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

“Are … are you all right, Your Highness?” Bridget asked, panting.

Augum felt his temper rise—Sydo had just said her parents
deserved
to die and she was calling him
Your Highness
?

The prince coughed, rubbing his neck, face a patchwork of loathing. He slowly turned his gaze to Bridget. “How could you let her maul me? You believe yourself worthy of
my
company? You are a miserable, unbecoming—do not presume to touch me—!”

Bridget recoiled as if bitten, eyes immediately tearing up.

For a moment, there was only the sound of robes flapping in the wind, until Sydo gave Augum a disgusted look.

“What are
you
looking at?” Augum asked, fighting the urge to punch the snotling in his face.

Suddenly Bridget turned back to them, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Fine!
Great!
Just kill each other, see if I care!” She fell to her knees, weeping into her hands. “I can’t do this anymore …”

Augum watched his friend heave with sobs and felt his heart tighten. What was happening to them? Why were they so angry, so emotional? “I’m … I’m sorry, I don’t know what—”

“—my mother told me about this place,” Mya said, voice almost lost to the wind, hair flailing like a tangle of snakes.

Everyone froze. It was the most she had spoken in days.

“We shall claw each other’s eyes out then lie down and starve to death.”

Bridget took Mya’s porcelain hands in her own. “Can you tell us more?”

Mya wiped a tear from Bridget’s face, and looked off into the distance.

“You need not bother with her,” Sydo said, waving dismissively. “She is as useless as a mule without legs.”

Augum’s fists instantly curled, but Bridget noticed and lunged in between, holding his gaze, the compassion in her eyes disarming his anger.

“Just let that fiend finish the job already! After all, it runs in the
family—
”

Bridget’s head whipped around. “What’s the matter with you! Have you no sense of decency? Have you turned into an
animal
?”

Sydo’s gaze faltered under Bridget’s glare.

“What if Mya’s right?” Leera asked. “I mean, what if we keep walking until we’re driven mad? What if we don’t find the Leyans in time? Or what if they’re all dead, or even worse, only myth, and this whole place is nothing but stupid, endless desert—”

“Control yourself,” Bridget said. “We’ll be fine. We have Mrs. Stone.”

Sydo made a sound like air flapping through loose bellows. “Oh, yes, and what great good that has done us here. Do you truly believe we can continue this death march on berries and leaves and so little water? We should be dead in a day if this continues—”

“—will you just stop it, you’re not helping.” Bridget’s voice shook. “We’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Augum glanced at their tracks, concerned Mya might be right. He watched the wind slowly eat away at them. By the morning, they’ll have disappeared.

Bridget wiped her sandy face with her sleeve and drew her robes tighter. “Please, let’s all just get some sleep. Who knows when Mrs. Stone will return.”

Augum tightened his hood to keep the sand from stinging his face and tried to catch some sleep. But his dark thoughts just wouldn’t let him. Everything that ever went wrong in his life paraded across his mind in a never-ending cavalcade of torment—the first time his foster parents beat him; Dap’s fist connecting with his face; being chased by a gaggle of boys in Willowbrook; watching the village burn from the safety of the Tallows while he anxiously curled the yellow grass around his fingers …

Thomas

The day steadily dimmed as the clouds picked up their pace. The wind blew at a cold roar, stinging any exposed flesh and forcing them to huddle together. Nobody seemed to catch a wink of sleep. Prince Sydo’s teeth chattered as he sat in the middle of the group, a spot that afforded the most shelter. Lamenting the lack of blankets, Augum shivered in the front, taking the brunt of the wind.

As night descended, Augum felt as if he was trying to think through a fog. He stopped caring about his painfully cracked hands, his aching feet, the gnawing hollowness in his stomach, whether or not Mrs. Stone would return. He even forgot about all the terrible memories of his past. When he sat up, squinting at the palest of lines on the horizon, he let his hood fall away from his face, exposing it to the raking wind. The sting was numbing, yet he did nothing to correct it. He glanced skyward with the expression of a dull child, marveling at the moving masses of black cloud that seemed within reaching distance.

Glancing to his right, he was strangely unsurprised to see Bridget’s silhouette standing apart from the group. She faced the wind, hair streaming behind her, robe flapping violently. She took a step into the wind, stopped, took another step, and stopped again, repeating this motion, slowly walking further and further away.

He observed with neither fascination nor fear, only the subtlest feeling that something wasn’t right. He watched until Bridget’s form disappeared into the night, and when she was completely gone, he kept his eyes on the blackness still.

Suddenly there was a loud THWOMP. The area flooded with the light from a hovering pumpkin-sized sphere of lightning. It brought Mrs. Stone’s creased face into sharp relief, gnarled stick gripped tight in her hands, a sack slung over her shoulder. Augum, usually impressed by her ability to cast the 1st degree Shine spell in a different form, found himself observing with nothing short of banal apathy.

Her eyes took quick account of them. “Where is Bridget?”

No one stirred. Augum struggled to understand what she wanted. He knew the words, just not their significance. His head turned to the darkness where he last saw a familiar form. Mrs. Stone’s eyes followed his gaze. She immediately strode off in that direction, the globe of light trailing. He watched it weave about, shrinking down to the size of a firefly. The motion was oddly calming, the peace of it a soothing, mesmerizing balm.

He awoke on the ground, unaware of having even fallen asleep.

Mrs. Stone stood near, holding a shivering Bridget by the elbow. “I daresay you have been gripped by the song, girl. Sit.”

Bridget, pale and shivering, did not respond. Mrs. Stone’s lips pressed together and she gently pushed her into a sitting position beside Augum. Then she unslung her sack, withdrawing vaguely familiar fruits, vegetables, and a skin of water. No one reached out for them or even so much as blinked.

“I see. It is as I feared.” She removed something from her robes and soon a smaller globe was floating alongside the larger, this one flashing with silent lightning. Augum began to feel better. Meanwhile, Mrs. Stone placed what looked like purple pears into their listless hands.

Augum glanced up at his great-grandmother. She made a motion akin to eating. He stared at the strange fruit before biting into it. Mrs. Stone nodded and moved on to the others. Augum felt better still as he ate, though his thoughts remained as murky as the sky.

When they had all finished eating and drinking, Mrs. Stone sat amongst them, the two mismatching globes floating lazily around her, unhampered by the wind. Augum struggled with his thoughts until finally, in what must have been the thick of night, he felt himself conscious enough to ask a question.

“Nana, what … what happened?”

Mrs. Stone, who seemed to have been dozing, startled awake. “Hmm? Ah, yes … I fear I am to blame—I was gone too long and, without the protective influence of the scion, you succumbed to the Song of the Wastes.”

“The Song …?”

“An ancient enchantment meant to turn invading armies against each other, implemented in the time of Occulus. The effect seems to have become rather strong, however, and the weather—well, last I visited, let us say it was quite peaceful.”

“You’ve been here before, Mrs. Stone—?” Bridget asked in a groggy tone.

Mrs. Stone sighed. “Yes, a long time ago. But enough of that. Is everyone feeling well enough to walk?” They gave unsure nods. ”Good. Let us go on then. We shall rest soon enough.”

One by one they stood, readying to depart—except for Mya, who gaped into the darkness with half-closed eyes.

Mrs. Stone shuffled over to her and waved a hand before her face. “Bridget, Augum—drag her if you must. I want everyone to walk alongside me and watch each other. No one is to drift off on their own, am I understood?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said, grabbing one of Mya’s hands. Augum grabbed the other, distinctly conscious of wrapping his fingers around hers. If this moment were to be his last, he would not mind in the least. He looked up at her, trying to draw her back to them with a look of empathy, willing her to understand how much he cared about her … but she did not meet his eyes, dazedly letting herself be guided along.

Augum caught an annoyed look from Leera. Was he walking too slowly again? He quickened his pace a little.

Mrs. Stone held stride, keeping a close eye, globe lighting the way. After what felt like hours of ambling, she abruptly stopped, peering ahead into the darkness. At the edge of her light stood a hairless man dressed in nothing but sandals and baggy black pants that rippled violently in the wind. He possessed a square jaw, bald head, and a bronze muscle-sculpted upper body. His eyes were what captured Augum’s attention though—solid black, blacker than coal, blacker than the night. Unnameable gods, they had run across a demon and he was going to—

“I think it’s a Leyan,” Bridget whispered.

Mrs. Stone took a step forward. “Thomas.”

“Anna,” the man replied in a deep voice that cut through the wind. “You have returned.”

“For the time being.”

“You have aged, my wife.”

Everyone but Mya exchanged looks. Augum felt goosebumps rise on his skin. His great-grandfather was a Leyan! But how could this be? The man looked nothing more than thirty years of age!

“The teachings can still reverse the course of time on the flesh, Anna,” Thomas continued. “You have not accepted the invitation as of yet.”

“My duties to the mortal world bind me there. Forgive me, but I must condemn you to this loneliness still.”

“I have the company of the sand, the wind, the clouds.”

Mrs. Stone stared at him a moment before giving a pained smile. “You still return to the same spot.”

“It is as good as any other.”

“It took some time to find it again. My memory is not as it once was.”

Augum looked around. There was nothing to distinguish this place from any other.

“All things pass,” Thomas said.

“So they do indeed …”

Thomas’ unblinking ebony eyes seemed to focus on the hovering scion. It flickered with silent lightning, emitting that quiet hum.

“Yes, I still have it.” Mrs. Stone hid it within her robes. The hum immediately died.

Watching it disappear, Augum suddenly felt himself grow very tired, as if all the hours of sleeplessness had finally taken their toll. He really wanted to lie down.

“This is your great-grandson, Augum Stone.”

Augum stared at his strange great-grandfather. His grip on Mya’s hand tightened.

Thomas only stood there, letting the wind flow over his body like water over rock, his face expressionless. “My great-grandson.”

A windy silence passed before Mrs. Stone spoke again. “I bring grave tidings from Solia. Our grandson, Lividius, has become the Lord of the Legion. He calls himself Sparkstone now and seeks the seven scions. Also, I fear, he treads the necromantic path. His ambition knows no bounds.”

“It is as it is, and cannot be otherwise.”

Mrs. Stone took a deep breath. “The ancient song of the wastes has affected the young.”

“As per its nature—the childlings are uninvited.”

“Yes, well, I could hardly have left them behind now, could I?” Mrs. Stone adjusted her robe. “Forgive me. I do not recall the song being so potent. Even I do not feel quite myself.”

“You have always come bearing the scion, though it is true the song has changed of late. I do not know why, I simply, along with the others, stand to witness change.”

“And the skies?”

“There is much debate amongst us on this matter.”

“I see. The young need sanctuary.”

“Very well.” Thomas swept over them with his night eyes. “I shall break the Vow for you, Anna. I will build sanctuary and make light for the uninvited.” His right arm flared to life with bands of fire and the ground started shaking. Clay beds rose from the dirt around them, with moss growing into pillows and blankets. When the rumbling stopped, he made a simple gesture to the beds. Everybody but Mrs. Stone chose one and lay down, while he continued his arcanery.

As Augum struggled to keep his eyes open, trees rose from the ground, making a large protective grove. The last thing he saw before sleep overtook him was his great-grandfather, arm burning bright, raising an earthen table the color of rust.

A Vote of Life and Death

Augum awoke to the rustling of leaves and creaking of trunks, feeling as if he had slept for a month. Somewhere out of view, his great-grandmother spoke to her husband in low tones.

He paid no attention. It was snugly warm under the moss blanket, from where he watched orange-tinged clouds race by, until his great-grandmother’s head swam into view.

“Breakfast, Augum.”

He smiled for the first time since arriving in Ley. “Yes, Nana.” He sat up, stretched, yawned, and glanced about.

They were in a grass clearing surrounded by twisting oaks. Braziers burned on simple pedestals. Moss beds lay strewn about. Earthen stone benches sandwiched an earthen table, on top of which were an assortment of Leyan fruits and vegetables in rough wooden bowls.

The others stirred in their beds. When Augum saw Mya, she smiled. He felt his face grow hot and turned away.

Bridget prodded her mossy pillow. “I thought this was all a dream.”

Mrs. Stone strolled to the table. “Thomas has placed a sanctuary enchantment on this grove. You should feel completely normal by now, and if not, I promise you will after breakfast.”

Prince Sydo moseyed up to Thomas and inspected him. “You have an unusual quality to your skin. And I remember … that you are Mrs. Stone’s husband, is that not so?”