Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (17 page)

Bridget plopped down between Augum and Leera, trying to unknot her hair. “I think we’ve been spoiled by that Leyan bath. Not looking too pretty anymore, are we, Lee?”

Leera flipped over a sizzling cut of mirko and ran a finger through her already greasy and matted hair. “Well, at least we didn’t get the other royal Leyan treatment.” She tapped her temple.

Augum chuckled and grimaced. “Don’t … make … me laugh.”As soon as the meat was ready, Leera portioned it out, a big juicy slice for everyone, largest for Augum. Bridget helped Sydo take small bites while Leera cut up Mya’s steak with Blackbite.

Augum shook his great-grandfather until he roused, helped him grip a bowl of meat.

Perhaps it was the fact Augum had hunted it himself, or perhaps because he was very hungry, but when he bit into that fire-roasted mirko meat, he thought it the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. Even Thomas cracked an ancient but weary smile as he slowly ate.

Leera broke out in a wide grin. “I think Mr. Stone just tasted food for the first time since becoming Leyan.”

Thomas gave her a blank look. Leera made a show of smiling and pointing at the food, and Mr. Stone nodded and gave a toothy smile, head trembling uncontrollably, reminding Augum of that twisted Leyan elder, Magua.

They quietly savored every morsel. When they finished, everyone relaxed by the fire. Thomas snoozed for a time before suddenly moaning, eyes fluttering open.

“Mr. Stone—would—you—like—some—tea?” Bridget asked loudly. “Oh, he’s going deaf,” she added upon spotting the expression on Augum’s face.

Thomas Stone, looking every bit one hundred years old, feebly rose, throwing off his blanket. He peered right at Augum, eyes now milk white, and reached out a withered hand.

“I’m here, Great-grandfather, I’m right here,” Augum said, realizing the poor man was going blind too. He grasped his hand and gave it a pat. It was cold and coarse to the touch.

“Great-grandson …” Thomas began in a hoarse whisper, pausing between words to take wheezing breaths. “The last Lord of Death … had three kinds of undead servants … the first …” he raised a withered finger, “is the common kind … men called them …
walkers
… old dead returned … fast … vicious … could be … destroyed by fire … Dreadnought steel … and strong arcanery.” He paused to take a few labored breaths. “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. And the third are …
revenants
… these you must fear … for they have been raised … using the most powerful … and ancient … arcanery.”

Augum nodded, swallowing hard, amazed this man was still trying to teach them something. He thought of his ancestor, Atrius Arinthian, and wondered which of the three undead servants he had become.

Thomas suddenly took hold of Augum’s shoulder and pulled him close. “One day … you will face … your father … do not … despair … train hard … it will be a mirror … of your fears … it has been this way … for eons … the blood of kin … can …” but he began choking.

“Great-grandfather! Leera, Bridge—something’s wrong—!”

The veins on Thomas’s face bulged. “Tell … Anna … I … love … her …” and with that, his eyes closed and he slumped into Augum’s arms.

“Great-grandfather?” He shook him, appalled by the fact his weight was down to that of a child’s. “Great-grandfather!” but it was no use. He was gone.

Mya’s head fell into her hands, her shoulders heaving. Bridget and Leera quietly wrapped their arms around Augum and his great-grandfather. The prince only watched through a fevered haze.

It was a long time before the girls let go, squeezing Augum’s shoulder, leaving him alone.

“I promise I’ll tell her, Great-grandpa,” Augum whispered, still cradling him, “I promise I’ll tell her …”

***

The funeral pyre burned bright against the canopy of pines, setting them aglow in a flickering light. For a time the night was pushed away. Mya and Sydo had stayed inside, too sick to do anything, while Augum, Bridget and Leera cleared a spot for the fire and gathered branches and logs from the trapper’s shed, eventually building a small platform for Thomas to rest on.

The girls wanted Augum to stay inside but he absolutely insisted on helping, gritting his teeth and fighting through the grating pain. The pile complete, they had carried Thomas out and tenderly placed him on it, folding his hands across his chest. They stood in silence for as long as they dared in the frigid night, before Augum retrieved a flaming stick from inside the cabin. The trio held it together, lighting the platform’s corners.

Augum watched the flames dance higher and higher. He did not care at all if the fire attracted anyone, he was too pre-occupied wondering why his great-grandfather hadn’t remained in Ley and just told them what would happen to him should he leave. The more he thought about it, the more it just didn’t make sense. He needlessly threw his life away.

They bore the cold and stood watching until the fire devolved into glowing embers. Then they snuffed it out with snow, scattering the ashes amongst the trees. Augum couldn’t think of anywhere more appropriate than a forest for his great-grandfather to rest in, other than Ley.

“Goodbye, Great-grandpa,” he whispered, gently pouring the last of his ashes around the trunk of a large pine.

The task complete, they padded back indoors, sitting in silence for a long time. Augum watched the flames, trying to come to grips with feeling abandoned, first by his mother and father, then by his great-grandmother, and now by his great-grandfather. Must be a family tradition. But they left for good reasons, didn’t they? Not his father …

He glanced to the empty spot on the bearskin rug Thomas once occupied. This time, there would be no memorial ceremony. He ran his hand across it before laying down in it, feeling the warmth of the fire.

Sleep came quickly that night.

A Dangerous Trek

Augum woke to Bridget shaking him awake. “The prince is worse—” she said in a panicked voice. “He won’t wake up and his forehead is boiling.”

He sat up and peered at Sydo, who lay on his side in a nest of blankets. Mya held a damp cloth to his forehead with one hand, fidgeting with her servant gown with the other. Leera, meanwhile, was trying to start the fire again. They had forgotten to set a fire watch, and the trapper hadn’t returned yet. It was cold in the cabin, fogging their breath. Augum plucked stray fibers from the blankets, the bear rug, and his robe. After gathering a handful, he handed them to Leera. “Try this.” Sir Westwood had taught him that trick.

“Thanks.” Leera gathered it into a pile and began striking flint against a small steel rod.

Augum’s eyes searched for Thomas’ frame before realizing he would never see his great-grandfather again. The hollow pang in his stomach returned.

Mya brushed Sydo’s damp hair away from his forehead. “We need the services of an arcane healer or he will not survive.”

For a moment, everyone stopped what they were doing and glanced to the prince and Mya.

“It’s a days’ walk east to Tornvale,” Augum said. “Maybe I can find a healer there.”

“Forgive me, m’lo—err, Augum—but healers are very rare,” Mya said. “You will not find one in a hamlet or a village—only in a city.”

“Not to mention they’re expensive,” Leera said, intensifying her efforts with the flint. “We could wait for the trapper. He could take Sydo to Tornvale on a sled or something.”

Mya glanced down at the wheezing prince. “Pardon, m‘lady, but what if the trapper refuses to take him, or does not return for another day? We cannot wait.”

“Ugh, I hate that m’lady stuff. You’re not my servant.”

“My apologies, Leera, it is force of habit.”

“I’ll go,” Augum said.

Concern passed over Bridget’s face. “But your ribs—”

He shrugged, forcing himself not to wince.

Leera blew at a spark. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“No way,” Bridget said. “You’d freeze without a winter garment.”

Leera added some twigs to the smoking pile. “Not if I wrap myself in blankets, and not if we make mitts and boots out of more wolf hide.”

“We can’t just take more hide, the trapper will throw us out—”

“Look, mirko is harder to come by than wolf. We can scrape and clean it, then leave it for him in trade.”

“I don’t know,” Augum said, fearing for Leera but also wanting company.

“Look, it’s simple—if you’re going, I am too.” She blew at the tinder and a tiny flame emerged. “Bridget can stay here with Mya and look after the prince. Mya seems to be getting better anyway, her fever broke this morning.”

“It’s true,” Mya said. “We have the mirko meat, we now have fire again, and we can make water and tea from snow. We’ll be fine. And I agree, Augum should have someone with him this time, and I’m still too weak. But we
do
need to make the mitts and boots first.”

Bridget looked at them all before reluctantly nodding. “Then we have to start right away if you’re to make it to Tornvale by nightfall.”

They worked in quiet harmony, roasting mirko then making two pairs of boots and two pairs of mitts from three ragged wolf pelts. The prince, meanwhile, seemed to be getting worse. His coughing came from deep within his chest, his breathing was ragged, and he mumbled deliriously.

They finished in the afternoon. Augum threw on the wolf hide coat and pants, grabbed some roasted mirko meat wrapped in linen, and pulled on the newly made mitts and boots, right over his own leather turnshoes.

“Couldn’t buy a better pair if you tried,” he said.

“Forgive me but you need to make haste,” Mya said, blotting the prince’s forehead.

Leera glanced out a snow-encrusted window. “We’re already behind. It’ll be well past dark by the time we reach Tornvale.”

If we even find it, he thought. Travelling during the day was one thing, travelling by night quite another altogether. And in unfamiliar land no less.

Leera pulled on the boots, mitts, gathered a blanket, and punched Augum on the shoulder. “Come on.”

“Wait—” Bridget said. “Here, take Blackbite.”

Augum waved it off. “We have Burden’s Edge.”

Leera finished filling a skin of water from the kettle. “If the trapper returns—”

“—we’ll tell him you’ve gone to Tornvale for help,” Bridget said.

Augum peered at Mya and Bridget, both of whom stood to give them a farewell hug. When Mya wrapped her long arms around him, he felt a shiver. Things were different now though. There was a sense of urgency. Their
lives
were on the line here. It was more than just a friendly hug—it was an embrace with hopes of survival attached.

She fixed him with those almond eyes. “Be careful and good luck.” Then she traded with Bridget to hug Leera.

Bridget gave him a strong squeeze. He grimaced but bore the pain. “Come back to us,” she whispered, sweeping long cinnamon hair from her face.

“We will, and I’ll try to bring more food. We should be back by nightfall tomorrow.”

Bridget glanced back at Sydo. “Just hope he makes it …”

Leera drew her hood and wrapped the blanket around herself like a giant shawl. She grinned. “All right, stop stalling,” and the pair exited, waving their last goodbyes as they descended the creaking steps.

Augum’s heart grew heavy upon seeing the charred area where they had cremated his great-grandfather. They strode by without a word, the snow crisp underfoot. It was a gray, windy day, the cold bitter and unrelenting. It was difficult keeping direction, though he generally had a good idea of which way was east. It was mostly a matter of paying attention to the trees, as there were signs that helped determine from where the sun usually shone, such as the particular bend of certain bushes, or the abundance of moss on one side of a trunk. He perpetually scanned the surface of the snow, his heart racing with every pockmark or depression. Sticks in the sand, sticks in the snow, reveal a man, dead long ago …

Leera kept right behind him. “We have to push on till we get to the village. Let’s not stop too much else we’ll freeze out here. This cold is brutal.”

“Is the blanket enough?”

“I’m managing …”

All she wore were wool apprentice robes, linen undergarments, mitts, boots, and a single blanket. He knew that was dangerously inadequate and made a note to watch her. “We’ll trade later.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Their pace soon slowed. As the day wore on, the terrain became hilly and the trees shorter and sparser, broken by occasional snowy fields. The pair hardly talked at all, conserving their energies, stopping only once to eat some salted mirko steak. The wind picked up as nightfall approached, throwing snowdrift in their faces. Both their teeth were chattering now, and Augum was no longer able to feel his toes or his face, despite having drawn his hood tight around his head. His chest grated with each step, a ceaseless annoyance he just couldn’t get used to. Leera insisted all the while she was fine and refused to trade the blanket for his coat and pants.

It was well past dusk, the sky opaque, when he began to worry. They had yet to stumble across a hunting or merchant trail.

Leera, breathing heavily, stumbled. “Can we stop for a bit?”

They hunkered down by a white birch, barely shielded from the frequent gusts.

He glanced at her. Her skin was pale and her teeth were chattering. “That’s it, we’re trading.”

“No, I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not! We’re trading and I don’t want to hear anymore about it. Now get up.”

She groaned but didn’t stand. “Can’t … Too cold.”

He drew her hood tight around her head for her then removed his wolf coat as fast as he could. He began to stuff it on her when she stopped him.

“No! Not over the blanket—you’re taking
that
,
at least.”

“Fine.” He took the blanket from her and finished helping her put on the coat. Then he removed his hide pants and made her step into them, the whole process shooting spasms through his chest and draining his energy. His legs began shaking almost immediately. How in Sithesia had she lasted this long? Why hadn’t he been more attentive to her needs? He wrapped the blanket around himself and hunkered down beside her, his own teeth chattering.