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

  She gave a relieved nod. “All our 1st degrees got quickly picked off. As did the infantry. We hung in there, though. Isaac knocked Laud out of the game, but I got him back.”

  “Her Fear attack made me piss myself,” Isaac quipped. “Want to see?”

  Girls squirmed as calls of “grow up” and “don’t you dare” abounded.

  Isaac laughed like someone who enjoyed tormenting his prey. “Are you sure? Well, fine then. Didn’t matter anyway. We were bound to lose. Eric’s as warm with his soldiers as a block of ice. Totally unfit for command.”

  Eric threw a cold glare his way.

  “What, you know it’s true,” Isaac said.

  Eric examined Isaac from foot to head with a withering look before turning away.

  “And then I shoved Elizabeth into the swamp,” Leera went on, thumbing behind her. Augum glanced over to see a scowling, drenched Elizabeth standing beside Cry. He looked like he didn’t care at all about who had won. “Your plan of draining enemy stamina worked well for a while, until they began conserving. But your other plan worked spectacularly. We managed to get Bridge on top of the keep, where she got involved in a tug-of-war with, uh …” She mouthed the word, “Brandon,” as Bridget seemed distracted by distant thoughts. “Bested him easily, of course,” Leera added in a whisper. “It was simultaneously hilarious and humiliating. She used Telekinesis and had him slap his own face, like, three times. And each time his eyes grew larger as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. I think he may have even whimpered. Obviously deserved it, in my opinion.”

  Jengo fiddled with his pristine satchel. “After I healed your stomach and arm wounds, I was forced to break academy protocol to heal your back as you’d lost too much blood. You tore out every stitch. I seem to recall specifically telling you to take it easy.”

  Augum felt his stomach and his arm where the dagger had penetrated. Both felt raw, but there would be no permanent damage. “You’re getting good at your craft.”

  “The academy has trained me well.”

  “Jengo’s not mentioning one other thing he did,” Leera said with a proud smile. “Go on, tell him.”

  Jengo cleared his throat. “The assassin’s blade had the same Black Nettle poison.” But he was smiling.

  “You had the antidote on you,” Augum guessed.

  Jengo held up a small empty vial. “Cost ten gold for this little thing. You believe that? Bought it this morning from an herbalist specializing in rare remedies.”

  “Alera Serum,” Augum whispered.

  “Had any other healer attended you, you would have died,” Leera said, smiling appreciatively at Jengo.

  “Owe you one,” Augum wheezed.

  “You owe me a few, but who’s counting.” Jengo stood and brushed wheat from his robe. “I’ll get you each a vial. Mere ingestion should do it. Now I need to get back to my last lesson of the day and see if I can catch up on a few notes. Human Anatomy class waits for no man.”

  “You can put this down as going toward your proata mentora,” Leera said.

  Jengo scoffed. “Proata mentora is becoming my new profession.” He gave a single wag of his finger at Augum. “You’re still weak from all that blood loss. Take it easy for the rest of the day. I mean it—a physician’s word is law.” And he strode off.

  “He means it,” Leera deadpannned. “Anyway, I was teasing him. Healers have to, like, what, spend fifty percent of their time doing community service?”

  “ ‘Like,’ ” Augum mimicked with a wry grin.

  Leera’s eyes narrowed. “Are … are you teasing me?” She stuck her arm to her forehead and closed her eyes. “How could you? I’m mortally wounded.”

  “You should have taken drama class,” Augum said.

  “Twenty,” Bridget corrected in a distant voice, picking at chaffs of wheat.

  “Gods, she speaks,” Leera said “But that sullen cloud of yours has confused me. Twenty what? Years? Degrees? Number of times you slapped bandana boy?”

  “Healers have to spend twenty percent of their time doing community service,” Bridget replied in the same distant voice.

  “Look at that. She’s completely unaffected by my charm.”

  Bridget narrowed her eyes at her and Leera immediately raised her hands in surrender.

  Isaac loomed near. “Are you three always so dismissive of people trying to kill you?”

  “You stink like swamp juice,” Leera said. She swatted at his legs. “Back, troll. Back, I say.”

  “He’s right. None of that is of any import right now,” Bridget said without looking up. “Someone tried to kill Augum. Here, in the academy.”

  “I’m used to people trying to kill me,” Augum muttered to Isaac, recalling the war with all too much clarity. But it was a lie. His insides buzzed, troubled by what had happened. An assassin had penetrated the army ranks just to find him. Part of it almost didn’t make any sense. How did the assassin know they’d be assigned to a random mock battle Augum would partake in? Though he supposed a clever assassin knew an army uniform opened doors, and all he had to do was wait for an opportunity … or create one.

  He focused on Bridget. She sat glumly, curling a chaff of wheat around her finger. He suspected he knew what was bothering her. Death they could deal with, but a troubled heart was painful in its own poignant way. He glanced around to see Brandon sitting alone, looking positively miserable. Just as Augum was about to suggest Bridget go to him, Katrina sat down beside him and gave him a friendly elbow. Brandon lit up, and they started talking in quiet tones, making Augum angry with him all over again. Dumb fool, what was he doing?

  More shadows appeared, larger ones. Augum put a hand over his eyes.

  “Can you stand, Stone?” The Grizzly asked.

  “I think so.” The girls helped Augum to his feet. His knees felt like jelly. “That antidote has quite the kick,” he mumbled.

  The whole class gathered around informally, and it was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that the Lord High Commander did not demand they form a line.

  Augum noticed the king’s infantry and archers had gone, as had the healers and the 1st degree students. In their place were several academy officials as well as brooding men clad in brown cloth. He did not recognize them, though he suspected they were here on behalf of the Lady High Inquisitor, a cold and shrewd woman who held one of the most powerful offices of the high council.

  “First things first,” The Grizzly boomed. “Obviously, a grave crime of attempted murder was committed today. Due to a last-moment Push spell, Prince Augum defeated the attacker, who perished from the defensive action. The High Inquisitor’s office will investigate the matter, and they may call on anyone present as witnesses. You will do your duty to the kingdom and cooperate. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Lord High Commander, sir!” the class chorused.

  “Good.” The Grizzly’s black eyes fell upon Augum. “And I have brought to their attention all relevant details.”

  Augum gave a grateful nod, knowing The Grizzly was finally taking their information on the assassins’ names seriously.

  “As to a matter substantially more trivial in comparison, Commander Stone’s army won most decisively today. You have all fought well, with minimal injuries.” He glanced Eric’s way. “It was poor strategy separating your captains from their troops, Southguard. Further, you had the advantage of having attended my flanking class, yet you ignored my advice about expecting a strong blow on a weak flank.”

  While Eric paled, Augum felt a little guilty, for he had gotten lucky guessing that throwing all his forces on one flank would work. Eric could have easily defended had he had better spotters in place.

  “I will be supplying a detailed report to your father this very eve.”

  “Yes, Lord High Commander,” Eric said gloomily, still rubbing his jaw. Leera must have really socked him for him to still feel it.

  Iron Byron strode over, his perfectly combed silver hair undisturbed by
the light breeze. “Aside from the occurrence of an attempted murder, it has come to the attention of the disciplinary committee that your wounds were healed, Prince Augum. However, seeing as the healing was apparently a necessity to save your life—” He glanced reluctantly at Arcanist Jaheem, Arcanist Flagon, and The Grizzly, who all looked stately and poised, telling Augum they had put in a strong word on the matter. “—there will be no further action taken.” Byron’s jowls quivered as if the idea of letting something like this pass offended him. Augum suspected that if the man had been left to his own rigid thinking, he would have had him whipped all over again.

  The Grizzly brushed off his bear hands against each other. “Get your satchels. There’s an Occupation Ceremony to attend. Dismissed.”

  “Excuse me,” said a cold and crisp voice.

  The Grizzly grimaced. “Lady High Inquisitor.”

  The woman strode over with a constipated walk, legs moving in short and jerky steps, brown robe swaying. “I’m afraid it will be necessary to have a word with Prince Augum, Lord High Commander.”

  “As you wish, Melinda. Everybody else—out.”

  The Lady High Inquisitor pursed her lips at the mention of her name, no doubt preferring her full title.

  “Good luck,” murmured Leera, squeezing Augum’s hand as she cleared out along with the others.

  Augum had heard about the Lady High Inquisitor Melinda Sterns through Jez. She was Jez’s age and known as a thorough woman. She was also known to be as cold as her element of ice. Jez called her Malignant Melinda, and by the way she said it, Augum got the impression there was history between them.

  The High Inquisitor watched people meander off with hawk eyes. She was tall, with a thin face and bony cheeks. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, stretching her pale forehead.

  Those hawk eyes at last swiveled to Augum and took in the length of him with measured precision. As if the gesture had been a signal, the other brown-clad officials from the inquisition office joined her, parchments and quills in hand.

  “Prince Augum. Would you kindly list any potential enemies that would seek to cause you harm.”

  “That’s, uh, a bit of a long list.”

  One of her wisp-thin brows rose expectantly.

  “Right, well, I managed to insult all the high nobility, so we can start there. And I suppose I have a whole bunch of enemies from the war.” He watched the quills scratch at the parchments. “And now there’s a lot of angry people who think we possess the scions, so there’s that too. And, uh, there’re probably more enemies, but I can’t think of any more at the moment.”

  “And do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Possess the scions.”

  “Of course not!”

  “I see.” She examined him. “And is there anything else you would like to tell me, Prince Augum?”

  Augum thought of russet-colored eyes flecked with gold. “No, Lady High Inquisitor.” She spooked him and he didn’t trust her.

  She stared at him while the quills worked away, and he stood there awkwardly waiting for another question. At last, she said, “That will be all for now, Prince Augum.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  She stared. The quills continued working away. A single finger flicked rigidly toward the portal. “You may leave.”

  “Right. Thanks, I guess.” He departed, glancing back once. She was still staring at him in her hawkish way. Creepy woman, he thought.

  Noses High

  “I don’t know why he’s acting like that,” Augum said as the trio walked through the snowy courtyard. The girls had waited for him outside the portal to the War Pit while everyone else had gone on to the theater. The crisp winter air was refreshing and helped clear his head. And he felt much better without the lashings to deal with. In a grotesque way, the assassin had miraculously improved his situation.

  “He’s an imbecile as far as I’m concerned,” Leera said. “All I want to do right now is wring his stupid neck.”

  They had been hashing out the assassin situation to no avail, and talk had drifted to Brandon’s behavior.

  Bridget wrapped her arms around her middle as she walked, watching her feet in the deep snow, satchel swinging by her side with each step. “I just don’t get it. I know we’ve been having a few problems, but it’s not like …” She shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”

  “He’s always been fickle,” Augum said. “Maybe he’s just going through a phase … or something.”

  The girls gave him a look.

  “Or not, I don’t know,” Augum quickly corrected.

  They walked by Mrs. Stone’s statue and down the Steps of the Crescent Moon, stopping at the base, where they were supposed to meet Jez.

  “I know this is probably the worst time to ask,” Augum began, drawing his hood against a chill wind. “But have either of you thought about maybe joining me in, uh—”

  “—declaring to become an Arcaner?” Bridget finished for him. There was no warmth in her voice, and he interpreted the empty look she was giving him as disappointment. It shot a small ache through his heart.

  There was a thwomp as Jez appeared paces away, carrying a sack full of the fancy-shmancy clothes they had to change into for the declaration and coronation ceremonies.

  “Well, well, will you look at those glum faces,” she remarked, telekinetically shoving the sack at Augum. He took it in the stomach with an “oof!” He wished she’d stop doing that, though judging by the wicked grin, he suspected she enjoyed it too much.

  “Who died?” she pressed. She wore a cream pleated court dress, and her hair was elegantly pinned up. “Hmm? Speak up, kiddos. Actually, wait.” She made a show of placing a palm to her forehead as she closed her eyes. “Let me see here. Someone called you a bad name. No, wait. Some stupid teenage drama involving arguments and unfounded accusations and oafish misunderstandings. No? Not it? Okay, one more. Someone tried to kill all of you because of the piece in the heralds.”

  “Close,” Augum said in a weary tone.

  “Ah, then just one of you. That’s an improvement, I suppose.” She thumbed at Augum. “Seriously, what tragedy besides this one here getting whipped befell you this time?”

  Leera sighed and explained that an assassin actually had tried to kill Augum.

  “Ah, I see someone’s keeping my apprentice on his toes. Fantastic.”

  “I’m not an apprentice anymore. I’m an initiate.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since three degrees ago.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m glad they’re keeping you sharp anyway.”

  Though infrequently used, the official academy titles were Apprentice, Initiate, Adept, Mage, Grandmage, Archmage, and Master. But he suspected Jez knew that and was being obtuse in her ironic way simply to annoy him.

  “But all jesting aside, we’ll get to the bottom of this assassin thing, don’t you worry about it.” She flicked her wrist at him. “How was the whipping?”

  Augum stared at her.

  “Come on, how was it? Did you learn anything? Did you pass out? Barf all over the platform? Cry like a little kid? Howl like a baby? Was it … fun?”

  Augum narrowed his eyes. “Peachy fun.”

  Jez pushed her tongue into her cheek. “I knew I should have come to watch. I hate missing out on fun, especially peachy fun.”

  “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t make it.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” Leera said with a snicker.

  “That’s what my ex-boyfriends always say.” Jez then swept her arms forth as if they were cattle. “Now git a move on,” she said in a country twang. “Git!”

  As they strode through the snowy courtyard toward the Student Wing portal, Jez put one arm around Augum’s neck and one around Bridget’s and dragged them close to her. “Don’t be so glum. You thrive on almost dying. And you, mister …” She gave Augum an extra tight squeeze. “You’ll always be an apprentice to me, no matter how big and strong
and manly you grow.”

  Augum squirmed away from her. “Yeesh, Jez.”

  “And what’s with you?” she asked Bridget, giving her a shake but not letting go. “Hmm? Did you lose half a mark on an exam? Forget to raise your hand to answer a question? Accidentally crack a smile today?”

  “Brandon,” was all Leera said.

  “Ah, wonderful,” Jez remarked. “Where is he? I need to perform a murder.”

  “Thanks, Jez, but we’ll figure it out on our own,” Leera said.

  “You sure? I’ll even let you personalize the way he dies. Let’s see here, he can choke on a turnip, suddenly fall down an outhouse, or get strangled by his own undergarments. Heck, I bet I can even combine those into quite the headline-making demise …”

  The trio stared at her.

  Jez sighed. “Suit yourselves.”

  Other warlocks, mentors and parents either teleported in behind them or walked over from the distant academy gates, some with kids, servants and friends in tow.

  “Here come the nobles,” Jez muttered. “Raise your noses so we can fit in.”

  “Hey, why don’t you share those scions!” a young kid shouted from across the courtyard.

  Heads turned to look the trio’s way.

  “You heard they tried to kill him?” said another in an obnoxiously loud voice.

  “What’s that girly song go like again?” a third asked and mockingly belted out, “ ‘He learned magic quick and strong, righting every wicked wrong, just as leaves fall in autumn, nothing could beat handsome Augum.’ ”

  Augum cringed as the courtyard laughed. It was one of the songs made up by a young Ordinary girl and mockingly published in the Youth Herald a while back.

  “That kind of day, is it?” Jez said, not breaking her stride. “Ignore them, you’ve faced much worse. And I’m sure it’ll be right as rain again when the idiots try getting into the vault and realize it’s stuck for eternity.”

  “Is that what they’re suggesting?” Leera asked, squeezing Augum’s shoulder in an effort to console him. It partly worked.

  “The fools already formed an inquisition committee of ‘expert’ warlocks. Once old Rupert takes the throne, he’ll sign off on it. Expect a knock at the door shortly after.”