Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  I didn’t know what to say, and neither did Theasin.

  Everyone remained quiet as Adelgis continued with his disturbing conclusions.

  “And while I can understand using the remains of a dead mystical creature to craft trinkets and artifacts, I don’t agree with decimating an entire species for your own personal use.” Adelgis shook his head. “You altered the Grotto Labyrinth so that no one else could get to the center chamber. You killed those khepera to steal their sands. That was how you healed my injury.”

  Theasin lifted a calculated eyebrow, his lip twitching into half a smile. “You’ve done quite a bit of sleuthing. More than I thought you capable of.”

  He didn’t even deny it. Despite being faced with someone who knew all his crimes, Theasin replied without a hint of remorse. I almost couldn’t believe how callously he conducted himself.

  And it pained me to think that Theasin Venrover—a scholar, an artificer, a professor—a man who had dedicated himself to mystical creature research, would use his vast amount of knowledge for this purpose.

  Adelgis steadied himself with a deep breath. “You’re a member of the Second Ascension, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” Theasin stated.

  Of course. That was his response—of course.

  I darkly chuckled to myself. Only someone like Theasin would claim membership to that organization as though it were the obvious choice.

  Which meant the Excavation Site was probably the property of the Second Ascension. The workers, the arcanists—this was their operation. All of it.

  “Why?” Adelgis asked.

  “They’re the only ones with the courage and innovation to usher us into a new future. The return of gods was inevitable, they’re just controlling the process, and I intend to be there when the first of these all mighty beasts appear again.”

  Although I had wanted to give Adelgis the chance to confront his father, the last few statements threw me right back into a rage. I stepped forward, past Adelgis and into Theasin’s line of sight. With gritted teeth, I said, “The Second Ascension is responsible for assassinating Queen Velleta, throwing the Argo Empire into turmoil, and—worst of all—spreading the arcane plague. You don’t give a damn? About any of that?”

  “It wasn’t my hand that brought about those deeds,” Theasin said.

  “You helped create their decay dust! If it hadn’t been for that, those people in Thronehold wouldn’t have lost their lives.”

  “It must be difficult for you,” Theasin drawled. “But you should understand that some of us are capable of seeing the bigger picture. Sometimes sacrifices must be made by the masses to better the world.”

  I didn’t need to hear anymore.

  In one forceful motion, I unsheathed Retribution and took a combat stance. Luthair lifted from the shadows and coalesced around me, forming into hard plate armor. His cold power added to mine—and so did his rage. He wasn’t a calming presence this time. We both knew Theasin had to pay for his crimes.

  The rubbish in the room stirred. It lifted up, one broken bit at a time, as though held with invisible strings. Glass clattered, metal rattled, and the form of a dragon took shape as the pieces fitted themselves together like a bizarre puzzle. Wispy magical threads bound the relickeeper’s many broken fragments. Stained glass shards made up its fangs, and copper flakes made the scales of its “face.” When the relickeeper lifted its tail, I caught sight of the jagged wrought-iron spikes—pointed ornaments that looked like they had been stolen from a fence.

  With the addition of the trash dragon, Fain moved to my side, a subtle misting of frost coating the nearby tables. His frostbitten fingers were clenched so tight that blood dripped from his palms. Karna stepped away, inching closer to the doors.

  Theasin’s mouth curled in disgust. “You’d attack me? Your only hope for salvation? I suppose that fits the mentality of a plague-ridden arcanist.”

  His comment stilled my attack.

  I hadn’t yet been cured.

  Adelgis placed a hand on the shadow-plate covering my shoulder. “Volke, please. Wait.”

  When the relickeeper moved, it created a cacophony of scratching and rattling. The beast stepped closer to Theasin, flashing its sharp “teeth.” Fortunately, the warehouse-like building had a tall ceiling. The relickeeper stood at least thirteen feet at the shoulder, its patchwork body jagged and bulky.

  Theasin motioned for his eldrin to move away. “Calm yourself, Essellian. These arcanists traveled quite a distance to get here. They’re not going to do anything to risk losing the prize they came for. Are you?”

  My arcanist, Luthair spoke telepathically. He’s the only one who can cure you.

  I didn’t need to be reminded.

  But still—I couldn’t lower my weapon. I couldn’t bring myself to attack, either.

  Theasin must’ve sensed my dilemma, because he chortled and relaxed his tense shoulders. He twirled the vial in his hands. It was empty. I thought it had been the cure, but perhaps I had jumped to conclusions.

  “Unmerge with your eldrin,” Theasin commanded. “Or else we’ll have to play out this skirmish.”

  Adelgis again turned to me. “Please, Volke. Just for now.”

  I hated doing anything for Theasin. A small piece of me wanted to run my blade through his chest and forsake the cure, all because he thought he could control me with a threat. In the end, it was Luthair who unmerged from me—had Luthair decided he wanted me cured more than he wanted to bring the villain into justice?

  Losing his power shook me a bit, like I had lost his support in the matter.

  Even Fain backed down, no longer angry enough to ice the surrounding area.

  I lowered my blade.

  Theasin forced a tight smile. “There’s no need for unnecessary violence. I’m impressed enough with Adelgis that I’ll cure you, but only on two conditions.”

  “Out with it,” I growled. Rage twisted my insides. I knew I’d hate whatever conditions he named.

  “First, I want a sample of your blood.” He held up the empty vial. “For research purposes.”

  “No.”

  “Come now. I can get plague-tainted blood whenever I want. What’s the difference if I have a little more?”

  With gritted teeth, I gestured for him to name the second condition.

  “You’ll need to be sedated,” he said. “The man who will cure you is the abyssal leech arcanist, and I don’t want him to know you dislike and distrust the Second Ascension. Once you’re cured, I’ll keep you here, asleep but alive, until the last of the apoch dragon has been excavated. Only then can I risk you returning to the Frith Guild.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  Who knew how long that would take? I’d be helpless. Relickeeper arcanists could keep creatures in a suspended stasis for quite some time, paralyzed and unable to escape.

  “I’ll make this simple for you,” Theasin said, sardonic. “Either comply with my conditions or suffer the fate of all plague-ridden arcanists. It really doesn’t matter to me.”

  Adelgis moved closer, his cold demeanor returning. “Father—you can’t expect us to stay here.”

  “Yes, I can. You’ve made your stance on the Second Ascension clear, and I can’t have you running to the master arcanists in your guild. It’s either this or conflict. And trust me, you aren’t even aware of half the arcanists stationed at this site. You’ll never leave here alive.”

  A war raged inside of me as I weighed all the options. I could have Theasin cure me at the cost of allowing the Second Ascension to continue with their dastardly plots. Or I could fight the man. Theasin was probably right—we’d all likely die. Could I do that to Fain, Adelgis, and Karna? The only reason they had come here was because of me.

  I supposed the third option was attempting to escape. Perhaps we could make it back to the Third Abyss before it departed. But I would still be plague-ridden… and without another lead, it was only a matter of time before…

  “You swear you’ll
cure Volke?” Adelgis asked.

  I shot him a concerned look.

  “You have my word,” Theasin said.

  “What’re you thinking?” Fain said under his breath.

  Adelgis ran an unsteady hand through his long, rain-soaked hair. “I… I told him I would get him a cure. If we don’t get it from my father, we won’t get it from anyone.” He faced me, his brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “None of this is your fault,” I muttered.

  “I wasn’t apologizing for the situation, just my actions.”

  Adelgis reached out, and before I could move away, his fingertips grazed my neck. In the next instant, my mind fogged with his magic-inducing sleep. I staggered backward, both shocked by his betrayal and confused by the cobwebs muddling my thoughts.

  How could he?

  I hit a table with my hip and collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness a moment later.

  No!

  I tried—I struggled—but the magic kept me confined in a mental cage made of sleep. Why would Adelgis do this? No. I knew why. But I still couldn’t forgive him. Forcing me to accept Theasin’s aid, because he thought this was the best course of action drove me to a new height of frustration.

  It was probably best that I was asleep. A small piece of me thought about running Adelgis through with Retribution. That was irrational—too over-the-top for what had happened—and I needed a chance to regain control.

  Then I was dreaming.

  I hated sinking into Zelfree’s memory. Before this, the dreams had been a pleasant distraction. Now it was torture—reminding me that time was passing while I did nothing.

  The arcanists in the Frith Guild needed to know what was going on. I had to inform them about the whereabouts of Theasin and the apoch dragon. I had so much to do, but without the ability to wake, I couldn’t do any of it.

  In Zelfree’s memory, I carried a small mystical creature into a map room on a ship, probably the Red Falcon. The table had a paper map sprawled across the top. Little boats carved out of oak wood dotted the water.

  With the utmost care, I placed the mystical creature on the edge of the map, knocking over some of the figurines.

  It was a kirin foal—a little baby creature no bigger than a housecat. It trembled as it glanced around, its black-and-star eyes examining everything. The silver scales of its body practically glistened in the afternoon light streaming through the nearby porthole. The kirin was majestic and beautiful, even as it quavered and tucked its thin legs under its body.

  Captain Eventide entered the room and shut the door behind her. The foal tucked its face into the knees of its front legs, hiding its eyes and crystal horn.

  She hurried over and removed her coat, her long, brown hair getting tangled around the collar for a moment. Once freed, she draped the coat over the kirin foal and bundled it with gentle motions.

  “Kirin are delicate creatures,” she said as she smoothed the soft leather over the back of the foal. “They die easily from disease and harsh weather. Even minor injuries could cost them their lives. You must handle them with care.”

  “I thought I had,” I said. “I didn’t realize the foal was cold.” I crossed my arms and shook my head. “No matter how many times I tried to speak to him, the kirin never answered. I would’ve happily given him my coat if he’d said he’d needed it.”

  “Kirin don’t speak to anyone but their arcanists,” Eventide stated.

  “Is that right?”

  “It’s their sight of destiny. They’re born knowing who they will bond to, and they refuse to acknowledge or interact with anyone else.”

  I snorted back a sarcastic laugh. “Wouldn’t it be easier for them to tell someone who they want to bond to?”

  “The people of the kirin village have long cared for them. It’s their responsibility to protect and carry the kirin foals to their new masters.”

  “Well, this was payment from Maddox, the Marshall of the Southern Seas,” I said. “Which means these kirin villagers aren’t doing their job.”

  The trembling foal poked half its face out from the coat, staring up at us with one twinkling eye. Would it really refuse to speak to us? I reached out to pet the kirin, but he flinched away and buried himself deeper into the coat.

  “Why are the kirin being taken from their homes and sold across the seas?” I asked. “What kind of trinkets and artifacts would you build from weak creatures who’ll die if you sneeze on them?”

  Captain Eventide gently caressed the foal through the leather of the coat. It didn’t take long for the kirin to calm down and stop its quavering.

  “Most people don’t know this, but kirin have weak magics,” Eventide said, her voice low. “However, kirin allow their arcanists to bond to a second mystical creature, and then the kirin empowers it and the arcanist.”

  I rubbed at my chin as Eventide spoke.

  The information intrigued me, even if I was still frustrated with Adelgis.

  Master Zelfree had told me that bonding with a second creature would result in death since mystical creatures technically grew older by feeding from a person’s soul. That feeding process was like a small cut; a little blood loss wouldn’t kill someone. Bonding with another creature was like stabbing one’s neck—too much blood loss at once.

  But the kirin ignored that? Kirin arcanists could have two eldrin?

  “People think they can craft a trinket that will allow them to bond with multiple creatures,” Eventide said. She glanced up, her bright brown eyes alight with intensity. “But they’re wrong. No combination of magic from another creature can create a trinket like that. Despite the many warnings, they still try.”

  I slowly reached out and patted the kirin through the coat. It returned to its trembling state, somehow disturbed by my touch specifically. I pulled away, and it regained its tranquility.

  “Who put this idea in their heads, then?” I asked. “Maddox?”

  “No. I think it comes from the legend of the gold kirin. Supposedly, the gold kirin arcanist can grant people the ability to bond with another creature.” Eventide shook her head. “But just like blue phoenixes, these are creatures so rare, most people will never see one—even if they travel the seas for five lifetimes.” She sighed. “But there is no rationalizing with pirates who think they can get their hands on easy power. As far as I’m concerned, they’re being tricked into helping Maddox.”

  “You mean because none of them know anything about kirin?”

  Eventide snapped her fingers. “You got it. They hear about rare creatures, and they jump at bait, willing to do whatever it takes.”

  “What did you discover about that blood, by the way?” I backed away from the table, giving the kirin as much room as possible. “Does it really give people power?”

  Eventide’s expression hardened. “Actually… It’s much worse than that. We’ll need to have a guild meeting on the matter. I think… something quite sinister is at work here.”

  The dream-memory melted away, the colors bleeding into black until I saw nothing.

  Had Adelgis specifically shown me that memory because Orwyn was a kirin arcanist? Did that mean… Orwyn had a second eldrin? She had introduced her kirin as her “first eldrin,” so it would make sense, but… Where had it been?

  When the colors of the dream-memory came back together and formed a coherent picture, I found myself in the shadowy confines of a ship’s hold. Captain Eventide and her first mate, Gregory Ruma, were also present, but mostly shrouded in darkness, to the point it was difficult to discern their expressions. I always missed my dark-sight whenever I experienced these memories.

  “I gave the reports to everyone who would take them,” Ruma said, his tone serious enough that, despite my current problems, I wanted to hear what he had to say. “But the Marshall of the Northern Seas denies everything.”

  “Even the conclusion about the blood?” I asked, equally as intense.

  “He said he would have other arcanists examine the issue. But th
at’ll take time.”

  Captain Eventide pulled a hat over her long hair. “The marshall sent word to me—we’re to move out of this area. I tried appealing to other guilds, and to some of the monarchs of the nearby nations, but they refuse to get involved.”

  “If we disobey the Marshall of the Northern Seas, the Frith Guild will have its status revoked, and we’ll all be declared turncoats and pirates.”

  Although I wasn’t really there, I wanted to nod along with the conversation. The guilds were meant to act as extra safety and authority over all things magical. Some guilds primarily provided healing, some created items, others—like the Frith Guild—handled matters of law and justice. Technically, all nations who had cosigned the guild treaties agreed that guilds would have authority to carry out certain tasks. However, if those nations disagreed with how a guild handled matters, the nation could request to handle their own internal affairs and block guild intervention.

  If the Frith Guild violated that—if they attacked Maddox without the support of other guilds and nations, and against the direct command of the Marshall of the Northern Seas—then they could be labeled as outlaws.

  On the other hand, Maddox was spreading the arcane plague, smuggling kirin, and aiding pirates. Those activities weren’t just internal affairs to a single nation. They would affect the whole damn world.

  “The Frith Guild can’t officially involve itself,” Eventide intoned. “But after what we learned of this blood plague, we better step in before it’s too late.”

  “I can handle Maddox,” I said, cockier than I had ever heard Zelfree. “It’s his typhoon dragon I’m worried about it. That beast will lose all control once its arcanist dies.”

  Ruma placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Eventide and I can join the sea battle if we’re arcanists on another ship, dragged into the conflict. And you’ve been studying up on your chimera aura, right? This might be the time to unleash that kind of power.”