Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  “Right, um—Commander.”

  “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  “No, sir, I don’t, but I want to join. I want to be part of the cause.”

  “Why haven’t you joined earlier?”

  “I’ve been prevented by this meddling old man and my father.”

  “Fathers don’t always know best, do they now?”

  “I agree, sir, wholeheartedly.”

  “Eager young buck. Good … very good. We could always use men like you. I believe this caravan has held the men hostage long enough, anyway.”

  “But we had a deal, my dear commander,” One Eye said. “I got to keep my men for—”

  “Yes, yes, I remember the deal very well, and I am a man of my word.” The Blade of Sorrows stopped before Justinius, placing hands on his shoulders. “That is, unless there is some new information that changes said deal.”

  Justinius didn’t blink. “They’re here. I just spoke to them—”

  “You mean the younglings, the three wanted younglings of the Legion?” Tridian asked in a mild voice, as if he had been expecting this outcome all along.

  “Yes, all three of them, though when I first spoke to them I didn’t know they were the three the Legion was searching for.”

  Augum turned to the girls, now completely visible. Bridget stared at the floor, not bothering to push aside a braid that had fallen across her eyes. Leera just scowled and shook her head. He nodded and raised a finger for them to hold on, trusting his instincts that the time wasn’t right just yet. He returned to the peephole.

  “What do you have to say about all this, old man? Do you not perhaps agree the circumstances have changed?”

  One Eye’s shoulders drooped. “The circumstances have indeed changed, Commander. Though I am afraid you are too late. I have already teleported them away. They are safe and sound as we speak, no doubt wondering what has happened to the funny little caravan they stumbled across. The game is up. You may have my men.”

  “He’s lying.”

  The voice took Augum by surprise. It came from beside the counter, from a spot he could not see. It took a moment for him to realize it was Odo that had spoken.

  Robin marched over and dragged Odo forward by the wrist. “Explain yourself!”

  “I, too, wish to join the Legion. Not as a prisoner, but as a soldier sounding the trumpet as my fellow troops surge into glorious battle.” Odo’s voice shook yet had a tone of defiance. “I’m sick of being the old man’s lackey. One Eye doesn’t have the knowledge to cast Group Teleport. However, he did send his most trusted mule to retrieve a scroll of that very spell from Candledale.” There was resentment in Odo’s voice.

  “You are a traitorous cur,” One Eye said, shaking. “If I was a lesser man, I would strike you down where you stood.”

  Odo’s jaw only stiffened, eyes poised on the Commander.

  “And now for the finishing touch,” Tridian said in a sing-song voice, face-to-face with Odo. “So, my new friend … where are they?”

  “They’re right here, inside this wagon.” Odo pointed to the scrap pile. “Behind there.”

  Suddenly One Eye began laughing. He threw his cane aside and cracked his hands together, stepping between the scrap pile and everyone else. “You know, I haven’t been in a proper battle in a good while. You did not really believe I would simply go along to some dungeon and die under the lash without showing you what these old bones were made of, did you? I am a 16th degree Arcaner, my dear man! Now, Commander, in the old way—show your stripes.”

  But One Eye knew Tridian had no arcane skill, Augum thought wryly.

  Sixteen rings of glowing ivy coiled around the old man’s arm. Everyone took a step back except for Commander Tridian, who merely folded his arms.

  “So your wheezing ways have been a ploy all along. Clever and impressive, all things considering. And an Arcaner! I must confess I did suspect this. Nonetheless, I believe by your own ancient code, it is unbefitting to contest without arcane or steel provocation.”

  One Eye rubbed his beard as Augum wondered what this Arcaner code business was all about. “Upon reflection, I find you in the right, Commander. To be honest, I am surprised by your knowledge of the arcane arts, especially seeing as you have, if you forgive me for saying so, no talent in the art itself.”

  “I consider it my duty to study my enemies. That includes the Code of the Arcaner. A most noble set of laws. If only some of my own soldiers understood such discipline and virtue.”

  “So we find ourselves in a bit of a stalemate,” One Eye said. “In any case, I see no point keeping the young saplings hidden. Come forth, all three of you!”

  They stepped out. Augum only hoped the old man had a plan. He thought One Eye might be able to take the soldiers all on at such a high degree. Perhaps he was concerned about the safety of the men, women, and children of the caravan.

  The two groups eyed each other as the trio approached. The Legion, along with Justinius and Odo, stood in the corner by the door. In between stood One Eye, back hunched, arm rippling with arcane energy. Many eyes flicked between that shining arm and the trio.

  Tridian, the only one at ease in his group, watched Augum for a time before his steely gaze settled on the old man. “You know, throughout history, it has often been said the downfall of the noble Arcaner has been his code. That is why there are so few of you left alive today.”

  “That may be so, Legionnaire, and although I have succumbed to being nothing more than a lowly merchant, hobbled by his beggarly infatuations with things, I have not forgotten my oath.”

  “We are not as different as you think, you and I. Sure, we may fight for different causes, but we do have a sense of honor. Duty unto death, if you will.”

  “Is that so? From what I hear, you are a cold-blooded, ruthless murderer. A servant to the lowest depravations. Something tells me those are not mere rumors.”

  The Blade of Sorrows massaged his neck, glanced to the towering shelves full of countless trinkets, and smiled. “We are all servants to our pleasures.”

  Robin scowled. “Commander, we have plenty of men outside, let’s just take them—” Tridian flashed him a silencing look.

  Robin stepped back and swallowed.

  “Forgive the boy, he has much to learn about honor. Though he is correct—we do have a lot more men out there. We could overwhelm you and the caravan. Besides, all it would take is a single unaccounted for crossbow bolt and one of those traitorous younglings dies.”

  “Indeed, but if you truly thought it would be that easy, you would have done it by now, Commander. Since you are knowledgeable in the arcane way, you must be aware of the potential of a 16th degree Arcaner. Further, you must surely account for the many rare off-the-book spells I happen to have learned on my travels.”

  “I think I see where you are going with this, old man. I was wrong about you. You are not really an entertainer, you are a bargainer, and just as before, you wish to bargain, like the merchant you are. It fits perfectly with the code, does it not?”

  “As it so happens, it does.”

  “Then let it be so. Once we bargained for the keeping of your men. Now let us bargain for the lives of the three younglings by your side, three wanted fugitives, one of whom happens to be the Lord of the Legion’s son. Are you aware of that, old man? Are you aware that the lightning boy standing beside you is the Lord of the Legion’s own son? Are you aware of his value?”

  Bridget and Leera shifted beside Augum.

  One Eye did not even turn. “As it so happens, I am, my dear commander.”

  So he knew all along …

  “Then allow me to ask a question and appeal to the clever merchant standing before me. Why bother defending him? Turning him over would make you richer than any man known. The Lord of the Legion would reward you with eternal life and riches you could only dream of.”

  Tridian glanced around the shop and slowly shook his head. “You could stop living in filth. Think of it—a c
astle of your own, with men to command and do your every deed. Is that not your dream?”

  Augum looked to One Eye, who slowly stroked his beard, and realized the Blade of Sorrows had struck a chord. “Except it’s a lie—!” he blurted. “My father can’t give eternal life!”

  “Those words are treason!” Robin shouted, eyes burning with patriotic fervor.

  “No, it’s true!” Leera said, glancing to every face. “We saw the proof with our own eyes, we—”

  “ENOUGH!” the Blade of Sorrows shouted, the color rising to his face. “Spare us your brainwashed antics. Your answer, bargainer.”

  One Eye glanced to the trio as if calculating if they were telling the truth, or perhaps estimating their worth. Then he winked before turning back to Tridian.

  “It is a most tempting and alluring offer, Commander. You are a clever man, not to be underestimated. Appealing to the merchant in me would usually work, except there is something you are quite unaware of.”

  The Blade of Sorrows raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be, old man?”

  “I was once friend, and consider myself still a friend, to Anna Atticus Stone, and beside me, shining the light of a blissful memory for an old man such as I, stands her great-grandson. Do you honestly believe I would entertain any riches and paltry baubles as trade for his life, or for that matter, for his friends? Do you not realize that as one gets older those riches and baubles become less and less valuable?”

  “No, I suppose you would not, for that would most surely break your precious code.” Tridian rubbed his wrist, contemplating his next move. The soldiers stirred behind him while Robin only glared at Augum. Haylee, on the other hand, wrung her hands, a troubled look on her face.

  Tridian crossed his arms. “Very well then, offer your terms.”

  “You may have my caravan, all my artifacts, and my men,” One Eye replied immediately. “For that, we are to have a days’ head start and horses.”

  “You, the fugitives, and a days’ travel?” Tridian’s pale eyes swept over the shelves. “For this junk? Surely you jest.”

  One Eye’s face crinkled with a smile. “Ah, I did not think you would like that offer much. Very well then, let us up the stakes. Caravan and men confiscated. The three younglings on their own, half a days’ lead on horseback. I stay behind to insure you do not follow. Once time expires, I disappear and you may give chase.”

  Tridian’s lips thinned with a smile of his own. “Not quite. Allow me to counter. Caravan. Men. Fugitives have a third of a days’ head start on horseback, but—” and Tridian raised a finger indicating the crux of the matter was at hand, “the two necrophytes get to give chase after one hour, and you turn yourself in after a third of a day expires.”

  “No—” Bridget said. “You let One Eye go and it’s a deal, otherwise forget it.”

  Tridian chuckled and shook his head in patronizing fashion.

  One Eye glanced to the trio.

  “Don’t do it, sir,” Augum said.

  “Not unless you are allowed to get away,” Leera added.

  The old man’s good eye locked on each of them before turning back to the Blade of Sorrows. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, as if communicating silently.

  “Let it be so then,” One Eye said.

  “NO!” the trio chorused together.

  Tridian stepped forward and offered his hand. “Give me your word on the ancient Code of the Arcaner.”

  One Eye took it. “You have my word as a merchant and by the laws set down by the Code of the Arcaner. On my honor.”

  “We’ll be outside waiting.” Tridian snapped his fingers and his entire gang, including Odo and Justinius, dutifully filed out of the caravan, leaving the trio alone with One Eye. Robin smirked as he left while Haylee seemed to flash a sympathetic look.

  Rivalry

  “Are they going to let you go?” Augum asked when the wagon door shut behind Haylee. One Eye did not respond, allowing his arm to expire, darkening the room a touch. He tried to pick up his cane from the floor. Bridget helped, handing it to him, eyes moist.

  The old man gave no response, instead shuffling over to the counter. He picked up the loupe and the parchment of tiny scrawl detailing the Slam spell. He pushed both into Bridget’s hands, his voice quiet. “Please take this.”

  Bridget sniffed, rolled up the parchment, and buried it in the rucksack along with the loupe.

  One Eye reached into his shirt, removed the alleged dragon tooth amulet, and placed it around Augum’s neck. “I want you to have this, young man, for courage.”

  Augum fingered its jagged edges. He hesitated to speak, swallowing hard instead.

  “Sir, please—” Bridget began, but One Eye raised his hand and she fell silent. He glanced at them all with his remaining good eye.

  “I am older than you think. This world tires me. When you see Anna, tell her …” He took a breath before continuing. “Tell her William Smith is grateful, and that … and that he is sorry.”

  Augum could only nod, feeling unworthy and hollow. Yet another message to take to his Nana, the first being the final words of his great-grandfather.

  The old man raised his chin. “This is your chance. Ride west, find Bartholomew before they do, and read the scroll. Get to Anna as quick as you can. Think you can handle the necrophytes?”

  Leera’s face went hard. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, come then.” One Eye led them to the door, taking one last look around his shop. He smiled, nodded, and opened the door.

  Around thirty Black Guard soldiers stood outside in the snow, weapons sheathed. The Blade of Sorrows stood in front, Haylee and Robin nearby. Other soldiers were rounding up the personnel of the caravan.

  “William, what’s to happen to us?” Marta asked, holding her apron while stepping away from a spear-wielding soldier.

  One Eye turned to her, face heavy. “I am sorry about this, Marta. You will be all right though, I assure you. Please give my blessings to your family.”

  Tridian turned to the crowd. The women quietly wept while the men looked on with anxious faces. “You are going to be taken into custody. Some of you will see service on the front. Others will work in smithies, in stables, in officer’s quarters as servants. Some of you may even go free. In any case, you need not concern yourselves. You will be fed and you will have a roof over your heads. You will work, and you will even be paid. My officers will see to the details.”

  Tridian waved dismissively and the crowd was pushed to march southward in the direction of Tornvale. Augum watched the haggard faces as they passed. He sincerely hoped these poor people wouldn’t end up in the same prison the trio had escaped. He wished there was something he could do to help them.

  Haylee watched them shuffle by, her face turned away from Robin and the soldiers, a hand over her mouth.

  One Eye stood nearby, hands shaking on his cane, watching his people go.

  “Your filthy beasts—” Justinius said, throwing the gray palfrey’s reins to Augum, Spirit’s to the girls.

  Augum made sure the blankets and rucksack were secured before mounting his horse. He glanced at the many youthful faces of the soldiers. They glared as if he were a criminal getting away, all except Justinius, who smirked. Those men truly believed in the Legion cause, but just what was that cause about? War? The Great Quest? Eternal life for all? Or was it about taking orders, fitting in, doing what you were told? The question echoed in his brain as he watched the backs of the people bobbing along southward, struggling for footing in the snow.

  Robin gave him a wolfish grin. “Catch up to you soon.”

  Augum squared his jaw. “Looking forward to it.”

  One of the soldiers brought forth a wooden box. He opened it and reached inside, retrieving a large golden hourglass with purple sand inside.

  Tridian strolled over and flipped the hourglass. The sand started trickling. “You have one hour.”

  One Eye raised a frail hand. “Good luck.”

&n
bsp; Bridget mounted Spirit behind Leera, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Goodbye, sir. We’ll never forget—” but she couldn’t finish, burying her head into Leera’s back.

  Leera turned Spirit. “We promise to tell Mrs. Stone what you said.”

  Augum fingered the black tooth around his neck. “Goodbye, sir, and … thank you.”

  The old man’s face crinkled with a warm smile.

  The winter sun had begun to set as the three galloped away, Leera and Bridget leading on Spirit, Augum just behind. He tried not to think about what would happen to the amiable old man. One Eye, follower of the Code of the Arcaner, once known as William Smith the Plotter, had, like many others, sacrificed himself for them.

  They followed the tracks from Bartholomew’s horse, keeping an eye on the horizon for any sign of him. Augum occasionally glanced astern, watching the caravan quickly shrink in the distance, now only visible from the crests of gently rolling hills.

  “Robin and Haylee must be after us by now,” Bridget called.

  Leera scoffed. “Only if the Blade of Sorrows kept his word and hasn’t loosed all his men.”

  As stars began twinkling overhead, Spirit slowed.

  Augum craned his neck. “What’s going on, Bridge, you two see anything ahead?”

  “No, we don’t … we think something’s wrong with Spirit …”

  His own palfrey began to whinny and cough. When he looked closer, he noticed white foam around his mouth. “What’s wrong, boy?”

  Spirit suddenly collapsed under the girls. The gray followed immediately. Both had plopped down into a sitting position before falling to their sides, allowing the trio to step off without harm.

  “I think they’ve been poisoned,” Augum said, petting the gray’s flank. It nickered anxiously.

  Bridget dropped to her knees and flung her arms around Spirit’s neck. “No …”

  Leera tried to get Spirit to stand by tugging on her reins, but the palfrey’s breath was rapid and wheezy, eyes half-closed. “Damn them …”

  Augum watched as the rising and falling of the horses’ flanks slowed, until they were completely still. He remembered Meli dying in a similar way. That old beloved mule, his only friend for so long …