Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1) (37 page)

“NO—!” Augum screamed, charging at Rames who, with a quick word, became enveloped in shimmering black armor—just in time to stop Burden’s Edge from piercing his gut. Rames fixed Augum with a triumphant look before his eyes flitted right. A second thrust came, this one from Bridget. Rames simply stood there, mouth puckered in a grin, confident his arcane armor would stop a paltry dagger.

The small Dreadnought piercing blade punctured the shimmering armor as if it was butter, striking flesh beneath. The armor instantly vanished along with the lightning bands around Rames’ arm. He roared, his hand shooting to the wound, while Bridget and Augum jumped clear.

Rames stared at the trio, his formerly electric eyes now glassy and black. Then without removing his gaze from Augum, he gripped the dagger, winced, and yanked it out. It dropped to the snow, staining it with blood.

Rames tried to straighten. He glared at them then abruptly stumbled and fell backwards. Augum immediately retrieved his sword while Leera lunged for the dagger, shouting, “Back inside!”

Bridget was already at the stone door, desperately trying to open it with her fingernails. The sound of horses was very close now.

Rames moaned behind them. His voice slurred as if he had been drinking. “My pets … where are my pets … hey now … just where … just where do you think you are going?” He raised his arm, revealing a robe slick with blood. For a moment, Augum was afraid he would cast another spell, but nothing happened. Rames gazed at his palm, a quizzical expression on his face.

Augum turned his attention to the door. “Let me try—”

Bridget got out of the way as he raised his palm. In his mind, he saw the door open wide—and with a grinding noise, it quickly did. The three then scrambled inside, Bridget first followed by Leera and Augum. The last thing Augum saw were shadows jumping down into the house—his foot made contact with a snapping snout. There was no time to even close the door.

The trio scuttled like rats from a fire. It was pitch-black and dirt flew into Augum’s eyes and mouth, yet he did not care; his only thought now was to reach the castle and raise the alarm. Something entered the passage behind, growling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He thought of Burden’s Edge but it would be impossible to draw it in such a cramped space.

A green light flared to life ahead joined by a watery blue one—Bridget and Leera had made it out. At last, it was his turn to squeeze through the opening. He slammed the stone door on a furry head with red eyes. It yelped then resumed snapping its jaws. He kicked it back through the opening, slammed the door again, and bolted after the girls, who were calling for him to hurry.

Upon reaching the wine cellar door, a tremendous crumbling noise began from the tunnel, as if something very big was trying to squeeze through. Meanwhile, there was a crash and a growl inside the room.

Augum spun around. “Shyneo!” At the edge of his light padded a hellhound. It stopped and began squealing like a wounded animal, gurgling and vomiting.

The trio screamed as the pile of guts it puked out started growing into another hellhound.

“RUN—!” he yelled, pushing them to go. As soon as they were clear of the room though, he had a better idea. He turned around, raised his palm, and slammed the door shut with Telekinesis—just in time to hear two bangs from the other side.

“Won’t be able to hold it long; get Mrs. Stone!” He refocused on the door.

“I’m staying, Bridge, you go!” Leera said, handing Bridget her dagger back. “GO!”

Bridget ran off while he concentrated on keeping the door shut. Every time the hellhounds slammed into it, he felt his telekinetic grip weaken. Leera was soon beside him, arm raised, sharp brows crossed with concentration.

They managed to keep the door closed for the time being, but Augum knew it could not last. Besides, something much bigger was on the way. Another idea came to him.

“Keep holding it,” he said, breaking his connection and drawing his sword. He ran up beside the door. “Shyneo!” His hand crackled to life as he raised the Dreadnought blade over his head. “Ready? NOW!”

Leera dived out of the way. The door careened open and one of the beasts lunged through—only to be sliced in half in midair, the two parts flopping to the ground, dead.

“Watch for the second one, Aug!”

The other hound slunk forward through the doorway, baring black teeth and growling. Augum backed up, Burden’s Edge before him, its length glistening. Leera was just behind, edging along, one hand on his back, the other lit with glowing water.

“Steady, Aug … keep backing up … steady now … almost at the stairs …”

When they reached the steps, harsh voices began yelling from the wine cellar. Augum, however, kept his gaze locked with the remaining hellhound. The beast was at some sort of stalemate with him; it did not lunge as long as he kept his eyes on it, blade interposed between, the blood of its kin dripping from the edge.

Just as they reached the top of the stairs, they heard the sound of running from the servant hallway.

“Get ready to jump out of the way,” Leera whispered into his ear. “Steady … steady … and … NOW!”

Augum jumped back and away just as Sir Gallows hurled himself at the hellhound. Because Augum kept his eyes locked with the beast’s, the hellhound was too late in reacting to Gallows’ sword slash. Gutted, it squealed while flopping down the stairs, stopping in a silent heap at the bottom.

“More coming—” Augum blurted to Gallows while helping Leera up. “The Nightsword—traitor—”

Gallows fixed him with a grave look. His eyes were shiny with ale. “Stop jabbering, son. Upstairs and double-quick. I shall hold them off.”

Augum wanted to explain but a gargantuan crimson-armored Red Guard appeared at the bottom of the stairs, stepping over the hellhound without breaking its gaze. It held a flaming sword in one hand and a shield with the Legion emblem in the other. As it climbed, it stared at Augum through two horizontal slits piercing a flat helm. A prickle went up Augum’s spine as he sat transfixed, unable to decide what to do. In fact, he felt possessed by hesitation.

“What are you waiting for, boy—run!”

Leera grabbed Augum’s arm and pulled him through the doorway. “What are you doing, come on!”

Breaking eye contact with the Red Guard seemed to do the trick. He ran, leaving Sir Gallows behind. When they reached the foyer, moonlight filtered in through open doors. A cold draft sent a shiver through him, but there was no time to wonder why the castle was sitting open and exposed like that. They bolted up the marble stairs and almost crashed into Sir Edrian Castor and the two Brack brothers, who smelled strongly of ale, their faces anxious.

“Sir Gallows needs help below—” Leera said in a panicked voice.

“Just get to the top!” Castor said, skipping a few steps at a time with each stride.

“Damn it, they’re all drunk,” Leera said, watching one of the brothers stumble.

They continued racing upstairs. As they passed the third floor, Augum noted Fentwick’s absence. Suddenly the door from the girls’ room opened and Bridget emerged, slinging a rucksack over her shoulder.

“Bridge—? What are you doing here?” Leera asked.

“Oh thank—you’re okay! I grabbed the book, just in case we leave the castle—”

“Have you seen Mrs. Stone?”

“I think she went outside—the Legion have the castle surrounded.”

Frantic shouts rang up from below.

Bridget ran to the banister. “They’re all waiting upstairs, come on—”

The trio made their way to the fifth floor where they stopped dead in their tracks. There at the top of the stairs stood the Nightsword and Sir Dollard Canes, their swords drawn. The Nightsword was still obviously drunk; he wavered and looked very pale. Sir Canes, however, appeared ready for battle, his curly hair bouncing. He gave Augum a surprised look upon seeing him, then stepped aside, gesturing to the prince’s room.

Augum hesitated. Should he say something now? If he told Canes the Nightsword was a traitor, would he believe him in time to react?

The Nightsword adjusted the grip on his sword. Augum recalled how the man had expertly brandished Burden’s Edge earlier.

“Go on then,” The Nightsword croaked. “They’re waiting for you.”

The trio slunk by, Augum trying to use his eyes to communicate what he had learned to Canes. Canes’ face changed and he seemed to give the slightest nod; but did he really understand? Augum judged it too risky to do anything else, not without more men at least.

They brushed past Fentwick, who stood guard outside the prince’s room (“Wouldst thou fancy a duel—”) and entered, finding a crowd of surprised faces framed in moonlight. A hastily dressed Prince Sydo stood holding his royal sword, looking too small for it. Lord Boron stood beside him, dabbing his brow with a cloth. Gertrude Grinds stood stiff as a board, frowning. More than a few loose hairs poked out from her bun. Beside her, Rafinda stood holding young Mandy in comfort. Lastly, there was Mya, who still looked as delicate and soft as a spring flower. Her almond eyes registered fear when they first entered, then relief. Augum had the overwhelming urge to go to her and say something kind and brave and—

“Where have you been—?” Ms. Grinds barked. “We have been searching all over for you—”

Augum did not know how to reply, nor did he want to tell them that he and the girls were responsible for the castle being breached. “Where’s Mrs. Stone?” he asked instead.

“Why, I imagine she is outside defending the castle from the Legion.”

Augum’s eyes instinctively went to the window, but it was no good—an outer balcony blocked the view.

“Is … is Sparkstone out there?” He did not want to call him
Father
.

“And just how am I supposed to know
that
, child?”

Suddenly there was a commotion in the hallway. Everybody fell silent as the trio backed away from the door, Augum distinctly aware of his proximity to Mya. Had Canes made a move? Had the Nightsword?

From the other side came the sound of a gasp, then shuffling footsteps. Fentwick began to speak when the door flew open, revealing the Nightsword, face as pale as death.

This is it, he’s come for us, Augum thought, raising his blade.

The Nightsword opened his mouth to speak but only blood poured out. Suddenly a wet black claw ejected from his belly. People screamed as Augum realized it was a sword. The Nightsword looked down as the blade twisted and removed itself. He gave them a stunned look, staggered, and fell forward.

Sir Dollard Canes stood in the doorway, a wild and victorious look on his face.

“Sir Canes—!” Lord Boron said. “But … what have you done!”

Canes examined his sword as if for the first time. “I do believe I have slain the famous Nightsword …”

“What is the meaning of this?” Sydo asked. “Canes—explain yourself!”

“It is
Sir Canes
to you, you little brat.”

“How dare—”

“Silence—!” Canes held up a hand as he took a deep breath, eyes closed. When he opened them, they were trained on the prince. “Oh, how liberating it is to speak freely again. I have spent years pretending to be you and your father’s lackey.”

“You—
you’re
the traitor?” Augum asked.

“The Lord of the Legion promises eternity to those deserving. Yes, I am the one who sent word of our location, and yes, I am the one that opened the doors for his hellhounds when a certain opportunity arose.” His eyes fell upon Bridget, who swallowed hard.

“But your royal oath …” the prince said in a whiny voice.

Canes laughed. “My royal oath … I look forward to cracking your skull, you little damn—”

“Sir! Have you no shame?” Lord Boron asked, brow quivering.

Canes laughed harder. “Shame … oh, dear me, shame …
you
speak to me of shame, you cowardly hog.”

Lord Boron’s face reddened but he fell silent.

“How did they get in?” Grinds asked. “This castle was supposed to be protected by … by magic!”

“It’s
arcane
, you old wench. You should know that, even if you’re as
ordinary
as I am. Yes, the crone was wise enough to restrict just who had the ability to invite strangers beyond her arcane boundary. As far as I understood it, only these three had that privilege.” He nodded at the trio.

Augum felt his stomach drop to his foot. He heard Leera swallow beside him.

“That ambush on the way to this castle,” Sydo said, “it has always seemed suspicious to me. You had something to do with it, did you not?”

“Indeed I had. I arranged for that little surprise as a convenient way of thinning the ranks. It was unfortunate I received an arrow wound, but I suppose it only helped conceal me. I really have you to thank though, my half-wit spoiled brat of a prince. You allowed me to report on your position all along, as well as the position of your allies. For that, you have my gratitude. As for your drunken allies, I assure you they will have all been wiped out by now.”

“You traitorous dog, I shall have your head on a spike!”

Canes’ eyes flashed as they drew upon the prince. “I have been waiting to carve that flesh of yours a long, long time,
Your
Highness
…” He raised his sword and took a step forward into the room.

“Fentwick, defend us from Sir Dollard Canes!” Bridget called.

Canes immediately received a thump from behind. He spun to face the enchanted suit of armor.

“Hark, knave, villain, foe!” Fentwick screeched. “Hark, for thou shalt lament thy deceitful ways!”

“Aug, over here!” Leera said amidst the chaos. She and Mya were kneeling over the floor in the corner of the room. “It’s camouflaged!”

He rushed over and instantly knew what she had found—a secret hatch to an emergency escape room.

“Help me open it,” Leera said. Groping about, the three of them managed to find the handle and pulled—only to have it snap clean off. They resorted to using their fingernails, but the weight of the door was too great.