Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (64 page)

The lightning slowed and finally fizzled, leaving the dome riddled with giant gaping wounds.

“It seems it has withstood the onslaught,” Corrigus said, gray brows rising up his forehead.

For a moment, there was only silence, punctuated by the sound of a horse whinny.

“There!” Shouted a soldier. “The horizon—!”

Heads turned to the distant east where a tornado made from pure lightning swirled to life, so bright it lit up the Tallows for leagues. It stood in place, growing larger in size, before rushing forth in a crackling rage that tore up everything in its path. Thunder pulsed from it in a steady low roar that shook the ground. Soldiers began backing away, fear written across their faces.

“The dome will absorb it!” Corrigus shouted, holding up his hands. He shouted something else but his voice drowned in the rumbling.

The lightning tornado was upon them, howling and screeching and grinding at the dome. The shell cracked. Giant glass-like chunks began falling. A tent collapsed underneath one nearby. The chunk promptly disappeared, leaving carnage in its wake.

Almost everyone sought shelter, except for the warlocks. Magnavilius cast a red sphere around himself, Corrigus a shimmering armor, while Sparkstone merely stood there, flanked by the Red Guard.

Augum scrambled under a nearby trough that had fallen over, while the tornado settled directly above, allowing a vertigo-inducing glimpse up its cavity—a vast, murderous, rotating tower shining brighter than the sunniest day. Even he hoped the dome would hold, otherwise he’d be sucked up into that maelstrom along with everything else.

He stole a glance at his father. Sweat prickled the Lord of the Legion’s face. The plume on his helmet whipped about in the wind. His golden form stood rock still.

“It’s failing!” Corrigus mouthed, voice lost to the grinding din, hands waving for everyone to take cover.

The dome suddenly ruptured with a mighty cacophony and dissolved. The winds rapidly increased—tents flapped like laundry in a gale; barrels rolled and splintered; cookware, cots, dressers and chests lifted into the spiral, later destroyed by lightning tentacles snapping from within the vortex.

Soldiers hung on to what they could, a few already flying upward. The ones that remained stared up in horror as their colleagues vaporized.

Augum curled into a ball, hoping death would be quick. The true might of his great-grandmother was on full display, and it made his very bones tremble.

Suddenly the noise and light disappeared, leaving a ringing silence, except for the smash of objects falling back to earth, some of which were bodies.

“The dome is no more,” Corrigus said, panting. He flexed his arm and it flared back to life with ivy rings. Magnavilius also rekindled his. Only Sparkstone’s arm had not extinguished during the onslaught.

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” Anna Atticus Stone said in a booming voice that seemed to come from everywhere. Heads swiveled, seeking the source, but only the warlocks knew that was a fruitless endeavor, and stared into the black horizon of the Tallows.

Augum’s breathing quickened. Somewhere out there in that dense night stood his great-grandmother … and she wasn’t here to play games.

“My arrogance?” Sparkstone’s voice was equally loud, rumbling across the plains. The non-arcane near him startled from the sudden outburst. “You stole the scion from me. You stole my own son. You lead the resistance against me. And you dare call
me
arrogant? I want that scion. No more lessons, grandmother. Now we battle.”

Lightning flared up distantly, too far for the boom to reach the camp.

Mrs. Stone’s voice wheezed a sigh, a low hum seeming to fly across eons of time. “Let it be so.” The distant lightning raged closer and closer, the many strikes coalescing, finally forming a massive lightning creature with arms and legs like giant tree trunks. It flexed, roared electrically, and charged.

“Lightning elemental!” Corrigus yelled.

“Warlocks, cast your beasts!” Sparkstone called.

Augum watched as Corrigus, Magnavilius and his father cast their own elementals a ways forward of the camp. Their words were long and complex, as were their gestures, but when they finished, it appeared the Tallows had become a massive arena.

Corrigus’ elemental was made of earth and rock, ripping up the ground with every step and sending rubble flying. Magnavilius’ was made from pure fire, immolating the snow-covered grass. His father’s was made of lightning, smaller than Mrs. Stone’s, but not by much.

As everyone began cheering for the Legion elementals, Augum noticed his friends for the first time—they stood tied together outside of their tent, Justinius and the guards apparently wanting to keep abreast of what was happening. Only Ms. Jenkins was absent.

The elementals came at each other with tectonic ferocity, each punch and kick rumbling across the plains. Augum stole a glance at the warlocks, who concentrated as if fighting with their mind. It was not long before Mrs. Stone’s snuffed Magnavilius’ with a great uppercut, sending a stream of curses out of the man’s mouth.

Corrigus used the opportunity to flank Mrs. Stone’s elemental. He raised his arms to strike, his elemental mimicking his action. Augum saw his chance and dove at the man’s waist, knocking him to the ground. Magnavilius immediately yanked him away, but the damage was done—Corrigus’ earth elemental hesitated long enough to take a leap kick in the stomach. It collapsed in a heap of rubble.

Corrigus’ face twisted with rage. His hand shot out, blasting the ground at Augum’s scurrying feet with some kind of hissing venom.

It was merely a warning …

Luckily, his father did not notice what Augum had done.

A monstrous smack brought everyone’s attention back to the battle. The mood amongst the camp grew tense as Augum pumped his fist, quietly rooting for his great-grandmother. But it wasn’t to be—Mrs. Stone’s elemental had taken too many hits, finally exploding in a shower of sparks that set the nearby grass on fire.

The camp erupted in cheers. Sparkstone threw up a fist in acknowledgement, turned to his audience and, with a big twirling flourish of his arm, exploded his elemental in celebration. Soldiers cheered even more, raising their weapons in salute of their leader.

Meanwhile, lightning continued in the plains, still too distant to hear. It wasn’t long until everyone was looking ahead, waiting for the next assault.

And then they saw her—she stepped up onto the mound of earth left behind by Corrigus’ earth elemental. Framed from behind by the lightning and below by the remnants of the grass fire, Anna Atticus Stone appeared a pathetic figure, a trifle compared to the size of the elementals that fought moments before.

Augum squinted—it appeared she held a new staff and wore a pristine white robe. He would have given anything to have Mr. Goss’ spyglass just then.

Magnavilius raised his arm. “Lord Sparkstone—the men are anxious to attack!”

The soldiers threw up a roar.

“My liege—I urge caution,” Corrigus said. “Allow me council to—” but the Lord of the Legion held up a hand, staying the old man.

“Commander Magnavilius, Commander Canes—take half of your men and SHOW THE CRONE THE MIGHT OF MY LEGION!” Sparkstone roared the last words arcanely, the sound rolling across the Tallows, shaking the tents.

Every man in the camp threw up a resounding cry, weapons clanging against shields or armor.

Magnavilius and Canes shouted commands. The men mounted their horses and formed into ranks—Canes and his men on one side, Magnavilius and his men on the other.

The two commanders looked back at their master and saluted with outstretched arms. “Hail to the Lord of the Legion! Glory to us all!”

“Hail!”

Sparkstone nodded proudly. The two commanders took this as a sign to attack. The ground rumbled from hooves as soldier after soldier urged his horse into a canter. The soldiers that remained cheered on their comrades. Halfway there, the swarm sprang into a gallop, and finally a sprint.

“And so I watch my brave Legionnaires ride to their extinction,” Sparkstone said in a solemn voice, hands behind his back. He shared a look with Augum, and it was then Augum realized no one else had heard but him. His father’s face, although partially hidden behind his golden helm, was proud and defiant.

He turned to his men. “Watch as your fellow men fight for the good glory of the Legion! Watch as they give their lives this day, so that one day, you may live eternal!” He screamed now, gesturing grandly. “Heroes! Every last one of them, heroes! I so name this battle, the Battle at Hangman’s Rock!”

The men threw up cheer after cheer, a crowd of frothing wolves eager for meat.

Augum suddenly understood what his father was doing—he was creating
martyrs.
He remembered something Sir Westwood had once said— “Behold the martyr, for he lives forever.” Even if his father should lose this day, he’d use it to his advantage in the future. Even calling it the Battle at Hangman’s Rock served a purpose.

For the first time, he thought he understood one of the driving forces behind the Legion. It wasn’t just for eternal life—it was also for
glory
.

Two spyglasses were rushed to Corrigus and Sparkstone. Corrigus began to relay aloud what they were seeing in a flat voice.

“She is making no moves yet. Front ranks nearing.”

There were numerous quick flashes.

“First rank triggered a lightning trap—four gone. Now seven frozen in place—some kind of chain paralysis. Make that a dozen. Unknown number fallen off their horses, screaming—I suspect Fear. A few more are wandering off. That would be Confusion—”

The soldiers quieted down, paying close attention to each dispatch while staring at the distant light show. Rumblings and explosions echoed.

“Magnavilius casts darkness—”

Augum saw the mound disappear into the night.

“She evaded. Magnavilius casts fireball—Teleport Evasion. Counter attack. Mass disarm—”

Numerous weapons tumbled through the air, backlit by fire.

“Hold on … looks like … some of ours are attacking each other. Could be mastery level Possession.”

Sparkstone and Corrigus exchanged brief glances before resuming their watch.

“Sleep against … looks like ten or so,” Corrigus continued. “Magnavilius casts Rain of Fire—her Mystic Armor withstood. Paralyze Group against our own—another seven down, though could be more.”

Suddenly there was a rumbling explosion followed by multiple quick bursts of light.

“Simulcast!”

There were audible gasps from the watching soldiers. “That’s impossible,” someone said.

“It was Forked Lightning and Mass Frenzy—” Corrigus said.

“That one’s off-the-books,” Sparkstone muttered.

The soldiers behind them fell completely silent. No one could tear their eyes away.

“She has sped up her movements greatly now,” Corrigus went on. “Must be Slow Time.”

A tremendous flash of light.

“She just Teleported ten from the field—” There was a hint of surprise in Corrigus’ voice.

Augum, despite his frayed nerves, couldn’t help wondering where those soldiers went.

“Triple Doppelganger—the troops don’t know which one to attack. Lightning strike. And again. And yet again. Three down. Speared lightning—” Corrigus shook his head. “Unknown casualties.”

Sparkstone adjusted his stance as Corrigus continued.

“Magnavilius’ arcane armor has failed. He appears injured. Canes is rallying the troops around the mound. They are having a hard time getting close enough to use their weapons. Magnavilius casts Firebolt—blocked with Shield. Meteor—Teleport Evasion. Blaze—out of range. Lava river—Teleport Evasion
again
.” His head shook continually now. “Her endurance … Magnavilius is losing arcane stamina. Curtain of Fire—immune, probably from Sphere of Protection …”

The Tallows were a flurry of fire and lightning now.

“Multiple flashes—many blinded. Thunderclap—several stunned. Chain Lightning! Twenty more gone—”

Low gasps from the crowd of soldiers.

“Magnavilius casts Fire Army. She countered with Wall of Lightning. Wait, he has successfully used Push, she’s knocked down—!”

Augum’s heart leapt to his throat as a cheer went up from the soldiers, but Corrigus raised a hand, silencing them.

“Troops trying to get near—they have fallen through the ground! Unbelievable … must be an extension of Combat Portal at the master level. She’s moving! Now casting Ball Lightning—seven plowed down. Explosive Lightning—four down. Canes has been levitated with Telekinesis … struck by Flame Lightning … he is on fire and now thrown against his own troops—two more down.”

Augum stole a quick glance at his father—his jaw was tightly clenched.

“She seems to be leaving Magnavilius for last. Remaining soldiers fleeing into the darkness. She’s letting them go. Magnavilius standing before her now. He’s bleeding. They seem to be just staring at each other …”

A final flash of light.

Corrigus slowly lowered his spyglass. The camp went completely silent.

Augum stared at the distant scene. Thick smoke blew around pockets of fire. Horses meandered or lingered by their fallen riders. A lone figure stood silhouetted against the flames on the mound.

Sparkstone nodded slowly and turned to the soldiers, whose faces were pale as death. “On this day, good, proud, loyal men were sent into the hands of the Unnameables. We mark them as heroes to be remembered for their sacrifice. Commander Dollard Canes. Commander Rotus Magnavilius. Your many fallen comrades. Remember them well, for they shall live on in your hearts and in the eternal glory of the Battle at Hangman’s Rock. Hail!”

The soldiers solemnly raised their weapons. “Hail!”

“Glory to the Legion!”

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

“I shall spare the rest,” Mrs. Stone’s voice boomed, breathing hard. “If you face me alone, Lividius.”

Sparkstone turned back to the Tallows, lightning eyes focusing on the tiny figure on the mound. “How about we trade—the scion in exchange for your great-grandson’s friends.” He hauled Augum up by the scruff. “Son, it is time for you to fulfill your promise. Your voice shall become arcanely loud. Speak the words of sense that will change her iron mind.” He touched Augum’s throat with a glowing palm. “This is your moment, Son. If you cannot do it for me, do it for your friends. Their lives rest in your hands.”