Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (8 page)

She turned to look at him. He smiled before moving on to touch each of them in turn, until they were all watching him. “Let us focus together. Examine yourselves outside of your thoughts, in this moment, and nothing more. You have succumbed to the Song of the Wastes. Do not listen to it. Instead, listen to my voice as we walk.”

He extended a bronze hand to Augum and helped him to his feet. What Augum saw in those night-black eyes was nothing short of pure compassion.

“Walk with me, as we pass through the winds.” His pants fluttered ceaselessly.

Even Oba followed. When the big warrior came upon Sydo’s body, he put away his blade and picked him up.

“We walk knowing dark thoughts plead for our attention,” Thomas continued, a shepherd herding sheep, “knowing that we mean ourselves no harm. We walk with calm spirits, the winds of anxiety doing us no injury …” His voice was melodic, piercing the wind and the darkness. “… knowing each step brings us closer to our destination, conscious of the eternal moment in which we dwell …”

Something was near, a series of stones.

“… we move unhindered by our emotions, unfazed by our fears, and unafraid of the great unknown …”

The wind faded to a dull background roar. Augum rubbed his eyes. They seemed to have walked into a calm spot in the middle of the orange desert. What he mistook for a series of stones was in fact nine Leyans, each one different in clothing and skin color. Four were men, five women. All were hairless, metallic-skinned, gray-eyed instead of black, and wrinkled as if having spent years soaking in water.

Oba Sassone lowered the prince to the ground. When Augum spotted the large burn mark on his doublet, his heart skipped a beat. Neither Bridget, Leera, Mya, nor his great-grandmother would meet his eyes. What had he done? Was the prince … he dare not finish the thought.

Thomas bowed to the nine millennials. “Wise elders—greetings. If I may begin by asking for the healing of this boy.”

“Ancient vow Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone break,” an old woman wearing deer hide said. She had a wild accent, her skin was the color of wood, and antlers sprouted from her head. “Life for uninvited childling mortal Thomas Stone now asks. Elders—life do we give this boy?” She turned to the others, each of them quietly returning her gaze, as if speaking in thoughts. She nodded, shuffled to the stricken prince, and held out a withered hand that began glowing. Augum watched the wound shrink until disappearing altogether. The glow faded away and her hand withdrew, only to make a final quick gesture. Sydo jolted to life, coughing and gasping for air, hair frazzled.

Augum quickly stepped forward and offered a hand. “I … I’m so sorry …” he managed to say. He felt terrible, like one of the bullies he thought he had smote.

Sydo refused his hand and stood up on his own, an obstinate look on his face, eyes narrow. He said nothing.

“Augum, I’m sorry too,” Leera said as the antlered millennial moved back to the others, her back as crooked as a scythe. “I—I don’t know what I was saying … I don’t know what happened out there …”

“Yes, overcome by song was Oba.” Oba bowed his hairless head. “Forgiveness Oba asks. Much to learn he still has.”

“We all have much to learn, Oba Sassone,” Thomas replied.

Mrs. Stone cleared her throat. “I apologize for my words, Great-grandson. I did not mean what I said. It appears I, too, was overcome by the song.”

Augum gave his great-grandmother a heartfelt look. He wanted to hug her but held back—she wasn’t exactly the hugging type.

“Change has quickened in our land,” an elder Leyan man said with dark citron skin. He wore a tattered ochre shawl painted with leaves and held a simple wooden staff. “We break our Vow of Isolation for mortals entering with a scion. Two kin break this vow to train the mortals, who seek council. We will hold this council on behalf of one Thomas Stone, who shall reap penance.”

Augum’s stomach tightened. What did they mean by “penance”?

Mrs. Stone stepped forward and bowed. “Great elders, forgive our intrusion and our mortal follies. We come by necessity. We come with questions.”

“Speak your piece,” the antlered woman said.

“I am grateful. My first question is of the wastes. Why has the Song become so deadly?”

“Never has one held more than two before,” replied a withered old man in sealskin, bent so far forward he was shorter than Leera. His skin was as white as snow, a bone stuck through his nose, and there was a thick black line tattooed down the middle of his bald head.

“The elder refers to the scions—” Mrs. Stone said.

“That is so.”

“Then Lividius has at least three now.”

Augum exchanged looks with Bridget and Leera. That’s not good.

“Do the scions have power over Ley?” Mrs. Stone continued after a thoughtful pause.

The snow-skinned man looked to his right. “I petition to hear from the oldest among us, one who has not spoken in many a year. Krakatos the Ancient, will you break your silence to speak on the subject at hand?”

All eyes turned to an extremely wrinkled man with dark bronze skin wearing a simple white loincloth. Perched on his bulbous nose were square spectacles with pink lenses. The man stared at Mrs. Stone for so long Augum thought he had chosen to remain silent, until quite suddenly he began speaking in a rapid sharp accent.

“The aforementioned scions are symbiotically linked to Ley, yet we can only scrutinize the observable effects of said link. Apropos, we failed to anticipate the inherent attachment upon forging. Incongruously, we foresaw the seven could fall under the influence of a single mind, and thus took appropriate precautions. You may be under the impression possibilities are as invisible to us as they are inversely visible to the Seers. Let us agree that in this era we Leyans endeavor to occupy the moment and must accept the consequence of an opaque future.

“In addendum, and you will forgive my alliteration, the scions appertain to an epoch prior to the covenant, wherein the dissemination of Leyan sapience was the norm, from which you are the unwitting benefit. As a stalwart weed begets an entire field, so you stand as the latest harvest of countless procreations, yet perhaps only the middling step of a super process in search of the singularity.

“The first concurrent summary is therefore a question—was withdrawal beneficial to the whole? Upon examination, I judge the answer inconclusive, though you must factor my limitations of practicality. The second concurrent summary is a statement you may find vacuous—the link is real, the outcomes and subsurface effects unknown, at least to this base body. I therefore conclude advising skepticism and humbly beg forgiveness for the capricious traipsing of an impertinent mind eternally sizzling under the Leyan sun.”

Guests and Leyans stirred alike. Augum blinked, trying to understand a single phrase. Might as well have been spoken in Nodian though. There was one thing he did understand, however—Krakatos was very old. Maybe even so old that he might have been around when Atrius Arinthian became a Leyan. He might have even known him! The thought made his blood flow a little quicker.

“You have my thanks, Krakatos the Ancient,” Mrs. Stone said at last. “Though I admit it will take me much time to digest your thoughts. Now, my husband, Thomas Stone, suggests the only way to destroy one who yields multiple scions is to let him have them all. Can I assume this is what you meant by ‘precautions’?”

“That is so,” answered an ancient man with almond shaped eyes, not unlike Mya’s. He wore a simple scarlet robe that hid his entire body, except for his bronze colored head.

“I know my grandson. He will butcher half the world in the process of acquiring the scions. Surely there must be another way—”

“There may be, but we are unaware of it.”

“For that you must seek the wisdom of the Seers—” said a pink-skinned woman in a servant’s outfit.

“—past the Northern Peaks—” continued an ivory-skinned woman wearing a queenly gown.

“—in the Kingdom of Ohm,” finished another ancient woman with avocado skin and sunken eyes, wearing a puffy-sleeved wide-skirt dress fringed with elegant ruffles.

“I will think on this. I know he will not stop until his goals have been achieved, and many would die in the mean …”

“The future is as yet unwritten,” said an old woman with pale skin, the only one with milky eyes. Her hair was tangled and black as night. A tattered raven cloak hung loosely around her neck, a triangle with a black dot at the tip of each point emblazoned on the chest. The sharpness of her somehow reminded Augum of the claw at Hangman’s Rock.

“He lusts for the powers of Ley, particularly eternal life,” Mrs. Stone said.

“The eternal can only come to those with peace in their hearts,” the avocado-skinned woman said.

“My grandson has become the Lord of the Legion and the Lord of Dreadnoughts. He seeks Occulus’ old throne as the Lord of Death, and now wishes to become the Lord of Scions as well. Perhaps … perhaps there is a way his heart could be mended.”

Krakatos the Ancient, his gray eyes an echo of time itself, tilted his head ever slightly. “The Lord of Death is by title an elevated evil, his deeds extolled to allegorical proportions. He is not the first, nor will he be the last. On the whole of history, the subsequent idiom can be said to be veritable: those we dread we hesitate to fathom. Yet we can deduce the Lord of Death is mortal, with mortal failings.” His eyes fell upon Augum. “Let the following stand exemplar: I purport he desires the company of his son.”

Augum blinked. No way was he going to join his father, if that’s what Krakatos meant.

On the other hand, what if it would save the world from war?

Mrs. Stone nodded slowly. “Yes … this I know.”

“You are as yet quite young, Anna Stone,” said the scarlet-robed man with almond-shaped eyes. “A long time ago in an age long past, while besieging a castle holding his son hostage, Atylla the Mighty thus spoke: ‘Return me mine son and I shall henceforth unburden thy kingdom of mine wrath and leave thy lands to their woe. Relinquish mine boy and I shall free thy common folk to sow seeds of corn and barley, unchain thy taverns so ale may flow, and free ye daughters and sons of thy flesh, for all such are but trivial wisps of smoke in balance to mine heir.

“ ‘However, should ye durst linger but a day on mine warning, hark! For I shall erelong smite all ye begat with burning blades, carve thy sons and daughters with mine knife, and cut ye to the quick, for I have become the Lord of Death, leveler of castles, executioner of children, and incarnate woe to mine enemies. I have laid waste to every land and slain every creature known, and yet the wretches follow me still, an endless army of the fallen. I beseech thee—heed mine words and return mine flesh, and be the only to walk in peace.’ ”

“
—
I shall not sacrifice my great-grandson!”

The hair on the back of Augum’s neck rose—who said anything about sacrifice?

A silence passed before the man with dark citron skin and tattered shawl spoke up. “So be it, the question has been answered.”

“As Krakatos the Ancient has said,” began the snow-skinned man with the tattooed pate, “your grandson is not the first Lord of Death, nor will he be the last. Many have come before, their stories lost to mortal time. And so thus he travels a path familiar to us, for he is as he is and no other.”

Mrs. Stone closed her eyes and pinched her nose. “Then my decision is to seek counsel from the Seers in the Kingdom of Ohm.” She swept the line of elders with a determined look. “I am grateful for your wisdom.” She bowed and stepped back.

Oba Sassone took her place. “Great Elders, Oba see quick change in Ley, want know what Leyans do.”

Krakatos looked up at fast-moving dark clouds that reflected off his pink lenses. Everyone followed his gaze. “The nebular skies give testament and exhort circumspection. I hereby adduce we seek shelter in Absalon.”

The millennials glanced at each other.

“So be it,” said the avocado-skinned woman.

Oba bowed, as did Thomas and Mrs. Stone. Augum, Bridget, Leera, Sydo and Mya awkwardly did the same.

The antlered woman stepped forward. “Broken the covenant has been. Penance shall be passed.” She reached out a glowing hand and there was a fierce and sudden wind followed by a teleportation jolt.

Departure

Back in the swaying grove, Augum dragged Leera and Bridget aside. “Just imagine … Krakatos might have been around in the time of my ancestor, Atrius Arinthian! Think of the stories he could tell, the questions we could ask him—maybe he even knows how to defeat Sparkstone—!”

“Augum, he’s a
millennial
, and the oldest one at that,” Bridget said. “We can’t just
talk
to him as we please. Anyway, we’ve got more important things to worry about—you need to ask Mrs. Stone what happened to Attyla and his son, maybe the millennials were giving us some kind of warning there.”

“I will. I’ve got a whole bunch of questions for her actually.” What was all that about the Lord of Death, especially the stuff about sacrifice? What does Absalon look like? What did they mean by “penance”? What is the Leyan Vow? And then there was that phrase.
Return me mine son and I shall henceforth unburden thy kingdom of mine wrath
…

Now he just needed an opportunity to ask.

Bridget glanced skyward. “This place feels dangerous now, like it’s going to collapse in on us any moment. I hope we leave soon.”

“Yeah, but I want to explore Absalon,” Leera said, “so we can’t leave
too
soon.” Her eyes drifted past Augum. “Though we might not have a choice. Look—I think they’re up to something.”

Augum turned to see Mrs. Stone quietly conversing with Oba and Thomas. “Wonder if it has anything to do with that penance thing.”

“I have a bad feeling about that,” Bridget said.

Augum began to chew his nail. “Me too …”

“He’s still angry with you,” Leera said, nodding at the prince, who sat beside Mya at the table.

Augum glanced at Sydo, whose eyes narrowed upon spotting him. “Think I should apologize again?”

Leera shrugged. “Will it do any good?”

“Of course it will,” Bridget said.