Mercy's Trial

by Sever Bronny

  She stopped to stand before all of them. “Allow me to disabuse you of that foolish notion. I will make one thing crystal clear—by the time I tracked you down, you would be lucky if there remained enough of your entrails to feed the sacred blue flames for your memorial ceremony!”

  Augum felt the hairs on his skin rise. He had to admit, he hadn’t been taking their coming excursion as seriously as he should have—in fact, none of them had. Never had a lecture been more deserved.

  “I am not finished. Have you not noticed how focused your enemy is? How they have kept to themselves more and more as time has gone on?”

  It was true, Tyranecron’s leadership had inspired the Canterrans. Pigface hadn’t uttered a single word to Augum when they had brushed by each other on the way to their individual training. And Gavinius, despite his earlier rage with Augum for ensuring his father remained mortal, steadfastly ignored him, choosing instead to increase his Telekinesis and reflex training. All the Canterrans had done was throw the occasional cold look, the kind that saw the friends as prey.

  “They will be out there hunting you.” Mrs. Stone glared at each of them in turn. “Hunting you. Considering everything that you have been through, one would think you would have the presence of mind to comprehend that.” She took a deep breath and steepled her fingers. “Dragoon Myrymydion and I shall now confer and finalize the plans for the quest. You are to remain here and squeeze every nuance from your training for these final hours before supper. I advise that you put aside your childish fancies, stop believing yourselves invulnerable, and focus. And I hope I do not need to remind you that one or more of you may not return.”

  She glared at them one last time before she and Dragoon Myrymydion strode off, the globe lamp leading the way, leaving the friends in cold darkness.

  “Shyneo,” Augum said, lighting his palm first, followed one at a time by his friends.

  “Well, that stung,” Leera muttered, watching the distant lamp fade.

  “I’ve never been reprimanded like that,” Olaf said. “Not even when I threw my diaper linens out the window as a babe.”

  “No, let’s not do this again,” Augum said.

  “What do you mean?” Olaf pressed, drawing near Bridget as if she could protect him from Mrs. Stone’s words. Except she was glaring down at her feet in anger at herself.

  “Brush it off. Jest amongst each other. Give the training only the effort required.”

  “Agreed,” Bridget said, looking up with red eyes. She sniffed, repeating, “Agreed,” and stepped away from Olaf—though not without giving his wide arm a reassuring pat. “We need to focus and give it our all here. We have gotten too used to living on the edge and have gotten complacent. Let’s make our training count.” Her eyes met Augum’s and she gave the slightest nod.

  “Right,” he went on, knowing it was time for him to lead again. “We have three hours until supper. Let’s make them count. Focused cycles, at my count. I want your all.”

  And Augum played the commander, dictating the start of spell after spell, including miming the complicated Spirit of the Dragon simul. They only understood the basics of the simul at this time, for it required tuning with a dragon to finish it and then additional training on how to actually sculpt that tuning into a spell. They did not even know how large their summoned dragon would be, or what sort of power it would have, or even how they would control it.

  After, he led a discussion on group combat strategies, followed by individual combat strategies while being in possession of a most precious parcel—a dragon egg. Then they worked on their reflexes, pushing themselves. Lastly, he led a discussion on survival tactics, held in the library, with Akeya overseeing from nearby. The friends paid rapt attention, not allowing their focus to drift—not even to jest in passing.

  At last, with their minds sharp and ready, they attended supper, discovering the Canterrans already sitting in wait, along with Mrs. Stone and Dragoon Myrymydion. As before, the Canterrans kept to themselves, saying nothing, not even casting the friends imperious glances—except for Tyranecron, who studied the companions with the countenance of someone gauging his enemy … or in this case, his prey.

  The meal concluded in near silence. At the end of it, Tyranecron stood first, black-eyed and soulless gaze falling meaningfully on Mrs. Stone. He inclined his head. “Anna.”

  Mrs. Stone stood in response, her flock following dutifully. She too inclined her head. “Tyranecron.”

  “They are conspiring a plan,” Myrymydion stated after the enemy had departed. “A trap in Endraga Ra, perhaps on this very eve.”

  Mrs. Stone nodded slowly. “Mmm.” She swept the group with her discerning gaze. “It is time. Ready your provisions. We meet at your dorm in half an hour.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” the group chorused, and hurried back to the dorm. All their pre-prepared Leyan provisions were arranged on the dining table, enough to last a tenday each. A good third of it was salted Leyan meat and fish of one kind or another, each wrapped in linen. Another third was a type of sweetened journey bread, and the remainder was various kinds of mostly dried-out Leyan fruits and vegetables. Each of them also had a large skin of water, two hundred feet of Leyan-crafted rope for climbing, an academy blanket bedroll and canvas tent, a foot-long Leyan bush knife Mrs. Stone had specially forged for them, extra twine, lots of extra linen for bandaging purposes, and a rough map of the pillars they had explored thus far. In addition, Bridget and Leera would each take their golden Dreadnought breastplates and Augum would bring Burden’s Edge and his training cube. Everything else, such as the Codex Arcanera, the Orb of Hearing, and their cold-weather clothing, would stay behind.

  The friends hustled about with concentrated faces, dividing the portions evenly and packing their rucksacks in an efficient manner. And while Bridget and Leera helped each other put on the golden breastplates, Augum, recalling Arthur and how they needed all the luck they could get, packed a few trinkets—his mother’s locket, a necklace of charms his friends had given him for a previous birthday, the wooden heart with the words special on the front and fool on the back, and Leera’s portrait. He also packed his turnshoes, which he hoped he would be able to put on sooner than later.

  “Object Track time,” Augum announced upon finishing. After Mrs. Stone’s tendril sight training, he could now comfortably enchant four objects and thus chose Leera, Bridget, Jengo and Haylee to track, enchanting their robes. The others chose strategically so that everyone could be tracked by someone. They had been instructed not to save one for Mrs. Stone, as she considered it a waste.

  When Mrs. Stone arrived with Dragoon Myrymydion, they cast a tracking enchantment on each of the friends’ robes, as well as each other. Then she splayed a hand over their rucksacks and uttered an unfamiliar incantation. A glow infused their belongings, one that snuffed with a reverse sucking sound. She followed up by performing the spell on their persons, a rather ticklish experience not unlike ants crawling along their skin.

  “This incantation will hopefully help with minimizing your scent,” Mrs. Stone explained upon finishing. “Although we can hardly expect a minor cleaning spell intended for servant use to deceive a dragon’s nose.”

  “Precautionary protocols,” Myrymydion added. He and Mrs. Stone carried their own rucksacks, each emblazoned with the Helix. “Spacing protocol in effect.”

  “Yes, Dragoon Myrymydion,” they replied, stepping apart from each other. They were to be as independent as possible—no touching, no sharing of food—all to avoid scent contamination.

  They left grim-faced, giving each other a wide berth, each lost to their thoughts. Augum mentally cycled through his spells, profoundly conscious that until he concluded his pilgrimage, all of his simuls would be at half strength—not to mention he would be unable to summon the dragon at all should he be successful in tuning, since it required an undimmed shield. And he reminded himself that he was not to casually reach out to Leera, for that would compromise them both. For this reason, the couples
agreed ahead of time to put another person in between when walking so as to avoid accidental contact. And should any accidental contact happen they were to cover what was touched with mud.

  They entered the Leyan library and found Akeya waiting for them, playing a tense and brooding melody on her vellay.

  “The Canterrans have already entered, Anna,” she said, voice strained as she followed them down to the portal, the music playing throughout like an arena anthem that foretold of challenge ahead.

  “Mmm.”

  They soon stepped onto the platform underneath the great portal to Endraga Ra.

  “You are provisioned and ready?” Akeya pressed.

  “Mmm.”

  “Then I wish you luck and wellness in the journey ahead.” She inclined her head. “Anna. Dragoons.”

  Mrs. Stone inclined her head. “Akeya.” She turned to the portal, took a deep breath, shook out her limbs, and stepped through. The others waited a long ten heartbeats before following.

  The brooding music reached climax when Augum stepped through—and cut off mid-note.

  Cascade

  Peace awaited them on the other side. The three suns hovered low overhead, readying to set, flanked by banks of pink clouds. The air was thick with the scent of tropical flowers. Sharp animal calls echoed between the pillars, a sound dominated by the high-pitched squawks of birds.

  Mrs. Stone was examining the cave, checking for signs of a trap. “A slew of Object Alarm spells, some of which I triggered simply by walking through the portal. They know we have entered. Let us not dally.” She extended her hands and the group quickly linked up in a circle. “Impetus peragro grapa lestato exa exaei,” she incanted, serving as a model of pronunciation even though she was so advanced she could cast the spell inaudibly.

  They appeared a moment later on top of a pillar on the very perimeter of the area they had explored thus far. They had catalogued, mapped and anchored their teleportation orientation to a few handfuls of the closest pillars—out of countless others. Mrs. Stone had climbed all the pillars on her own, giving her the ability to teleport to them—except for one, which she used as a training example for how to properly climb a pillar while camouflaged with a spell or with more traditional means, such as securing palm branches to the body with twine.

  A series of pillars loomed ahead, but the prize they sought rose up in the distance—a range of jagged snow-capped mountains which they hoped to use to spot dragons. Then they planned on using the pillars as teleportation jump-off points to get near. The problem was they still hadn’t seen a single dragon, let alone a nest, hence their need for a higher vantage point. Nor had they spotted the Canterrans or any sign of them, a point Augum had overheard Myrymydion tell Mrs. Stone worried him.

  Mrs. Stone took a seat on a fallen log, unfastened a large scroll map tied to the outside of her rucksack, and splayed it over her knees. She had been slowly expanding upon it during her trips into Endraga Ra, with only a small focal area in the middle currently mapped. In turn, each of the friends withdrew a small copy of the same map.

  “As discussed, today we go for the mountains,” she said, drawing a line with her slender finger as the others stood at arm’s length from each other. They were already sweating in the oppressive and wet heat, not to mention constantly slapping their skin to kill bugs. Augum, a lightning warlock, had it easy in that regard for he could zap bugs with ease. As such, his friends dubbed him the “designated bug zapper.” He thus watched their backs—and was getting good at zapping the little flying beasts, taking guilty pleasure from it.

  A nut-sized bloodsucker—the name they had given the resident mosquitos here, except they were ten times the size and had four needles as opposed to one—landed on Mrs. Stone’s map. Augum instinctively extended a finger and fried it with a bolt of miniature lightning. Olaf then telekinetically flicked it off the map at Haylee, who squealed in terror.

  “Jerk,” she muttered, scowling at him as she wiped the spot on her emerald robe with a cloth. She shared the same color robe with Olaf and Jengo, also 6th degree, while the trio wore their 8th degree amber robes. Augum wondered if wearing such bright and attractive colors was unwise.

  “I wish to skip these next two pillars here,” Mrs. Stone went on, tapping the map, “and ascend the third by nightfall to get a good vantage point on the mountain range, which we shall dub—” She looked up expectantly at them.

  “The Leeranians,” Leera blurted first, and thumbed her chest. “Named after me, of course.”

  “The Leeranians will do fine,” Mrs. Stone said, quilling the name in, something they did on their own maps as well. Akeya had searched for a map of Endraga Ra but had come up empty, allowing them to have a little fun dubbing various pillars and landmarks after themselves.

  “Ugh, she gets a whole mountain range named after herself?” Haylee murmured. “The Tennyson Range would have sounded better.”

  Leera smirked at her. “Should’ve been quicker off the mark, Hayles.”

  Mrs. Stone furled up the map. “Once there, we shall find us a spot to camp that allows us a lookout. Now if you will be so kind as to ready yourselves for the descent.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused. Olaf, Haylee and Jengo, who did not know the Chameleon spell—nor had Mrs. Stone had the time to teach it to them—cut palm and fern branches off the nearby flora with their bush knives and attached them strategically to their backs with twine. It was a rather silly but effective solution, for they descended slowly enough for predatory birds to mistake them as trees. And should a dragon happen to fly by, they were instructed to freeze on the spot.

  As they worked, Mrs. Stone stood shielding her eyes with a hand and surveying the area. Finding no immediate threats, she nodded at Augum. “You first today, Great-grandson.”

  “Yes, Nana.” He readied his rope, tying one end to a nearby tree and the other around his waist. He focused on the Chameleon spell extension preparations and, while passing an open palm over his body, uttered, “Armari obscura chameleano traversa.” Once his body had gone chameleonic, he began descending the rough rock, careful to avoid patches of dirt.

  About halfway down, he reached the end of his rope. After finding a small ledge, he splayed a hand over the rope and, while focusing on the other end, incanted, “Untanglio.” Untangle was a neat off-the-books 1st degree spell Mrs. Stone had recently taught them, one she had learned in her adventurous youth. She had said it got her out of more than one bind, a pun they enjoyed very much.

  He gave the rope a tug, and it came loose and began to fall past him. He telekinetically caught the end before it whipped by, then carefully tied it to a rock and resumed his descent.

  A buzzing began in his ear. He turned his head and noticed a bloodsucker trying to land and stab his ear with its four prongs. The blasted thing could see through his Chameleon spell somehow. He pointed at it and—zap!—fried it with a miniature bolt of lightning. But then more buzzing replaced that one—now two bloodsuckers hovered about. He pointed over his shoulder and allowed his fingers to arc out with lightning, seeking out the intruders while maintaining focus on the Chameleon extension. After a few moments, he heard a satisfying pair of zaps—the lightning had connected, spiderwebbing to both bloodsuckers.

  He began descending again only to hear a much louder buzzing mere feet away. He looked over to see a horizontal recess in the pillar filled with murky water—and a pile of moving twigs in the center of it.

  Only they weren’t twigs. They were bloodsuckers—hundreds of them, all swarming around a giant bloodsucker with a translucent belly sack full of eggs.

  He froze, gaping, absurdly hoping he wouldn’t be seen. But then the mound began collapsing as the bloodsuckers disengaged from the queen and shot at him like a swarm of bees. He panicked, batting at them and arcing lightning from his fingertips, creating multiple frying zaps—and causing him to become wholly visible. His reflex training held them at bay for a little while, but the air quickly began to stink of insect flesh
as they overwhelmed him. He lit his body up with lightning using the 1st degree extension to the Shine spell, yet still felt multiple stings. Then, in his flailing panic, he did the only thing he could think of—he launched backward away from the rock and slammed his wrists together, shouting, “Annihilo!”

  A bolt of lightning blasted through the swarm and obliterated the mound with the queen. He fell but lashed out telekinetically before he could gain too much speed, hooking a rocky protrusion that caused him to swing back against the pillar, slamming into it with an “Oof!”

  For a moment he hung there, arm outstretched. But the buzzing returned—the remaining bloodsuckers were angry and closing in. He looked down and, realizing he only had one chance to escape them, jumped off the pillar, giving himself a gentle push to give distance from its scraggly surface. This time he let himself fall a bit further before once more yanking the pillar with his Telekinesis—but just before he slammed into the wall, he shoved at it while shouting, “Baka!” The spell slowed the yanking rebound just enough for him to telekinetically re-grab the surface and find a foothold.

  Wincing from the numerous stings and amazed at his aptitude and daring, he looked up and saw the cloud of bloodsuckers still swarming toward him.

  “Shoot,” he said, and tried to hurry his descent. There were fifty feet to go before the tree canopy and probably another fifty below that. But if he let go this time, he’d get snapped in half by the rope around his waist, for it would run out of length well before the ground.

  He splayed a hand over the rope, focusing on the knot he had made above. “Untanglio.” The rope loosened and began to whip by. He repeated the spell, this time focusing on his waist. “Untanglio,” and the rope released from his waist as well, falling away completely.

  He heard the buzzing before he saw it and decided to do something desperate—he shoved himself away from the cliff toward the tree canopy, trusting in his mighty Telekinesis. As he fell, he oriented himself to face the canopy, robe whipping in the air.