Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (52 page)

This dampened the mood considerably and they ate on in silence. Augum pondered how long a way it was to the northern peaks. They lacked horses and proper supplies. As far as battling the cold, all they had were blankets, and that wouldn’t do for this kind of journey. If they had only been able to teleport to Antioc, they would have stood a chance of keeping pace with his father …

It wasn’t a total disaster to be back in Sparrow’s Perch, however—he and Bridget were now fully healed and they had a chance to see Leland again. All they needed to do was find Mrs. Stone. Suddenly an idea occurred to him.

“Wait—what about using a speaking orb?”

Bridget began taking everyone’s empty plate. “For what?”

He quickly filled her in on what Ms. Jenkins said, about how these orbs were supposed to be very rare, that most of the Legion commanders had one, and that they communicated to each other with them.

“I’m not following you though,” Leera said. “How could we communicate with Mrs. Stone when neither she nor us have one?”

Bridget’s eyes lit up. “Wait a moment—we kind of
do
have a speaking orb—we can hear through the Orb of Orion, and others can hear us! And didn’t Erika say that it
was
a speaking orb, only better?”

Leera threw her hands up. “Yeah, okay, but I still don’t see what you’re getting at. Let me repeat myself—Mrs. Stone. Does. Not. Have. A. Speaking. Orb.”

Bridget sighed as she took the plates to the washstand. “But what if we found someone further up to communicate with, someone closer to Mrs. Stone?”

“Wait, wait, wait …” Augum interrupted. “Ms. Jenkins also said that the orbs have to be tuned together.”

Leera crossed her arms with a firm nod. “That’s right!”

Mr. Goss chuckled to himself. “I have not heard so much talk of arcanery since Annie and I showed up at the academy to enroll Leland …”

The trio smiled awkwardly. Mr. Goss looked around at them with pride, face glowing. Augum felt awful knowing they had to leave him and his poor son behind in this town full of lonely memories.

“On the subject of these speaking orbs—” Mr. Goss went on, removing his spectacles and rubbing his eyes. “I seem to recall—and mind you I may easily be mistaken as I am not very knowledgeable in the arcane arts—that Lord Tennyson had a collection of scrolls in his basement.”

The trio exchanged hopeful looks. Everyone immediately understood the implication—there could be a scroll of teleportation!

“Now mind you, I have tried going down there, but the place burned to the ground, or rather in this case, well below the ground. It is quite treacherous.”

“Mr. Goss, do you mind if we go take a look anyway?” Bridget asked in her most polite tone.

“Well, seeing how dangerous it could be, I would rather you not, but I also understand how much reuniting with Mrs. Stone means to you all. Therefore, I shall not stand in your way. Just promise me that you will be extremely careful.”

The trio nodded vigorously. “We promise.”

They departed as soon as they could.

The day was windy and gray. A blanket of fresh milky snow coated everything, partially obscuring the many Legion footprints.

“It’s over here—” Leera said, leading the way through the burned-out buildings.

“What was this?” Augum asked as they passed a particularly large structure, now a mess of torched planks and cracked tiles.

“It was going to be our new school,” Bridget replied before catching up to Leera.

He stared at the destroyed building, remembering the joyous moment when he found out he’d been admitted to the village school. What might have been had Tennyson not betrayed the village, he thought, before catching up to the girls.

Bridget stood before a quaint home that had completely collapsed in the fire. “This is—this
was
my home once.” She turned to nod at another not too far from Mr. Goss’. “And that one there was Leera’s.”

“I don’t want to look at it,” Leera said, voice full of bitterness. She moved along, Bridget and Augum in tow.

Soon they stood before a rather large round home, the once majestic pine tree above it now charred and barren. Inside, part of the floor had collapsed, exposing a gaping snow-covered pit. They climbed down, navigating the sharp debris.

“Shyneo,” Augum said, barely noticing his palm crackle to life. He was so used to casting the spell it had become almost subconscious. Leera and Bridget quickly followed suit, lighting up the blackened interior with green and blue light.

He stepped over a large wooden truss that once supported the ceiling.

“Watch your step—” Bridget yelped, grabbing his arm. One of his feet was on a small piece of charred wood that covered a hole.

Leera crouched by the hole and shone her light down it. “There’s another floor below us. Might even be more.”

“Tennyson was a rich man,” Bridget said. “Hired a high-degree earth-element warlock to excavate the clay. Wouldn’t dare to have my lowly father do it for him—what would the Scarsons think?”

“Runs in the damn family,” Leera added.

Augum picked up the remains of a very fine boot. “If Tennyson was the one that tipped off the Legion, why didn’t they save all his stuff?”

Bridget examined a charred bookshelf. “I get the feeling he didn’t realize they were going to raze the village. Maybe he thought he would be allowed to stay, have the village to himself or something.”

They turned things over, perused piles of charred furniture, and examined anything that had half-survived the fire, of which there was precious little, and certainly nothing of use. Navigating the scorched detritus proved difficult, and the further the trio went, the more they feared the structure would collapse. It creaked and groaned as if pleading to be put out of its misery, the wooden floors threatening to give way any moment. It quickly became apparent Mr. Goss’ warning about the place was no overstatement.

“Can’t find the stairs anywhere,” Augum muttered as they reached the end of the first floor.

“Let’s just climb down through a hole,” Leera said.

“Are you crazy?” Bridget countered, face smeared with soot. “How would we get back up?”

Leera snickered. “You look like a barbarian. Every time you push your hair aside, you add to it.”

“What?”

“Check your fingers, they’re black.”

“Oh … darn.”

“One of these days I’m going to teach you how to curse properly.”

Bridget snorted before breaking into a cough. “Let’s find the stairs,” and she stumbled off.

“Leave her alone, she’s trying to blend in,” Augum whispered. The two of them suppressed laughter.

Suddenly there was a wooden groaning sound, a shriek, and Leera was gone.

Augum dropped to his knees by the hole while Bridget raced over, but Leera was already laughing.

Bridget scowled. “What’s so funny—you almost died!”

“I know, and now I’m stuck!” Leera said between snorts of laughter, jammed to the waist in the floor. “Since my feet are dangling, we can definitely say it keeps going down though!”

Leera finally hauled herself up.

“Wait there, we’re going to look for some stairs—” Bridget said in a firm voice, and the two of them went to search for the stairs, locating them under a pile of rubble. When they finally caught up to Leera, she was readying to jump down through yet another hole.

“Why not just use the stairs—?” Bridget asked.

“Because it wouldn’t be as exciting,” Augum answered on her behalf. Leera pointed at him without looking up. “Exactly, listen to the wise Augum, who thrives on adventure and seeks it at every turn, as do I. You spent too long lying on that table!”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “Spare me. I’m taking the stairs. Aug—?”

He looked between the girls, each with their own expectant look, and shrugged. “Guess I’ll take the hole.” When Bridget scowled, he added, “What? Someone’s got to keep an eye on her, otherwise she might break her neck.”

“Fine. You’re taking foolish risks, the both of you.” Bridget marched off.

He slipped down to where Leera was. She was already hanging from the edge of the hole, dangling like a monkey.

“Ugh, she needs to loosen up,” she said before letting go.

He followed, landing with a thud onto clay ground, indicating it was likely the lowest floor. He began searching the area with his lit palm. Suddenly there was a girlish shriek and the sound of something collapsing. They bolted towards Bridget, finding her entombed in a pile of burnt timber—the remains of the stairs. Two white eyes blinked from a soot-black face.

“Don’t you dare say anything—” she hissed through gritted teeth as they each offered her a hand. “I can stand up on my own, thank you very much.” She calmly used Telekinesis to push aside the charred planks, trying to keep what was left of her dignity.

He and Leera didn’t even exchange glances, knowing that if they did, both of them would break out in laughter.

They moved on with their search, navigating a plethora of charred obstacles. Augum saw a small hole behind some debris. Following his intuition, he shoved the largest piece of timber out of the way, revealing a spacious cavity in the wall.

“There’s another room here!”

The girls fought their way over as he shone his light inside, observing a curious set of cubbyholes against all the walls, most filled with sheaves of charred parchment.

“This must be it.” Leera shoved aside another charred plank. “Look—scrolls! Or what’s left of them anyway.” She picked up one burned husk and it disintegrated in her hands.

They began searching the cubbyholes. Finally, Leera stuck her arm in one all the way up to her shoulder, carefully extruding an unburned scroll. “Got one!” She immediately began unrolling the parchment.

“Great, another one of these,” Augum muttered, eyeing the contents. The script, as with the Group Teleport scroll, was small, detailed and wordy.

Bridget tapped the heading. “Slow Time. Might come in handy.”

“We’d have to practice reading it.” He recalled how difficult the pronunciation was with Group Teleport. If it hadn’t been for Centarro …

Leera pointed to a particular passage. “It only affects one person though. That means careful planning.”

After everyone had a good look, she rolled it back up and they finished searching, finding nothing else.

“Wait a moment, let’s all try Unconceal,” Bridget said.

“I’ll keep my light on.” He wished he knew how to chronocast. It’d be awesome to cast Unconceal while keeping Shine going at the same time. Mrs. Stone knew how to do it. He wondered if it was even possible to learn at his degree.

The girls fell silent with concentration while he looked on, unconsciously dimming his light a little.

Bridget glanced up. “Did you just do that—?”

“Do what? I was just standing here.”

Leera also stared at him. “I noticed it too—you dimmed your light like Mrs. Stone. How did you do that?”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just … did it.”

Leera gave him a wry look. “Teach it to us.”

Like toddlers finding a shinier object to play with, they forgot about the Unconceal spell and immediately began practicing dimming Shine instead.

As a testament to their adeptness, they were soon dimming and brightening their palms with ease.

“Thanks for that little lesson, Mr. Stone,” Bridget said. “Where were we?”

“Unconceal,” he replied.

“Right.” She closed her eyes for a bit. “Un vun deo.”

He lit the way for her, Leera resting and watching from the sidelines. Bridget delicately held her hand before her, fingers spread wide, feeling for the slightest hint of intent to hide something. For a while, she only stood there.

Augum exchanged an unsurprised look with Leera.

Suddenly Bridget began moving towards a burnt bookshelf. “There’s something behind here.” They immediately pushed the bookshelf out of the way, revealing a small iron door.

“I don’t believe it,” Leera said. “A secret door …”

Bridget kneeled down and pulled on its inset handle. The door creaked open and they leaned in. “It’s another scroll.” The parchment was cracked and yellow. She carefully unfurled it and started reading.

Thus leans this wickedest stone

So shall grant the oldest crone

One wish speaketh without fear

Be warned it shall becometh real

So shall ye giveth tooth or bone

Of ancient wings and death reborn

And warned ye be it would be best

If ye followed one Lord of Death

Find thy mark three pointed star

Shout with Shine your wish bizarre

Crush the object against the stone

And prepare to meet the ancient crone

When she finished, they exchanged ominous glances.

“Sounds like a vile curse or something,” Leera whispered. “Like necromancy …”

Augum squinted. “There’s something else written in the margin.”

Bridget twisted the scroll, struggling to read the tiny script aloud. “ ‘Beware thy wish be true and plain, for in exchange thy soul she’ll drain’.

He frowned. “What does
that
mean?”

“It means we can’t screw up the wording,” Leera replied. “Or she’ll swoop in and suck out our guts.”

“It has to mean she’ll drain our arcane stamina,” Bridget said. “So it’s particularly important to get the wording right, because otherwise we’ll be left defenseless.” She traced over the words with her finger. “So what I’m getting from this is—and sorry for the rhymes, but—if you crush a tooth or bone … against a stone … you’d be visited by some old crone … who’d then grant you a wish.”

Leera made a sour face. “Sounds like bad poetry.”

“So what do you think it means by ‘three pointed star’?” he asked.

Bridget bit her lip. “Maybe you have to do this at night, pointing at a particular formation of stars. It’s probably some sort of pillar or something. And I think you have to cast Shine while you shout your wish, because it says ‘Shout with Shine your wish bizarre’ …”

“And obviously you have to be a follower of the Lord of Death,” Leera said.

“Well, it just says ‘it would be best’.” Bridget read the scroll again to herself, lips moving silently. Suddenly she glanced to Augum’s chest.