Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (62 page)

Augum glanced to his right. Bridget was freed first, so weak she had to be helped up by the silver-haired guard.

“She gave us quite the slip, almost as if someone had warned her. She cannot be working alone.”

So his father had no idea it was him that alerted Nana …

“There are obviously others involved in the insurgency,” Sparkstone continued. “An insurgency I shall crush as I have crushed all impudence. You know, Son, your great-grandmother has identical ambitions to mine, if you could believe it—” He idly glanced to Leera, now also free from her manacles and held up by a guard. “That’s right, she, too, wants to live forever. How do you think she’s as old as she is? How many great-grandmothers do you know still walking around performing arcanery with such strength?”

Augum remained silent, trying to keep his face impassive.

“Let me tell you the real reason she wants to keep the scion.” He leaned closer. Augum detected the faintest scent of rot. “It’s what’s allowing her to live so long.”

“If she’s keeping the scion, it’s for a better reason than that,” Augum said.

Sparkstone gave him a condescending smile. “Stupid boy, you think her so benevolent as to eventually pass the scion to you? It would mean her death!”

Augum didn’t believe him in the slightest. He knew Mrs. Stone wanted to pass him the scion, but was just waiting for the right time—and if the scion truly was keeping her alive, there was no way he would accept it from her. Despite his true feelings on the matter, he decided to let his father think that seed of doubt had been planted, and so he dropped his eyes and acted sullen.

They freed Haylee next, followed by the unconscious Ms. Jenkins. Then the guards dragged them out of the tent, including Mya. The girls gave Augum a longing look, a look that said good luck and goodbye. Something about it made him feel tired and lonely—he hoped they’d be all right, wherever they were being taken.

“Would you get these blasted things off already—” Lord Sparkstone said to the guard, gesturing at Augum’s manacles.

The guard hastened to free Augum’s hands. When they dropped at last, a stretching pain shot through his shoulders, as if he’d been quartered by horses for days. His arms were swollen, purple and numb. Luckily, no one noticed the engraved pearl still clenched in his fist.

“Stand him up.”

Augum was yanked to his feet.

“Lord Sparkstone—!” Canes said, holding up a small speaking orb. The entire crowd turned to the curly-haired man Augum would forever perceive as a traitor.

“What is it—?”

“Forgive me, Great One, but I think it’s—I think it’s one of the other commanders. He’s trying to say something—”

The Lord of the Legion made an impatient sucking sound with his teeth and strode over, the guard dragging Augum right along. Everyone parted out of their way as Sparkstone snatched the speaking orb out of Canes’ hand. No one dared move as he listened.

Augum, held right beside his father, was in perfect position to see and hear what was going on. Inside the small orb, he saw a burned face, still smoking, whispering something.

“My liege, who is it?” Canes asked quietly.

Sparkstone’s nostrils whistled as he inhaled. “Commander Tridian.”

“The Blade of Sorrows,” someone mumbled.

The soldiers exchanged anxious looks.

“No, I expect you to survive—!” Sparkstone roared into the orb. “You are to live and suffer your failure!” He shoved the orb back to Canes, who fumbled it in his hairy hands. “That’s what the fool gets for refusing to have an accomplished warlock with him. Man hasn’t an arcane bone in his body, but I thought he at least had a brain.”

Some of the soldiers tittered but Sparkstone shot a glaring look at them and they instantly fell silent. He put on his plumed helm. “She’ll be here soon. Prepare yourselves.” He made an impatient gesture and everyone but Corrigus, Canes, Robin, Sydo, and the Red Guards vacated the tent.

Augum stood by his father, trying to contain his hope. If the Blade of Sorrows and his men had fallen, it could only mean one thing—Mrs. Stone had saved Leland and Mr. Goss—but how she could have known about them was a mystery.

Sparkstone glanced at his Red Guard, as if communicating silently with them. “Corrigus—prepare defensive enchantments around the camp,” he said without taking his eyes off them.

“As you wish, Sire,” Corrigus said, dismissing himself.

“Prince Sydo.”

Sydo skittered forth with an elaborate bow. “Yes, my gracious lord?”

“You’ve had enough training with wraiths. Take command of Robin’s.”

Sydo paled, stuttering, “You mean for a real battle?”

Robin strode forth. “But, my Lord, that’s my—”

The Lord of the Legion glanced over at them and they instantly fell silent. Both swallowed, made a short bow, and left.

Canes shifted where he stood, still clutching the speaking orb, his pudgy face sweaty even in the cold.

“A great battle approaches,” Sparkstone said softly. “I have been waiting for this a long time.” He turned to Augum, the plumed helm making him appear much taller. “Today I prove I am the most powerful warlock alive.” He made an idle gesture and out flew three cloudy spheres from a leather pouch in his belt. Each had a light tint to it—one red, one green, one pale blue.

The scions hovered around the Lord of the Legion like attentive bees, humming with ancient, potent arcanery. The space around him warped slightly. Canes swallowed and took a step back.

“Keep the boy close to me at all times,” Sparkstone said, leaving the tent, Red Guard in tow.

“Yes, m’lord.” Canes grabbed Augum by the arm and dragged him along.

Outside was a hive of activity. Torches burned around the outer perimeter of the camp, where Corrigus paced making complex gestures. Guards ran to and fro. Horses were prepared, armor donned.

The night was dark. Clouds rushed by overhead without a whisper of wind on the ground. Augum searched for the girls. They had to be near, no way would his father give up precious hostages.

“You there,” Commander Canes said to a hapless guard. “Sharpen stakes and impale them in the ground there and there.”

“She’s a warlock, you fool,” Lord Sparkstone said.

Canes reddened. “Cancel that order, soldier. As you were.” The guard rushed off.

Augum spied Robin hissing something at Sydo, again gesturing at the prince’s more elaborate robes, then at the wraith hunkered down behind them. Sydo merely shrugged, and as soon as Sparkstone happened to look his way, he made another elaborate bow. “I am here, My Liege! The wraith is under control and ready to attack.”

Robin looked incredulous. “You haven’t even given it a proper command—”

“I will not stand for your insufferable attitude. You are to address me as
Prince Sydo
, and you will bow upon doing so.”

“You trumped up little snot, I’m the one who gave you—”

Sydo, conscious of the Lord of the Legion looking on, held up a hand right in Robin’s face. “You will cease speaking to me immediately and step away. I am in control of the wraith now.”

Robin was shaking with fury but, conscious of the Lord of the Legion looking on, stepped away and crossed his arms.

It gave Augum some pleasure watching those two go at it. Both should have been Sparkstone’s sons, not him.

They were in a clearing near the middle of the camp. The Lord of the Legion paced back and forth, hands behind his back, scions buzzing. His Red Guards stood near, towering sentries clutching burning blades.

“My Lord,” Canes began, constantly glancing about for any sign of Mrs. Stone. “How do you think she will attack us?”

“That I do not know, Commander.”

Canes swallowed. “I … I’ve heard a little of what she can do … back at … back at Castle Arinthian, that is.”

“You mean when she folded your arms back?” Augum said, unable to help himself.

Canes gave Augum a murderous look.

“Ah, yes.” Sparkstone turned to face Canes, who shrank. “She freed you to deliver me a message. How did that go again … ‘Tell Lividius the hole in his heart can’t be filled with what he seeks’. Wasn’t that it now?”

“I … I think so, my liege.”

“And how does it feel to wear the burdensome title of Fallen Knight?”

“I serve you in the only way I know, Sire. I had an opportunity and I took it. The sacrifice was … necessary. Eternal life is worth the price of my honor.”

“Precisely why you are one of my commanders. An honor well deserved.”

Canes nodded while slowly exhaling.

“Yes, there are indeed quite a few tales of my grandmother’s battles,” Sparkstone went on, looking off into the horizon. “Apoc’s forfeit. The vanquishing of the Desert Destroyer. The Canterran Cobra. The Blacktongue tragedy. The two duels against Ottentus Maledius Anavictus, one of the last living masters.” He was rattling them off now, hands animated. “Snix the Speedsword, Sabius the Reaper, Totillus the Turncoat Monk, Endius, Scadius, Trintus, Zodian the Grand, and of course, no one will ever forget Narsus … and I could go on.” He paused while Canes adjusted his collar, looking a little peaky.

“She is, uh, quite accomplished, Sire.”

“You know I studied every one of those battles, and to this day, I still don’t know how she beat her adversaries in half of them.” He turned to Canes. “But that’s just between us of course.”

“—of course, Great lord.”

For Augum, it was one thing to hear stories about Mrs. Stone from Bridget, quite another to hear them from the Lord of the Legion.

“You know that when I was a boy,” Sparkstone continued wistfully, “I would hear about all these legendary duels, but none of them were real to me, none of them. Today though … today will be real.” He nodded to himself. “She is now the only living master. She was my mentor, and I must say, a better one than Narsus.”

“Sire, you trained under the great Narsus?” Canes asked.

Sparkstone turned to Augum, ignoring Canes. “Few know that, my son, but it is true. I was Narsus’ apprentice.”

Augum wondered if Mrs. Stone even knew that.

Canes cleared his beefy throat. “And … and she vanquished him—”

“—below the Academy of Arcane Arts, yes,” Sparkstone finished, lightning eyes still on Augum, who only wanted to yell how Nana would also defeat them and walk away unscathed, but he remembered he was pretending to cooperate.

Sparkstone resumed pacing. “You are wondering why the stories of the greatness of our foe, Commander Canes. We must be honest with ourselves in order to succeed. Never underestimate your opponent.” He began talking to himself in an undertone now. “I have three scions and she only one. We have Corrigus, the wraith, the Red Guard, and over eighty men at our disposal. But above all, we have
them
.” Sparkstone waved idly at Augum, apparently forgetting he had agreed to free his friends. Augum, however, had no illusions as to his father’s so-called promises, and it came as no surprise to him. To be fair, he also had no intention of convincing Mrs. Stone to hand over the scion, especially now that he knew it might mean her death. The whole thing was like some strange play they were in, trying to convince each other of their acting abilities.

The question now was how it would end. With no way to cast spells and his only possession the near-useless pearl, the prospect of him doing something meaningful seemed remote.

He hoped Nana had a plan.

Canes, still holding onto Augum’s elbow, spoke into his speaking orb before turning to Sparkstone. “My liege, I sent Axon Company a message to double-time their march. If all goes well, they should be here within hours.”

“Ah, Rotus Magnavilius—a good man and a good commander.”

“Pardon, my liege, but he’s a warlock, isn’t he?” Canes sounded hopeful.

Sparkstone smiled to himself. “One of the best. He was with me in the beginning, you know. 17th degree fire, a bit of a madman, and a hell of a drinker. Back then, you couldn’t just refuse a contest with Rotus. He’d keep after you until you said yes, and then you’d wake up in the morning with the vilest headache. I gave him Axon Company for his service, though I envision him becoming my first general one day. It will be good to have him by my side, but what I really need is necromancers and an army of Dreadnought-equipped soldiers, not just warlocks. Damn, why must everything take so long?” He sighed. “I suppose I should know the arcane way can’t be rushed …”

Augum studied him as he paced. If he couldn’t use his arcanery, he’d use his wits. Maybe he could exploit his father’s fear of Mrs. Stone …

Sparkstone approached the wraith sitting beside Sydo and pet one of its rotten limbs. “Ah, you are quite the triumph, aren’t you? Thousands of years of necromantic artistry passed down by my predecessors …”

The wraith cooed like a pigeon.

“He is a marvelous incarnation, Your Eminence,” Sydo said as Robin glared from nearby.

The Lord of the Legion ignored him. “Don’t worry, my pet, one day you’ll have many brothers and sisters to fight alongside you, this I promise. For now, you must do your ancient duty and obey this fledgling necrophyte.” Sparkstone glanced between Sydo, Robin and Augum. “The children of the Legion are its future.”

For the first time ever, Augum exchanged a look with Robin and Sydo, and all three agreed on one thing—no way did they want anything to do with each other.

“So you just summon the wraiths from the ground?” Augum asked his father, trying to sound casual. “How hard are they to control?”

Robin quietly scoffed.

“Is that interest I hear?” Sparkstone asked, turning away from the wraith. “Does my son secretly wish to become a necromancer?”

For some odd reason, Sydo pranced forward and smacked Augum on the cheek with one of the lamest slaps Augum had ever felt. It barely stung.

“They are not merely
summoned
from the ground, you gutterborn little—” Sydo stopped mid-sentence, suddenly conscious of what he had inferred. He shrank away from the cold look the Lord of the Legion was giving him, speaking very quickly. “My Liege, I did not mean what I said of course, but let me show this … this usurper … anyway let me show him exactly how, err, how much skill is involved in commanding such a beast—” and before anyone could say anything, Sydo whipped around, gesturing for the wraith to stand. “Necro ita! Ita!” but the thing just sat there. “I said, ita, ita! You damn—” He kicked the wraith in its massive shin. It reacted as swiftly as a viper, snatching him in its giant clawed hands and readying to take a great bite out of his skull while he screamed.