Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1) (38 page)

“Bridge, your dagger—” Augum said over his shoulder.

Bridget drew her dagger and jammed it between the hatch and the floor. Then, using it like a wedge, lifted it just enough for them to grab hold.

“Get in!” Augum said, waving to the confused throng. Rafinda and Mandy were the first to run over, Mandy in such a crying panic she had to be helped down. Augum gestured for Bridget, Leera and Mya to go next. Lastly, he called out to Sydo and Ms. Grinds, hoping that Lord Boron could hold the door long enough for them to get down.

Suddenly something huge began slamming against the door. It was then Augum knew Fentwick had fallen; his heart gave a sharp pang.

With each thrust, Boron, Grinds and Sydo were sent flying back. The moment Sydo noticed the hatch, however, he abandoned the defense and scrambled down the shaft without a backward glance.

“Ms. Grinds, hurry!” Augum shouted.

“Liberai!” Bridget yelled below.

“It didn’t work!” Leera said. “Try another one!”

“Do something you filthy peasant wenches!”

An even louder bang from the door drew Augum’s attention.

“Go ahead, Gertrude, I think I can hold it—” Lord Boron said.

Ms. Grinds gave him a knowing look before she raced to the escape hatch. She began climbing down then spied Augum. “You too, child—come!”

“But what about Lord Bor—”

“—there’s no time!” and she made a grab for him just as the door exploded. Augum covered his face to protect from flying splinters. When he looked again, Ms. Grinds was gone and Lord Boron lay still, face bloody and eyes open. Giant crimson warriors with burning swords entered the room, stepping over his body with great armored boots.

One reached out to Augum. He dodged and fell straight down the hatch. On the way, his left arm caught on the lip. He felt a sickening crack just before slamming into the ground on his side. The world shrunk to the size of an apple.

A female voice called out his name as the blur of a burning sword appeared above. “Liberai!” another voice shouted.

A vicious wind kicked up as a hand grabbed him. There was a hissing noise and a woman screamed. Someone thrashed nearby before falling still. He could not see through the blinding pain, the fire, the heat …

Another hand grabbed him, this one far stronger. There was a brief struggle between the two grips, one steel and one desperate but soft, until something ripped. His stomach rammed his throat as he fell into darkness.

Arinthian

When Augum came to, he was lying face down in a thick layer of dust. It was pitch-black, his head throbbed, and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He winced struggling to sit up. Something moved nearby.

“Who’s there—?” he whispered.

“Shyneo,” said a quiet voice. Leera’s frightened face lit up in a weak glow. “Augum, is that you—?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so glad—I thought for sure they had you. Wait, you’re hurt—”

He glanced at his limp arm, the sleeve of the robe almost shorn off. “I’m all right,” he lied. Even looking at his arm, bent awkwardly like that, made him feel light-headed. The pressure and the jagged pain increased with every movement. He had to look away, peering about at what appeared to be a forest of large stone blocks.

“Where are we? Where are the others?” he asked.

“Don’t know. I panicked; must have taken the wrong portal. A Red Guard jumped down and … and … Oh, Augum … it killed Ms. Grinds … and … and then it grabbed you … I didn’t have time … it was all I could—” She began sobbing. “This is all my fault … if I’d only grabbed Rames’ blade or something.”

“No, no it’s not. We had no choice.
You
had no choice.” He cradled her with his good arm. She sniffed into his torn robe. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Come on, we have to get out of here …”

He grit his teeth as they helped each other stand. “Shyneo,” he said, but the grinding pressure pain in his arm made it near impossible to concentrate; his palm refused to light. He took a closer look at the stones, noticing words carved into them. He felt a slow chill creep up his spine. “I think we’re in the crypt,” he whispered.

A hand shot to Leera’s mouth as she froze, eyes flitting. They listened to the darkness—complete silence, as if they were in some deep cave.

She padded to a tombstone and read the inscription. “‘Tredius Arinthian … died in combat against Edius the Great on the seventh day of the twelfth month in the 2381st year.’ Augum—that’s almost a thousand years ago!”

“Arinthian … does that name sound familiar to you?”

“It does now that you mention it, but I can’t remember from where … I bet Bridget would know. Oh, Aug, I hope she’s okay—”

“Me too …”

They moved past a few more tombstones, reading them as they walked. They came in all kinds of shapes and sizes—pillars, obelisks, stone coffins and vaults. All were highly ornate and all bore the last name
Arinthian
.

They stumbled around in the dark for a while, trying to find a way out. The chamber was so vast they had yet to see a wall, though they did come across massive support columns not unlike the ones in the cellar.

Suddenly they heard wind somewhere behind them, followed by a dull thud. Leera immediately extinguished her palm and the pair froze, listening. Coughing mixed with a loud growl reverberated amongst the tombs. The cavern dispersed the sound in a strange way, making it difficult to locate exactly where it came from.

“You might as well come to me or I’ll send my pet along!” Rames called, spitting with a moan. “I know you can hear me. Surrender to me now and I promise to spare her life, Augum.”

“Let’s run,” Leera whispered, grabbing his good arm. “Maybe we can find a way out—”

“Just wait.” It was difficult to think with the pain. “The hellhound will jump us from behind if we run. Let’s climb one of the tombs. I’ll kill it with Burden’s Edge before it can get us, then at least we stand a chance against him. After all, he’s injured.”

She took a moment to think about it while Rames kept calling for them. “All right, but we better hurry …”

They quietly felt around until they found a stone coffin that was the right height. They clambered on top, no easy task with a broken arm. Then they watched and waited. In the distance, about fifteen rows away, a blue light advanced in their direction, casting dagger-like shadows across the rough ceiling.

Kneeling on top of someone’s grave made Augum distinctly aware of his father’s pursuit of necromancy. He hoped the dead stayed dead and tried to avoid looking into the dark abyss that seemed to stretch in all directions. Suddenly he realized something.

“Leera—take my sword,” he whispered. “Take it, I’ve only got one good arm, and you’re better than me anyway.”

“Oh, um, all right …” She took the blade, her hand shaking as much as his. Augum wanted to say something brave and final, something true, but Rames was too close. He sounded like he was limping.

“You smell something girl?” Rames said only a few rows away. “Yes, they’re near, aren’t they?”

The hellhound growled.

Augum could almost see Rames licking his lips in satisfaction. He braced himself, Leera tensing beside him, their breathing quick and shallow now. Suddenly there was the rapid sound of four running feet even though Rames’ light was still a row away.

The moment had come.

One day, you may have to perform such a spell in the din of battle, with plenty to distract you
, he remembered Mrs. Stone saying. He ignored the needling pain in his arm and focused.

“SHYNEO!”

His hand lit up the jaws of a hellhound lunging right at him. He barely had enough time to raise his arm in defense when he heard the neat slice of Burden’s Edge. Blood splattered on his cheek as the hellhound yelped and tumbled to the ground. There was no time to dwell on what happened as Rames’ lightning palm appeared from around a pillar.

Without thinking, Augum leapt into the air, shouting some kind of garbled war cry. Rames caught him like a sack of spuds.

Augum, desperate to hold on, did the only thing he could think of—he used his electrified palm to find the wound Blackbite made earlier, and concentrated on shocking the man. Rames shook and screamed, stumbling about as if blind and on fire. He slammed Augum into a massive mausoleum. Augum cried out in pain and let go, falling to the ground, hand extinguishing.

Rames stood over him, huffing. “Vicious little brat—” He raised his palm and opened his mouth to cast a spell when a claw suddenly pierced his chest. For a brief moment, Augum saw the Nightsword before him, impaled in the same way.

Gurgling blood, Rames gave Augum an incredulous look before falling sideways through the doorway of the mausoleum. In his place stood a panting Leera, hand outstretched in midair as if she still held the sword that lay buried in Rames’ back.

“Thought I was done for,” Augum said, eyeing the blood on her hands. “You all right?”

Leera just stared at him a moment. “I just … I just killed someone.”

“And you saved our lives doing it.”

She stood frozen like that until seeing his arm; she snapped out of it and offered him a hand. “And you, you all right?”

Wincing, he let her drag him to his feet. “I think so …”

The pair just stood there, staring at the body. Augum squeezed Leera’s shoulder. Before he knew it, she was in his arms, giving a tight hug, shaking like a spring leaf.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Come on.” He let her go and stepped over the body into the mausoleum, where he pulled Burden’s Edge from Rames’ back and wiped the blade clean.

Leera still stared at the body.

“Lee?”

“Mmm?”

“You going to be all right?”

“Mmm.”

“You sure?”

She glanced at him with those dark eyes. “I never killed someone before …”

“Let’s hope you never have to again.”

She nodded and took a deep breath before looking up. “Hey—look what’s on the front of this place.”

He stepped back outside and craned his neck. On the front of the mausoleum was a giant letter “A”, identical to the many they saw throughout the castle.

“Let’s explore it quickly,” he said, and the two went back inside.

“This place is amazing,” Leera whispered upon spying the ornately gilded ceiling. “Must have been someone important; and look here, there are portals.” She gestured at a series of engravings on the walls, but Augum’s attention was elsewhere. A large stone plaque rested above a golden sarcophagus at the end of the room. Above the plaque, gilded in bronze, was the same intricate letter “A”. Augum solemnly read the inscription aloud.

Here lieth Atrius Arinthian

Borneth thy second day of thy second month in thy 1513th year

Husband to Atreya Sinthius Arinthian

Father of seven

Builder of herein Castle Arinthian

Master of thee element of lightning

First possessor of thee lightning scion

Slayer of Occulus thee Necromancer and proclaimed King of Solia in reward

Besought to renounce Sithesia for thee Ley in his 71st year

Built thy first portal to thee realm of thee Ley within these here castle walls

Chose to be the last man to lay eyes upon a living Dreadnought

Died a natural death on thy fifth day in the eighth month of thy 1849th year, aged 336

Passed in peace surrounded by thee beloved

“Thus I bequeath, with love fulfilled.”

— A

“Augum, he’s—”

“I know, I remember now,” he said quietly, fingers tracing the raised lettering.

“That means this is Castle Arinthian—”

“—the castle of my great ancestor, yes. You know what the strangest part is?”

“What?”

“He shares my birthday.”

“You were born on the same day—?”

“Yes, second day of the second month, just 1813 years later, if my arithmetic is correct.” Sir Westwood always stressed how important arithmetic was.

“I just got goose bumps,” Leera said. “What do you think it means that you two have the same birthday?”

“I have no idea.”

After a thoughtful pause, she added, “Must have been hard …”

“You mean living back then?”

“No, I mean, watching his loving wife age and pass on …”

Augum nodded, a strange ache in his heart. They stood in respectful silence for a little while.

“This part is interesting,” Leera said, pointing. “‘Built thy first portal to thee realm of thee Ley within these here castle walls.’”

“So Ley isn’t just legend after all … It must be the portal Mrs. Stone and Sir Gallows were talking about. Where do you think it is?”

They searched each other’s eyes.

“The note you found under the bed, what did it say again?”

He quickly dug it out of his robe. They read one particular section together.

“‘We tried everything known on the fountain, yet still it refused to yield.’”

They locked eyes before chorusing, “The fountain!”

“Of course!” Leera said. “That’s what Narsus had been after—the entrance to the land of the Ley! The statue of the peaceful-looking man was a clue—the fountain
is
the portal!”

“We have to get there,” he said, stuffing the note into his torn robe. “Mrs. Stone warned Sir Gallows they might have to use it if the castle was infiltrated.”

“They just better not have left without us—”

They rushed over to the etchings.

“Shyneo,” Leera said, lighting her palm and placing it over the oval with the fountain. “Liberai!”

A black hole appeared in the wall with a sizzle, instantly blowing wind from its gaping maw.

She waved. “You go first!”

Augum jumped. He felt his body stretch as if being pulled apart by teams of oxen. The portal spit him out onto a mossy path, nauseous and dizzy, arm throbbing. Leera landed beside him and the portal collapsed with a sucking sound. Leaves and branches calmed as the wind died away. Then there was silence, except for the quiet trickle of water.

“Did we take the wrong portal?” he whispered, pushing a thorny flower from his face.

“It’s the arcane forest room.”

“Oh, right.”

“Shyneo.” Leera’s palm lit up.