Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  I didn’t recognize most of them, but there were two familiar faces.

  Akiva—the king basilisk arcanist. He had been the assassin who had killed Queen Velleta in Thronehold and who had nearly killed me as well. He wore a full suit of gray scale armor and stood like only a soldier could, stiff and prepared for combat.

  And Orwyn—the kirin arcanist with the vacant gaze. She stood near the table where Theasin had been working, her strawberry blonde hair more orange in the lamplight than I remembered.

  Most of the arcanists in the room had red glowing marks, clear indicators they were plague-ridden and insane. Their eldrin had all been twisted by the corruption. One unicorn had worms wriggling around in its bloated gut—so full it was on the edge of bursting. Another arcanist had a cerberus dog, and each of the beast’s three heads had horns protruding from the skull. Other types of bones poked through the dog’s back, jutting out at random angles, as though a second skeleton were trying to grow out of the creature.

  A man in a long, black robe walked into my line of sight. He was thin—scrawny in a malnourished way—and walked with a jittery gait, like he wasn’t fully in control of his motions. His black hair was cut short and neat, but his eyes were set so far apart, it was as though they were trying to escape his face. The man glanced around the room, searching for something, though I didn’t know what. He licked his lips more often than I could count, and once he had finished his hasty investigation, he turned to Theasin.

  “There you are,” he said, his voice high-pitched and bordering on whiny. “Is it ready? Will the Autarch be pleased?”

  Theasin rushed back to his table and arranged the black bones into place. “Almost. I need a moment longer.”

  “The Autarch doesn’t want to wait. We’re behind on our plans as it is.”

  Theasin didn’t dignify the statement with a response. He went to work on his project, ignoring the dozens of eyes that were now honing in on him. Each one of the plague-ridden arcanists and their eldrin seemed restless, and they moved closer to Theasin with small steps and hushed whispers.

  Some mystical creatures laughed uncontrollably, their insane jovial attitude a permanent black mark on my memory. Those laughing-mad eldrin would forever haunt my nightmares.

  No one paid attention to me, though, and for that, I was grateful. Even Spider and Calisto had turned their backs to me, more concerned with the gathering than the payment they were owed.

  I felt like… a vial on a shelf. Or a book in a library. An object they could ignore.

  That was what everything in this nook was—something Theasin had horded away, perhaps to be used later.

  “It’s ready,” Theasin said with a sigh. “You may inform the Autarch, Rhys.”

  The jittery man, Rhys, nodded after the words, his quick head movements odd and giving him a sense of enthusiasm. He waved his hand through the air and another round of popping filled the room. Was Rhys a rizzel arcanist? I was too far away to see the detail in his glowing-red arcanist mark, but I assumed so.

  Two more figures appeared in the room. The moment they emerged from the flash of white, everyone backed away, including Theasin.

  The first was a man in simple, but tailored, clothing. He wore a sleek tunic of fine cloth, one without sleeves, revealing his arms from the shoulders down. His trousers were the same material, and neatly folded, though the man wore no boots.

  I would’ve said the man looked half-dressed, but it quickly became obvious why he had left certain parts of his body exposed. His forehead carried an arcanist mark, but so did both of his shoulders. The star and symbol of his eldrin were clear, even if he was too far away for me to make out what creatures he had bonded to.

  His short, black hair, shiny in the lowlight, had been cut in such a way as to accentuate his lithe and muscled neck. Even his clothes seemed to make his toned body more prominent—nothing about him was out of place.

  Standing behind the immaculate man, radiating inner magic, was a gold kirin.

  Unlike the silver kirin, which shimmered when they moved, this gold kirin seemed to glow with a soft amber power. Its scales resembled a dragon, its cloven hooves glittered with each step, and its eyes appeared as molten amber. Instead of a single twisted horn, it had a set of antlers, both of which shone like they were made of star shards.

  Everything about the kirin screamed of magic and power—and I would’ve been able to identify this man and his eldrin even if Rhys hadn’t.

  The Autarch.

  Although I hadn’t known it before, I knew now—the Autarch was the man in charge of the Second Ascension. Just the way everyone had reacted when he had appeared confirmed my suspicions.

  I searched my memories, trying to remember every instance I had heard of the Autarch. When I pieced together what little information I had, everything fell into place.

  Gold kirin were so rare and so powerful that it was no wonder this man would’ve been made the ruler of the kirin village after his bonding. Kirin only became the eldrin of people who would influence history as powerful rulers, regardless of whether it was a positive impact or a negative one, so why wouldn’t the village be excited?

  Then the Autarch must’ve taken the kirin foals and used them as payment for his plan—he gave them away to greedy pirates and to men like Maddox, so they could spread the arcane plague. The Autarch did this not because he wanted to see the world collapse, but because he wanted to make a fundamental change in magic, one that would cause the thirteen god-creatures to return.

  Why?

  I knew why. It was obvious.

  The Autarch wanted to bond with one. Or perhaps more than one, if the number of arcanist marks on his body indicated anything. He had three marks. He could have two more eldrin beyond his first, all thanks to the gold kirin’s innate ability. Even one god-creature would be powerful, but having two and then empowering them? The Autarch would have no equal—he would stand alone as a titan among even god-arcanists.

  With that much power, could he defeat the second apoch dragon? Perhaps. I didn’t know, but I could see it being calculated into the Autarch’s plotting.

  This had all been his plan from the beginning. The Autarch had probably even paid Theasin with a kirin foal—something that Theasin would happily throw straight into a meat grinder, just to harvest its organs.

  What about the other arcanists? Were they paid in mystical creatures, trinkets, and artifacts, like Calisto? Or were they insane to the point they followed him with fanatic devotion? I could see both being the answer, depending on their eldrin.

  And somehow along the way, though I didn’t know how, the Autarch had discovered the apoch dragon’s remains and decided to use its bones to make weapons for his vile arcanist underlings. The decay dust and others were powerful tools for sowing chaos and discord. With the world in turmoil, and everyone fearing the plague, of course this man had never been discovered. He had used the pandemonium as a smokescreen.

  The jittery rizzel arcanist, Rhys, stepped forward, his hands shaking. “Ah, Great Autarch. Everything is ready.”

  The Autarch was the exact opposite of Rhys. He moved with purpose and precision—had muscle and a straight stance—and wielded his commanding presence like a weapon. Rhys bunched his shoulders close to his neck, his whole body shaking at this point.

  Theasin motioned to the worktable, specifically to the black bones interlaced together. “I’ve finished with your suit of armor. It’s made completely from pieces of the petrous—the hardest bone found in the apoch dragon’s body. It will protect you from blades and bullets, like any armor, and it’ll weigh half as much. The most impressive ability is that this armor will destroy magic that attempts to harm you—even from the likes of dragons.” Theasin placed a hand on his creation, smirking. “It’s better than nullstone because it won’t impact your own magic use, nor will it need to be attuned. The apoch dragon’s magic-killer properties are soaked into its very bones. Nothing magical will seep through.”

  “You nev
er disappoint,” the Autarch said, smooth and confident.

  Orwyn stepped forward, her fingers combing through her strawberry hair, her gaze half on the ceiling and half on the Autarch. “You’ll be pleased to hear that almost everything has gone according to plan. The rulers of six nations—including the Argo Empire—have been assassinated. The new rulers are the ones we helped to seize power. All of these nations have sworn loyalty to the Second Ascension and will openly declare fealty for the new world serpent arcanist as soon as one emerges. Once you bond with that god-creature, my Autarch, those nations will be yours to command. You’ll have power over more territory than any other arcanist in history.”

  Orwyn gave her speech in a pleasant singsong manner. If I could laugh, I would’ve—it was such a harsh juxtaposition from the dark content of the report.

  I had been present when the Second Ascension had assassinated Queen Velleta, and I had even witnessed them prep Prince Rishan to take the throne afterward.

  “Do we have the world serpent runestone?” the Autarch asked as he lifted a perfect eyebrow.

  Orwyn took a step away, her gaze more vacant than it had been a moment before.

  No one seemed eager to offer up the information. I could understand—they needed the world serpent runestone in order to get to the creature. They had attempted to steal it from the castle in Thronehold, but I had beaten them to it. Before I left the Frith Guild, I had given the runestone to my sister, Illia. Hopefully, the Frith Guild had already arrived at the lair of the world serpent. If someone from the guild bonded with that god-creature, the Autarch would never get his hands on it.

  Rhys sucked in a breath between his teeth and shuffled forward. “It’s unfortunate, but we… lost… the runestone, my Autarch.”

  46

  Enemy Of The Frith Guild

  “W-we have others!” Rhys continued, fidgeting with his hands. “Six others! But not the jade runestone meant for the world serpent. D-don’t fret. We will retrieve it soon.”

  The gold kirin stepped to the other side of the Autarch, its glowing antlers flaring for a moment with inner magics.

  The Autarch placed his hand on the beast’s muzzle. “Who has the runestone?”

  “It’s in the possession of the Frith Guild.”

  The mere mention of the guild seemed to agitate most of the plague-ridden arcanists in the room. For the first time since arriving, the Autarch hardened his expression, his smooth facial features marred by lines of hate.

  “I thought I told you to handle them,” he said.

  Although she had stepped back into the group, Orwyn pushed through two other arcanists in order to step forward once again. She half-stared at the floor as she said, “Almost all your greatest enemies have been dealt with, my Autarch. We’ve eliminated the Grandmaster Inquisitor, the Steel Thorn Inquisitor’s Guild, Master Arcanist Gregory Ruma, Knight Captain Winton Rendell, Artificer Gayle Forner, Guildmaster Eva Stone, Guildmaster Ventis Durall, and the Marshall of the Eastern Seas.”

  Orwyn rattled off the death list with a casualness that bordered on the cruel. So many talented arcanists had been murdered to further their plan, yet there wasn’t an ounce of remorse between them.

  “The Frith Guild has been a problem since the first days of the Second Ascension,” the Autarch said.

  Then he motioned to the unicorn arcanist, and the man hurried forward. Without a word spoken between them, the unicorn arcanist picked up the armor and began fastening it over the Autarch, one piece at a time, starting with the shoulder pauldron.

  “Liet Eventide, specifically, has attempted to stop me at every turn,” the Autarch continued. He lifted his arms for the unicorn arcanist, allowing the man to secure the black bone armor in place. “Even though I’ve pressured monarchs and governors to have the guild removed from our territories of operation, Eventide finds a way to get involved and to kill my agents—even Maddox fell to her plots. And now she has the audacity to take my runestone? I want her dead.”

  Orwyn slowly nodded. “We’ve tried, my Autarch, but Eventide has evaded all our attempts to assassinate her.”

  “Infect her with the arcane plague.”

  Theasin picked up a piece of the armor set and handed it to the unicorn arcanist. Then he stepped forward. “Unfortunately, it’s impossible to infect Guildmaster Eventide. Arcanists who have achieved true form with their eldrin become immune to the plague.”

  “She has a true form atlas turtle?” the Autarch asked.

  “Eventide obtained her true form when some of your agents eliminated the last guildmaster. Apparently, despite fatal injuries, Eventide had defended several journeymen arcanists, and then killed our assassins. Since atlas turtles are known for their protectiveness, I assume her actions were what triggered this transformation, but I’m still not certain how each individual arcanist gains a true form. This is all speculation.”

  The Autarch narrowed his eyes. “Liet Eventide is responsible for a great many setbacks. I don’t care what powers she has or how she got them. Bring me my runestone.”

  Although I didn’t know much about true forms, it occurred to me that the requirement for obtaining one was like a secret second trial of worth. There was still something that needed to be completed before the mystical creature could obtain its telos—that much I knew—but I had never thought of it in terms of a task. I had read that the true forms embodied the creatures in question—true form wendigo came from arcanists who had turned cannibal, and true form sovereign dragons were formed from power-hungry authoritarians.

  And I also knew that true form manticores needed the eyes of children—more than the few needed for a manticore’s initial trial of worth.

  As long as the arcanist displayed these capabilities, or met the requirements, their eldrin would transform, and their magic would increase beyond normal.

  If only all arcanists could achieve that… Then the arcane plague would no longer be a threat, and the Second Ascension would lose one of its most powerful tools.

  Once the Autarch had his bone armor chest piece in place, he turned his attention to Akiva, the assassin. “Find Liet Eventide. Kill her and her atlas turtle.”

  The image of Akiva murdering Queen Velleta stained my memories with the permanence of a tattoo. King basilisk poison killed on contact, and Akiva hadn’t hesitated to put her in an early grave. Not only that, but his eldrin had killed the queen’s sovereign dragon. Could Guildmaster Eventide escape his deadly magics? I didn’t know, but I knew she had to be told of this meeting, and the plot against her and the Frith Guild.

  Akiva replied to the Autarch with a quick bow of his head. Then he headed for the exit, his movements quick, precise, and quiet. No words—Akiva had his orders, and he left to carry them out.

  The panting of the plague-ridden creatures increased, their breath putrid and filling the room with the musty odor of rot and decay. The Autarch donned the last of his armor when he fitted the helmet over his head. The outfit was a mix of full plate and scale mail, creating a hybrid of smaller pieces and larger bone fragments for protection. He moved with ease, showcasing his new toy. Theasin had crafted a masterpiece. It reminded me of Luthair.

  “After I have the runestone,” the Autarch said, “I’ll bond with the world serpent and we can finally see the first of our ambitions come to pass.”

  The door to the room opened again, and I feared Akiva had returned. Instead, someone small and covered from head to toe in a black robe, shuffled close to the Autarch, their shoulders slumped and their head hung low.

  “Pardon the intrusion,” the newcomer said, her voice soft.

  The dozen other arcanists in the room gave this woman their attention, though some of them had grown restless. They paced along the walls, their intense eyes darting around the area, taking everything in.

  “What is it?” the Autarch asked. “Have you discovered something?”

  “I have,” she replied.

  “Out with it.”

  “Word was sent from th
e Dread Pirate Kreel—he’s found the birthplace of the soul forge, the second of the god-creatures to awaken.”

  “What?” Calisto growled under his breath.

  The agitation in the room built like a hive of bees that had been disturbed. The arcanists and their eldrin hissed words between one another, most of which I couldn’t fully hear.

  From what I understood, the thirteen god-creatures spawned in order—first the world serpent, then the soul forge. I had assumed the second wouldn’t spawn until the first had been bonded, and I suspected that was what the rest of these blackhearts had thought as well.

  “We’ve taken too long with the world serpent,” the Autarch said. “But the soul forge doesn’t have magics of war—it’s a beast of magical creation and manipulation.”

  “What shall I send back to Captain Kreel?” the robed woman asked.

  “You tell him to guard the beast with his life.” The Autarch focused his attention on Rhys. “You have the runestone for the soul forge, don’t you?”

  The jittery man nodded. Then he held up a hand, and a puff of sparkles filled his palm. He had teleported a pink quartz runestone into his grasp. “This is the key to the soul forge,” Rhys said. He bowed deeply as he handed it over. “Everything is ready.”

  The Autarch took the runestone and then held it out to Theasin. “As per our agreement, and as reward for your loyalty and contributions to our cause, you may take this and head to the soul forge’s lair.”

  Although I couldn’t move, the adrenaline in my veins kept me hyper-focused on what was happening. Theasin was to get one of these god-creatures? I supposed the Autarch couldn’t take them all, but I hadn’t expected someone like Theasin to get his hands on one of these legendary world-altering beasts.

  Theasin was too cold, calculating, and unfeeling to wield the might of a god. How could anyone think he deserved such power?

  “I will dedicate my magical research to your cause,” Theasin said as he held the runestone delicately in his hands.