Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (7 page)

Augum stared up at the swiftly moving clouds. He gathered the moss blanket around him. In Solia, it would have been pitch-black long ago, except maybe for star or moon light. He lay there a long time as the others slept, thinking about what a strange place this was, when he heard a distant THWOMP.

“Welcome, Anna,” Thomas said. Augum could not see them in the darkness, and could just barely hear what they were saying.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“This is Oba Sassone. He breaks the Vow with me. I brought him to train the childlings in the ancient way.”

“Greetings, Anna Stone.”

“Greetings to you, Oba, and I am grateful for your help. How do they fare?”

“Struggle they do. Soft they are.”

“I expected as much. Time is short and I fear the old way is the only way. Yet it is nothing to what they will feel should they ever get captured.” She sighed. “Forgive me but I am weary, it has been a trying day. I have managed to find and seal the remaining portals, but I left the one to Castle Arinthian. I hesitate to destroy the last remaining connection to Ley until absolutely necessary.” She sighed. “The sky seems to have worsened since I left. What say the elders?”

“We have not discussed the matter or sought council yet,” Thomas replied.

“The Dreadnoughts have woken,” Mrs. Stone said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Augum wondered how she found this stuff out.

“It is as I feared,” she continued. “Lividius has successfully revived Atrius Arinthian. Our grandson’s necromantic powers grow. As for the Dreadnoughts, he will use them to outfit his army. His quest for the scions will plunge the entire world into war.”

“The scions are a means to an end, Anna.”

“They are indeed. He promises eternal life to his subjects, though his true motivations are somewhat of a mystery to me.”

“This we Leyans have encountered before.”

“Yes—Occulus, but he was not aided by scions. I fear kingdoms will fall to the burning sword of his ambitions, and perhaps even join the Legion as the living dead.”

“Are our grandson’s necromantic powers that great?”

“Not yet …”

“Permit this Nodia will not.”

“All things change, Oba Sassone,” Thomas said. “Kingdoms rise and fall, people come and go, knowledge passes. That is the way of it.”

“But how many must die needlessly?” Mrs. Stone asked. “I have given much thought to your earlier words, and I am not convinced handing over the scion is the way. I request to convene the millennials. I must hear the wisdom of the elders.”

“Convene council a mortal cannot.”

“This is true, but I daresay Thomas can.”

“The council has not convened in some time, Anna.”

“This is no trivial matter. It is of dire importance.”

A silence passed. “I will think on it with the wind, Wife, and return an answer in the morning light.”

“So be it.” Mrs. Stone shuffled to bed while Augum lay awake, ruminating over what had been said.

The Millennials

First thing in the morning, Augum whispered to Bridget and Leera all he had overheard from the night before.

“She must fear torture or something if we’re captured,” Bridget said.

“But we don’t know anything,” Leera said.

“Maybe.” Bridget turned to Augum. “You think the council will be convened?”

“Based on what I heard, yes.”

“He’s her husband after all,” Leera added.

“He’s also Leyan,” Bridget said. “They’re subject to their own wisdom. Come on, let’s eat.”

Everyone else was already sitting by the time the trio joined the table. As Augum took his place, he glanced skyward. The weather seemed to have worsened overnight, now a churning maelstrom of black and red clouds. As thick as the grove was, braziers, robes, and hair fluttered in winds that broke through the sentinel of oaks. Was it just a storm, or was something happening?

Breakfast dragged on without a word about the elders. Augum didn’t want to ask because he felt it inappropriate he had overheard their conversation in the first place. At its conclusion, Mrs. Stone glanced to Thomas.

“Let it be so,” he only said.

She stood up and cleared her throat. “At midday today we shall convene with the millennials. Until then, you are to train.”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused.

She glanced skyward as everyone stood, her wrinkles deepening.

“Why is the sky like that, Nana?”

“A question I shall pose to the elders. Come, you are in need of training. I fear dark times ahead.”

Augum, Bridget and Leera glanced at each other before following.

“Thomas has spoken of your previous lessons,” Mrs. Stone went on as they joined her husband in the windy clearing. “Consider yourselves very lucky. Centarro is a difficult and rare 3rd degree spell. Not even I know it. I trust you will do your utmost to learn it.”

Augum shared a grin with Leera—3rd degree, off-the-books, and not even Mrs. Stone knew it.

“We will, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget replied with a polite nod.

“This morning you will continue practicing Centarro with Thomas, while Oba Sassone trains with the prince and Mya.”

“But I also wish to practice Centarro,” the prince said in a voice tinged with petulance.

“Solian prince want his feathered pillow. Maybe Oba tie him to statue.”

Sydo glanced over to his frozen effigy and blanched.

Thomas’ black eyes fell upon the prince. “Our greatest fight is always with ourselves, Sydo Ridian. It is our choices that make us who we are, that determine our fate.”

The prince slowly nodded, still staring at the imposter.

Mya reached for his hand. “Come, Your Highness, we shall endure together.”

Her touching his hand made Augum’s heart constrict. He turned away only to catch Bridget staring at Mya and Sydo too. She flashed a hesitant smile and pretended to be busy fixing her robe.

Mrs. Stone stepped apart from the group, invoked arcane words, and imploded with a mighty THWOMP. Augum wondered where she was off to now.

The trio turned to Thomas, who started by going over what they had learned yesterday. He then went on to show examples of the use of Centarro in situations other than combat, such as jumping onto an exact spot; focusing and remembering details such as clothing, surroundings, and words; accomplishing complex tasks like throwing something and having it rebound a certain way; running from pursuers, and a host of other creative uses. He also spent a lot of time explaining how to deal with the after-effects.

Although at first they had failed to cast the spell on their own, Thomas would say, “Let us situation together,” and cast it on them for the experience. It was the most fun they ever had learning a spell, but it was also very challenging, for Thomas pushed them to concentrate unlike ever before. The after-effects of the spell were particularly draining, fogging and slowing the mind and reflexes. The trio soon came to understand just how dangerous those effects could be.

When Augum was running from a mock pursuer, he slammed into a tree. In that stupid state, if it had been a cliff there, he was sure he would have run straight off it. Even just walking around, he would trip and get tangled, not to mention the countless times he got lost—a remarkable accomplishment in such a small area.

They also went over the pronunciation again. Centeratoraye xao xen —a difficult phrase to utter under any circumstance, let alone in the heat of battle.

Nonetheless, by the end of that morning, with Thomas’ efficient teaching methods, Augum became the first to successfully cast Centarro on his own. The duration was short but felt much longer. Leera and Bridget congratulated him, even asking for pointers. He was more than happy to explain how he did it.

Thomas reminded them that with diligent practice, they could learn to minimize the side effects, extend the duration, and increase the focus. “… nuance, awareness, assertiveness, forethought, and creativity,” he said, hands loosely by his side, “that is the key to this spell.”

The morning passed quickly, and at midday Mrs. Stone materialized with a loud THWOMP, gnarled walking stick in hand.

“Welcome, Anna,” Thomas said.

Mrs. Stone gave her much younger-looking husband a curt nod. “Thomas.”

Watching the way they greeted each other, with neither warmth nor affection, made Augum wonder if there were any feelings left between the old married couple. Perhaps the fact that Thomas was Leyan prohibited it, or perhaps the years simply washed those affections away. In any case, they appeared to be mere acquaintances now. Yet Augum hoped that that would never happen to him. If he was ever going to get married, he wanted to be with his love forever.

Mya appeared from the woods carrying a handful of different-colored leaves, while Sydo stopped his training with Oba and approached, cheeks red, hair askew. Earlier, he had made the mistake of whining to Oba, receiving quite the rebuke in turn, something to the effect of donkey droppings having more courage.

Mrs. Stone straightened. “The time has come to speak with the millennials.” Her eyes flicked between the trio. “You are to be silent and civil. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused.

Thomas gestured at the swaying oaks. “As custom demands, we shall walk. Prepare yourselves—the song of the wastes is as strong as the wind.” He led them through the forest and out into the open where a ripping gale raked bare skin with sand. The visibility was almost nil. Those that had hoods drew them. Sydo hid his face in the crook of his elbow. Thomas and Oba were the only ones seemingly unaffected by the blasting, not even closing their eyes.

Mrs. Stone let the young pass, taking the rear with Oba. As Augum put one foot in front of the other, he felt his thoughts slowly darken. Why couldn’t Thomas arcane something up to block the wind, or even teleport them there? Why did they always have to do things the hard way? Why why why …

So immersed was he in shadowy ruminations he tripped over something.

“Watch yourself, peasant!” the prince shouted, standing and brushing himself off. “You blind clod—did you not seen me stumble?”

Augum felt his anger rise. “Well I
was
going to apologize—”

“Take that apology and—”

“Why are you two always fighting!” Bridget yelled above the din, turning on them. “I’m so sick of it!”

“What are you talking about,” Augum began, “I didn’t—”

Leera grabbed her head. “Ugh, why don’t you all just shut up—”

“Enough!” Mrs. Stone said, waving her stick to shoo them along. “Keep walking and think of good tidings, we dare not dally.” She removed the scion from within her robe and released it to hover around her. “This should help,” she said before returning to the rear of the line.

“Lowly commoner,” Sydo muttered as the group resumed the march.

Augum restrained himself from replying and followed, but his eyes kept returning to Sydo, bumbling along just ahead. That stupid doublet, the nasty hair—he hasn’t changed one bit. It just went to show that even a Leyan’s ancient arcanery couldn’t change a brat.

He simmered like this for a while, until eventually his thoughts boiled over and he “accidentally” stepped on the prince’s heel.

Sydo whirled about, face purple. “How dare you step on the royal heel, you insolent bumpkin cur, you base bastard of the lowest breeding, you gutterborn—”

Augum saw the Penderson brats dancing around the tree he took cover in, calling him names, throwing things until he fell. He listened to poor old Meli’s pulse fade and disappear beneath him. He felt Dap’s fist buckle his innards and drain his breath. He saw Robin Scarson leading an entire village with laughter …

He did not feel the single lightning ring form around his wrist. What he did feel was a gratifying electrical surge rage up his body, discharge through his arm, and strike Sydo square in the stomach. The prince shot backward as if hit by a battering ram, plowing into Bridget and Leera, toppling them.

For a moment, Augum didn’t know where he was. He expected all those villains he saw laying in a heap, yet there was only Sydo, Bridget and Leera, along with the brief scent of burnt flesh.

Mrs. Stone ran past him. “In the name of all that is good, child, what have you done—” Mya ran from the front of the line to help too. He saw her face and his stomach plummeted. Please not her. Someone stop her from seeing this—

A dark metallic hand gripped his shoulder and swung him around. “Cowardly dog …” A curved blade loosened from a belt.

Augum collapsed to his knees, eyes unfocused.

“He’s hurt something awful!” Mya called from behind, a voice whose sweetness would never be directed at him again, not after what he had just done.

“Oh, no no no—” he heard Bridget say.

Oba’s curved blade rose into the air. “Such treachery never has Oba seen. Death Augum Stone deserves!”

Augum closed his eyes, heart beating like a war drum, ready for the slash that would end his miserable and guilty existence—

“Oba Sassone, the childling has fallen prey to the song of the wastes.” It was the deep voice of his great-grandfather.

“Thomas Stone, to death he must be put for such betrayal—”

“Oba Sassone also listens to the song,” Thomas replied, voice as cool as the wind.

Augum opened his eyes to see Mrs. Stone standing over him alongside Oba, her face livid, eyes full of terrible disappointment.

“Nana, I … I don’t know what … I didn’t mean for—”

“You have the madness of your father. I was a fool to accept you as my apprentice.”

“No, please, you don’t mean that—”

“Oh, I
do
, Augum Stone, I do. You are no longer my great-grandson! I hereby disown you and cast you out!” The scion floated near him, darkening with a silent storm, the hum sounding like a thousand angry wasps.

“Kill him!” shrieked a girl’s voice. Augum turned to find Bridget’s face contorted with a wild fury he had never seen before.

“It’s your fault!” Leera said, pointing a finger in his face. “You killed my parents, you killed everyone!”

“Not you too,” he whispered.

Mrs. Stone’s eyes flashed as she readied to smite him into oblivion. “Anna—” Thomas placed a bronze hand on her raised arm. “Enough. Something has changed. Not even the scion protects you as before. Allow me.”