Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (68 page)

He gazed into her dark eyes, eyes filled with concern. “All right.”

After taking some time to comfort him, she shared a look with Bridget. “If the orb survived and the Legion found it—”

“—we could listen in,” Bridget said. “We just have to be careful they don’t do the same to us.”

Meanwhile, he knelt by Mrs. Stone, taking her withered hand in his own. She had definitely aged, though not as fast as her husband—and just how was he supposed to tell her Thomas was gone?

He stared at her pale face, cracked with ancient lines. They looked deeper, more defined. Her hair seemed wispier too, though she still had it braided in a long silver ponytail. He glanced at her charred robe. It was fringed with gold and embroidered with unfamiliar white flowers. Had she received it from the monks?

Her eyes opened a little and she smiled. “You … have … done … well … great … grandson …”

Augum shook his head. “No, I haven’t, Nana. I’ve failed miserably. Mya is … She’s …”

“I … know. All … things … pass …”

It was painful to hear. He squeezed her hand. “Please don’t speak, Nana, you need rest. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but it can wait.”

“We … must … strike … east … Muranians …”

“Muranians?”

“Sounds like a mountain range,” Bridget said, retrieving Tridian’s sheepskin map. She scanned it with a finger. “They’re not on here. Must be further east.”

“I know where they are,” Mr. Goss said, stepping through the door, face grim. “They are the dividing range between Tiberra and Solia. Such a journey would be perilous at this time as the Legion is moving through there on their way to attack Tiberra.

“Why the Muranians, Nana?”

They all turned to Mrs. Stone, whose eyes were closed. “Occulus’ … castle.”

“But Mrs. Stone,” Bridget began, “Occulus’ castle has been lost to time for, for over fifteen hundred years—”

“Must … find … it.”

Augum suspected it had something to do with the Seers, but didn’t press the issue as he didn’t want to weaken her further. She’d explain in due time, he figured.

“We should find another hideout until Mrs. Stone recuperates,” Mr. Goss said. “Somewhere safe.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe the Waxmans … old friends of the family who happen to possess a farm on the Gamber.”

“That’s my old river—” Augum said. “I lived near there.”

“Let me see that map please. Ah, yes, here—” Mr. Goss tapped a spot north of Augum’s old village of Willowbrook. “Mr. and Mrs. Waxman, their three daughters, and seven sons, I believe. If they are well and able, they will take us in and allow us rest.”

Leera hunched over the map with knitted brows. “Mr. Goss, that’s at least a four day walk …”

“Yes, I am aware, but I have a small store of food in Sparrow’s Perch, and if we find more horses …”

“My father would search Sparrow’s Perch first.”

“We have no choice,” Bridget said. “We need food.”

Mrs. Stone beckoned weakly, whispered something into Bridget’s ear.

“Mrs. Stone said it’ll be safe to enter Sparrow’s Perch right now, but we must be quick about it.”

Mr. Goss gave a nod. “I believe the vanquished Legionnaires left behind a horse or two there as well.”

Augum wondered what had become of the Blade of Sorrows. Would they find the man lying in the snow in the middle of the village?

“Bridget, you take the warhorse with Mrs. Stone,” Mr. Goss said. “Leera, you take the chestnut with Leland. Augum and I shall walk.”

Thick cloud trawled slowly overhead, the air crisp and dry. Not a sound stirred the forest other than the crunch of snow beneath hoof and foot. Augum’s thoughts dwelled on Mya, Ms. Jenkins, and Haylee. The former two had perished, but what happened to Haylee? Could she still be saved? It was torment, not knowing. She deserved her freedom regardless of what she had done in school.

Mr. Goss had them stop outside the village. He made the girls wait with Mrs. Stone, taking Augum with him. Sparrow’s Perch was riddled with Legion bodies, but not one was Tridian. While Mr. Goss gathered provisions, Augum quietly searched for a horse, finding a black Legion warhorse nearby. Mr. Goss soon emerged and they returned to the group. “So they left one behind after all,” Leera said with a smile.

“And we should have enough food and blankets to last us the journey,” Mr. Goss said. “I refilled our skins of water and found us some tents too.” He proceeded to feed the horses, starting with the new arrival. “Leland, come ride with your father so the two adventurers can ride together.”

Leland moaned, allowing his father to pick him up off the saddle and place him on the new horse.

Augum turned to Leera. “Stuck with me once again.”

She sighed dramatically. “Whatever will I do?”

“Take the back.”

She smirked. “Forget it. I’ve got the reins,” and reached out a hand.

“Fine …” He took it and hauled himself up, grabbing her waist.

Soon the group paced east on a course Mr. Goss surmised would take them directly to the Waxman farm, barring any encounters with the Legion. As they rode, the trio recounted the entirety of their adventures to Mrs. Stone, avoiding the subject of her husband and One Eye for now. They also informed her about the three things Sydo passed on to Sparkstone—that if he claimed all seven scions he’d be killed; that all the portals to Ley but the one in Castle Arinthian have been destroyed; and that there existed a recipe to make a portal to Ley without a scion.

“That is unfortunate,” Mrs. Stone wheezed at the mention of these last three things, “but perhaps inevitable.”

“Hey, whatever happened to that bag of snot anyway?” Leera asked.

Augum realized the girls hadn’t witnessed the spectacle. He shook his head. “It all started with Sydo giving me the lamest slap—” and he went on to recount what happened to Sydo Ridian the Fourth, and how he met his most unfortunate end, though the comedic moments were greatly muted by the past evening’s events.

“That poor, foolish boy,” Bridget said in a broken voice.

“He was a traitor that got what he deserved,” Leera said. “Just wish I could have seen him smeared into the manure.”

“Don’t say that—”

“But he—”

“Stop it. I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”

They passed through the snowy forest without incident, circumnavigating the southern side of Mt. Barrow before breaking out into the open Tallows. A wind had kicked up as clouds clumped overhead, casting a gray pall over the day. As there was no one around, the trio practiced their arcanery, especially the more difficult spells such as Push, Disarm and Slam, the latter only when they were far enough away from the forest to insure they would not be heard. By the time evening arrived, the trees had all but disappeared behind them, leaving the dim outline of Mt. Barrow, its peak lost in cloud.

Somewhere along that vast empty plain, they stopped to set up camp. After erecting tents and feeding and watering the horses, they bundled in blankets around a cozy fire and ate from their provisions. Mrs. Stone seemed to feel a little better, her eyes remaining open as she watched the curling flames. Finally, during a lull in conversation, Augum thought it a good time to fulfill his promise.

“Nana, I have something to tell you,” he said, while Bridget and Leera instinctively stiffened.

Mrs. Stone turned her weary face to him.

“I told you how we had to leave Ley because they were threatening to wipe our memories. Well, what I didn’t tell you was … about Great-grandfather … he saved us by leaving Ley with us, and, um—”

“—and he passed,” Mrs. Stone finished for him in a gravelly voice, giving the slightest of nods, coughing. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I should have known Thomas would have gone with you. We discussed the possibility—only should something happen, that is. Though I rather had it in mind that he teleport you out of Ley. I told him you were more than capable of taking care of yourselves.” She shook her head and smiled. “That old fool and his nonsense …”

“Nana … he … he did it to prove that immortality couldn’t be taken beyond the boundary of Ley. Leaving aged him before our eyes. He said it was important we saw eternal life couldn’t be taken beyond Ley.”

“Knowledge is important. It is like fire—if it is not kept alight, it shall extinguish. Once in a while, a reminder is needed.”

“There is more, Nana. He said … he said to tell you that he loved you.” He thought of Mya and a lump formed in his throat. Mrs. Stone smiled sweetly and nodded, eyes distant as if remembering something warm and beautiful.

“It is as it was meant to be,” she said.

After a reflective time silently watching the fire, Augum began telling her about a strange old man they met named One Eye. He told her about his odd shop; the supper and bathhouse; learning the Slam spell; and the dragon-tooth necklace, which led him to recount what One Eye told them about finding it in an ancient mine. At this last mention, Mrs. Stone surrendered a chortle.

“Indeed I thought your description sounded familiar. I daresay I find myself astounded to hear William is still alive—”

Augum exchanged a glance with the girls. He’d have to tell her about his death too, though he didn’t want to break her fond reminiscence.

“I remember that adventure well,” Mrs. Stone went on. “We were indeed a fearsome trio—William Smith the Plotter, Jordan Winters the Prankster, and I, Anna Atticus Stone, the young, ambitious warlock. A little too ambitious, perhaps. Yes, we found a supposed dragon tooth, though everyone doubted its authenticity. Dragons, after all, were the stuff of children’s tales, and still are.”

Augum then told her everything that happened with the witch’s poem and Hangman’s Rock, including smashing the supposed dragon tooth and passing a message on to her via the witch.

“So doesn’t that prove dragons were once real?” he asked.

“I am in the dark in this matter as much as you. Yes, once in a while a mysterious skull would turn up, but it was always dismissed as some sort of ancient creature long extinct, anything but a dragon. Who is to say that this supposed dragon tooth was not itself something even the witch mistook?”

He had to acknowledge she might be right, but it was too tempting to believe the tooth was real.

“Witches are the main reason the common folk fear arcanery,” Mrs. Stone continued. “They are the source of much superstition. I shudder to think how many died from false accusations. A good number of spell words are said to have their origin in their ancient tongue, and thus a great amount of knowledge has been exiled from places of learning due to their influence. Legend says that in olden times, witches would snatch unprotected children in the night, dragging them to hell.”

“Mother used to scare me with stories like that when I misbehaved,” Leera said.

“Didn’t seem to work,” Bridget said with a sly smile.

“Everyone has heard the tales. Witches communicate with that terrible plane, so far removed from Ley. Necromancy, too, draws its power from the same well, and so we should be wary of any such interactions. Though it is said when Occulus fell, the witches lost a lot of their power and it was safe to travel the night again.”

“But witches do exist, just like Ley exists,” Augum said. “Does that mean Hell exists too?”

Mrs. Stone paused a moment. “That is a word assigned by millennia of contradictory beliefs, but behind the word lie ancient arcane stories, stories lost to mortal time. All I can definitively say is that, if it exists, there is much we do not understand of Hell, as there is little we understand of Ley.”

“So I guess hellhounds actually could come from Hell …” Leera said.

Mrs. Stone fought of a wracking cough. “Mercy, I fear I may be coming down with something.”

“I’ll make tea,” Bridget said, placing snow in a kettle before setting it over the fire.

“Thank you, my dear. Now, in old mythology, all things ugly come from Hell, and all things beautiful from Ley. A rather simplistic view, but that is why it is myth. Whatever kind of plane it is, Hell has always been a great source of power for witches and necromancy. Consider yourself lucky, Augum. Many a man has fallen prey to a misspoken word when performing a witch’s spell.”

She patted his hand. “Do not concern yourself so, great-grandson. Real or not, what is important is that we are alive and together.”

“Not all of us,” he blurted.

She watched him a moment. “You have all witnessed more than your fair share of death. I wish it were not so, but we live in turbulent times.” She glanced skyward. The clouds snailed along, darkening with the night. “When my strength returns, we shall perform a memorial ceremony.”

They sat a little while, watching the flames ebb.

Augum stirred the fire. “I should tell you about what happened to One Eye, Nana,” and at last, he recounted the events that unfolded after the Legion had showed up at the caravan. “… and in the end, One Eye sacrificed himself for us. He said … he said to tell you that he was sorry and … and grateful.”

Mrs. Stone let silence pass before replying. “Sorry and grateful … well, he is quite forgiven, that I assure you. You see, when we were young—that is, before I met Thomas—we were … an
item
, if you want to call it that—”

Bridget and Leera exchanged blushing looks.

“—that was all a very long time ago, mind you. Anyhow, many years passed when I received word that William Smith had become an Arcaner. Arcaners are warlocks devoted to the old ways of chivalry and honorable arcane combat, ways that have almost gone extinct with such ruthless foes as Attyla the Mighty, Occulus, Narsus, Lividius, and others throughout history. One could say they are the knight version of the warlock. Unfortunately, there is little room for honor in this day and age. Yes, William was noble, great and honorable. I am content for him. Surely he would have said it was a good death.”

After another long silence, Augum finally drew up the courage to ask what’s been nagging him for some time. “Nana, why did so many sacrifice themselves for us?”

She coughed again, harder this time. He reached out to steady her but she waved him off. “For hope, Augum, hope. Remember these words—sacrifice for the good of all is the greatest strength of the benevolent—and the greatest enemy of the selfish. No one fights the Legion in Solia—no one. And why is that so? Because the threat comes from
within
. When the Tiberrans invaded hundreds of years ago, the king rallied the common folk to protect Solia. The same happened when the Canterrans and Nodians invaded, and they have invaded scores of times. That is why we have the Spears.”