Arcane Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 2) (8 page)

23

Aaric

T
here. Aaric put the last wire in place, smiling in satisfaction. He started work on the plans months ago, and had used the past week to put it together. It was a more . . . violent invention than the glider to be sure, but if used correctly it could serve a very practical purpose. He just needed to find a way to test it now without blowing himself to smithereens.

“Once again, you astound me.” An older gentleman with a graying mustache leaned over Aaric’s shoulder, observing his work. “Absolutely astounding.”

“Thank you, sir,” Aaric said. The man was Sirius Archer, the president of the Scholar’s Guild. Luna had introduced him at Aaric’s request. Sirius had shown immense interest in the glider plans and was showing equal interest in Aaric’s current project.

“Is this one ready, then?”

“It’s close,” Aaric said. “It still needs a little testing, but I’m confident it will work.” He stood, leaving his project on the table.

“If this one is successful, I think we could find some use for it right away,” Sirius remarked, still eying the contraption with interest.

“Use for it, sir?” Aaric asked. “In what way?”

Sirius smiled, but said nothing more on it. He waved Aaric away. “It’s getting late. Adaryn will probably come looking for you soon.”

Aaric nodded. She often did if he worked past dinner. “I’d better be going then,” he said.

He gave his farewell, and left. Walking down the busy streets, he idly wondered what Sirius had planned.

“Hey.” Bran separated himself from the crowd, matching Aaric’s stride.

“You’ve been gone awhile,” Aaric remarked. “Did you find the elusive Fyrsil, or a brigand lair?”

“Nothing,” Bran growled. “Not so much as one blasted footprint.”

“You tried hunting them with magic, I presume.”

“I tried everything,” Bran sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I tried tracking them, hunting with magic; I even asked some locals if they had seen any brigand activity lately.” He laughed. “They weren’t too keen on answering those questions, the suspicious louts. Must have thought I was one of them.”

Arriving at the Dancing Cat, they seated themselves at a table in the common room, just in time for dinner. A few minutes later and the men were eagerly tucking into savory roast beef, baked potatoes and bread. Bran scarfed the food down like it was his last meal.

“You ate while you were out, right?” Aaric laughed.

“The occasional rabbit and any wild roots I found,” he said, reaching for another bread slice.

“Bran!”

Adaryn hurried over from the stairs, and sat next to him with a smile. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” Aaric said for him, as Bran’s mouth was full of beef. “He wasn’t able to find anything.” He tried to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. “I guess this means there isn’t a brigand leader and his sky jewel out there for us to find.”

“I wouldn’t count on that just yet.” Adaryn turned to face him, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“What do you mean?” Bran asked.

Adaryn looked around the common room, suddenly wary. It was too packed and noisy for anyone to overhear, Aaric guessed, but the nomad was clearly uncomfortable. “Both of you finish your food and meet me upstairs in my room,” she said, standing. The two men shared a confused stare as she left but didn’t comment on it.

Bran managed to shovel down three heaping plates of food before staggering upstairs to Adaryn’s room, Aaric following. Adaryn was pacing her room, and motioned them to both sit on the bed while she took the small chair.

“So what’s up?” Bran asked.

“Tyrko Ruins is up,” she said excitedly. “Did you have a chance to search them, Bran?”

Bran barked a short, humorless laugh. “Have you
seen
them, Adaryn?” he asked. “You could hide a city in there. I scanned the edges, but there’s no way I’d be able to conduct a proper search of them. Not alone, anyway.”

“That’s where we need to go,” she said determinedly. “The outlaws are there, I’m sure of it.”

Aaric tilted his head, puzzled. “What makes you so sure, Adaryn?”

Adaryn’s mouth snapped shut and she fidgeted a little. “Oh. Well. Just rumors. In the city.”

“
Adaryn,
” both men said simultaneously.

“Fine.” She glowered at the two of them. “King Matias told me.”

“What?” Bran blurted out. Aaric stared at her, aghast.

“Well, why not?” she said defensively, heat rising to her face. “He’s a friend of mine, and he has an incentive to get rid of the brigands, does he not?”

Bran put his face in his hands. “Adaryn.” He sounded strangled. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“And why should I be?” She was offended. Aaric could hear it in her voice and her face was red. “I didn’t initially plan to tell him about our quest but it just slipped out, and good thing it did.” She filled both men on her most recent discussion with the king.

“Hmm.” Bran rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t say I’m entirely thrilled about getting him mixed up in all of this, but he does have a motive to help us.”

“True,” Aaric said.

“When do we leave?” Adaryn asked.

Aaric eyed her dubiously. “Perhaps it would be better for you to stay here,” he said, thinking of the fight they had with the brigands before arriving at the city. “It will be dangerous.”

Adaryn rolled her eyes at the same moment Bran laughed. “She fights better than you do.”

Aaric split his glare between the two nomads who unapologetically grinned back. He sighed. “Fine.”

“Let’s leave tomorrow,” Bran said. “I’ll have the cook put together some proper rations for us tonight.”

After he left, Adaryn went to sit on the bed next to Aaric. He put his arms around her, drawing her close to him, breathing in her woodsy scent.

“I hope we find it.” Adaryn’s voice was muffled against his chest. “I want to get this over with.”

“Me, too.” Aaric ran his hand up and down Adaryn’s back. “I don’t know if we’ll find this Fyrsil in my father’s notes, but we’ll at least find out if the brigands have something that is giving them the edge. It would explain why King Matias’ guards haven’t been able to do much to stop them.”

Adaryn was silent, her arms wrapped around Aaric’s waist. Aaric hoped his worry hadn’t shown in his voice. If they didn’t find the brigand leader, he wasn’t sure what to do next, if there was anything they
could
do.

24

Adaryn

“
I
like Sen Altare better than Ruis,” I said to Aaric as we rode side by side. It was the first overcast day since arriving at Sen Altare, and it looked like it might rain. Bran took the lead, riding Star and scanning the land as he always did. We were nearing the end of our first day of travel, and Bran said we were getting close to the ruins. He always took the lead. He didn’t want to be ambushed. “Still too crowded for me, but it’s cleaner, the people stay out of your business and there’s no slavery.”

“That’s true,” Aaric said absently. He was only half listening. The man was reading another book.

“How are you liking the Scholar’s Guild?” I tried switching subjects for the fourth time, attempting to engage in some conversation.

“We’re here,” Bran called from ahead.

Aaric’s head snapped up and, putting his book away in his pack, urged his horse ahead. “Hurry, Adaryn,” he called over his shoulder. “Not the time to be distracted.”

I frowned at his back. He accused
me
of being distracted? I considered throwing a rock at him, but then my horse stepped into view of the Tyrko Ruins and all thoughts of Aaric were wiped from my mind.

The Ruins were located in a vast, basin-like depression. Broken stone buildings of various sizes dotted the landscape as far as the human eye could see.

“What was it?” I asked in a wondering whisper.

“Tyrko was a city, long ago,” Aaric said, taking in the sight with equal amazement. “Not much in recorded history is said of it, only that it was the capital of Omniah, before the War.”

I was silent as I continued to look at the sight before me. Omniah was our nation, but it was broken up into cities now, such as Ruis and Sen Altare. Rule extended out into the country surrounding them, but not by a lot. Much of the terrain between cities was simply unclaimed. No one seemed to be able to hold onto much beyond that, thank the heavens. I thought of Kingsley, a magistrate in Ruis. To have his influence extend past the city was a terrible thing to contemplate.

The War was what broke Omniah into its cities. I didn’t know anything about it past that.

“Let’s go.” Bran broke the stillness, and we started forward.

It was starting to feel humid. I plucked at my blouse and looked up at the sky. The clouds were looking decidedly dark.

“We need to find shelter, and soon,” Bran stated, peering up at the sky.

Aaric pointed to a large, leaning building several yards away from us. “Why don’t we shelter there?”

“Too close to the edge,” Bran said. “If there are brigands here, they’ll be able to spot us right away.”

He led his horse down into the basin, Aaric and I following.

Short, stubby brush with brittle, green leaves crunched under the horses’ hooves, releasing a bitter fragrance. I wrinkled my nose.

I stared at the large, empty structures as we passed, wondering what their different functions would have been, and what kind of people lived there.

We came to an immense, circular area with seats surrounding it. I frowned, puzzled. What had it been for?

“I know what this is!” Aaric rode his horse forward eagerly, entering the odd clearing. “It’s called an ‘arena.’ I’ve read about them in books. Slaves would be brought here and would fight to the death. Onlookers would bet on who would win and who would die.”

I shuddered. Such a grisly fate. I think I would choose death before harming one of my clan members.

“Aaric,” Bran said. “I don’t think—”

Brigands poured out of the streets behind us, yelling and waving their weapons overhead as they descended on us. There wasn’t time to count, but there had to be at least twenty. For a split second I could only stare in shock. How had they found us? With both Bran and I watching our surroundings so closely, how did we not see them?

Bran smacked the rump of my horse. Russet screamed, and dashed into the arena, Bran and Star close behind.

Aaric wheeled around to face us, his expression grim. He had untied a bundle from his saddle and was holding an arc-bow. He must have picked one up in the city somewhere. He aimed and fired. One of the brigands yelled, clutching at his arm. I summoned magic, forming a cold spear in my hand, but hope died in the pit of my stomach. There were too many. I hefted the spear, knowing my resistance was futile. I wouldn’t be able to kill them all. Even if Bran summoned his magic we . . .

Hope wasn’t dead yet. I felt it stir as I looked at the nomad.

Out of nowhere, the wind picked up with startling ferociousness, whipping my hair into my face. Bran sat straight backed and motionless in his saddle, facing the brigands.

Their battle cries had turned into whoops of victory. They believed the battle already won.

Aaric reined his horse beside me, his face tense.

With a deafening roar, lightning stabbed down from the sky in the midst of the brigands, scattering them like leaves in a gale. Russet and Aaric’s horse bucked and screamed; only Star stood motionless.

Lightning struck, again and again, into the ranks of outlaws. They were running in all directions now, without rhyme or reason. The battle had lasted less than a minute.

Bran sat slumped in his saddle, swaying like he would fall. Gaining control of Russet, I rode forward and grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“Where in blazes did that come from?” Aaric asked in wonderment, staring at the retreating backs of the outlaws.

Dismounting my own horse, I scrambled up Star, seating myself behind Bran. I had seen him do this once before, and knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to stay in his seat. I wrapped my arms around his waist, keeping him steady.

“Lead the way Aaric,” I said. “Keep your arc-bow ready. We need to return to Sen Altare.”

25

Aaric

“
B
ran did that?” Aaric asked in wonder. He was riding his own horse, and leading Russet by the reins. “I didn’t know magic could control the elements.”

“It can’t, not usually,” Adaryn said. She was seated behind the tall nomad, her arms wrapped securely around his waist. Bran looked almost asleep. Aaric felt his lips thin. He didn’t like the sight of them sitting together, but Bran had certainly saved their lives today. The least they could do was make sure he didn’t fall out of his saddle.

Adaryn continued. “Bran . . . has a gift. Magic users call upon enchantment using the strength that is within themselves. Bran can, too. However, he can also call upon the power of earth and sky that most of us cannot. He’s the only one in our clan that can do it.”

Aaric peered at Bran. The man still swayed in his saddle, his eyes half-closed. “Why didn’t he cast lightning the last time we were attacked?”

Adaryn clucked her tongue in irritation. “I know you can see, Aaric. The man is half-dead with exhaustion. He only uses the elements when he absolutely has to, as he works the power through his own strength.”

Aaric squinted through the deepening gloom. Dusk had come and it was getting increasingly dark. A light rain started falling, which added to the darkness. “Blast this rain,” he muttered.

“Be thankful for it, Aaric.” Adaryn spoke again. “It will help hide us from the brigands.” She hugged Bran. “Thank Bran.”

Aaric stared again at him. Bran would fetch a pretty penny if he were to ever be collared. He chuckled ruefully. Bran would slaughter anyone fool enough to try.

“Aaric?” Adaryn’s voice sounded small, frightened even. “What do we do now?”

Aaric grimaced. He didn’t have the slightest idea as to what they should do, but he had to put a brave face on for Adaryn’s sake.

“We’re going to return to Sen Altare,” he said. “If we travel through the night we should be there by mid-morning, despite the rain.” He grunted with irritation. “If one of our horses doesn’t break a leg first.”

Adaryn urged Star forward, and slipped one hand from Bran’s waist. A small, yellow ball of light floated above her palm, and she held it up, casting a dim light on their path.

“We need to get Bran somewhere to rest,” Aaric said. His talking seemed to relax Adaryn, and, if he was being honest, made himself feel a little better. The damp night wasn’t doing much to lift his spirits. “Maybe back to the Dancing Cat.”

“How did the brigands surprise us?” Adaryn asked. “They couldn’t know we were coming. They couldn’t.”

“Perhaps one of their scouts saw us approach the Ruins.” It was a very likely possibility.

Adaryn nodded. “That’s true. That would explain how they managed to not be seen by Bran or I. They saw us first.”

“No joke,” Aaric chuckled drily.

Adaryn’s brow was furrowed in thought. “How are we going to sneak back to the Ruins without them seeing us?”

“Go back?” Aaric asked blankly. “Why would we do that?”

“We need to find Fyrsil.”

Aaric sighed. “I don’t think there’s a ‘Fyrsil’ anymore, Adaryn,” he said wearily. “That was probably close to ten years ago that my father heard the rumor.”

“There has to be,” Adaryn insisted. “It’s the only lead we have.”

Aaric shrugged, pretending indifference. In truth, it was a crushing blow to lose their only lead, however slight it had been.

“Oisin can burn in the abyss.” It hadn’t been meant for his ears, but Aaric heard it, and smiled.

“Remember, Adaryn, your chief’s never heard of a ‘reformed Oppressor.’ He can hardly be blamed for his animosity toward me.”

“I don’t care,” Adaryn said grumpily. “It’s his fault we’re out here. His son almost
died
because of his fool errand.”

His son is the reason we’re still alive,
Aaric thought, but didn’t voice it. He wished he were a better protector, that
he
could be the one to save Adaryn.

“What if we can’t find it, Aaric?” Adaryn asked. “The sky jewel? What if all the shards are either lost from the world or locked up in some fool’s manor? Shades alive, wouldn’t it just be our luck if Kingsley had one, or Miss Grace?” She was silent for a moment. “I guess I should go through Grace’s belongings, just in case.”

“Miss Grace almost certainly doesn’t have one,” Aaric said tiredly. “She’d have worn it like a bauble for everyone to see.” He didn’t know what he was going to do, but they had been away for months. Should he just give it up and admit defeat? He gave his word to either find one or return for their justice, and his word was his honor. The latter option didn’t sound appealing, but he also didn’t feel right asking Adaryn to sacrifice her whole life waiting on the chance that he might find one.

He glanced over once more at the tall nomad riding with her, feeling his shoulders sag with defeat. Bran wasn’t a bad man, and in Aaric’s failure, he would make a good husband.

Aaric hunched over in his saddle, brooding over his thoughts, each one more depressing than the last.