Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (56 page)

Leera bumped his arm, offering the spyglass. He took it and swept the camp, fixating on a figure wearing ornate black armor and a black surcoat. He instantly recognized the confident gait and the relaxed gestures dispatching men to various tasks.

“Commander Tridian,” he whispered, confirming their conjecture that it was he who rode by them earlier. The others stirred. “And Robin,” he added. Robin was near the commander, talking to someone ahead. Augum searched with the spyglass.

“Robin’s talking to the wraith,” he reported. “He’s giving it commands or something …” Suddenly the wraith smashed one of the tents with a massive claw-like appendage. Men ran in all directions. Tridian even took a step back, shouting something incomprehensible from this distance. Robin calmed the wraith down, bidding it to sit like a dog. Tridian gave a nod and patted Robin on the back.

Another figure stepped forward, an old man in an ornate black Robe, its edges fringed with brilliant gold. He had a long gray beard and a thin, hard face. Even from this distance, Augum saw eyes as black as coal. Something about the way the man carried himself exuded power.

“Corrigus,” he whispered.

“Damn,” Leera muttered.

He spotted a portly man with curly hair approach. “And there’s Canes … looks like they’re having a meeting.” He watched the villains make jokes, congratulate Robin. The Blade of Sorrows charged a few men to fix the tent the wraith had destroyed. The men did so hesitantly, never taking their eyes off the sitting monster that watched them.

Augum passed the spyglass to Mr. Goss, who frowned as he looked through it.

“This is going to be a little tricky, but do not lose faith.”

“We might have to change our plans,” Augum said.

“We have time,” Leera said. “Let’s just see what they do …”

They waited together, watching like hawks, snacking on biscuit beef and nuts while passing the spyglass around. With all the activity in the camp, it was evident the Legion was gearing up for something. As the glass came to Bridget for the third time, she reacted almost as soon as she put it to her eye.

“I don’t believe it—” She glanced to Augum quickly before checking again. “I think it’s Mya …”

His heart skipped a beat. Bridget passed over the spyglass. He frantically swept the camp, finally spotting her lithe figure before Robin, who glared at her. She stood wringing her hands, head bowed, wearing a plain red servant dress with the Legion emblem in the center of her chest.

He saw other girls wearing the same outfit, but paid them no heed. When he glimpsed Mya’s almond eyes, a surge of electricity passed through him.

“We have to save her,” he whispered. No one replied, but he didn’t care. Crazy plans of rescue rolled through his head. As Mya disappeared to do Robin’s bidding, he felt a sense of loss, and only then did he give up the spyglass.

“If I may, who is this Mya?” Mr. Goss asked, taking the glass from Augum.

“She’s Prince Sydo’s old servant,” Leera said, her tone a little stiff. “Augum has a crush on her.”

Augum reddened as Mr. Goss gave him a playful elbow. “She must be very pretty to get your attention, Augum.”

“Oh, she’s very pretty all right,” Leera said. “Just too bad she’s five years his elder.”

“Ah, but age does not stand in the way of love,” Mr. Goss went on, smiling, a faraway look in his eye. “My own mother was seven years my father’s elder and they were very happy together.”

Leera pursed her lips while Augum thought of ways to change the subject.

“I think that’s really cute,” Bridget said.

Leera gave her a dirty look before expelling a resigned sigh. “So what are we going to do now? How can we possibly save Haylee
and
Mya
and
still perform the ritual? I mean, the watchtower is directly on top of Hangman’s Rock, right in the center of camp …”

“It would be helpful if we could hear what they were saying,” Bridget said. She gave Augum a meaningful look.

“The orb—” they chorused.

He dug it out of the rucksack along with its accompanying pearl, and studied the area between the forest and the tents. The grass was high enough and the snow just low enough that if he crawled, as long as no one happened to stumble across him, he could reach the southwestern-most tent.

“I’ll plant the orb at the edge of the camp,” he said.

Leera grabbed his arm just as he was getting up. “What if they have detection enchantments of some kind?”

“If there’s no one to fear, why bother putting enchantments in place? Anyway, even if they did, wouldn’t it be better to find out now?”

“Augum is right,” Mr. Goss said. “They are not expecting anyone to sneak in, and it would be immensely helpful to overhear them.”

Leera loosened her grip on him. “Just be careful.”

Augum nodded, handing Bridget the pearl. “Here, warn me if someone’s coming, I’ll keep a close ear to the orb.” He then crawled forward over a snow bank bordering the spruce, and scuttled into the Tallows.

His nerves jingled crawling up on the camp like that. Should a patrol stumble across him, should there be any protective enchantments, should the man in the watchtower stare too long in his direction—

“Stop—!” a tinny voice whispered from within the orb of Orion.

He froze just as boots approached. Two voices bantered back and forth.

“Imagine the celebration—”

“Ale for all.”

“Ale and wenches.”

“What do you think the servants have been brought here for?”

They laughed as Augum felt his blood quicken. His resolve strengthened to iron. The boots soon faded.

“You’re good to go,” Bridget said from within the orb.

He could almost feel the spyglass on him. He was sure she would be able to follow the slight waving of the grass. After all, there was no wind, which in this case was unfortunate because even a slight breeze would have helped mask his movements.

He pushed on, making it to the southwestern-most tent without raising an alarm. It seemed the Legion were too arrogant to cast any detecting enchantments after all. The tent was quiet so he crawled forward between it and the one over, right up to where the grass had been cut. He then very carefully planted the orb at the boundary. He judged that, by the lack of light and the way he sat in the grass, he wouldn’t be seen—not unless someone actually walked right up to him and looked straight down.

“All right, lock it,” he whispered into the orb, gently obscuring it with some snow. Just then, a familiar voice rang out close by.

“It is most fortunate indeed, Commander,” Canes said. “Now all we need is the boy.”

“Let us not celebrate yet, Commander,” replied the Blade of Sorrows in a bored voice. “The trap has been set, but it still needs to be sprung.”

“He knows where she is. He
will
succeed.”

“You of all people should know never to underestimate the crone,” Tridian said. “Lord Sparkstone understands this well. That is why he has asked you and Corrigus to join him.”

“Now—?” Canes asked, voice almost a whine. “But, how can I possibly help our lord? I lack arcane knowledge.”

“Lord Sparkstone is quite aware of your limitations. However, you have spent much time with her of late in the castle, and he deems such intelligence … valuable. Though if he had asked my opinion, I would have told him you were as useless as a donkey without legs.”

“Perhaps if you had managed the simple task of holding the boy, none of this would have been necessary.” Canes spat into the snow. “So where am I to go?”

“Semadon.”

“Semadon! But that’s—”

“—yes, it is,” Commander Tridian said, voice edged with glee. “Corrigus will teleport himself, you, and forty of our best men in stages—if his arcanery lasts that long.”

“It will last that long,” growled a voice.

“Corrigus—”

It was amusing yet worrying for Augum to hear a note of fear in the Blade of Sorrows’ voice.

“Perhaps you should use some of your time training our recruits, rather than sneaking up on the officers.”

“If Lord Sparkstone commanded me to spare time in training the weak I would do so without hesitation,” Corrigus replied. “As it stands, he deems my time too precious to waste, Tridian.”

“
Commander
Tridian,” the Blade of Sorrows said slowly.

Corrigus gave an amused grunt. “Lord Sparkstone summons us. We must depart with haste. I will be casting Group Teleport consecutively until all of us have departed. Be sure you do not dally, fallen knight.”

“As you wish, Corrigus,” Canes replied.

“Oh, it is not my wish, it is Lord Sparkstone’s wish, and I know my duty. Get your men ready and meet me by the rock.” Corrigus departed with a swish of his robe.

“You know, I do think the old warlock needs the comforts of a wench,” Canes said with a half chuckle. When Tridian made no response, he sighed. “And you? What does our great lord have in store for you?”

“I am to find the boy. I will be riding shortly. I think he may be trying to get into the crone’s old cave to acquire a Group Teleport scroll.”

That would have been smart, Augum thought, realizing that although the cave had collapsed, it
may
have been possible to move the rocks using Telekinesis.

“Right then. Good luck to you, Commander,” Canes said mockingly.

“I look forward to hosting you in one of my iron rooms when you slip, Canes,” Tridian replied.

Canes snorted, turned on his heel, and began shouting commands to his men.

Augum was glad they despised each other. Now he just needed to find out where they were keeping Haylee and Mya …

“Did you hear all that?” he whispered into the orb.

“Yes,” came the tinny reply. “Come back now before they discover you.”

“On my way.”

He began the return crawl. Midway, the night lit up with a bright flash originating from the camp, instantly followed by an implosive rumble—the first batch of men had been teleported. When he reached the spruce, Leera and Bridget each gave him their blanket to warm up.

“So let me get this straight,” Leera began, “Corrigus will take Canes and forty men. A whole bunch more will go south with Tridian to look for us—”

“—and whoever’s left we’ll split further with Mr. Goss’ distraction fire,” Bridget said.

“Anyone happen to know where Semadon is?” Augum asked.

Bridget withdrew Tridian’s sheepskin map and gave it a long scan. “It’s not even on here.”

“It is in the Northern Peals,” Mr. Goss said absently, watching with the spyglass. Another bright flash of light lit up the sky, followed by a low concussive rumble. “There goes another batch.”

“We need to find out which tent Mya and Haylee are in,” Augum said.

Mr. Goss passed the spyglass to Bridget. “Once all the men are gone, including Commander Tridian’s attachment south, I shall run north and build a lamp oil fire. As we discussed, we will do two turns of the hourglass. I will start the fire at the end of the second hour. Hopefully it will clear most of the remaining men out of camp.”

The trio nodded.

The flashes kept up a steady pace with relatively short intervals between.

Augum was amazed at Corrigus’ arcane stamina. Such a complex spell, yet he could cast it repeatedly. It worried him this powerful warlock planned to attack his great-grandmother alongside his father.

“Shh, I think I hear Robin,” Bridget whispered, closing her eyes while clutching the pearl. They anxiously waited for her to hear out what he had to say. “That evil little … they’re keeping Haylee in chains in a tent on the opposite side of the tower. There’s to be a trial when Tridian gets back from the south. Robin was gloating that they’ll probably put her to death.”

Augum glanced at Leera, who gave a tiny nod as if finally agreeing that they should indeed save Haylee.

“Here, have a look.” Bridget passed the spyglass over to him. “The one with the guard outside it.”

He found the tent in short order. It sat on the far side of camp, close to the middle and well lit by torches. Were there guards inside also? If not, maybe they could sneak in from the back, free Haylee, explain the spell, then somehow creep unseen to Hangman’s Rock, where they would have to quickly look for the triangular witch’s mark and perform the ritual. That’s going to be the trickiest part.

But how to rescue Mya at the same time?

The more he thought about it the more impossible the plan seemed. There were just too many opportunities to get caught, too many risks …

When the flashes finally ceased, activity began around the horses.

“Commander Tridian’s force is departing,” Mr. Goss whispered, glancing at the trio with a grave look. “Are you three ready for this?”

They each gave firm nods.

Mr. Goss retrieved his hourglass, Bridget its bronze twin. They turned them over at the same time. To Augum, it was somewhat ceremonial—there was no turning back now.

“All right, you have two hours. I leave you with full confidence in your abilities. Please give Mrs. Stone my best regards and pass on my wish that we meet again.”

Augum hardly knew what to say. His throat went dry and there was a hollow feeling in his stomach. Mr. Goss was really leaving them, taking a huge risk on their behalf …

“Mr. Goss, your spyglass—” Bridget said, voice breaking.

“Keep it, you need it more than I do. Goodbye and … good luck.” With that, he crawled out from under the blue spruce and disappeared into the night.

“Goodbye, Mr. Goss …” Bridget whispered.

For a time the trio sat in silence, watching the particles of sand dribble down the neck of the hourglass. Augum thought of Leland and hoped Mr. Goss returned to him. He’d never forgive himself otherwise.

“They’re departing,” Bridget reported.

They began counting the horses together.

“…eighteen … nineteen … twenty.”

“Twenty men gone to look for us,” Augum said, spotting Commander Tridian among the departing group, but not Robin. “So including Corrigus and Canes, forty-two had gone to trap Nana, which leaves about forty still in camp. Now we wait and see how they react to Mr. Goss’ fire.”

“Think he has enough time to build it?” Leera asked. “And what about all the snow—won’t it be hard to light a fire?