Burden's Edge (Fury of a Rising Dragon Book 1) Page 10

  “Do you practice Telekinesis in your spare time?”

  “I do, Arcanist Jaheem.”

  “In what way?”

  Augum shrugged. “I lift objects and hold them for as a long as I can. It’s kind of become second nature.”

  Arcanist Jaheem sat back in her chair. She motioned at Augum with her pipe. “That is a method used by Anna Atticus Stone. Training in the old way. The way of the Arcaner.”

  “It is, Arcanist Jaheem. I learned it from her.”

  “Do you like inflicting pain upon yourself, Stone?” Flagon interjected.

  “I look at it more like building a muscle, Arcanist Flagon.”

  “But it hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “When I push, yes.” And he always pushed just a wee bit.

  “Impressive,” Arcanist Jaheem said. “Quite impressive indeed.”

  “Mmm,” intoned the bald arcanist with a slight nod.

  Arcanist Jaheem considered him a moment. “Are you aware that generating a warping field indicates your telekinetic strength so vastly supersedes arcane norms that it bends the fabric of reality itself? Do you realize that means, if I were to guess, that your telekinetic strength is already around the 15th degree?”

  Augum’s brows rose up his forehead. 15th degree … that’s absolutely crazy. He hadn’t the vaguest idea. But then, he had been under-powering his Telekinesis in practice duels, using only the required amount. He hadn’t explored its full potential because he’d had no reason to.

  Surprise rolled through his being. He had been pushing its boundaries, hadn’t he? Every time he lifted a heavier stone, held it for longer, pushed the arcane horizon, he was inadvertently pushing his raw arcane strength.

  “But other 15th degree warlocks don’t … bend the space around them like that,” he noted.

  “That is because they are in line with the spectrum of their degree. It seems you have excessively surpassed yours with this spell.”

  “I have to admit,” Flagon said, “I haven’t heard of field warping taking place since Anna Atticus Stone dueled …” He drew a thumb across his nose. “Was it Scadius Von Edgeworth? Yes, perhaps it was. Looks like it runs in the blood.”

  “With all due respect, Arcanist Flagon,” Arcanist Jaheem began in patient tones, “it has nothing to do with blood. This is sheer force of will and practice for … how long now, Prince Augum?”

  Augum gave a hesitant shrug. “I’ve been doing it since the end of the war, I guess.” And he’d certainly pushed his Telekinesis during that war, and in combat, no less.

  “So, over a year.”

  “Yes, Arcanist Jaheem.”

  “How often?”

  “Daily, I’d say.”

  She raised one brow.

  “All right, multiple times a day and whenever I could get away with it. I guess … I guess it became routine after a while.”

  The Grizzly, whose head had been resting atop his huge fist, adjusted his pose. “Why, Stone?”

  “I’m sorry, Lord High Commander?”

  “Why train like that? What do you fear?”

  Augum glanced down in thought. He suspected telling them it was his favorite spell wasn’t quite the response they were looking for.

  He leveled his gaze at the man. “I do it because I’ve learned from the war that anything can happen at any time and that the greatest strength a warlock has is his Telekinesis, the bedrock spell of all arcanery. I know you’ve drilled this into our heads in Sword and Sorcery already, Lord High Commander, but I’ve always known that Telekinesis is the quickest, most intuitive means to strike at an enemy. I can yank an opponent’s feet out from underneath him. I can tear his weapon out of his hand. I can use nearby objects to attack him.”

  “And you can crush desks, it seems,” Byron said.

  Augum stiffened. A thick silence befell the hall.

  “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there, Prince Augum?” Arcanist Jaheem said.

  “I suppose there is, Arcanist Jaheem. I also want to be able to protect my friends and my castle. I felt helpless too many times in the war while watching friends …” He could not utter that part aloud. Images flashed across his mind like lightning. A burning sword coming down on a young woman’s head. A throat being slashed. “I … I never want to feel helpless again.”

  The committee studied him. Augum got the sense he had impressed them. Whether it helped him out in the hearing was another matter, however.

  Byron tapped the table with a finger. “Prince Augum, are you aware that learning spells more than two degrees beyond your degree is strictly forbidden?”

  “I am, Headmaster. And I am not learning new spells beyond the scope of the Pupil’s Code of Conduct.”

  “Excuse me, Prince Augum, but what do you mean by the word ‘new’?”

  Augum froze, realizing he had stepped into a trap. And by the way Cry was looking at him, he knew it too.

  Those wolfish brows rose. “Are you suggesting you already know spells more than two degrees beyond your own?”

  Augum blinked rapidly as he scrambled to think of a way out of the trap. Bridget had told him to tell the truth, but admitting it could get him expelled. Besides, he had learned the spells during the war, when he hadn’t even been able to attend the academy to learn its rules. Yet he did not trust Iron Byron to be flexible in that regard.

  “Of course not, Headmaster, I misspoke.” Shoot, shoot, shoot! He felt like such a rogue lying to the disciplinary committee. He made a mental note not to use the spells in public, for if they ever found out …

  Luckily, Iron Byron did not press the matter. Instead, he flicked two fingers dismissively. “Very well, then. Let us proceed. On the accusations leveled by Pupil Slimwealth, how do you defend, Prince Augum?”

  Augum, having not heard Cry’s detailed and eloquent appraisal of the situation, had to wing it. “I wanted to stop Pupil Slimwealth from laying a charge that could get me or my friends killed.”

  “I technically made no such charge—” Cry snapped.

  “You will not speak out of turn,” The Grizzly boomed, startling Cry.

  “My apologies, Lord High Commander.”

  The Grizzly stared him down before indicating to Augum. “Proceed.”

  Augum raised his chin, choosing his words carefully. “In tomorrow morning’s Academy Herald, Cry is going to suggest that Bridget, Leera and I still have the seven scions in our possession, which is absolutely not true. If he’s allowed to make that claim, there’ll be pilgrims at our door within hours, demanding to be healed or granted eternal life or who knows what. Worse still, if the wrong people were to think we had the most powerful artifacts to have ever existed … well, we’d be under siege. We wouldn’t last a tenday—”

  Byron raised a hand. “Let us not drift into conjecture, Pupil Stone. Pupil Slimwealth, your response?”

  The committee’s heads turned to Cry.

  “I believe, under the speech freedom regulations governing the Academy Herald, I have the right to ask a question.”

  “That question being?”

  “Does the legendary trio in fact have the seven scions secreted away in their castle?”

  The committee stirred. Augum desperately wanted to tell his side of the story, but he did not dare speak out of turn.

  Arcanist Jaheem placed the pipe back into the side of her mouth. “What proof do you have of such a claim?”

  It was Cry’s turn to raise his chin. “I reiterate that it is not so much a claim as it is an investigative question. Further, I have already declared that I will strive for the profession of a herald. That means I am in search of the truth. As to proof … I have it on good authority—a source I cannot disclose, for they have requested anonymity—that there is an ancient arcane vault in Castle Arinthian. Inside that vault, which only Augum Stone has access to, sit the seven scions.”

  The committee sat stunned.

  Augum waited to be addressed, fists clenched. Byron’s hand had barely risen to
indicate him before he began arguing his point, speaking rapidly.

  “Yes, there is a vault, but it is forever sealed. It required the Arinthian scion to open it. That scion, along with the others, was permanently destroyed in the vanquishing of my fa—err, the Lord of the Legion. The vault is inside the armory and it too is inaccessible.”

  “Well, that is an easy thing to address,” The Grizzly boomed. “I move that an investigative inquiry be made into the vault and armory itself—”

  “I’m afraid that is impossible, Lord High Commander,” Augum said slowly, realizing the awfulness of the situation. How could he prove he didn’t have the scions when he couldn’t even open the vault for them?

  Nonetheless, he soldiered on. “The enchantments guarding the armory are around eighteen hundred years old. They have long sunk to permanence. Without the scion to open them, the armory and the vault … are forever sealed. No warlock alive is powerful enough to undo the complex, fused arcane tendrils that make up those enchantments. It’d be like trying to pry apart steel with only your fingernails. It well and truly is impossible.”

  Augum felt nauseous. Gods, he was in hell. He just let Cry—and thus, all of Solia—know that his castle was, essentially, defenseless, for Cry would surely divulge this secret in the morning’s Herald.

  He chanced a sidelong look, and sure enough, Cry’s usually droopy eyes were wide and alert, gleaming with excitement.

  Byron’s jaw flexed. “How do you know about arcane tendrils? Those can only be seen with the 11th degree spell Reveal.”

  The blood drained from Augum’s face. That was one of the two higher level spells he knew, the other being the 10th degree Disenchant. Anna Stone had taught them to the trio to fend against the Lord of the Legion’s powerful traps and enchantments. But the truth of that could not come out without damning the trio and Mrs. Stone. Again, he had to think quickly.

  “It’s rather complicated—”

  “Try us.”

  “Err … all right.” Augum adjusted the sleeves of his robe. There was part of the story he could tell. But could he tell it eloquently?

  “It goes back to history. As you know, the Leyans gave my ancestor, Atrius Arinthian, one of the seven scions to combat—”

  “—the most feared necromancer of the time, Occulus. Yes, we know the story, Stone. Get to the point.”

  “Yes, Headmaster. The other wielders of the scions, all powerful warlocks, were vanquished by Occulus. But Atrius was triumphant, and while the other scions traveled from one random hand to another, causing havoc along the way, Atrius bequeathed his scion to his daughter, who in turn bequeathed it to a son, and so on for eighteen hundred years … until the only scion to have survived in the originating family got to me.”

  They were listening with rapt attention and so Augum continued.

  “Atrius built an entire castle around that scion—Castle Arinthian, currently under my charge—which ‘opened like a flower’ to any true possessor of the family scion. That possessor, once he passed a series of tests and was deemed worthy, became the Keeper of the Keys.”

  Augum took a shallow breath. He was finding it difficult to speak so openly about what had happened. He was so used to glossing over the details and letting the girls tell the story. Leera, especially, was a far better storyteller than he was.

  “And thus,” Augum went on, “when the Lord of the Legion’s army besieged the castle, I used the scion to tap into the castle’s defensive and offensive capabilities. One of those capabilities, which almost allowed me to fight the Lord of the Legion on equal terms, was something called Spirit Form. It’s hard to explain, but I became one with the castle.” He gracefully fluttered his hands, mimicking the flap of a bird’s wings. “I was a floating soul, able to control and repair the castle’s innards … and see them. That is how I became familiar with arcane tendrils. That is also how I know the enchantments have long since fused with the castle. Those enchantments will not open without a Keeper of the Keys. And since the Keeper of the Keys ceased to exist with the destruction of that scion, certain rooms, like the armory and vault … are now closed for eternity.”

  There was a silence in which only the low flutter of torches could be heard.

  “That is quite the story,” Arcanist Jaheem said, putting down her pipe. “But are you really telling this committee, Prince Augum, that there is no known way to verify Cry Slimwealth’s claim that the scions could be hidden in the vault?”

  “That … that is correct, Arcanist Jaheem.”

  “Then, in my opinion, I see a clear path here. Cry Slimwealth has a right to ask the question, but he must also honestly publish Prince Augum’s defense of the claim.”

  “A sensible deduction,” Byron said before Augum could say another word. “All in agreement?”

  Five hands rose.

  “Therefore,” Byron went on, “since we have deemed Cry Slimwealth’s question to be under the purview of the Academy Herald, we may now rule on Pupil Slimwealth’s accusations. On the charge of conduct unbecoming a pupil of the academy, we see before us an arrogant prince who thinks himself entitled to barge into the offices of the esteemed Academy Herald without repercussions. I thus move that Prince Augum is guilty. All in favor?”

  Three hands rose, with Arcanist Jaheem and The Grizzly abstaining. Still—

  “A clear majority,” Byron announced.

  Augum’s head spun.

  “Very well. On the charge of unauthorized use of arcanery against another student, I vote not guilty on the grounds that Prince Augum performed the arcanery on an object. All in favor?”

  Five hands rose.

  Cry frowned, probably knowing he had messed up by bringing forth the wrong charge. Destruction of property was the one he should have gone with. But it was a pittance of a victory for Augum.

  “On the charge of intimidation, harassment and threats, which we can all safely agree belong in one category, I vote guilty, on account of Prince Augum using clear intimidation tactics to try to get his way. All agree?”

  Five hands rose, the ones from Jaheem and The Grizzly reluctantly, however.

  “Unanimous. And on the final charge of disrupting academy activities, I vote not guilty as no significant harm to standard academy operations has been done. All agree?”

  Five hands rose.

  “Very well.” Byron sat a little straighter as those wolfish brows furrowed together smartly. “In addition to the three lashes already delegated by this committee, Augum Stone shall suffer six more lashes, no arcane healing. All in favor?”

  Five hands rose.

  Augum wanted to retch. Nine public lashes and Cry got to publish the accusatory question. Gods help them …

  “Punishment shall be public and commence between the seventh and eighth morning bell in the courtyard. Dismissed.”

  A Village Concern

  Approximately one hundred and fifty leagues northeast, amidst a snow-encrusted evergreen forest known as Ravenwood, sat the legendary Castle Arinthian. Nearly hidden under a blanket of snow, its old stone facade was only visible beneath its jutting minarets, where snow could not reach. Its windows glowed with warmth, holding back the night that came so brutally early to the northern kingdom of Solia.

  There were three successive thwomps as Augum, Bridget and Leera appeared beside a fountain depicting two dueling warlocks. Augum removed and pocketed his Teleport ring, conscious that only a few charges remained before he needed to purchase another costly recharge from the academy store. After the war, a grateful kingdom had gifted a ring to each of the trio, as well as to their student friends who lived in Arinthia. The rings were limited to two locations: the user’s domicile and the foot of the academy steps. This way they could get home without always having to rely on Jez.

  A cold wind sprung up, swaying the trees in the Ravenwood, many not yet recovered from fire damage in the war. Bridget sneezed. She bundled her amber robe close and raised her hood. Augum and Leera did the same before they all wordlessl
y tromped to the castle’s entrance, lit by two iron-bracketed torches.

  Augum knocked on the arched double doors with an elbow, hands shielded in his armpits while he pivoted from foot to foot to keep warm. He cursed himself for not hiring a locksmith to fashion a proper lock and set of keys. It just felt like a useless expense considering it wasn’t wartime, and he had guards; at least one always manned the castle entrance. He wondered, though, if there was an arcane solution, perhaps a locking rune of some sort. Maybe Jez could help in that regard …

  He squinted past the fat flakes of snow that quietly streamed through the night sky. The watch tower was not visible beyond the outer terrace, located on the fourth floor—otherwise known as the Prince and Princess floor, where he and the girls had their own private rooms. He felt utter relief to be home, though he dreaded the morrow’s morning whipping.

  At least he would keep busy as there was a host of castellan duties to attend to, not to mention homework and training. But first, he needed to quell his pleading stomach.

  They soon heard the wooden slat barring the doors being raised and put aside. One of the doors swung open and the trio trooped into the shadowy vestibule, with its high vaulted ceiling. Faded murals depicting a king’s court, a jousting tournament, caped knights and a line of warlocks of all skin colors and robes decorated the walls.

  Cobb, Lieutenant of the Watch, fought against a plume of snowdrift to close the door behind them. He then bowed. “Prince Augum. Princess Bridget. Princess Leera. It is good to have you home. Forgive my tardiness. I was chasing another rat. It seems the infestation is getting worse, Your Highnesses. I do suggest we hire more servants to deal with the problem.”

  “Yes, I know how you feel about it, Lieutenant,” Augum said wearily. “You know I have no desire to stuff the castle full of servants.” The truth was, they could not afford it if they wanted to.

  “I understand, Your Highness,” Cobb said. He was dressed in banded leather armor, with an old battle axe on his back. He had close-cropped blonde hair that was going gray. The man was an Ordinary, unable to cast any spells, but he was also a loyal and able guardsman who had served the trio during the war. His family lived nearby in Arinthia.