by Sever Bronny
Augum shrugged. “Intuition.”
“Well, don’t get too intuitive. People like their secrets.”
“So what’s the matter?”
“Um …” Olaf’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I told her I loved her.”
Augum stopped lathering Olaf’s feet. “That’s great! How did she respond?”
“That’s the thing … she just gaped at me. It was … weird.”
Augum continued lathering. “Give her time.”
“What if … you know …”
“Don’t worry, she’s not like that.”
“You don’t think she’s only going out with me because she feels sorry for me being fat and ugly and two degrees behind?”
Augum looked up at him. “Ollie, she’s fallen for you because of who you are.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.” Then Augum flashed a devious smile. “Just don’t ever stop cracking jokes.”
Olaf snorted a belly laugh. “I’ve got to watch it around you.”
“I’ve learned a thing or two from that witty girl of mine.”
Olaf snapped his fingers at the floating cube. “And lookie, lookie, someone took to the cookie.”
“That is one practical and thoughtful gift. I feel my Telekinesis strengthening on a daily basis.”
They bantered on about this and that, and Olaf told him how Leera was really “killing it” with Spectral Teleport, how the enemy was keeping their distance but mostly because they were exhausted and beat up from visiting Endraga Ra, how the Leyans were surprisingly cool toward them and didn’t ever show up to watch them or anything of the sort.
When Augum finished, Olaf forgave him in a proper fashion, for which he received Augum’s thanks.
“No, thank you, Three Toes. Feet never felt so clean. My grandkids are going to hear how the most famous warlock legend ever washed grandpa’s feetsies.”
Now it was Augum’s turn to snort. “Get yourself lost and bring in the next victim, would you?”
Jengo was next and mercifully spent his time absorbed in a thick Arcaner-specific book on past healers of the order, reading at a furious pace and mumbling to himself throughout. He only stopped his mumblings to formally forgive Augum, then he sent Bridget in.
“Hey,” Augum said, still kneeling before the stone chair.
“Hey,” she replied, taking a seat. “You look tired.”
He began removing her shoes. “Been a long few days.”
“You’ll have a good night’s sleep and be back at it in the morn. Speaking of which, we start learning the actual simul tomorrow.”
“When do you think we’ll get to finally return to Endraga Ra?”
Bridget shrugged as she fixed her hair up in a ponytail. “Maybe tomorrow? Mrs. Stone and Myrymydion want us to gain as much hands-on training as possible before the final quest, not to mention familiarize ourselves with the plane. She’s genuinely worried about the Canterrans getting too far ahead, though. She seemed surprised none of them have died yet over there.”
“Yeah, and I’m surprised they’ve left us alone for the most part. Tyranecron really has them focused.” Augum began wetting her feet. “Heard Leera’s been excelling at Spectral ’Port.”
“I’m incredibly proud of her. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her so focused before,” and she went on to describe just how well Leera was doing, even earning praise beyond “satisfactory” from Mrs. Stone. “When Mrs. Stone said, ‘Well done, Leera,’ Leera just about lost it,” Bridget said with a fond smile. “Should have seen her face glow.”
And then a comfortable silence passed between them as Augum lathered one of her feet until a mischievous thought came to him.
“You snuck into Olaf’s room yet?”
She gasped. “Augum Arinthian Stone—”
“You did, didn’t you?”
She leaned forward. “I will have you know I would never break the traditions and expectations of our kingdoms by debasing myself in such a manner—”
“Oh, I get it—he snuck into your room.”
Her cheeks instantly flared crimson and he knew he got her. He cracked a grin and began lathering her other foot.
“You fiend,” she muttered, only to narrow her eyes at him. “Wait, how many times have you snuck into Leera’s room?”
“Every chance I got.”
She covered her mouth, scandalized. “You fiend indeed!”
“Hey, I’m on the floor here washing your feet. Give me some teasing leeway, would you, Sis?”
“Leera’s right, you can be a jerk.” But she was smiling.
He scrubbed her feet with a washcloth. “It’s just nice to see you loosen up with someone who genuinely cares so much about you.”
“He’s been helping me deal with things I didn’t realize I needed help with, like me taking the life of a young Canterran back in the library, the one whose hand you held as he died. But Olaf explained how we’re at war, and I’m starting to understand what that means. I was also beating myself up quite a bit about the whole arm-wrestling mess. Ollie was very supportive and helped me get over it by asking me questions without being judgmental. It was … sweet.”
Augum nodded. “That’s quite nice of—”
“And he told me he loves me,” she blurted, then froze, mortified.
He stopped to look up at her, feigning surprise. “That’s … fantastic!”
Her eyes shot to the stairs. “Shh! Not so loud.”
“Did you tell him you love him back?”
She twiddled her fingers in her lap and winced. “Erm … no?”
He resumed washing her feet. “Well, don’t wait too long, if you know what I mean.” Death could claim them at any moment.
Her face darkened. “I do …”
More silence as Augum worked.
Bridget sighed contentedly. “You know, Brother, if the Arcaner thing never works out, you always have a future as a maid.”
He snorted. “Don’t you start now.”
Bridget’s ponytail bobbed along with her head. “Ollie’s been rubbing off on me.”
He smiled remembering her dominating them in the snowball fight. “I can tell …”
She looked at him with suspicion. “He say anything to you?”
“More than I ever wanted to hear.”
Her ears went pink and she froze again, horrified.
“I was teasing again, you can relax. Yeesh, you’re strung tighter than a funeral drum.”
“And you are an utterly loathsome brother, Augum Stone.”
“I know.” He sighed and rinsed off her feet. “Myrymydion’s been teaching me how to run the order. I’m overwhelmed by how much there is to learn. But I’m starting to get an idea of how it’s all going to work. Obviously I’ll have to do a lot of research and studying once we go home, not to mention sort through that overstuffed Arcaner vault, but still, it’s a beginning …”
“That’s fantastic! I’m glad you have a mentor in that regard.”
“You don’t think we should get someone like The Grizzly to run the order? Or even you?”
“Augum, you’ll make an excellent leader, don’t worry. And no one would be a better choice, not even me.”
“What about how I messed up with the choosing of the royal—”
“And you’ve learned your lesson from that, haven’t you?”
“Er … I have, yes.” Most definitely. He was going to ask his great-grandmother’s opinion on the matter—as well as other matters troubling him—but had refrained, mostly because he suspected he knew what she would say.
She smiled. “You’ll be fine. Have faith in yourself.”
“Thanks.” He dried her feet, put her shoes back on and nodded. “That’s that.”
She stood and gripped his shoulders while he remained kneeling. “Augum Arinthian Stone, I forgive you for dimming your shield, and thank you for the sacrifice that you made for the rest of us. We should have all been walking around bare of foot. We should have all
been cleaning privies. It was not fair.” She nodded once. “It was not fair.”
Augum gaped at her. Hearing her say that meant so much.
She winked and smiled. “I’ll send your mischievous other half in,” and she departed, ponytail swinging.
When Leera plopped down in front of him, she crossed her arms, eyes narrow.
“What?” he said, removing her shoes.
“How jealous should I be?”
He stuck out his arms. “This jealous. Extremely jealous. Quivering with—”
She interrupted him by grabbing his robe and pulling him in for a kiss. “You going to sneak into my room again like a thief?”
“Why should I? Already stole your heart.”
Her mouth hung open in shock. “You … little …”
“That was good, eh?” He crinkled his nose in a perfect imitation of her. “Spontaneous too.”
“You are growing out of your britches, mister. How many times have you stolen a peek at that portrait of mine, huh?”
“I have every single detail memorized by now.”
“I bet you do, you fiend.”
He smiled and began rinsing her feet. She curled her toes and squealed when he washed the soles, purposely tickling them, only to receive a light back-handed whap.
“Tell me something,” he said as he worked.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, anything.”
“I can tell you about saving Olaf’s life.”
“He mentioned you beached him like a whale.”
She burst with a laugh. “He did, did he? He tell you it happened twice?”
“Ooh, no, do tell,” he said in a mock-scandalized tone, and she went on to regale him with a fantastical tale of Olaf nearly drowning after cartwheeling off one of the columns while performing a particularly substandard Teleport casting. “It was so bad that Mrs. Stone delivered one of her classic rebukes—” Leera stiffened, placed her fists to her waist and, with an authoritative tone, mimicked Mrs. Stone. “ ‘I would have thought you to possess the good sense to refrain from mumbling the incantation, Olaf. Your mouth is not full of marbles, young man.’ ” Leera chuckled, shoulders bouncing. “Should have seen Olaf’s poor face. You would have thought he had never received a scolding in his life. And this was a mild rebuke, mind you. You know how harsh Mrs. Stone can be.”
Augum listened, enjoying hearing her get so animated, the way her sharp eyebrows danced, the dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, the way she subconsciously adjusted her spectacles. He imagined her back in their castle again, Sir Pawsalot lazily loping about her feet. He imagined seeing Sithesia with her. He imagined carrying her to bed …
Unlike with the others, he took his time washing her feet—to the point she questioned if it usually took that long.
“Are you complaining? Should I stop?”
“Unnameables, no! By all means, take all night. But what you can stop doing is gawking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly like what, fiend.”
“I was just thinking about being back in the castle together.”
“Ugh, we have to free it first. I cannot wait to see the stupid look on that countess’s face when three dragons come a knockin’,” and she went on describing all the creative ways the Von Edgeworths were going to pay, until Augum could no longer keep his eyes open and fell half asleep drying her feet.
“Oh, you poor thing, you’re exhausted,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my love, I forgot how long a day this must have been for you. All right, time to wash up and then straight to bed, mister.”
He grunted and replaced her shoes. “But you have to forgive me first,” he croaked.
“Right, the pilgrimage.” She stood before him and held his cheeks between her hands. “Augum Arinthian Stone, I forgive you for dimming your shield and thank you for sacrificing it for the rest of us. I hope you know that what you did will not be forgotten and shows what sort of man you are.” She kissed his forehead, adding, “Mmm, hold on a moment here—” She kissed his cheeks, inhaling. “Mmm, boy, you smell good—” and continued kissing down to his lips. They made out until she abruptly straightened. “No, not tonight. Tonight you go straight to bed.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Augum sleepily murmured, and allowed his love to haul him to his feet and lead him to his door.
Days Later
“Incorrect, Augum,” Mrs. Stone said, studying the floor where Augum had cast a trap enchantment, her eyebrows furrowed. “Although the primary and secondary tendril formations appear to align correctly, the tertiary formations have deviated since your last casting. The plain fact is that you have once more mispronounced the incantation. You are not concentrating, Augum. It is apparent to me that your thoughts are slothful and perhaps—” Her eyes flicked to Leera, whom Augum had been chatting with only moments before. “—on other matters.”
The venerable warlock’s words hung heavy in the crackling light of her floating lightning lamp. The group stood amongst gray slabs that disappeared into cool darkness, so as to minimize distractions. They had been running cycles and going over simuls since early morning, including the Spirit of the Dragon simul that they had spent the last tenday learning—at least what was available to learn, which was rather limited if not complex. During that tenday, they made quick excursions into Endraga Ra, where they were lectured on survival, how to track dragons, and gained familiarity with the landscape for teleportation purposes. Unfortunately, they hadn’t seen a single dragon, only the gruesome animal remains of their meals.
Augum couldn’t take the silence and thought it best to simply apologize. “Sorry, Nana.”
Mrs. Stone caught notice of the floating cube. “Heavens help me, are you splitting your attention while attempting to cast spells?”
Augum stiffened. “Er … I forgot that I was holding up the cube at the same time, Nana.”
The others, standing in a line beside him, glanced over with raised brows, finding this quite the feat of chronocasting.
Yet Mrs. Stone’s countenance only hardened. “Have you taken leave of your senses? This is no time to preen like a peacock, Augum. We step into Endraga Ra on this very eve. Were you planning on splitting your attention in there as well?”
Augum opened his mouth to reply that, yes, he had indeed been planning on both using the cube and continuing his reflex training, only to realize that she was right—it was a precious waste of his arcane resources.
“Hmm?” When he still did not respond, Mrs. Stone’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Dare I say that sometimes I wonder if you lot take this seriously at all.” She swept her fierce gaze down the line at the rest of them, who stood rigid-straight, avoiding her eyes. Dragoon Myrymydion stood behind her, arms folded across his chest, mustache-tattooed Leyan face like iron.
“For the last tenday,” Mrs. Stone went on, “Tyranecron and his pack have spent all their time in Endraga Ra with but one fatality.”
They had overheard the Canterrans mention the death in passing during last night’s supper. It was one of the younger boys. At least the Canterrans had had the decency to leave his spot at the table empty in honor of his memory. But what Augum remembered most vividly was Edwin’s hand shaking as he quietly spooned his soup.
“In mere hours we are going to hunt down a necromantic dragon so that this one—” Mrs. Stone nodded at a crimson-cheeked Augum. “—can kill it. And then you will all depart on your own egg-hunting ventures in a jungle so lethal even I fear walking through it alone.” She let the significance of her points sink in while patrolling before them, hands behind her stiff back. “Yet you are acting like insufferable teenage schoolboys and schoolgirls. This one thinks he can casually split his attention during life-and-death situations, another one of you prances about like a dilettante at the ball talking about boys—” Haylee’s eyes went wide at being called out. “—one of you questions himself at every given opportunity—” Jengo bit his lower
lip. “—one of you preens like she is the star of a new theatrical production—” Leera mouthed the word “Eep.” “—and one of you cannot seem to stop cracking jests.” Olaf froze as if hit by a Paralyze spell.
Mrs. Stone stopped to stand before Bridget, who kept opening and closing her hands nervously. “And one of you, who I would have thought had the good sense to raise herself above such vapidity, has allowed her attention to stray like a kitten chasing twine.”
Bridget swallowed, having also been called out for allowing Olaf to distract her attentions during lessons, or even crucial casting times. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone, I—”
“Hold your tongue, young lady! You will apologize with deeds.” Mrs. Stone continued her lioness pacing as Bridget shrank. “All of you will. And I believe I now see the problem—you have allowed indulgence to cloud your concentration and your good judgment. You seem to take your lives for granted. May I remind you that you are not doing this merely for your own pleasure. This is a duty. A duty. For your kingdom. For Sithesia. For the families whom you will place your blade before, begging for their forgiveness for not bringing home their son or daughter.”
She paced, glaring at each of them in turn. “You are going to war. Think on that. War. This is not an opportunity for your thoughts to drift on the ocean of teenage infatuation. And you are not ‘the chosen ones,’ nor are you special in any way. Everything you have achieved you have worked for. Nothing has been given to you on a silver platter. Perhaps you fail to comprehend that although we will travel in together, your final quest to return a dragon egg to its parent will be undertaken on your own. What will happen should you fall prey to something with teeth as long as your arm, and you are screaming for help and the ghastly thing is gnawing on your lower torso? Do you think I shall miraculously appear to save you?”
Not one of the friends so much as breathed.
“Hmm? Is that what you think? Has it not occurred to you that you may have to track your dragon for days before finding its nest while lumbering along with its egg in your clutches—and all while trying not to get eaten alive by even the tiniest insect? Perhaps you think a simple Object Track enchantment will miraculously bring me to your side at your mere bleating.”