Arcane (The Arinthian Line Book 1)

by Sever Bronny

  “Don’t call me that—”

  Now it was Augum’s turn to keep a straight face. “‘Bridgey-poo?’”

  “Oh, shut up,” Bridget said, sweeping the hair from her eyes and marching up the steps to the fourth floor.

  “It’s what her mum used to call her,” Leera said, growing somber.

  He guessed what Bridget was thinking—Sparrow’s Perch was still fresh in their minds, and little things like pet names were painful reminders.

  “I didn’t know you wanted to be a knight,” he said.

  “I did, but I would have started training too late. Also, mum didn’t approve. Dad did get me a short sword though.”

  “I remember. You named her Careena. I didn’t start young enough either, you know.”

  She shrugged. “I prefer arcanery anyway.”

  “Me too.”

  “Found some—!” Bridget said when they caught up. She was rummaging through a pile of wood in the southwest battlement. The structure had archer slots spread evenly around the five-foot thick stone walls. Two broken chests sat opposite each other.

  “What a grim place to stand for two hundred years,” Leera said. “Waiting all that time to train the next prince or princess, and none came but us …”

  Bridget stopped what she was doing and glanced at Augum. “Could it be that Leera actually put herself in someone else’s boots?”

  “She takes after your example,” he said.

  “An arcanely-animated suit of armor doesn’t count,” Leera said, grinning. “But I’ll consider that a compliment.”

  Bridget smiled as she passed a wooden practice sword to each of them, grabbing one extra for good measure. “Hey, while we’re here, whose turn is it to repair the map?” She withdrew the wrinkled parchment from her robe.

  “Mine, I think.” Augum took the map from her, placed it on the ground, and concentrated. “Apreyo.”

  Nothing happened.

  He sat there for a while and was about to give up when a piece of parchment came fluttering from behind one of the broken chests, re-attaching itself to the map. They had failed so many times the girls had not even noticed the success.

  He held up the map. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think we got it.”

  Leera almost tore the map swiping it from his hands. “I’ll be damned, he did it …” She splayed it on one of the chests.

  “The passage is in the cellar,” Bridget said. “Southeast corner, the area we haven’t explored yet.”

  Leera took a few steps. “Come on then, let’s go!”

  “Go where?” said a familiar sneering voice from the stairs.

  Augum hastily shoved the map back into Bridget’s hands, who promptly hid it in her robe.

  Sydo smoothed his hair. “You three think you are so clever, always getting one over on the poor prince. So where are you sneaking off to this time? What, plan on opening another door so more beasts could try to kill me?”

  Bridget straightened. “We would never—”

  “Well who else would do it?” Sydo strolled forward, smirking. “My knights and servants are completely loyal to me; they would never put me in danger. It must have been one of you.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Leera said. “We were outside repairing the wall when the thing attacked us.”

  “You will address me as ‘Your Highness’. Are you saying Lord Moron forgot to close the doors, is that right? I think it was you or that old crone—”

  Augum took a step forward. “Mrs. Stone would never do such a thing—”

  Sydo shrugged and held up a hand. “No need to get brutish. Very well, let us go forth on this peasant quest of yours. I am coming with you. What is it that you found again, a—”

  “—swords,” Bridget said. “We found practice swords, and if you’re coming along you’re going to need one of them.” She shoved the extra wooden practice sword into Sydo’s hands.

  “I have a real one, thank you,” Sydo said, holding the stick at arms’ length like a filthy rag.

  “We’re going to go practice with Fentwick. You can either practice with one of these or go use the real one with the Nightsword.” Bridget marched off in a dignified manner, Augum and Leera close behind.

  The prince hesitated, no doubt remembering the last time he sparred with Fentwick, weighing that against sparring with a drunken Nightsword. Scowling, he decided to follow the trio.

  “Ugh, does he have to drag his feet so loudly?” Leera muttered as they descended. “I swear he’s doing it on purpose.”

  “Wouldst thou fancy a duel, mine lady?” Fentwick asked as the four arrived on the third floor.

  “I certainly would,” Bridget said.

  “What setting dost mine lady beseech of me—defender, beginner, intermediate, advanced, or expert?”

  “Beginner if you will, Fentwick.”

  “As mine lady wishes.”

  Sydo leaned on his wooden sword, trying to break it. “What a farce …”

  Bridget ignored the remark and raised her sword. “On your guard.”

  “On ye guard,” Fentwick said, crossing his wooden sword with Bridget’s. She then swung at Fentwick with blow after fierce blow. Fentwick parried the first two then missed the second two, receiving two thwacks that made a gong sound.

  “That’s the spirit, Bridge—another dent for the collection!” Leera said, making phantom thrusting motions in the air.

  “It is like watching turtles battle,” Sydo muttered. “She certainly is no Speedsword …”

  “Your turn, Lee,” Bridget huffed after a few more rounds of swordplay.

  Leera took her place and raised her sword. “Intermediate please, Fentwick.”

  Fentwick crossed her blade with his own. “As ye wish, mine lady.”

  Sydo groaned. “Oh, how daring.”

  But Leera showed a great deal more skill than Bridget—the animated suit of armor rang with hits as she flew at him like a wasp.

  “Wow, Leera, you’re really good,” Augum said, thinking she was actually better than him.

  Leera’s cheeks reddened as she almost took a blow to the head.

  Sydo’s face showed disappointment. Soon, he was twirling his sword idly. Augum noticed that although Sydo pretended not to care, he was actually keeping a close eye on Leera’s sword movements.

  At last, Leera made to slash at Fentwick’s legs, adjusted at the last moment, and slammed the wooden sword into the side of his helm. The animated suit of armor clanked to the ground.

  Augum and Bridget clapped as Fentwick stood.

  “Artfully done, mine lady.”

  “Your turn,” Leera said, but before Augum was able to raise his wooden blade, the Nightsword staggered into the corridor. He slammed the dining room doors behind him, tankard of ale sloshing in his hand.

  “Stupid wench, if you don’t want to come to my room, maybe I should go to yours!” He squinted at them. “Well if it isn’t the magic children …”

  Bridget primly cleared her throat. “It’s arcane, Sir Quick.”

  The Nightsword bent down and tried to focus his gaze on Bridget but only succeeded in crossing his eyes. “Why, it’s a talking squirrel—!”

  Sydo howled with laughter and slapped his knee.

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Augum said.

  The Nightsword’s wandering eyes tried to focus on Augum. “Come again?”

  “Perhaps Sir Quick has had too much ale—” Bridget said quickly.

  Quick straightened. “Where is that wretched girl! I demand service!”

  “You leave her alone—” Augum began but the dining room doors flew open and Mya rushed forth.

  “There you are, sweetling,” the Nightsword said. “Come take me to my bed, for I fear I have become rather muddled.”

  “Surely Sir is able to find his room on his own,” Mya said in a subdued voice, eyes low.

  The Nightsword took a long swig, eyes gleaming. “Nonsense, girl, you are a royal servant. Do your royal duty.”<
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  Augum looked to the prince, wondering when he was planning on stepping in. This was, after all, a member of his royal guard—but Sydo only grinned.

  “She can’t go with you, Sir—!” Augum said.

  The Nightsword thrust his face into Augum’s. Ale dripped from his mustache and his breath smelled like rotten onion. “Oh? And just why not?”

  Think quickly. “Because she has to come with us—”

  “Where?”

  “Um … to a secret passage we found!”

  Leera groaned.

  “I knew it—!” the prince said with a triumphant grin.

  The Nightsword gulped down the rest of his ale and threw the pottery tankard behind his back. Mya winced as it smashed on the floor. He adjusted his sword belt and smoothed his mustache with his thumb. “Well then, let’s make this adventure a group effort. Lead on, little worm.”

  “What are you doing—?” Bridget asked under her breath as they descended the stairs.

  “Don’t know, I’ll figure something out …” He walked as slowly as he dared, but when they reached the foyer, he still had not formed a plan. His mind was racing for ideas when he felt an icy draft along with a distant thud. A moment later, the foyer doors opened and in shuffled a stooped Mrs. Stone, hood drawn over her head.

  A wave of relief swept over Augum.

  Bridget rushed forward. “Mrs. Stone … you’re back!”

  Mrs. Stone dropped her hood and adjusted her long silver ponytail. She frowned at Bridget before fixing her gaze on the Nightsword, who was swaying back and forth on the landing like a tree in a storm.

  “Ah, the crone returns! And what of my companions in Antioc—any word?”

  “Dead, I fear.”

  It took the Nightsword a few moments to register what she had said. “Indeed …?” He brought his empty hand to his lips as if to drink. It hovered there until he broke out with a ghoulish cackling that soon dissolved into a coughing fit. When it subsided, he made a dismissive gesture. “They weren’t none too skilled anyway; bunch of fools to get themselves killed, if you ask me.”

  Mrs. Stone pursed her lips and made an impatient motion with her hand. The familiar electric globe appeared, bathing the foyer in blue light. She then approached Mya. “Please fetch Ms. Grinds and ask her to escort Sir Quick to his quarters.”

  Mya gave Mrs. Stone a nervous smile, curtsied, and swiftly walked up the stairs, careful to give the Nightsword a wide berth. He leered at her as she passed.

  Mrs. Stone turned to Bridget. “I have brought something back for you, child.” She reached into her robe and pulled out the ornately decorated dagger Bridget had given up.

  “I say, what is that?” Sydo asked.

  “A piercing blade,” Mrs. Stone said.

  Bridget received it with both hands. “What’s a piercing blade, Mrs. Stone?”

  The Nightsword burped, head now resting on the marble banister. “A blade that passes through all types of armor.”

  Bridget unsheathed the dagger. “So that means it can pass through arcane armor too?”

  “No,” the Nightsword gurgled from the landing. “Just ordinary armor that belongs to us ordinaries. Only Dreadnought piercing blades can pass through arcane armor.”

  Augum realized what the Nightsword meant by “ordinaries”—the man lacked arcane talent.

  Bridget looked up at Mrs. Stone. “So is it … is it a Dreadnought blade?”

  Mrs. Stone watched her a moment before giving a slight nod.

  “Well, is it or is it not?” the Nightsword asked, head lolling on the banister.

  “Yes!” the prince called, shaking his head with an impatient sigh. “Give it here, let me have a gander—”

  Bridget hesitated before passing it over. The prince gazed upon it with covetous eyes.

  “It’s name—!” The Nightsword was reeling now. “What’s its name?”

  “The arcaneologist declared its name to be Blackbite,” Mrs. Stone replied.

  “Fitting,” Leera said, holding her hand out to the prince. Sydo made her wait before finally surrendering the blade. The hematite shone as she turned it over in her hands.

  “Mrs. Stone, Sir Quick said my sword is also a Dreadnought blade,” Augum said. “Do you happen to know its name?”

  “That I do. Its name is Burden’s Edge.”

  The Nightsword bubbled with laughter. “Burden’s Edge. What a jape—” Suddenly he lost his balance and crashed to the ground.

  Mrs. Stone pressed her eyes closed as if begging for patience.

  Augum thought the name was indeed peculiar, but before he could ask where it came from, Mya was back with Ms. Grinds. Grinds shook her head upon laying eyes on the drunken knight sprawled at their feet.

  “Come, Sir, it is time for a good sleep,” Ms. Grinds said, helping him stand. The Nightsword muttered unintelligibly before placing his arm around her shoulder. The pair ascended together, Mya following, hands behind her back.

  “Mrs. Stone, there was an attack while you were gone,” Bridget said.

  “Mercy, child, why had you not said so earlier? What manner of attack? Quickly now.”

  Bridget secured Blackbite to her belt and recounted what happened, starting with the child outside the walls—how she asked it to come to her, how it changed into a wolf-thing, and how it poisoned her with its bite. She went on to explain that it somehow split into two beasts, that Augum slew both, and that he used oxy and fountain water to save them all.

  Augum colored from such a heroic-sounding retelling. He had to remind them he had been unable to revive Sir Fostian Red. Sydo, meanwhile, kept rolling his eyes or smacking his lips as if he had something to say.

  “And how did these things find their way into the castle?” Mrs. Stone asked after Bridget finished.

  “We don’t know,” Leera said.

  “It was them!” the prince said, gesticulating at the trio, forehead redder than his hair. “They left the doors open and let those beasts in—!”

  Augum, Bridget and Leera protested all at once.

  “That’s absurd—”

  “We did no such thing—”

  “Not true—”

  “Silence!” Mrs. Stone barked, making them all jump. Her gaze passed over each of them in turn before she spoke again. “Bridget, when you begged the child forward you unwittingly invited it onto the grounds, thus bypassing my protective enchantments. The fault is mine, however—I should have given clear instruction on how the sanctuary enchantment works. Now, where are the corpses of these beasts?”

  “But … but … what about the doors?” Sydo asked.

  Mrs. Stone turned a sharp eye on him and Sydo withered.

  “Sir Gallows and I tied them together, Mrs. Stone,” Augum said. “Then we dragged them outside.”

  “Then I shall speak with him. Have the three of you practiced at swords?”

  “A little bit with Fentwick.”

  Mrs. Stone frowned. “Not with the knights?”

  Augum exchanged hesitant looks with Bridget and Leera. “No, they were, um—”

  “—drunk,” Bridget said, cheeks brightening.

  “I see. And what of your studies, I gather the three of you read up on the Unconceal spell?”

  The trio shifted. “No, Mrs. Stone,” they said in quiet voices.

  “Then may I suggest you begin right away. It is late, but I expect you ought to be able to study at least an hour.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stone.”

  It did not escape Augum’s notice that Sydo gave them an envious, almost regretful look. As they turned to leave, Mandy, the young servant with reddish brown hair, padded softly down the steps, curtsying at the landing.

  “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Stone, but Ms. Grinds sent me to escort His Royal Highness to bed.”

  The prince practically shook. “But … the doors … the passage—!”

  Mrs. Stone only raised a silver brow. Sydo’s shoulders finally slumped and he dragged himself up the steps.

&nb
sp; Augum shared a grateful look with Leera, but Mrs. Stone spotted him doing it. His stomach twisted into a knot as her eyes narrowed. Sure enough, as soon as the prince disappeared, she turned on them.

  “I have taken note of late that you three seem to find pleasure in another’s suffering. Shame on you.”

  The trio dropped their eyes.

  “And Augum, you of all people ought to know how it feels to be an outsider.” She paused to glare at them. “I am disappointed in the lot of you.” She turned and shuffled up the steps. They watched her go in silence.

  Leera rubbed her forehead. “You’d think she’d congratulate you for saving everybody, Aug. Instead, we get lectured how we should be best friends with the brat prince.”

  “Mrs. Stone’s right,” Bridget said. “Haven’t made much effort, have we?”

  Leera waved the idea aside. “He’s a brat. That’s my take.”

  Bridget sighed. “Come on, we have a lot of studying to do …”

  Adventure

  The trio spent an hour huddled around the blue book in the girls’ room studying the Unconceal spell. It was tiring reading, forcing long discussions on the finer points of the spell.

  “This book is massive,” Bridget said, resting her back against the wall.

  Leera yawned. “I’m exhausted. Have we done enough?”

  “I think so,” Augum said, “but before I go to bed I’m going to try that bit about adjusting your palm a certain way, see if it helps.” He extended his hand and spread his fingers wide. “Un vun deo.” He concentrated on feeling for the intent to conceal, then adjusted his palm in subtle ways, just like the book recommended. Unexpectedly, he began to feel a very tiny pull toward the wall of leaded-glass windows. He followed the invisible trail but, due to his tiredness, lost concentration, breaking the spell.

  “There’s something here behind this wall.”

  Bridget wandered over. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, pretty sure.”

  Leera palmed the wall. “There’s a seam here. Feel that?

  Augum felt the spot. “It’s well hidden.”

  “Wait, look at this—” Bridget clawed at something with her fingernails, raising a camouflaged handle from the stone. They pulled it and a two-foot square door rumbled open, a cloud of dust billowing forth.

  “I don’t believe it, a secret passage,” Leera whispered, sticking her head inside.