Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (12 page)

“They should have gone with Anna Stone, why did she not take them?” called a young woman in a forest-colored cloak.

“Yes, why did she not take them?” asked a voice from the left.

“Wipe their minds!” said another.

“Anna embarked on a quest to consult the Seers in the north,” Thomas said. “A quest too dangerous for the childlings. The Legion searches for her, for the childlings, and for the scion in Anna’s possession. Villages and towns have posters painted of their faces with a coin reward and a promise of eternal life. She could not take them with her.”

The old scarlet-robed man with almond eyes stepped forward. “It is not for us to judge or interfere. We have already broken the vow giving council on your behalf, young Thomas Stone. Amends must be made. I am aligned with Magua as to the penance.”

The crowd rumbled in agreement.

Thomas once again stepped forward, sweeping the circle with his black eyes until all fell silent. “Our words and our deeds have lost their way. The time of the vow is over. We must include ourselves in mortal affairs again. Choosing not to would be disastrous for many, Leyans and mortals alike. A millennium and a half ago we were part of the mortal world. We shared our knowledge and there were thousands of us. We prospered. Mortals prospered. And since the vow, we have declined. There are only sixty-seven of us left. And we, the keepers of history, know that mortal arcane and non-arcane knowledge has also declined. Mortals know only the bare minimum, and no more.” Thomas sighed deeply. “I say the vow will only bring about our destruction, for if the Lord of Death, fortified by the strength of scions and Dreadnought armor comes, we will be woefully unprepared, with no champions to fight on our behalf. We are but legend to the world, spoken of in tales around the fire.”

His words caused quite a stir, even amongst the elders, who looked to each other as if communicating wordlessly, all but Krakatos, who stood as still as a pond on a windless day.

Thomas pressed on, his voice rising, the most emotion Augum has seen from the man. “I ask you all, for who do we keep our knowledge? For ourselves? It is time we face the fact that this is most selfish of us. I refuse to believe history entrusted us with ancient secrets only to hoard them—and to what end? Until only one of us remains? To whom would we pass on the knowledge then? The ancient library stands dusty and quiet. It is time to admit the vow has failed in its aim, for the mortals barely know of our existence and yet they
still
covet our powers—something the vow was supposed to prevent.”

This time there were many conceding whispers and nods as Thomas stepped back into the circle.

“Thomas Stone again speaks from the heart,” answered the old woman with the ivory skin and queenly gown. Heads turned in her direction. “But what he asks we cannot do, for we have sworn a sacred vow—sacred and holy. The Unnameables watch us and judge, for we are their chosen few. No, Thomas Stone must give proper penance. Let us leave the mortals to their fate.”

The crowd stirred but stayed silent.

“Even if that fate brings our destruction—?” Thomas countered, late in stepping forward. “Where has the ancient Leyan wisdom gone? Has the vow left us senseless and unable to adapt? We forged the scions in our defense, knowing all too well the coveting ways of mortals. Moreover, what did we do? We gifted the scions to them to save ourselves. So why should we turn our backs when their sufferings are our doing?”

Voices rose at Thomas’ words, some in apparent agreement.

Magua stepped forward. “Words change nothing! That which has been done cannot be undone! Enough of this. Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone are hereby charged with transgressions against the sacred Vow of Isolation. The charges are as follows—Thomas Stone has accepted uninvited childlings under his care. Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone have helped train the childlings. Thomas Stone has endowed vow-breaking knowledge upon the childlings. I now move for the elders to convene and assign penance.”

Augum had enough and stepped forward. Some in the crowd immediately hissed.

“How dare the childling—”

“Most unorthodox—”

“Such impudence—”

“Let him speak—!” said the millennial woman in the ancient servant’s outfit.

Augum forced himself to concentrate on his words not his nerves. “We mortals need Leyan help!” he shouted, hearing his voice echo distantly. “I wish to hear from Krakatos the Ancient!”

All eyes turned to the pink-spectacled man with the white loincloth—except he neither moved or acknowledged anyone. Augum’s stomach plummeted. If there was anyone who could sway the Leyans …

Magua stepped forward, lips forming into a victorious smile. “I do believe the ancient father has chosen not to speak—” but she was cut off by gasps—Krakatos had taken a single measured step forward. Magua stood a moment longer before making a scowling retreat. Time passed as Krakatos’ gaze swept the circle. Augum felt a sense of peace as the Leyan’s spectacled eyes passed over him.

“Let us expatiate,” the ancient Leyan began in his rapid prose and sharp accent. “It falls to me, an antediluvian and recalcitrant Leyan, to pass more than mere conjecture on the dilemma I myself have been pondering for an inexcusably protracted panorama of time. My vacillation has been a long-suffering malignance, and so I am quite ready for the perfection of verdict and absolution. Probability reasons that you will see my resolution as nothing more than profane sentiment. I anticipate a swift riposte, though you will find me unduly prepared. Now for the crux of my well-seasoned gambit—contrary to our beliefs, we Leyans
can
and
should
fathom beyond the eternal moment in which we dwell.”

At this, the crowd stirred uncomfortably, but Krakatos went right on. Augum didn’t exactly know what the Leyan meant, but he knew it was significant.

“In fact, let it be known forthwith that I have spent a copious amount of time conceiving of the next move in the grandest of games, and conjointly, of what has transpired. Ergo, I assert the choice is nothing if not clear. On the one hand, we have dogma, a paragon of orthodoxy and preservation. Diametrically, we have the unperceived alien fluidity of change. Let it be known I simply urge the latter.”

Magua suddenly stepped forward. “That is blasphemy and treason of the highest kind! Cease speaking immediately!” She turned to the crowd and raised her arms. “I call on the emergency execution of the traitor and seditionist Krakatos! Step forward with me now and protect the sacred Vow of Isolation!”

A great many stepped forward, including, to Augum’s shock, Oba Sassone. Once the stragglers realized they were outnumbered, they too stepped forward, leaving behind only a few dissenters, including Thomas Stone.

Magua turned to Krakatos, pointing an accusing finger. “Ancient father—you have hereby been sentenced to die for sedition!”

Krakatos merely turned to face her. Whatever look he gave made her pause a moment. Then he vanished without a sound.

Magua’s lips thinned as gasps came from the circle.

“Impossible,” someone whispered nearby.

“What of Thomas Stone and the childlings?” asked a voice in the crowd.

Heads turned to Augum and the others.

“Let us discuss,” Magua replied, and Leyans stepped back, reforming the circle. Augum and his group stirred uneasily as the remaining elders conferred with nothing but looks.

Augum caught Oba Sassone watching him, metallic face impassive. He wondered what made the Leyan switch sides.

Finally, one by one, the elders gave a nod.

The woman wearing antlers and animal skins stepped forward. “The accusations have been deliberated upon. The decision is … conviction on all counts.”

Augum felt his whole body tighten.

The crowd was silent as the old woman with avocado skin replaced the antlered woman. “Oba Sassone, for aiding the training of the childling mortals, you are to meditate in silence without speaking to, being seen, or hearing from another for sixty nights.”

Oba bowed. “Oba accepts.”

“Thomas Stone,” said the old woman wearing the ancient servant’s outfit, “for passing sacred knowledge, training, and harboring uninvited mortals, you are to meditate in silence without speaking to, being seen, or hearing from another for three hundred nights.”

The girls, the prince, and Augum gasped. They were alone now, stuck among these ancient lunatics.

“So be it,” Thomas said in even tones, bowing.

Augum wanted to protest, or at least hear his great-grandfather say something,
anything
else against—

“Childlings—” Magua’s milky-eyes fell upon them. “For inhabiting the land of the Ley without invitation, and for learning some of its secrets without earning them, you will hereby be expelled, your mind wiped clean of your time here, upon first light of morning.”

“You can’t—!” Mya cried.

“It is done, so be it.”

“So be it,” echoed every Leyan voice around the circle, but Augum barely heard them past the rushing of blood in his ears.

Blind

Augum could not remember the trip back to the house. When the door closed, he slumped on the black marble steps. “What just happened …?”

“This is all Mrs. Stone’s fault,” the prince said, plopping down at the table. “If she had only taken us with her …”

Augum was too shocked to argue.

Leera leaned back against the wall by the door, hands rubbing her freckled face. “Ugh … we’re about to have our brains cooked by an old hag.”

Bridget began pacing again. “I think we just witnessed some kind of historic overthrow. Magua seems to be in charge now.”

“They are not nearly as wise as the legends make them out to be,” Mya said, sitting down at the table beside the prince.

Augum shot up and went to the door. “It doesn’t matter, we have to get out of here—” He tried the door. “It’s locked.” He leaned against it, expelling a long breath.

“No windows … we’re trapped,” Leera said.

Bridget stopped pacing. “Centarro—”

“Wait, m’lady,” Mya said. “We have to be careful—they have powers we do not understand, perhaps it is best—”

“Well we’ve
got
to try something—!” Augum interrupted, sounding harsher than he meant to.

Mya dropped her emerald eyes. “Ideas come few for a humble servant such as myself.”

“You’re not a servant—” Augum said, cheeks burning. “You’re a traditional healer.”

Sydo cleared his throat rather loudly. “Let us not forget that you are
my
servant. Need I remind you that you swore an oath to my father?”

Mya nodded. “I remember, Your Highness.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Bridget said. “Don’t you understand—” she made a sweeping gesture at everything. “
None
of this matters! It doesn’t matter because tomorrow morning we’ll be vegetables in the middle of nowhere, lost and confused, and sure to be captured by the Legion!”

Silence hung in the air.

Augum wondered why his great-grandfather hadn’t done anything after their penance was announced. Suddenly he saw movement. Something small and white scurried underneath the front door.

“Look,” he said, “a mouse.”

Sydo jumped back with a girlish shriek. “Kill it!”

Bridget whirled on him. “Don’t you dare—”

”That’s not a mouse,” Augum said, watching as the little creature skittered toward him. ”It’s made of parchment!” It scampered up to his foot, rose on hind legs, and made the tiniest squeak. He scooped up the little bundle of crinkles, wondering what to do with it, when he saw writing underneath a flap—and then he understood.

“Sorry, little one,” he whispered, unwrapping the message. The mouse gave a contented squeak. They gathered around and read.

Secure all possessions that make noise. Tonight you shall receive a single, quiet knock. Open the door without a word. Take each other’s hands in a line, for I shall cast invisibility on all. I shall then lead you away and up the steps. Do not speak. Do not let go. Walk as quiet as mice.

Burn this message once memorized.

TS

A big smile spread across Leera’s face as she suddenly embraced him. “You’re going to stay with us, right?”

“Guess I have no choice for now …” and he forced a smile.

Bridget placed her hands on his shoulders, looked him square in the eye. “I lost all of my brothers, but now I have you.
You
are my brother.”

He felt his heart warm. “I’ll … I’ll try to live up to that.”

They memorized the message and put it to the torch. They then secured their possessions as instructed, Augum wrapping Burden’s Edge in cloth to muffle the noise, Bridget doing the same with Blackbite. They kept as busy as they could to pass the time, everyone careful to talk about anything but tonight’s escape. For a while, he, Bridget and Leera even practiced the spells they knew—Shine, Telekinesis, Repair, Unconceal, Shield, and Centarro, a spell they were almost completely hopeless with.

Meanwhile, the prince napped or sat by himself, looking sullen and bored, occasionally complaining about his burnt doublet and how Mya needed to fix it as soon as they reached civilization. Mya, when not answering Sydo, sorted through her woven bag of herbs, mumbling recipes to herself.

At one point, Bridget whispered something to Leera and Leera turned to look at Augum with a sorrowful look. Later, when he and Leera were sorting the food and the last of the basket items on the table together, he noticed she was being a little aggressive as she threw things into Bridget’s rucksack.

He stopped what he was doing, wondering if he should ask if she was okay.

Leera looked up to make sure Bridget, Mya and Sydo were busy before turning to him. “Promise me you’ll not search out your father. Promise me you won’t leave us—”

His heart twisted into knots. What could he say? How could he promise knowing he might not be able to keep his word? “Leera, I—”

“Promise. Me,” she said through gritted teeth.

Staring into those glassy dark eyes, he knew one thing for sure—he didn’t want to hurt her any further, even if he had to lie. “I …” but he couldn’t say it, surrendering a nod instead.

Her lip trembled a moment and she looked like she was going to give him a hug. Instead she turned away, hiding her face behind a curtain of raven hair. “Ugh, I’m so pathetic.”