Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) Page 9

  “But is it not so that Leyans were once far more involved with the world?” Bridget asked.

  “That is so, and so it was once, but no more can it be, for learned we have become.” Magua glanced at Augum’s apprentice robe and grunted. “You wear history with little concern, childlings. You were permitted to come to Absalon only because old bonds are hard to break. Thomas’ judgment is clouded by his attachments to the world—by the way of husband and wife.”

  “His judgment isn’t clouded—” Augum said, stepping away. “He believes Leyans need to help us mortals again—and I think he’s right! We need Leyan help defeating my father.”

  Magua scoffed. “Helping mortals is no longer our way. Our way is long and quiet. It is the way of peace and the keeping of ancient knowledge.”

  Was it just him or was that disdain in her voice? “But what’s the point if there’s no one to share the knowledge with?”

  The millennial studied him a moment with those milky eyes. “The Lord of Death has much the same argument, only he goes further still, coveting long life for his devoted followers.”

  “And what if you’re wrong? I mean, what if Leyans were meant to help us ordinary mortals? Since you’ve withdrawn from the world, your numbers have only shrunk—”

  “—Great Elder Magua,” Sydo interrupted in a sweet voice, “is it not your opinion that the best possible course of action would be for Augum to join his heinous father—to prevent war of course?”

  Mya gasped. “Your Highness—”

  Leera turned purple while Bridget just closed her eyes and shook her head. Augum, on the other hand, was hardly surprised.

  The old woman made a hissing noise. “What are ears for if not for listening? I have taken the vow. I cannot advise your course. The vow is in place to protect the mortal world from itself. You have already gained knowledge that breaks the vow.”

  “You mean the Centarro spell?” Bridget said.

  “There is that indeed, but graver is the knowledge that possession of all seven scions would destroy the possessor. This knowledge breaks the vow, for you have gained it from a Leyan.”

  “But we won’t tell anyone, promise—” Leera said.

  The millennial smirked. “Is that so?”

  “What about the Lord of Death?” Augum asked. “What if he finds a way into Ley? Wouldn’t that destroy you? Why won’t you help us mortals prevent that like once before?”

  Magua paused before replying. “You have seen the darkening skies. Ley suffers from that error. We should have let events unfold. Besides, now there are only two means for the Lord of Death to gain entry. The first is using a scion to build a portal to Ley. That knowledge is extinct among mortals and solely resides with the ancient father, Krakatos.” Her tone seemed to suggest it impossible to wrest it from the man.

  “The second is finding an ancient recipe that creates a portal without using a scion.” Her milky eyes wandered over them, eventually fixing onto Sydo, whose fiery brows rose up his forehead. “And that recipe is long thought lost to mortals. So you see, there is no need for Leyan involvement.”

  “Wait,” Augum said, “aren’t you breaking the vow just by telling us this?”

  She made an impatient wave. “It matters little.”

  His neck prickled. “Why not?”

  There was a tint of malice in her voice. “Because our judgments are always sound.” She turned her back on them. “The elders have much to discuss,” and departed, Bridget closing the door after her.

  Augum couldn’t shake the anxious feeling he had about Magua. What was even the point of her visit? Why did she tell them things they weren’t supposed to know or talk about? He plopped down at the table. Mya sat across from him, porcelain features wrinkled in thought.

  Bridget’s robe swished as she began pacing. “Hmm, remember the last thing Mrs. Stone said to her husband?”

  Leera took a seat beside Augum. “Something about judgment in the old way.”

  “Exactly. Well, what if Thomas isn’t the only one being judged—what if we are too?”

  Leera opened a jar of dark jam and smelled the contents, only to make a revolted face. “Relax, Bridge, we’re only waiting for Mrs. Stone. When she comes back, we’ll be gone and they can go back to …” she swatted idly, “whatever it is they do around here.”

  Bridget stopped midstride, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Did anyone else find it strange Magua told us about the ways the Lord of Death could enter Ley?”

  “I did,” Augum said immediately.

  Leera shrugged. “Sparkstone would have done it by now if he knew how to make a gate, or portal, or whatever—”

  “Yeah, but what I’m saying is—” Bridget’s voice dropped even lower, “I think that old woman was hinting Sparkstone could make a portal with our involvement somehow.”

  “Now that is quite preposterous,” the prince said, taking a seat beside Mya. “I hardly think we could influence the Lord of the Legion with regards to such a thing.”

  “And you—” Leera began, pointing a jam-covered finger in his face. “I can’t believe you backstabbed Augum like that!”

  “I merely asked what needed to be asked. What is wrong with the lot of you? Do you not understand the elders’ meaning? If we give Augum over to his father, we can avoid war and murder and … and return the throne to someone more … moderate.”

  Leera’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Give. Augum. Over? You just want the throne!”

  “You fault me for wanting what is rightfully mine? Besides, I am sure that to save the kingdom from ruin, Augum would want to turn himself over.” He gave Augum a sanctimonious look. “How did that line go again?”

  “ ‘Return me mine son and I shall henceforth unburden thy kingdom of mine wrath’,” Augum said, deflating in his chair. “He’s right. I have to try, don’t I? If there was only the smallest chance, wouldn’t it be worth taking?” He glanced between the girls. “I mean, what if I could prevent what happened to your parents from happening to other people?”

  Leera, whose mouth hung open, slowly turned to the prince. Suddenly she lunged across the table and tackled him, the pair falling backwards. “This is your fault, you nasty, spoiled brat! If Augum goes, I’ll—”

  Bridget and Mya sprang into action trying to claw the two of them apart, while Augum sighed, picked up what looked like a blue Leyan orange, and left to go upstairs.

  “You wretched gutterborn,” Sydo said to Leera mid-struggle, “it is not as if his father would kill him!”

  Augum closed the door to his room and pressed the Helix on a torch. He sat on his cot and began mindlessly peeling the odd fruit. His shoulders felt heavy. What he needed was to find a way out of Ley … or maybe what he needed was to wait for Mrs. Stone. Besides, even the thought of leaving the girls made him light-headed.

  Yet, if he truly could stop his father, change his mind, or turn his heart … would it not be the right thing to do?

  He tore off a slice, but his hand froze in mid air.

  No, he had to try. As unpleasant and dangerous as the task was, he might just be the only person in all of Sithesia that could potentially reach his father’s soul. He got up and reached for the door handle.

  “M’lord Augum—?” came Mya’s soft voice from the other side.

  “Mya—” he managed to stammer after a moment, quickly swallowing the orange slice.

  “M’lord, despair is not the solution, nor is going to your father. Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Stone will find another way.”

  “And how many must die in the meantime? I should go, I need to go and try. How can the Leyans be wrong?” He turned his back on the door, angry with her for … for … he did not know for what, truth be told. Oh, if only he were her age …

  “M’lord …” her voice was even softer. “Please, come downstairs and talk.”

  But he didn’t feel like talking. There really wasn’t much to say, was there? It would just cause more heartache all around. He had decided t
o leave, and that was that. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

  He straightened his robe and opened the door.

  Mya stood there smiling at him with those almond emerald eyes. The vision of her almost broke his resolve. He desperately wanted to stay and be near her … but he knew he couldn’t, he had to do the right thing.

  “Come drink and eat something, m’lord, you must be ravishing with hunger.”

  He held up the blue orange. “I have this …”

  She laughed, the musical sound making his heart thump and his cheeks burn. “I’ll come down,” he said at last, “but can you please do something for me?”

  “Anything, m’lord.”

  “Please stop calling me m’lord. Just Augum is fine.”

  She smiled. “As you wish, Augum,” and led him downstairs, where Bridget and Leera sat at the table with sullen expressions. Sydo stood off to the side, arms folded close to his chest. He turned away upon spotting Augum. Bridget and Leera gave him painful smiles as he sat down across from them.

  Bridget’s lip stiffened. “You can’t go, Aug.”

  Leera nodded along. “Yeah, you better not, or I’ll—” She blinked rapidly. “Don’t worry, we’ll find another way to stop your father … or Mrs. Stone will at least.”

  Augum smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve decided to leave.”

  Leera winced and looked away.

  “I have to try … it’s the right thing to do.”

  Suddenly the front door opened. In stepped Oba Sassone carrying a large torch, his metallic muscles rippling.

  “With me you come. Now.”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Bridget whispered as they got up. “Where are we going? Should we take anything with us?” She asked Oba.

  Oba merely scowled and turned his back, leaving them to scurry after him. He marched off through dark alleys, curved swords clinking. No one dared light their palm.

  After turning a corner, they saw a great circle of torch-bearers standing in the vast square of Absalon.

  Augum’s hands went clammy as they descended wide stairs, coming to a stop in a gap evidently left for them. As they lined up, he recognized the elders on the opposite side. He searched for his great-grandfather, but torches obscured many of the faces. Their metallic bodies and dark eyes gave the Leyans a demonic appearance in that torchlight. There was a skin color for every shade known, and some unknown, along with a wide variety of exotic dress.

  Magua shuffled forward. “We gather in our ancient ancestral home of Absalon to hide from angry skies above. Change has come.” She stepped back into the circle as a pink-skinned elder stepped forward.

  “We come to assign penance and answer a question.” Her gray eyes fell on Augum and the others. “What are we to do with these uninvited mortal childlings, testaments to the broken vow?”

  The Leyans muttered amongst themselves as she stepped back.

  “I propose we train the childlings,” a voice boomed. It was Thomas—he had stepped forward on the far right.

  There were many mutterings of disagreement and shaking of heads.

  Thomas raised his bronze hands to appease them. “I further propose the time has come for us to put aside the vow.”

  The crowd grew louder, some hissing in displeasure.

  Magua stepped forward again, calming the crowd with a single withered hand. “Thomas Stone speaks from the heart, but it is his heart that breaks our vow. The Vow is the balance we have strived to maintain for over fifteen hundred years. It is holy. It is sacred. What Thomas Stone proposes is nothing short of blasphemy.” She paused before continuing in a louder voice. “I move to banish the childlings from our land and wipe their minds of the time spent here.”

  This time the crowd murmured with agreement. Augum turned to Bridget and Leera, sharing silent expressions of alarm. He could barely breathe, wondering what it would be like to remember nothing.

  “They should have gone with Anna Stone, why did she not take them?” called a young woman in a forest-colored cloak.

  “Yes, why did she not take them?” asked a voice from the left.

  “Wipe their minds!” said another.

  “Anna embarked on a quest to consult the Seers in the north,” Thomas said. “A quest too dangerous for the childlings. The Legion searches for her, for the childlings, and for the scion in Anna’s possession. Villages and towns have posters painted of their faces with a coin reward and a promise of eternal life. She could not take them with her.”

  The old scarlet-robed man with almond eyes stepped forward. “It is not for us to judge or interfere. We have already broken the vow giving council on your behalf, young Thomas Stone. Amends must be made. I am aligned with Magua as to the penance.”

  The crowd rumbled in agreement.

  Thomas once again stepped forward, sweeping the circle with his black eyes until all fell silent. “Our words and our deeds have lost their way. The time of the vow is over. We must include ourselves in mortal affairs again. Choosing not to would be disastrous for many, Leyans and mortals alike. A millennium and a half ago we were part of the mortal world. We shared our knowledge and there were thousands of us. We prospered. Mortals prospered. And since the vow, we have declined. There are only sixty-seven of us left. And we, the keepers of history, know that mortal arcane and non-arcane knowledge has also declined. Mortals know only the bare minimum, and no more.” Thomas sighed deeply. “I say the vow will only bring about our destruction, for if the Lord of Death, fortified by the strength of scions and Dreadnought armor comes, we will be woefully unprepared, with no champions to fight on our behalf. We are but legend to the world, spoken of in tales around the fire.”

  His words caused quite a stir, even amongst the elders, who looked to each other as if communicating wordlessly, all but Krakatos, who stood as still as a pond on a windless day.

  Thomas pressed on, his voice rising, the most emotion Augum has seen from the man. “I ask you all, for who do we keep our knowledge? For ourselves? It is time we face the fact that this is most selfish of us. I refuse to believe history entrusted us with ancient secrets only to hoard them—and to what end? Until only one of us remains? To whom would we pass on the knowledge then? The ancient library stands dusty and quiet. It is time to admit the vow has failed in its aim, for the mortals barely know of our existence and yet they still covet our powers—something the vow was supposed to prevent.”

  This time there were many conceding whispers and nods as Thomas stepped back into the circle.

  “Thomas Stone again speaks from the heart,” answered the old woman with the ivory skin and queenly gown. Heads turned in her direction. “But what he asks we cannot do, for we have sworn a sacred vow—sacred and holy. The Unnameables watch us and judge, for we are their chosen few. No, Thomas Stone must give proper penance. Let us leave the mortals to their fate.”

  The crowd stirred but stayed silent.

  “Even if that fate brings our destruction—?” Thomas countered, late in stepping forward. “Where has the ancient Leyan wisdom gone? Has the vow left us senseless and unable to adapt? We forged the scions in our defense, knowing all too well the coveting ways of mortals. Moreover, what did we do? We gifted the scions to them to save ourselves. So why should we turn our backs when their sufferings are our doing?”

  Voices rose at Thomas’ words, some in apparent agreement.

  Magua stepped forward. “Words change nothing! That which has been done cannot be undone! Enough of this. Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone are hereby charged with transgressions against the sacred Vow of Isolation. The charges are as follows—Thomas Stone has accepted uninvited childlings under his care. Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone have helped train the childlings. Thomas Stone has endowed vow-breaking knowledge upon the childlings. I now move for the elders to convene and assign penance.”

  Augum had enough and stepped forward. Some in the crowd immediately hissed.

  “How dare the childling—”

  “Most unorthodox�
��”

  “Such impudence—”

  “Let him speak—!” said the millennial woman in the ancient servant’s outfit.

  Augum forced himself to concentrate on his words not his nerves. “We mortals need Leyan help!” he shouted, hearing his voice echo distantly. “I wish to hear from Krakatos the Ancient!”

  All eyes turned to the pink-spectacled man with the white loincloth—except he neither moved or acknowledged anyone. Augum’s stomach plummeted. If there was anyone who could sway the Leyans …

  Magua stepped forward, lips forming into a victorious smile. “I do believe the ancient father has chosen not to speak—” but she was cut off by gasps—Krakatos had taken a single measured step forward. Magua stood a moment longer before making a scowling retreat. Time passed as Krakatos’ gaze swept the circle. Augum felt a sense of peace as the Leyan’s spectacled eyes passed over him.

  “Let us expatiate,” the ancient Leyan began in his rapid prose and sharp accent. “It falls to me, an antediluvian and recalcitrant Leyan, to pass more than mere conjecture on the dilemma I myself have been pondering for an inexcusably protracted panorama of time. My vacillation has been a long-suffering malignance, and so I am quite ready for the perfection of verdict and absolution. Probability reasons that you will see my resolution as nothing more than profane sentiment. I anticipate a swift riposte, though you will find me unduly prepared. Now for the crux of my well-seasoned gambit—contrary to our beliefs, we Leyans can and should fathom beyond the eternal moment in which we dwell.”

  At this, the crowd stirred uncomfortably, but Krakatos went right on. Augum didn’t exactly know what the Leyan meant, but he knew it was significant.

  “In fact, let it be known forthwith that I have spent a copious amount of time conceiving of the next move in the grandest of games, and conjointly, of what has transpired. Ergo, I assert the choice is nothing if not clear. On the one hand, we have dogma, a paragon of orthodoxy and preservation. Diametrically, we have the unperceived alien fluidity of change. Let it be known I simply urge the latter.”