Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (13 page)

He wanted to tell her she wasn’t, that she was an amazing and caring friend and he really appreciated her, but instead he kept sorting.

Time flew by and they started getting tired. Everything was packed and ready to go. Now they just had to make it out of there without anyone noticing.

Eventually, Leera faked a yawn and stretched. “Getting late, isn’t it?”

“It is, m’lady,” Mya replied with an over-dramatized sigh. “Let us sleep.”

“Goodnight,” Bridget said with a wink, sitting by the door. She had volunteered to take the first watch. They lay on the cold floor, waiting for that all-important knock.

***

It was very late when Augum awoke suddenly to a gentle shaking. Almond-shaped emerald eyes swam into view, a finger held over soft lips. He sat up as Mya moved on to gently shake the prince. Augum immediately spotted Thomas, standing by Bridget, his muscled bronze chest glistening in the flicker of a single Leyan torch near the door.

Thomas glanced at the closed door before gesturing for them to form a line. They did so without a word, Leera at the front followed by Bridget, Sydo, Augum and Mya. Augum worried about his sweaty palm as Mya gripped his hand. A familiar fluttering began in his stomach, though it could just as easily have been nerves.

When they were ready, Thomas made sure he had their attention and pressed the Helix on the wall torch, snuffing it out. A moment later, his arm erupted in rings of fire as he whispered a complex string of unknown arcane words, touching each of them on the head as he went along. Those he touched instantly disappeared with a quick sucking sound.

When Augum’s turn came, he felt a strange tingling, like when he slept in a funny position and his arm or leg went numb. He glanced down at his body but it was gone! The sensation was so peculiar it actually made him dizzy. He had to focus his gaze on his great-grandfather to keep from stumbling. At last, Thomas put a finger to his lips before turning himself invisible. The light from his arm immediately extinguished, plunging them into pitch darkness.

The front door squeaked. Sydo’s hand gave a light tug and the line began moving forward. Augum took small, measured steps so as not to step on the prince’s heel. It was a challenge to walk in total darkness, the kind where there was no difference between opening one’s eyes and closing them. He wished they had practiced walking like this beforehand.

They wound this way and that. Augum heard nothing other than the quiet padding of their feet, their rapid breathing, and the thunder of his own heart. Sometimes he sensed they were near an object, perhaps the wall of a house. At other times, he sensed great spaces. The group eventually slowed down and Augum felt a squeeze from the prince’s hand, which he instinctively passed on to Mya, figuring it had to be a warning of some kind.

The sound of people’s feet in front changed. He was trying to figure out why when his foot suddenly stepped into nothing. He stumbled, letting go of Sydo’s hand but managing to hold on to Mya’s.

The stairs—of course. He tried to get his bearing, but the group’s shuffling quickly faded and he was unsure as to which direction they had gone. He stood there, disbelieving they had not waited for them. Why hadn’t Sydo informed the others?

Mya squeezed his hand, probably wondering what was happening. He could only squeeze back. It was so quiet even whispering was too dangerous. He slowly descended the rest of the steps. When he reached the bottom he figured the only thing to do was try to walk as straight as possible. With nothing to see, however, that proved difficult, and he walked painfully slow, his free hand groping in the dark.

The pair walked for what felt like far too long a time when Augum suddenly slammed right into a stone pillar. He grunted involuntarily and immediately froze. Somewhere behind them, a red fiery light lit up. It was someone’s palm, waving about, coming closer.

Maybe Great-grandfather had finally realized they were missing and was coming for them … but no, the Leyan certainly wouldn’t give himself away like that.

Mya gave an urgent tug at his arm as the mysterious figure approached, hand sweeping in wide arcs. Augum nudged Mya to stand behind the pillar, which was just wide enough to conceal them both—as long as one stood behind the other.

The figure was now no more than thirty paces away, advancing quietly. Augum held his breath, not daring to make the slightest movement or noise. He held Mya’s hand tightly, a grip she returned, their hands trembling together. As the figure drew even nearer, with the way his arm swept about, Augum had the sudden realization that they were going to be seen.

His mind raced. There was only one chance, and he had to take it. He calmed his breathing and concentrated unlike ever before, knowing he had to get it right the first time.

“Centeratoraye xao xen,” he whispered as quietly as possible.

He knew immediately that he had invoked the spell correctly because he felt every nuance of the moment—the location of each of his limbs in space, exactly where Mya was, and the position of the pillar in relation to them and the stranger. He even felt the pulse of Mya’s heart through her palm, a rhythm that matched the frantic beating of his own.

With perfect clarity, he focused on the burning palm and the swing of its light. Time seemed to stretch and sharpen, but not enough to plan for the side effects of Centarro, a risk he was painfully aware of. His free hand gripped the stone pillar, feeling its rough, cool texture. So attuned was Augum to every sound that each of the man’s steps sounded like a thunderous crash, each breath a windstorm. He had to act very soon. Suddenly, the solution presented itself in the shadow of the pillar, as it moved opposite to the light. There was a slow cadence to it.

He snagged Mya’s other hand, squeezing with reassurance. He then started rocking back and forth, guiding her along to the gentle swaying of the shadow, in an almost musical way, so that whenever the person’s lit palm swung to the far right, he and Mya danced left, and vice versa, always in the shadow of the pillar, always just in time. Somehow, she understood and followed his lead in this deadly dance. Only a few times did a piece of their clothing snag the light, but he knew they had to keep going, he had to keep concentrating …

And then, as if a fog had descended on his thoughts, things started to get fuzzy. Knowing what was coming, he drew Mya close, freezing in the shadow of the pillar opposite the burning palm. Miraculously, the stranger walked right by, the pair having danced in the pillar’s shadow undiscovered.

As the sound of the stranger’s steps faded, Augum drifted away. He knew he had to find some people … he let go of Mya and was about to start walking in search of them when she grabbed him and drew him close. The hypnotic distant light, her soft embrace, and the delicate aroma of her scented oil all served to calm him. He rested like this in her arms, lost in the simplest thoughts, the pair waiting …

It felt like a long time before he was able to put things back together in his mind again. Mya still held him in a soothing yet firm embrace, like a favorite blanket on a cold night. His heart raced, sure he’d remember that embrace for the rest of his life. Yet he realized there were pressing concerns. They were lost and the spell had left him arcanely fatigued. Reluctantly, he tapped her side and she loosened her grip, keeping hold of his hand.

He peered around the pillar. The stranger was combing towering rock walls. Suddenly, although very briefly, the Leyan’s light passed over the entranceway. Augum placed one leg forward in its direction and held it there as a marker, waiting for the person with the light to have gone a distance further before continuing forward. They watched the light sway back and forth in wide arcs, a lonely lantern in absolute darkness. At last, he judged the person to be far enough away for them to go on.

The walk was agonizingly slow, the silence magnifying every sound. When at last his hand felt the cool wall of rock, he felt a wave of relief and gave Mya’s hand an encouraging squeeze. They walked along the wall until finally finding the stone archway. The pair quietly passed through and began the long ascent up the narrow steps, stopping now and then to listen. He hoped the others had gone up ahead, and tried not to think of them getting caught down below while waiting for him and Mya.

After a long time ascending the worn stone steps, a “Psst—” came from somewhere up ahead. He made the same noise in return, squeezing Mya’s hand in delight. At last he managed to find an outstretched hand, which he could only assume was Sydo’s. The line promptly continued moving as if nothing at all had happened, still without a word spoken or a light shone.

As they finally neared the exit, a muted low roar increased. At first, Augum thought it was some kind of monster screaming, until the exit door disappeared, revealing a sandstorm and flooding the corridor with light. Thomas stepped outside, everyone following.

Augum flashed Mya a relieved smile and gave one last squeeze of her hand before letting go to draw his hood. He wished he could hold her hand forever.

The challenge to avoid getting lost in the storm was immense—visibility was only a few feet, yet they had to keep an eye out for the person in front while protecting their faces against whipping sand.

They walked until a figure appeared. As they drew close, Augum identified a wine-colored shirt flapping in the wind. A pair of curved blades clanked at the Leyan’s hips.

“Oba Sassone,” Thomas said, stopping paces away. “The song of the wastes calls. We have little time.”

“Prepared is Thomas Stone?”

“I am.”

“You—you betrayed us!” Leera yelled. “You betrayed Mrs. Stone!”

The metallic-skinned Leyan’s black eyes narrowed. “Pretend Oba must, so back he can go.”

“There’s no time,” Thomas said. “I will explain later. Oba, if you please—”

“Prepared Thomas be for consequences?”

“I am.”

Oba Sassone reached out a hand and Thomas took it. The two Leyan friends shared a moment before Oba gave a slight nod and let go.

Thomas turned to the group. “Hold on and do not let go! We are about to teleport.” He grabbed Augum’s hand then Leera’s, who was still eyeing Oba with distrust.

They formed a circle as Oba dug out the same small metallic cube that had been used to teleport Mrs. Stone. Augum now recognized the engraving on its sides—it was the Helix.

Oba held it up and began invoking an arcane phrase. The cube started glowing, the light brighter and brighter as he repeated the invocation, eventually shouting the words as loudly as he could, the veins in his great neck bulging, spittle raining from his mouth.

“Hold on tight!” Thomas yelled as a terrible vibration circulated through their arms, threatening to break their grips on each other. When the light built up to a blinding climax, the air ruptured with a deafening tearing sound, yanking them forward at impossible speed. A moment later, they were tumbling along snowy ground, barely missing trees, until finally there was only the quiet of the night and the distant hooting of an owl.

The Trapper

Augum stood up in knee-deep snow, trying to make his head stop spinning. Leera was nearest so he offered her a hand first. “You all right?”

She coughed and nodded.

One by one, the others gained their footing, taking a bewildered look about. They were in a forest of snow-encrusted evergreens. It was a starry night, the moon’s crescent points lending just enough light to see. The cold was sharp, frosting their breath.

Augum noticed Thomas was still down on one knee, head bowed low, his breathing labored.

“Are you all right, Great-grandfather?”

“I am fine, but let us speak quietly. We do not know what manner of folk stir in these woods.”

Augum helped him stand. As he did so, he noticed the Leyan’s skin lacked its bronze luster—it was now pale and prickled with goose bumps. He also saw that his eyes were no longer night black, but rather light gray, with flecks of gold. “Great-grandfather … what’s happening to you?”

“Never you mind me—we have other concerns at the moment.”

Bridget draped a gray wool blanket around Thomas’ shoulders, then handed another one to Sydo, whose burnt doublet least resisted the cold. “That’s the last of the blankets,” she said. “Knew I should have taken more.”

“We need to find proper boots for Mr. Stone, m’lords and ladies,” Mya whispered, nodding at his slippers while drawing her servant garment close.

Augum silently agreed and drew his hood. They weren’t going to last long unless they found appropriate garb and shelter. “Where are we, Great-grandfather?”

Thomas glanced up at the stars. “We were supposed to teleport to the Northern Peaks, but I am afraid the portal cube is a difficult artifact to wield, especially for a 4th degree warlock such as Oba. I do believe we are somewhere in Solia, though it has been some time since I have navigated by star.” He fixed his gaze upon Augum, wrinkles around his eyes apparent for the first time. “The situation is grave. We must find Anna before my time is up. Let us walk.”

“Sir—wait, what do you mean?” Bridget asked in a quivering voice.

”And what about your seventeen degrees?” Sydo added, teeth chattering. “Could you not use your arcanery—?”

“My arcanery is no more. I am … less than mortal. I will explain when we find shelter. Come—north is this way.”

Augum exchanged an alarmed look with Bridget and Leera before following along, paying close attention to his great-grandfather now. The Leyan’s steps were hesitant, as if he had not walked in snow for a long time, and his back hunched as if carrying a heavy load.

Bridget came alongside Thomas. “Sir, can you tell us what happened to the Leyans? Why are they so stubbornly against helping mortals?”

“Much has changed from the Ley of old, the Ley you know from stories and legends.” He kept pace while watching the trees, like a man hunted.

He even talks and moves differently, Augum thought, watching his great-grandfather raise his sandaled feet above the snow.

“There are three theories on what is happening,” Thomas continued. “The first and the simplest is that Song of the Wastes, a defensive measure implemented after the creation of the scions, has slowly corrupted Ley and Leyans alike over time. The effect of this would be almost imperceptible, occurring over the course of fifteen hundred years or so, as subtly as the influence of water on stone. The second theory is that some Leyans have not relinquished the mortal realm and work to find and support the next Lord of Death, while maintaining to the others that Leyans should stay away from the world.”