Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (63 page)

“Adai!” Robin said in a firm voice, and the wraith instantly ceased. He gestured over to a rather large pile of horse dung. “Necro sinna ad endo.”

“No!” Sydo shouted. “Gods, no—adai! ADAI!” but the wraith shoved him into the pile of horse manure, smearing him in there for good measure, before letting go. For a moment, the prince was completely still. Then he slowly dug himself out, gibbering and whimpering. Everyone, from the Lord of the Legion, to the soldiers, to the lowliest servant, laughed. Even Augum cracked a grin.

Sydo stood up, slopping with manure, lip quivering.

“I think His Highness needs a bath,” Robin said, much to the amusement of the crowd.

Sydo took a squishy step toward Robin.

“Oh no, here comes the sewage monster—” Robin called as the crowd roared with laughter. “Everybody run !”

“I … I will kill you!” Sydo shouted in a shrill voice, running at Robin.

Robin snorted before firmly shoving at the air.”Baka!” Sydo was sent flying—right back into the manure pile.

As soldiers doubled over with laughter, Sydo gurgled something.

Robin made a show of placing a hand to his ear. “What’s that, Your Royal Highness? Not quite the royal feast you’re used to?”

“Uhhnnnghh …” Sydo stood up, hands shaking, looking around as if lost. “M-m-m-m—” but he couldn’t stop stuttering. “M-m-m-m—” Finally, the crowd in hysterics, he tottered off. “M-m-m-m …”

Augum watched the prince slink away, almost feeling sorry for him. If only the Karma spell had worked on him, maybe that wouldn’t have happened.

“It seems our humble prince is not as adept with the wraith as I had hoped,” Sparkstone said with a note of amused disdain. When the laughter died down, he turned back to Augum, raising a golden-gloved finger. “Now as I was saying, interest is a gateway. Necromancy is a fascinating element, far more challenging than I had ever imagined—more so than the lightning element even, if you could believe it. There are … subtleties involved that I cannot explain. And the rewards …” He shook his head and paced closer, hands travelling behind his back, helmed chin rising, revealing a black leather strap. “The rewards are greater than you could ever imagine. I know what you’re thinking, Son, I know it because you are my flesh and blood. You’re thinking, ‘How did such an ordinary man accomplish so much?’ ”

Augum gave a half-shrug, playing along.

Sparkstone swept the grounds with crackling eyes. “You see, I believe a father should be honest with his son. Perhaps I’m not the smartest man. Nor am I the most cunning like, say, Commander Tridian. I’m not the most garrulous, as Rotus, as wise as Corrigus, nor as eloquent as Narsus was. I’m not even the best mentor, like my dear grandmother.” He smiled. “But perhaps no one is as talented a mentor as she.”

He stopped, focusing on the burning blades of the Red Guard, who watched him with steadfast gazes. “You know what separates me from the common man? Ambition. That’s it. Simple, pure, ambition—but it is the greatest ambition known, and I shall change the face of the world with it. Woe to those that stand in my way.”

The Lord of the Legion stared at the horizon, the flames reflecting off his golden armor, until Corrigus strode forth.

“My liege, the arcane defenses are in place, though I cannot make any guarantees of their strength in relation to—”

“—yes, yes,” Sparkstone said. “I understand perfectly. Even you, my most powerful warlock, fear her.”

“It would be unwise to underestimate your old mentor, Great One.”

“Agreed.” Sparkstone glanced up at swiftly moving coal-gray clouds, as if expecting her to come from the sky.

Augum absolutely loathed to admit it, but some distant iota of his heart felt something for his father. He wondered what life would have been like if his father had never dabbled in necromancy—would his mother still be alive, the family together? Would they be visiting Nana, sharing tales around the fire?

“Why?” he asked, staring at his father.

Sparkstone’s brows rose behind his helm. “Why what?”

“Why did you kill her? Why did you murder my mother?”

Canes stiffened, but Corrigus remained impassive, while a quiet grin spread across Robin’s face, perhaps thinking Augum was finally going to get his comeuppance.

Sparkstone observed Augum with electric eyes before striding forth and delivering a back-handed smack with his mailed hand.

Augum fell to the ground, cheek smarting, eyes watering.

Sparkstone stood over him a moment, adjusting his gauntlets, before pacing away.

Robin’s face lit up as Canes dragged Augum to his feet.

“Corrigus—your counsel,” Sparkstone said.

Corrigus cleared his throat, black eyes watching Augum with no hint of emotion. “My liege, all precautions have been taken, but we must remain vigilant. The crone is unlikely to attack us head-on. Instead, I would expect her to probe our defenses. She may not be alone, so we must be wary of separation. In the end, your greatest weapon will be the child.”

“I should have spent more time practicing with the scions,” Sparkstone muttered. “I still feel these cursed things withholding their secrets from me, Corrigus. Yet another damned inconvenience. I am a relative babe when it comes to the use of these ancient artifacts, whereas she has had a lifetime of practice. Curse her stubbornness, her refusal to give me what is rightfully mine—I should have been trained in the scion’s use as a child!”

Corrigus’ black gaze fell upon the three hovering scions, vibrating with energy. He said nothing.

His father was very impatient, Augum noted, trying not to touch his stinging cheek.

Time passed slowly as the camp stood waiting. Soldiers’ necks craned at every sound from the Tallows. He hoped Nana struck before Axon Company arrived with their two hundred men and 17th degree fire warlock. Just to try something different, he closed his eyes, feigning tiredness, and, using the pearl, glanced through the Orb of Orion into the Lieutenant’s tent.

What he saw surprised him. Three black-armored guards, one of which was Justinius, guarded Bridget, Leera, Mya, Haylee, and Ms. Jenkins. Ms. Jenkins lay on one bed attended by Mya. Haylee and Bridget sat on the other with their rucksack. Leera stood in between, staring imploringly at the Orb of Orion as if searching for any sign of Augum.

Since the guards weren’t paying much attention to him, he tried making the orb wink, remembering how Erika spooked them by suddenly revealing her eye. Leera’s face immediately lit up. It had worked. She promptly nudged Bridget, who in turn nudged Haylee. All three flashed him a hopeful smile before he withdrew to avoid attracting suspicion.

He felt some satisfaction knowing he had at least bolstered their spirits, and, having seen they were all right, his own as well.

Yet they still didn’t know the witch had stripped him of his arcane powers …

He sighed, setting himself the task of trying to locate where exactly the lieutenant’s tent was. When the man appeared, he followed him with his eyes until the lieutenant entered a tent on the other side of the watchtower. He confirmed the location with a quick peek through the orb.

More time passed. The pudgy Canes had long dumped Augum to the frozen muddy ground, having tired of holding him. Sparkstone paced continuously, occasionally barking a command, while Corrigus merely observed. Soldiers patrolled the camp carrying torches, hands resting on their weapons, eyes constantly watching the horizon. Robin practiced giving the wraith commands while everyone stayed clear.

Augum, meanwhile, bundled his robes close and waited for the arrival of his great-grandmother.

Legend

The more time passed, the quicker Sparkstone paced. His electric eyes roved from the horizon to the trees to the tents and back again. Suddenly he stopped, fixated on the trees.

Canes followed his gaze. “Sire? Is there something—” but he was cut off by a distant rumbling.

The hair on Augum’s neck rose as soldiers shouted from outside the camp. Men scurried about, frantically gesturing to each other, preparing for the inevitable attack. The rumbling grew louder.

A Black Guardsman exploded out from the tree line in a plume of snow, waving his arms. “Axon Company approaches!”

The call echoed around camp. Soon soldiers were cheering and congratulating each other as countless horses began crashing through the trees. As the horsemen lined up, one rider cantered forth.

“My benevolent, gracious, and most honorable liege!” said a burly man with an ale gut, dismounting. He wore ornate black leather armor under a brilliant red cloak. His face was as red as his beard, and on his great head rested a thorny steel helm. The man tottered over to Sparkstone and bent a knee before him. “My eternal allegiance, Lord Sparkstone. Axon Company reporting with two hundred and seventeen men at your disposal.”

“Commander Rotus Magnavilius!” Sparkstone said. “Rise, my weary friend. Good of you to join us, I am sure you’ve heard of the expected attack by the crone—?”

“I have indeed, my liege—your speaking orbs are quite useful.” Commander Magnavilius nodded quickly to Canes and Corrigus. Only Canes responded in kind.

“Still sore about that duel, eh, Corrigus?”

One of Corrigus’ brows rose. “Your use of Immunity was … interesting.”

“All in good fun, old man, all in good fun.” Magnavilius glanced around the camp. “Glad I’m not too late for the fight.” He turned to a soldier that trailed him. “Lieutenant—merge the men with the patrol squads. I want all hands armed and ready.”

“As you wish, Commander,” his lieutenant replied, turning his horse to call out commands.

Magnavilius stepped by Augum as if he didn’t exist at all, almost crushing his fingers in the process. “Well, I hope you’ve all been practicing,” he bellowed, laughing at his own joke. Others laughed when Sparkstone joined in. Magnavilius clapped Corrigus on the shoulder. “Nothing like a good arcane battle, eh, old chum?”

Corrigus only frowned.

“And who is this now—?” Magnavilius asked, turning beady eyes on Augum, who sat in the muddy snow between the warlocks. “A necrophyte under punishment? Why the old rags then?”

Sparkstone raised his chin. “This is my son.”

“Your son? This is Augum Stone?” Magnavilius’ red brows trolled up his forehead and he let loose a great steaming laugh. “Do you know that I had you on my lap when you were a wee tot? Sire! What great news to have you reunited with your boy—”

Sparkstone nodded, though there was no emotion in his voice. “Yes, it’s quite the occasion.”

“My word, I have a lot to catch up on, don’t I, Lividius?”

“We shall toast after our victory. Right now, I could use some honest counsel.”

Magnavilius gave a grunt as his eyes searched the horizon. “It’s late. Is she waiting us out?”

“That’s not her style. She can’t stop teaching. She’ll probably wander in here lecturing us all on our vagrant ways.”

The soldiers chortled until a bright flash of light cut short their clucking, followed immediately by a thwacking explosion just to the south of them. The light flared around the camp, making visible an enormous arcane protective dome. It vibrated like a bell before disappearing into invisibility once again.

There were cries of alarm from all corners of the compound as soldiers ducked, before realizing it was safe to stand.

Magnavilius snorted a laugh. “You can stand now, Commander Canes.” He flexed his arm and seventeen fiery rings erupted around it.

Canes didn’t bother brushing the muddy snow off his haunches. “What was that—?”

“She tripped my outer defense,” Corrigus said, his own arm coiling with nineteen rings of ivy.

“At last the wait is over,” Sparkstone said quietly, arm raging to life with twenty electric bands shining brightest of all. The three scions began rotating around his plumed helm like a protective halo.

“Is she invisible?” Canes asked, head swiveling about.

Corrigus’ brows furrowed together. “She may have doppelganged.”

“Why would she bother?” Magnavilius asked.

“She could be ghosting,” Sparkstone muttered.

Augum saw an opportunity to cause dissention. “Nana learned some really powerful new spells in Ley, you know,” he lied, “and she knows plenty off-the-books spells too. She’s also going to—”

“—I’m not as adept at detecting lies as Commander Tridian,” Sparkstone replied, lightning eyes sweeping the outskirts of the camp, “but I know when my own son is lying.”

“You don’t know me, and she’s not afraid of any of you at all, not even of the whole camp together—”

Magnavilius smacked the back of Augum’s head with his hand. “You try your father’s patience at the most inopportune time, boy!”

Augum scowled at the big red-haired man, wishing he could cast Centarro just to use his tongue as a weapon against them. Oh, how he will miss that beautiful spell.

The night sky rumbled and necks immediately craned skyward.

“That thunder sounds peculiar,” Canes said.

Sparkstone watched unfazed. “It is her.”

The clouds seemed to darken and lower, moving ever swifter in a gargantuan silent whirlpool around the camp. Suddenly, the entire spiral lit up with internal lightning, the accompanying crack rumbling Augum’s bones like a drum. Horses neighed and whickered. The soldiers stirred uneasily, some edging nearer to tents.

“Steady now—!” Magnavilius shouted to his men.

Canes paled. “What good are common soldiers against a master warlock?” he muttered, though no one but Augum seemed to hear him.

And then it happened—the sky ruptured with wide bolts of lightning that struck the dome repeatedly in the same spot. Strike after raging strike lit up the shell, sending great ripples across its surface. The sound alone was like standing under a village-sized gong struck by a giant hammer. Soldiers ducked under tables and behind tents. Horses reared up, throwing their riders off.

“It’s weakening—!” Canes shouted, dropping to his knees and holding up his hands in a defensive pose, like many of the soldiers.

Sparkstone, Magnavilius and Corrigus remained standing, watching the pummeling with a fixed curiosity. Robin took shelter under the wraith, which stared upwards at the storm as if entranced, its vacant eyes almost mournful. The Red Guard merely stood quiet near their master.