Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1) (27 page)

“Lord Moron! Fetch me my sword.”

Lord Boron took a nervous glance at the stairs and mopped his forehead. “Heh heh … but Your Highness, your sword is all the way in the royal wagon. Perhaps His Highness would care to spar with the, uh, armor another time?”

“NO! NOW, Lord Moron.”

Lord Boron resigned a bow. “As His Highness commands …”

“Wait—” Augum said, feeling sorry for the man. “You can use my sword, Your Highness. It’s just in my room here.”

Lord Boron froze, face lighting with hope.

The prince weighed the choice a little while. “Since I do not care to wait for your snail-like stride, Lord Moron …” His eyes fell disdainfully upon Augum. “You may fetch your sword, my subject.”

“I’ll get it, but I’m not your subject; you aren’t king yet.” Augum retrieved his blade from his room and presented it hilt first. Unnoticed by the prince, the blade stopped sparking the moment he took it.

Nose in the air, the prince took a few practice swings. “It will have to do, I suppose.” He turned to Fentwick. “All right, you ragged collection of scrap—let us spar.”

Fentwick bowed. “As ye wish, mine lord,” and limped to stand across from the prince. “What setting dost mine lord beseech of me—defender, beginner, intermediate, advanced, or expert?”

Sydo let out an involuntary snort. “Expert, of course.” He raised the sword in a battle stance.

“Your Highness … heh heh … is this wise?”

The prince silenced Lord Boron with a look.

“This should be good,” Leera muttered as the trio stood back to watch.

Fentwick backed away a few steps then became as agile and fluid as a cat, limp disappearing. He raised his wooden sword and deftly spun it in his hands.

Sydo hesitated before the two circled each other. Suddenly the prince lunged at Fentwick, who dodged and wacked him hard on the shins. Sydo howled like a wounded dog. “How dare you—!”

Leera snickered. “Had enough there,
Your Highness
?”

The prince gave her an unsure sidelong glance. “Of course not! I was merely testing his stance. On guard!” and he leapt at Fentwick again, but the animated armor was too nimble, evading the strike and giving Sydo another hard thwack. The blow landed on the side of his head and sent the prince sprawling to the ground, sword flying from his hands.

“Gods, how it hurts …” Sydo said, tears in his eyes, hair askew.

Fentwick lowered his wooden sword. “I beseech thee; mine lord is naer skilled enough to duel at this rank. Mighteth I suggest beginner difficulty.”

Leera began to crack up but Bridget gave her a quelling look and she composed herself, but not before the prince saw. He picked himself up, holding the side of his head, a malicious look on his face.

“First I shall have you locked away for impertinence, and then I will have this hunk of rust melted and made into a helmet …”

Leera ballooned, about to unleash a scathing response, when Bridget stepped between them. “Perhaps we should move on to the great dining room,” she said with a diplomatic smile.

“Heh heh … yes, let us sit and be merry, Your Highness.”

Augum picked up his sword and returned it to his room. When he came back, Sydo and Leera were avoiding each other’s gaze.

Bridget beckoned. “This way, Your Highness.”

Sydo scowled but followed, the side of his face as red as his hair, doublet slightly askew. The group entered the great dining room. Sydo gave it a bored look and plopped down into the throne-like chair. Lord Boron placed himself to his left. Bridget, Leera and Augum sat in their usual seats, putting a wide gulf between the two groups.

They waited in silence. The tension rose steadily until horses nickered outside. The trio rushed to the windows.

Sydo leaned closer to Lord Boron. “Have the peasants never seen a horse before?”

“We have, but Mrs. Stone is about to repair the stables,” Bridget said, nose against the glass.

The prince shot from his throne and ran over to a window, Lord Boron laboring behind. Ruined outlines of buildings traced lines in the snowy bailey. Eleven horses and seven armored men—the tallest of which Augum recognized as Sir Gallows—congregated by one particular ruin. Mrs. Stone shuffled beside four women, each wearing black winter cloaks and white servant hats. After a bit of discussion the men and women stepped back and Mrs. Stone raised her arms. Suddenly the horses neighed and rose up, fighting their handlers. A moment later, giant blocks of stone silently began to emerge from the snow, reforming into a structure.

Augum glanced at the prince, who stared at the scene with wide eyes.

“That is most … most …” The prince seemed to struggle finding the words to downplay Mrs. Stone’s formidable talent.

“Your Highness,” Lord Boron said, “Mrs. Anna Atticus Stone was the headmistress of the Academy of Arcane Arts for thirty-five years, even personally instructing your father for a brief period.”

“Is that true?”

“Quite true, heh heh; but I’m afraid your father—if you forgive me for saying so, Your Highness—had no head for sorcery. His Highness was gracious about it though, bless his old soul.” Lord Boron’s eyes misted over.

Sydo gave him a furious look.

“B-b-but I do believe Sir Gallows did attend the academy, Your Highness, reaching the 4th degree in fire before being called into service for your father.” Lord Boron’s head bobbed with a wide smile.

Sydo spoke through his teeth. “I am well aware of how many
degrees
he has, Lord Moron. He taught me the Shine spell, remember? Something
you
were unable to accomplish.”

“Of course, Your Highness, my apologies.”

They watched Mrs. Stone rebuild the stable. Upon its completion, the servants and knights clapped. Then the men led the horses inside while the servants walked back with Mrs. Stone.

“Where are
your
servants?” Prince Sydo asked as everyone took their seat.

“We don’t use any,” Bridget replied. “The four of us just recently arrived. We’re exploring the castle.”

The Prince scoffed. “No fire, no servants, no food—welcome to the legendary Castle Dirtclod!” and he broke apart laughing at his own joke, stopping suddenly. “Well, Lord Moron—? Do you not find the jest amusing?”

“Heh heh … yes, Your Highness, very amusing.” Lord Boron flashed a fawning smile.

“Really now, Lord Moron, you bore me to no end …”

Leera turned to Augum and gestured as if she wanted to be hung, before whispering in an undertone, “You think we’ll get to explore the top of the castle tonight?”

Augum leaned in a little. “That’d be great, though it’ll depend on how much work we have to do.”

The prince craned his neck.

Bridget also leaned in, pretending to scratch her cheek. “I’d really like to find that one crucial piece of the map.”

“I say—what are you lot whispering about over there? You are not to keep secrets from your prince!”

Leera flashed a cheery smile. “Nothing important,
Your Highness
.”

Sydo jumped up from his throne chair. “Insolent peasant girl! If you speak ill of me, I will have you flayed and—”

“You will do no such thing,” said a deep voice from the doorway. Sir Gallows strode into the room followed by four servant women with bowed heads. The prince scowled and slid back onto the throne. The servants lined up. Each wore a white hat over hair spiraled in a bun, as well as a white apron over a plain black dress.

After his eyes swept the prince, Gallows did a double take. “Your Highness—what happened to your face?”

Sydo turned his cheek. “Nothing at all. I am quite fine.”

Gallows grunted, directing his steely-eyed gaze to Augum, Bridget and Leera. “Allow me to introduce our servants. We once had many more, but alas …” He left what happened to them unsaid. Augum remembered crimson-armored warriors hacking away at defenseless villagers in Sparrow’s Perch. Is that what they had suffered through?

“The youngest here is Mandy,” the tall knight said, standing behind a plump girl with reddish-brown hair.

She curtsied, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“I believe her to be fourteen. Is that not so?”

Mandy’s hands writhed. She curtsied quickly. “Yes, m’lord.”

“The next oldest here is Rafinda.” A girl with blonde hair curtsied. She looked to be around sixteen, skinny and with a small nose. She too did not raise her eyes.

“This one here is Mya.” He stepped behind a tall girl that looked about nineteen years old. She had porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, a well-proportioned body, and shiny hair blacker than Leera’s. Mya raised almond-shaped emerald eyes and gave a radiant smile, before lowering them when the older woman scowled.

“She’s so pretty …” Leera whispered.

The butterflies in Augum’s stomach agreed. In fact, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“And the last is our illustrious head maid, Ms. Gertrude Grinds.”

A woman in her sixties frowned in disgust as she curtsied, before Augum realized it was some kind of smile. She had a prudish face with a hawk nose.

“The servants will not interfere in your business,” Gallows continued, pacing back and forth before the staff. “They are here to serve and work.” He turned to the women. “Because of the danger we find ourselves in, you will not be permitted to venture beyond the perimeter walls of the castle grounds.”

Augum felt bad for the servants. Was this their life? It seemed harsher than in the books.

Ms. Grinds gave a stiff curtsy. “Begging your pardon, m’lord, but where will we get provisions?”

“I have discussed the matter with Mrs. Stone and we have come upon an arrangement. She will retrieve food using arcane means and we will pay for it from the royal coffer.”

The prince made a hissing noise.

“Perhaps His Royal Highness would prefer to hunt his own food?” Gallows asked without taking his eyes off the servants. Sydo crossed his arms and muttered something under his breath.

“Now, will that be all, Ms. Grinds?” Gallows asked.

“Not quite, m’lord, there is the small matter of the accommodations.”

“The accommodations?”

“Indeed, m’lord.” She cleared her throat in a delicate fashion. “Well, you see, they are rather …” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Substandard, m’lord.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps I have been unclear in our predicament. We are only alive and have shelter by the grace of Mrs. Stone. If this displeases you, perhaps you would care to report to the closet Legion constabulary and ask for a new royal station. I am sure they would be more than willing to place your head on a spike.” He glared at her. “Now leave my presence.”

Ms. Grinds swallowed. “Yes, m’lord.”

The servants quickly curtsied and exited. From the hallway, Augum overheard Ms. Grinds doling out duties in angry bursts. He wondered if the women will be sleeping in the servants’ quarters, in that dreary-looking room with the hole in the wall.

Gallows paced to one of the giant marble hearths and began preparing a pipe. “Mrs. Stone is the most gifted sorceress I have ever seen,” he said to no one in particular, tapping the pipe and filling it with tobacco. “She repaired an entire stable before mine own eyes—work that would have kept ten men busy for days in weather like this. She has also healed all our minor injuries. Only Sir Dollard Canes suffers still.” He lit his pipe and shook his head. “I did not know it possible for a sorceress to learn more than one element …”

“Heh heh … she is indeed most gifted, Sir.”

Prince Sydo gave Lord Boron a disapproving look. “She is also the grandmother of the Lord of the Legion. Do not forget that, Lord Moron.”

“Your Highness—” Lord Boron whispered, giving the slightest nod at the doorway.

The prince looked over and seemed to pale a little as Mrs. Stone shuffled into the room.

“Mrs. Stone—please allow me to help you to a chair,” Gallows said.

She swatted him away. “I am no infant, Eldric.” She sat down in the queen’s chair with a groan. When she spotted Sydo in the throne, she turned to Gallows with a sigh. “Please inform your men they are welcome to dine with us this evening. They may occupy quarters on the second floor, though I daresay the rooms are in dire need of a thorough cleaning.”

“The men would welcome a warm meal, Mrs. Stone, and I shall have the servants attend to the rooms.”

Mrs. Stone nodded. “There are also rooms on the east side of the first floor for the servants to use. I fear those shall require more extensive repairs, however.”

“I can set the men to it right away—”

“—I was rather thinking my trio of apprentices could do it, seeing as they need the practice.” Her eyes swept over Augum, Bridget and Leera.

“Those clods are her apprentices?” Augum heard Sydo say in an undertone to Lord Boron, who immediately covered up with a cough.

“Oh yes, we can do it—” Augum said, the girls nodding along vigorously. He was hungry and would have almost preferred to stay and eat a second lunch with them, but the east side was the only part of the first floor they had not explored.

“Then it is settled.” Gallows took a seat to Augum’s left. “Now, let us discuss the finer details with regards to the defense of the castle and the tasks needing completion in the days ahead.”

“May we be excused, Mrs. Stone—?” Augum asked. The last thing he wanted to hear was boring talk about maintenance and work when there was adventure to be had.

“You may, but before you go, know that I expect the three of you to practice all four of the spells you have thus learned. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone.”

“They know
four
spells already?” Sydo whispered to Lord Boron.

“Apparently so, Your Highness.”

Sydo promptly stood up. “What about me? I demand to come along!”

“Surely repair work is below the prince’s station,” Mrs. Stone said.

“Heh heh, it most certainly is,” Lord Boron said. “We need to discuss the prince’s accommodations, as well as other particulars of note.”

“Yes, there is much to discuss, Your Highness,” Gallows added, biting his pipe.

Sydo gave the trio an envious look before plopping back down in defeat.

“Now, as far as castle provisions are concerned …” Gallows began, but Augum, Bridget and Leera were already out the door and rushing down the hall.