Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  “Ah, a young necrophyte. Look here men—witness the future of the Legion. Commander Tridian has already filled me in on your efforts, young man. You have reaped honor upon the cause. I shall reward you with personal instruction.”

  “My lord, I am extremely grateful.” A pause, in which Augum imagined Robin’s stupid face bowing down and kissing Sparkstone’s boots.

  “I come bearing you a gift,” Robin continued.

  “A gift?”

  “Yes. Him.”

  “You’ve brought me a boy?”

  The crowd chuckled.

  “This is Prince Sydo Ridian the fourth. He is a personal friend of mine. I convinced him his father’s death was unfortunate but necessary. He is ready to serve the cause and earn the rewards.”

  Augum glanced at Bridget in alarm. Her face was red, but whether it was from anger, fear, or sadness, he couldn’t tell.

  “My father was always weak,” Prince Sydo said in a pompous voice. “He loved books and council more than anything. He refused to believe in the eternal, but I know the eternal exists, for I have seen the ancient ones for myself. I have been to Ley! I have personally witnessed their arcanery and long life!”

  “Impossible …” someone said.

  “A fable …”

  “The boy curries favor with lies!”

  “Oh, do we have nonbelievers here?” Sparkstone asked. “Because if we do …” a tense pause. “You speak of things your little minds barely understand. This boy speaks true, does he not, Commander Tridian?”

  “He indeed speaks true, my lord. I have questioned him personally. This boy has been to Ley. He has seen the Leyans.”

  “Make no mistake,” Sparkstone said, “the Leyans are real, and they will give us what we desire. I shall extend the lives of all my loyal followers with their knowledge. We shall all reap the rewards.”

  “Hear hear!”

  “Now, young prince, I am sorry about your father, but know this—he died a noble death, a worthy death. He perished because he believed in neither destiny, providence, nor the might of the Legion. He refused to retire humbly. Above all, he refused to give me his support. Thus, he had to be made example of.”

  “My father chose the wrong side. I will not make the same mistake. I had to endure the insufferable companionship of rotten, gutterborn—”

  The crowd gasped and stirred.

  “Begging your pardon, Great One,” Sydo blubbered quickly, “I did not mean to infer—”

  “—that my own son was gutterborn. No, I do not believe you intended to infer such a thing, for if you had, I would have you quartered this moment.”

  A deathly silence.

  “Now tell me, how did you enter Ley?”

  Sydo’s voice was meek. “Through the fountain portal in Castle Arinthian, Sire. The crone—excuse me, your grandmother—opened it with her scion.”

  “Crone is just fine,” Sparkstone said, much to the amusement of the crowd.

  “Also, the, uh, crone destroyed the other portals. The one in Castle Arinthian is the only one left.”

  “Then she is a fool for leaving it. You and I have something in common, boy. I am the rightful heir to that scion and you are the rightful heir to the Solian throne. When the time comes, if you continue to show your loyalty, the throne shall return to you. When I become emperor, I will want someone … loyal … in the Solian seat.”

  “Oh, Sire … that is my only dream—to serve you, I mean.”

  The crowd laughed a little.

  “Ah, but do you not wield any other ambitions?”

  “Robin told me what I could become. He says I have great potential. I want to be powerful like him, and one day, maybe even like you.”

  More chuckling.

  “And … and I do not care to traipse about with minor spells! That is why I wish to become a necrophyte—”

  “Is that so?”

  “That is so, my lord, and I offer proof of my newfound loyalty—information of even greater value.”

  Augum barely felt his nails dig into his palms.

  “Go on.”

  “The elders of Ley have said that, should you ever fulfill the Great Quest and come to possess all seven scions, you and the scions would be destroyed—”

  Bridget and Leera gasped, immediately clasping their mouths. Luckily, the tumult from within had drowned them out. Bridget sniffed and hid her face in her hands while Leera held her in comfort. Mya’s almond eyes only reflected fear and confusion.

  That traitor, Augum thought venomously. Even after they had saved his life … they should have left him behind in that cabin. He’d bet it all that Sydo was too cowardly to tell them the other truth he knew, that taking the powers of long life beyond Ley was impossible. He wished he could stick his head through the window and yell that his great-grandfather died to pass that precious information along. He wished he could run in there and punch both Robin and Sydo in the face.

  Sparkstone silenced the crowd. “Are you sure about this, boy? Look at me and say it true.”

  “It is true, Great Lord.”

  “Commander?”

  “The boy speaks true, my lord.”

  “I see. Then I will simply have to find a way around this … ancient measure.”

  “There is more,” Sydo continued. “Magua, one of the elders, said there exists a recipe to make a portal to Ley without using a scion.”

  In the deep silence that followed, the huddled foursome exchanged defeated looks. If there had been any doubts where Sydo’s loyalties lay …

  “That is most interesting. And you say one of the elders, this … Magua … offered this information freely?”

  “She did, Great Lord. I was most surprised myself, but then my sharp memory allowed me to remember these kinds of details—”

  “Enough,” Sparkstone interrupted, pacing. He began speaking in an undertone, as if only to himself. “Some serious research is in order. It would be wise to uncover this alternate method in case my grandmother slithers away again.” He paused, resuming in a firm voice. “Your valuable service to the Legion is duly noted. You shall keep your title as prince, and when the time comes, you will be King of Solia.”

  “A toast to Prince Sydo Ridian the Fourth, heir to Solia!” Commander Tridian said.

  “To the heir of Solia!” the crowd chanted.

  Glasses clinked and congratulations were expressed.

  “Now, we need to find my dear grandmother and lay a trap for her.”

  A pair of heavy boots stepped close. The foursome froze. The butcher of Sparrow’s Perch, of Bridget and Leera’s families, stood on the other side of those shutters. Scions hummed. Augum envisioned them hovering around golden armor. He expected those shutters to fly open and a golden-mailed hand grab him.

  “I have come up with a plan, my lord,” Commander Tridian said.

  Sparkstone stepped away from the window. “Good, you can tell me all about it later, right now I want to see my son. We have much to do together—” but he was interrupted by someone bursting in through the doors.

  “Begging your pardon, my lords, my liege—” a panting guard said. “The prisoners—they’re loose. All of them!”

  Augum exchanged a wild look with the girls. Cled!

  A flurry of activity started immediately, with commands issued and calls thrown up. A moment later, Tridian’s quarters were empty.

  “That swine brat pile of dung heap,” Leera muttered, still holding Bridget, whose shoulder heaved. “Knew he was no good.”

  “I’m going in,” Augum said, opening the shutters.

  Leera grabbed his arm. “Are you mad—?”

  “Trust me.”

  She hesitantly let go. “Just be careful.”

  He nodded and slipped inside, doing his best to ignore the grinding bones in his chest. The floorboards creaked and he stopped. There were shouts outside but no one entered. He glanced around.

  Glasses of wine lay strewn about, some broken in the rush to exit. He tiptoed over
to Tridian’s ornate campaign desk, where he found Blackbite, Mrs. Stone’s blue book on arcaneology, and a small leather bag of coins. There was also a sheepskin map covered with military figurines. He yanked it with great satisfaction before realizing he should have at least studied where the figurines sat.

  He spotted their rucksack in the corner and hurriedly stuffed the items inside.

  The shouts from outside grew louder so he scuttled back through the window, reaching into the rucksack and withdrawing Blackbite. “Here, this should cheer you up.”

  Bridget smiled weakly.

  “My father took Burden’s Edge, but I got Mrs. Stone’s book, a map, and coins. Now let’s get out of here—”

  “Wait—” Leera said. “We’ll never survive out there without winter clothing and food.”

  “What about the trapper’s cabin?”

  “They burnt it down,” Bridget replied, drying her eyes. “Besides, it’s the first place they’ll look.”

  Leera peeked around the barrels. “We have to hurry, it’s mayhem out there.”

  “We could steal some horses,” he said.

  “M’lady Bridget,” Mya began, “one of the first things we saw on the way into town was a stable.”

  “We did, didn’t we? Come on, this way.”

  Bridget led them prowling through the surrounding woods. The village was in chaos—peasants were mistaken for prisoners and beaten; animals ran loose from their pens; groups of black-armored soldiers raided homes, kicking down the doors. The remaining guards fanned out. The group ducked behind a snowy bush as soldiers ran past into the forest chasing a hapless peasant.

  They finally spotted the stable, the last building on the edge of the village. Two horses remained, both palfreys—one chestnut brown, the other cloud gray. Unfortunately, there was also a group of armed Black Guards headed straight for them.

  The foursome huddled in the forest across from the stables.

  “We need those horses,” Augum said, mind racing.

  “I have an idea,” Mya whispered. “I will distract them. You get the horses and go.”

  Bridget’s brows crossed. “And how do you plan to catch up with us?”

  Mya gave her a grave look. As they protested, she shook her head. “It is our only chance! Besides, I would only slow you down. They do not want or need me.” Her brilliant eyes fell upon him. “They want you, Augum.”

  “Mya—” he began, his breath catching.

  “I will be fine. Good luck, my dear lord and ladies,” and before anyone could grab her, she shot out from their hiding spot.

  Just like that, she was gone.

  He was about to call after her when Leera slammed her hand over his mouth. He quickly nodded, agreeing it would have been stupid. They simply had to take the chance Mya afforded them.

  He watched with a knotted stomach as the most beautiful girl he had ever seen ran past the guards, yelling something to the trees opposite, as if there was someone there. Whatever she said worked because the guards immediately gave chase, all but one of them, a big soldier with a double-sided axe.

  “I know what to do,” Leera suddenly said. She crouched down, as if waiting to sprint, the look of a tiger in her eye. “Centeratoraye xao xen.” Her head dropped in readiness. “Get the horses!” A heartbeat after, she set off racing through the snow. Her movements were fluid like a cat, and the last thing the axe-wielding guardsman seemed to expect was an attack from a young girl. Leera pounced on the man with such momentum she knocked him to the ground.

  Meanwhile, Augum and Bridget sprinted for the horses. He jumped onto the gray horse, ribs screaming from the abrupt movement. Bridget mounted the chestnut. The horses whinnied, drawing the attention of some of the guards who had run after Mya, the rest having disappeared in the trees.

  He glanced back to witness Leera jump away from the guard and face one of the soldiers that had turned towards her, a wiry man with a crossbow. Augum shouted out a warning but Leera just stood there, poised with confidence. The soldier aimed carefully and let loose a bolt. Augum’s heart jammed in his throat, but Leera summoned an arcane shield made of pond leaves and the bolt ricocheted off.

  They sprinted toward her as the man fumbled to reload. She wobbled where she stood—Centarro was wearing off. Luckily, she still had the wherewithal to jump onto Bridget’s horse, barely hanging on to the saddle. Bridget helped her up and they galloped away.

  They were riding through the forest with no sense of direction, leaving obvious tracks—it was just a matter of time until the Legion rounded up more horses and gave chase. “Hold on to her!” Augum shouted, raising a hand to ward off low-hanging branches. Plumes of snow exploded with each strike.

  His thoughts drifted to Mya’s brave sacrifice, and he almost turned the horse around, wanting to use Centarro to save her. His heart lurched thinking of not being able to look into those emerald eyes again.

  Evergray Tower

  “I’ll miss her,” Leera mumbled, shivering, breath fogging.

  “She was like a big sister,” Bridget said through chattering teeth.

  Leera nodded. “She was kind of quiet, but I never thought she could be so brave …”

  Augum said nothing, feeling hollow and, strangely, like he had been left behind.

  They had stopped in a shallow valley, lightly wooded and quiet. The clouds were darkening overhead as an ominous black mass approached from the east.

  He worried they would be caught in a storm, which in this cold, meant certain death. Trying not to think about it too much, or Mya, he withdrew Tridian’s map and splayed it across the chestnut’s flank.

  “Where do you think we are?” Bridget asked, rubbing her arms, lips trembling.

  He fingered the map. “There’s Tornvale. Nearest town is Candledale.” He glanced to the east again. “But that storm will overtake us well before we get there.”

  Leera squinted up. “Yeah, but if we made it, we could purchase food and board with the coin.”

  He took a good look at the girls. Their burgundy apprentice robes were quite worn now, hair unkempt, faces dirty, hands bruised. The red welt on the side of Leera’s head ran all the way down her cheek. On top of that, they were hungry, cold, tired, without shelter and, like him, lacked appropriate winter clothing.

  In fact, ever since Mrs. Stone had left the group, everything had gone wrong—his great-grandfather had died, they had suffered imprisonment, and now Mya had most certainly been captured. Even Burden’s Edge was gone. Their possessions consisted of Blackbite, a bag of coin, the blue book on arcaneology, a rucksack, and two palfreys. The only thing they had accomplished was spilling secrets and saving the life of the prince, only to have him turn traitor. Now, they were probably going to freeze to death in a storm, and even if they didn’t freeze to death, the Legion would likely catch up to them, and if not the Legion, maybe some undead walker—

  “Stop it, Aug,” Leera said, voice slowed by the cold.

  “Stop what?”

  “You’re worrying. I can see it on your face.” She gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Mya’s a big girl and can take care of herself. She was always too old for you anyway.”

  “And if they put her to the question?”

  “Don’t think of that. Besides, she’s right, she doesn’t know anything.”

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t try.”

  Leera sighed. “Hold still, I’m tired of staring at all that crusty blood on your face.” She took a bit of snow and gently wiped his face with her sleeve.

  He winced. His nose was still tender.

  She smiled. “Much better. How’s your chest?”

  “Trying to be Mya now?”

  A hurt look passed over her face and she turned away.

  Bridget flashed him a stern look that said he should probably apologize.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  Leera shrugged. “I know.”

  “How’s your side doing?” he asked, remembering that awful
moment the guard shoved his spear at her.

  She didn’t meet his eyes. “Better.”

  The one word answer. She was mad. “Um …” Apologies were hard. “Sorry. For being a jerk and all.”

  Leera glanced back but Augum had returned to the map, not wanting to confront the strange butterfly feeling in his stomach.

  “We have to find shelter. I think we’re here.” He stabbed a lightly wooded and hilly area. Northeast from that spot was a series of branched rivers titled The Creeping Fingers. North of the Fingers stood Blackwood, inked with bony trees, and far north of Blackwood stood Mt. Barrow.

  “We need to lose our trail and find shelter,” he continued, tracing the river branches. “We could ride along the river to here.” He tapped a small dot titled The Ruins of Evergray Tower.

  Leera stood silently observing him before smirking. “Ruins, eh? Sounds exciting.” There was warmth in her dark eyes.

  “Let’s do it then,” Bridget said, “but we have to hurry. Those clouds don’t look right.”

  The trio was soon underway again, trotting through a gently rolling wood that eventually gave way to a snowy plain dotted with wiry shrubs. By the time they came upon the river, a biting wind had kicked up. They dismounted to let the palfreys drink.

  “I’m going to call her Spirit,” Bridget said, watching her horse slurp.

  “I’m not naming mine,” he said, remembering lying atop old Meli while she slowly died.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’ll be harder to let him go.”

  Leera gave him a playful elbow. “You growing up on us now? Don’t be so serious.”

  He shrugged, marveling how carefree she could be under the circumstances. Perhaps she was right though. The weight of all that had happened made him feel older and more responsible, but he was still only fourteen. Well, almost fifteen actually, one year short of becoming a man, but still …

  “Let’s follow the river,” he said. “It’ll obscure our tracks.”

  “Let me take the reins, Bridge,” Leera said. “You rest up.”

  They mounted, trotting close to the bank. His stomach gurgled. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in ages. His thoughts drifted to all the exquisite dishes he ate with Sir Westwood. Plum sauce with chicken, roast leg of lamb, buttered and seasoned potatoes, salt beef, wheels of cheese, even broccoli soup seemed appealing right now. He was torturing himself with these visions, practically tasting each dish on his tongue, when a jagged outline began to take shape across the river. Plumes of snow blew off it in the wind.