Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  Mr. Bawdings expelled a gust of air and waved dismissively. “Bah.” He hitched up his trousers, tugged at his boots, and ascended the steps, wheezing every few as if at high altitude. He fumbled with the hatch so much Leera had to come to the rescue, deftly pulling at the rope and allowing him escape. She closed the trap door behind him, even yanking on the carpet for effect, and listened for a moment before scurrying back down. By this time, Augum was ready—he had strapped on the rucksack and fetched the mitts. He glanced at Haylee’s form—she seemed to be sound asleep.

  “Wish us luck, Bridge,” Leera whispered, giving her a gentle hug.

  Augum stepped in after and squeezed her hand. Her eyes followed him in the dim light of the lantern. She blinked once. He forced a smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

  Leera waited for him at the top of the steps. He caught up and the pair slipped out into the night.

  Following Mr. Bawdings

  The bitter cold outside stung. Clouds obscured the stars, and it was as if the moon was too frightened to show its face. The only thing in their favor was the absence of wind, though that was a double-edged sword as the lack of sound amplified their crunching footsteps.

  “We have to wait,” Augum whispered.

  “What? Why?”

  “Eyes have to adjust to the dark first. Too dangerous to cast Shine.”

  “Are you trying to torture me or something?”

  “What? No, I just want to make sure we don’t get lost. Sir Westwood taught me this trick. Takes only the better part of an hour to adjust to a night like this.”

  He heard her fold her arms. “So you’re saying we have to sit around—”

  “Shh—I hear something.”

  “Shut up, I’m not in the mood.”

  “No, I really thought I heard something.” He stood there a moment, thinking the sound came from Mr. Goss’ home. It might have been an animal though. They stood in frosty silence for a bit, with only the sound of their quiet breathing.

  “Guess it was nothing,” he said finally.

  “Of course it was nothing, you were just being dramatic.”

  “Huh? Why would I be ‘dramatic’?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  She said nothing.

  He felt an angry flush and contemplated saying things he knew he’d regret later.

  She seemed to sense this. Her voice returned to a calm state. “Well, anyway, how do you want to adjust our eyes then?”

  He took his time responding. “Best do it in pitch darkness.” Then, without waiting for her to respond, he led them to the charred remains of a hut, where they plopped down to wait for their eyes to adjust.

  “This is stupid,” she said after a while. “I’m freezing and we’ll just end up losing the tracks.”

  “You can go anytime you want.” He said, colder than he meant to.

  There was a long silence in which he thought for sure she would get up and leave without him.

  “I hurt your feelings,” she said instead.

  That surprised him and he didn’t know how to reply.

  “I’m sorry,” she added in a quiet voice. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” he said at last, allowing a thoughtful pause to pass before asking the question that had been nagging him. “Did it really mean nothing to you?”

  She squirmed, taking too long to respond. “N—”

  “Let’s just forget the whole thing—” he blurted, cursing himself for not being patient enough to let her put together her thoughts.

  A pause, followed by a meek “Okay …”

  They sat in black silence, getting colder and colder until he began to see dim outlines. “I think we’re ready. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Finally.”

  “Use your peripheral vision, it’s better.”

  “My what now?”

  “Oh, um, just look at things slightly off, as if you’re looking to the right or left of them, then you’ll see them better. Sir Westwood taught me that.”

  She said nothing, but he could envision her rolling her eyes.

  Soon as they left the dark hut, he knew his plan had worked. The barest amount of light shone through the clouds, making visible dark gray snow, the outlines of trees, and most importantly, Bawdings’ fresh horse tracks.

  “Hey, I think this stuff you learned actually works. I can see better.”

  After all her complaining, it took all his will not to say I told you so!

  They kept up a steady march, stopping occasionally to listen to the night. Mr. Bawdings had ambled northeast and finally northward, following the boundary of the forest and the Tallows.

  “If we jumped over to the plains, we’d be following the same path I took on the way to Hangman’s Rock,” Augum whispered, fondly remembering that first journey when he met Bridget, Leland and, unfortunately, Robin and Commander Rames.

  “Wish I had gone with them that day.”

  As annoyed as he was with her, he wished she had too. “How did Bridget get stuck with Robin on that trip anyway?”

  “Yeah, that was funny. As part of learning Shine, we were supposed to go in groups to practice in the wild and find uses for it. Sometimes you get stuck with someone you dislike.”

  He wondered if she’d have rather have been “stuck” with Robin in place of Bridget. After all, she liked him. The thought bothered him so much he fell silent.

  As the trip wore on, they started feeling the effects of sleep deprivation. While taking a break to snack on biscuit beef, Leera actually dozed off, her head falling onto his shoulder, only to be jolted awake by a distant wolf howl.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Then she gasped as an answering wolf howl filled the night.

  “Don’t worry, they’re far off.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Never said you were. Biscuit?”

  She held up a hand. “I’m fine, let’s keep going before we freeze to death.”

  They returned to plowing through the snow. After a mind-numbing march, the night gave rise to the first blush of dawn. It became easier and easier to follow the tracks, though Augum wondered if this whole staying-up-all-night thing was a good idea. He felt extremely drowsy, had a hard time concentrating, and kept dreaming of a soft bed by a warm fire. Their exhaustion would affect any spell casting, so they would have to be very careful.

  Augum noticed the distance between tracks widen, indicating a suddenly faster pace. Soon another set of tracks joined, tracks that looked alarmingly thin.

  A tingle crept up his spine. He stopped upon seeing dark drops in the snow. “Look at this—”

  Leera tried to focus with dark-circled eyes. Suddenly she gasped. “That’s blood!”

  “Yeah, and there’s a second set of tracks here. I think … can’t be sure, but—”

  “—but what!”

  “I think they belong to a walker.”

  For a moment, the pair stared at each other.

  “I just got gooseflesh,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t want to alarm you, I guess.”

  “Well, I’m alarmed.”

  They stood listening to the forest, every sound magnified.

  “I didn’t tell you something either,” she blurted.

  “What—?”

  Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, at first I thought it was my imagination, you know, the lack of sleep and all, but … I think we’re being followed.”

  “And you were going to tell me when?”

  “Didn’t want to alarm you—”

  “Oh, for the love of—” He looked past her to the trees behind them but saw nothing. “You’re just tired.”

  Leera followed his gaze. “Maybe.”

  “I mean, we should keep going either way, right?”

  They stared at each other as if to tune out the fear
.

  She crinkled her nose. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye out behind, you ahead. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  The number of drops seemed to increase as they trooped along. He judged by the horse tracks that it was at least at a canter, if not a full gallop.

  They stopped after finding one of Mr. Bawdings’ flasks. The pair exchanged looks before continuing on, Leera shoving the flask into the rucksack.

  Soon they came upon more items—a loose mitt, a bloody boot, a scarf … but it was the leather satchel that gave them pause, one of its straps torn. Inside was the pouch with all the money they had given Mr. Bawdings, and then some. For whatever reason, the portly man hadn’t stopped to retrieve it, possibly because he hadn’t noticed it fall, or he couldn’t afford to. It was the latter Augum feared.

  They said nothing and continued on until finding two more sets of tracks.

  “Maybe we should turn around,” Leera mumbled, staring at the tracks. “I don’t think he’d follow through on his promise without the money anyway.”

  “Yeah, but what if we found him and gave it to him? Think he’d do it then?” He realized how unlikely the idea sounded.

  “Or even if we did it instead of him? We can’t let Bridget down.”

  “No, we can’t let Bridget down.”

  They continued the march, constantly watchful, breath steaming in the diffused light, the crush of snow magnified by the stillness.

  He stopped suddenly, heart in his throat.

  “Aug …?”

  He stood there, breathing rapidly, focused on the trees ahead.

  “Aug, what’s the—”

  She was cut off by a distant crash ahead. Something very large moved in the forest.

  Leera grabbed his elbow with a shaky hand. “I don’t know about this …”

  Another crash.

  The pair took a step back.

  “Um, I think we need to run—” but just as he finished, the thing crashed through the trees. They yelped and began sprinting away. Augum, slowed by the rucksack, desperately tried to keep pace. The crashing followed them, closer and closer, while he trailed further and further behind Leera.

  Suddenly a figure stepped out from behind a tree, blocking their path. Leera slid to a halt. The person was dressed in the black and red vertically striped robes of a necrophyte.

  The noise of the crashing became thunderous, and as Augum and Leera turned to face it, they finally glimpsed what was chasing them. It was then Augum recalled holding his great-grandfather’s hand as the dying Leyan spoke of the three kinds of undead commanded by the last Lord of Death:

  “The second kind … are wraiths … they are the dead recently raised … can be a bit like … they once were … but not human … sometimes they are grotesquely distorted … and can be as large as … a giant.”

  Arguments

  The wraith was a monstrously disfigured giant skeleton stinking of rot and decay. Black wet rags hung in strips from gnarled limbs too large for its body. It towered over two regular-sized skeletons—walkers—that had caught up from behind. They crept around in its shadow like demon children around their mother, clacking their jaws.

  The wraith opened its crooked maw and hissed, drooling black goop.

  The pair stood frozen as it slowly raised two mammoth arms, readying to lunge. Augum knew they had moments to live now, but he could think of nothing to do—his brain was stuck and it seemed any spell of theirs would be too feeble against such a behemoth. Strangely, part of him hoped that if he did nothing at all, then neither would the wraith, and they could just stare at each other like this forever.

  Suddenly the wraith and the walkers shot forward. At the same time, the necrophyte plowed through Augum and Leera, knocking them aside, shouting, “Necro dodai! Necro dodai! Adai, adai!” and the skeletons stopped short, watching the necrophyte, whose hood fell back revealing long golden locks.

  “Haylee …?” Augum said.

  Haylee didn’t acknowledge him or Leera, keeping her attention solely on the wraith hovering above her, drooling black ooze into the snow.

  She pointed away. “Necro onto! Necro onto!”

  The wraith cocked its misshapen head.

  Haylee pointed again, more firmly this time. “Necro onto!”

  The wraith made a kind of squeak, much like a string breaking on a lute. It turned, lumbered away a few steps, and stopped, glancing back at them almost longingly.

  Haylee’s arm remained fixed. “Necro. Onto!”

  The wraith expelled a hissing breath before continuing along, the walkers following. Haylee didn’t turn around until the menace had disappeared from sight.

  “What did you say?” Augum asked, standing and brushing himself off.

  “I told them to get lost.”

  “Well, thanks for, um … thanks for saving our lives.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Leera looked like she was going to castigate Haylee for something, but only mumbled, “Thanks,” and turned away, pretending to search the trees for any signs of movement.

  Haylee’s face fell slightly.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll come around,” he whispered.

  She nodded, though he saw doubt in her eyes.

  “So you were the one following us all this time—why?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I knew I might be able to help if you bumped into the undead. To be perfectly honest though, I … I didn’t think any of the commands would work on a wraith.”

  “Can you teach us some? Commanding the dead could be very useful.”

  “Doesn’t work that way. You have to be ordained by the Lord of the Dead in an ancient formal ceremony as a necrophyte, and that’s even to have a chance of having the dead listen to you. You also have to learn to speak the right words, the right tone, and use the right spells. It’s a very tough element.”

  “You mean ordained by my father—”

  “Yes, by Lord Sparkstone.”

  “I’m glad you decided to follow us.”

  Leera turned to face Haylee suddenly. “Why are you helping us—?”

  “What? What do you mean why?”

  “You know what I mean. What game are you playing—?”

  “ ‘Game’—? I’m not playing a ‘game’. If I wanted to turn you in, I would have done it back when I was with Robin and you were too weak to lift Bridget. I could have done it in Sparrow’s Perch too. I could have even done it now. Don’t you understand? I’m done with the Legion!”

  Leera just glared.

  “Oh, I think I get it—” Haylee continued. “This is about that stupid song, isn’t it? Well I’m sorry for that, I really am! What do you want to hear, that I didn’t have the courage to make it right? That I crossed a line and it was impossible to go back? We were enemies, all right? But I don’t want that anymore, just like I don’t want the Legion and necromancy. Do you get it now? I’m sorry, all right! I’m sorry …”

  “Oh, you’re ‘sorry’, are you? You think ‘sorry’ covers all the humiliation, the shame?”

  Haylee bit her lip before replying. “That’s partly why I followed you. I … I want to make it up to you.”

  “Leera, she saved our lives,” Augum said. “She helped us with Bridget—”

  Leera immediately turned on him. “You stay out of this—you have no idea what it’s been like putting up with all the mean and nasty things she did and said. She could have stopped at any time. She could have shown compassion or friendship then … but no, she plowed on like the little deceitful vermin she is—”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, if you insist on being angry with her then that’s fine, but at least she’s trying to make it up to you.”

  Leera bristled. “You’re taking her side again! Why are you constantly defending her—!” She thrust an accusing finger into Haylee’s face. “I know what you’re up to, and I hate you! Stop trying to steal my friends!” She turned her back on them and marched off.

 
; They watched her go.

  “I deserved that,” Haylee mumbled. “She’s right, there was a lot more that I did to her, and I could have stopped.”

  He sighed. “I should get her …”

  “Yeah …”

  He chased after Leera, who resolutely marched northward. “Leera, wait, please, let’s talk—” but she only flashed him a despising look.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’m going to get that healer from the Legion myself, without your help. Why don’t you go and run off with her.”

  “That’s crazy, will you not just stop and talk?”

  She halted, but kept her back turned and arms crossed.

  “Look, you’re not thinking this through right now,” he began in the most rational, kind voice he could, trying to figure out why she was so mad at him. “Fine, stay angry with Haylee, stay angry with me even—but whatever you do, please, let’s stick together and work on this. If you go alone, something terrible might happen and I’d … I’d never forgive myself …”

  “And so you shouldn’t—”

  “I can’t do this without you, Lee. Bridget and I need you. Please. Stay angry at me, that’s fine, but just come and work on this. I really think Haylee can get a healer. She’s dressed like a necrophyte, think about it—”

  She waited a moment, breath fogging in short bursts, before turning around, brows furrowed. She stared at him for a bit before glancing at Haylee over his shoulder. “All right, maybe we could use her … that’s about all she’s good for anyway.”

  He sighed in relief. “Great, let’s think of a plan. Come on.”

  Leera frowned before finally nodding, lagging behind until they returned to Haylee.

  “All right,” he said, gesturing diplomatically. “Now let’s forget our differences and work together to find a healer for Bridget.”

  “Maybe I could bluff my way in,” Haylee said after a tense silence. “I could say that I need the services of a healer. If I strike the right tone, I might be able to convince them to only send one soldier as an escort.”

  “We could deal with one soldier,” he said, nodding encouragingly at Leera. “Right?”

  She just stood there, arms crossed, gaze fixed elsewhere.

  “I’d have to have a good reason for being out here on my own,” Haylee continued, “and a good reason to borrow the healer too.”