Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (22 page)

Cled shuffled forward. “Use ‘See’? That some power ye be talking about, boy? Ye be trying to magic your way out, that it?”

He didn’t respond, thinking Cled may be a spy planted there by the Blade of Sorrows to keep an eye on them. Centarro was their only hope right now. He couldn’t take the chance of the Legion discovering the spell. For all he knew, they might be forced to teach the Legion how to use it, and such a spell would be disastrous in the wrong hands. He wondered if there was a prisoner to his left that might overhear, yet he hadn’t heard anyone stir in that cell, nor had soup been delivered there.

Cled’s eyes shifted left and right as his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, let me tell ye a secret, boy—one o’ me own sons is a warlock.”

Augum leaned forward. “What?” He could hear Leera do the same.

“That’s right, he once be a Legion warlock, until they done killed him for helping the other side.”

“I’m sorry,” Augum said.

“Now don’t go getting me wrong, when he was just a wee one, I tries to beat it out o’ him, I did. I tries hard, but it only made him want it more.” His eyes dropped. “I be regretting the way I was. I done him no good. I done him no good at all.”

Augum had this strange vision of Mr. Penderson before him and had to rub his eyes.

Cled put his toothless mug right up against the bars now, face grave. “Ye listen to me now, boy, and you listen good. What I be saying is, I
understand
. If ye can magic your way out, ye done better do it. Get out. Get out now, boy. And why? Because soon they’ll take them girls and put them to work for the war, and you’ll never see them again. That’s what happens to girls who done the Legion no good.”

Augum’s heart thundered. Cled was right, and maybe, just maybe, he isn’t a spy after all. He felt the blood in his veins roar again as his mind raced to come up with a plan.

“Go on. Get. And I thank ye for the soup and bread, boy, it done saved me life for one more day.” Cled retreated into the shadows of his cell, leaving Augum to contemplate. And then an idea came, and it involved study.

“Psst. Leera—” Her hand appeared and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s begin.”

“Damn right. What’s the plan?”

“Study your door. See if you can find a weakness using C. If you find one, pass it along, but keep the door closed. Don’t break it or anything or do anything else. Just learn and observe. Oh, and be sure to prepare for the side effects.”

“Gotcha.”

He returned to Thomas’ initial training on Centarro, when his great-grandfather made them carefully examine the bark of a tree. With that lesson in mind, he set himself to inspecting the bars again—every detail, including every one of the four hinges, and especially the lock mechanism. There was nothing apparent, but he knew that wasn’t the point. Under the influence of Centarro, he may yet find some use for his observations.

That complete, he studiously planned casting the spell. Leera and Bridget had been a bit less patient than he, casting it almost right away and with little success, yet passing on information they had learned in their trials. Bridget revealed it was best to cast it right after the guards patrolled by, and to face the wall at the back of the cell when it wears off so one’s attention is focused on something unexciting.

Leera, on the other hand, managed to pick off a small shard of iron from one of the bars, which could be used as a small tool. She also told him that his calming words helped when the spell had worn off, and that she would return the favor when he tried.

All this information, in addition to what he had observed, he would apply to this trial. When the guards next walked by, he took three deep breaths and closed his eyes.

“Centeratoraye xao xen.”

Immediately time seemed to slow as he became aware of every subtlety. Colors enhanced and sharpened; sound boomed and whispered nuances; the rhythm of his heart ebbed and flowed musically.

Cled watched with interest, but Augum paid him no heed.

First, he planned for the after-effects—he was going to turn around and stare at the back wall and spend the time simply thanking his great-grandfather for passing on this knowledge, and that was all. He then pressed forward and explored the bars with his hands, especially the hinges, finding nothing to exploit. He focused on the lock.

“Leera,” he whispered, reaching out his hand. “The shard.”

She handed it to him and he began exploring the inner working of the lock. The feeling soon came that his time was almost up, but all he needed to do was understand how it worked, and so he fiddled carefully, not trying to open it, just trying to
understand
it.

Suddenly it dawned on him he needed a second shard.

He continued working on the lock right up until a dull fog started to cloud out his thoughts. It was enough. He knew he had something, an understanding of the inner workings of that lock. He dropped the shard and faced the wall, closing his eyes and repeating, “Thank you, Great-grandfather.”

Meanwhile, Leera whispered encouraging words: “Good job, Augum. Relax, just sit and relax, there’s nothing going on out here, the guards are
not
coming …” She continued speaking this way until his fog cleared. His head throbbed and he felt woozy, but under the circumstances, it was a very successful casting.

“I think I might be able to pick the lock. Just need another shard or something.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She disappeared to whisper with Mya, reporting they’re looking for one now.

A guard patrol sauntered by, unaware of their plans.

Cled leaned into the light. “Mighty brave, boy. They’d whip ye raw or worse if ye get caught. I wish ye luck, though luck not be good as this—” and he produced something from within his rags.

“I found it when they be giving me a whipping for asking about me boys. They never saw me take it. I been hiding it ever since, thinking I might be needing it one day, either for them, or for me own throat.” He wheezed a laugh and tossed it to him. It turned out to be the blade of a kitchen knife, missing its handle.

Augum smiled for the first time in what felt like days. “Thank you, it’s exactly what I need.” He informed Leera, who gave a quiet squeal before passing on the word. Then he waited a while, renewing his arcane energies—just in case.

“Good luck, Aug,” she whispered.

The timing of this had to be crucial. “Don’t screw this up,” he muttered to himself. He gripped the lock, terribly conscious of how exposed his hands were, and went at it, working only when the guards’ backs were turned. They passed by twice more without him getting caught, thanks to his lookouts—Cled watched the left, girls the right.

At last, he heard the most satisfying sound in the world—
click
.

The lock had sprung.

Cled’s gnarled face pressed against the bars, grinning toothlessly. “By barrel o’ ale—ye done did it, boy. Careful now, don’t be rushing. Wait till they pass.”

He forgot about the pain in his chest as the guards lumbered by. Should they touch his cell door, they would instantly know it was open. Soon as he saw the back of them, he went to push on the door, but Cled’s hand shot up.

“Wait, boy. Ye be needing help opening them bars, they be too loud.” Cled made a show of coughing like a sick man. Augum winced as he opened the door. Sure enough, it squeaked, but the guards hadn’t noticed. It worked. He snuck through unseen and took his first look around, quickly realizing just how dangerous this was. There were two guards patrolling back and forth down a long corridor, currently pacing off to the left. He would not have much time to get back in his cell. The knees of another sentry protruded from the far right. He hoped that sentry had the keys.

For the first time, he saw Bridget and Mya, disheveled but unharmed. Bridget held a hand over her mouth while Mya bit her lip. Both eyed him with great concern, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the way his face looked, or the situation, or both. Nonetheless, seeing them buoyed his spirits.

He prowled to the right, finger on his lips. Frightened emaciated faces watched from the cells between him and the sitting sentry. As he crept past the last three, he was able to see the man scribbling away at a parchment. Thankfully, a ring of keys hung above his shoulder on the wall. Should the man raise his head, should the patrolling guards turn sooner than usual, or should his timing be off even a little—

Augum sharpened his focus, ignoring his many aches and pains. The lives of his friends depended on his next action. There was only one chance—he would have to use Telekinesis in a new way.

His heart raced. He better be ready for what he was about to try.

Sweat prickled his forehead as he raised his arm, envisioning the task, sure it could work. He pointed at the keys and made a confident gesture. They silently lifted off the peg. He took a shallow breath to calm his nerves, letting the keys dangle above the man’s head, refusing to think about the two guards somewhere behind him, who only needed to turn around to spot him.

A subtle gesture resumed the journey. The keys hovered past cells of wide-eyed prisoners and into his waiting hand. He immediately smothered them in his robe and scurried back to his cell, ignoring the whispers. Miraculously, the guards at the other end had stopped to argue about some woman, for if they had been patrolling like normal, he would have been late returning to his cell.

He slipped through the door as Cled faked another coughing fit. When he held up his prize, the old man’s eyes brightened.

“Done craziest thing I ever seen. Hope ye know what ye be doing, boy.”

So did he, but there was no time to dwell on it. The next part was crucial and time was of the essence. What he was about to attempt demanded precision and a large amount of luck. He waited until the two guards patrolled by again. They were still arguing about a woman, yet all they needed to do was look at the spot where the keys once hung and it would be over.

He heard them converse with the sentry. Don’t notice the empty peg, don’t notice the empty peg!

Thankfully, they continued their patrol without raising the alarm. Almost as soon as they passed back to the left, he gave the signal and Cled started coughing. He readied to open the cell door—

“Shut it, old man!” said one of the guards, making his way back to Cled’s cell. “Sick of hearing your hacks. Die already!”

Cled threw a hand over his mouth and nodded, eyes cast to the floor. The glaring guard turned, glanced at Augum—whose white-knuckled hands gripped the bars—scowled, and returned to conversing with his colleague.

The only thing to do now was to wait for a loud noise of some kind. The patrol soon wandered by again, postponing the escape further. Augum felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. It was only a matter of time until a guard discovered the keys stolen.

A commotion erupted from the right.

His heart sank. That’s it, they’ve been found …

“Attention! The Lord of the Legion arrives!” someone yelled. Many cried in despair, fearing the worst. The two patrolling guards rushed by. “Make sure the report is done before the lord arrives!” one of them said.

“Aug—” Leera whispered from her cell, “all the guards but the sentry are gone now. Hurry—”

“I’m on it—”

After being put to the question, he no longer felt the urge to talk his father out of his ambitions. No, they were getting out of there right then. He opened his cell door just enough to squeeze through, the squeak muffled by the general tumult. He withdrew the iron ring and realized he had no clue which key it was. There must have been hundreds. He stared at them, dumbstruck.

Leera reached out. “Here, let me help—”

He handed the ring to her and she began sorting.

“Look, they have symbols—”

Sure enough, each key had a tiny symbol engraved on it, like a triangle with a dot inside it, or a square within a square, and so on. He found a tiny symbol just above the lock—a circle with a triangle inside—found the respective key, and opened her cell.

“Excellent—” Leera whispered, giving his hand a squeeze before the pair scampered on to Mya’s cell. This time Leera helped and they found the key almost immediately. Mya, whose almond eyes had dark circles underneath, flashed a grateful smile that made Augum’s stomach flutter.

Bridget’s cell was last. By this time, some of the other prisoners began pleading for release, even threatening to raise the alarm if they weren’t freed.

Augum made gestures indicating they’d all be freed but to be patient. He ran back to Cled’s cell and threw him the keys.

“Boy, ye crazy—!”

Augum inspected the lock. “Your symbol is a circle within a circle. Free as many as you can. Good luck—” and he rushed to his friends who anxiously watched a pair of knees at the end of the corridor. The sentry frantically scribbled away, trying to finish his report, doing his best to ignore all the commotion in the cells.

They had to get past him to escape.

Bridget quickly swept cinnamon hair from her face. “I have an idea—”

To their utter horror, she strolled right up the sitting guard and raised her arm. “SHYNEO!” An ivy ring formed around her wrist just as her palm exploded with writhing vines.

Parchment flew as the guard jumped.

“I am a warlock, and if you so much as move, I will entangle you and squeeze until you suffocate!”

It was a tremendous gamble. Had the guard any knowledge of arcanery, he would have instantly known a warlock with a single degree would not have that power.

The guard froze.

Bridget, never dropping eye contact, gestured for them to run past. The other prisoners begged for release, but they had to be ignored. There was no time.

“How do we get out of here?” Bridget asked as Augum ran by, the tumult in the cells rising.

The guard’s eyes shifted about before he stuttered a reply. “You go right twice and then left—”

But Augum remembered the smell of winter from near the interrogation room, which was a right, a left, up thirty steps, and right at a fork.

“He’s lying—” he said. “Don’t worry, I know where it is. Follow me—”