Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1) (12 page)

“Mum hit the ceiling at the 2nd degree and Dad at the 3rd.” Leera reached across and snatched his drink. “And you can stop pretending to like this. That’s right, I saw your face twitch.” She discarded the contents under the table, handing him back the cup. “There, now you’ll be loved for life when she sees you finished it.”

“Mrs. Jones will just give you another one,” said an approaching skinny boy with ebony skin. He had an oval face and wore a ruby-red cloak with fur-topped boots.

“Augum, meet Tyeon Sharpe,” Bridget said. “He’s with us.”

Tyeon extended his hand with a polite smile. “Call me Tye.”

“Augum.”

“Bridge, Lee—how’s it going?”

“We’re recruiting,” Bridget said.

Leera flashed a roguish grin. “Snagged one for our side.”

“Ah, the war continues—Gutterborns versus Snobs.”

“Tye, don’t use—”

“I know, Bridge, sorry.” He turned to Augum. “So the legendary Anna Atticus Stone is your mentor.”

Augum put the empty mug near Leera, who promptly hid it behind a bowl of carrot sticks. “Yes, at least until she loses patience with me.” He forced a smile, though truthfully he felt dumb; he had a lot of catching up to do.

“Are you kidding? If she was my mentor, I’d have taken the Lord of the Legion’s place by now—”

“Tyeon Sharpe—”

Leera rolled her eyes. “He was
kidding
, Bridge.”

“Correct, Leera, I was in fact kidding. Anyway, I can’t believe she’s alive even. It’s big news. This is great for everyone.”

“I’d love to be there when Lord Sparkstone finds out,” Leera said, reaching past Augum to snag a branch of grapes the size of plums. “Just to see the look on his stupid face.” Her eyes closed as she bit into a grape. “Mmm …” She dangled the branch before Augum, singing, “I know you want one …”

Augum plucked a fat grape. He bit into it and a spicy sweet and sour flavor exploded on his tongue. It immediately took away the nausea of that foul concoction.

“Wow …” he said.

Leera’s brows rose. “Wait, you’ve never tried Titan grapes? And I thought I was sheltered …”

Augum swallowed and reached for another. They really were outstandingly good. “I grew up in a small village.”

“You’re not the only one,” Tyeon said. “I was born in a hamlet in the Sierran deserts. About the only thing we had to do was chase sand snakes and beat each other up.”

“Sounds familiar,” Augum said, “except for the snakes part.” He imagined running up a yellow dune, feet sinking into hot sand. “At least you got to travel, I haven’t been anywhere yet. What brought your family this far north anyway?”

Tyeon gave up trying to swat the branch of grapes Leera kept dangling before his face and plucked one. “My family fled north during the Stormsand uprising when I was six.”

“You remember it?” Bridget asked. “The uprising, that is?”

“The only thing I remember is seeing rain for the first time. Wagon got stuck in mud, but I got to play. Mother called me filthy. Come to think of it, she still does.”

Leera scoffed. “There was a big war around you and
that’s
all that you remember?”

“Mostly. Why, was I supposed to remember everything I saw at six years of age?”

Leera gaped a moment. “Well,
I
do. I mean, I remember crawling the streets of Blackhaven, visiting the Black castle with Mum and Dad—”

But Augum’s attention snagged on a short woman with too much makeup, wearing a mustard cloak and saffron boots. She had been jumping up and down, saying “Yoo-hoo!” to Mrs. Stone, when she tripped over her own feet and fell face first into the muddy snow, nearly rolling into the fire. She hastily stood, swirled some of the mud onto her cheeks as if it was rouge, and resumed trying to capture Mrs. Stone’s attention.

Augum nodded at her. “Um, who’s that?”

Bridget snorted a laugh. “Oh, that’s Ms. Drumworm. She’s supposed to be one of our teachers.”

“She’s completely crazy,” Leera said. “As in, eats-leaves-because-she-thinks-they’re-good-for-aging kind of crazy. No idea how she got the job.”

“Friends with my grandma,” Bridget said, popping a honeyed almond in her mouth. “Nana thinks she’s adorable.”

“Both our grandmas are on the village council,” Tyeon said to Augum. “I think they hired Ms. Drumworm just to get more of those anti-aging tips.”

Leera tossed the remaining branch of Titan grapes back into the bowl. “Ms. Drumworm and your nanas also share similar tastes—knitting, drinking—”

“—and gossiping,” the three of them chorused, chuckling.

Tyeon picked up a plate of goat cheese biscuits, offering everyone some. “So where are your folks, Augum?”

Augum caught a look of concern from Bridget as she took a sip of juice. He picked out a biscuit. “Actually I’m an orphan, but since I’ve never met my parents, I don’t think about them much.” He surprised himself with his candor, but had a good feeling about Tyeon. If Bridget trusted him, why shouldn’t he?

Tyeon dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known.”

“Being an orphan is nothing to be ashamed of,” Bridget said.

“Maybe he’s a forgotten war child,” Leera said. “You know, a survivor from the Narsinian War.”

Tyeon shook his head. “He can’t be, the war ended when Mrs. Stone vanquished Narsus in 3324—sixteen years ago. Forgive me, but you don’t look sixteen, Augum.”

Leera turned to scavenge for more sweets, muttering, “Bookworm …”

Augum helped himself to a honeyed almond. “Fourteen, actually.”

“Look at that, we’re all the same age.” Tyeon rubbed his forearm. “I should feed Warbeak soon.”

“That’s his hawk,” Leera said. “I have a kitten named Skibbles. Bridget’s family has like, fifty dogs—”

“—three,” Bridget corrected.

Leera acted as if she had not heard. “Do you have any pets, Augum?”

Augum thought of Meli dying underneath him, feeling the sting of the lash as it came down again and again and—

“Augum?”

“Huh? What? Oh. No, no pets.”

“Speaking of which, Bridget just got a puppy.” Leera turned to her. “Name him yet?”

“Blinky,” Bridget replied absently, curling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Tyeon asked when she did not elaborate.

“I was just wondering how she did it … how Mrs. Stone defeated Narsus and escaped alive. Father said everyone thought he was unstoppable.”

“You should ask her, Augum,” Leera said, plucking a cherry from a cheesecake.

“Doubt she’d tell me,” he replied, watching the crowd buzz around Mrs. Stone. She looked like she regretted coming along; her lips were thinner than a needle, her answers short.

Soon a squat old man with massive overgrown eyebrows started shooing everyone away from her. He was balding and wore a regal robe with a fat golden sash that hung loosely across his chest. He flashed insincere smiles as he barked at people to move; they jumped out of his way as if bitten by a small angry dog.

The crowd slowly dispersed, most going to sit by the fire to talk with each other, some coming to the tables for refreshment, and some, like Ms. Drumworm, still feebly trying to get Mrs. Stone’s attention. The old man finally bared his teeth at her and she scurried away with a yelp.

Leera elbowed Augum. “That shriveled parchment there, that’s Lord Alexander Scott Tennyson, Chief Elder and Haylee’s grandfather.”

“He’s a right old grouch,” Bridget said under her breath. “Hates everyone except his precious granddaughter.”

Tyeon nodded. “I heard that as a high-ranking noble in Blackhaven, he sold street kids to the mines.”

“That’s just a rumor, Tye,” Bridget said. “Not even Lord Tennyson could be that cruel.”

Leera and Tyeon exchanged a look saying otherwise.

Lord Tennyson raised his nose, placed his arms behind his back and loudly cleared his throat. “Everyone, if I might have your attention—”

A few people went quiet but most continued chatting on.

A sour look crossed Tennyson’s face. He opened his palm and shot a bright ice-like sphere into the air. The globe kept expanding until it suddenly burst with a tremendous bang.

“Shut it, people!” he said, bulldog jowls quivering. The crowd instantly went silent.

“Right. Now then—” and he paused for effect, making sure all eyes were indeed on him. “I know how momentous the news is that Mrs. Stone is alive and well—”

People hooted, whistled and toasted to Mrs. Stone.

Tennyson raised a hand again. “And I daresay that we are most pleased that she decided to visit our humble little village.”

More cheers, murmurs of approval. Mrs. Stone’s lips thinned to the point of disappearing. Lord Tennyson grasped her elbow with claw-like fingers. “Now, I know many of you wish to have a word with Mrs. Stone—perhaps inquire about how she gloriously vanquished Narsus the Necromancer, or even ask where she has been all these years—” Tennyson gave her a greedy look as the crowd tittered appreciatively, “—but I am afraid I must insist that we give her ample space. Mrs. Stone is merely here to enjoy the ceremony as a friendly neighbor, and we should therefore not distress her with our niggling questions. After all, someone in such … high esteem … deserves nothing but our respect.” Tennyson eyed Ms. Drumworm with a distasteful look.

“Now my dear Mrs. Stone,” Tennyson continued, thick brows twitching, “I’d like to say, on behalf of the village and the elder council, that we most heartily accept your apprentice—Yogurt—as a pupil in our humble school.”

A bunch of people started laughing, Robin’s group loudest of all.

Augum sighed. Great …

Bridget’s father ran up and whispered something into the old man’s ear.

“What—? How do you say it again?”

“Aww—gum, rhymes with bottom.”

More snickers.

“What kind of name is that? Oh, all right all right, buzz off, Mustache.” Tennyson swatted Mr. Burns away before turning back to the crowd with a pandering smile. “My apologies, everyone. I’m an old man, hearing’s not too good you see; apparently the boy’s name is … Augum? Anyway, welcome to the school, uh, Augum.”

There was much hooting, clapping and toasting, with some booing from the vicinity of Robin, Haylee and Dilbur.

Tyeon shook Augum’s hand. “Congratulations.”

“Yes, glad to have you with us,” Bridget said, smiling heartily.

Leera lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Welcome.”

Augum caught Robin’s eye. “Nice job, Yogurt,” Robin mouthed with a wink.

Augum ignored him. A warm sensation settled over his entire being—he had made friends and was going to an arcane school with them!

Betrayed

Lord Tennyson held up his hands. “And now I would like the elder council to join me in commencing the village naming ceremony.”

The crowd stirred as four other elderly people emerged, silver sashes strung across their chests. Mrs. Stone shuffled over to the food table where Augum and the others stood, helping herself to a branch of Titan grapes, a tired look on her face.

Bridget nodded at a large woman with pink cheeks and a pert nose. “That’s my nana.” She nodded at an ebony-skinned woman with curly gray hair. “And that one’s Tye’s.” Two other elders, a squat man with double chins and a bald man with a pinched face, joined Bridget and Tyeon’s grandmothers.

Augum focused on the man with the pinched face. “Is that—?”

“—Robin’s grandpa, yes.”

Lord Tennyson corralled the elders into a line. The group hooked hands and began a rumbling chant. Silver wisps emerged from between them and swirled around the crowd before circling the village. The chanting grew in intensity until Lord Tennyson broke his grip and held up a veined arm. The crowd gasped and went quiet.

“I now declare the name of this village to be … Sparrow’s Perch!”

Cheers and toasts erupted; Augum exchanged smiles with his new friends. The elders disbanded and the crowd moved in, buzzing with excitement. Augum happened to be looking at Lord Tennyson when he noticed him signal to the trees.

He turned to Bridget. “Did you see—” but before he could even finish, a tumultuous crashing came from the woods. Black-armored soldiers with massive physiques and rough faces emerged on horseback, brandishing swords, axes, maces and spears. Behind them came more riders—gargantuan crimson-armored warriors wielding burning swords and wearing flat helms pierced with two horizontal slits. They rode dead-looking horses with sharp teeth and bloody eyes.

Augum felt a chill as Bridget’s words echoed in his brain—the Red Guard … you see one, you’re not going to live to tell about it.

The shouting and screaming began immediately.

“Save yourselves, it’s the Legion!”

“Don’t let anyone escape!”

“The children, grab the children!”

“Death to the insurgents!”

Tyeon ran for his family. Leera and Bridget were about to do the same when a Black Guardsman reared his steed before them. Augum instinctively shoved the girls aside as the horse came down, narrowly missing his head. He looked up to see the soldier release a spiked ball and chain.

Augum froze, skin prickling. The man swung the flail in a wide arc. Suddenly there was a bright flash and a sharp cracking sound. The rider landed with a dull thud beside him, armor smoking. The scent of burnt flesh filled Augum’s nostrils, turning his stomach. He scrambled to his feet as Mrs. Stone stepped forward, arcs of lightning connecting with objects around her. She stood rigid, brows hawk-like, the space around her warping. She pointed at Augum and spoke an arcane phrase. A shimmering electric sphere appeared around him, Bridget and Leera, trapping them inside.

“Mum, Dad—run!” Leera screamed while Bridget shrieked for her family.

But there was nowhere to go; knights and soldiers surrounded them, circling like wolves. The villagers crowded around the fire, backs to each other. Tyeon shielded his blind grandfather, a stooped man with a cane who had to hold on to Tyeon’s arm. A short balding man with dimpled cheeks held onto Leland, a bespectacled woman in a flowery dress by his side.

“Prepare for battle!” Bridget’s grandmother said, green rings flaring to life just past her elbow. A colorful assortment of striped arms quickly joined the resistance. Nobody moved to attack, however. Only Mrs. Stone, a rippling field of electric blue, stood apart.