this spell—under non-war conditions. The academy edicts are clear in that regard.”

  “Solia hasn’t officially declared war yet, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget threw in.

  “But we have as Arcaners,”
Augum countered, recalling Bridget storming the Canterrans while shouting a declaration of war.

  Bridget’s eyes unfocused as she seemed to recall that moment too.

  “The choice is yours, young man,” Mrs. Stone said to Jengo. “This is no time for foolhardiness and there would be no shame in backing out. And believe you me, I would much rather see prudence and good sense than your lifeless body.”

  Jengo pressed his eyes shut and took a series of deep breaths. When he opened them, he looked at his friends. “They will need me,” he said softly, and gazed beyond them at the bloodthirsty world awaiting them. “I think … I think I can do this.”

  “Your hesitation is unacceptable, young man. Do not guess. Know.”

  Jengo shakily stepped up to the edge of the cave. Mrs. Stone pointed at a distant pillar ahead of them. “You would perhaps start with that one there, then pursue your prey—” Her hand flicked to pillar after pillar. “—and beyond.”

  “Prey?” Jengo squeaked.

  “In this world, there are only predators. You will need to think like one.”

  Jengo stared out at the strange world, looked back at the five friends standing behind him, nodded, and said, “All right. I’m in.”

  “So be it. Your training begins now.”

  And so it did. Mrs. Stone began by explaining that they needed to be mindful of their surroundings at all times and stick to high ground. She instructed them to get into the practice of leaving both regular and arcane trail markers pointing back to this pillar, suggesting stick arrows and Object Track.

  “Above all, you must memorize each location as if it were your home, for you will need these details to teleport safely.” She went on at length about the fundamentals of teleportation, touching on nuances only one with such experience understood.

  “And Great-grandson,” she added at the end of her lecture, “you will have to be particularly mindful of your step, for you will be bare of foot.”

  “Yes, Nana.” He would summon all his vigilance.

  After a few more well-chosen words on what to pay attention to while teleporting, she group-teleported them to the closest pillar, where they found themselves surrounded by lush and dense foliage that smelled seductively sweet. Augum, reaching out to steady himself with a nearby vine, had his hand telekinetically slapped aside by his great-grandmother.

  “That vine has purple welts, meaning it is poisonous to our skin.” She looked to Jengo. “I presume you have mastered the Remedy Infection Poison Venom spell?”

  “I can confidently say I have, Mrs. Stone, and mostly because we have been dealing with assassins who use poison. Luckily, we haven’t bumped into any in a while.”

  “Be that as it may, Jengo, you will not always be available to come to their aid.” She looked to the others. “You must think preventatively as many things here are poisonous or venomous or who knows what. Be mindful of what you touch.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused. Then, as the friends took careful note of their surroundings, Mrs. Stone wordlessly summoned a lightning-infused quarterstaff into her hands. Augum immediately realized it was the Summon Weapon spell and elbowed Leera, who elbowed Bridget, and the trio gawked as Mrs. Stone effortlessly sliced away branches and vines to clear a path for them, the lightning quarterstaff not hurting her yet obliterating anything it touched with a loud sizzle. It was remarkable because, after all this time, Augum had never seen her summon her weapon.

  “Look there, a pair of eyes,” she whispered when they had crossed halfway to the other side of the pillar. When none of them could find the eyes, she slowly spread the fingers of one hand and the leaves and branches parted, revealing a giant snake lying arcanely frozen in her telekinetic grip. “A python of some sort, no doubt eager to squeeze the breath out of you.” She had Jengo and Haylee telekinetically drag it off the pillar, a task neither enjoyed, for more than one squeal of fright emitted on the fifty-foot journey to the edge. But Augum, who spotted a previously broken branch, realized Mrs. Stone had been on this pillar before and had likely cleared it of its most dangerous critters.

  She pointed at a large pile of dirt the size of an ox cart that stank of rot. “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what that is?”

  “Some sort of termite nest?” Haylee said.

  “Not quite.”

  Leera’s nose crinkled with disgust. “Is that … is that a giant pile of dung?”

  “It is. Note the ash and charcoal. That, my dears, is dragon dung from a fire dragon.”

  The friends shivered before continuing after her. When they reached the other side of the pillar, they spotted, amidst a slew of other pillars, a lake sparkling several leagues away.

  “Note the great gashes.”

  Augum saw that she was referring to what he had presumed were giant fissures in the pillars. “Are those claw marks?”

  “Indeed they are. Now here we shall sit for a time and observe and learn.” She first made them secure the area, something they were already well practiced at, enchanting strategically placed sticks with Object Alarm. But the young-again Mrs. Stone took things even further, demonstrating no less than three varieties of the Craft Trap spell, infusing the first with the Third Offensive, the second with a Fear spell, and the third with Confusion.

  “I am afraid we don’t know the Craft Trap spell yet, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, going on to explain that their Arcaner schedule had not permitted the time.

  “Then we shall have to remedy that as well,” she replied, and immediately launched into a thorough and dense arcaneological explanation of not only the complexities of the spell, but its cunning strengths and points of interest.

  “… and in that way it is very much like the Seal spell,” she explained after casting a Paralyze trap, somehow making visible the arcane tendrils she had woven into a fine webbing, miraculously simplifying the learning process for them. “This longer exterior tendril here, for example, would be your trigger. Should it get tripped by anything—” She slapped her hands together. “—instant death to the unprotected—assuming, of course, that you infused the trap with an Offensive spell. In this case, they would merely paralyze.”

  But the group wasn’t gawking at the trap.

  “Mrs. Stone, how did … how did you make the tendrils visible?” Bridget asked. “I thought such a thing was impossible.”

  “Ah, yes. Tendril reveal is a skill I hope to eventually teach to the more advanced academy arcanists who, if all goes well, will in due time be able to visit once a proper bridge to Ley is crafted. It is but one of a countless number of examples of ancient arcanery sequestered in the great library, waiting to be rediscovered. Imagine how many more pupils could be taught the complexities of arcanery if they were able to see what teachers have been thus far trying to convey through words. Imagine how many Ordinaries possess the gift to learn the arts but think visually, and thus fail at the rote memorization demanded in the academy.”

  She raised a clenched fist and closed her eyes. “Imagine the sheer potential. We speak of multi-generational advancements now. Progression on a scale never before seen. That is my hope—my dream. And it begins like this, in the smallest of ways, with wonder and curiosity—” She opened her eyes to nod at each of them in turn. “—and eagerness.”

  Haylee shook her head in wonder. “Mrs. Stone, this is … miraculous. I never even dared to think such a concept existed, and yet …” She waved at the web of tendrils. “Look at that, I actually understand the complexities of the spell, even though it’s three degrees above my own! I mean, I don’t know how to cast it yet, but I can see it! I can see how it all intertwines!”

  “Historically, there are reasons the skill of tendril reveal was banned, for its aid in training allowed too many warlocks to advance with ease, causing massively unbalanced armies. Further, tyrannical armies began hoarding the knowledge—and we all know that those with great power rarely wish to share that power—causing further imbalance. But I believe that, with the right level of
control and oversight, tendril reveal can benefit all of Sithesia. The other limitation, of course, is that it is a master level skill, meaning that one would have to convince 20th degree masters to spare their precious time training others, something easier said than done. However, it is possible to learn the skill prior to becoming a master, for we already know any spell can be learned by a truly determined pupil.”

  Augum could only gawk at the demonstration. He had seen some incredible things in his short life and yet this almost idle display of the inner workings of arcanery changed everything. And just as Mrs. Stone reached out to clear the enchantment, he shot a hand out, pleading, “Wait, Nana, please, not yet. Let us study it. I’m starting to understand.”

  Mrs. Stone smiled like a teacher watching their student make a breakthrough. While the friends gathered close, trading points of interest about the visible trap enchantment, she got up and paced in a circle to cast a rather complex-sounding protective spell around them. Then she sat back down and crossed her legs, smoothing her robe over her knees. Much like Bridget often did, she curled her long chestnut hair behind both ears. Augum suspected she had cultivated the habit in her youth and it had returned now that she had her luscious long hair back.

  As she began to explain the spell’s nuance, her voice took on an air of unadulterated excitement, and the more nuance she delved into, the more excited she became, until it dawned on Augum that they were looking at the famous Anna Atticus Stone, the one her contemporaries had dubbed the “Arcane Artist,” for here was the zest and passion and precision and pure depth of understanding of a master who knew her subject as intimately as she knew her own hands. Here was the Headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts of thirty-five years, now young again and rediscovering the rapture of teaching.

  “… and note what happens to these particular interior tendrils should you alter a key variable of the trap,” she uttered in a near whisper, brilliant blue eyes dancing from face to face. “For example, imagine that instead of wanting to paralyze the entire person you only wanted to paralyze their legs. Allow me to demonstrate.”