Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  They struggled in this manner, exhausting every word of the dense scroll, until Mr. Goss asked them to break for supper

  Mr. Bawdings

  Augum dutifully took a turn helping Bridget eat with the reed straw. His mind drifted to the Legion, wondering if the reason they passed through Sparrow’s Perch had anything to do with them. Had the Legion received word from the Blade of Sorrows somehow? It didn’t seem likely as Robin would’ve said they were heading to Antioc. If anything, that’s where they should be searching for them …

  As Augum, Leera and Haylee helped Mr. Goss clear the table, there suddenly came a series of taps at the trap door. Everybody froze except Mr. Goss, who smiled broadly while wiping his hands with a cloth.

  “Ah, that’s Mr. Bawdings’ secret knock!” He ascended the steps as Leera looked through the orb just in case, nodding her approval a moment later.

  Mr. Goss yanked on the rope and opened the trap door. “Hedrick! How good to see you!”

  “Why Albert, you’re looking as feisty as a squirrel over nuts,” the man wheezed as if out of breath. “Still alive in this little hole?”

  “We manage, but I regret to report that you missed a hot supper.”

  “Well, now I am disturbed.” Bawdings huffed his large frame down the steps, dressed in a merchant tunic and turned down boots, a sack over his shoulder. “But how about a touch of whiskey for a weary traveler?” A grimy hand slid through salt and pepper hair that matched his beard.

  Mr. Goss closed the trap door and pulled the rope. “Ran out months ago. Would ale suffice?”

  “Most certainly.” His head swiveled to Augum and the others. “Taking in stragglers?”

  “These are friends of Leland.”

  “Not all of us,” Leera muttered, casting an evil eye at Haylee, who squirmed in her seat.

  Mr. Bawdings reached into his tunic, pulled out a large silver flask, and took a long pull, letting out a burp after. “Ah … nothing like expelling a wee bit o’ air, eh?”

  Leera chuckled while Haylee stared with a look of revulsion.

  Mr. Goss gestured to a chair. “How was the journey?”

  Bawdings let the sack fall to the floor, stole a chair from the dining table as if he had not seen Bridget lying there, and plopped down by the hearth. “Barely avoided bandits upon departing Antioc, not to mention the Legion.”

  Bawdings’ eyes fell upon Bridget at last. He sucked on the flask again, which was starting to sound empty, before scratching the shirt over his large belly. “Girl all right?”

  “I am afraid she is not doing so well. She has a back injury and needs the services of an arcane healer.”

  “Oh.” Bawdings placed his flask to his eye and squinted. “Most unfortunate,” he muttered, retrieving a second, dirtier flask from his pocket.

  “Yes, well, I was really hoping you could help with the matter.”

  Mr. Bawdings’ eyes shifted to Augum and Leera as he fumbled with the cap of his flask. “I don’t know, me even being here …”

  Mr. Goss began slicing some bread, voice quiet. “For old friendship’s sake, is there nothing you could do? She lost her family here in the massacre, you know …”

  Augum and Leera nodded along, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

  Mr. Bawdings stood, turned his back, and ran his fingers through his hair. He expelled a mighty breath as if from a wheezing bellows. “I don’t rightly know you realize just what you’re asking me to do. All the healers now work for the Legion. I’d almost have to kidnap one from under their noses.” He stood up and gripped the stone mantel above the hearth, head hanging between his arms. “It’d be the end of me, I say, the end of me …”

  Augum and Leera both made eye contact with Mr. Goss, imploring him to push. Leland abruptly pawed his way over to Mr. Bawdings, moaning while tugging on his tunic and vigorously pointing at Bridget lying paralyzed on the table.

  Mr. Bawdings kneeled down before Leland. “Is that what you also want, little fellow? You want to see ol’ Bawdings roasting over a spit so the poor girl can have a healer?”

  Leland made a few exaggerated nods.

  Bawdings’ shoulders slumped. “Kids are going get me killed, I swear it. Well all right then, I’ll give it a go.”

  Augum and Leera thanked him profusely.

  “Yeah yeah, save it for my memorial.” He picked up the large bag and placed it on the counter. “The supplies you asked for, Albert, plus a little extra.”

  Mr. Goss suddenly wrapped his thin arms around his friend.

  “All right now, easy there, old chum.”

  Mr. Goss let go and retrieved a bag of coins from his room. He placed it into Mr. Bawdings’ hand and enveloped it with both his own. “I wish I could afford to give you more.”

  “Bah, don’t mention it. Just try not to get all mushy on me.”

  “Mr. Bawdings, is there any news from Antioc?” Haylee asked while Leera stiffened.

  Mr. Bawdings pocketed the money and took his seat by the hearth with a groan. “Blackhaven Herald’s about as useful as hog dung. Have to get your news by ear. Legion’s clamping down on the merchants. Food is scarcer by the day. Even heard them magic scrolls are now forbidden.”

  “We call it arcanery, sir,” Leera said.

  “Whatever, I don’t trust magicians enough to—” He suddenly glanced at them. “Don’t tell me you brats are magicians!”

  Leera opened her palms. “We are, but—”

  “Unnameables be good, I’m helping a bunch of witches, I am!”

  “Sir—” Augum began, trying to form an argument in his head. The last thing he wanted was to offend Mr. Bawdings and have him renege on helping Bridget. “Please, we might be warlocks, but we’re fighting for the same cause.”

  Mr. Bawdings took a swig, eyeing Augum like a watchman eyeing a thief. “Are we now, and what might that cause be?”

  “The downfall of the Legion, of course—”

  Mr. Bawdings let loose a boisterous laugh that bounced around the clay walls. “ ‘The downfall of the Legion’, the boy says. You mark my words, boy, nothing’s going to stop the Legion now, nothing. We’ll all be in shackles by spring. We’re just rabbits running loose, and you know what they are?” He leaned forward in his chair, his breath making Augum dizzy. “They’re wolves. A pack of hungry, vicious wolves. Why, did you even know that right now they’re demanding women produce sons for their future wars? Did you know that, boy? Of course you didn’t, because you seem to think there’s some kind of magical opposition to the Legion!”

  Mr. Bawdings took another swig, eyes flashing. “Let me set you real straight now, son. There. Is. No. Op. O. Sition! There is no underground army, there is no one fighting the Legion, there is no nothing! And if you ask me, all this is happening because of magicians and their cursed witchery.” He spat into the hearth and leaned back in the chair. “Should’ve all been hanged back in the day, I says.”

  This was news to Augum. He was sure there would be armies out there, secretly uniting to fight the Legion. The idea that no one was on their side was … lonely and depressing. He plopped down beside Bridget. She blinked twice. He just stared at her stupidly. She blinked twice again.

  “Bridget disagrees,” Leera said.

  Bawdings scoffed, taking yet another swig from his flask, which was also starting to sound empty. “The girl that can’t move or talk disagrees.” The chair creaked as he reeled in it, almost falling off. “A shrew’s bottom! I fear I’ve imbibed a bit much and now my tongue’s gone and run off. My apologies, Albert, but you know me …”

  Mr. Goss nodded but placed a hand on Augum’s shoulder, whispering, “There is opposition—I am looking right at it.”

  Augum spared a weak smile.

  Bawdings’ speech began to run together a bit. “But don’t you worry, kids, I’ll try and find your friend a healer. In point of fact, I already have an idea where to find one. The Legion set up a temporary outpost near Hangman’s Rock as a kind of in-between supply
station, complete with a healer. I know because I had to get around it without being seen. I’ll head over there tonight and see if I can bribe my way to seeing the healer, maybe slip her a note or something. Night’s best for such a thing as the ones most prone to take coin serve the graveyard shift.”

  Augum exchanged a dubious look with Bridget.

  “I’ll need money though,” Bawdings said, taking yet another swig from his flask. He scowled after finishing its contents. “How about some of that ale, Alb?”

  “I have more than that, my old friend.” Mr. Goss served Hedrick a tall glass of ale, a wooden bowl of bread, and a plate of cheese. “Now let me see what I have got left here …” He retrieved a box above the counter hidden amongst jars of grain and handed it to Mr. Bawdings. Bawdings opened it and his face lit up like a child receiving cake.

  “My entire savings,” Mr. Goss said.

  “Mr. Goss, you can’t,” Leera said. “What about money for food?”

  “We will manage, right, Leland?”

  Leland moaned with a nod.

  Mr. Bawdings began counting. “Hmm, I hate to say it, but this might not be enough.”

  Augum immediately reached into the rucksack, retrieved the rest of their money, and handed it over.

  Mr. Bawdings counted it all out, stuffed it into the same pouch Mr. Goss gave him earlier, and shrugged. “It’s enough to try, I suppose. If anything, I’ll throw in some of me own then, eh?”

  “You are a good man, Hedrick. I will never forget this.”

  Bawdings raised a wavering glass, ale slopping to the floor. “To being a good man. I’ll leave as soon as I finish me ale.”

  Mr. Goss flashed Augum and Leera a reassuring smile, but Augum, who had been watching Mr. Bawdings’ eyes droop lower and lower, was unconvinced of the plan. “Let’s follow him,” he whispered into Leera’s ear. She immediately nodded in agreement.

  They sat listening to Mr. Bawdings’ stories, which turned into drunken diatribes, mostly about magicians and their foul ways, or the Legion and its foul ways, or thieves and bandits of all sorts and their foul ways. The only magician sort Mr. Bawdings didn’t seem to mind were healers, and that was because one once mended a broken arm he received in a tavern fight. Although it was offensive to a warlock to get confused for a magician or wizard, and arcanery to be confused for magic, no one complained, trying to keep Mr. Bawdings on their good side. After all, he could very well pull through for them.

  “Perhaps you might like to stay the night and try to find the healer tomorrow, Hedrick,” Mr. Goss said after helping Bawdings stand from a most unceremonious chair slip.

  “Nonsense, Alb—” he paused to burp loudly and thump his heart. “I’ll be swell. I come from northern stock. These here veins can take— He suddenly stopped, frowned, and his eyes rolled up into his head. He slumped back in his chair, snoring.

  Mr. Goss only shook his head. “Oh, my old friend, how little has changed.”

  “Will he be all right?” Augum asked, taking the empty ale glass from Mr. Bawdings’ hand.

  “I imagine so. He will sleep it off, wake in a few hours, then go and find Bridget a healer.” Mr. Goss beckoned to help him lower the man to the ground. “He has not been the same since his wife died.”

  Augum placed the big man’s arm around his shoulder. “How did she die?”

  “Ridge fever, years ago.”

  Augum had seen ridge fever once. Back in Willowbrook, a girl his age had come down with it. Ridges formed on her skin, especially her face. She fought it off but the fever left her with awful scars, aging her twenty years. She was called names like “Ridge Ogre” or “Goat Horn”. The poor girl ended up taking her own life.

  Mr. Goss fetched a small cushion and placed it under Mr. Bawdings’ head. “He often joked how she was the envy of every man that laid eyes on her, what with her night black skin and fierce orange eyes. They were madly in love. Poor soul hit the bottle and quite lost his composure.”

  “That’s awfully tragic,” Haylee said. “Had you ever seen her yourself?”

  “Oh, once, and she was indeed beautiful, almost as beautiful as—” but Mr. Goss fell silent. He finished cleaning up, quietly bid them goodnight, and took his leave with Leland.

  Leera leaned close to Augum. “We’ll pack light and follow Bawdings soon as he goes. Oh, and we’re not taking her.” She thumbed in Haylee’s direction.

  Haylee sat down in the rocker by the fire. “Why not?”

  “Because—wait, how much have you heard? Stop spying—”

  “You’re going to follow him, and I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t tell. I’m not like that anymore—”

  “You’re going to stay behind and mind your own business, is what you’re going to do. When Mr. Goss asks where we’ve gone, you’re to say we went scavenging for supplies so he won’t worry. We’ll tell him everything when we return anyway.”

  “Leera, please, what’s it going to take to make you stop hating me?”

  “A miracle—” and she turned back to Augum with a you believe the nerve of her look.

  “Maybe she could help us—” he whispered, but regretted it immediately. Leera’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned like Mrs. Stone’s.

  “Never mind,” he said quickly. Leera kept staring at him as if he’d broken a cardinal rule of loyalty.

  Haylee gave Augum a mournful look before making her bed close to the hearth.

  “Snotty princess,” Leera muttered as they began making their own beds near the opposite wall. The hooded lanterns were blown out. For a time, there was only the sound of creaking floorboards and the fluffing of pillows.

  “I’ll take first watch,” he whispered, trying not to think about that kiss earlier.

  Leera kept tossing and turning, evidently unable to sleep. She looked to him as if about to say something before changing her mind and staring at the ceiling. What was on her mind? Was she thinking about the kiss?

  “So, uh,” Augum began quietly, noticing her tense up, “we’ll take the rucksack, two blankets, the map, flint and steel, and some biscuit beef—but drop everything else.”

  She instantly relaxed. “And the pearl—”

  “Right.” So she’s forgotten about it already.

  “We’ll borrow Mr. Goss’s mitts too. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  ”Okay.” He glanced at the form by the fire. He felt bad about Haylee, and wondered if there was some way he could help resolve the tension between her and Leera. “Hey, look, I’ve been thinking—”

  “—no need, it didn’t mean anything to me either.”

  He felt like a needle had just pierced his heart. “That’s not what I was going to say—”

  Leera gaped at him a moment. Even in the darkness, he thought he saw her face redden. “Oh.”

  “But thanks for letting me know,” he said quickly, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

  Leera swallowed as he snatched at his blanket and forcefully turned away from her, pretending to go to bed, which made no sense at all since he was the one on watch. Whatever, he thought. She can take a turn.

  Leera’s voice was very quiet. “So, um, what were you going to say then?”

  “I was just going to talk about Haylee—”

  “I should have known. Why are you always on her side? Why are you so obsessed with her?”

  He turned back around. “What? I’m not obsessed—”

  “Shh—”

  “You know what, forget it.” He pulled the blanket over himself again.

  “Fine then.”

  “Fine.” He went back to pretending to go to sleep, completely aware of every nuance in the room—the gentle murmur of the fire, the hammering of his heart, and, to his total dismay, Leera’s absolute silence.

  This lasted for what felt like a very long while.

  By the time Mr. Bawdings jolted awake, the fire had dulled to a glowing heap.

  “Mr. Bawdings, are you up now?” Leera immediately whispered, giving Aug
um the impression she had been as wide awake as him. He continued to pretend to be asleep, but kept one eye focused on Mr. Bawdings, who stared at her uncomprehendingly.

  “Mr. Bawdings? Are you ready to bring Bridget a healer now?” she said.

  Bawdings smacked his lips and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh …”

  Leera quietly got up and filled a glass. “Here, have some water.”

  Mr. Bawdings drank greedily, burping when he finished.

  “Please, sir, you’ll wake everyone up.”

  He scratched at his belly. “Where’s Albert—?”

  “He’s asleep, Mr. Bawdings. I’ll see you out.”

  “See me out? Where am I going?”

  “You’re going to find us a healer for my friend, remember?”

  Bawdings cackled like a mischievous little boy. “You should be quiet, there’s people sleeping.”

  “Ugh, that’s what—never mind.”

  Augum winced at the tone of her voice, but Mr. Bawdings didn’t seem to notice.

  “Right … the healer thingy … all right then, I best be off, no reason to stick around this sty.” He stood up, wavered, and stretched. When he yawned, his breath was so rank Augum could smell it all the way on the floor. He had to restrain from covering up, which would have given away that he wasn’t asleep. Suddenly, he felt Leera’s loose braids fall onto his cheek.

  “You can stop pretending to be asleep now and help.”

  “I wasn’t pretending—” He made a show of stretching.

  She rolled her eyes. “Is there anything you’ll be needing for your journey, Mr. Bawdings?”

  Bawdings scratched at his beard, eyeing the empty glass on the counter like a cougar sizing up prey. “Mayhaps a bit of Albert’s fine ale, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m afraid you drank the last of it, Mr. Bawdings.”

  Augum knew she was lying, but thought it smart to have him as sober as possible. He surreptitiously finished packing the rucksack while she dangled a waterskin before the man. “How about some more water instead?”