Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  “All in good fun, old man, all in good fun.” Magnavilius glanced around the camp. “Glad I’m not too late for the fight.” He turned to a soldier that trailed him. “Lieutenant—merge the men with the patrol squads. I want all hands armed and ready.”

  “As you wish, Commander,” his lieutenant replied, turning his horse to call out commands.

  Magnavilius stepped by Augum as if he didn’t exist at all, almost crushing his fingers in the process. “Well, I hope you’ve all been practicing,” he bellowed, laughing at his own joke. Others laughed when Sparkstone joined in. Magnavilius clapped Corrigus on the shoulder. “Nothing like a good arcane battle, eh, old chum?”

  Corrigus only frowned.

  “And who is this now—?” Magnavilius asked, turning beady eyes on Augum, who sat in the muddy snow between the warlocks. “A necrophyte under punishment? Why the old rags then?”

  Sparkstone raised his chin. “This is my son.”

  “Your son? This is Augum Stone?” Magnavilius’ red brows trolled up his forehead and he let loose a great steaming laugh. “Do you know that I had you on my lap when you were a wee tot? Sire! What great news to have you reunited with your boy—”

  Sparkstone nodded, though there was no emotion in his voice. “Yes, it’s quite the occasion.”

  “My word, I have a lot to catch up on, don’t I, Lividius?”

  “We shall toast after our victory. Right now, I could use some honest counsel.”

  Magnavilius gave a grunt as his eyes searched the horizon. “It’s late. Is she waiting us out?”

  “That’s not her style. She can’t stop teaching. She’ll probably wander in here lecturing us all on our vagrant ways.”

  The soldiers chortled until a bright flash of light cut short their clucking, followed immediately by a thwacking explosion just to the south of them. The light flared around the camp, making visible an enormous arcane protective dome. It vibrated like a bell before disappearing into invisibility once again.

  There were cries of alarm from all corners of the compound as soldiers ducked, before realizing it was safe to stand.

  Magnavilius snorted a laugh. “You can stand now, Commander Canes.” He flexed his arm and seventeen fiery rings erupted around it.

  Canes didn’t bother brushing the muddy snow off his haunches. “What was that—?”

  “She tripped my outer defense,” Corrigus said, his own arm coiling with nineteen rings of ivy.

  “At last the wait is over,” Sparkstone said quietly, arm raging to life with twenty electric bands shining brightest of all. The three scions began rotating around his plumed helm like a protective halo.

  “Is she invisible?” Canes asked, head swiveling about.

  Corrigus’ brows furrowed together. “She may have doppelganged.”

  “Why would she bother?” Magnavilius asked.

  “She could be ghosting,” Sparkstone muttered.

  Augum saw an opportunity to cause dissention. “Nana learned some really powerful new spells in Ley, you know,” he lied, “and she knows plenty off-the-books spells too. She’s also going to—”

  “—I’m not as adept at detecting lies as Commander Tridian,” Sparkstone replied, lightning eyes sweeping the outskirts of the camp, “but I know when my own son is lying.”

  “You don’t know me, and she’s not afraid of any of you at all, not even of the whole camp together—”

  Magnavilius smacked the back of Augum’s head with his hand. “You try your father’s patience at the most inopportune time, boy!”

  Augum scowled at the big red-haired man, wishing he could cast Centarro just to use his tongue as a weapon against them. Oh, how he will miss that beautiful spell.

  The night sky rumbled and necks immediately craned skyward.

  “That thunder sounds peculiar,” Canes said.

  Sparkstone watched unfazed. “It is her.”

  The clouds seemed to darken and lower, moving ever swifter in a gargantuan silent whirlpool around the camp. Suddenly, the entire spiral lit up with internal lightning, the accompanying crack rumbling Augum’s bones like a drum. Horses neighed and whickered. The soldiers stirred uneasily, some edging nearer to tents.

  “Steady now—!” Magnavilius shouted to his men.

  Canes paled. “What good are common soldiers against a master warlock?” he muttered, though no one but Augum seemed to hear him.

  And then it happened—the sky ruptured with wide bolts of lightning that struck the dome repeatedly in the same spot. Strike after raging strike lit up the shell, sending great ripples across its surface. The sound alone was like standing under a village-sized gong struck by a giant hammer. Soldiers ducked under tables and behind tents. Horses reared up, throwing their riders off.

  “It’s weakening—!” Canes shouted, dropping to his knees and holding up his hands in a defensive pose, like many of the soldiers.

  Sparkstone, Magnavilius and Corrigus remained standing, watching the pummeling with a fixed curiosity. Robin took shelter under the wraith, which stared upwards at the storm as if entranced, its vacant eyes almost mournful. The Red Guard merely stood quiet near their master.

  The lightning slowed and finally fizzled, leaving the dome riddled with giant gaping wounds.

  “It seems it has withstood the onslaught,” Corrigus said, gray brows rising up his forehead.

  For a moment, there was only silence, punctuated by the sound of a horse whinny.

  “There!” Shouted a soldier. “The horizon—!”

  Heads turned to the distant east where a tornado made from pure lightning swirled to life, so bright it lit up the Tallows for leagues. It stood in place, growing larger in size, before rushing forth in a crackling rage that tore up everything in its path. Thunder pulsed from it in a steady low roar that shook the ground. Soldiers began backing away, fear written across their faces.

  “The dome will absorb it!” Corrigus shouted, holding up his hands. He shouted something else but his voice drowned in the rumbling.

  The lightning tornado was upon them, howling and screeching and grinding at the dome. The shell cracked. Giant glass-like chunks began falling. A tent collapsed underneath one nearby. The chunk promptly disappeared, leaving carnage in its wake.

  Almost everyone sought shelter, except for the warlocks. Magnavilius cast a red sphere around himself, Corrigus a shimmering armor, while Sparkstone merely stood there, flanked by the Red Guard.

  Augum scrambled under a nearby trough that had fallen over, while the tornado settled directly above, allowing a vertigo-inducing glimpse up its cavity—a vast, murderous, rotating tower shining brighter than the sunniest day. Even he hoped the dome would hold, otherwise he’d be sucked up into that maelstrom along with everything else.

  He stole a glance at his father. Sweat prickled the Lord of the Legion’s face. The plume on his helmet whipped about in the wind. His golden form stood rock still.

  “It’s failing!” Corrigus mouthed, voice lost to the grinding din, hands waving for everyone to take cover.

  The dome suddenly ruptured with a mighty cacophony and dissolved. The winds rapidly increased—tents flapped like laundry in a gale; barrels rolled and splintered; cookware, cots, dressers and chests lifted into the spiral, later destroyed by lightning tentacles snapping from within the vortex.

  Soldiers hung on to what they could, a few already flying upward. The ones that remained stared up in horror as their colleagues vaporized.

  Augum curled into a ball, hoping death would be quick. The true might of his great-grandmother was on full display, and it made his very bones tremble.

  Suddenly the noise and light disappeared, leaving a ringing silence, except for the smash of objects falling back to earth, some of which were bodies.

  “The dome is no more,” Corrigus said, panting. He flexed his arm and it flared back to life with ivy rings. Magnavilius also rekindled his. Only Sparkstone’s arm had not extinguished during the onslaught.

  “Your arroganc
e knows no bounds,” Anna Atticus Stone said in a booming voice that seemed to come from everywhere. Heads swiveled, seeking the source, but only the warlocks knew that was a fruitless endeavor, and stared into the black horizon of the Tallows.

  Augum’s breathing quickened. Somewhere out there in that dense night stood his great-grandmother … and she wasn’t here to play games.

  “My arrogance?” Sparkstone’s voice was equally loud, rumbling across the plains. The non-arcane near him startled from the sudden outburst. “You stole the scion from me. You stole my own son. You lead the resistance against me. And you dare call me arrogant? I want that scion. No more lessons, grandmother. Now we battle.”

  Lightning flared up distantly, too far for the boom to reach the camp.

  Mrs. Stone’s voice wheezed a sigh, a low hum seeming to fly across eons of time. “Let it be so.” The distant lightning raged closer and closer, the many strikes coalescing, finally forming a massive lightning creature with arms and legs like giant tree trunks. It flexed, roared electrically, and charged.

  “Lightning elemental!” Corrigus yelled.

  “Warlocks, cast your beasts!” Sparkstone called.

  Augum watched as Corrigus, Magnavilius and his father cast their own elementals a ways forward of the camp. Their words were long and complex, as were their gestures, but when they finished, it appeared the Tallows had become a massive arena.

  Corrigus’ elemental was made of earth and rock, ripping up the ground with every step and sending rubble flying. Magnavilius’ was made from pure fire, immolating the snow-covered grass. His father’s was made of lightning, smaller than Mrs. Stone’s, but not by much.

  As everyone began cheering for the Legion elementals, Augum noticed his friends for the first time—they stood tied together outside of their tent, Justinius and the guards apparently wanting to keep abreast of what was happening. Only Ms. Jenkins was absent.

  The elementals came at each other with tectonic ferocity, each punch and kick rumbling across the plains. Augum stole a glance at the warlocks, who concentrated as if fighting with their mind. It was not long before Mrs. Stone’s snuffed Magnavilius’ with a great uppercut, sending a stream of curses out of the man’s mouth.

  Corrigus used the opportunity to flank Mrs. Stone’s elemental. He raised his arms to strike, his elemental mimicking his action. Augum saw his chance and dove at the man’s waist, knocking him to the ground. Magnavilius immediately yanked him away, but the damage was done—Corrigus’ earth elemental hesitated long enough to take a leap kick in the stomach. It collapsed in a heap of rubble.

  Corrigus’ face twisted with rage. His hand shot out, blasting the ground at Augum’s scurrying feet with some kind of hissing venom.

  It was merely a warning …

  Luckily, his father did not notice what Augum had done.

  A monstrous smack brought everyone’s attention back to the battle. The mood amongst the camp grew tense as Augum pumped his fist, quietly rooting for his great-grandmother. But it wasn’t to be—Mrs. Stone’s elemental had taken too many hits, finally exploding in a shower of sparks that set the nearby grass on fire.

  The camp erupted in cheers. Sparkstone threw up a fist in acknowledgement, turned to his audience and, with a big twirling flourish of his arm, exploded his elemental in celebration. Soldiers cheered even more, raising their weapons in salute of their leader.

  Meanwhile, lightning continued in the plains, still too distant to hear. It wasn’t long until everyone was looking ahead, waiting for the next assault.

  And then they saw her—she stepped up onto the mound of earth left behind by Corrigus’ earth elemental. Framed from behind by the lightning and below by the remnants of the grass fire, Anna Atticus Stone appeared a pathetic figure, a trifle compared to the size of the elementals that fought moments before.

  Augum squinted—it appeared she held a new staff and wore a pristine white robe. He would have given anything to have Mr. Goss’ spyglass just then.

  Magnavilius raised his arm. “Lord Sparkstone—the men are anxious to attack!”

  The soldiers threw up a roar.

  “My liege—I urge caution,” Corrigus said. “Allow me council to—” but the Lord of the Legion held up a hand, staying the old man.

  “Commander Magnavilius, Commander Canes—take half of your men and SHOW THE CRONE THE MIGHT OF MY LEGION!” Sparkstone roared the last words arcanely, the sound rolling across the Tallows, shaking the tents.

  Every man in the camp threw up a resounding cry, weapons clanging against shields or armor.

  Magnavilius and Canes shouted commands. The men mounted their horses and formed into ranks—Canes and his men on one side, Magnavilius and his men on the other.

  The two commanders looked back at their master and saluted with outstretched arms. “Hail to the Lord of the Legion! Glory to us all!”

  “Hail!”

  Sparkstone nodded proudly. The two commanders took this as a sign to attack. The ground rumbled from hooves as soldier after soldier urged his horse into a canter. The soldiers that remained cheered on their comrades. Halfway there, the swarm sprang into a gallop, and finally a sprint.

  “And so I watch my brave Legionnaires ride to their extinction,” Sparkstone said in a solemn voice, hands behind his back. He shared a look with Augum, and it was then Augum realized no one else had heard but him. His father’s face, although partially hidden behind his golden helm, was proud and defiant.

  He turned to his men. “Watch as your fellow men fight for the good glory of the Legion! Watch as they give their lives this day, so that one day, you may live eternal!” He screamed now, gesturing grandly. “Heroes! Every last one of them, heroes! I so name this battle, the Battle at Hangman’s Rock!”

  The men threw up cheer after cheer, a crowd of frothing wolves eager for meat.

  Augum suddenly understood what his father was doing—he was creating martyrs. He remembered something Sir Westwood had once said— “Behold the martyr, for he lives forever.” Even if his father should lose this day, he’d use it to his advantage in the future. Even calling it the Battle at Hangman’s Rock served a purpose.

  For the first time, he thought he understood one of the driving forces behind the Legion. It wasn’t just for eternal life—it was also for glory.

  Two spyglasses were rushed to Corrigus and Sparkstone. Corrigus began to relay aloud what they were seeing in a flat voice.

  “She is making no moves yet. Front ranks nearing.”

  There were numerous quick flashes.

  “First rank triggered a lightning trap—four gone. Now seven frozen in place—some kind of chain paralysis. Make that a dozen. Unknown number fallen off their horses, screaming—I suspect Fear. A few more are wandering off. That would be Confusion—”

  The soldiers quieted down, paying close attention to each dispatch while staring at the distant light show. Rumblings and explosions echoed.

  “Magnavilius casts darkness—”

  Augum saw the mound disappear into the night.

  “She evaded. Magnavilius casts fireball—Teleport Evasion. Counter attack. Mass disarm—”

  Numerous weapons tumbled through the air, backlit by fire.

  “Hold on … looks like … some of ours are attacking each other. Could be mastery level Possession.”

  Sparkstone and Corrigus exchanged brief glances before resuming their watch.

  “Sleep against … looks like ten or so,” Corrigus continued. “Magnavilius casts Rain of Fire—her Mystic Armor withstood. Paralyze Group against our own—another seven down, though could be more.”

  Suddenly there was a rumbling explosion followed by multiple quick bursts of light.

  “Simulcast!”

  There were audible gasps from the watching soldiers. “That’s impossible,” someone said.

  “It was Forked Lightning and Mass Frenzy—” Corrigus said.

  “That one’s off-the-books,” Sparkstone muttered.

  The soldi
ers behind them fell completely silent. No one could tear their eyes away.

  “She has sped up her movements greatly now,” Corrigus went on. “Must be Slow Time.”

  A tremendous flash of light.

  “She just Teleported ten from the field—” There was a hint of surprise in Corrigus’ voice.

  Augum, despite his frayed nerves, couldn’t help wondering where those soldiers went.

  “Triple Doppelganger—the troops don’t know which one to attack. Lightning strike. And again. And yet again. Three down. Speared lightning—” Corrigus shook his head. “Unknown casualties.”

  Sparkstone adjusted his stance as Corrigus continued.

  “Magnavilius’ arcane armor has failed. He appears injured. Canes is rallying the troops around the mound. They are having a hard time getting close enough to use their weapons. Magnavilius casts Firebolt—blocked with Shield. Meteor—Teleport Evasion. Blaze—out of range. Lava river—Teleport Evasion again.” His head shook continually now. “Her endurance … Magnavilius is losing arcane stamina. Curtain of Fire—immune, probably from Sphere of Protection …”

  The Tallows were a flurry of fire and lightning now.

  “Multiple flashes—many blinded. Thunderclap—several stunned. Chain Lightning! Twenty more gone—”

  Low gasps from the crowd of soldiers.

  “Magnavilius casts Fire Army. She countered with Wall of Lightning. Wait, he has successfully used Push, she’s knocked down—!”

  Augum’s heart leapt to his throat as a cheer went up from the soldiers, but Corrigus raised a hand, silencing them.

  “Troops trying to get near—they have fallen through the ground! Unbelievable … must be an extension of Combat Portal at the master level. She’s moving! Now casting Ball Lightning—seven plowed down. Explosive Lightning—four down. Canes has been levitated with Telekinesis … struck by Flame Lightning … he is on fire and now thrown against his own troops—two more down.”

  Augum stole a quick glance at his father—his jaw was tightly clenched.

  “She seems to be leaving Magnavilius for last. Remaining soldiers fleeing into the darkness. She’s letting them go. Magnavilius standing before her now. He’s bleeding. They seem to be just staring at each other …”