Burden's Edge (Fury of a Rising Dragon Book 1) Read online

  “Might be a record, Burns, Lavo,” Fungal said, telekinetically using a cloth to erase their old score and then write in the number four. “No change for Team Whipped,” Fungal said with a wry grin, leaving the exaggerated zero in place. But he did add two dots for eyes and a flat line for a mouth.

  “That miserable-looking zero looks like someone I know,” Brandon muttered, pointedly not looking at Bridget. A hurt look crossed her face.

  “Shake ’em,” Fungal said before Bridget could murder her boyfriend.

  Caireen firmly shook Augum’s hand. “Good round.”

  “My back stings from that new whipping you gave me,” he said, and she chortled.

  Bridget shook Brandon’s hand coldly before taking Augum’s, and then they found new opponents. Thankfully, they were facing Leera and Mary Martel next. This time, Brandon and Augum didn’t bother taking a seat, deciding to save themselves the pain.

  “Zero, huh?” Leera said, one sharp brow rising.

  “Shut up,” Augum grumbled, glancing over at the board and seeing a four beside Team Jones Martel.

  Even Brandon seemed to be getting nervous, whispering, “Hey, Mary, think you guys could throw us a point … or two?”

  “No mercy, Mary,” Leera cut in, flashing Augum a wicked grin. “No mercy. Slay the usurpers.” Then she pointed at Brandon. “And you. What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy?”

  “M-me?” Brandon sputtered.

  “No, the other Brandon. Yes, you, meathead. Want your body to end up as a cold loaf lying out in the snow? I warned you a while back. You mess with Bridget, I chop you into little pieces and feed you to the pigs.”

  Brandon leaned closer to Augum. “And you love her?”

  Augum gave him a gentle shove with his shoulder. “Focus, will you? We’re getting creamed here.”

  “As you say, boss,” Brandon muttered, throwing a salute while eyeing Leera distrustfully.

  Fungal made a dramatic flourish with his hand. “Flare ’em!”

  Requisites aside, the challenge began anew. This time, Augum finished his spell. Unfortunately, it was just after Fungal had called time. By then, Brandon’s spell had fizzled, and Mary and Leera were grinning proudly, their water shields floating before them.

  They next faced a beaming Laudine and a sour Cry. Brandon immediately glared at him.

  Augum needed to delicately question Cry, though. He was about to whisper to Brandon not to start anything when Cry gave Brandon a bland look.

  “It was a fair piece,” he told Brandon.

  “Fair? Fair? Are you kidding me, Fry Himself?”

  Augum groaned.

  Cry placed his flat gaze on Augum. “Still encouraging him, I see.”

  “Don’t you try to cause a rift between us, you little turdling,” Brandon snapped. “If I caught you out in the wild on your own I’d—”

  “You’d what?” Cry asked. “Smooth your stupid bandana? You’re a terrible warlock. It’s a miracle you got this far. Actually, we both know why you got this far, don’t we? If it wasn’t for Bridget, you’d be carrying boulders in some mine.”

  Brandon’s face turned purple with rage. Augum placed a hand on his arm, imploring him with a look not to make things worse.

  “Flare ’em!” Fungal called.

  Shoot, Augum hadn’t even had a chance to ask Cry anything.

  Needless to say, they lost that round badly. So badly that Fungal went over to the grim-faced zero and replaced the straight mouth line with a melancholy frown.

  “You two keep this up and I promise I will be disappointed in you.” Fungal said it with a smile, but Augum knew he was serious.

  The rounds flew by. Augum managed to score a couple points for his team, but they still lagged in last place. The lack of preparation on his part was seriously costing them. It was worse hearing that Brandon had done “some” of the homework and still couldn’t score a single point for their team.

  “And by ‘some,’ I mean none,” Brandon explained with a chuckle, much to Augum’s chagrin. “Got caught up in a nap.”

  “Careful, or you’ll hit your ceiling this year,” Augum sniped.

  A deeply hurt looked passed over Brandon’s face.

  “I didn’t mean that.” He had struck a sore spot, for hitting the ceiling was one of Brandon’s greatest fears. Out of everyone in the class, he was struggling the most. Besides Carp, that was.

  Augum glanced at the board. His team was tied for last place with Team Beaumont Fowler, while Bridget’s team was tied for first with Team Southguard. Both teams happened to be facing each other in the final round. By then, Brandon, having taken Augum’s words to heart, was muttering to himself angrily for letting the team down.

  “Hey,” Augum said, giving him a friendly nudge and a smile. “Just do your best. Whatever happens, happens.”

  “Right. I will. No way am I letting us come in last place. You know what that always means in these kinds of things, right? Means we get cut from the academy. We hit our ceiling.”

  “That’s just superstition.”

  Brandon gave a forced chuckle. “Yeah, ’course it is.”

  The two friends glanced over at their opponents. Carp sneered at Augum as he scratched his stubble while Elizabeth raised her proud chin at Brandon.

  “How did you find yourself in last place, Beaumont?” Brandon asked.

  Elizabeth ran a delicate hand through her fine, long blond hair. “I was performing duties for the student council last night and couldn’t do my homework. That and—” She indicated Carp with a sideways bob of her head.

  “Don’t be lyin’ to them,” Carp said. “You partied like you always do.”

  “I loathe you, Carp Fowler.”

  “Go to hell, you slopping, stuck-up bucket of ox turd.”

  “You are a disgusting excuse for a grown man, and you will hit your ceiling this year.”

  Carp readied to snarl a response but Fungal clapped his hands. “Championship round, everyone. Flare ’em!”

  A small miracle took place that round. Both Brandon and Augum beat Elizabeth and Carp, just when it mattered most.

  “Congratulations,” Fungal said, handing Elizabeth and Carp each a piece of coal. “I want a ten-parchment essay from each of you summarizing all the runes we have learned this term; a detailed parchment essay on why you placed last in this tournament; a thorough read-up on the Shield Rune; followed by a demonstration that you have mastered said rune, which you will perform next class.”

  “Yes, Arcanist Fungal,” Elizabeth and Carp chorused sullenly.

  “And now for the winners. A round of applause, everyone, for Princess Bridget and Pupil Caireen Lavo, who narrowly edged out the Southguards.”

  Bridget and Caireen accepted their golden eggs with smiling faces.

  “For the rest of you sad sacks, I have the following homework to dole out before you lope off to lunch …”

  Questions

  On their way to lunch, a group of academy students descended upon the trio and their friends in the Hall of Rapture. The students were of all ages and degrees, from fourteen-year-olds to older adults, from 1st degree to 10th. The questions came in a barrage.

  “How come you took the scions for yourselves instead of giving them to the kingdom for all to benefit from?”

  “If the Canterrans attack, you’ll protect us, right?”

  “Why do you three get to live forever and we don’t?”

  “Can you heal my sick mother, seeing as the healers gave up on her?”

  “Can you heal me? It’s something in my blood, something too advanced for them, something beyond arcane and Ordinary healing knowledge …”

  “Is that really why you didn’t take the throne, Your Highness? Because you knew you didn’t need it and you wanted to keep low while you benefitted from the scions?”

  “We’re just trying to get to lunch!” Leera shouted. “I mean … are you all serious? None of it is true!”

  But the questions were incessa
nt and continued all the way down the Hall of Rapture.

  “Of course you’d say that.”

  “You really thought you could get away with it?”

  “How does it feel to be traitors to your own kingdom?”

  “What’s it feel like to hold one? Do you, like, feel super powerful?”

  “Since they prolong life and stuff, why don’t you hand them over to the arcaneologists to dissect so the power can be shared with all of us?”

  “If I didn’t fear getting expelled, I’d slap y’all in the old way and we’d duel.”

  Augum, already walking slow from his aching back, was further slowed because he kept having to step around students. Saying things like, “Look, we really don’t have them,” and, “No, we’re not hiding them in the vault,” and, “Yes, the vault is sealed forever and no I do not know how to get in,” did not help either. People had made up their minds. It was so frustrating that Augum stopped amidst the ever-growing throng and raised a hand.

  People shushed each other into silence.

  “Look, you all want it to be true because you want to live forever,” Augum told them, turning in place. “That same dream, to live forever, has been the cornerstone of our beliefs throughout history.” It had been on his mind since the short time he had possessed the Arinthian scion. Now the thought rushed forth like water bursting through a damn. “Think of it. The healing arts already more than double our life spans. And then, every millennium or so, a powerful necromancer comes along promising the same old tired thing to everyone—eternal life to the devoted. Attyla the Mighty. Occulus. Narsus the Necromancer. The Lord of the Legion. All promised eternal life to their followers, and all only meant it in a most cynical way … by turning people into undead.”

  It was so silent they could have heard a pin drop in the ancient hall.

  Augum glanced up at the infinite ceiling. “But there is no eternity. Like this ceiling, it’s an illusion. You step outside and the academy has a normal roof. It’s an illusion. Not even the Leyans live eternally. They cheat by meditating. You know how boring that is? To stand in the deserts of Ley for a thousand … two thousand years?”

  “There’s no such thing as Leyans,” someone blurted.

  “But there is,” Augum said, unable to keep the edge in his voice from slicing through his words. “Because I have seen them. And there are Dreadnoughts and witches and wolven and harpies and Occies and demons … and countless creatures we have not yet even fathomed.” He wanted to say and dragons, but that would just result in scoffing eye rolls. “Just like there are—err, were—necromancers. But you try explaining that to your grandkids in fifty years. How can they believe you without seeing them with their own eyes? Hmm? We vanquished the Lord of the Legion at a cost. It cost us friends and family. It cost you friends and family. It cost the scions … and access to my vault. But it happened.”

  “Hey, that’s where you is hiding the scions!” someone cried. “That there vault!”

  “Don’t you get it? The Arinthian vault is forever sealed. There is no warlock alive who can pry those eighteen-hundred-year-old enchantments open. Believe me, there is no one who wants that vault open more than us because there’s stuff in there the castle needs, stuff like defensive equipment and money. Yes, there’s money. Money that would go a long way in paying our debts.” There, he had said it. It was embarrassing, but he had said it.

  He shook his head, meeting their gazes one by one. “Shame on you. Shame on you all. You have been taken in by nothing more than conjecture.”

  One by one, their eyes dropped.

  Because he couldn’t help his anger, he added sarcastically, “Yeah, we spent the entire war running from the Legion and fighting them … all in some—” He threw up his hands mockingly. “—elaborate stupid plan to capture those scions for ourselves. And then, just to spite you all, we hid those things in a vault sealed for all time! Sealed with ancient valuables, our entire armory, and all our gold! And through some unknown magic method, we’ve been tuned to the scions this whole time and benefitting from their power, even though there’s zero evidence it’s even possible to use them that way.” He wanted to spit on the floor in a vulgar gesture, but thought using the unseemly term for fake arcanery, magic, had done the job nicely. “Shame on you all,” he repeated and slowly shouldered past the quiet crowd, wincing with each step.

  “Holy Unnameables, I have never seen Augum that angry before,” Brandon said as they left the muttering crowd behind.

  Running footsteps caught up to them. “For what it’s worth, I believe you, Prince Augum!”

  “Thanks, Gretchen,” Augum replied.

  “You, like, sounded like the Augum Stone in the songs and poems, you know.”

  Augum turned to give her a wry smile, but she was already walking in the other direction.

  * * *

  “Don’t suppose you memorized that epic speech?” Leera asked as the group sat down in the Supper Hall where a new throng of students had accumulated with the same questions and accusations.

  “Wow, this is worse than I thought,” Laudine said. Sometimes, Caireen, Isaac and Jengo sat with them, but they were either busy or not up for the crowd today.

  “Just ignore them,” Bridget said, taking a seat between Leera and Laudine, which was unusual since she usually sat beside Brandon.

  “How’d it feel getting whipped?” someone asked from the gathered throng, much to the amusement of the others around them.

  “Oh, come on,” Brandon said. “How do you think it felt?”

  “We can’t eat here,” Augum spat, snatching up his battered wooden tray. “Come on, I know an abandoned room we can use. Besides, I’ve got something to show you.”

  Augum led them all the way back through the snowy courtyard and into the Hall of Rapture. After a long walk, they stepped into a room Augum came to when he wanted to study a certain subject dear to his heart.

  “Great, now my food’s cold,” Leera muttered as she glanced around for a place to sit.

  “This room … this room hath I none ever stepped light foot in,” Laudine said in a stage accent.

  “None of you saw what was on the door?” Augum asked.

  “We’re hungry and grumpy that we couldn’t eat because we had to deal with gullible people who want our heads to roll,” Leera said. “Forgive us if we didn’t bother reading what was on the door.” But she gave the room a closer look. “Huh. Well, look at that. It is kind of neat, isn’t it?”

  Augum smiled. He found it adorable how her mood could turn on a leaf. It made him long to spend quiet time together, so he could open up to her again. He should have brought her here earlier.

  Unlike the majority of academy rooms, this one was round. Two hundred feet across, it resembled the inside of a massive castle battlement. There was no ceiling, only stone walls that soared skyward to eternity. The stone blocks were ancient, and some were black like rotten teeth. Hanging on the walls were ancient ratty banners, tapestries, paintings and crests. Where one expected to see archer slots in a battlement, there were curved alcoves that held old monuments, trophies, royal tabards, suits of armor, and ornate weaponry. These alcoves spiraled into the hazy sky of the battlement, illuminated with the same eternal candlelit ambiance as the Lecture Wing.

  The room was laid out in three-tiered rings, much like a prone archery target, with the outermost ring a flagstone walkway abutting the wall. Next came a ring of gray stone bleachers that descended to the last ring, the bull’s eye, which was a sandy arena. In the middle of the arena sat a cracked chalkboard perched on a downtrodden stand, as well as a most interesting desk carved from solid mahogany … in the shape of a sleeping dragon.

  Augum carefully put down his tray and satchel and then gingerly splayed his arms so his sutured lashes wouldn’t hurt too much. “Welcome to Arcaner Studies.” He felt pride swell in his chest as they examined the history-decorated walls. “I come here to study sometimes. When I feel like walking this far, that is.”
r />   “And to get away from me, it seems,” Leera muttered. “How come you never brought me here?”

  “I have been meaning to bring you here, actually. The opportunity just never presented itself.” He glanced around as he spoke. “Those tabards are from various kings’ royal guard details of the past. And many of those weapons were captured from worthy opponents of famous duels. The tapestries show famous battles and famous Arcaners and other stuff. Anyway, see those black stones, the ones that look charred? You probably already know they’re from the ruins of an older academy that used to be in this same location, but did you know some of them are enchanted? And nobody knows what those enchantments do because the knowledge on how to unlock them has been lost to time. And you can’t disenchant them because most of them have sunk to permanence.”

  “What do you mean by ‘unlock them’?” Leera asked.

  “I’ve been messing around and they’re like historical puzzles. They’re mentioned in the texts.”

  “Which texts?” Laudine asked.

  “The Arcaner texts—or what’s left of them. I read some in the library. They’re so old you can’t even take them out. They talk about how Arcaners passed knowledge to each other in three ways—verbally, through their sacred texts, and by using those stones. Since Arcaners are all gone, we can’t hear what they have to say. And I’ve already pored over the texts, but they’re incomplete and hard to decipher. Which leaves the mystery of the stones. And that’s just one of the many secrets this room holds.”

  “I’ll say,” Leera said. “You realize we only have an hour for lunch.”

  “Two thirds of an hour now, I’d say,” Brandon muttered.

  “Why are you telling us all this?” Leera asked. “Wait, you found something, didn’t you?”

  Augum grinned mischievously. “I did.” He shuffled over to a nearby black stone.

  The group exchanged mystified looks.

  “Watch.” He raised his hand. “Shyneo.” His hand lit up with bright lightning, which he reflexively dimmed. Then he placed his palm against the cool stone. “Ato questa Arcana.”