by Sever Bronny
The trees and brush crashed and cracked and groaned as the dragon stepped onto the pillar. The closer it neared, the more Augum felt a nauseous fear rise up his throat, the effect of its Fear aura—and it was strong, as if an iron golem were pounding on the door of his Jengo-amplified Mind Armor. His nerves sparred with that aura, holding it at bay like archers defending a castle. And with the dragon’s proximity came a barbarous necromantic stench, as if someone had spilled barrels of meat left out in the sun for days. The stench was so putrid it was all Augum could do not to vomit.
Keep it together, remain focused, he told himself as he glimpsed enormous black wings settle onto the brush. Mercifully, the monster stopped about twenty feet away to observe. He could only hear its breathing, a deep and rhythmic rumble. Even the local wildlife, usually as loud as a symphony of horns, had fallen silent, as if knowing the mightiest beast of them all was near.
Augum’s mind split into two—the primary part maintaining focus on his Mind Armor and making sure the door did not crumble, and the secondary part maintaining focus on being absolutely still. Had this been any other enemy, perhaps he would have dared to split his mind into yet a third partition that would have reviewed all the possible ways discussed to kill a dragon, most of which used cunning arcane traps constructed from the terrain. But Augum decided to play it safe.
The pillar rumbled as the dragon shifted, and there came a rattling from all about. In his limited field of vision Augum saw creatures that had long lay dead begin to reform—he saw smear marks reform into insects, bones slither across the ground only to reassemble into decayed rodents, a parrot-like bird rise from a pile of leaves, one wing missing, the rest all bones. And these things began to totter about in search of the disturbance. There was even an anteater-like creature the size of a small horse, though thankfully it thumped along in the other direction. A small bush the size of a cat—a smaller version of the thing he had thrown his dragon elemental at—slithered toward him, its stump broken. And directly in front of him, a snail-like monstrosity with teeth—because everything in this cursed jungle seemed to have teeth—slithered down the trunk toward his face.
A sharp pain exploded in his right foot and continued to nibble in pulses—something was gnawing on him. Yet he knew if he so much as moved a muscle, the dragon would discover him, and he stood no chance fighting it head-on. And so he gritted his teeth and took the pain.
Meanwhile, the snail and the walking bush neared. Just as the snail reached his nose, he exhaled a quick sharp breath, blowing it right off the trunk.
The dragon stirred. The pain in his ankle increased, yet he remained dead still.
The walking bush at last reached his other foot and began probing. Any moment now the thing would attack him, and he was not sure he could prevent a reaction.
And then, with a simultaneous crick, all of the beasts fell at once, disassembling where they lay. The dragon gave a breathy snort that stirred the bushes and withdrew. The pillar rumbled and the Fear aura subsided. Only when all was silent did Augum dare to peek around the trunk of the tree he hid behind. The dragon was gone, having slithered down the far side of the pillar again.
Augum sank to the foot of the trunk and took his first breath in what felt like ages. He examined his foot, found a small wound, and wrapped it with a linen bandage. Then he took a drink from his waterskin, splashed a little onto the dirt, stirred it about, scooped a handful, and rubbed it on the bandage. He stilled his frantic heart by recalling all the various traps they had discussed. Unfortunately, they needed to be performed on level ground, not atop a pillar—not to mention they would certainly be far too weak to cause a dragon any real injury.
Yet as he returned the waterskin to his rucksack, his fingers came across the training cube, and a brilliant idea came to him. He grabbed it, slung the rucksack over his shoulder and prowled through the brush, careful to make as little noise as possible, conscious that the suns would soon completely set and plunge the jungle into the dangerous hours of night.
After finding a spot at the edge where he could wedge himself between a palm tree and an orange-colored bush, he took a breath and poked his head out over the edge. Immediately he felt a wave of potent terror that threatened to blast through his Mind Armor.
The magnificent beauty of this cruel and mythical beast was undeniable. The dragon was pressed against the pillar side like a bat, its wings tucked in, its lizard-like head about fifty feet directly below the edge of the pillar, eyes closed as if taking a nap. It had powerful, enormous lizard-like limbs and a long neck. And it was larger than he had guessed, as wide as three barns, though it was nothing compared to the eight-barn Orion.
Although its wings were bony and looked razor-sharp, its body was heavily muscled and covered with thick matte-black scales. It stank of rot and death, a stench that wafted up to him, making him nauseous. But the most interesting thing about its appearance was the red accents on its brows, on its wingtips, and even down its back—accents The Path Archons had on their shields. Was it a coincidence, or did Emperor Samuel know what necromantic dragons looked like?
I hope you will forgive me for this, my beloved friends.
Slowly—very slowly—Augum floated his telekinetic training cube before him, flitting his gaze between it and the dragon’s closed eyes. He kept increasing the distance until he judged it dead on. Throughout, like a steady rain of arrows, the Fear aura continued its onslaught against his Mind Armor.
Then he took a shaky breath and whispered, “Telekio vaga cuba Sword and Sorcery class.” The cube instantly dropped—and Augum helped it along by giving it the mightiest telekinetic push he could, bending the space around him in the process. And he maintained that push until the cube passed beyond his range.
Below, the dragon’s eyes burst open and looked right at Augum. They were night black, the pupils crimson, giving the beast a demonic appearance. A wave of cold fear crashed through Augum’s Mind Armor. It was the strongest Fear spell he had ever encountered. He saw his friends dismember him using hot pincers while he washed their rotten, skeletal, stinking feet. He saw Mrs. Stone feast on his innards like a vulture. He saw Myrymydion stab his heart with a quill and reink his mustache with it.
But beyond the visions of horror, he also saw a small black object—something he instinctively knew the creature perceived as nothing more than an insect—smash into its forehead. The Fear aura instantly withdrew like a cold wave, leaving behind a prickling sense of dread. For a moment the dragon remained in place, clinging to the side of the pillar as if nothing had happened. And because Augum felt nothing from it, the dragon appeared like a giant piece of stage scenery meant to frighten children, its black-and-crimson gaze sightless.
And then it detached and fell, crashing into the jungle below.
The cube had sliced through its brain, killing it.
Weakness and Rage
Augum watched the jungle move in like a single entity and begin feasting on the dragon’s carcass. He wondered how long until only bones remained. Just as he realized that the suns had set, multiple thwomps sounded off behind him on the pillar. In response, he ran a hand over his body, incanting, “Amari obscura chameleano,” making himself chameleonic within the bush. Then he froze and listened.
“Direction seek—now!” Gavinius roared. “Find them!”
Multiple “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus” incantations were uttered—Tyranecron must have trained them to search out teleportation direction using the 11th degree Reveal spell.
“Let not thy temper cloud thy judgment, young prince,” Tyranecron said.
“In case you haven’t noticed, you squeaky old bellows, they vanquished a necromantic dragon!” Gavinius frothed. “With no apparent sign of violence! What spell did they use? Huh? Tell me!”
Augum was shocked to hear Gavinius talk to Tyranecron in such a manner. It had to mean they had some sort of arrangement—Tyranecron needed something from Gavinius … but what?
“The matter must be i
nvestigated,” Tyranecron replied. “And thou art bleeding focus. With but a minor setback, thou discard the prized lessons I have taught thee. Exploit this weakness of thine the enemy can. Understand I that thou art frustrated, but—”
“Frustrated? Frustrated? That malicious bastard denied my father a Leyan afterlife!” The heir to the empire spat onto the ground like a common brute. “You are failing. We should have caught them by now. You let them slip away!”
“Do not underestimate their mentor’s arcane prowess. She has done much they themselves are likely not aware of to ensure their safety. After all, she is mentored by none other than Krakatos, an Unnameable.”
So the rumors were true, Augum thought. Krakatos was a god. And yet Augum also knew that Krakatos was simply nothing more than an extremely powerful and wise warlock who had been alive for who knew how long. Reconciling the two was impossible for him, however, as he knew too little of the subject.
“Granted, their time together has been short,” Tyranecron continued, “but dost thou realize how few warlocks in history can proclaim such an honor as to be taught by an Unnameable? If we fail to take precautions, we may face a future goddess. Thou would do well to remember that.”
“Don’t talk to me about remembering my duty. You have me ready to sacrifice our own to the lords of the jungle should the primary quest fail, yet you refuse to give up your own hide for the empire. And if you want her so bad, why don’t you dredge up some necromancer courage and challenge her to a duel? Then you can drag her by her hair, kicking and screaming, and feed her to a jungle lord yourself.” Gavinius sneered. “Or are you afraid that she would beat you in a straight duel?”
Only cold silence came from Tyranecron.
“You stare at me a certain way, Leyan. But we both know I hold all the cards here. If you want to learn what only I can teach, you will bow before me.” There was a pause, followed by, “There, wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Augum could only guess at what Gavinius was talking about.
“Those who know their place will be greatly rewarded,” Gavinius went on in a placating tone. “You have been a good and wise mentor, but it is time to try new avenues. And I have a plan on how to get what we all want—”
“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Augum heard Edwin interrupt.
“You dare interrupt me!”
“I … I was only wondering if I could go home—”
“You even mention going home to your harlot mother again and I shall ensure she gets the rack upon our return.”
“N-n-no, p-please don’t do that, Your Highness, I’ll … I’ll do whatever you want, just—”
“Silence your fool mouth and search for them!”
Augum heard Edwin scurry off and tensed as two pairs of footsteps drew near. They stopped mere feet away, and Augum, lying as still as pondwater, found himself looking right up at Gavinius and Tyranecron. Both wore travel rucksacks and were smothered with mud, and Tyranecron had discarded his cane and seemed to walk with poise and grace. Augum tensed knowing that he would be unmasked should one of the Canterrans who had cast Reveal stumble across his hiding spot, for the spell could see right through a Chameleon enchantment.
“Explain our failure to find them,” Gavinius said to Tyranecron.
“Our cause is mutual. Thy temper, however, will undo—”
“I am sick and tired of the same speech all my life. My temper has gotten me this far, has it not? It is an asset not a liability. I crush my enemies with it. I will run an empire with it. Just tell me in plain terms how it was possible. I must learn whatever spell was cast.”
Yeah, good luck with that, Augum thought as the pair glanced over the edge.
“We would have to investigate the body,” Tyranecron said, “which would take time seeing as we would need to fight off the beasts devouring it, as well as spend energy maintaining a defensive perimeter. The likeliest explanation is that Anna used some sort of unknown but highly advanced offensive spell, though I cannot fathom one nearly strong enough to vanquish a dragon—”
“We do not have time for investigations or wasting precious energy!” Gavinius looked over the edge again. “They must have tricked it. I bet it was him. Probably something to do with renewing his damn shield. Had I only known what the ridiculous foot washing meant …” He looked off into the distance. “Considering the last few pillars, it seems like they’re headed toward the mountains.”
“Likely so as to gain better vantage.”
“Can they get past the patch?”
“If anyone is capable of such a feat it is Anna.”
Someone approached. “Y-your Highness,” Edwin’s cagey voice began, “I think I may have an idea—” But he was interrupted by a vicious slap that sent him reeling into the bushes.
“Insufferable idiot, what did I tell you about speaking out of turn? Sniff out their direction! You know what is at stake! Sniff them out!” Gavinius strode off.
“The tendril trail has long gone cold,” Tyranecron replied, following and seemingly taking no notice of Edwin, who softly cried in the bushes.
“But you assured me you could extend the tendril length with your so-called expertise,” Gavinius countered.
“Anna is a clever opponent who had a lifetime of practice evading enemies wishing to steal her scion from her—and she never lost possession of it, only giving it up on the day of her Leyan acceptance.”
The voices faded though continued arguing, leaving Augum alone with the sound of a crying Edwin. “Oh, Mother,” the young man blubbered between crying snorts, “how I have failed us. Please forgive me, this has been a fool’s errand. I thought I could make you well again with the money, but now I shall instead become a feast. I only pray you never learn the depths of my cowardice … or what will become of me. I miss you dearly, Mother … and I miss home so much it hurts. It hurts, Momma, it hurts …”
“Are you still sniveling over there?” Gavinius roared from afar. “Get to work or I’ll slap you off this very pillar!”
“Y-yes, Your Highness,” Edwin gibbered, and hauled himself to his feet. He composed himself with a breath, smoothed his robe, incanted, “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus—” and looked straight at Augum, who lay on his stomach like a frozen mouse hoping not to get noticed by stalking cats.
For a moment the pair gaped at each other. But in the young man’s terrified gaze, Augum saw that he looked upon him as his mother’s salvation.
“Here—!” Edwin shouted before Augum shot up, clamping one hand over his mouth and grabbing his robe with the other.
“You are indeed a fool,” Augum hissed, conscious of multiple warlocks whirling about to see him, “but you did it for your mother, and for that, I forgive you. And you are not a coward—” Then he shoved the wide-eyed young man into the bushes and readied to teleport, but talking to him had cost him precious escape time. Augum felt his body being pulled toward the lead opponent—none other than Tyranecron, who held out a hand and was telekinetically reeling Augum toward him like a hooked fish. His Telekinesis was powerful too—one of the strongest Augum had ever felt. And the slew of black rings on his arm went all the way up to his shoulder—he had to be an 18th or even 19th degree necromancer.
Augum’s battle instincts kicked in. He shot his own hand out and yanked at a tree behind him, breaking the hold and halting the reeling. He immediately drew the outline of a small dragon, incanting, “Summano elementus minimus draco.” The dragon elemental popped into existence with a lightning crackle—and it was full-sized! He had successfully completed his pilgrimage!
But there was no time to celebrate. “Draco, attack!” Augum spat, pointing at Tyranecron, reinvigorated from his reinstatement as a full-fledged Arcaner.
The dragon shot forth like a viper. Tyranecron summoned his shield, made from nothing but black bones, and otherwise ignored it, choosing to instead twist his wrist at Augum, incanting, “Flustrato injucta!”
Augum had enough time to dodge the incoming Confusion spell, o
nly for it to slam into his Mind Armor with such force it almost obliterated it, stunning him—Tyranecron had somehow made it follow him with an enhancement. Only then did Tyranecron turn his attention to Augum’s dragon, which had begun snapping at his shield.
Augum, meanwhile, refocused on his rushing opponents, knowing he needed to recover from his slight disorientation and carve out a slice of time and concentration to teleport off. Doing otherwise risked catastrophic spell failure. But his Mind Armor was weak, so he had to be doubly careful.
Pigface was quickest off the mark and began pulling at Augum with one hand over the other as if pulling a rope, indicating a Drain Life casting. “Deducto sap vitae!”
Augum reacted by summoning his shield and countering, “Mimicus!” Pigface, obviously trained to face Arcaners, had been ready for this and ceased the pulling lest he bleed himself—but he staggered and clutched at his heart nonetheless, indicating he had cut his own soul.
The other Canterrans, meanwhile, had incanted, “Sancto sacro daemos marjorus,” transforming into massive tattered-wing demons, and crashed their way through the thick foliage. But Augum calculated that he only had to deal with the three lead demons, one of whom was a rapidly advancing Gavinius.
Edwin tried to get up but Augum simply smacked him back down telekinetically, hissing, “Stay down.” Then, blood racing, he shot a hand out and telekinetically grabbed one of the demons. He briefly witnessed the space around himself warp as he sent the demon plowing into another one, sending the pair tumbling. It was a feat he probably would not have been able to accomplish prior to the cube training.
That only left Gavinius, and well behind him, the rest of the transformed Path Archons—as well as a deadly Tyranecron, who smote Augum’s dragon with a torrent of black acid that melted everything it touched.
Augum and a demonic and enlarged Gavinius went at it like a pair of rabid dogs, each casting and counter-casting with blurred arms—Push, First Offensive, Shield, Second Offensive, a couple quick black necromantic shots and the 11th degree Arcane Drain, followed by a flurry of parries and counterstrikes and mind spells, sticking to the lower—and thus faster—degree spells.